* HADRIAN

HADRIAN VERNIER. Twenty-Nine years old. Auror Cadet. Any Pronouns. Let it be known: I did not fall from grace. I leapt to freedom. POINTS: 200

[hadrixn]

tavihargrave​:

He can see the shift in Hadrian’s posture, just barely there, the kind of thing he might not have noticed two or three weeks ago, before he was so intimately acquainted with every movement of their body, so attuned to reading the changes in their expressions, searching out signs of comfort, signs of hesitation. He can see them freeze up, just a little, as he says it, and it isn’t a reaction he understands, not entirely, but they look a little bit like a prey animal caught in the gaze of its predator, the moment before it bolts—just for a moment, before he sees them swallow and compose themself as they start to answer, start to disagree with his suggestion. 

He has no idea why, can’t suss it out just from watching them, can only hear the nervous note in their voice that means they’re serious when they say they don’t want to trust the local aurors even though, for all intents and purposes, that’s what the local aurors are there for, in this case, to pass on the information they need to they can hit the ground running. Nathan Tucker, from the notes that had come along with the case file, sounded a little high-strung, a little stressed out about the whole thing, but ultimately happy to help, relieved to have someone else on the case. But… he doesn’t want to push it, if they feel that strongly about it. If they know something he doesn’t. He has to believe they have a good reason for it, whatever that reason might be. 

     “Okay…” he answers, slowly, taking a second to put the words together, his mind already moving onto the next step, which is narrowing down which errand here is going to get them the most useful information in the limited time they probably have, if they can’t just get it all from Tucker having already done the work for them. “I mean, it’s ultimately your call, so that’s fine, if that’s what you think is best.” 

He takes a second, looking back down at the case file, trying to squelch the frustrated feeling in his chest, the spike of fear that, without that, he’s not going to be able to do this in time to get this girl out of the game safely. He looks back at the list of persons of interest, at the notes on the steps Tucker had already taken towards solving this case before passing it upwards, trying to make sense of it all in a way that makes sense for them to approach things. As much information as they could get about the game quickly, and then he’d take a look at the tech and hope there was something obvious, or at least something that wouldn’t take him days to deal with….

     “In that case, we should talk to Milla Phan. See if there was anything in the game that might give us a clue about why Isobella’s stuck in there?”

It feels like a worse suggestion than his first one, but it’s the best one they have left, the most efficient option in terms of the ratio of how long it will take to how much information they’re likely to get. Phan’s the only other known person who has ever been inside of Journey to Excalibur, and he hopes she remembers something that might help them out, might at least give them somewhere to start. 

They feel foolish already, like the vapid and silly person who should never have become an auror in the first place. Little Hadrian Vernier, who thought too much about romance and liked their clothes just so, who only started this in the first place to catch a boy. People thought they would be too emotional for the job, not rational enough to make the right decisions when it had come down to it. And Hadrian had worked so hard to prove everybody wrong, to make sure that they went above and beyond what was expected of them. They did their job and they always did it well, and they always trusted the people who wanted to help them. They had always trusted people far too much. But Hadrian had learned the way that trust could be thrown back in their face, now. They had learned the way it could make things hurt all the more, the way it could cloud their judgement and lead them down the wrong path on a case. If they hadn’t blindly trusted a man in Nashville, things might have gone very differently. Eden wouldn’t have been hurt. They would have found Alina without making fools of themselves.

Hadrian understands that they fear in their chest now is an irrational thing, something that they ought to be fighting against, something that they shouldn’t let get the better of them. But it has. The damage has been done, and Hadrian is too scared to take this local auror at face value, to put all of their faith in to a man they’ve never known. They don’t think that there’s a cage here to be locked in at the end of the story, but they don’t have the bravery to wait and see. 

They just hope that Tavi won’t find out what a fool they are. How stupid and how childish their request had been. Distantly, Hadrian knows its wrong to have disagreed with him on a case like this, where he was the expert and he was clearly worried about saving this girl in time. If they lost her because they were too busy gathering their own information, that would be Hadrian’s fault, and it could ruin everything. It could ruin a life, it could ruin whatever is growing here between them. God, they wanted so badly for Tavi to like them, for Tavi to cherish them in all the ways they’d dreamed. And they can see now that they’ve thrown him off, that he doesn’t understand their decision and he doesn’t feel good about the suggestion he offers next. 

Change your mind, they tell themself. Say you’ll do it, say you’ll trust Nathan with the information he’d gathered himself. There are no cages in this story, but cages don’t always look like cages, and there are a hundred different ways this can go wrong, a hundred different things that Hadrian will be worried about the entire time if they let someone else take the lead on this. 

So they don’t change their mind. They don’t take it back, even when they should. 

“Yes,” They say, quick, grasping on to it. “Yes, that’s a good idea. She seems the most important to me.” And they still feel foolish, they wonder if Tavi can read their shame in their eyes, if he’s grown to know them well enough to see the way they’re faltering now. They cast their eyes around the room, wishing that they could see Eden and take some kind of comfort from someone who would understand why they’re being such a fool. But they don’t see them, so they look back to Tavi instead, already pushing away from their chair as they do. They hope that this will all go well, that they won’t have to disappoint the man in front of them, the man who already means too much in the grand scope of things. They shrug on their coat, and offer Tavi what they hope will be a comforting smile, but feels shakey even in their own mind. 

“We’d better be quick about it, then.” They say, gathering their own file and shrinking it down so that it fits inside the pocket of their coat, gesturing toward the door with a slight incline of their head. 

[hadrixn]

tavihargrave​:

He can’t help it, the way talking to Hadrian makes him feel light and easy, in a way he couldn’t have possibly imagined weeks ago, when he felt like every moment he spent around their shared desk he was walking through a minefield. Hadrian compliments him, and he has to take a second to remind himself that yeah, they’re not just calling him an expert to flatter him, he actually is the expert in this case. Maybe that’s a little terrifying, with how out of his depth he still feels with all of this, but he does have some solid ideas of where they might start, about what they might need to do to help get this girl out of the game before something can go wrong. 

     “Yeah,” he says, turning his focus back to the actual case as Hadrian opens the file and looking through it. As much as he’d like to let them distract him for a little longer, this is more important, so he takes a second to look at his own case file and compartmentalize. Professional. He can do professional, no matter how nice they look sitting across from him, smiling, quickly reading over their file. “So it sounds like the major concern is that we have no way of knowing how long we have—things could go wrong in there for Isobella at any point in time, so while she’s stable for now, we want to try to get her out of there as quickly as we can.”

So as much as he’d love to talk to the other girl who had been inside the game, to ask her a million questions about what it looked like, what it felt like, how it had been before her date had inexplicably gotten stuck inside, it might not be the best use of the time they have. Nor would trawling through the game’s entire code looking for a flaw that he might be able to reprogram to help get her out of there; something like that could take hours at best, several sleepless days at worst, especially because it sounded like there would be a lot more magic than he was used to dealing with in his code, that the issue might not even be in the code but in whatever charms and spells kept the illusion working. 

    “The guy from Evanston who has been working the case says he’s got statements from the other girl who was inside the game, records on Roscoe Sykes’ previous projects, employee records from the Game Zone, all kinds of stuff that might be able to help. Sounds like he’s already done half the work for us, so I figure it’ll save us time if we start out with him, see what he can give us, so we aren’t retracing any unnecessary steps.”

There’s still a warmth in the air around them, something that never seems to fade away when they’re together, something that seems like it might always linger there between them. A powerful kind of chemistry, something that Hadrian can’t shake off, something that they’re happy to let linger there. It makes them feel nice, feel warm and desirable and not nearly as broken as they had felt two weeks ago, or a week ago, or in the moment that they first kissed each other. Starting this mutually benificial thing with Tavi was probably the best thing they had done for themself lately. 

The happy little buzz of their new situation was damaged, slightly, when they did actually start talking about the case. Hadrian understood what Tavi meant when he said that they needed to worry about something happening to the girl who was trapped in the game –– time was important, here, who knew what could happen the longer she was stuck inside, who knew when it might malfunction and how that might affect her. They should be focusing on helping her as fast as they can, making sure that it goes smoothly and they can get her home safe at the end of the day. Hadrian should be willing to do anything to make that happen.

But they can’t help but freeze, just a little bit. The guy from Evanston. Nathan Tucker. Auror Officer. The man with all the answers who was ready to offer them all the help that they needed. It’s foolish, it’s silly, but Hadrian can’t help thinking about Adrian. His charming smile. The help he had offered. The way he had talked to them. The way he had hurt them in the end, the betrayal and the horror of that day they spent in Nashville, everything that had happened to Hadrian and everything they had watched Eden go through. Hadrian isn’t a fool. They know that not everyone out there offering help is really a wolf in disguise, but they feel scared despite what rational thought is telling them. They feel weak and uncertain and they don’t want to risk it, not when they could get hurt again.

Not when Tavi might get hurt.

They swallow a little bit, and try to push the vulnerable edge away again, glancing up at Tavi. “I don’t ––” They start, and they don’t know how to say it without sounding crazy. They don’t know how to ask if they can avoid Tucker without seeming like a fool. They need help, he has valuble information. Hadrian wasn’t sure how to admit that they didn’t trust this, didn’t trust the man waiting for them in Evanston, that they wanted to avoid him like the plague if they could. It wasn’t the right thing to do, it wasn’t the right request to make. But they don’t know how to stop it, either, glancing up at Tavi and knowing that he’s one of the three people they probably trust most in the world right now. “I don’t know if we should trust them. WIth everything. The local aurors.” 

[hadrixn]

athenafq​:

Hadrian seems so delighted to be speaking with Mittens, their expression bright and excited, so Athena, smiling, sits back to listen, taking notes on Mittens’ answers, what has been the same and what is new. A new family in town, the water tasting strange… It would be an easy way, to do something like this, she thinks, to mix a small concentration of some kind of potion into the cat’s water, but they don’t yet have anything to connect the four animals they know of. If they were all pets, maybe, or if one person had access to them all, but one of them is a squirrel, and it seems unlikely anyone is putting out water for wild animals, not to mention the two pets that are speaking are from completely different households… 

She’s getting ready to say as much, to Hadrian, when a small voice calls out from behind them, distracting both her and Mittens.

      “Mittens!” the voice calls, and Athena watches as Mittens’ ears perk up a little at what is clearly a familiar voice, a little telltale twitch of the cat’s face revealing a fondness for the owner of the voice, and Athena turns around and sees a young girl, maybe eight years old, abandoning her mother and racing towards them—towards Mittens, as her bespectacled mother lets out a fond but exasperated sigh and speeds to catch up. “Good morning, Mittens!” she says, barely paying Athena or Hadrian any mind as she drops to sit, criss cross, on the sidewalk, gently scratching the cat’s chin.

