dragons again.
Title: Ficlet Three: Brendon
Rating: R - Intended for an Adult Audience (adult language, sexual themes)
Fandom: Bandom/Dragonriders of Pern crossover (posted for bandom_pern)
Pairing: Mention of Spencer/Brendon and other pairings.
Warnings: Possible dub-con:Talk of sexual activity while under a psychic bond to another.
Words: 2775
Summary: Brendon has music. And more friends than he ever expected.
Previous Ficlets in the Series: Bob, Spencer.
Ficlet Three
Brendon
Brendon woke up in stages. First he just let himself sink back into his dreams, but he was woken again by the little puffs of air that were tickling his shoulder. He cracked one eye open just enough to see Spencer curled up at his side. Brendon closed his eyes and stretched his legs out before tilting over closer to Spencer, who straightened out as well before sliding one long, warm thigh across the top of Brendon's knees, keeping him in place.
Spencer was starting to stir, pressing up along Brendon's side. It was so tempting to press back; coax him to hardness and enjoy a slow, languid round of comfortable sex to start the day.
He could hear Spencer's dragon shuffling around in her weyr, just through the doorway from the sleeping nook they occupied, and the firm, no-nonsense voice of the Weyrlingmaster, Zack, drifted up from the barracks where he was rousing the riders of the new dragonets, still getting used to the demands of looking after their young charges.
Brendon was starting to get twitchy. Once he had surfaced from sleep he really did need to get moving. It always felt a little rude creeping out before his partner was awake, but he could not keep lying still. He considered the possibility of rolling Spencer over onto his back and waking him up, but as he looked around, he saw Miloth.
It was sort of ridiculous to be embarrassed in front of a dragon. Especially this one. But the fact was that they usually went to Brendon's room to have sex, and Miloth was generally asleep. Or so Spencer said. Brendon wasn't entirely sure he believed him about that. It was nearly impossible to get a rider to explain their dragon. He wondered if it was a private thing, or just that they really didn't understand them any better than he did. It had to be amazing to have a dragon speak to you.
Miloth opened one eye and looked at Brendon. Brendon's mouth went dry. He gave a polite smile and pulled a hand out from the sleeping fur to give a little wave.
"Morning," he whispered. "Um. Miloth."
The dragon didn't make any sound but the whirling eye didn't move from its focus on him either.
It made sense, really, for him to get up and go to his room to wash and dress, since he was on duty this morning after breakfast. He would be drilling the children in their teaching songs, while Patrick tutored some of the more promising older ones in notation and record keeping. Spencer had a rare rest day, so Brendon carefully slipped out from the furs, and into last night's clothes without waking him further.
He never stopped marvelling at just how big dragons were. He knew that Miloth was on the smaller side, even for a green dragon - the smallest of all the colours - but her head was still nearly the size of Brendon's entire body. Her hide glistened with good health and strong colour; the green a rather earthy hue, not bright with the lime glow indicating she was ready to rise. She must be at least a week away, then. Brendon hoped he wouldn't be called away from teaching again this time. Even though everyone in the Weyr knew and accepted that the needs of the dragons over-rode every other concern, that the weyr existed for them, Brendon would still rather not have everyone know that he was waiting to see if he was needed to fuck his friend, even if he was pleased that Spencer still asked for him.
The last two flights he'd waited, watched while Spencer was claimed by a different man, and then gone back to his day - after a quick trip to the bathing rooms where he'd come almost the moment he'd touched himself, the build up and possibilities having driven him almost to that point all by themselves. The memories of the time he had ended up taking part were still fairly overwhelming, particularly since it had been only days after smiling at Spencer's querying, almost daring face and saying, "Sure Spence. You can have my hot bod any time you need it."
Spencer had crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "I can always ask someone else."
"Who? Haley? I don't think that's going to work."
"Very funny. Look Brendon, seriously, you don't have to do this. I'm asking you because I'd be comfortable having you there, but it's your call."
