Fic: Frame the Sky
Pairings: Brendon/Ryan, Jon/Spencer
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~6000
Summary: AU.
>> The dancing flames in the fireplace seemed to echo Spencer’s delighted chuckle. “Ryan thinks you’re magic.” <<
Note: This is an exercise, sort of. I recently mentioned that my writing felt somewhat repetitive, that I felt stalled and discontent, so Stele3 suggested an exchange: Both of us were going to write something completely different from what we’d written so far, and it would have to be less than 4000 words to counteract our mutual tendency to think big.
Thanks to: Stele3, for suggesting this in the first place; buildyourwalls, for a quick read-through; softlyforgotten, for general encouragement and helping me fix stuff (I’m sorry this is only OTP you already know, hon). You girls are all wonderful!
This is… only partly that exercise. I’ve never written a fairytale-style sort of story before, so I got that part of the job done (and it was wonderful to play around with an entirely different tone, for once). However, I exceeded the limit by 2000 words. As this type of story does lend itself to somewhat wordy phrasing, I decided I didn’t care.
Disclaimer: Fake.
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Frame the Sky
______________
Like most mornings now, mist was hanging over the lake when Brendon pushed the shutters open. It was crawling up the slope of grass, reaching for his hut with spindly, near-translucent fingers that glowed in the first light of the morning sun. Combined with the yellowing treetops, it was a clear sign of autumn.
Summer always seemed to pass in a blink of an eye in this part of the kingdom.
Brendon trudged down to the bank to fill a basin with water, warming it with a flick of his fingers. When he dipped his thumb in, it was inevitably overheated; he’d never mastered the skill of controlling his energy enough for the result to be lukewarm. It was why Pete, for all the potential he’d claimed to have seen in Brendon, ended up leaving the potions shop to William.
Brendon honestly wasn’t bitter about it; he couldn’t even blame Pete for making a reasonable decision. He just wished it wouldn’t have left him stranded in a decaying hut, keeping himself afloat with random jobs for the townspeople, all sorts of small tasks that didn’t require a perfect hold on his magical gift.
--
As usual, Brendon made it to the inn between the first wave of early morning patrons, mostly gruffly farmers with no family who didn’t want to eat their breakfast alone, and the second wave of townspeople that came in at noon. A quick glance told him it was just him and a foreigner today, a slender man seated near the fireplace. Brown hair was curling about his face, his chin propped on a fist while he contemplated his plate without much enthusiasm. He was dressed oddly, clothes much more formal than what was usual for the town. A silken scarf was wound around his neck.
Brendon noticed he was staring and quickly looked away. He didn’t think the stranger was even aware it wasn’t just him and the currently absent pair of innkeepers anymore. While his face was veiled by the shadowy interior that Brendon’s eyes still needed to adjust to, he appeared halfway asleep over his breakfast.
The counter was empty, which was a rare occurrence. Both Jon and Spencer were early risers by habit; nearly six years of running their own business had made them adjust to the sleeping patterns of their customers. Brendon gave the stranger another quick glance before he hoisted himself up onto the counter, leaning over far enough to peer into the kitchen and call out a soft, “Jon?”
Something broke out of view, followed by Jon muttering a curse. He emerged a moment later, running a hand through his tangled hair and carrying three pieces of a broken cup. It was easily recognizable as Spencer’s favorite, despite the fact that the light blue paint was already chipped from years of usage, flaking off. Brendon had always assumed it held some significance for Jon and Spencer’s relationship. He found his suspicions confirmed by the horrified expression on Jon’s face.
“I can fix it,” Brendon said before Jon even got a chance to ask. He held out his hand.
Jon’s smile was grateful and relieved when he passed it over. As soon as his hands were empty, he slouched over the counter, watching through bleary eyes while Brendon assembled the shards, piecing them back together. All it took was for him to cup his hands around the puzzle and focus sharply, stomach fluttering with the energy that pulsed through his fingers. The clay glowed hot in his palms for a moment.