     “Good morning, Verity,” Mittens purrs, eyes closing contentedly, and at the same time, the girl’s mother finally catches up, a little out of breath, pushing her glasses back up at her nose and casting a brief, wary glance over Athena and Hadrian.

      “I’m so sorry, is she interrupting something?” the woman asks, her eyes finally settling on Athena, tone apologetic and a little guarded. “We’ll be quick, I just need to run inside and get milk, but she insisted on coming with me. We’re brand new, to town, and I think Mittens here is the only friend she’s made so far.”

So this must be the new girl Mittens had mentioned, and that’s curious, Athena thinks. Another variable, another new factor. She wonders how long it’s been since Verity and her family moved to town, whether Verity had contact with the other animals that have begun to talk… Mittens seems thoroughly preoccupied now, with Verity’s gentle attention, unlikely to want to go back to answering questions, so she lets her attention drift to the woman.

      “It’s not a problem at all,” she says, and holds her hand out for the woman to shake. “I’m Corporal Athena Falconer-Quinn, with the MACUSA Central Squad. We’re actually here trying to determine why Mittens has been able to start speaking.”

     “Oh!” the woman says, looking a little confused. “Has he not… always been able to speak? I’m sorry, this is all so new to us. I just assumed that… magical animals could all talk, I guess.”

Hadrian isn’t sure, but it seems like Athena has something to say before they’re interrupted by the sound of quick footsteps, a child running up to greet the little cat that they’re talking to. Hadrian is enjoying this, strangely. This case, and working with Athena, somehow feeling safe despite the shaky nature of their existence these days. They’ve felt at odds with themself, so scared it hurts, but being here with Athena and working a case that puts them face to face with delightful talking animals makes them feel a little brighter, a little better, a little more excited to see what the day will hold for them.

The little girl that runs up, Verity, seems excited by everything as well. Clearly adoring of Mittens. And its clear that the cat enjoys her company as well. She seems like a bright girl, sweet, so full of energy that she might shake out of her own skin, and she clearly loves animals. She sits on the ground, not too far away from Hadrian, but much closer than they had gotten to the cat. Mittens seems to enjoy the attention, the careful way that Verity scratches under his chin. It reminds him of Marie, the way that she moves into their touch sometimes, content and happy with the attention they have decided to shower on top of her. 

Hadrian glances up and rises back to their feet, when the woman that must be Verity’s mother arrives on the scene. They give her a smile, something warm and less fragile than the one they’ve been able to manage before. They feel soothed by this, by this town and these people and the case that they have to solve while they’re here. Their smile widens even more, when the woman expresses her confusion, and they huff out a breath that could almost be a laugh.

“I’m afraid Mittens here is a special case, along with a few others in this town.” They explain, patiently. This is clearly someone new to magic, and if Hadrian had to guess, Verity was a wix who had just come in to her powers, leaving her family a little lost in the wake of all this new information, all of these new things they had to learn. “Though I believe the world would be a better place if it were true. We believe something must have happened recently that caused them to start speaking. It is our job to figure out what that is.” 

“It wasn’t me, I promise!” The little girl chimes in, bright. “Pinky swear. I didn’t do a thing.” 

“I really wish I could back her up on that, but she does have an interesting track record with animals.” The woman says, slightly wary, and shaking her head. Hadrian smiles at her rather more brightly still, and feels a growing fondness for the family, for this town in general. 

“Don’t worry,” They say, “We don’t believe it was your daughter, or anyone else her age. And no one is in trouble over it regardless. It is just important that these animals don’t slip away from town, and risk exposing magic to those unsuited to know about it.”

“Hmm,” Mittens says, still contentedly letting Verity scratch at him. “I am quite happy here. No adventures planned on my part. If you’d like me to watch Verity while you go inside Maria, I am able. My claws are very sharp and I can protect her.” 

The mother, Maria, smiles a little at that, clearly still baffled by everything going on here. Verity looks up at the woman with wide eyes, already begging. “Please, mommy? Can I stay with Mittens and the aurors?”

[hadrixn]

tavihargrave​:

He watches as they finish their wine, as they drink from the bottle. As they set it down and move towards him. It feels like it happens in slow motion, somehow, like the space it takes them to cross to him is a thousand miles.

And then Hadrian is kissing him again, and it’s just like before, when they’d first come in the door, hot and wanting, pressed close, except it’s better, except something about the waiting, the wanting, the anticipation has heightened every bit of it, has made every spark a forest fire. He lets them kiss him, for a moment, lets them press as close as they want, just trying to take in all of it, the way their lips taste like wine, soft and hungry against his own, the way their bodies feels against his, now, a heat between them that had only been starting when they kissed in the hallway. It feels like picking up where they left off, only better, and even just a moment of it leaves him breathless, the ache to touch them only increasing the closer they get to him.

They slow, and soften, like they’re asking him to take the lead, and he doesn’t need asking twice, now that they’ve broken the seal again; he brings a hand up to their face, cups their jaw with it and lets his thumb tilt their face up towards his so he can part their lips with his and deepen the kiss, lips moving against theirs with an enthusiasm and a hunger to rival their own, his other hand returning to their waist to pull them closer again, bodies pressed together. 

And he’s torn, so torn, between wanting more and wanting to take his time with this. Because the wait had made this kiss so sweet, had amplified every feeling of it, and he thinks that maybe if he took this slow, so slow it felt a little agonizing, that it might just grow and grow and grow until neither of them could handle it anymore, until it became unbearable and all the sweeter for it. He thinks he could make them beg him for more, just taking his time with it all, enjoying every single moment and movement, drawing it all out, drawing them to the edge. And at the same time, the waiting already has made him feel like a mess of nerves, raw and wanting, has made him want so much to slide his hand under their shirt, to kiss every bare inch of their skin all at once, to push until he sated every urge the two of them had between them.

In the end, he settles on a mix of the two, finds himself taking half a step back and guiding them gently with him, so he can lean against the record cabinet, let them slot their legs between his as he slips his hand into their hair, tangling his fingers there, just the slightest pressure, not quite a tug but enough that he can turn their head with his and let his lips find their way to Hadrian’s jaw. His breath, hot against their warm skin, their soft and flawless skin, the salt-sweet taste of it as he lets himself brush his lips against them, and then his tongue, and then a slow trail of open-mouthed kisses there. Their skin feels hot, too, feels like a fire beneath his hands, and it feels, so much, every nerve in his hands that had been aching to touch only moments before alight with it, and now he feels like he is pressing his hands in place to memorize the press of their skin against his, how soft it is, the way the calluses on his fingertips raise goosebumps along their skin. 

They aren’t all that much smaller than him, only an inch or two shorter, and they’re slender and lithe but it isn’t like he’s all that much bigger. And yet, something about kissing them seems to amplify the difference; they feel so small under his hands, like he could cup their whole face between his hands, or span the entirety of their waist between his fingertips. And the thought only makes the longing fiercer, makes him want to see the look of his hands against their bare skin, against every inch of them, makes him want to cover their body with his. 

They’re so put together, their clothes and their hair and everything, even as they’ve been looking at him with those wanting eyes, those flushing cheeks, and it takes a moment longer than he’d like for his hand to find its way to the hem of their shirt, to run his fingers along the spot where it meets their skin, like he’s asking permission to push it aside, to feel the bare skin of their stomach and their chest, to start the process of taking it off. They could move to the bedroom, he thinks, or at least the couch. The couch is closer, easier, but either way the thought of moving again when they fit so perfectly here, their thigh between his legs, his between theirs, their skin under his lips—he can’t stand the idea of having to pull away, again. They’ll have to drag him there, eventually, have to pull him away from this only with the promise that moving will let them be closer, soon, will give him better access to every part of them once they get there.

      “Hadrian,” he breathes out, between long, languid kisses pressed into the skin of their neck. And then, because he likes saying it, likes the way it feels and sounds, wants to do it again: “Hadrian.” Coming out of his mouth it sounds a little bit like a moan, and a little bit like a prayer, like something soft and perfectly unbreakable about it. Third time’s a charm, he thinks, pulling back to kiss them again, quick and needy, and then pulling away so he can say it again, his lips brushing theirs as he does. “Hadrian, god.”

Hadrian almost expects the magic to fade, when they slow down the kiss again. They almost expect Tavi to pull away, an irrational part of their mind afraid that this will be over long before they’re ready for it to be. So many people have let Hadrian down in their life, so many people have walked away before Hadrian was done with them, when they would have rather held on tight and always felt the warmth and the glow of their company. They don’t know what they’d do if Tavi tried to walk away now, if they had to watch Tavi leave them before they were ready to say goodbye. But Tavi doesn’t flounder when Hadrian hesitates, doesn’t fumble in response to the silent question asked in the brief moment of slowness. 

Tavi doesn’t hesitate. He kisses them back instead, he takes the lead and cups their face, kisses them a little deeper. And it’s wonderful, it’s so good that it almost hurts. It makes them feel like the most special thing in the world, because Tavi wants them, really wants them. That much is clear in the passion of the kiss, the way they can’t seem to hold back from each other, the way he kisses them deeper and with a hunger that wasn’t expected. A soft sound, pleased and happy, escapes from Hadrian when Tavi rests a hand on their hip and pulls them a little bit closer. They almost get lost in it, in the intensity of the moment, how right it feels to touch Tavi and feel his hands against their skin in return, how right it feels for their bodies to be pressed together in this moment. 

They have this strange feeling that it’s all the better because they waited. Because they know more about Tavi now, because they they like more of Tavi now. Because they can see themself wanting Tavi in their life for a very long time, which is frankly a terrifying concept. Hadrian can see themself doing this a thousand times, can see themself wanting to follow Tavi home night after night and curl up on that couch, let Tavi play them every song that he has on his shelves. They would listen so carefully, they would soak up every note of music and every word, and it would make them feel bigger inside than they ever had before. Maybe they would bare their soul to Tavi, tell him about every painting and every man they ever loved. Maybe they would just press close and kiss Tavi again, desperate to recapture the magic and the wonder of this moment, the intense feeling of rightness and belonging that washes over them. They try not to linger on that aching want, to get too far ahead of themself. They shouldn’t get their hopes up, they know that, not just because Tavi kisses them with an overwhelming intensity, as if its all he’ll ever want to do from here on out. 

