Laurent of Vere

Though Damen had been shown how to use his phone in various manners and for various purposes, he had yet to find much use for it. Over two decades of habit had ingrained in him that if a person was not within shouting distance or could not be found quickly or easily, the topic one wished to share with them could be saved for later.

However, he had learned the importance of keeping the device nearby as he could see its usefulness. And it always stayed innocuously quiet.

So quiet, in fact, that Damen at first didn't understand why there was a buzzing coming from his kitchen table. He glanced over from where he was sat watching a program of competitive cooking. Frowning across the room, he muted the television. And listened once more.

Another short burst of buzzing had him on his feet to investigate.

He found the phone only moments later, a press of a button illuminating a bubble of text across the front screen. Brow furrowed, he tapped on the blurb to respond.

Laurent?

Only after pressing send did he realize his stupidity. As foreign as it was to receive a missive of this nature from Laurent, his name was still clearly declared across the conversation. And the words themselves were very much written in Laurent's judgmental tone.

A sentry is not as beautiful or as powerful as the sea. He paused again, staring down at his phone in growing curiosity before very slowly typing once more. Are these the thoughts that plague you when we're apart?

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The phone leapt in Laurent's hands as he stared at it, and Laurent sagged against the countertop, his knees weak with the sudden realization that he was not on his own. And of course he wasn't - not with a sleeping child in the next room, but he had felt it. His responsibility was so great, and he himself untested in guiding a child. There'd been no time to prepare for one as troubled and complicated as Nicaise, yet as Laurent gazed at Damen's words on his phone he felt much less alone.

Today, yes, he wrote back. The location was selected for its beauty. How then may Veretians be called vain?

Edited Date: 2017-01-24 03:48 am (UTC)

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Unsurprisingly, Laurent could input his message much faster than Damen, his response buzzing through after only a few moments.

Damen smirked at the response and barely refrained from fondly rolling his eyes. Only partially for its beauty, he replied, once again painstakingly finding each button one by one. Akielons appreciate that beauty can have its uses. We simply feel no need to overuse.

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It is strange to me that a country that celebrates modesty would grow men of such exorbitant size.

Laurent sent the note and drank from his water, observing as if from afar how his fingers trembled against the glass. He let go of it and balled his hand until it was time to type again.

But I agree. Beauty does have its uses.

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Perhaps we only desire for what we cannot create ourselves, Damen responded, not bothering to hide the smile that tugged at his lips if only because here there was no one to hide it from.

He paused then, watched the little floating bubbles on his screen before another message from Laurent popped up. He read it and, was oddly struck by why this was happening. Why, after all these months, Laurent was choosing to use this method of communication when there was clearly no emergency.

His fingers hovered over his phone, smile slipping into a curious frown before he started tapping buttons again. Do you need something?

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That explains your attraction to me.

His phone vibrated, and Laurent paused in typing a new message. He surely did need something, but he hardly knew what, and even so Laurent knew it wasn't anything Damen could provide. At least, not for Nicaise. The boy was something Laurent would have to navigate on his own. It helped, however, to simply be listened to.

No. Thank you for answering, Damen.

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In truth, Damen's attraction to Laurent both defied all reason and made entirely too much sense. He could still remember all too well the first time he'd laid eyes upon Laurent, before Damen knew him at all. Damen had wanted him even then.

His phone buzzed again before he could come up with a suitable counter and he frowned at the words that popped onto the screen. Something did not feel right.

Unsure of how to proceed for a moment, Damen's fingers hovered over the device. Then:

I have made myself an abundance of soup for the evening. Would you like some?

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Laurent gazed down at the text with a strangled feeling in his throat. For a moment, he allowed himself to entertain the idea of leaving, of retreating from this apartment and its occupant to the life he'd had only earlier today, not simple, but far simpler than this. He would not, of course, and he was too unused to imagining happiness to keep hold of the fantasy for long.

At length, Laurent exhaled and began to type.

No, thank you. I've ordered dinner.

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The response did not appear for a long moment and Damen's frown deepened at the words.

Then I will bring only myself, he wrote, the stranger worry he harbored low in his gut spurring him to grab his coat from the hall closet and shove on his shoes. The fact that he was wearing little more than a pair of loose-fitting trousers and an oversized sleeve-less shirt barely occurred to him.

