Original: "String Pyramid." Slash.
Summary: Calvin's wanted to date the mummy princess, Patra, for a long time. The only thing standing in his way is her sphinx bodyguard and his riddles.
It was pretty typical for a Friday night at the frat house. Francis was planted on the sofa with a bowl of cereal, watching cartoons. Pele, Vince, Jian and the rest of the guys were at the game, at a bar watching the game, something like that, and Calvin--
Calvin wasn't halfway through the front door before he was yelling, "Fran, I need a favor!"
Francis dropped his spoon in the bowl, upsetting milk over his hand. "What!" he yelled back louder.
"Come with me to the Pharaoh's Tomb tonight."
He laughed and picked up with his cereal again. "Wouldn't be caught dead at a dance club," he said through a mouth of Cookie Crisps.
"Come on, man." Calvin dropped down on the couch next to him, too close for comfort. "Patra's having a party there. I really want to see her, and you know she always has that sphinx dude guarding her."
Francis couldn't stop his interest piquing a little at the image of Seth Deshret. There must've been some kind of string inside him, yanked every time he even got a ghost of the guy. And then sometimes just for shits and giggles, in the weirdest places: the library or chem class, sitting at lunch with his friends, pulling a this'll-do shirt out of his laundry hamper to wear. Seth was always in his head, lately. "She's a mummy princess. What do you expect? Sorry, you missed out on the normal boat when you were born to sprites."
"Yeah, well, I can't get anywhere near her without answering his shitty riddles. You know I'm no good with puzzles."
"You're no good with anything."
Calvin punched him in the shoulder.
Half of Francis's cereal and milk spilled over the lip of the bowl onto his lap. He stared at it hard for a second. Looked like he'd just wet himself, and he felt kind of embarrassed like he had, too. "That'll really convince me to come."
"Okay, okay," Calvin smoothed over where he'd just hit him, suddenly started working Francis's arm with such desperate hands that it felt like he was loosening his muscles before a prize fight. Francis shrugged him off, hoarding his cereal up close to his mouth and shoveling in a few more spoonfuls.
"You're right, okay? But seriously. You’re really good at puzzles and stuff. If you come, I'll...I'll give you a tenner. Deal?"
"Ten bucks?" Milk dribbled out of his mouth. He ragged it off with the back of his sleeve. "For a night wasted on you? Don't think so. What does ten bucks buy these days? Can it even buy a pack of gum? Come on."
"Okay, ten and you can use my car anytime you want, now that you got your big boy pants on and have a license. Better than Vince's pedo van, right?"
Calvin had a mint, classic red mustang that matched Francis's skin. People would really see him coming. "Yeah, that's better."
Realistically, he probably would've given in for nothing eventually, since he'd already been promised the excuse to see Seth outside the rec MonStars baseball team they both played on. But no one knew about his hang-up, and Calvin never was any good at reading people or bargain bribing. Everyone in the house liked to milk him for all he was worth because he'd just keep going and going, until he was giving away the shirt on his back for whatever he needed.
"You just have to get me through Seth and you can do whatever you want. I'll keep you in buffalo wings and beer all night, whatever." Calvin play-tugged at one of Francis's horns, but something popped in his skull regardless. "I mean, as long as it's not more than five bucks' worth."
“Don't go being Mother Teresa there.”
*
For a mummy, Patra was a real babe, Francis could tell, half just from how much Calvin panted for her all the time. But she did nothing for him, personally.
He trailed behind Calvin from their parking space to Pharaoh's Tomb, trying to occupy his eyes with anything else on the street but the club’s blitzing neon sign and Seth standing guard just below it, caught up in the color. It was hard to not look at him, though, even just to see if he was looking back. Eventually, Francis broke his resolve and sneaked a peek to gauge where Seth's eyes were-- gold and kohl-rimmed and right on them, tracking their path up the street with a smug scowl on his face.
"You again,” Seth started, when they were just a few feet away. “And with a friend… Hey, Francis."
Calvin grunted. "Look, Sphincter. Let's cut the how's the weather chitchat, and you just give me a riddle, okay?"
There was apparently another string in Francis, one that connected him to the cocky, wide smile Seth turned on Calvin just then. His black lips made it all the more overpowering, and Francis cataloged it for later. He'd never seen that kind of attitude when they were playing ball.
"So? Let's have it."
"As you wish." Seth resituated himself against the door, lion tail dragging back and forth on the cement, his black braids catching light halos. "To you rude would I never be, though I flag my tongue for all to see."
Right away the answer seemed obvious to Francis, maybe for having nothing better to do than hold staring contests with Jian's bulldog, Bowser, on slow afternoons. He was always lolling his tongue out of his mouth, drooling spit on the floor or on Francis's bed, on Francis's cheeks, in the mornings when he woke up to a face full of dog kisses and rank breath.
He looked from Seth to Calvin, who had an expression like he didn't even have half a clue where to start.
