[No, no, Van is pretty sure it’s not all in his head. He hasn’t had any Perfect Coffee yet today, he’s still quite sober.
He can’t help but blush when Tarvek calls him out on flirting, though. He hadn’t really meant to — he’d been trying to tone it down as best he could, in fact — but if Tarvek was flirting back, that meant it was okay, right?
God, this is so confusing. It’s hard. It’s hard and no one understands. It was never like this with the pretty Mechanicsburg girls he’d woo from his booth.]
I can’t help but be observant, your highness. It is my job, you know.
[Oh gosh. Is he allowed to flirt back? Might as well try it.]
And if my job provides me with ample opportunity to look at you, then I can’t really complain.
[You’re really doing nothing to discourage him with that blushing. Honestly, he might be too busy getting excited about fitting you to notice anyway. Being observant is his job as well, but it’s hard to do when he’s sparking at one of his favorite things, and also fumbling around with measuring tape, so he’s actually less aware of Vanamonde’s discomfort and uncertainty than he normally would.
Flirting with the pretty seneschal just seemed like the reasonable course of action.]
Tarvek, please. I can’t abide a creature as handsome as yourself staying so informal with me.
[Flash Vanamonde a smile charmingly. Laying it on too thick? Oh well.]
[First name terms already? Goodness. Perhaps it’s simply because Tarvek is sparking and furthermore enjoying himself, that he’s so handsy and informal. Van decides it must be that. He’s noticed that a Spark in fugue tends to be a little less mindful of social boundaries than they would otherwise be, so he’s willing to give Tarvek the benefit of the doubt.
Still, he can’t mark down the flirting to simple Spark.]
Tarvek, then.
[Now isn’t that a foreign concept, being so… well… intimate with someone of such higher station than he is.
It’s a little thrilling. He isn’t sure how he feels about that.]
What, exactly, did you have planned for this outfit?
[No, Van, stop that. Don’t you downplay this by chalking it up to spark. He wants to be familiar with you. Let it happen. You’re Agatha’s seneschal and you’re a very beautiful specimen of humankind. Just let yourself be admired.]
Nothing too ostentatious. I was thinking a vest and jacket set with a french cuff shirt to match. I’m thinking for you deep purple and silver with charcoal accents. I’m still deciding what pants to pair them with.
[Yes that was definitely him looking for suggestions, if you have them.]
(Source: etsy.com)
He didn’t really tell me on purpose. It sort of… came up. He was worried too, you know.
[And of course that’s it. She knows that she’s loved — why would she be upset? She just finds it amusing, and kind of sweet, and she’s glad that he told her.
So she’s going to just kind of lean forward and press her forehead against his.
Oops glasses.
That could have gone better.]
[Oh, Vanamonde. He can picture it: the nervous coffee-wielding town leader shaking before his Heterodyne, accidentally telling her that he’s courting her consort. And of course Agatha being who she is she just smiles and reassures him, like she’s doing with Tarvek.]
Of course he was! I’m sorry I didn’t tell you soo—
[CLACK
And then chuckling. Forehead touches between four-eyes: cute, not romantic. Oh well. They’re wonderful anyway.]
[She really should have seen that coming, but she’s giggling too now.
Tarvek should laugh more often. It suits him. (And also leaves her with a warm tingly happy sort of feeling, but that’s beside the point.)
So she’s going to try that again, but she’s going to push her glasses to the top of her head first. Right.
Forehead touches achieved.
And also a hand in Tarvek’s hair because he has nice hair okay.]
[Speaking of warm tingly happy feelings, Tarvek is definitely full of those right now. Being so close to Agatha always had that kind of effect on him, and it’s only been growing with her little signs of affection.
He admired every part of her face as she pushed her glasses out of the way, still smiling, marveling at the tiny gesture of accommodation she was making for him. Every little thing she does always seems fantastic to him, almost unbelievable when it relates to him.
Mmm hand in the hair. That gentle, slightly tickling feeling. He pushed in closer to rub their noses together gently.]
You are really amazing, you know that.