Brendon knew Spencer well enough now to see past the apparent air of impatience and see that he was quite sincere. Though he was comfortable with anyone, regardless of rank, or the size of their dragon, Spencer only really relaxed around friends that he could trust. Brendon valued being one of those who saw him at his most ridiculous and affectionate. It had been no hardship to say 'yes'.
Within a matter of days, Brendon had been summoned to the chamber where the riders were congregated after watching the dragons blood their kill, and then take off into the sky, waiting for the outcome of the flight. He'd stood at the door looking around at the sight before him. No wonder my parents thought the Weyrs were hives of iniquity. The arousal filling the room hit Brendon almost like a wall.
Spencer was pacing an elliptical path around the centre of the floor. He was barefoot and clothed only in a pair of thin trousers and an undershirt. His hair was dishevelled - not sleek and shiny like usual. Some clumps were stuck to his flushed face. As he spun on his heel to cross back in front of Brendon, he suddenly tore off his shirt, flinging it away from him, shaking his head back to flick the hair out of his eyes. Brendon tried to smile encouragingly at him, but Spencer's eyes slid away from him like he didn't even know Brendon was there.
As he continued pacing, Spencer snarled at the other riders, who moved in closer towards him. Some of them were naked, some still partly clothed. All of them were focused intently on Spencer, palming their erections and reaching out as if hoping to just touch a fingertip to his hot skin.
Dragon flights were legend, of course, spoken of only in hushed and horrified tones when he was growing up. His parents considered the Weyrs to be a necessary evil, keeping the debauchery cloistered, away from the decent folk of the Holds. He couldn't imagine what they would do if they ever learnt of his involvement.
It had been distressing enough for them to realise that Brendon fully intended to study at the Harper Hall, that being fostered to another land Hold had not killed his desire for music, for studying and learning and knowing more. When he had accepted the apprenticeship without their support, he had honestly thought they'd never speak to him again.
The relative freedom of the Harper Hall had made Brendon a little giddy at first. He had stayed up all night, just because he could. He had flirted with boys and girls, gone to Gathers, bought bright clothing. Just because he could. Eventually he'd slept his way through those who were willing and available; he'd learnt as much as he could from the Masters, and he'd still wanted to see more of the world.
Walking the tables as a Journeyman, several years before his peers, had been yet another step forward, but he'd worried. Was he too young to be a proper Harper? Would the Masterharper send him back to his family's hold? Would he be confined to teaching reluctant children in a hidebound backwater? Instead, Patrick, the Composition Master, had approached, asked his thoughts on coming with him to the Weyr. He'd leapt at the chance. Literally leapt into Patrick's arms, sending the short, stocky harper crashing back against the sandtable and scattering scrolls and writing tools across the floor.
"I'll take that as a 'Yes' then, shall I?" had been Patrick's response as he'd retrieved his hat and resettled it on his head.
Getting to see the Dragons; to live amongst them every day; to meet the folk of the Weyr and feel so accepted and even welcomed, had been an amazing thing. In the Turn and a half that he'd been here he had made deeper friendships than he'd ever known. And living with the Weyr's open attitude to sex and physical companionship had felt like he'd finally been able to exhale; to relax and be himself. Instead of being manouveured into an early marriage with some holder's daughter, expected to procreate and work the land, he was free to explore liaisons of different types with different people. Some of his friends were in settled, monogamous relationships, but there was no pressure for him to do the same. The rooms that he shared with Patrick in the Harper's apartment were comfortable and his work was satisfying.
Still, it was one thing to see the dragons blood their kill (and with all the green dragons in the Weyr a dragon was rising to mate nearly every week), but the actual mating flight was an experience he'd never expected to share in, even though he regularly slept with dragonriders.
There were hands all over Spencer. He seemed to be both inviting and threatening at once.