They have this strange feeling that they would follow wherever Tavi led. They feel like they’re on fire with how much they want him, like it might swallow them alive. They would do anything just to keep this feeling, just to get more of him, just to feel his lips against theirs for every moment that they’re allowed it. They have this strange feeling like Tavi could ruin them if he tried, like he could take them apart atom by atom and they would be grateful for it in the end, because it would mean that he had touched every last inch of them. Tavi takes a step backwards and guides Hadrian along with him, but they would have followed blindly even if he was just trying to get away from them. They settle so easily against him, as if they belong right there, encompassed by him in every way that matters. His hands find their way into Hadrian’s hair, and it should spark fear, it should bring up unpleasent memories –– but it doesn’t. All they feel here is safe, perfectly kept in Tavi’s arms, as if nothing bad could touch them here. 

The kiss breaks, but Tavi’s lips don’t leave them. They let out a soft sound, feel themselves shiver just a little bit when Tavi presses a kiss to their jaw, trailing them open mouthed along Hadrian’s skin. They curl fingers into his shirt, holding on, because it’s unfair that they’re this attracted to him, that he’s beginning to take them apart so easily. They let their eyes slide closed for a moment as well, lost in the sensation of it all, in the way that Tavi feels against them. They press a little closer when they feel the ghosting of those perfectly calloused fingers against their stomach, a step away from sliding under the fabric of their shirt and touching them. God, they want him to touch them so badly. They hold back the whine they feel, hold back the almost-need to ask for it with a decidedly desperate tone in their voice. It’s almost impossible to believe the way that they’re caught up in him now, after so long of not being allowed to want him, not being allowed to touch him. The waves of wanting crash over them, and it feels as if they could drown in the weight of it all. 

Tavi’s voice is like a lifeline, but it fans the flames even further, makes Hadrian feel needier and more depserate with every iteration of their name that escapes his lips. They let out a sigh, and they kiss Tavi back with even more intensity than they thought was possible, desperate and decidedly messy. “Tavi,” They breathe, finally, against his lips. An answering prayer, an open-hearted question. It sounds breathless and needy even to their own ears, but they don’t mind that so much. Tavi will just have to get used to it, if he intends to do this more than once, because Hadrian feels like they’re falling apart under his hands. 

He had shown some kind of restraint, when he grazed those fingers over the slip of skin that could be accessed when Hadrian’s shirt rode up just a little bit. Hadrian doesn’t share in the vritue of it. They want more, they want to feel Tavi under their own hands, they want to know how it feels to touch him. So they capture Tavi in another kiss, hot and messy, and they slide their hands under his shirt, sliding over his stomach and his sides as they press closer into the embrace of it, wanting the memorise the feeling for later. And they’re almost frustrated with the position they’re in, as good as it is. They want more, they want to be able to slide their hands around and caress them over Tavi’s back. They want Tavi on top of them, somehow, crowding them in even more than he already has, making them feel even safer and even more perfectly won in his arms. They don’t break away from the kiss, not for long, not for more than a second, long enough to whisper a soft: “Please,” against his lips as they move. They’re glad, then, that they took the time to look around the room so carefully, because they feel half blind with the wanting even as they pull Tavi away from the cabinet and back toward the couch, ready to fall on to it and continue what they’re doing somewhere more comfortable. 

[hadrixn]

edenblue​:

Teasing and joking about things that feel so normal is a nice change from how things have been lately. They are so grateful that they have had Hadrian to cling onto in the pain and healing, to take care of them, and be taken care of by them has been the thing to get them through. But they are even more grateful that they are both stepping into the light again, out of the pain and into the world again, together. They have missed seeing Hadrian smile like this, bright and easy, the sort of smile that fills their chest with warmth and lights up the whole room. And they have missed the easy, fond teasing between them, missed them calling them a brute, and the like with such fondness in their voice. It makes them feel even better about the futures laid before them, that they both have so much happiness and gentleness on the horizon, that it draws nearer with every passing moment. The future is something to look forward to, for the first time in a long, long time, instead of something to fear. 

“You read me too easily. Perhaps I will be a little brutish, if it comes down to it. I think I would very much like that sort of friendship with him,” they grin back at Hadrian. It’s clear that they already knew who they were talking about, even before mentioning Sol by name, and they can see in Hadrian’s own smile just how much else they can see, too. Just as Hadrian spoke of friendship with Tavi, so was their idea of friendship with Sol. But then, they had less boundaries of criteria for any given relationship, Hadrian was proof of that, and they had had countless other friendships that proved it, too. They share their physical affection with those they care for, and those they like spending time with, it has never been something reserved only for romantic relationships. They are not quite sure what they expect to blossom with Sol, but they do know that being around him feels beautiful, and bright, and full of safety and warmth. They know that he is another piece of the soul, perhaps in the same way that Hadrian is another piece of their soul, and that they want to show him all the ways they can care for him. If that includes picking him up and kissing him senseless, well, they would not mind that one bit.

Everything feels so bright, as they talk of these two friendships, makes them certain that these two handsome new spots in their lives are only going to help bring all the softness they’ve seen. “I will allow you to be selfish, moya lyubov. I think you deserve a bit of selfishness with something so special,” they say with a grin. That is even more confirmation for how much they must be feeling for Tavi, to want to keep him to themself for a while. They are happy for Hadrian already, even if they are not sure yet what Tavi is feeling himself, to have found something so strong so soon after all of the pain, after being so convinced someone else may have been their prince charming, only to be so betrayed, trust broken along with so much else. And that is why they hesitate to make the connection out loud, because they do not want to put pressure on this new thing that Hadrian has found, they want it to stay happy and bright, without worry, perhaps until they are both certain that it is more than just a good friendship, with some very good physical affection attached, too. Because Eden knows that they will both get there, after all, they have seen it with the bee and the bird. “We will have a dinner very soon, and he will have to be my friend, whether he realizes it yet or not.”

They get to the dog, to Kosmos, and they are all the more certain that this is the dog for them. He is big, and strong, but seems to have such a gentle aura about him, something comforting and certain in the way that they think they need just now. And he seems like he could protect them, and lead them, as they learn to navigate the world suddenly half in darkness. They lean down with Hadrian, and let Kosmos sniff their hand, lick lightly. They feel a little emotional with it all, as they pet his soft fur, as he nudges lightly for more pets from them and Hadrian, as if to say yes quietly to Hadrian’s question.

“One of the visions I had, in Scotland when I was hit with the Cruciatus, and in Nashville, during that pain, it was of the stars. The stars and planets in night’s sky shining down brightly, bringing comfort and warmth. Kosmos, it means space in Russian. You are my new dog, aren’t you, Kosmos? We have been waiting for each other, and we have finally found it,” they grin, scratching behind his ears. “Do you think Marie will like him, moya lyubov?”

.

If Hadrian did not already like Sol for having saved them in Scotland, during the heat of the battle, they think they would be starting to love him now in this moment. He had seemed very brave, like one of those undeniably magnetic souls. And Hadrian had seen the way that Eden looked at him since then, the almost-longing in their eyes. Hadrian knew Eden well, Hadrian knew that when Eden connected with someone, they really connected with someone. They’re always out there, making friends, making powerful connections and sharing all of their warmth and affection with everyone they deem worthy. It’s a beautiful thing, the way that they love and love so freely. But the way they look at Sol, the way they speak of Sol now, makes it all seem so big and so important, like something has clicked in to place in their mind. Hadrian hopes that Sol doesn’t disappoint them, that Sol is as kind to Eden as they deserve. They don’t think that they could abide anyone coming close and hurting Eden somehow, disappointing them or making their life worse again. But somehow, they don’t think that will happen. Eden said it best themself, when they had curled up together after the mission in Nashville, they both had bright futures coming to them, well deserved and hard earned. 

They like the idea of it. Their happy future. Unfolding in front of the two of them. This is the first day in these weeks where Hadrian has felt like it will really happen. They have tried their very best to take Eden at face value, to believe every promise that Eden has handed to them. The world was dark, the world was a scary place, and it had hurt them so badly not that long ago. For a long time, Hadrian has felt like nothing could be right again, that the only thing keeping them afloat was Eden, was their strong hands and their strong arms and the kisses they pressed against Hadrian’s forehead, the way they let Hadrian care for them and cared for them in return. But ever since Tavi came in to their life, they’ve started to feel brighter again, the combined effort of these two amazing people has helped to tape their broken peices back together. Hadrian knows that someday, even without Tavi, they will be as happy as Eden tells them. They think its closer for Eden, somehow, with these new brilliant things that are coming in to their life and brightening it up like the sun on the horizon. “If he did not want to be your friend, I would have to let him go.” They tease, “We are stuck together now, after all. No getting rid of me, even after my prince arrives to steal me away, whenever that may happen.” 

They are certain, too, that Kosmos will feature heavily in Eden’s path to recovery. They think it will be nice for them to have something so strong and wonderful to make them feel safe, to keep them company when Hadrian cannot be there to warm their bed. It will help them both recover in different ways, get back to the point in their lives where they won’t crumble the moment they’re apart. There’s no rule that says Eden and Hadrian can’t keep holding on tightly, and of course they will. But it is probably healthier for them if they are able to spend more than a night apart from one another. Healthier, but harder than Hadrian can imagine. At least they have the cat and their new little hedgehog friend to fill up their time when they are alone. And now Eden will have this, now Eden will have Kosmos. 

It feels perfect to Hadrian. It feels right to be here, looking at this precious dog, as big and dark and wonderful and soft as it is. Kosmos. The stars. They smile so softly when Eden tells them about their visions, about what they saw in those times of great pain. It is destiny that they came here today, that Eden found this particular dog. The universe wanted this for them, and it makes Hadrian feel soft. Because it means that the universe has nice things in store for them, it means that there is still care and softness in the world, that they are worthy of it. They have suffered enough, they deserve something as beautiful as this to make up for their pain. “I think that Marie will adore him. Oh, oui. Vous respecterez votre reine, n'est-ce pas? Et elle t'aimera. Yes, they will get along very well. You will have a sister, Kosmos, I hope you will be kind to her.” They smile up at Eden, after a moment. “I am glad that you found him, mon amour. I think he is beautiful.” 

[hadrixn]

tavihargrave​:

There’s something different about Hadrian, this morning, something he can’t quite place as he looks at them for a moment. They look put together, but it isn’t like they don’t always look put together. They look a little bright and radiant and golden, but it isn’t like they don’t always look bright, and radiant, and golden. He can’t place it, and then all of a sudden, as they smile at him, he can: they look like they’d looked a few weeks ago. Before Nashville. They day they’d gotten coffee together. An ease, in their shoulders, that had been absent recently, a fullness in their eyes to replace the sad hollowness that had been there when they first got back. They look happy, and they’re laughing with him, teasing him, just moments into the day, and it feels so easy and so right, something warm and wonderful blooming in his chest at it. 

