fallingbackup | The time of our great undoing

When Kevin woke up alone for the first time in months, he knew almost immediately that Glen was gone. If he were still human, he'd have looked everywhere for the man until he'd at least tracked down one of his Chains, and gotten confirmation from them that he was no longer in the world with them. But as it was, he could smell that the very spot he was laying on was the spot where Glen's trail had gone cold. The duke had vanished from the bed they shared as the knight slept.

That was well over a week ago now and in his head, Kevin's been lost ever since. He's done the best he can to take over Glen's duties around the house, and the Jabberwock, for whatever reason, has let him do it. But no matter how he tells himself that he's only minding things until Glen returns, and that he will, the atmosphere in the house rankles against him. Young Gilbert doesn't accept him -- not like this. The little Lacie pities him for the depth of his sadness; Lottie scoffs at him for thinking he can even attempt to fill Glen's shoes, even if he knows perfectly well he's only providing a poor substitute. With every day that passes, he feels more and more withdrawn, and so, when he can, Kevin escapes. He can be found wandering the city, now and again, letting the noise of it drown out his own thoughts. Or he can be found patrolling the fences around the farmlands as usual, perhaps in the hopes that the familiar solitude of it will help keep him in his right mind. But the truth is that Kevin hasn't felt this out of place and unsettled in at least a year, since he'd come to live in Glen's house in the first place. He'd thought he was home at last, that he'd found a new family and even a little peace. Now, it seems that all of that peace was in Glen all along, and Kevin has no idea when or if the duke will return.

But the most upsetting part of it all is what he does know. If Glen has really gone home, he's no doubt living through the Tragedy. Right now, somewhere, Kevin's Oswald is staring at the man who's broken his heart, there are swords raised between them, and the duke is maybe just realizing that he's going to die on that blade because Jack Vessalius never did love him enough.

And Kevin can't do anything about it.

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"No."

He never is, after a fight. Kevin's got a hilarious habit of dozing off right after sex, but after a fight, when someone's just been trying to kill him -- it's a different sort of adrenaline, and it takes him a while to come down from it. He leans into his lover's embrace gratefully, holding her close, nuzzling into her hair like an affectionate cat. Occasionally, they take other partners into their bed, but no one but Lacie gets these sorts of touches from him.

"I could use one of your back rubs," he says. Partially because he wants one, dammit, he never gets tired of them. Partially because he knows it'll please her if the werewolf walks in on such a thing -- intimate without being overtly sexual, probably exactly the sort of thing that will ping him. Kevin could live without his doppleganger in his bed, really, but if Lacie's going to seduce him for herself, this is the way they'll manage it. Show him all the things that aren't fucking that he's missing, by holding himself apart.

Lacie smiles, her hands moving to his back from this position, fingers pressing firmly into his lower back and moving in slow circles. She moves up his spine, in this way, slow, firm circles in the muscles to either side of his vertebrae, then out to massage the muscles around his shoulder blades, too.

... Then she stops, and leans up to kiss him.

"Hold that thought, while I take him some towels," she murmurs, "I'll be right back."

She pauses, halfway to the door, glancing back at him. "I'll even do your shoulders and neck, if you get the extra blankets I talked about."

...oh.

He was going to do that anyway, actually, but. Well. Apparently Lacie thinks he needs bribing, or at least she thinks bribing him is worth it to settle the deal completely. Kevin immensely enjoys being bribed, and so he will pretend that this is an order he is following instead of a favor he'd already planned on.

"Hn," he says firmly, which Lacie will understand as a yes because it isn't a no. Yes, he will go and fetch the extra blankets. But he is going to pretend he isn't happy about it.

Truly, she's pretending just as much as he is. She'd known he'd probably do it anyway, just as she would've probably gotten to his shoulders and neck as well, if the other Kevin took long enough to get out of the tub. But sometimes bribery is a fun game to play.

She gives him a final grin, then goes to pull two large fluffy towels out of the cupboard. (As a long-haired individual herself, she knows it's always best to have one for you and a one for your hair.) She only gives a perfunctory knock, before opening the bathroom door and stepping inside.

"You know, our Lacie in the last place used to pull this sort of crap," the wolf drawls as she enters the room.

He's made himself right at home, actually, figuring that the best way to cope with being an unwilling houseguest is to be an invader instead. To that end, he has taken the liberty of stealing one of the other Kevin's hair ties and piling all of his hair on top of his head to keep it dry, leaving his clothing carelessly piled in the most inconvenient spot he could find (right behind the door, where it will get in Lacie's way), and pilfering one of her stinky bubble bath liquids for himself. He sort of regrets this last, because now the entire world smells like nothing but roses and sandalwood to his sensitive nose. But he has bubbles hiding his private bits and he feels satisfied that the point has been made.

Later, he intends to use both of their hairbrushes, out of spite. The way a wolfy Break marks his territory and whatnot, you know.

"A nasty bout of influenza went 'round the city once and it brought me down so quickly I fell asleep in my clothes that first night. The next morning she barged in and ripped my trousers off when I wouldn't change into pajamas quickly enough to suit her." Stinkeye goes here.

Lacie can't help but laugh at that, setting the towels on the little table not far from the tub. She doesn't seem much phased by either his clothes being in the way, or his use of her bubble bath. She knows her own Kevin well enough to be able to guess that he's going to try to be obnoxious. It's too simple for him to just give in and try to enjoy himself.

(Though, if she'd known that hiding his private bits was part of his choice in the bubbles, she'd laugh even harder. After all, she's been quite intimately acquainted with an identical set of them for a long while, now, unless becoming a werewolf had done something interesting to them.)

"Well, it's good to know I'm the same person no matter where I am!" she says, unrepentantly. "Do you need anything else? A robe? Someone to scrub your back?"

(Of course, the best way to fight back is to play the accommodating hostess!)

Edited 2015-03-03 11:48 (UTC)

"Oh, no, thank you; I am just going to stay in here until the water gets cold."

Handflap, handflap. This is an empty threat. Kevin's body temperature is higher now and he has to run the water scalding just to get a toasty bath, and it won't stay warm enough for him for long. Even so.

"Suit yourself," Lacie says with a careless shrug, fighting the urge to walk over and splash him with his own bubble-water just for fun. If he'd been her Kevin she certainly would have, then climbed in herself.

Instead, she slips back out of the room and goes in search of that very Kevin, humming as she goes, just to show fluffy how unconcerned with his pouting she is.

She'll find the relevant Kevin in the bedroom, fixing up the bed just so with the extra blankets she'd asked for. He's left a few folded up off to the side, just in case the werewolf decides to flounce off in a huff and spend the night downstairs on the chaise. He glances up when Lacie walks in, holding an arm out so he can pull her close for a little while, indulging in their private proximity.

"Did you do something wretched?" he asks. If Lacie's humming like that, she's either gloating or rubbing something in.

The time of our great undoing

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