Edited Date: 2017-01-25 06:17 am (UTC)

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Laurent stared down at his screen. He'd had no opportunity to warn either of them, and his mind stalled with rare panic. That Nicaise must stay here was certain. That Damen would be irate was also certain, and Laurent attempted to turn his frayed thoughts to weighing the pros and cons of waiting another day before he broached the topic.

His fingers moved, beginning to type out a new message to delay Damen when a sharp knock sounded at the door. Laurent sprang from his chair as if shot by an arrow, and it was only as he opened the door that he realized it could not be Damen.

'Pheasant and chocolate?' asked the boy on the other side. Laurent stared at him until he began to fidget and look inside the bag. 'It's all here. Rice, bread. Birds. We good?'

Shaking himself, Laurent reached out and took the bag. 'Yes.' He fished awkwardly into his pants pocket and pulled out several bills. They were more than the food and the tip combined, but he pressed them into the boy's chest, half pushing him into the hall.

'Donovan's thanks you for your business!' he heard as he firmly shut the door, and Laurent rested all his weight against it.

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In the time it took for Damen to leave his dwelling and being his walk to Laurent's terrace, there was no further correspondence from Laurent himself, which Damen chose to take as indication that Laurent did not oppose his arrival.

There were few things Damen had taken to easily in this city, but transportation was one of them. Though he still did not know how to operate a vehicle himself, he was well acquainted with the workings of the bus system as well as what people called taxis, and he employed the use of one now, paying the proper amount of coin once he was delivered just outside of Laurent's complex as well as offering his driver a smile and open gratitude for the service.

In moments, he was outside Laurent's door and he wasted no time in knocking, checking the device in his pocket one more time only after he'd done so. Still, Laurent had not left him no message.

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Laurent breathed in deeply through his nose. He had remained against the door for some time, his eyes closed and his hand still clutching the paper delivery bag. He breathed in and in, but his pulse would not slow. He had just resolved to make tea when another knock vibrated the door against his back, and Laurent's stomach lurched.

Turning, he pried open the door with his free hand and glowered. 'The tip could not have been inadequate,' he began, but Laurent paled at the sight of Damen. He opened his mouth.

'Soup.'

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There were no footsteps before the door was being wrenched open before him, expression cloudy and words bewildering.

'Tip?' Damen asked just as Laurent added a single, even stranger word. He paused for a moment, glancing down at the bag Laurent held in one hand as he tried to piece events together. 'As I said, I left it,' he said, brow furrowed still. He was not accustomed to seeing Laurent in open disarray. It was far more unsettling than he might have expected.

He didn't invite himself in, but stood, still studying. And said, 'That is quite a lot of food for one person.'

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A banging sound woke Nicaise. He hadn't meant to fall asleep in the first place, but the cushions had looked so inviting. He hadn't slept well in days, if at all. The door to the library was still ajar and through it Nicaise heard voices. He sat up, setting the book aside, wondering who it could be. Laurent said he lived alone.

Nicaise got up, and there was another knocking, another voice. Was it people from the children's home come here to bring him back? Some other threat, perhaps? He looked around, but the room was sparse. A pen sat on the desk, it wasn't much of a weapon, but he picked up and walked confidently into the other room despite the hammering of his heart. He wouldn't let them take him.

He stopped, stood there, rumpled and sleepy in a slightly too-large shirt and jeans, and glowered at who he found in the doorway.

"I thought you said they didn't allow pets," he said accusingly to Laurent.

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'Yes,' said Laurent, staring helplessly back at Damen, then, 'Yes,' at the sound of Nicaise's voice. It was impossible to imagine that he would not be roused by all the noise, yet Laurent had hoped to delay this, for all their sakes.

'Come in, Damen,' he said, turning back to Nicaise. His gaze dropped briefly to the pen in Nicaise's hand, gripped tight beneath the bandages that wrapped his forearm. 'Darrow has neither slaves nor pets,' he said, searching for calm, 'And there will be no need to write anything.' He settled the bag on the table and pulled out a chair for Nicaise, extending his hand for the pen. His next question was pitched for all.

'I hope I may trust everyone with forks and knives?'