They lower their voice, with the little joke, and he feels his face warm at it, for just a second, grinning back wider. There’s something nice, about that idea, Hadrian dreaming about him, dreaming about everything they’d been doing the few nights they’d already spent together, the hint behind it that he knows means they want to do it again.

     “Oh, is that so? I hope it was worth it. Being late means you got stuck on a case with that weird no-maj guy who doesn’t know what he’s doing unless there’s a computer involved. Sorry, I tried to save you, but Langer insisted.” 

And then there it is, the question he’s known he was going to have to answer, the question that feels impossible to someone like Hadrian, who he doubts has even been to an arcade before—and oh, there’s an idea, if they were amenable, if they wanted to do something fun one night before going back to his, and even if the thought of it feels dangerously like a date, he likes it. 

      “Oh, Hadrian. Virtual reality is only the miracle of modern technology. Image reading your favorite book, right? And then imagine being inside of it, seeing it all in person, the sights, hearing the sounds. Imagine being a part of it, your actions influencing how the story goes because you’re a character in it,” it’s a bit of a fantastical description, but it seems more like something Hadrian will appreciate than it’s like a video game except that you’re in side it. “That is virtual reality. At least… in theory. I don’t know what this guy’s set up is like, and I don’t know anyone else who has actually pulled it off. Which… okay, I guess this guy maybe hasn’t, if someone’s stuck inside of it.” 

They take far too much pleasure in the way that Tavi’s smile widens after their statement. It was a bold move, perhaps, to tease him with that little statement, but teasing Tavi was something the had grown rather attatched to. The man in general was someone that they had grown very attatched to, a dangerous intimacy growing between them. Hadrian feels softer and happier with every glance that they win from Tavi, with every grin that he graces them with. It makes them feel special, it makes them feel golden and bright, it means that they smile a little brighter in return.

Tavi jokes a little bit about Hadrian being stuck with him, but Hadrian’s heart is swelling a little bit at getting to spend even more time with Tavi. Cases have been scary, ever since Nashville, but it seems as if Langer has been gifting them with bright and beautiful opportunities. Talking animals and a chance to make better friends with someone as wonderful and clever as Athena, and now this chance to get to know Tavi even better, to see him firmly in his element, in the world of things that he understands far better than Hadrian does. “Oh, I don’t know. I can think of worse people to be stuck with for a day or two. I do not know if you have spent much time about Camden Savage, but I would much rather spend my time looking at you.” They say, with a little laugh in their voice. They don’t have any real problems with the Vampire on their squad, but he can be so drab and serious when Hadrian deals with him sometimes. Not exactly the lovely distraction that Tavi will prove to be, they are sure. “I may in fact have done myself a favour, by lingering for a little too long in bed.” 

They find themself grinning even brighter as Tavi starts to explain to them –– They’re amazed sometimes by how much he seems to know, this vast wealth of knowledge that makes Hadrian feel a little bit out of their depth. It’s kind of sexy, the way that he talks with such passion about the technology that they’re going to be dealing with together. They lean their head on their hand to watch him as he describes it, and lets out a little sound of amazement at the idea of it. Hadrian has loved books for a long time, and there is something enticing about the idea of being transported in to their worlds, getting to walk among amazing people and see amazing places. To step back in time. To step forward in time. “If he has pulled it off, it sounds absolutely wonderful. Definitely something that I would like to see.” 

They shift back as they consider it, and let out a soft breath, flipping open the case file so that they can familiarise themself further with the problem laid out within its pages. “You said that someone was trapped inside? It sounds more like a horror novel than anything else, if that is the case.” They smile despite it, because they are sure they will be able to help the victim here, that the two of them will do everything that they can, their eyes start to scan over the file, and they continue to talk to Tavi even as they read. “You have read it all already, yes? What do you think we should do, to begin? You say you never know what you’re doing, but I believe you may be the expert on this particular case, and that I will have to learn from you as we go.” 

[hadrixn]

tavihargrave​:

He sets the cup down again, on the coffee table, as he passes it on his way to pick up the record he’d said aside minutes ago, and he needs both of his hands but he almost instantly regrets in anyway, because the moment his hands are empty, the skin of his palms feels alive and on fire, aching with longing to reach out and touch them again. He pulls out a record, considering his choices for a minute, settles on the choice, and then takes his time setting it in place, slow and deliberate, waits there with his hands on either side of the record player as the song begins to play, knowing that the second his hands are free again it will be the same, the yearning to smooth his hand over their skin, their face, their chest, their hip, to mold the shape of his palm against their own, to tangle his fingers in their long, soft hair. To feel their pulse beneath his skin, to raise goosebumps across their skin and brush his fingertips across each one. 

It feels like every moment he isn’t touching them, the pressure builds, anticipation and longing filling him up; there is a distinct heat, in their eyes, as they look at him, so crystal clear and so breathtaking that he feels like he might suffocate if they keep looking at him like that and don’t touch him again, don’t kiss him again. He feels more than a little melodramatic about it, likes the idea of pretending it’s the wine at fault, and the week he’s head. He feels like he deserves to be melodramatic, for a moment, to indulge himself in thinking about the way he feels a little bit like there’s nothing else in the world besides this feeling in his hands, besides the heat coiled up in him waiting, besides them, standing there, looking at him, that look in their eye.

The song starting up is miles different from the first one he’d picked, something new, something he’d have a hard time calling a favorite only because he hasn’t listened to it all that many times yet, but it’s soft, and smooth, and it feels right, with the wanting in his chest, feels like something that will tell them just as much about him as the first one had, maybe too much about the way he’s feeling, the way he’s starting to feel like he can’t help himself from feeling. And maybe that’s the wine, too, or maybe that’s just Hadrian, just the way a part of him has wanted them since the moment they met, wanted to get to know them, every inch of them, every thought in their head, every movement.

     “What, do you think I’m gonna cheat and play you something I don’t love? Life’s too short to listen to bad music, Hadrian.”

There’s no excuse, anymore, nothing in his hands, nowhere to walk to, no reason to look away. He’s trapped, here, caught between his determination to let them take the first step and his desire to pull the wine bottle out of their hands and kiss them again. To kiss them here, on the couch, to pull them into his bedroom and kiss them there, to fill every inch of this lonely, empty apartment with them, with the memory of them, the memory of kissing them, so that even after they leave he can picture then anywhere, can imagine touching them, can imagine that soft little noise they had made, when he kissed them by the door, almost a whimper as they pulled him closer. He wants to hear them do it, again, wants to hear his name on their lips a hundred times. Wants, if this is only going to be once, only going to be one night, to fill himself up with enough of them that it lasts him a lifetime.

Hadrian can’t help but watch Tavi closely as he moves, as he shifts toward the record player and considers what he should be playing. Hadrian likes the sight of him here, in his own domain, in his little kingdom that feels far emptier than it should. Hadrian would like to help him fill it up in any way that they can, but the sound of the music does a very good job of it in the meantime. His hands move exactly like he knows what he’s doing, well practiced and strong. Nice hands, he has nice hands. Hadrian can’t quite stop looking at them, thinking about them on their own skin. Tavi touching them was such a wonderful thing, for the one moment that they had it, before their mind crowded in on itself and they needed a break. 

They don’t regret needing that, but they long for Tavi to touch them again.

He sets the record playing, and they find themself smiling again. It doesn’t hit as hard as the other song did, it doesn’t instantly worm its way into their heart and under their skin, but it still feels powerful enough that it could knock them off their feet if they were in the right mood. Even though it doesn’t hook them in the same way, they feel it in their chest. They know that it will come back to them in the light of day, when they don’t need the help to remember how good this feels, how heavy the air is with everything that they want from Tavi. They feel like a needy thing, they feel the buzz of anticipation in their veins, the way that their fingers ache to let go of the bottle and touch Tavi instead. They want to touch him, to feel the strong expanse of his arms wrap around them, let their hands run over his back, feel the way that he kissed them before, so full of so much passion that they hardly knew what to do with it all, so that they were almost overwhelmed with how powerful and big and important it all felt, how vital and strong that Tavi was. They haven’t touched him in what feels like an eternity, and parts of them might always be longing for it now that the flood gates have opened, now that they know how it feels to be in his arms, even for a moment. 

They hum, slightly, and smile at him. “Perhaps you are right,” They agree, with a soft sigh. Their plastic cup is empty already, and they don’t know how that happened. But they know that they feel good, they know that they feel warm and happy and beautiful somehow, as if Tavi will not let anything hurt them here, as if Tavi will protect them from the monsters inside their own head. Tavi, who wants them. Tavi, who wants them and yet is waiting, is holding back until they can decide exactly when they want him. And they do want him, they want him now. They want him to touch them, they want him to keep wanting them for as long as they can. “Life is short.” They finish, and their cup is empty, so they put it down, and feeling bold they take a swig out of the bottle for good measure. 

They put the bottle down too, and they move forward, and they catch Tavi in another kiss before he can put on another song. This one is still playng, and it sounds so nice, and kissing Tavi is even better. They kiss him with every inch of wanting, every hint of yearning that has filled them since they stopped in the first place. They press close, and they let themself take what they’ve wanted, softening at the end in a half question, asking Tavi to shift forward and kiss them back in the same way, to touch them in the way that they think he’s been aching for. 

[hadrixn]

tavihargrave​:

Their question finally, finally pulls him away from the records, makes him turn to face them again, unable to avoid it any longer. It’s the hardest thing in the world, to turn back and face them, to cross the room to them and pick up his cup as they pour another splash of the wine into it, and not to just kiss them again, not to take their hand and pull them close, not to set the wine down and chase away the taste of it with the taste of their lips, again, their tongue. It’s the hardest thing, and also the easiest. To turn and see the bright look on their face, the way they look so free, all of a sudden, so unburdened, the way they light up as they talk about the painting. 

He leans back, taking a seat on the arm of the couch. Close to them, close enough to share the bottle of wine but not close enough to touch with ease, without intent. It feels dangerous, somehow, the idea of touching them by accident, the idea of his leg brushing against theirs, or his hand, of shoulders pressed together. It feels like it would be like a match against touchpaper, only a brief matter of time before something blinding ignited in the wake of it. He thinks they should mean it, when they do catch fire.