[That was a statement, not a question.]
yaois for science
What I “get” is only that you’re a slightly less intolerable prick than I thought.
[His face betrayed his words. His arms were bound but his legs were free, and he pushed his knee between Tarvek’s hooking his ankle around the other spark’s. Gil strains forward and catches Tarvek’s lips again, brushing his upper leg against his inseam.]
[Tarvek twisted his face into a snarl, preparing a snippy comeback to Gil’s purposely infuriating response, but it got interuppted.
Thoroughly, roughly… and pleasantly.
A series of sounds that he couldn’t control escaped his lips into Gil’s. One of surprise, as he found himself falling forward into another crushing kiss, another when he melted back into that kiss, and a third the deepest from Gil’s careful use of friction.
The melting continues and Tarvek’s hands come off of the other man’s wrists, dropping back down to impatiently unbutton his shirt. He wants to feel a little skin, ok? don’t judge.
He’s also feeling a little nibbling on that lip there. It’s too pouty not to. He wants to encourage that grinding, too. Seriously, Gil don’t stop that.]
[Alright. Alright, she can do this. She can tell both of them what she wants and how she feels and that she thinks she’s, um, kind of a little bit in… well, maybe they can manage to make some sense of this.
…Oh who is she kidding, no she can’t, but Zeetha’s never going to let her back out now. She trusts her, of course but she still fails to see logically how can this be anything but a complete and unmitigated disaster. At least, that’s where all the evidence points, isn’t it?
The castle says something far too smug, and she snaps at it to shut up without thinking, continuing to slink off toward the kitchen. Of course this was now, of course she’d bolted and left them alone to probably try to kill each other, and would they even forgive her for running away on them? This was all going to end in flames. Why had she listened to Zeetha?
Well, now she’s staring at the door to the kitchen and there are weird noises coming from inside and if they kill each other she’s going to bring them back to life just to kill them both. She swears she will, and she sighs and throws open the door, prepared to storm in and shout at them, and —
oh.
Oh.
Well.
That… wasn’t what she’d been expecting.
Oh. Um.
Okay, maybe expecting them to be half-dead was a bit of an exaggeration on her part, but — oh.
It takes her a moment to take it in because her brain seems to have gone a bit fuzzy and she might be a little bit on fire and they’re… they’re kissing, aggressively, furiously, and she can’t look at anything and she can’t look away and her eyes are darting from the fierce moving press of their mouths together are those teeth those are teeth to the way Gil’s pinned to the wall to Tarvek’s hands splayed over the exposed expanse of his torso to one of Gil’s tangled in Tarvek’s hair oh god he’s pulling it, those noises to the way that they’re moving with each other, against each other, into each other.
Oh.
She gasps but she can’t even hear it. Her mouth’s gone dry and her mind’s gone blank and she can feel her heart pounding in her ears and they haven’t noticed her even though she’s standing there with eyes like dinner plates and she can’t even think of anything because she’s watching Tarvek rake his fingers down Gil’s bare sides as Gil’s dragging him closer by his hair and the noises they’re both making are shaking her to her core and she can’t do anything but stand there slackjawed with waves of bright heat rising in her face.
Even if she wanted to say something, she’s not exactly capable of it right now.
And she can’t really look away.]
[Neither of them are really in the mindset to be observant. Even Tarvek, master politician, the man who can analyze a war table better than master strategists with only a glance, was so enraptured in this embrace that he didn’t notice Agatha. Gil was shirtless and moving against him and moaning and he could really think of nothing else. This was nothing like those times in Paris, rushed, drunk, accidental. This was purposeful and honest and sober.
And this was the first time since he can remember that Tarvek had the upper hand. Damned if he wasn’t going to take full advantage, and so he did, making good use of the extra room in Gil’s too-big pants to slide a hand down into them.
Gil took this gesture to mean that Tarvek no longer wanted the upper hand, and swiftly swapped their places, pressing in close to get more friction out of Tarvek’s hand. Surprised, Tarvek opened his eyes to express some sass.
