aymeric "national ass et" de borel (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
revolutionne) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thefeywood2020-11-11 10:43 pm
revolutionne) wrote in thefeywood2020-11-11 10:43 pm
Entry tags:
why don't you figure my heart out?
master post for homoerotic subtext (and a cat)
➤ AU Info Dump
01. Aymeric nearly gets eaten by a dragon, good thing Estinien is there. Then they get piss drunk a month later, the truest form of friendship.
02. Going to a party and subsequently missing most of the party, only to get kicked out and have Feelings. Cameo by the cat.
03. Estinien recovers from his recent dragon battle and is clearly suffering from PTSD, but Ishgard is ill-equipped to deal with it. Aymeric tries, though. Also totally platonic cuddling. (Cat is suspicious.)
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He'll shift his position in whatever way necessary to allow Aymeric to be more comfortable. Up till now, he's held his arms bundled against his own chest, leaning the front of his body against Aymeric's side, but now he shakily extends one hand to rest over his friend's. His fingers are clammy, but it's the kind of purely sentimental gesture that is uncommon to him.
He stares ahead, trying to push away the vivid images of his dreams to focus on the reality he exists in now. He will wake up to this - life, instead of death.
"I fear I may continue to be a disruptive bedfellow, ere this night ends..." he warns without much weight. He's certain that isn't what Aymeric is most concerned about.
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But it's no time for that, even if he cannot help but smile fondly through all of this. Estinien, his dear friend...
Aymeric laughs, a quiet and breathy sound. "I shall find it in my heart to forgive you."
Truly, Aymeric feels too grateful in this moment to hold anything against Estinien even if he could.
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Eventually, he does fall back into sleep, and for a time, it's even peaceful. There are dreams, but they pass without inflicting the anxiety that the nightmares have, and he remains comfortably at Aymeric's side, his head tucked against his shoulder.
The stress of sleep flares up eventually, causing Estinien to tense and cling, but that, too, passes. Flickering in and out of consciousness, he will eventually begin to relax again, reminded of the presence of his companion.
Bit by bit, they make it through the night together.
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Yes, it is exciting.
Yet the lull of Estinien's breathing beside him, the gentle warmth of Ser Croquembouche, and the welcome darkness of the inside of his eyelids are enough to allow him to drift off into sleep. He does wake a few times through the early morning when he feels Estinien tense and take hold, but they are fleeting and Aymeric finds that he does not even need to open his eyes. Eventually, he stops waking all together...
At least until it is close to the bell he normally rises. The curtains are not drawn, left hanging loosely to block the light during the day while Estinien recuperates, although some of the sun is able to filter through the small breaks in between. Aymeric is normally an early riser out of habit more than want and he lets out a long sigh as the weight of the day ahead starts to settle on him.
As does the weight of something warm behind him. And on him, it seems.
Aymeric opens his eyes, staring out into the dimly lit guest room. He well remembers the events that led him to be there, so that is not a source of confusion or concern. But the firm warmth at his back is new, and the weight on his side is not coming from his cat. No, he can see Ser Croquembouche on the settee by a comely dresser, licking his paw cutely. When he glances down, he sees quite clearly that it is, in fact, Estinien's arm. And then by following logic, that is definitely Estinien himself right behind him. Almost curled into him.
The steady rise and fall of Estinien's breathing, chest expanding against his back, the light huff of air against the back of Aymeric's neck and making the hairs their tickle his skin all comes crashing down on him.
Oh.
Oh dear.
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It had been instinctive to keep Aymeric close, his easy presence dissuading the lingering images of his dreams from staying too long. He had been, on some level, aware that he and Aymeric were close... but perhaps not quite how intensely.
Of course, waking up to the light of morning has a way of complicating things. With his fever having broken over the night, he wakes with a bit more clarity than he had earlier. He doesn't jerk away, or gasp, or do anything dramatic - instead, when he wakes this time, it's with a twist of unease in his gut. With the morning here, they can't put off acknowledging it indefinitely.
He stays quiet, at first, not sure if Aymeric is awake. Should he remove himself? Aymeric was fine with this contact earlier, so it couldn't possibly be an offense, could it? Yet, the question that haunts him most isn't whether it's wanted, but what it means going forward.
Will something change? Does he want it to?
Though Estinien doesn't advertise his consciousness, his patterns of breathing do change. His hold becomes a bit less tight.
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But, beyond that, Aymeric had slept rather soundly all things considered. He is and has always been a light sleeper and the unusual arrangement ought to have caused him more distress. But nay, he feels almost comfortable if for his racing heart.
Something...he will review later.
It takes a minute to register, but the resting patterns of the man behind him change and Aymeric starts to believe he may also be awake. So there they lay in complete silence, not a word passing by as Aymeric wonders if it is better to pretend to be asleep and let Estinien do what he will to save them both any potential embarrassment, or to go forth into this new territory of closeness they have wandered into.
He chooses the latter, if only because he is not sure he could feign sleep at this point.