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A movement out the corner of Damen's eyes caught his attention and he glanced over, arching an eyebrow in surprise at the sight of a young, familiar face. The child's tone, when he spoke, was just as sharp as Damen remembered it and he carried a pen like a weapon.

Laurent's strange suddenly made more sense, however.

'I see it's your turn housing children,' he said, keeping his voice very calm. He took no further steps forward.

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Nicaise walked with his usual grace over to the larger eating table. He ignored the Akielon, his face a cool mask to show he wasn't afraid. Whether pets or slaves were allowed or not, he was still here, and Nicaise considered himself superior to him.

"Then why has he brought you food?" he asked, handing Laurent the pen and then primly sitting down. He would make no promises about cutlery if the giant came near him.

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Laurent breathed in carefully through his nose. To his mind, Damen had housed precisely zero children, only an Akielon one year Laurent's junior, who Damen had met but a single time. He ignored it and went to the refrigerator, deciding to add a small salad to Nicaise's diet. He would need the iron.

'The food is from a restaurant,' he said, placing a small bowl of greens before Nicaise. He pulled the plastic silverware from the bag and used it to begin cutting the pheasant into portions appropriate for a sick child's stomach.

He looked up at Damen between strokes of his knife. 'You are letting out all the warm air.'

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Laurent seemed to barely address Damen as Nicaise sat himself at the table, letting himself be cared for as though he had suddenly become a pet of Laurent's. There was a gentleness in the way Laurent cut the meat, a gentleness Damen had seen so rarely, and he was suddenly struck by the memory of sapphires and Laurent's bruised skin.

Some of his anger deflated as he formed some bit of understanding, but he remained silent as he closed the door behind him.

'What has happened to him?' he asked, noting the bandage wrapped around one of the boy's wrists.

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As a palace pet, Nicaise was well used to being served, so he waited patiently and watched as Laurent prepared his food. Compounded by the Akielon's presence, he was ready to press Laurent more about his no pets claim if he tried to actually feed him.

But the Akielon spoke first and Nicaise leveled him with a glare from across the room. "How is it your business?" He looked to Laurent. "Why is he here?"

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Laurent placed a plate with pheasant and a much larger portion of wild rice before Nicaise, not allowing his eyes to drop to the offending bandages. 'Nicaise's stay at the children's home proved untenable,' he said simply, resisting the urge to sink into the chair nearest where Damen lingered. Instead, he poured himself a glass of water and drank from it, hoping that the cool would prove soothing.

'Damen and I went through much since our parting in Arles,' he told Nicaise, hesitating in the form of taking another sip. How soon could Nicaise bear the incredible truth that they were lovers, moreover, that Damen wasn't Damen at all, but Damianos? 'I trust him with my life, and so can you.'

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Frowning still, Damen turned his attention to Laurent, watching the careful bob of his throat as he took a long drink of water. He was being careful with his wording, Damen noticed. Careful in a way Damen hadn't seen in months. There was no mention of him and Damen as lovers, a fact that did not settle well with Damen at all.

And yet, the words he did speak unsettled him in an entirely different way.

'We are friends,' he said, masking his surprise. 'And equals. And you would do best to accept that sooner rather than later.'

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Nicaise's mouth fell open and his cheeks bloomed red when Laurent actually told the Akielon about what happened at the children's home. Laurent didn't go into detail, but it was still more than he would ever want the barbarian pet to know. Nicaise's hands disappeared under the table so his bandages wouldn't be visible.

He did not know what Laurent meant by a parting at Arles. More astounding was that Laurent trusted anyone with his life, an Akielon no less, and to openly admit it? Nicaise thought briefly about the way Laurent had looked before he left the palace, how Damen was at his side, and sneered down at his plate of food.

His eyes cut to the Akielon and he did not hide the disdain in his expression. "I don't take orders from Akielon dogs."

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Laurent exhaled. He would prefer Nicaise to eat his food. He would prefer that he never have harmed himself at all, nor been killed at home. He would prefer a great many things that could not be, and Laurent could find no more reason to prevaricate.

At home, it might have been a game, one genuinely amusing to Laurent, but meant to sharpen Nicaise's already quick mind. Here, Laurent was blunt. 'It was not an order, and he is not a dog. He is a King, Nicaise, or was, before this place stripped him of his title.'

Laurent looked from Nicaise to Damen. 'This is Damianos.'

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