The quip was lost on his tongue when his opened eyes landed on Agatha in the doorway across the room.
Wait.
Agatha. In the door. Across the room. Watching. Them.]
Gil. Stop.
[Hands very quickly removed from pants. Very firmly and carefully pushing Gil away by his shoulders and turn him so he can see her. The world feels like it’s going to shatter. He has no idea what to say. He has no idea what just happened.
Is this even real?]
[She’s just not used to seeing him this… smiley. Outwardly happy isn’t something Tarvek is generally very good at, and when he’s like this, it has a way of making her smile, too.
Oh. Oh, that’s… that’s all? Tarvek, you’re ridiculous. She laughs a little, almost a giggle, and cups his hands with her free one, stroking her thumb across the back.]
Well, good!
[And, erm.]
Vanamonde had mentioned it, but I didn’t want to push you. But I’m glad you two are happy!
[Agatha what is that face you’re making. It’s smiley. And slightly patronizing and and not at all the face he was expecting. And laughing? What? He’s so confused.]
He… he did what? You… that’s it?
[He was expecting explosions in his face… or at least for her to be confused or slightly uncomfortable or something.]
Oh Agatha. Thank you.
[You’re wonderful and sweet and not jealous and he just. Loves you so much, ok? He still feels awkward though.]
He didn’t really tell me on purpose. It sort of… came up. He was worried too, you know.
[And of course that’s it. She knows that she’s loved — why would she be upset? She just finds it amusing, and kind of sweet, and she’s glad that he told her.
So she’s going to just kind of lean forward and press her forehead against his.
Oops glasses.
That could have gone better.]
[Oh, Vanamonde. He can picture it: the nervous coffee-wielding town leader shaking before his Heterodyne, accidentally telling her that he’s courting her consort. And of course Agatha being who she is she just smiles and reassures him, like she’s doing with Tarvek.]
Of course he was! I’m sorry I didn’t tell you soo—
[CLACK
And then chuckling. Forehead touches between four-eyes: cute, not romantic. Oh well. They’re wonderful anyway.]
heterodyned liked your post:Tarvek might, if he looks on his worktable, find a single sprig of coxcomb and grass tied with a red ribbon. You know. From no one special at all.
[He’s too busy relaxing to hear Agatha come into the room. He’s lost in thoughts of dandies and fashion and gentlemanly love, relaxed into his work chair. He’s almost dreaming and starts drifting into sleep when he heard the faint sounds of her boots on the floor.]
Hhmm?
[He mumbles, drifting gently back into wakefullness. He doesn’t bother being on the alert here; the only people with access to his lab were people he trusted. He didn’t want to be rude by being so sleepy but it had been such a long day and boy was he ready for sleep.]
[He’s sunk down into his work chair, relaxed for once, when she enters, and she almost leaves right then. She’s pretty sure he doesn’t sleep enough, anyway.
But as she moves to leave again he stirs and mumbles, but doesn’t jump, doesn’t really move. She leans on his chair and looks down at him and waits for him to be a little bit less bleary-eyed.
And he’s left his glasses on his desk, so she’s just going to pick those up and put them back on his nose for him.]
Tarvek? Vanamonde had said you’d wanted to talk to me, but if you’re tired right now I’ll just go.
[It’s easier to wake himself up with someone else in the room, and he’s starting to feel more lucid when that someone leans on his chair and reveals itself to be Agatha. He feels that strange warmth he gets whenever she’s around and he smiles at her as she puts his glasses on.
She’s always so beautiful and his still-waking mind is distracted by her and takes a moment to process what she says. That sobers him up nicely.]
Oh, right. Yes, there’s something I wanted to tell you.
[He pulls out his second working chair and moves the pile of fabric and notions off it for her.]
[He seems… really happy. Huh. That’s strange. Good — at least, she thinks so — but strange.
She sits down as he busies himself moving around piles of supplies, looking over the work table. It’s littered in sketches and fabric and pages of notes. Someone’s been busy. And Sparky.]
Well, tell me then.
