[hetachallenge] RomNor -- 20/Light
Title: By Candlelight
Author: kahlanaisling
Claim: Romania/Norway
Character(s): Romania (Traian), Norway (Lukas)
Table/Prompt: Random/20 -- Light
Word Count: 1357
Rating: G
Summary: This is probably the first time they've even halfway kissed this entire table. Human AU, sometime in the early twentieth century.
The cellar is cold and musty and smells of preservatives, of cleaning supplies, of wood and dirt and is crowded with all of those things, but Lukas only knows that because he's seen it in the light. Now, in the middle of the night while he's yawning and tired, he's grateful for nothing more than the fact that it is dry and he's managed not to stub his toe on a barrel.
The match hisses as it flickers to life. Traian's face is thrown into shocking relief against the black of underground, glowing ever so slightly yellow in the flame. The shadows retreat slightly as he lights the candle, but they remain surrounded mostly by darkness.
“You can sit,” Traian tells him, sounding encouraging. “There's nothing down here anymore.”
“It's the 'anymore' that I don't like.” Lukas doesn't come down here very often, nor has he lived here for very long, but he's heard stories and is smart enough not to take chances without sufficient preparation.
A candle and a Romanian are not sufficient preparation, no matter how superstitious both are.
Traian chuckles and says, “Really, it's all just bones and bodies now and those are far below us.”
The image of corpses writhing beneath the dirt floor is one Lukas would rather Traian had not put into his head, but given that he himself would have done the same to anyone else, he chooses to ignore it. Crossing his legs, he sits across from Traian, leaning as close to the candle as possible without risking burning to death.
“Why are we down here, anyway?” Lukas softly demands to know, pulling his dressing gown closer around his shoulders. He wonders how Traian manages down here, in his thin shirt and trousers.
“No particular reason,” Traian whispers in reply, tracing a pattern in the dirty floor with his little finger.
“Didn't you want to show me something?”
“No.”
Lukas grunts and leans on his hand. He doesn't say anything, but if Traian's grin is anything to go by his thoughts are obvious.
“I don't always want to show you something, you know,” Traian says. “Sometimes I just want to annoy you. That's a valid pasttime, yes?”
The answer should be no, because Lukas has his education and his responsibilities and his reputation to worry about while Traian has none of that. So Lukas says, “No.”
Traian's grin only widens, because he knows that Lukas means yes. Lukas scowls at him, but Traian doesn't bother to counter and conversation falls aside.
Honestly, though, the conversations he holds with Traian are probably the most Lukas has said in a month - that's probably why Tino doesn't send him away. Nobody in their family is very good at talking and, following the fire, they've all said even less than usual. (Mathias talks, but Mathias is still away at school and not coming home for some months. Tino talks, but Lukas refuses to consider him part of the family just yet.)
Lukas isn't an idiot; he knows that Tino knows they run around together and he knows that the information is passed on to Berwald, who then makes all the executive decisions. Why he's not bothering to be here to care for Lukas himself, nobody but Tino seems to be sure, but it must be important. Lukas has decided to trust him and give Tino a chance.
Lukas licks a finger and runs it over the candle flame, seeing it shudder and flicker. Traian just watches; he's surprisingly good at that.
Tino isn't an inherently bad man, Lukas believes. He's good for Berwald and good for Emil, and he'll probably be good for Mathias too. He's just not good for Lukas.
And that is why Traian stays.
“When are you leaving?”
The sudden question startles Lukas, drawing his attention away from the flame and back to Traian's face. His eyes are suddenly serious. “What?”
“When are you leaving?”
Lukas thinks about it for a minute. It's December now, he's been here about three months, and Berwald ought to be returning from whatever trip he's on soon. When Berwald comes back, it'll only be a matter of time before they shift locations. Distastefully, Lukas entertains the possibility that he may have to go back to boarding school. There's no way Berwald can keep up with him, not with his lifestyle. “Probably after the holidays,” he says.
“Oh, okay.” Traian seems relieved and disappointed at the same time. He folds his hands, weaving his spindly fingers together tightly.
“Why?”
“No reason.”
Seems an odd question to ask, but Lukas accepts it without second thoughts.
At some point Traian takes a deep breath, exhaling loudly, and shifts to lean against one of the crates. Lukas moves the candle aside and sits next to him. Sitting beside Traian is easier than it used to be, more comfortable. (More worrisome, because Lukas can hear how his breathing rattles and feel how cold he is. Lukas ought to look into getting some of his old clothing tailored, it'd be a good Christmas present.) “I just wanted to know how much time we've got left.” The words don't seem to come very easily, like Traian has had to really think about them.