     “Jeune femme en toilette de bal,” he repeats, between sips of wine. Young Girl in a Ball Gown. Maybe he remembers a little more French than he thought, four years in high school and two in undergrad but still almost a decade ago. He’s sure his accent is atrocious, remembers his high school French teacher’s stern warning to the class, never try to speak French in France unless you know the person you’re talking to, your accents will insult people, almost laughs at the thought. But the words feel nice, in his mouth, the vowels soft and round and delicate. Not quite as nice as they’d sounded from Hadrian, but they taste like the wine, or the brief taste he’d gotten of Hadrian’s skin: smooth, and warm, and rich. “I’ll have to try to find a way. I’ve never been to Paris, but I’d like to see it.” Would like to think about being there, at the same time as Hadrian, and they might make it sound like some kind of accident, but he can’t imagine having reason to go to Paris and not wanting them to be there, too. 

A few sips of wine, quiet. The music soft around them, the room warm and still dim, illuminated only by the light in the connected hall, and the adjacent kitchen. He examines them, over his plastic cup of wine, for a moment, watches the way their hands and lips move as they bring the wine to their mouth to take another sip, as they hold the bottle in their other hand. The bare movement in the line of their neck as they swallow, the warm look in their eyes as they look back at him.

And god, does he want them. It feels… a million different ways, but most of all it feels right. It feels like the natural progression of everything that has brought them here, even from the first day. Because he has always thought Hadrian was beautiful, and remarkable, and want-able. So easy to want that it had frightened him, the first time. Frightened him again, very nearly, as they sat across from one another in the office, and again as they sat together at a table in the café. Frightened him by how much he felt, by the feeling of wanting something he couldn’t have. 

Maybe he should still be frightened, maybe he should worry about the chance that this is one single night and that the second they finally come together they might shatter apart from the collision. But he doesn’t think they will, either of them. He thinks maybe the two of them are made of sturdier stuff than that. That the both of them taking what they want might just be something that’s good for them both. And he wants to know what they want, wants to know that they want him, wants to hear them say it, wants to see them take it. Wants to press his forehead against theirs and his hands against their chest and ask them everything they want, a breathless and hurried conversation between kisses to get the both of them on the same page, and then pull them into bed and keep them there for as long as they’re willing to stay, as long as he can keep them happy there. 

The song is drawing to an end again—it’s not a long one, but even still, there is a strange dilation of time as they stand here beside one another, sipping wine, and he thinks maybe he’s been staring at Hadrian for an hour, or maybe just for a second. The beer and the wine just beginning to to settle his limbs into something weighted down, something pleasant and easy.

     “Am I still limited to just one, or can I play you something else?” he asks, grinning at them from behind his cup, pushing himself up off the arm rest again to cross back to the record player, keeping his eyes on them this time, not wanting to look away until he absolutely has to. 

Tavi seems to be keeping his distance, a delicate amount of space between them. And if the rest of the world didn’t feel so soft and warm, Hadrian would worry that Tavi didn’t want them anymore. But they think they understand, instead, that Tavi is trying to respect the small amount of space they had clearly needed when they fumbled in to this apartment, the break that they had needed to clear their head of the voices they didn’t want to hear inside their own head, the things that had been said to them that kept coming to the surface, that made Hadrian feel less than human. But everything that’s happened since Hadrian asked for a glass of wine to drink has done nothing but reverse that feeling, as made them feel like a real person, wanted in real ways. So they’re glad that they did it, and they’re glad that Tavi is sweet enough not to just kiss them again, that they seem to be trying to keep their distance and not push too hard. 

He could push, Hadrian wouldn’t mind. 

But it’s sweet that he doesn’t. Sweet that he takes that seat there, just far enough away to make it slightly harder to reach out and touch each other. Hadrian’s eyes feel brighter, looking at him, with that big spark of wanting in them. So Hadrian just looks at him for a moment, and drinks their wine, and holds the bottle so that they have something to fill their hands with, something they have to deal with if they decide they are finally ready to throw themself at Tavi again. It may be soon, but it shouldn’t happen now. They like the sound of his voice, when it sounds out the french. It isn’t a perfect accent, but it’s his voice and Hadrian has always liked the sound of that. It makes them want to teach him more, as much as they can, so that they can hear it more often. It makes them want to hoard it away so it’s something special, just for them. 

They think about Tavi in Paris, and it makes something soft and aching twist in them. Tavi on those streets, Tavi eating at all of Hadrian’s favourite places and drinking far too much, Tavi walking through every museum that Hadrian ever loved. He should go, he would look nice there, in all of those places. Hadrian would like to see it, would like to be the person to take him by the hand and guide him through the city. Hadrian would like to kiss him as breathlessly as they had before, somewhere twinkling and romantic and pulled right out of their memories. “Ah, it is easy. You will find a way to get there. I am sure someone could get you a portkey.” Hadrian says it warmly, and stops just short of offering to take him there themself. It would be far too silly, to offer such a thing. 

They aren’t the kind of people who go on trips together. They are not in a relationship. Tavi and Hadrian are going to drink this wine, and they are going to kiss again, and Hadrian is sure that they will fall apart under Tavi’s hands at some point during the night. The air is heavy with the fact of that, the way that Hadrian wants Tavi so badly, the way that Tavi seems to want them as well. A distraction. One that Hadrian may never be able to let go of, once Tavi touches them again and reignites that fire in their veins. Even just the way that Tavi looks at them is sparking it off, with that hint of potential in his eyes. It makes Hadrian wonder what’s going to happen to them, what exactly they’re going to do together. They can feel the passion on the horizon, like an oncoming storm, like something that could hit when you least expect it and change the very shape of your landscape. 

The song comes to an end and the two of them have been looking at each other for what feels like forever. Lost in each other, somehow. And maybe they can blame it on the drinking, at this point. The wine going to their head a little too quickly, softening all of the edges of the world until everything is perfect and golden and beautiful. The song comes to its natural end, and Hadrian sighs out another small laugh, nodding their head. 

“I suppose that I could bend the rules, just for you.” They say, watching Tavi’s every movement as he walks back to the record player. They can’t stop smiling, now, and they don’t want to take their eyes off of Tavi for even a moment. Because he is so bright, and so handsome, and Hadrian’s fingers almost ache to touch him. “As long as it is something that you love very dearly.”

[hadrixn]

edenblue​:

It is a beautiful thing to be able to feel someone else’s happiness so fully without any feelings of selfishness or obligation attached. They feel infinitely grateful that the universe gave them Hadrian, allowed them to find this other piece of their soul, and to attach so wholly that they can be certain, without any doubt in their mind, that they will have them in their life for the rest of their time here. Together in everything, no matter what else comes. And they look forward to seeing every little bit of Hadrian’s life. They feel lucky to be able to see this now, too, especially, after so much pain for the past few weeks, to see them feeling something so warm and joyful, and to have someone else to lean on, too. It would not be fair, for them to only have each other. Hadrian’s light is too bright to keep to themself, and they have never been one to hoard beauty. They are glad to share, as long as the others around them can make Hadrian smile the way that Tavi apparently can so easily.

Their heart nearly skips when Hadrian calls Tavi a flighty bird, and they wonder if Hadrian remembers what they had said, the vision they had had while in so much pain. The little bee, Hadrian, with a bird near, strong and comforting, happy. Tavi is the bird, Eden realizes all at once, as soon as Hadrian says the words, but they do not make the connection out loud, not wanting to put any extra pressure on Hadrian and all that they feel. Sometimes it is best to feel the future out for yourself, they are learning, thanks to their own new future laid before them. But it fills them with warmth to think that Hadrian has perhaps found their happiness so quickly, that no matter what it seems now, how fresh and new, the worry about whether or not he might feel as strongly as they do, that he will if he does not already. If they hold onto this, at least for a while, like they had said, Eden knows that it will become just what Hadrian has been looking for a long, long time. It will be difficult not to say anything, but they think it will be worth it, to have the freedom from the future, after a prophecy had spelled so much pain for both of them.

“I promise I will be on my best behavior around him, and I will keep my wonderfulness as lowkey as I can, which is no small feat,” they tease with a laugh, looking at Hadrian with infinite fondness. They like the thought of expanding things, they have too much affection to give, and they want to spread it. “Perhaps we can have dinner, all of us. I can invite my new friend, too. We can celebrate my new singular dog. I know you are right, I will have to wait for the days when I retire to the countryside for a small army of pooches.” They like the idea of that, one day having a nice, roomy but modest home somewhere where they can look up at the night’s sky and see the stars clearly, name every constellation, with several dogs to fill their space, when all the people they love are not filling it themselves.

They bite their lip, holding back a smile, knowing full well that Hadrian likely already knows who they’re speaking of. There is no use for secrets between them, especially when they feel so happy, too, thinking of Sol and all of his warmth. They are so pleased the universe has given both of them something soft for the moment, after so much pain. “You have seen him around the office. The new little one from the Mountain Squad. Sol. You may embarrass me in front of him, because I have already embarrassed myself thoroughly. He is going to come over in the next few days, and we shall see what friendship blooms from there,” they grin, despite themself. Hadrian keeps going about how good things were with Tavi, and the grin only widens for different reasons. “Oh, mind-blowing, that is a high compliment. Good, that is very, very good. I am glad this is not a one time thing, if something is that good, you must hold on. Perhaps eventually we can share him for a night, I would like very much to see this perfect match in the flesh,” they say teasing, giving Hadrian a little playful nudge.

They give the dog before them one last pet, and then look around, look down the row, wondering if perhaps they are not in the place they will find their dog. But then their eye land on one at the end, a big dog with gorgeous dark fur, and amber eyes. Then they see the name written in chalk on the little board of his cage, and another chill hits them. Two of their prophecies at once, in a matter of minutes. “Ah! Hadrian, look at this one. Look at his name! The stars, Kosmos, this is my dog!” they say, tugging Hadrian along the row, towards the cage excitedly.

.

It is strange to Hadrian, how well that they know Eden now. It feels like they have been living in each others pockets for years instead of only months, like they have known each other since the universe first sparked itself into existence. Their souls have always been waiting for each other, their souls were always meant to meet. They were creatures who were made to love each other, who were made to support each other in every way that really mattered. Eden was their family, already, in more ways that Hadrian could even understand. They were someone Hadrian hoped would be there in many years to come. They knew that Eden would be there, actually. They had promised each other as much, and Hadrian was excited to grow old together in their own special way. They know Eden so well, and they can almost tell that they’re holding something back. There is something on their mind, on the tip of their tongue, but they do not let it out. It makes Hadrian curious, but Eden will tell them when the time is right if it is something important. 