[What are you talking about? He’s been happy for months! Living with Agatha and Gil, having a workshop and the ability to work on what he wants, and owning the political stage. Being good at things makes him happy.
… but you’re right. The added limerence of having Vanamonde in his life is certainly making him a little extra smiley.
She’s being so straightforward. He did no verbal dancing around Agatha and he had to steel himself a bit for coming straight out with it. He took a breath, and very carefully her hand with both of his. How is he going to say this?]
I am… I have been courting your seneschal.
[There. It’s out.]
[She’s just not used to seeing him this… smiley. Outwardly happy isn’t something Tarvek is generally very good at, and when he’s like this, it has a way of making her smile, too.
Oh. Oh, that’s… that’s all? Tarvek, you’re ridiculous. She laughs a little, almost a giggle, and cups his hands with her free one, stroking her thumb across the back.]
Well, good!
[And, erm.]
Vanamonde had mentioned it, but I didn’t want to push you. But I’m glad you two are happy!
[Agatha what is that face you’re making. It’s smiley. And slightly patronizing and and not at all the face he was expecting. And laughing? What? He’s so confused.]
He… he did what? You… that’s it?
[He was expecting explosions in his face… or at least for her to be confused or slightly uncomfortable or something.]
Oh Agatha. Thank you.
[You’re wonderful and sweet and not jealous and he just. Loves you so much, ok? He still feels awkward though.]
[Tarvek will knock gently at the door because he knows Van will probably be shocked if he’s too loud. He didn’t bring anything with him for once, he was just in a hurry to see him. His Vanamonde, his silly under-appreciated Seneschal. He wondered how many times he would have to tell him how wonderful he is before he’d believe it. Tarvek wondered how many times he needed himself to be told before he’d believe it.]
Van?
[For a brief, absurd moment, Van actually worries about presenting himself as a tea-drinker and what Tarvek might think. He’s never really talked to someone without a coffee to fortify him, and he worries that he might need it more than ever right now. Why did he ask Tarvek to come? He doesn’t actually know what he wants to say. It’s all a swirling mass of warmth and appreciation and love, and how do you articulate that? He doesn’t even have any flowers on-hand that can say it for him.
And then Tarvek knocks and Van is opening the door before he has time to contemplate it. He’s simply too well-trained.]
Tarvek.
[For a moment he just stands there, and then he’s hugging Tarvek very, very tight, right there on the doorstep, face pressed into Tarvek’s shoulder. That should get his feelings across well enough.]
[He’s not sure what to do with that face, Vanamonde. It’s full of emotions and don’t you know that Tarvek is bad at those? Those eyes are expressing so much and he can read all of it and he really isn’t sure what to do, so he’s really relieved when the decision is made for him. His world is suddenly wrapped in Van. Van arms, Van smell. He was wrapped in desperate arms and the smell of the coffeeshop, with just a little hint of Van himself; hair product, high quality cloth… and tea?]
Hey. You’re ok.
[He takes the cue and enfolds Van as much as he’s able, holding the seneschal’s shoulders to pull him close and burying his face in that absurd two-toned hair. His fingers trace gentle patterns into his back when they were done clinging. He figured that the other man needed some kissing, but he was holding him too close to have much access to the very kissable face. He made do with the top of the head, kissing it repeatedly.]
[Much as Van wanted to just stay like this for an indefinite amount of time, they were standing on his doorstep and his tea was probably getting cold and all the cold night air was getting in.]
Come in.
[It’s mumbled into Tarvek’s shoulder like he half doesn’t want him to hear it, and he reluctantly pulls away, hands sliding from Tarvek’s back and down his arms to pull him inside by his hands. There used to be a time he’d never be quite so physically intimate, a time when he was still foremost a minion and Tarvek was still foremost a Prince and a Spark and an Advisor and Agatha’s. Now it seems perfectly natural two twine his fingers with Tarvek’s, to rub his palm against the soft leather of Tarvek’s gloves, because Tarvek was also in some small indescribable way his.
