[026] OOM - There's no place like home

[tristranthorn]

His shoulder and arm are - thankfully - healed completely at this point. It has been many weeks, but the help of pain medication, good stress-free rest, and delicious food helped splendidly in his recovery.

However, the time to return to Faerie draws near. On the one hand, Tristran is quite glad of it. It is their home, after all, and he is looking forward to really starting...well, things with Yvaine. But on the other, there is the ever-looming realization that he will soon have to inherit an entire kingdom and the responsibility of it all is somewhat staggering.

His shoulder is still a little stiff from the lack of use, but at least he is now able to do things with both of his arms. It is a very good feeling.

He glances over at Yvaine.

Now it is simply a matter of bringing up the whole ... going home thing - if she doesn't bring it up first.

Comments

[tristranthorn]

"I -"

Okay, she has got to stop that. Seriously. It is beginning to render him completely useless (and he has enough embarrassment).

"It doesn't matter. Anyway, if we want to go back home, we have to get this place looking less like a storm has passed through it."

[an_evening_star]

"Fine, yes. Home," her eyes cast skyward for a moment, pressing a quick kiss to his chin before she turns once more. "We will change the subject - drop it entirely."

The song she starts up once she's leaning over to retrieve a (surprisingly) neatly folded pile from the floor, however, sounds rather suspiciously familiar.

[tristranthorn]

All right.

So.

Tristran is going to ignore that with every ounce of his being, while his face heats up like a slowly building fireplace.

He turns to pack away the mess of things on the bed, focusing all of his attention upon the task.

Yvaine can be so cruel, sometimes. (Emotear.)

[an_evening_star]

Tristran really should be used to this by now. (Your emotear is ignored. Blatantly.)

And it's a perfectly nice song.

She winds easily with it - changing a note here and there, yes, but stepping in some crooked sort of dance and draping this or that over an arm and over a shoulder.

It's rather impressive, actually, how well the things here and there fit into something that vaguely resembles organized groups.

[tristranthorn]

Yvaine does sing it nicer.

It's a song his mother used to sing to Louisa and him before bed from so, so long ago.

The heat in his face slowly recedes into nothingness as he continues to work - quite deliberately not looking in the star's direction - to clean the room.

For a small room, it certainly seems bigger when one takes the messes into account.

[an_evening_star]

Oh, it's not that bad.

The song tapers off easily as the last of her armful gets folded neatly onto the bureau shelves.

"Are there words?" she inquires curiously, tweaking his cheek and grinning impishly as she steps past, knocking the drawer of bedside table closed with her hip.

[tristranthorn]

"There were," Tristran answers as nonchalantly as he can, really wishing she would drop the darned thing already.

"I cannot remember any of them, though."

All that he remembers is a tune.

[an_evening_star]

"Am I upsetting you, dear?"

She leans herself slightly against the edge of the table, eyes bright and smile utterly guileless.

Shiny and innocent.

[tristranthorn]

"No."

Maybe.

A little.

Hmph.

[an_evening_star]

Poor dear.

A laugh, and she crooks her finger.

"Come here."

[tristranthorn]

He packs away the stack of shirts before casually making his way towards her.

"Yes?"

[an_evening_star]

She waits until he's close enough for her to catch the seams of his shirt and tugs him a bit closer, fingers tangling easily into the material.

"My most sincere apologies, Prince Charming," she answers, tilting her chin up. "You do forgive me, yes?"

[tristranthorn]

She's really perfected this whole manipulativeness to an art, that Yvaine.

Slowly he winds his arms around her slender waist.

"I suppose," he starts before drawing out a pause. "Maybe."

[an_evening_star]

Ah, but he's learning.

"Maybe?"

She leans herself up a bit more, head tilting curiously to one side.

"Am I to prove that I am genuinely sorry?"

[tristranthorn]

"You could try," he says - and there may be a hint of something (mischief, perhaps?) in his voice.

If you listen closely enough.

[an_evening_star]

"I could," she agrees, lips twitching slightly. "Should do something nice."

She straightens fully, arms rising to thread themselves into the curls at the base of his neck, leaning close enough that her eyelashes fan against his cheek.

The sudden grin is very nearly a tangible thing.

"Room's clean."

[tristranthorn]

Well, then.

"Good." he responds, his voice low, his breath no doubt hot against her skin, as the two of them are close enough.

For a moment, there is simply warmth and tingling and a charge of tension. It is unmistakable.

And then in one slightly breathless moment, Tristran pulls back and clears his throat. "I'm glad."

[an_evening_star]

Wait. Wait - what?

That is the entirely wrong answer.

She slumps a bit, rather like a puppet with its strings cut, and lets out one hitching, slightly startled breath - looking rather decidedly put out.

Her lips are tingling in an entirely misleading way.

[tristranthorn]

Tristran had totally expected that sort of response.

Still, he isn't doing anything to rectify the situation just yet.

"So, what do you suppose we'll need when we head back to Faerie?" he asks casually.

[an_evening_star]

That - that's just unfair.

She's supposed to be the one who wins these games. She's better at these games. Something is wrong with the universe.

"Might need your overly attractive head still attached to your too-bloody-fucking-attractive body, she grumbles under her breath, fingers to her lips and eyes narrowed at the flooring.

[tristranthorn]

Tristran?

Starts to smile. Just a bit. His hands rub up and down both her arms. And he tries to look into her face.

"You cannot expect to tease me without being teased in return," he tells her, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead before she can pull away or protest.

He might suck at it on a whole, but he's learning. (You should be proud, Yvaine.)

[an_evening_star]

She is.

Or, rather, she would be - if she wasn't working on maintaining a rather perfect state of sulking dejectedness.

... not that its perfection wasn't already marred by the rather obvious flush across her nose. (Darn being pale.)

The glare flickers upward, "But I was going to kiss you after."

[tristranthorn]

He grins.

"Well, you are welcome to kiss me now," he says innocently.

You know you want to.

[an_evening_star]

"I could," she agrees easily enough, fingers still curled around the edge of the bedside table - though the holding is a bit more forceful. "Might not be inclined to anymore."

It doesn't sounds half as convincing as she had intended.

[tristranthorn]

Tristran might pout at that - if he was the sort to do so.

As it is, he does move a little closer towards her, quickly closing whatever distance had been between them. There is a very light hum along his skin where he touches her.

"Perhaps I could change that," he suggests, then adds, "if I may."