So they roll their eyes, and they look back at Eden fondly. And then they smile, wide and easy and bright. It is the kind of smile they are reclaiming even in the face of their own fears, a smile that feels only slightly delcate now, in Eden’s safe company and with the promise of more warmth and joy on the horizon. The darkness will creep back in later, they know that much, but for now they let themself feel safe and warm and perfectly content. Surrounded by Eden’s bright aura, by the look on their face, by the soft little animal noises and whines for attention that surround them. Eden laughed along with their words, the offer of a dinner all together. That might be nice, Hadrian thinks. Tavi and Eden all in one place, so that Hadrian can bask in both of their warmth at once, so that Hadrian can see if Eden will love Tavi as much as they are starting to. They could all be friends, that would be nice. Perhaps it would make Hadrian feel a little less hopeful about the romance, perhaps they would be able to let that fledgling thing go. 

“Oh,” They say, with a wide grin and an arched eyebrow. “Oh, yes. The little one. Sol.” They had known already, they had been able to pin point that connection from the first time that it happened. Eden was easy to read, and Sol was not that far behind them in that regard. Open books. Bright eyed and wonderous about each other, as far as Hadrian could tell. It seemed that they would be a lot more than friends. “I am sure he was charmed by you, even if you did act like a fool.” They say, far too fond for their own good. “And if all else fails, he does seem like the type who would respond well to your more brutish behaviour. Picking him up and kissing him senseless may go a long way toward winning that friendship.” 

They shake their head, and flush again with warmth when the conversation circles back toward Tavi, the two of them batting back and forth about each other’s hopeful feelings and new friendships in the making. “Maybe, maybe. We will see. I do so love to share with you,” They nudge Eden’s shoulder, “But I think I will be selfish for a little while longer. You would only steal him away from me.” It is a joke, and that much is clear. But they do, a little bit, want to be selfish. For now, they want to be something special and singular in Tavi’s eyes, to make sure that they are something that cannot be forgotten or pushed aside. They want to keep him, as scary as that is. And more terrifying still, they want to be kept by him. Hadrian feels frantically posessive of it, the way that it felt when they were alone together, the intimate anticipation that always seemed to creep in now when they were alone. And they feel breathless with it now, the way that they want Tavi far too much for comfort. “But I will still bring him for dinner, even if we do not descend on him like wolves. I think he could use more friends, sans double entendre.”

Their attention is drawn to the dog that Eden points out, and they brighten at the same moment that Eden does. Because the joy and excitement in them is undeniable, because Eden has already decided with a glance that this will be it. This will be their dog. They laugh, as Eden tugs them down to meet the beautiful creature that waits for them, and they feel themself fall a little in love after only a moment. They crouch down to get a better look at him, reaching to pet its head with warm hands. “Bonjour. Comment ça va, Kosmos? Would you like to come home with us today? Oh, oui, yes, I think you would.” 

[hadrixn]

tavihargrave​:

MACUSA Central Squad offices, morning, @hadrixn​

He’s surprised, when he gets to work, that he’s earlier than Hadrian—he’d swung by the café on his way in, which usually set him back a good ten minutes and meant they were already hard at work by the time he got there and sat their drink on their desk in front of them before booting his computer up, but today their desk is empty when he gets there. Then again, he’s probably early, walking in with a little spring in his step, because Langer had caught him on his way out the door the afternoon before to ask him if he knew what virtual reality was and if he’d be able to take on a case involving it and, okay, he doesn’t know what it is, and hopefully it doesn’t involve anyone being seriously hurt because he’s… yeah, pretty fucking excited about it. 

The promised case file is on his desk, he notices, as he sets Hadrian’s drink down on their desk and his own on his, so he pulls it across the desk so he can take a look as he sinks into his desk chair, and somehow, despite his excitement, it’s the name above his on the front of the file that catches his eye first. Hadrian Vernier. 

He finds himself smiling, just seeing the name, has to take a minute to have a sip of coffee and lean over to hit the power button on his computer monitor to suppress it. Of course they’re working a case together, they’re coworkers, it was bound to happen eventually. And of course it’s this one, this virtual reality case he’s so excited about, because he’s pretty sure Langer has been throwing Hadrian and Eden both soft balls since the two of them came back from Nashville with three eyeballs instead of four between them. Eden had gone to a strip club last week, and Hadrian had done something with talking animals, from what he’d heard.

But he’s… excited. To work with them. Excited to spend time with them, even if it’s in a more professional capacity than the surprising amount of time they’ve been spending together lately. That first night, they’d both acted like it would just be a one time distraction, but it hadn’t been just once. Hadrian had come over a few times in the week or so since then, and even then, it’s not like it’s all been sex. They’ve been listening to music, a lot, talking about art. He likes talking to them, likes hearing their opinions about things. He thinks they’re probably actually friends at this point, and it’s been nice—nice to fill the empty absence left in his life with something new, and good, with someone he likes spending time with, someone as interesting and charming as Hadrian. 

And now, after almost a month and half of working here, working cases about haunted emails and haunted cell phones, because apparently wix didn’t give a shit about technology unless they could haunt it, he’s working a case at a wixen virtual reality arcade, and he’s working it with them.

It feels a little too good to be true. He feels like he’s on cloud goddamn nine. He takes another sip of his coffee, maybe too enthusiastic, burns his tongue just a little and has to stop himself from spitting it out, and he’s still half tripping over himself to set the coffee down when he spots Hadrian making their way through the door.

      “Officer Vernier,” he greets them, voice happy and a little teasing. “Did you oversleep or something?” 

There had been a time, just a couple of weeks ago, when Hadrian had felt like nothing would ever feel good again. Their world was centralised around all the terrible things that had happened to them, that was all they could think about and all they could see when they closed their eyes. It’s still lingering now, in the corner of their mind at every moment. It still creeps in at night, it still comes back in nightmares and keeps them awake. But in the last week, they’ve realised that the light is seeping back in through the broken places in their soul, that with the right people around they can and will feel happy once again. 

In the last week, they have started to feel bright again. 

And it’s because of Tavi. 

Sometimes, when the nightmares come and wake them, they pull a blanket tight around themself and they think of him. It is a dangerous thing to do, because they know they are at risk here of getting too attatched. That is what Hadrian always does. They find a man who is bright and brilliant and wonderful, and they get too attatched far too quickly, when they were supposed to be something that was limited to sex. It was supposed to have been one time, when it started. One time offering Tavi a distraction, and they had known even before they had sex that they would want to do it again, that Tavi was not something that they wanted to let go of. They’re a high risk person, in situations like this. 

They might fall in love if they’re not careful. 

But they had lulled themself back to sleep last night with memories of Tavi, the soft songs playing in their head, the way that it had felt when Tavi kissed them. And no bad dreams had come after, so the therapy of it was no doubt effective. They’d even felt slow and languid in the morning when they pulled themself out of bed, dressed so carefully so that they would discreetly draw Tavi’s attention, so that they would look nice and he would have to look at them, and maybe want them. They spent the time they probably didn’t have to spare making sure thay they looked good, hair just so, skin soft and bright. They looked happy. They looked more like Hadrian than they had a week ago, when Tavi had brought them home. 

They make their way into work with ease, and smile when they see Tavi already sitting there at his desk. He’s early. Or they’re late. They had felt too good this morning to really check the time, to rush themself instead of taking the time that they had to make sure they looked good. That was why people thought they were vapid and slow, sometimes, they were sure. 

“Perhaps I did.” They say, with a small laugh, a teasing little look back in Tavi’s direction as they shrug off their coat and hang it over the back of their chair. “I was having a very nice dream. It would have been cruel if I woke up before it was fnished. You featured heavily, Recruit.” They tease, a little quieter at the end, before they actually look down at their desk and see the file waiting for them, smile growing wider when they read the name below theirs. “What on earth is Virtual Reality?” 

[hadrixn]

tavihargrave​:

He’s worried, as he settles back into place on the couch and picks up his wine again, that Hadrian won’t like the song, but if he’s reading the look on their face right, he doesn’t think he really has to worry about that. And of course, who could ever have a reason not to love Ella Fitzgerald, he thinks. Not anyone he’d want to have sex with, that’s for sure. They look surprised, a little by the music, like maybe it’s not quite what they were expecting when they asked, but they also look a little enraptured by it, such a beautiful, warm expression drifting across their face at it plays. A lot like the warm, full feeling in his own chest as he watches them listen to it.

     “Just one,” he replies with a smile, almost a laugh he can’t help but let out, mimicking their own answer when he’d asked the same. He wants to know, wants to know so badly, what Hadrian would pick above all others, what one piece of art meant as much to them as this song did, to him. Wants Hadrian to have to give the question the same kind of thought, wants to watch it bring back some memory across their face so he can see the way they look as they think back, to whatever it is. 

And they don’t disappoint. They sound so soft, as they start to answer, telling him their own little story, a childhood memory. He can’t place the exact painting, in his memory, isn’t sure he’s ever seen a picture of it, but he knows Degas, knows enough French from high school to parse the title into English, knows the paintings of the young white-clad ballerinas standing around a classroom with ribbons on their shoes. Listening to them talk about seeing it, in the museum, imagining them, young and small, dwarfed by the grand paintings, silhouetted against the canvas looking up… he thinks of his own letter, written over a week ago at this point and sitting on their desk for long day after long day, a constant reminder of their absence at the desk across from him. Thinks about the day he’d spent, last week, unable to come home and look Amaiyah in the eye, the way his first instinct had been to go to the museum and get lost there. 

And then Hadrian mentions Morisot. Our mutual friend. He can’t help but smile, half overjoyed, half embarrassed, delighted by the way her name sounds in Hadrian’s accent, so different from the way he’d heard it in his head when he read it on the wall plaque. He hadn’t realized they’d read the letter he wrote; hadn’t noticed it missing from its spot under their paperweight but, then, hadn’t been paying all that much attention to their desk. And he feels suddenly so vulnerable, so exposed; the letter he’d written hadn’t been the short little note he’d meant to write when he sat down. It had been so much more personal that what he set out to write, and there had been a half dozen times over the week they’d been gone that he’d considered picking it back up off of their desk, taking it back and trying again. There’s something so intimate, suddenly, about knowing they’ve read it, something that sparks another flare of nervousness inside of him, not entirely unpleasant. 