Brendon watched as the energy in the room shifted. One rider in the circle surrounding Spencer had started to move forward, to push the others out of the way. The unsuccessful riders backed off and seemed to disperse before Brendon realised what was happening. Then there were three people left in the middle of the room. A naked woman, who Brendon recognised as one of the weyr healers, was tugging the successful rider away from Spencer and over towards one of the sleeping pallets set up along the wall. She looked up and around the room until she saw Brendon standing, still in the doorway. She nodded at him, quickly, and turned her attention back to the man in front of her, obviously familiar with him and with this, submitting herself easily to his urgent hands and dragon-lust.
Spencer was left standing alone, eyes closed, face contorted in a scowl as he swayed and ran his hands through his hair.
"Hey. Get a move on."
Brendon felt like he jumped a dragonlength in the air and turned to Zack. "Shit. Dude! You almost gave me a heart attack!"
"Seriously, Brendon, if you are here for Spencer then he needs you right now. If this is going to be too much for you, you'd better speak up, so we can get someone else. He can't lose contact with his dragon. If he does, she might go between... "
Zack was a great Weyrlingmaster. He took his duties seriously, and still looked after the younger riders who had graduated to the Wings. He was looking around at the other riders that were making their way out of the room. Brendon realised he was looking for someone to step in for him. He thought Brendon was going to flake out, as though he was just some flirty journeyman who was in it for the thrill.
"Right! No! I am totally up for this." Brendon nodded vigorously, and bounced on his toes.
It was just that Spencer looked so... different to the Spencer that Brendon knew. He wasn't the self-assured guy who had befriended Brendon in his early days in the Weyr. That Spencer was competent and sarcastic; quick to joke and taken with weird obsessions; switching easily from loyal friend to relaxed lover.
This Spencer was ruffled and on edge. There was an aggressive desperation to his movements.
He stretched his head out to the side and rolled it to the other shoulder.
Brendon watched the long line of his neck, thinking how Spencer loved to lick his skin and run his hands up and down Brendon's arms. He swallowed.
It was like his brain and his cock couldn't agree on what was going on.
"Well, get moving, little harper man." Zack pushed him forward and he stumbled towards Spencer.
Okay, he could totally do this. Spencer needed him. Spencer had asked him. He had other friends, and other lovers, but he'd asked Brendon.
Just then Spencer made a whining, distressed sound. It shocked Brendon into action. It reminded him that this was SpencerMiloth, not just Spencer.
He closed the space between them, suddenly confident and sure of what he had to do.
He knew he needed to mirror the intent - if not the actions - of the male rider, now forcefully taking hold of the healerwoman who was his partner. Spencer writhed against his grip, trying to snake away from him, daring Brendon to hold on tighter. And then, in concert with the other couple in the room, and the other couple in the air, Spencer went from fighting against him, from still needing to be 'won', to relinquishing control - vocal and responsive - surrendering to Brendon's physical directions.
The details were still hazy in his memory, but Brendon remembered turning Spencer around, holding him firmly around the chest with one arm and pushing him down onto the soft rushes of the bedding, and holding him there. Holding him and taking him and letting him fly with Miloth while she fell through the sky, carried on the strong beat of her partner's wings. Feeling the echo of Miloth's orgasm washing over Spencer was the most intense sensation Brendon had ever had.
~
The last of the children tumbled out through the door, leaving the main room in the Harpers' Quarters quiet for the first time since classes began that morning. Brendon gathered up the various drumsticks and pipes left scattered about the room, putting them in their places on the shelves and tidying up the sand table and song hides.
"Hey, stranger."
Brendon turned to see Shane leaning in the entryway, arms folded, warm smile on his face.
"Stranger yourself, man! Where were you last night?" Brendon walked over to right a seat that had been knocked over by the rush of leaving students. "Lead a boy on and then stand him up? That shit is not cool!"
He stood up on his toes and licked Shane's nose, spinning out of reach when he grabbed at Brendon's arm. Shane walked over and once again reached for Brendon. He let his hand slide gently down from Brendon's shoulder until he was holding his wrist. Brendon rubbed his cheek on Shane's chest before moving away to continue straightening up the room.