He passed the cup back to Jon. There were no trace of its earlier cracks, and Brendon prided himself that even the blue paint had regained some of its former luminosity. “You look like you didn’t get a lot of sleep,” he remarked.
“We stayed up most of the night.” Jon’s voice was scratchy, and he clearly hadn’t gotten a chance to shave this morning. The shadows on his cheeks went well with the circles below his eyes.
“Don’t make it sound as if I forced you to stay up talking, Walker,” came a low, soft comment from the table beside the fireplace. Brendon turned his head quickly to look at the stranger once more, appearing rather more awake now with a faint smile playing about his lips. With his head angled so the light of the torches and the fire illuminated his face, Brendon found himself staring yet again. Despite his odd attire, the stranger was quite possibly the prettiest man Brendon had seen in years, ever since he’d left William and Pete. Granted, there weren’t all that many people passing through the town, but Brendon was fairly certain this man would have attracted his gaze even on a crowded market place. It was hard not to notice the sharp cut of his features, the small nose and perfectly spotless skin.
It was also hard not to notice the man was meeting Brendon’s gaze with amused brown eyes.
“Brendon,” Jon said, and he sounded amused as well. “Meet Ryan Ross. I’m sure you remember some of Spencer’s tales. Ryan, this is Brendon Urie, our resident magician for small-scale repairs that won’t put him or anyone else in too much danger.”
Ryan Ross. It was no trouble at all to recall what Spencer had told him about his elusive best friend who’d left the town some months before Brendon arrived. Ryan Ross had used his considerable magical gift to quickly make a name for himself in the capital of the kingdom, eager to learn and succeed, and he’d earned himself a place amongst the court healers at a younger age than anyone before him. He’d kept in touch with Spencer, letters upon letters as well as a number of visits Spencer paid him, but for reasons Spencer hadn’t bothered to explain, Ryan had never returned to his place of birth. Until now.
Belatedly, Brendon reached over the counter to cuff Jon in the shoulder. “Thanks for making me look like a failure.”
“You’re not a failure.” Jon gave him a genuine grin that was threatened to be overtaken by a yawn. “You’re just not very good at control, sometimes.”
“I haven’t set fire to anything in a year,” Brendon said. He realized it wasn’t exactly helping his case when one of Ryan’s eyebrows arched. Distraction had always been one of his strengths, so he quickly strolled over to offer his hand for a proper introduction. “Brendon.”
Ryan smiled, and his touch lingered for a moment longer than what was courteous. “Ryan. You weren’t living here when I left.”
Spencer chose that moment to stumble out of the kitchen, looking more frazzled than Brendon remembered seeing him before. His shirt was askew, a yellow spot on his collar that might have been dried egg when usually, Spencer was very conscious of his appearance, even in a taproom filled with farmers in their working clothes. “We’re nearly out of wine,” he announced. “I thought there where three barrels left in the cellar, but we only have two, and one of them is already opened.”
The mindless ease with which Jon pulled him closer, his arm tight around Spencer’s shoulders, was something Brendon had always envied. “I can fill up our supplies this afternoon. Or Brendon could.”
“Is Gabe still running his parents’ estate?” Ryan asked.
“Yes. It’s officially his now. They signed it over last year.” Spencer looked away from Jon’s mouth to nod at Ryan and give Brendon a smile. “Morning, Brendon.”
Brendon set his elbows on the counter. It was sticky with ale, which told him they hadn’t managed to wipe it down last night. “Same to you. And I don’t mind running your errands, if it gets me free breakfast today.”
Jon chuckled. “You always get free breakfast here.”
“Yes, but then I’d feel like I actually did something to earn it, for a change.”
Ryan rose from his chair, walking around the table to join them at the counter. His hands were beautiful. Brendon needed to stop staring. “I haven’t heard from Gabe since the last time he came to Anghelas,” Ryan said. “I think that was about two years ago. Brendon, would you mind if I came along?”