Not that he’d ever tell Tarvek that. He wasn’t sure how much of the Prince’s affections he occupied, though he knew it was a substantial amount.]
[As glad as Tarvek would be to just stay there and hold Van until he couldn’t stand anymore, he was even more glad to get the cold wind off his back and go inside. The inviting warmth of the house bit against his fold face and he shivered at the temperature change. The way Van gently led him by his hands made it obvious he was enjoying the texture of the leather as well as the hands it housed.
He loved the way he didn’t have to think to read the blue eyed dandy. They were open with each other, in some subtle unspoken way, and he didn’t have to work hard to get the reactions he wanted out of him or worry much about how he was presenting himself. He knew Van could see past the acting, and that gave him permission to relax, to be genuine. It wasn’t that he was ingenuine with Gil or with Agatha, he just had to work harder to present himself correctly and honestly. Especially Gil. Agatha was easier, but she still didn’t have that ability to see right though him.
He gave those hands a gentle squeeze before shrugging off his coat and pulling off the gloves, leaving them unceremoniously by the door. Much better. Hand holding without gloves was superior to with, and he loved Vanamonde’s hands. Taking them back up, he stands a bit closer so he has to bend his neck down in order to look him in the face and massages the tops of his hands gently with his thumbs.]
[He’s too busy relaxing to hear Agatha come into the room. He’s lost in thoughts of dandies and fashion and gentlemanly love, relaxed into his work chair. He’s almost dreaming and starts drifting into sleep when he heard the faint sounds of her boots on the floor.]
Hhmm?
[He mumbles, drifting gently back into wakefullness. He doesn’t bother being on the alert here; the only people with access to his lab were people he trusted. He didn’t want to be rude by being so sleepy but it had been such a long day and boy was he ready for sleep.]
[He’s sunk down into his work chair, relaxed for once, when she enters, and she almost leaves right then. She’s pretty sure he doesn’t sleep enough, anyway.
But as she moves to leave again he stirs and mumbles, but doesn’t jump, doesn’t really move. She leans on his chair and looks down at him and waits for him to be a little bit less bleary-eyed.
And he’s left his glasses on his desk, so she’s just going to pick those up and put them back on his nose for him.]
Tarvek? Vanamonde had said you’d wanted to talk to me, but if you’re tired right now I’ll just go.
[It’s easier to wake himself up with someone else in the room, and he’s starting to feel more lucid when that someone leans on his chair and reveals itself to be Agatha. He feels that strange warmth he gets whenever she’s around and he smiles at her as she puts his glasses on.
She’s always so beautiful and his still-waking mind is distracted by her and takes a moment to process what she says. That sobers him up nicely.]
Oh, right. Yes, there’s something I wanted to tell you.
[He pulls out his second working chair and moves the pile of fabric and notions off it for her.]
[He seems… really happy. Huh. That’s strange. Good — at least, she thinks so — but strange.
She sits down as he busies himself moving around piles of supplies, looking over the work table. It’s littered in sketches and fabric and pages of notes. Someone’s been busy. And Sparky.]
Well, tell me then.
[What are you talking about? He’s been happy for months! Living with Agatha and Gil, having a workshop and the ability to work on what he wants, and owning the political stage. Being good at things makes him happy.
… but you’re right. The added limerence of having Vanamonde in his life is certainly making him a little extra smiley.
She’s being so straightforward. He did no verbal dancing around Agatha and he had to steel himself a bit for coming straight out with it. He took a breath, and very carefully her hand with both of his. How is he going to say this?]
I am… I have been courting your seneschal.
[There. It’s out.]
[He’s too busy relaxing to hear Agatha come into the room. He’s lost in thoughts of dandies and fashion and gentlemanly love, relaxed into his work chair. He’s almost dreaming and starts drifting into sleep when he heard the faint sounds of her boots on the floor.]
Hhmm?
[He mumbles, drifting gently back into wakefullness. He doesn’t bother being on the alert here; the only people with access to his lab were people he trusted. He didn’t want to be rude by being so sleepy but it had been such a long day and boy was he ready for sleep.]