"It's fine. I caught up with Spence. He's been pretty busy, lately. Boy is in demand!"
"He sure is. A few on my Wing are angling to be in on his next flight. Marks are on Rubano and Bayth at the moment. He's managed to partner up with Miloth on duties the last few weeks."
The politics of who got a chance at the mating flight was not an area Brendon wanted to get into right now.
"So..." Brendon wheedled. "Last night? Where'd you go?"
"Well, you know...I was with Regan."
Brendon grinned at him. He didn't want Shane to think he was worried about that. Shane and Regan were sweet together. They had a real chance at settling down as weyr-mates. Brendon wasn't going to mess with that.
"That's cool. Really! You have fun?"
"Brendon." Shane paused until he was looking at him. "I was hoping you would come find me. Us."
"Oh." Did that mean... what he thought it meant?
Shane scrunched up his face into an expression of exaggerated query.
"So... what about we try again? Tonight?"
Brendon knew he was beaming. He couldn't say he'd never hoped for exactly this opportunity.
"It's a date."
"Awesome."
The happy bubble in Brendon's stomach deflated slightly as he remembered what Patrick had told him that morning.
"It might be a late one, though."
"Oh?
"There's been a meeting with some of the Weyrleaders and Craftmasters here today. A few of them are staying until tomorrow, so we have to entertain and amuse after dinner."
"A harper has a hard life."
"It's true! You dragonriders think you have it rough!"
Brendon finished tidying up, directing Shane to line the chairs up along the stone wall. When they were done, he hooked his thumb through one of the belt loops on Shane's wher-hide pants and walked with him to the dining cavern, ready to eat well, in preparation for a very long night.
next
~
Thankyou to maple_mahogany and miss_diverse for the read throughs and to barmy_bunk for the beta.
Disclaimer: The Pern universe and the world, creatures and customs that belong to it remain the intellectual property of Anne McCaffrey, and the characters referenced in this piece are fictional representations of real people. No offense or infringement is intended, and no profit is being made.
Rating: R - Intended for an Adult Audience (adult language, sexual themes)
Fandom: Bandom/Dragonriders of Pern crossover (posted for bandom_pern)
Pairing: Mention of Spencer/Brendon and other pairings.
Warnings: Possible dub-con:Talk of sexual activity while under a psychic bond to another.
Words: 2775
Summary: Brendon has music. And more friends than he ever expected.
Previous Ficlets in the Series: Bob, Spencer.
Ficlet Three
Brendon
Brendon woke up in stages. First he just let himself sink back into his dreams, but he was woken again by the little puffs of air that were tickling his shoulder. He cracked one eye open just enough to see Spencer curled up at his side. Brendon closed his eyes and stretched his legs out before tilting over closer to Spencer, who straightened out as well before sliding one long, warm thigh across the top of Brendon's knees, keeping him in place.
Spencer was starting to stir, pressing up along Brendon's side. It was so tempting to press back; coax him to hardness and enjoy a slow, languid round of comfortable sex to start the day.
He could hear Spencer's dragon shuffling around in her weyr, just through the doorway from the sleeping nook they occupied, and the firm, no-nonsense voice of the Weyrlingmaster, Zack, drifted up from the barracks where he was rousing the riders of the new dragonets, still getting used to the demands of looking after their young charges.
Brendon was starting to get twitchy. Once he had surfaced from sleep he really did need to get moving. It always felt a little rude creeping out before his partner was awake, but he could not keep lying still. He considered the possibility of rolling Spencer over onto his back and waking him up, but as he looked around, he saw Miloth.
It was sort of ridiculous to be embarrassed in front of a dragon. Especially this one. But the fact was that they usually went to Brendon's room to have sex, and Miloth was generally asleep. Or so Spencer said. Brendon wasn't entirely sure he believed him about that. It was nearly impossible to get a rider to explain their dragon. He wondered if it was a private thing, or just that they really didn't understand them any better than he did. It had to be amazing to have a dragon speak to you.