Spencer’s lips quirked slightly. “I thought you were planning to leave this morning? Just passing through, so there’d be no danger of running into uncomfortable memories. Wasn’t that what you said?”
“I changed my mind.” Ryan’s expression was blank, his voice even. Brendon looked from him to Spencer and couldn’t help feeling like he was missing out on something.
“Did you, now,” Spencer murmured.
“I wouldn’t mind the company,” Brendon put in. Three heads turned to look at him, and he felt his cheeks color his without his permission. “I mean… Ryan, if you’re staying, I wouldn’t mind.”
Rewinding his words made him feel like a colossal, small-town idiot. He lowered his eyes to the counter so he wouldn’t see Jon’s sympathetic expression or the typical gleam Spencer’s eyes got whenever he was about to make a sarcastic remark. Spencer didn’t say anything, though. It was Ryan who spoke first, in a tone Brendon couldn’t decipher. “Thank you. Then I’ll come along.”
Brendon would have liked to pretend his brilliant smile was merely the polite reaction to Ryan’s words. He hoped that due to knowing Brendon not nearly as well as Jon and Spencer did, at least Ryan would think so.
--
It took the better part of an hour to reach Gabe’s estate just on horseback. With the carriage holding them back, it took even longer. Brendon didn’t mind in the least.
Ryan was sitting beside him on the bench, jolting with the potholes in the road. Sand and gravel was crunching under the wheels, forcing them to raise their voices, but it was a beautiful day with the sun shining bright from above and the first red leaves glinting in the treetops. Brendon enjoyed letting the horses run mostly unrestricted, and while it had earned him a mildly disgruntled comment from Ryan shortly after they set off, Ryan’s whole posture suggested he didn’t really mind. His face was open and relaxed, his attire less formal than what he’d worn earlier.
“I’m curious,” Ryan eventually said, after they spent a while discussing various townspeople they both knew. “Usually, people just pass through Vanshire, or they grow up here and stay. It’s not so often a foreigner settles down, so how did you end up here? Only if you don’t mind me asking, of course.”
“It’s alright.” Brendon lifted one shoulder, the whip pressing against his palm. “I was sort of passing through as well, but I liked Jon and Spencer, and they told me that I might find some things to do here, as a magician, since the last one had left.”
“Not that I could ever fix things.” Ryan sounded self-deprecating, despite Spencer’s information that he was filled to the brink with magic, one of the most powerful magicians in the kingdom. Spencer didn’t exaggerate. At Brendon’s questioning glance, Ryan laughed softly. “I can heal, really, and that’s just about it. If I took a broken cup and tried to make it whole, nothing would happen. It only works with bones.” It looked like a shadow was passing across his face, just for a blink of an eye. Brendon chose not to ask.
“Well, it sounds like a lot to me. Jon wasn’t completely off when he told you about what I could do.” He gave Ryan a short smile, and while he normally didn’t volunteer pieces of his past, he was curious as well, intent to find out the source of Ryan’s uncomfortable memories Spencer had mentioned. Brendon was naturally nosy. It bore no connection to how much he enjoyed looking at Ryan, or listening to the gentle quality of his voice.
“You didn’t seem to have any trouble putting Spencer’s cup back together,” Ryan said.
“Did Jon give that to him?” Brendon asked, momentarily distracted. Ryan would know things like that; he’d been around at a time when Brendon was still exploring freedom and the extent of Pete’s knowledge and patience.
“It came with a note that said, The blue reminds me of your eyes. Spencer read that to me about five-hundred times.” Ryan leaned back, smiling up at the canopy of trees. “I still haven’t quite forgiven Jon Walker for stealing Spencer from me, but I learned to live with it.”
“Stealing?” Brendon repeated. He wondered if he had his answer right there.
Ryan took one look at Brendon’s face, and then he burst out laughing. “Not like that, believe me. It was just that Spencer and I used to be near-inseparable, closer than brothers. It took me a while to get used to sharing.”