[He’s sunk down into his work chair, relaxed for once, when she enters, and she almost leaves right then. She’s pretty sure he doesn’t sleep enough, anyway.
But as she moves to leave again he stirs and mumbles, but doesn’t jump, doesn’t really move. She leans on his chair and looks down at him and waits for him to be a little bit less bleary-eyed.
And he’s left his glasses on his desk, so she’s just going to pick those up and put them back on his nose for him.]
Tarvek? Vanamonde had said you’d wanted to talk to me, but if you’re tired right now I’ll just go.
[It’s easier to wake himself up with someone else in the room, and he’s starting to feel more lucid when that someone leans on his chair and reveals itself to be Agatha. He feels that strange warmth he gets whenever she’s around and he smiles at her as she puts his glasses on.
She’s always so beautiful and his still-waking mind is distracted by her and takes a moment to process what she says. That sobers him up nicely.]
Oh, right. Yes, there’s something I wanted to tell you.
[He pulls out his second working chair and moves the pile of fabric and notions off it for her.]
[He’s still got a bit of the spark shining in his eyes as he presents the seneschal with the modified machine proudly.]
I added ten new settings and rerouted the thread here, and made the energy uptake more efficient so that it will move faster…
[He noticed the pile of spoils Vanamonde had brought back]
Ah, yes perfect! Oh, what exquisite taste in texture! Wonderful! These will go together perfectly! I couldn’t have picked better myself!
[He spreads some of the fabric out to inspect it, smiling and looking almost disturbingly happy.
Then he rounds on Vanamonde]
All right, you, get those extra layers off I need your measurements.
[What.
Van blinks, about to protest before he realizes he’s already shrugged off his coat and his hands are on the buttons of his vest. Tarvek. You two are going to have to discuss appropriate use of Sparkvoice because this is ridiculous.
He wants to say that he doesn’t understand why this is happening, that his own wardrobe is perfectly adequate, but Tarvek seems so excited and it would be terrible etiquette and he is kind of secretly pleased to be paid so much attention to.]
I did try to get fabrics I knew you would like and be familiar with, hence choosing fabrics I’ve already seen you wearing. You do a good bit of your own tailoring, am I correct?
[Shhh proper use of spark voice is clearly to get Van undressed and get his measurements for clothing.
Best use of time is making pretty clothes for Vanamonde. Tarvek couldn’t think of anyone better to make clothes for.]
Oh now you’re flirting. I like that. And yes I do! Very observant of you. Your obvious taste just keeps showing, Herr Von Mekkhan.
[And he’s measuring. Not worrying in the slightest about getting all up in Van’s business. He might be just a tad over handsy, but that could also totally be in your head, Van.]
[No, no, Van is pretty sure it’s not all in his head. He hasn’t had any Perfect Coffee yet today, he’s still quite sober.
He can’t help but blush when Tarvek calls him out on flirting, though. He hadn’t really meant to — he’d been trying to tone it down as best he could, in fact — but if Tarvek was flirting back, that meant it was okay, right?
God, this is so confusing. It’s hard. It’s hard and no one understands. It was never like this with the pretty Mechanicsburg girls he’d woo from his booth.]
I can’t help but be observant, your highness. It is my job, you know.
[Oh gosh. Is he allowed to flirt back? Might as well try it.]
And if my job provides me with ample opportunity to look at you, then I can’t really complain.
[You’re really doing nothing to discourage him with that blushing. Honestly, he might be too busy getting excited about fitting you to notice anyway. Being observant is his job as well, but it’s hard to do when he’s sparking at one of his favorite things, and also fumbling around with measuring tape, so he’s actually less aware of Vanamonde’s discomfort and uncertainty than he normally would.
Flirting with the pretty seneschal just seemed like the reasonable course of action.]
Tarvek, please. I can’t abide a creature as handsome as yourself staying so informal with me.
[Flash Vanamonde a smile charmingly. Laying it on too thick? Oh well.]
(Source: etsy.com)