Miloth opened one eye and looked at Brendon. Brendon's mouth went dry. He gave a polite smile and pulled a hand out from the sleeping fur to give a little wave.
"Morning," he whispered. "Um. Miloth."
The dragon didn't make any sound but the whirling eye didn't move from its focus on him either.
It made sense, really, for him to get up and go to his room to wash and dress, since he was on duty this morning after breakfast. He would be drilling the children in their teaching songs, while Patrick tutored some of the more promising older ones in notation and record keeping. Spencer had a rare rest day, so Brendon carefully slipped out from the furs, and into last night's clothes without waking him further.
He never stopped marvelling at just how big dragons were. He knew that Miloth was on the smaller side, even for a green dragon - the smallest of all the colours - but her head was still nearly the size of Brendon's entire body. Her hide glistened with good health and strong colour; the green a rather earthy hue, not bright with the lime glow indicating she was ready to rise. She must be at least a week away, then. Brendon hoped he wouldn't be called away from teaching again this time. Even though everyone in the Weyr knew and accepted that the needs of the dragons over-rode every other concern, that the weyr existed for them, Brendon would still rather not have everyone know that he was waiting to see if he was needed to fuck his friend, even if he was pleased that Spencer still asked for him.
The last two flights he'd waited, watched while Spencer was claimed by a different man, and then gone back to his day - after a quick trip to the bathing rooms where he'd come almost the moment he'd touched himself, the build up and possibilities having driven him almost to that point all by themselves. The memories of the time he had ended up taking part were still fairly overwhelming, particularly since it had been only days after smiling at Spencer's querying, almost daring face and saying, "Sure Spence. You can have my hot bod any time you need it."
Spencer had crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "I can always ask someone else."
"Who? Haley? I don't think that's going to work."
"Very funny. Look Brendon, seriously, you don't have to do this. I'm asking you because I'd be comfortable having you there, but it's your call."
Brendon knew Spencer well enough now to see past the apparent air of impatience and see that he was quite sincere. Though he was comfortable with anyone, regardless of rank, or the size of their dragon, Spencer only really relaxed around friends that he could trust. Brendon valued being one of those who saw him at his most ridiculous and affectionate. It had been no hardship to say 'yes'.
Within a matter of days, Brendon had been summoned to the chamber where the riders were congregated after watching the dragons blood their kill, and then take off into the sky, waiting for the outcome of the flight. He'd stood at the door looking around at the sight before him. No wonder my parents thought the Weyrs were hives of iniquity. The arousal filling the room hit Brendon almost like a wall.
Spencer was pacing an elliptical path around the centre of the floor. He was barefoot and clothed only in a pair of thin trousers and an undershirt. His hair was dishevelled - not sleek and shiny like usual. Some clumps were stuck to his flushed face. As he spun on his heel to cross back in front of Brendon, he suddenly tore off his shirt, flinging it away from him, shaking his head back to flick the hair out of his eyes. Brendon tried to smile encouragingly at him, but Spencer's eyes slid away from him like he didn't even know Brendon was there.
As he continued pacing, Spencer snarled at the other riders, who moved in closer towards him. Some of them were naked, some still partly clothed. All of them were focused intently on Spencer, palming their erections and reaching out as if hoping to just touch a fingertip to his hot skin.
Dragon flights were legend, of course, spoken of only in hushed and horrified tones when he was growing up. His parents considered the Weyrs to be a necessary evil, keeping the debauchery cloistered, away from the decent folk of the Holds. He couldn't imagine what they would do if they ever learnt of his involvement.
It had been distressing enough for them to realise that Brendon fully intended to study at the Harper Hall, that being fostered to another land Hold had not killed his desire for music, for studying and learning and knowing more. When he had accepted the apprenticeship without their support, he had honestly thought they'd never speak to him again.