“About a month,” is Lukas's answer. He's glad of it, in some ways.
But thinking about it, there are going to be things he misses. Gilbert, he'll miss getting into trouble with the boy. The drowning noise of the city, too; Lukas has always been more of a country person and probably always will be, but the city has its advantages. Lots of nooks and crannies to explore, always more secrets to discover. He'll miss Mr. Karpusi, his tutor, and the small bookshop a few blocks over. He'll miss Traian.
He'll miss Traian a lot, probably.
“Will you miss me?” he asks. It's a purely scientific question; Lukas doesn't know the answer and wants to know it, and the person who can give it is sitting right there. Not a difficult leap from point A to point B, as Karpusi would say.
Traian bites his lip.
“Well?”
A lot of surprising things have happened to Lukas since he first came to Tino's house. Getting lost and nearly kidnapped in the middle of the city, his first taste of Chinese food, the idea that masters and servants can in fact be friends, pulp fiction. Pulp fiction is amazing. But the most surprising event, out of all those things, is the small barely-existent kiss Traian plants on his cheek.
Lukas, slightly startled, raises a thin eyebrow and turns to look at him. Traian is leaning his head against the large crate, avoiding his eyes. “Sorry,” Traian says immediately, but he doesn't sound it.
“Why . . . ?”
“I wanted to kiss you,” Traian speaks quickly, “before you leave, but you were turned the wrong way. And if I hadn't done it now I wouldn't have done it at all. And you always say to do things as opportunities present themselves. And. . . .”
Lukas thinks about what to say; he could comment on how wrong that was (but he probably won't, since he's been sure for a while now that Berwald's relationship with Tino is less than platonic), or he could mention how that's the kind of thing one keeps to himself. How kissing is a thing that women do, that women want, but that would be a lie. How Lukas doesn't want Traian that way.
Well, he doesn't want Traian that way - but to say that's the be-all end-all of the situation is also a lie, so Lukas finds himself at an impass.
In the end, he goes with, “I'm facing the right way now.”
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Author: kahlanaisling
Claim: Romania/Norway
Character(s): Romania (Traian), Norway (Lukas)
Table/Prompt: Random/20 -- Light
Word Count: 1357
Rating: G
Summary: This is probably the first time they've even halfway kissed this entire table. Human AU, sometime in the early twentieth century.
The cellar is cold and musty and smells of preservatives, of cleaning supplies, of wood and dirt and is crowded with all of those things, but Lukas only knows that because he's seen it in the light. Now, in the middle of the night while he's yawning and tired, he's grateful for nothing more than the fact that it is dry and he's managed not to stub his toe on a barrel.
The match hisses as it flickers to life. Traian's face is thrown into shocking relief against the black of underground, glowing ever so slightly yellow in the flame. The shadows retreat slightly as he lights the candle, but they remain surrounded mostly by darkness.
“You can sit,” Traian tells him, sounding encouraging. “There's nothing down here anymore.”
“It's the 'anymore' that I don't like.” Lukas doesn't come down here very often, nor has he lived here for very long, but he's heard stories and is smart enough not to take chances without sufficient preparation.
A candle and a Romanian are not sufficient preparation, no matter how superstitious both are.
Traian chuckles and says, “Really, it's all just bones and bodies now and those are far below us.”
The image of corpses writhing beneath the dirt floor is one Lukas would rather Traian had not put into his head, but given that he himself would have done the same to anyone else, he chooses to ignore it. Crossing his legs, he sits across from Traian, leaning as close to the candle as possible without risking burning to death.
“Why are we down here, anyway?” Lukas softly demands to know, pulling his dressing gown closer around his shoulders. He wonders how Traian manages down here, in his thin shirt and trousers.
“No particular reason,” Traian whispers in reply, tracing a pattern in the dirty floor with his little finger.
“Didn't you want to show me something?”
“No.”
Lukas grunts and leans on his hand. He doesn't say anything, but if Traian's grin is anything to go by his thoughts are obvious.
“I don't always want to show you something, you know,” Traian says. “Sometimes I just want to annoy you. That's a valid pasttime, yes?”