“Oh.” Brendon wasn’t relieved that Ryan didn’t seem to be carrying a torch for Spencer. He wasn’t. Either way, he couldn’t even be sure Ryan preferred men in the first place, although his instincts were rarely wrong about these things.
“My egotistical tendencies aside…” Ryan’s voice interrupted the stream of Brendon’s thoughts. A bump in the road made him cling to the armrest. “We were talking about your perceived lack of skills, I believe?”
“Thank you for reminding me.” Brendon sighed. “It’s not a lack of power, as far as I can tell. I just never really managed to get it under control. I’m just bad at…”
“Regulating it?” Ryan suggested. When Brendon gave him a surprised glance, a fleeting smile stole its way across his face. “That’s how Spencer put it when we were talking last night.”
“You were talking about me?”
“Jon called you his best friend and I’d never met you, so of course I was curious.”
Brendon smiled as he flicked the whip high above the horses’ heads. They probably weren’t even feeling a movement in the air. “Spencer’s assessment is fairly accurate, I suppose. Pete always-Pete took me in when I was thirteen, he taught me everything I know about magic. He always said I was too flighty, that I lacked focus.” Brendon fought to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “I guess that’s why he didn’t make me his successor at the potions shop.”
“I take it he was a potions master, then?” Ryan’s eyes were tracking the flight of a flock of birds, traveling south. Brendon forced his gaze back to the road.
“That was his specialty, yes.”
When Brendon glanced over once again, Ryan was staring at him as if he was trying to figure something out. Brendon tried for a quick smile that Ryan returned, but it didn’t dispel the underlying thoughtfulness in his expression.
--
Once Gabe caught sight of Ryan, he completely ignored Brendon in favor of pulling Ryan into a tight embrace before he proceeded to pelt him with question upon question. Brendon resigned himself to the role of a quiet observer, and it paid off in that he learned a lot about Ryan’s life and the reasons why he’d left this town. On the way back, the barrels behind them stacked so high they towered above their heads and swaying with each twist of the road, Brendon felt comfortable enough to ask, “So the reason you left was your father?”
“Yes.” For a moment, Ryan appeared disinclined to offer anything else. Then he straightened beside Brendon, the tip of his worn leather boot accidentally sliding along Brendon’s battered shoes. “My father and I used to have fairly different views of life. He didn’t agree with some of my choices, and I didn’t agree with some of his. Mostly not with his choice of paying more attention to his wineglass than his duties as a liege.”
“You’re of noble blood?” Brendon should have guessed. He was hoping the disappointment wouldn’t affect his voice.
Ryan turned to look at him, his hair windswept with a straw tangled in it, right above his left ear. “Does it make a difference?”
“I don’t know, I’m not of noble blood,” Brendon said. He was the only one who knew it was a lie, not counting parents who’d had no use for him in the first place, for a son who never fit into their elaborate plans. He’d left that part of himself so far behind it felt like the truth. “You should tell me.”
Ryan’s only reply consisted of a grin that could mean just about everything. Brendon was beginning to think Ryan liked it that way.
--
Brendon arrived at the inn the following morning to find Ryan still there, slumped over a steaming cup of tea with Spencer opposite him at the table. There were another couple of patrons occupying the room today, the aroma of their pipes mingling with the ever-present scent of the fireplace, and Brendon wavered in the doorway for a moment before Ryan glanced up sharply and motioned him over. Spencer, sitting with his back to Brendon, twisted in his chair for a greeting while Jon wagged a rag from his place behind the counter.
There was already a cup of honeyed milk waiting for Brendon. He slid into the free chair that was closer to Ryan, realizing belatedly that Spencer might question that choice. It didn’t bide well when he looked up to find Spencer watching him with a knowing look in his eyes.
A moment later, Jon pulled out the fourth chair, its legs scraping over the stone floor. “I hear Ryan’s going to turn the tables on me,” Jon told Brendon.