After a minute of that ugliness, Francis took pity on him and said, "Jian asked me. I forgot to feed Bowser before we left."
"Shut up, Fran. I'm thinking."
"Poor little Bowser."
"Later, Fran--" Calvin stopped short. Francis could see the working, working, working, and then the light going on. He looked back over at Seth and felt the warmth of guilt and anticipation buzz his skin at Seth watching him back, one eyebrow cocked.
"A dog. It's a dog."
Seth turned to Calvin, face stony. "That's correct. You may enter."
“Thanks, bro!” Calvin puffed up his chest. With a bow to some invisible audience, he took a real soldierly walk past Seth through the doors.
And Francis was right behind him with a grin, but a hand whipped out suddenly to bar him back. He trailed the black claws and hard line of gold-glint muscle up to Seth in profile, the row of black earrings, strong angle of his nose, eye slimmed toward the sidewalk, mouth pulled up at the corner.
"Where are you going, Francis?" He rolled his head to side to look at him face-on. "One answer, one person."
"Yeah... Right." Francis took an aimless step back. What was one more riddle? Wasn't like he minded another minute out here with Seth. "Sure, fine. Ask another one."
"I have eyes for you, of which there are at least two. What am I?"
"At least two?" Eyes, eyes. Eyes for you. What had two or more eyes? People had eyes. Animals had eyes. Potatoes. Needles had one. Words. Mississippi. "Wait… Is there really an answer for this? There's not more than one?"
Seth gave him that big smile again, but it was a little different, and it tugged at him more insistently, made him feel jolted awake. "There's only one answer that I'll accept."
Francis tried to return the grin, but it got muddied in embarrassment over not knowing the answer. Not even taking a couple minutes to run it through and through and through again had anything coming out definitive. But he had to give him something. "I don't know. I'll go with potatoes?"
Seth's brow furrowed. He licked away the urge to laugh, though it still blunted Francis's pride. "That's a good guess. But it's not the one I'm looking for."
"What's the answer, then? I've never heard that one before."
Seth pushed off the door. "I can't tell you. But I'll give you a hint for next time…"
He came up in front of Francis and cupped his chin carefully in both hands, crowding in so close to him that his eyes caught Francis like two flares of a relentless, all-encompassing sun.
He couldn't look away, and it hit him then, through the soft intensity of Seth's attention, that the answer was him. Seth had eyes for him.
Wordless, Seth ducked in under Francis’s horns and coaxed his eyes shut with the press of their lips together.
[The dog riddle is verbatim from this site.]
[also at my lj with anon commenting on/no ip logging.]
It was pretty typical for a Friday night at the frat house. Francis was planted on the sofa with a bowl of cereal, watching cartoons. Pele, Vince, Jian and the rest of the guys were at the game, at a bar watching the game, something like that, and Calvin--
Calvin wasn't halfway through the front door before he was yelling, "Fran, I need a favor!"
Francis dropped his spoon in the bowl, upsetting milk over his hand. "What!" he yelled back louder.
"Come with me to the Pharaoh's Tomb tonight."
He laughed and picked up with his cereal again. "Wouldn't be caught dead at a dance club," he said through a mouth of Cookie Crisps.
"Come on, man." Calvin dropped down on the couch next to him, too close for comfort. "Patra's having a party there. I really want to see her, and you know she always has that sphinx dude guarding her."
Francis couldn't stop his interest piquing a little at the image of Seth Deshret. There must've been some kind of string inside him, yanked every time he even got a ghost of the guy. And then sometimes just for shits and giggles, in the weirdest places: the library or chem class, sitting at lunch with his friends, pulling a this'll-do shirt out of his laundry hamper to wear. Seth was always in his head, lately. "She's a mummy princess. What do you expect? Sorry, you missed out on the normal boat when you were born to sprites."
"Yeah, well, I can't get anywhere near her without answering his shitty riddles. You know I'm no good with puzzles."
"You're no good with anything."
Calvin punched him in the shoulder.
Half of Francis's cereal and milk spilled over the lip of the bowl onto his lap. He stared at it hard for a second. Looked like he'd just wet himself, and he felt kind of embarrassed like he had, too. "That'll really convince me to come."
"Okay, okay," Calvin smoothed over where he'd just hit him, suddenly started working Francis's arm with such desperate hands that it felt like he was loosening his muscles before a prize fight. Francis shrugged him off, hoarding his cereal up close to his mouth and shoveling in a few more spoonfuls.
"You're right, okay? But seriously. You’re really good at puzzles and stuff. If you come, I'll...I'll give you a tenner. Deal?"
"Ten bucks?" Milk dribbled out of his mouth. He ragged it off with the back of his sleeve. "For a night wasted on you? Don't think so. What does ten bucks buy these days? Can it even buy a pack of gum? Come on."
"Okay, ten and you can use my car anytime you want, now that you got your big boy pants on and have a license. Better than Vince's pedo van, right?"
