Maybe you’re a train with square wheels

[insourarmor]

WHO: Fakir, Duck
WHERE: The boys' room at the HT apartment
WHEN: FORWARD DATED to Saturday evening
WARNINGS: Angst, teenage arguments, possibly Christmas joy
SUMMARY: Duck has offended Fakir's delicate sensibilities, and it's about time they actually talked about it.
FORMAT: Pair o' Derps

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[pas_de_ducks]

The sound of Fakir's voice, strong and clear despite its softness, just made Duck feel worse.

She knew, now that the heat of the moment had long since passed, that bringing Fakir's honor as a knight into question had been hurtful. And she'd tried to make up for it in small, wordless ways: she'd made cupcakes, put her extra blanket on his bed, gotten a nice new bar of soap that didn't smell too girly and left it on his side of the sink. But he'd been avoiding her and her gestures with his usual stubbornness.

And once again, Princess Tutu was more or less helpless to fix the problem.

Now, clutching the lamp that had once held the feeling of affection from Mytho's splintered heart, she hesitated outside Fakir's door, trying to pull together enough courage to confront him.

[pas_de_ducks]

If anyone would make an ideal poster girl for the expression "someone's face lit up like a Christmas tree", it would have been Duck.

"You... do?"

[insourarmor]

Fakir, meanwhile, was the very face of "oh, God, my life."

"Believe me, I've forgiven far worse trespasses in the past."

[pas_de_ducks]

With alarming speed, Duck was barreling into him, hugging him hard, the lamp sandwiched awkwardly between them.

[insourarmor]

"Oi, watch it!" Fakir sputtered as he tried very carefully to shimmy away. "The last thing I need now is new scars from that thing breaking!"

[pas_de_ducks]

"Ack--sorry!" She wiggled enough so that the lamp tumbled harmlessly onto the blankets next to them--and then hugged him all the harder.

"You're a wonderful knight," she said softly, and the warmth in her voice made it clear she meant every word. "And you're the bravest person I know. I promise I'll never say anything like that again."

[insourarmor]

Fakir ,for all his commitment to forgiving her, did not quite believe that. But it didn't matter. He awkwardly patted her head and mussed her hair.

"You're a wonderful... friend," Fakir said, trying very hard not to say 'whatever you are,' instead. "And I'm sorry I can't promise the same."

[pas_de_ducks]

She made a face and batted at his hand, giggling. "It's okay. I guess I owe you one."

[insourarmor]

"Hopefully I won't have cause to use it up for a long time," Fakir said. He extracted himself from her hold and settled beside her on the bed, and was quiet for a few moments. "The story is almost done."

[pas_de_ducks]

"Really?" She sat back, pulling the lamp upright with one hand. "Can I read it yet?"

[insourarmor]

At this, Fakir fidgeted. The last time he had shown anyone anything he'd written - or written anything, really - he had been, for lack of a better word, insane.

"I suppose," he said after a long moment. He reached over to his bedside table and opened the little drawer to pull out the notebook within.

[pas_de_ducks]

Duck let out a little "ooh" of excitement. "It's really okay? Because if you're close to the end, I can wait--"

[insourarmor]

"Just be grateful you can see it at all!" Fakir said, foisting it forcefully upon her. "It's very nearly done, so the ending is basically intact. Just be grateful."

[pas_de_ducks]

"Okay, okay! I just wanted to make sure."

She fidgeted for a moment, swallowing a jeez-don't-be-cranky remark before flipping the notebook open and settling in to read.