“How so?” Brendon glanced from Jon to Ryan before running his tongue along the rim of the cup. Jon usually dribbled a few drops of honey on it, once he’d noticed how much Brendon loved the taste.
“By stealing you away,” Jon said.
“Excuse me?” Brendon prided himself he had more class than to choke on his milk, but it was a close call. He hadn’t thought he’d been this obvious.
“Thank you, Jon.” Ryan’s glare was faintly impressive, and so was the heavy sarcasm he instilled in those three syllables. Brendon was beginning to see just how close he and Spencer must have been, and possibly still were. Brendon didn’t shrink back in his chair when Ryan turned to look at him. “If you want,” Ryan said, and that wasn’t what Brendon was expecting, so he weakly shook his head.
“Want what?”
The dancing flames in the fireplace seemed to echo Spencer’s delighted chuckle. “Ryan thinks you’re magic.”
“He is,” Ryan inserted quickly, directing a dark look at Spencer that might have conveyed more meaning than Brendon was able to decipher. “He’s a fire mage. They’re rare.”
“I’m what?” Brendon asked. He cleared his throat. “I mean, excuse me, being a fire mage sounds great, but I don’t even manage to heat water without overdoing it.”
“Exactly.” Ryan’s voice was unjustifiably triumphant.
Brendon set his cup down. “How is this a good thing?”
“It isn’t,” Ryan said, leaning forward to touch Brendon’s elbow. “But it’s not that bad. You simply haven’t had the proper training yet. With the right training, you’d be brilliant, Brendon. I know of three people in this kingdom who could make a cup of clay glow red with heat without so much as batting an eye, and the King is one of them.”
“Oh.” Brendon tore his gaze away from the bright contrast of Ryan’s hand against his skin. He was sure that this was the wrong time to bemoan the fact that Ryan’s interest in him had been nothing but a fascination with skills Brendon wasn’t sure he possessed at all. “Could you train me?”
“No.” Ryan shook his head.
That was helpful. Beside Brendon, Jon laughed in that soft, loose way he often had in the mornings. “Ryan, Brendon doesn’t know you as well as we do. You have to explain some things to him.”
Ryan tilted his head at Brendon, a distant sense of amusement in his eyes. “Forgive me. I really can’t train you; my Gift is earth-bound. I do know someone who could, though. Travis McCoy, he’s one of those three I mentioned. You’d have to come back to the capital with me.” The statement was followed by an awkward gesture, not quite a wave and not quite a crooking of fingers.
To the capital.
“I’ve never been there,” Brendon said.
“It’s not very far,” Ryan hurried to assure him. “Half a day’s ride, barely. You’d be able to return often.”
“To a decaying hut?” Brendon sucked in a breath of air, the scent of tobacco sweet on his tongue.
“I take offense at that,” Jon told him. Belying his own words, he didn’t look particularly offended.
“You shouldn’t.” Brendon leaned over quickly to grasp Jon’s shoulder, squeezing it. “You and Spencer are why I stayed so long in the first place.”
“We know,” Jon said. Spencer merely smiled. When Brendon turned his head to look at Ryan, he found Ryan already looking back, face bathed in the warm orange light of the fire. The tips of his lashes had a golden gleam.
“I don’t think I could afford a room in the city,” Brendon said, after a pause. The two other patrons were murmuring in low voices, and the fire crackled comfortingly, its flames throwing silhouettes on the smoke-darkened walls.
“Oh.” Ryan picked up his fork to play with a leftover piece of scrambled egg. He didn’t meet Brendon’s eyes. “You could stay at my place, for a while. Until you are settled enough to find something of your own.”
Brendon’s hands didn’t tremble, or at least he hoped they didn’t. Maybe Ryan was simply hospitable and intrigued by what he thought Brendon could do, or maybe his interest wasn’t solely that of a fellow magician. It had been too long since Brendon had been in a similar situation, so he was left floundering. Fortunately, Spencer relieved him of having to put his delight into words.