Calvin had a mint, classic red mustang that matched Francis's skin. People would really see him coming. "Yeah, that's better."
Realistically, he probably would've given in for nothing eventually, since he'd already been promised the excuse to see Seth outside the rec MonStars baseball team they both played on. But no one knew about his hang-up, and Calvin never was any good at reading people or bargain bribing. Everyone in the house liked to milk him for all he was worth because he'd just keep going and going, until he was giving away the shirt on his back for whatever he needed.
"You just have to get me through Seth and you can do whatever you want. I'll keep you in buffalo wings and beer all night, whatever." Calvin play-tugged at one of Francis's horns, but something popped in his skull regardless. "I mean, as long as it's not more than five bucks' worth."
“Don't go being Mother Teresa there.”
*
For a mummy, Patra was a real babe, Francis could tell, half just from how much Calvin panted for her all the time. But she did nothing for him, personally.
He trailed behind Calvin from their parking space to Pharaoh's Tomb, trying to occupy his eyes with anything else on the street but the club’s blitzing neon sign and Seth standing guard just below it, caught up in the color. It was hard to not look at him, though, even just to see if he was looking back. Eventually, Francis broke his resolve and sneaked a peek to gauge where Seth's eyes were-- gold and kohl-rimmed and right on them, tracking their path up the street with a smug scowl on his face.
"You again,” Seth started, when they were just a few feet away. “And with a friend… Hey, Francis."
Calvin grunted. "Look, Sphincter. Let's cut the how's the weather chitchat, and you just give me a riddle, okay?"
There was apparently another string in Francis, one that connected him to the cocky, wide smile Seth turned on Calvin just then. His black lips made it all the more overpowering, and Francis cataloged it for later. He'd never seen that kind of attitude when they were playing ball.
"So? Let's have it."
"As you wish." Seth resituated himself against the door, lion tail dragging back and forth on the cement, his black braids catching light halos. "To you rude would I never be, though I flag my tongue for all to see."
Right away the answer seemed obvious to Francis, maybe for having nothing better to do than hold staring contests with Jian's bulldog, Bowser, on slow afternoons. He was always lolling his tongue out of his mouth, drooling spit on the floor or on Francis's bed, on Francis's cheeks, in the mornings when he woke up to a face full of dog kisses and rank breath.
He looked from Seth to Calvin, who had an expression like he didn't even have half a clue where to start.
After a minute of that ugliness, Francis took pity on him and said, "Jian asked me. I forgot to feed Bowser before we left."
"Shut up, Fran. I'm thinking."
"Poor little Bowser."
"Later, Fran--" Calvin stopped short. Francis could see the working, working, working, and then the light going on. He looked back over at Seth and felt the warmth of guilt and anticipation buzz his skin at Seth watching him back, one eyebrow cocked.
"A dog. It's a dog."
Seth turned to Calvin, face stony. "That's correct. You may enter."
“Thanks, bro!” Calvin puffed up his chest. With a bow to some invisible audience, he took a real soldierly walk past Seth through the doors.
And Francis was right behind him with a grin, but a hand whipped out suddenly to bar him back. He trailed the black claws and hard line of gold-glint muscle up to Seth in profile, the row of black earrings, strong angle of his nose, eye slimmed toward the sidewalk, mouth pulled up at the corner.
"Where are you going, Francis?" He rolled his head to side to look at him face-on. "One answer, one person."
"Yeah... Right." Francis took an aimless step back. What was one more riddle? Wasn't like he minded another minute out here with Seth. "Sure, fine. Ask another one."
"I have eyes for you, of which there are at least two. What am I?"
"At least two?" Eyes, eyes. Eyes for you. What had two or more eyes? People had eyes. Animals had eyes. Potatoes. Needles had one. Words. Mississippi. "Wait… Is there really an answer for this? There's not more than one?"
Seth gave him that big smile again, but it was a little different, and it tugged at him more insistently, made him feel jolted awake. "There's only one answer that I'll accept."
Francis tried to return the grin, but it got muddied in embarrassment over not knowing the answer. Not even taking a couple minutes to run it through and through and through again had anything coming out definitive. But he had to give him something. "I don't know. I'll go with potatoes?"
Seth's brow furrowed. He licked away the urge to laugh, though it still blunted Francis's pride. "That's a good guess. But it's not the one I'm looking for."
"What's the answer, then? I've never heard that one before."
Seth pushed off the door. "I can't tell you. But I'll give you a hint for next time…"
He came up in front of Francis and cupped his chin carefully in both hands, crowding in so close to him that his eyes caught Francis like two flares of a relentless, all-encompassing sun.
He couldn't look away, and it hit him then, through the soft intensity of Seth's attention, that the answer was him. Seth had eyes for him.
Wordless, Seth ducked in under Francis’s horns and coaxed his eyes shut with the press of their lips together.
[The dog riddle is verbatim from this site.]
[also at my lj with anon commenting on/no ip logging.]