He’s a little relieved, as the song ends, as they ask him to play it again, relieved for the excuse to get up again, swallow the last of the wine in his cup and turn his back to them. He feels too seen all of a sudden, feels like his chest has been pulled wide open and his whole heart set on display between them, feels like the intimacy of it all has caught up with him in a way it wouldn’t have if Hadrian had just pulled him into bed and undressed him without a word. He’s not embarrassed, not ashamed. It isn’t a bad feeling, but it’s an overwhelming one all of a sudden. It doesn’t feel aligned with what this is supposed to be, a distraction for the both of them, something quick and heated and wanting, an excuse not to be alone in his empty apartment, to have another body in his bed, an easy way to comfort the both of them from everything that’s happened to their lives. It feels like too much, very suddenly, for the fact that he’s four or five days off a break up; his chest feels tight, suddenly, his heart picking up speed, and so he’s grateful for the chance to turn his back to them, go about the familiar routine of starting the record over again, hearing the first few notes.

He doesn’t sit back down immediately this time. It feels too close, to have his legs pressed against theirs again, to have them looking at his face with those gentle, searching eyes, worried that they won’t find what they’re looking for as they see him, so open and honest and exposed. He stays standing instead, running a hand absently over the collection of other records, letting his mind drift back to other songs he could play, for them, if the wanted, pulls another one out and sets it on the top of the cabinet.

     “Degas,” he repeats. “Suckers for the Impressionists, aren’t we? I wonder what that says about us.” There are a dozen questions he wants to ask, about it, about them, wants to ask about their mother, who they speak of so quietly and fondly, wants to ask about what else they had seen. But it all feels raw, feels like too much to ask, too much to say, too much to bare out in the open. 

     “Maybe I’ll get to see it some day, when I go see the rest of the Morisots.”

Hadrian wonders if Tavi can feel it too. The soft weight in the air between them, the gentle feeling of intimacy settling over them like a blanket. This is a feeling that they tend to love, but not one that they had expected to feel so heavy and so special. Because Tavi is getting up to put the song on again, for them, because Tavi had looked at them so softly when they mentioned the letter. It makes Hadrian feel shivery, soft and known in a way that so few people acomplish with them. It might be good that Tavi gets up and steps away to deal with the music, because Hadrian doesn’t know what they would have done if they had been sitting there together, if they had lingered in this moment and been close enough to touch. They would be kissing him again, they would be begging him for more. 

Hadrian does want more.

But part of them also wants to linger here. They want to listen to this song again, they want to bask in the warmth, the feeling of being known, the fact that Tavi had asked them questions and genuinely seemed to want to know the answers, to know them better. They had been becoming friends, Hadrian knows, but now it feels as if it’s genuinely important. More important than they can define, more special than anybody could have seen on the outside, even them. Hadrian and Tavi, they seem so different sometimes. But they’re the same in ways Hadrian never could have imagined, and Tavi inspires such big feelings in their chest, a warmth that crowds away all the fear for these few precious moments. Hadrian wants to stay there in that moment, wants to feel so glorious and human and somehow cherished. 

Tavi seems to take his time setting the record back to the start, but Hadrian smiles to themself when they hear the first strands of the music begin again, filling the air with that same glorious feeling as before. It feels just as special the second time around, it feels just like magic in the air, the way it can spark up under your skin when you need it the most. It feels like standing and looking up at a Degas with their hand clasped firmly in their mothers. It feels like destiny. They turn to look at Tavi, to share in the wonder again, but all they can see is his back as he looks at the records. That’s a good view too, that’s something that Hadrian enjoys looking at. The strong expanse of it, someone that Hadrian wants to touch so badly that it almost knocks the breath out of them, that it makes them want to beg for it with every word they know, pull out all of their prettiest words and lay them down at Tavi’s feet. 

But there’s time for that later, when they’ve played this song as many times as they can, when they’re ready to... not let go of the magic, just change it back into the passionate mess of a spark that it had been when they fumbled their way into Tavi’s apartment. 

So they let out a soft laugh, at his question, and turn away again to let him do whatever it is that he’s doing. “I think that it means we have perfect taste. The same taste.” And they soften slightly again, imagining Tavi in that place, in that perfect place that they love so much, looking up at all the art that they love. “Maybe I could show you around. If we were ever there at the same time.” They say, and that feels far too gentle.

So they get up with another breathless laugh, swallowing down the last of the wine in their cup and moving back to where they had left the bottle in the kitchen, grabbing it to carry it back into the living room with them, not sitting just yet, because they want to be able to look at Tavi’s face. They want to see his eyes. They want to get lost in them just for a moment, while they hold the bottle out in offering. “Would you like more? I would like more, while we listen.” 

They pour another little bit into Tavi’s little plastic cup, where he left it, and smile up at him with happy and earnest eyes. The song is still playing, and Hadrian almost wishes that they could dance to it, but that would definitely be far too intimate. They take a sip of their new glass instead, and consider it. “You definitely should, you know? Visit our friend someday. There’s one that I love; Jeune femme en toilette de bal. Um, Young Girl In A Ball Gown. She is beautiful, and she sits on this beautiful pale blue couch. And it is like you said, in the one you described. Her earring is a bright spot that catches the eye.” 

[tavihargrave]

all your human nature      a playlist for tavi and hadrian ( link )     @hadrixn

love that we vibe together / love that we so off-center / maybe we’ll fuck up sometimes / but who the fuck cares / I want your faults your errors / fuck all those insta scammers / you show me textures I would never have seen / you’ve gone and made me believe / damn this is no dream / naked and fallin’ in love

[hadrixn]

edenblue​:

Hadrian’s joy is infectious, bright and warm, just like their smile. They feel so lucky to be the one Hadrian shares so much with. For honesty to come so easily, to feel so comfortable with someone, it is such a beautiful thing, even more beautiful, too, to see the happiness firsthand.  “I would like to see you try to keep something from me. I can read your heart as if it were an open book. I am sorry, mon amour, but I have probably already embarrassed you to him. I talked about you while I heated up his soup. I cannot stop now,” they shrug, with a dramatic sigh to mirror Hadrian’s. Their voice is full of teasing, even as they go on. “In fact, I had been thinking that it would be very nice to extend an olive branch to him, and it sounds to me as if you have begun doing so yourself. If he is your good friend, he must be my friend, too. You should prepare him for the weight of my friendship.” They words are teasing, yes, but they do mean it. Anyone who can bring a smile like that to Hadrian’s face, after so much pain, is someone who they want to know well. They had already been inclined from their brief interactions to want to know him, make him feel comfortable in such a new space, and that only grows seeing how clear it is that he means much to Hadrian already.

There is something tentative in it. The feeling makes them want to ask, even if they can guess. Hadrian feels everything so strongly, and beautifully, and they think they know that already Hadrian feels something strong for him, but worries that perhaps he does not want something beyond the casual. It is a hard position to be in, one they know intimately well and would not wish on anyone, but this thing is utterly new. There is so much time, and it is just the beginning. They have seen the softness and love in Hadrian’s future. The last time they had jumped to the conclusion of what they had found with someone, they had been so painfully wrong they still feel sick to their stomach thinking of it, their eye almost crying out in pain at the memory of just how wrong they had been. And so they do not want to step too boldly, declare anything that could end up with Hadrian hurt, again. But they have a very good feeling about this, something warm and gentle, like even if this is not the fairytale ending, it could end up a step on the path. They think they would be able to see something, if they wanted, but sometimes it was better to let the future be a surprise.

Their smile softens even as Hadrian goes on, teasing and deflecting. “I am glad, Hadrian, I truly am. Good friends, that is very nice. And it is only the start, da? Who knows what beauty might bloom while you keep him around, for a little while, at the very least,” Eden smiles, before nodding with some certainty. “I agree, this dog cannot handle Marie, we must journey onward.” The next dog is bigger, some sort of mix, a shy thing, closer to what they feel is right, but perhaps not quite it. But something tells them they’re close. Maybe that feeling, too, propels them to want to share, too, even if they had also been weighing back and forth in their mind how much to say. It is all going to come forth in the pet shop, though, it seems. Absently they reach out to pet the dog, a nice soft thing, but not right for them, they think. “Maybe I will have to just take all the dogs home,” they sigh, as if it is a great burden.

They linger at the cage for a moment, though, wanting to give every dog they comes by all the love and attention they deserve, even if they cannot take them all home. There is no hurry, after all, when they feel it, they will know. And that same sentiment is one they feel applies to their own situation, too, the potential distraction they’ve found, that has only served to open their eyes to bigger things. “I am in the process of making a new good friend, too. If we are not careful we may have a whole little group of good friends to have beautiful dinners with, and shower with affection,” they say, with a smile, but they plow on. “Tell me, how was Tavi? Very good? It has been too long since I have been with someone with a beard, let me live vicariously through you.”

.

Hadrian can feel the warmth growng between them, the soft lull of happiness. They are glad that Eden seems to be reacting so well to this, to the fact that Hadrian has found someone to fill their time now, after so many weeks of being joined at the hip together, leaning on one another for every comfort and to to soothe every ache. Hadrian and Eden will never stop leaning on one another, but Hadrian also does not want Eden to feel in any way left behind. They should know by now that wherever Hadrian goes, they will attempt to carry Eden along with them, that they are some kind of packaged deal, a two for one special. Wheover Hadrian does decide to love some day is going to have to learn to be very good friends with Eden as well, in whatever shape they are comfortable with. So they have happy to let Eden tease them, they are happy to let them joke along in whatever way they can come up with, because at the end of the day Hadrian is glad that they can talk about it together, that they have someone to share these very speical things with. 

Hadrian rolls their eyes just a little bit, sparing an utterly fond look for Eden as they go on. Eden’s friendship is a delightful thing, and Tavi would be lucky to have it, especially while he is still trying to settle in to such a new place. Hadrian likes the idea of the two of them together, Tavi getting to feel the soft warmth that radiates from Eden when they decide they are going to be your friend, that you are going to be something kind of important to them. “Hm,” Hadrian says, half mindless. “I will try and warn him of his impending doom, yes. Get him as ready for you as it is possible to be, mon amour. But you must be careful with him, yes? He is a flighty bird, it seems, and I would so hate for him to fly away from us because we have overwhelmed him with how absolutely wonderful we both are.” They reach up and pat Eden’s cheek, a soft little thing, warm and teasing.  