“Ryan doesn’t just have a place,” Spencer commented. His tone was unmistakably fond. “His position amongst the Palace Healers entitles him to a whole set of chambers in the palace. It is rather oversized for just one person, even if he refuses to admit it.”
“It wouldn’t be if I had family,” Ryan countered.
Spencer gave him a level look. “Which you do not.”
Ryan’s lips parted on a protest before he shook his head and grinned suddenly, brightly at Brendon. “So will you come?”
There was no answer that made sense other than, “Yes. Of course.” Brendon wrapped his hands around his cup and lifted it, but not so high Ryan wouldn’t see his answering grin. He didn’t notice they stayed like that, beaming at each other, until Spencer snorted and the spell broke.
--
The capital was spread out on the gentle slop of a hill, countless houses with red roofs gleaming in the sunshine. Above them, the palace resided with windows that glowed golden in the sun, colorful flags fluttering in the wind. The biggest one showed the crest of the Crown - an eagle made of fire, visible even from this far away.
Ryan brought his horse up beside Brendon’s, allowing him another moment of astonished silence before he asked, tone gentle, “Shall we?”
Brendon nodded, but speech still eluded him. He was convinced he’d lose himself in the maze of roads the first time he’d be brave enough to venture out alone.
--
The palace alone held more people than all of Vanshire together. In between settling in Ryan’s spacious guest room, meeting Travis and starting a training that was entirely different from Pete’s approach, relying on exercises in concentration rather than material tasks, Brendon felt like he’d been thrown into a whirlwind of change.
The one constant was Ryan.
Even in the mass of alabaster faces, gold blond hair and velvet dresses, it was always Ryan whom Brendon sought out in the dining hall, and he could count on Ryan interrupting every conversation he might have been holding at that moment to give Brendon a wide smile. It didn’t even matter who he was talking to; one day Brendon slid onto the bench beside Ryan despite the lack of space and Ryan turned his head for a smile. It was only a moment later that Brendon noticed Ryan was talking to the Princess, her blonde curls falling loosely over her shoulders as she laughed at something Ryan said. She was undeniably pretty.
Brendon glared at his plate so he wouldn’t glare at a member of the royal family. He was very conscious of Ryan’s thigh pressing warmly against his under the table.
Either way, with everything in constant motion, it might have been a result of habit and chance, but the topic of Brendon finding a different place for himself never came up - not two weeks after they arrived and Alex DeLeon mentioned an empty room in his part of the castle, not five weeks later when Brendon’s pile of belongings started growing slowly as word spread of his first successful projects with Travis.
Brendon, for his part, chose not to bring it up. He was uncomfortably aware of how much he’d miss returning to Ryan’s chambers, clothes covered in sooth from a day of failed attempts, only to find Ryan sprawled in front of the fireplace with an open book, achingly alluring against the backset of a deep red divan. Ryan always looked up with a faint smile, marking his place in the book with a finger between the pages to tell Brendon the bathtub was already filled with water, and he knew how to heat it himself.
Afterwards, Brendon would towel off his hair and curl up in the armchair beside the divan, and it would never take more than a few minutes for Ryan to close his book. Their conversations were quiet and lazy, and Brendon learned more about literature in those few weeks than he’d learned at school while Ryan appeared enamored with the fact that Brendon could talk about music for hours without ever tiring of the topic.
It was why Brendon, when he was offered to work for the Royal Armory, accepted the position, but declined the rooms that came with it. He wasn’t brave enough to mention the latter to Ryan. While he felt an occasional stitch of discomfort at imposing on Ryan’s hospitality, Ryan never gave any indication that he minded the company and, as Spencer had noted, it really was rather a lot of space for just one person. Brendon didn’t think the second guestroom had been used at all before he moved in.
--
Winter had crept into the castle while Brendon wasn’t looking. While the cold was considerably less piercing than it used to be in his tiny hut at the lake, with the icy wind blowing in through cracks in the windows and walls, Brendon still covered himself in extra layers of clothes, silk-woven undergarments he could suddenly afford. He fiercely missed the warmth of Jon and Spencer’s inn, but Jon had come to visit them just a few days prior, and Spencer would spend a week with them at the beginning of the next month.