The relative freedom of the Harper Hall had made Brendon a little giddy at first. He had stayed up all night, just because he could. He had flirted with boys and girls, gone to Gathers, bought bright clothing. Just because he could. Eventually he'd slept his way through those who were willing and available; he'd learnt as much as he could from the Masters, and he'd still wanted to see more of the world.
Walking the tables as a Journeyman, several years before his peers, had been yet another step forward, but he'd worried. Was he too young to be a proper Harper? Would the Masterharper send him back to his family's hold? Would he be confined to teaching reluctant children in a hidebound backwater? Instead, Patrick, the Composition Master, had approached, asked his thoughts on coming with him to the Weyr. He'd leapt at the chance. Literally leapt into Patrick's arms, sending the short, stocky harper crashing back against the sandtable and scattering scrolls and writing tools across the floor.
"I'll take that as a 'Yes' then, shall I?" had been Patrick's response as he'd retrieved his hat and resettled it on his head.
Getting to see the Dragons; to live amongst them every day; to meet the folk of the Weyr and feel so accepted and even welcomed, had been an amazing thing. In the Turn and a half that he'd been here he had made deeper friendships than he'd ever known. And living with the Weyr's open attitude to sex and physical companionship had felt like he'd finally been able to exhale; to relax and be himself. Instead of being manouveured into an early marriage with some holder's daughter, expected to procreate and work the land, he was free to explore liaisons of different types with different people. Some of his friends were in settled, monogamous relationships, but there was no pressure for him to do the same. The rooms that he shared with Patrick in the Harper's apartment were comfortable and his work was satisfying.
Still, it was one thing to see the dragons blood their kill (and with all the green dragons in the Weyr a dragon was rising to mate nearly every week), but the actual mating flight was an experience he'd never expected to share in, even though he regularly slept with dragonriders.
There were hands all over Spencer. He seemed to be both inviting and threatening at once.
Brendon watched as the energy in the room shifted. One rider in the circle surrounding Spencer had started to move forward, to push the others out of the way. The unsuccessful riders backed off and seemed to disperse before Brendon realised what was happening. Then there were three people left in the middle of the room. A naked woman, who Brendon recognised as one of the weyr healers, was tugging the successful rider away from Spencer and over towards one of the sleeping pallets set up along the wall. She looked up and around the room until she saw Brendon standing, still in the doorway. She nodded at him, quickly, and turned her attention back to the man in front of her, obviously familiar with him and with this, submitting herself easily to his urgent hands and dragon-lust.
Spencer was left standing alone, eyes closed, face contorted in a scowl as he swayed and ran his hands through his hair.
"Hey. Get a move on."
Brendon felt like he jumped a dragonlength in the air and turned to Zack. "Shit. Dude! You almost gave me a heart attack!"
"Seriously, Brendon, if you are here for Spencer then he needs you right now. If this is going to be too much for you, you'd better speak up, so we can get someone else. He can't lose contact with his dragon. If he does, she might go between... "
Zack was a great Weyrlingmaster. He took his duties seriously, and still looked after the younger riders who had graduated to the Wings. He was looking around at the other riders that were making their way out of the room. Brendon realised he was looking for someone to step in for him. He thought Brendon was going to flake out, as though he was just some flirty journeyman who was in it for the thrill.
"Right! No! I am totally up for this." Brendon nodded vigorously, and bounced on his toes.
It was just that Spencer looked so... different to the Spencer that Brendon knew. He wasn't the self-assured guy who had befriended Brendon in his early days in the Weyr. That Spencer was competent and sarcastic; quick to joke and taken with weird obsessions; switching easily from loyal friend to relaxed lover.
This Spencer was ruffled and on edge. There was an aggressive desperation to his movements.
He stretched his head out to the side and rolled it to the other shoulder.
Brendon watched the long line of his neck, thinking how Spencer loved to lick his skin and run his hands up and down Brendon's arms. He swallowed.
It was like his brain and his cock couldn't agree on what was going on.
"Well, get moving, little harper man." Zack pushed him forward and he stumbled towards Spencer.