The answer should be no, because Lukas has his education and his responsibilities and his reputation to worry about while Traian has none of that. So Lukas says, “No.”
Traian's grin only widens, because he knows that Lukas means yes. Lukas scowls at him, but Traian doesn't bother to counter and conversation falls aside.
Honestly, though, the conversations he holds with Traian are probably the most Lukas has said in a month - that's probably why Tino doesn't send him away. Nobody in their family is very good at talking and, following the fire, they've all said even less than usual. (Mathias talks, but Mathias is still away at school and not coming home for some months. Tino talks, but Lukas refuses to consider him part of the family just yet.)
Lukas isn't an idiot; he knows that Tino knows they run around together and he knows that the information is passed on to Berwald, who then makes all the executive decisions. Why he's not bothering to be here to care for Lukas himself, nobody but Tino seems to be sure, but it must be important. Lukas has decided to trust him and give Tino a chance.
Lukas licks a finger and runs it over the candle flame, seeing it shudder and flicker. Traian just watches; he's surprisingly good at that.
Tino isn't an inherently bad man, Lukas believes. He's good for Berwald and good for Emil, and he'll probably be good for Mathias too. He's just not good for Lukas.
And that is why Traian stays.
“When are you leaving?”
The sudden question startles Lukas, drawing his attention away from the flame and back to Traian's face. His eyes are suddenly serious. “What?”
“When are you leaving?”
Lukas thinks about it for a minute. It's December now, he's been here about three months, and Berwald ought to be returning from whatever trip he's on soon. When Berwald comes back, it'll only be a matter of time before they shift locations. Distastefully, Lukas entertains the possibility that he may have to go back to boarding school. There's no way Berwald can keep up with him, not with his lifestyle. “Probably after the holidays,” he says.
“Oh, okay.” Traian seems relieved and disappointed at the same time. He folds his hands, weaving his spindly fingers together tightly.
“Why?”
“No reason.”
Seems an odd question to ask, but Lukas accepts it without second thoughts.
At some point Traian takes a deep breath, exhaling loudly, and shifts to lean against one of the crates. Lukas moves the candle aside and sits next to him. Sitting beside Traian is easier than it used to be, more comfortable. (More worrisome, because Lukas can hear how his breathing rattles and feel how cold he is. Lukas ought to look into getting some of his old clothing tailored, it'd be a good Christmas present.) “I just wanted to know how much time we've got left.” The words don't seem to come very easily, like Traian has had to really think about them.
“About a month,” is Lukas's answer. He's glad of it, in some ways.
But thinking about it, there are going to be things he misses. Gilbert, he'll miss getting into trouble with the boy. The drowning noise of the city, too; Lukas has always been more of a country person and probably always will be, but the city has its advantages. Lots of nooks and crannies to explore, always more secrets to discover. He'll miss Mr. Karpusi, his tutor, and the small bookshop a few blocks over. He'll miss Traian.
He'll miss Traian a lot, probably.
“Will you miss me?” he asks. It's a purely scientific question; Lukas doesn't know the answer and wants to know it, and the person who can give it is sitting right there. Not a difficult leap from point A to point B, as Karpusi would say.
Traian bites his lip.
“Well?”
A lot of surprising things have happened to Lukas since he first came to Tino's house. Getting lost and nearly kidnapped in the middle of the city, his first taste of Chinese food, the idea that masters and servants can in fact be friends, pulp fiction. Pulp fiction is amazing. But the most surprising event, out of all those things, is the small barely-existent kiss Traian plants on his cheek.
Lukas, slightly startled, raises a thin eyebrow and turns to look at him. Traian is leaning his head against the large crate, avoiding his eyes. “Sorry,” Traian says immediately, but he doesn't sound it.
“Why . . . ?”
“I wanted to kiss you,” Traian speaks quickly, “before you leave, but you were turned the wrong way. And if I hadn't done it now I wouldn't have done it at all. And you always say to do things as opportunities present themselves. And. . . .”
Lukas thinks about what to say; he could comment on how wrong that was (but he probably won't, since he's been sure for a while now that Berwald's relationship with Tino is less than platonic), or he could mention how that's the kind of thing one keeps to himself. How kissing is a thing that women do, that women want, but that would be a lie. How Lukas doesn't want Traian that way.
Well, he doesn't want Traian that way - but to say that's the be-all end-all of the situation is also a lie, so Lukas finds himself at an impass.
In the end, he goes with, “I'm facing the right way now.”
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