Brendon wondered how worried he should be that he was thinking of Ryan and himself as a given unit, as an us. For all that they had fallen into a pattern very similar to that of a married couple, Ryan had never given any indication he considered Brendon to be more than a friend, while Brendon was sure his intentions were plain in his eyes each time he looked at Ryan.
He preferred not to dwell on it.
--
The door to their - to Ryan’s - rooms were still locked. Brendon tried the handle once more before he searched his pockets for the key that he rarely used. Most days, Ryan was already waiting when Brendon finished up at the weaponry, even more so as Brendon was running late today.
The fireplace was unlit when Brendon pushed the door open. He made the logs burst into flames with a flick of his wrist, no longer wary of his ability to set entire rooms on fire. His control had improved greatly over the course of just three months.
In the fire’s flickering brightness, Brendon could make out a book on the divan, left face-down. The sight was enough to fill his stomach with a sense of discomfort. Ryan was usually careful with his books, treating them with care and respect and berating Brendon in an endearingly earnest tone for bending the spines. Brendon settled on the divan and turned the book over to find that Ryan must have left off in the middle of a chapter, something he hated doing because, as he put it, the characters deserved to be put to sleep properly, not just dropped on the head when the reader left their world.
Brendon used a thin thread to mark Ryan’s place in the book and put it aside before he stretched out on the divan, closing his eyes as he settled in for a wait.
It wasn’t long before he heard the tired shuffling of feet outside the door, and then a soft click as the door cracked open. Brendon sat up quickly. Ryan was clearly trying to be quiet as he slipped in, as if afraid Brendon might be asleep already, oblivious to the fact that Brendon wouldn’t do that if he couldn’t be certain Ryan was alright. When Ryan raised his gaze, he looked worn out, and Brendon got up to take a thoughtless step towards him.
“Is everything alright?”
“The Princess had a riding accident this morning. It looked fairly grave for a while.” Ryan pushed a hand through his matted hair while Brendon quickly calculated the implications - the Chief Healer was on a visit to his family, in the northern part of the kingdom, and while Ryan wasn’t officially next in line, he was the most skilled of the healers, the one everyone would be looking to.
“Will she fully recover?” Brendon asked. There were grey circles under Ryan’s eyes, a sure sign that he’d had to call on reserves of his Gift that usually lay untouched. He appeared to be swaying slightly.
“I think so.” Ryan’s smile was no more than a ghost of the one Brendon had come to expect. “Greta’s always been a fast healer, and she’s strong.”
“I’m glad.” Brendon took another look at the weary curve of Ryan’s mouth and reached for his shoulder, mere instinct guiding his hand. “I’ll draw you a bath, if you can stay awake for that.”
“Please,” Ryan said, after a barely noticeable pause. When his eyes met Brendon’s, there was a new sparkle in them, maybe no more than a reflection of the flames, but it made the breath hitch in Brendon’s throat all the same. He should move into the bathroom to get the water running. Instead, he stayed where he was, hand just barely lingering on Ryan’s shoulder while Ryan was looking at him with a sudden, sharp intensity.
Brendon swallowed and hoped it wasn’t obvious. “Ryan…”
“Brendon.” This time, Ryan’s smile looked closer to what Brendon was used to. “Could I kiss you?”
Brendon was sure his wild heartbeat was painfully loud over the crackling of the fire. A log sparked and rolled over, and he could hardly get his tongue around the faint, “Yes, of course, yes.”
The corners of Ryan’s mouth pulled up further, and for all that he still seemed exhausted, the tension in his shoulders had melted away. “I wasn’t sure.”
“You weren’t sure?” Brendon repeated, disbelief making him raise his voice. He shook his head while Ryan was watching him with a mixture of delight and amusement. “Merlin, Ryan, I’ve only been waiting since the day we met.”