Okay, he could totally do this. Spencer needed him. Spencer had asked him. He had other friends, and other lovers, but he'd asked Brendon.
Just then Spencer made a whining, distressed sound. It shocked Brendon into action. It reminded him that this was SpencerMiloth, not just Spencer.
He closed the space between them, suddenly confident and sure of what he had to do.
He knew he needed to mirror the intent - if not the actions - of the male rider, now forcefully taking hold of the healerwoman who was his partner. Spencer writhed against his grip, trying to snake away from him, daring Brendon to hold on tighter. And then, in concert with the other couple in the room, and the other couple in the air, Spencer went from fighting against him, from still needing to be 'won', to relinquishing control - vocal and responsive - surrendering to Brendon's physical directions.
The details were still hazy in his memory, but Brendon remembered turning Spencer around, holding him firmly around the chest with one arm and pushing him down onto the soft rushes of the bedding, and holding him there. Holding him and taking him and letting him fly with Miloth while she fell through the sky, carried on the strong beat of her partner's wings. Feeling the echo of Miloth's orgasm washing over Spencer was the most intense sensation Brendon had ever had.
~
The last of the children tumbled out through the door, leaving the main room in the Harpers' Quarters quiet for the first time since classes began that morning. Brendon gathered up the various drumsticks and pipes left scattered about the room, putting them in their places on the shelves and tidying up the sand table and song hides.
"Hey, stranger."
Brendon turned to see Shane leaning in the entryway, arms folded, warm smile on his face.
"Stranger yourself, man! Where were you last night?" Brendon walked over to right a seat that had been knocked over by the rush of leaving students. "Lead a boy on and then stand him up? That shit is not cool!"
He stood up on his toes and licked Shane's nose, spinning out of reach when he grabbed at Brendon's arm. Shane walked over and once again reached for Brendon. He let his hand slide gently down from Brendon's shoulder until he was holding his wrist. Brendon rubbed his cheek on Shane's chest before moving away to continue straightening up the room.
"It's fine. I caught up with Spence. He's been pretty busy, lately. Boy is in demand!"
"He sure is. A few on my Wing are angling to be in on his next flight. Marks are on Rubano and Bayth at the moment. He's managed to partner up with Miloth on duties the last few weeks."
The politics of who got a chance at the mating flight was not an area Brendon wanted to get into right now.
"So..." Brendon wheedled. "Last night? Where'd you go?"
"Well, you know...I was with Regan."
Brendon grinned at him. He didn't want Shane to think he was worried about that. Shane and Regan were sweet together. They had a real chance at settling down as weyr-mates. Brendon wasn't going to mess with that.
"That's cool. Really! You have fun?"
"Brendon." Shane paused until he was looking at him. "I was hoping you would come find me. Us."
"Oh." Did that mean... what he thought it meant?
Shane scrunched up his face into an expression of exaggerated query.
"So... what about we try again? Tonight?"
Brendon knew he was beaming. He couldn't say he'd never hoped for exactly this opportunity.
"It's a date."
"Awesome."
The happy bubble in Brendon's stomach deflated slightly as he remembered what Patrick had told him that morning.
"It might be a late one, though."
"Oh?
"There's been a meeting with some of the Weyrleaders and Craftmasters here today. A few of them are staying until tomorrow, so we have to entertain and amuse after dinner."
"A harper has a hard life."
"It's true! You dragonriders think you have it rough!"
Brendon finished tidying up, directing Shane to line the chairs up along the stone wall. When they were done, he hooked his thumb through one of the belt loops on Shane's wher-hide pants and walked with him to the dining cavern, ready to eat well, in preparation for a very long night.
next
~
Thankyou to maple_mahogany and miss_diverse for the read throughs and to barmy_bunk for the beta.
Disclaimer: The Pern universe and the world, creatures and customs that belong to it remain the intellectual property of Anne McCaffrey, and the characters referenced in this piece are fictional representations of real people. No offense or infringement is intended, and no profit is being made.