Carefully, Aymeric peers over his shoulder to see if he can catch the other man's gaze--if his eyes are even open.
"Good morning," he says, voice a little more raspy from sleep.
Ser Croquembouche, now notified of his master's wakefulness, immediately jumps down from the settee and trots over to the bed to begin his own morning ritual.
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Of course, when Aymeric eventually speaks and the line is drawn, it's a little harder to be calm. His stomach turns.
He's right there behind Aymeric's shoulders, of course, so when he peers around that nervous eye contact happens immediately. From the look of things, Estinien's eyes have already been open for a while, staring at the back of Aymeric's head and neck.
"Mn." All he manages is a grunt of acknowledgement, the idea of a morning greeting seeming all too casual. He starts to pull away the hand that's been resting over Aymeric's body.
He feels better than he did when Aymeric first game to stay with him, but his head is aching and his mouth is parched. He pulls back from Aymeric slowly, readjusting hands so that they are curled around his own torso, as if in defence. Any attempts at words are currently failing him.
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That he all ready misses the press of Estinien's chest against his bag is yet another thing he will review later. Not now, not when thinking on it will cause heat to rise to his cheeks. Instead, he shifts when he is allowed so sit more properly rather than lay on his side. (When did that happen?)
Aymeric tries to clear some of the sleep from his throat as he runs his hands through his bangs, a little mussed from laying down, but otherwise not all too different from its normal artfully tousled state.
"How are you feeling?"
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Given the fresh perspective after waking, he's even starting to feel a bit self-conscious about it. Normally he doesn't have much patience for considering other's appraisals of his appearance, but give how pathetic he's been the last few days, being a mess is starting to wear on him.
He steadies his breath, glancing away from Aymeric's face.
"Like I've survived the night..." he murmurs, feeling a bit hot in his face and shoulders, for reasons that aren't just the illness.
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Ser Croquembouche has needs, needs that are much more important than these two men figuring out where their relationship stands now and where the lines are between friendship and things unspoken. He yowls--yowls up at Aymeric, whose eyes widen as he looks down at his cat. That white tail swishes back and forth, eyes not pleading, but demanding.
Breakfast. It is past breakfast.
"Well...I believe someone is reminding me of the bell."
Gingerly, Aymeric pushes himself up off the mattress.
"I can have Alfred begin breakfast. Do you think that you will be able to keep something down?"
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He's having one of those moments again, where despite all the barriers he tries to keep up, his reaction to this comes across as shy more than anything else. As ever, he resists stepping away from the wall during the dance, but for a reason besides spite and apathy this time.
Very much the opposite, in fact.
Estinien coils back a bit further, feeling more and more like there's something he needs to hide. That doesn't preclude eating, however. That's a very normal and not strange thing to do with a friend.
"I must at least try," he finally admits.
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Having the cat demand action is really a boon. For the next few minutes he does not have to think of how it felt to wake up next to his friend in ways any sensible person would deem more than friendly. Though Aymeric will continue to argue that it is all for the sake of Estinien's comfort, he would be a fool to admit there wasn't something he too got out of it.
Something he ought to be careful not to indulge in or rely on too often.
Aymeric turns to face Estinien again, noticing the other man has drawn back a bit more. Maybe...he really did push that line? And Estinien is either feeling too sick or too guilty to act on it--
No, no. He cannot let those thoughts get to far. Despite his habits of doubting good faith when it comes to himself, he trusts Estinien implicitly. So he will trust that the request to have Aymeric was welcomed still, until told otherwise.
"We will have something more benign to put your stomach at ease." Aymeric does fancy a little bit of sweetness most of the time, but he is happy to accommodate otherwise.
"I shall attend to Ser Croquembouche and wash up." He picks up the tray as well, including the discarded towel.
"Is there...anything that you need?"
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Coping with the reality of having exposed himself so thoroughly is the true issue. He'd said so much during the night, about himself and his past... more than he would have ever thought. He can't tell if it's a relief or a source of shame. He's always been reluctant to leave himself vulnerable, no matter the circumstances.
At the least, he can already guess what Aymeric would say were he to express this. That he didn't need to do this alone. That there was no shame in his thoughts or his pain. He'd said that a few times now, and maybe Estinien is getting closer to believing it.
So... what does he need?
"Just... water," he says, running his tongue over his own chapped lips. He pushed back his hair with a grimace. "...and mayhap soap."
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Ser Croquembouche yowls again, rubbing himself back and forth in circle-eights between Aymeric's legs. He tuts, shaking his head at his cat, still impossibly fond despite the noisy demands. With that, he gives one final nod to his friend and exits the room.
Fresh water and a variety of soaps and shampoos are delivered by Aymeric rather than Alfred, as well as a fresh set of towels and a warm robe for after his bath. Aymeric, himself, as a private bath that he can use, but Estinien will find the guest bath just across the hall.
He may also find one white cat watching him from every corner for the duration of his stay when Aymeric is otherwise out of the manor.
The two men are not the only ones who have noticed something may have changed.