“You have?” Now Ryan looked positively elated, hidden away in the corners of his eyes and the quirk of his lips, and since Brendon had just about enough of this, he shifted forward on his toes and nudged his nose against Ryan’s. He didn’t allow the thought to form that to Ryan, this might be no more than a way to ground himself back in his own skin. There was nothing to gain from wondering.
One of Ryan’s hands settled on the small of Brendon’s back, just enough pressure to make Brendon shuffle forward another step. Their mouths brushed softly, hesitantly, Ryan’s breath warm on Brendon’s face. He closed his eyes.
There was no hesitation when Ryan’s tongue flickered out against the seam of Brendon’s lips; Brendon opened his mouth easily, and Ryan slid his tongue inside, hot and perfect, and all Brendon could do was hold on and try to match Ryan’s pace. When Brendon tilted his head back, just slightly to get a better angle, Ryan muttered something low in his throat. He appeared to be shaking against Brendon, and that was what made Brendon light up on the kisses, pull back slowly until they were merely breathing against each other, foreheads pressed together. From this close, Ryan’s lashes were dark smudges against his cheeks.
“You should get some rest,” Brendon murmured. Ryan looked like he might protest, so Brendon kissed him once, just quickly, and didn’t let himself wonder about the next day.
“How can you ask me to rest now?” Ryan’s voice was low and more than a little rough with exhaustion. Brendon moved the hand on Ryan’s shoulder so he was basically holding him up.
“Because you’re asleep on your feet,” he said. “You need rest, and I won’t take advantage of you like this.”
Ryan slit his eyes open, a frown growing on his face. “Is that what you think this is? You taking advantage of me?”
Brendon didn’t reply. Instead, he chose to focus on steering Ryan towards the bathroom, his arm tight around Ryan’s waist, Ryan’s body pliant and warm against Brendon’s side. When Ryan suddenly dug his heels in, it put an effective stop to Brendon’s efforts.
“Brendon,” Ryan said, tone cutting.
Brendon glanced at him, and then away.
It wasn’t much time that passed in silence, Brendon didn’t think so, but it felt too long and heavy all the same. Then Ryan twisted around to face Brendon, twisting one fist in the front of Brendon’s shirt. It was made of fine, blue linen and Brendon had acquired it only the day before. He stared down at Ryan’s hand, then raised his gaze. Ryan’s eyes were bright in the glow of the fire.
“You must be blind.” Ryan shook his head, smiling a little. “You think I’d invite just anyone to live with me?”
It was impossible to look away. “I thought you’d just gotten used to me being around all the time.”
“No. It still amazes me.”
“Oh.” Brendon honestly didn’t know what else to say with Ryan this close, this touchable, and now Brendon just might be allowed to touch, after all. He opted for closing his hand around Ryan’s wrist, thumb against Ryan’s pulse point. It quickened under his touch, and Ryan shifted closer.
“I wouldn’t mind getting used to it, though,” he whispered.
“Really?” Brendon couldn’t keep the hope out of his voice.
“Really.” Ryan’s breath came out damp and warm against Brendon’s cheek. His lips tickled Brendon’s skin when he added, “I thought a piano might look good in this room, but I didn’t know how to ask if you’d like that.”
“I would,” Brendon said quickly. He turned his head just enough to press his smile to the corner of Ryan’s mouth, and he wasn’t just talking about a musical instrument.
“Good.” Ryan’s tone was relieved, and Brendon was abruptly certain Ryan hadn’t been talking about just a musical instrument, either. It made Brendon laugh weakly, heart still beating too fast in his ears for anything more. Ryan gave him an inquiring look before he grinned, wide and true. When Brendon brought their mouths back together, he promised it was only for a moment before he’d make Ryan lie down and sleep. Using up reserves of magic took a lot out of a person.
Brendon had waited long enough. One more night wouldn’t make a difference, now that he knew Ryan wasn’t going anywhere.
=== finis ===