They can half tell that Eden knows there’s more feeling than all of that in their heart. Hadrian is a fool and a romantic when it comes down to it. They are free with their love, free with their body, but they do have a terrible habit of getting too attatched to men who are gong to want little else from them. They could speak to Eden about it now, the way that their heart is already starting to swell with more affection than they know how to do with when it comes to Tavi, feelings that they aren’t sure they’re capable of putting away somewhere safe and out of sight. Of course they could speak to Eden about it, and they likely will in the weeks to come, if things keep carrying on the way that they have been. But right now, all Hadrian wants to focus on is the good things, not the impending heartbreak that may be waiting for them on the horizon. They should speak of happiness, nothing else, on a day like today. Happiness and hope. They shrug a shoulder instead, then, and nod along. “Yes, who knows? Anything could happen.” A soft little voice, and then they find themself laughing. “You cannot do that. You live in far too small an apartment. Not fit for a small army of dogs. You can consider that again when have somewhere with more space, in the far off future.” They say, letting the both of them linger there despite the fact that they will not be taking this one with them. 

They arch an eyebrow, considering Eden’s words for a moment. They think they know who it is that Eden speaks of, the new friend that is waiting for them on the horizon, and they let out a soft laugh. “We can all delight each other with our friendship, it is true. You will have to point yours out to me, when the time is right, so that I can embarrass you in turn. It is only fair to do it that way.” And they lean down, scratching behind the dogs ears for a moment as they listen to Eden, feeling warm and happy and safe here with so many little creatures to shower with attention, at least for a moment. Another laugh bubbles up, and they feel their cheeks growing warm despite themself at the memories that try and push through of that night. “Very good.” They agree, with a soft little voice. “A little bit mind-blowing, actually. I fear that we are perfecly matched.” It had been wonderful, it had been amazing, Hadrian has wanted to do it again and again and again, in a way that blocks out what they coudl want with so many other people that they have at their disposal. “And we will do it all again, so you may live through me for as long as you wish.” 

[hadrixn]

tavihargrave​:

Hadrian looks hesitant, for a moment, and maybe it’s unusual, a conversation like this, at a time like this. Maybe you aren’t supposed to ask the person you’re about to sleep with as a distraction from both of your problems what their favorite color is, but Tavi’s never been the kind to sleep with people he isn’t dating, missed that whole boat somewhere along the way, and he’s fairly certain you aren’t supposed to demand a glass of wine before sleeping with the person you’re about to sleep with as a distraction, either. Besides, he wants to know. Wants to ask. Wants to make them feel like he cares about them besides just the vague promise of sex, because he does.

Gold. It suits them. Their golden hair, and the golden glow about them. Precious and showy. Classy. Pretty. As good a reason to like a color as any other, as fine an answer to a silly, meaningless question as any other. They look a little golden, now, despite the uncertainty, a little of that glow they always seemed to have, when they felt happy, and light, and easy.

    “Oof,” he exhales as they pose their question to him; he grins a bit and gives them a look. “Unfair question. Just one?”

There are a hundred possible answers, across a dozen or so genres and even more time periods, and it isn’t a high stakes question, not really, because there are so many answers and all of them would be right and he doesn’t even think Hadrian knows enough about no-maj music to know if whatever his answer is is right or not, even if there was such a thing as a right answer and a wrong one. But still, it feels like there is a right answer here. It feels like the kind of question where the right answer would do something magical, would let Hadrian see directly into his soul.

He closes his eyes for a second, takes a sip of wine, lets himself think—or, no, not think, feel, focus on the beat of his heart and hear what music comes to his ears. The action brings back a kind of a sense memory, from childhood, and he has loved a hundred thousand songs in his lifetime but this had been the first one that he loved, as he fell asleep to the muted sound of it playing through his bedroom floor as his parents listened, in the kitchen, swaying gently together to the sound.

He can’t tell Hadrian his favorite song. Knowing the name won’t mean anything, especially if Hadrian’s never heard it before. That’s not how music is shared, now how it’s supposed to be done. Hadrian won’t know anything about him, just hearing the name. And so, half reluctantly, he untangles his legs, gets up and makes his way over to the record player across the room, digs through until he finds it, sets it on, lets it start.

     “My parents used to dance to this in the kitchen, when we were kids, after Tania and I went to sleep.” It’s so quiet, so gentle, the soft kind of thing that makes him want to lie back and close his eyes and pretend nothing else exists. It makes him feel like he’s floating, like there’s nothing else around. Like he’s slipping away into pleasant dreams and nothing in the world can hurt him. It sounds like home, in the best way.

As a dozen other things he could have said float into his head, he resist the urge to stop the record and change his mind, to pick something else, something a little more predictable, a little less intensely personal. His hand is halfway to a copy of Tracy Chapman’s “Fast Car” before he stops himself, makes himself walk away from the collection before he can change his mind. He can play it later, maybe, share another five or six if Hadrian wants to hear them. Favorite is such a subjective word, there are so many kinds of favorites, but the fact that he’s nervous about this makes him feel like he’s made the right choice. Maybe too personal, for a night like this. Maybe just personal enough, for Hadrian.

He sinks back onto the couch, letting it play, tangling his legs back up with theirs and taking another sip of wine, watching them as they listen, waiting with a kind of breathless anticipation to see what they’ll think. It suddenly feels very important, to him, that they like this song. He could have picked a hundred other songs, ones he’s sure they’d like, but this one had felt the most real.

    “What’s your favorite piece of art?” he asks, back, after a moment, when he can’t bear waiting for a reaction anymore. He hopes it will be as hard a question, as personal, hopes he’ll get to see the thoughtful look on their face as they contemplate the answers. Hopes they’ll say something he’s never heard of before, so he has an excuse to look it up later. Tomorrow. To see what he thinks, and let them know.

It feels strange how in a moment, Tavi can make them feel more comfortable than they have all week, that Tavi can sooth over the anxiety that was growing in their chest about making the both of them wait. One question, and Hadrain felt like they could do this, they felt like no matter what happened tonight the two of them were going to have fun together, that they were going to be warm and wrapped up in the soft lull of someone else’s company. Getting to know each other with small question, learning the simple things that make a person who they are. Favourite colours, favourite songs. It makes Hadrian feel bright and happy, as if they could glow with it, the way that their mother always seemed to on the best days when Hadrian was a child. 

So Hadrian smiles, returns it back to Tavi when Tavi grins at them. “Just one.” They say, sounding happy even to their own ears, excited to hear what Tavi might have to say, what music might hit that special place in his heart and light him up on the inside with the joy of hearing it. 

Hadrian feels a little bit enraptured, as they settle in and watch Tavi think over the question. It’s accidentally profound, it seems. It’s accidentally a hard question to answer, but Hadrian feels themself melt in to the warm anticipation in the air, for the answer, for whats going to come later when they finally collide back together. Tavi closes his eyes in thought, and it makes Hadrian want to lean in and kiss him, makes Hadrian want to touch him so badly, becuase he looks beatiful like this, considering the question as if he needs to give Hadrian the one right answer, as if it has to mean something, mean everything, really reveal something important to them. The way he sits there in thought, the way he sips his wine. It all feels slow and easy and beautiful, it feels like Hadrian is going to want to do this all the time, like they could so easily get lost in the warm and gentle pull and tug of it. They want to know every single detail of Tavi’s life suddenly, they want to know every fact and every story. They consider the fact that they might beg for it someday, if it isn’t freely offered, because they want to know what’s going on inside Tavi’s head. 

They feel a little startled when Tavi untangles his legs and gets to his feet, he doesn’t even say anything when he first gets up, just moves over to the shelves and shelves of music laid out, and Hadrian feels warm with some kind of excitement at the idea of getting to hear it, whatever Tavi wants to play for them when he pulls out a record and sets it to play. 

It sounds beautiful. From the first spark of sound, it’s like Hadrian feels somethink hook in their chest. Things do that, occasionally. A song, a book, a work of art. It’s like it’s something that was always supposed to be a part of you. And this song feels that way now, it feels like something Hadrian was always meant to love, something that they were always meant to hold close and keep. They think they’ll keep it after this, but for now they focus on listening to it, soaking up every little word and the soft warmth of the music. They feel a little breathless with it, and then a little startled when Tavi asks them another question before the song is even done. 

Hadrian lets out a small laugh, at the sound of it. Their favourite work of art. “That’s unfair.” They say, slowly, as they try and consider the question. “Just one?” And they still feel a little breathless, because they’re talking about something they love with this soft music playing in the background. They don’t quite know what to say about it, what they should pick, what it says about them. But they remember the letter that Tavi had written to them, the description of going back to the same painting over and over and over again. 

“La Classe de danse. It’s by Degas.” They say, their voice a little softer now than it had been even before, if that was at all possible. “I saw it first with my mother, she brought me into the city once to show me all the beautiful things. Everything felt so big and so important, but all that I can really remember is looking up at that painting. So I went back to it over and over again, I used to sit in front of it and just look.” They smile, they take another sip of their wine, they feel themself unwind somehow into something gently vulnerable as they shoot a smile in Tavi’s direction. “It’s in the Musée d'Orsay, with our mutual friend Berthe Morisot.” 

The song comes to an end, and Hadrian feels disappointed, feels a little soft and a little needy with it all, sitting up to look at the record player. “Can we listen to it again?” They ask, gentle. “It was beautiful, I think I love it.” 

[hadrixn]

tavihargrave​:

He’s relieved, that they don’t care about the cups; it makes him feel a little better about the state of his entire shambles of a life. They don’t always need classy, and that’s a relief, because he’s so, so far from classy, so maybe it won’t be so hard for them to settle for him for a night, to enjoy him like they’ll enjoy wine out of a plastic cup. He knows they’re multidimensional—he feels like he’s seen about a hundred of their dimensions already and he’s only starting to scrape the surface of the person at the core of it all, of the bright and colorful light that they were, refracted just so through lenses of so many angles. They’re so far from knowing him, too, so many things they have no idea about, and he hopes they’ll be charitable enough to assume the truth, which is that his apartment isn’t empty and sad because he doesn’t know how to be interesting, but because he’s still figuring out how to start picking up the broken pieces of himself again and figure out who he is going to be now that he is on his own again. 

He lets them lead him back to the couch, lets them pull him down and pull him close, lets them kiss him, though it’s a surprise, still, each time they do it, and it’s hard to kiss them back in earnest when he’s juggling a plastic cup of wine in one hand, not wanting to spill on the couch, or on them, not wanting to do anything to bring that fragile little look back to their face now that they’ve been smiling again, so happy about the wine. The kiss is slow, slower than their kiss in the hall, much less tinged with desperation but full of just as much of some kind of longing, a wanting, hot and bright. They pull away quickly, and he’s half relieved and half in anguish at it, until they take a sip of wine and smile and suddenly he can’t feel anything but glad. 

He sits back, with his wine, takes a sip and focuses on it for a moment instead of on them, setting his brain on the right track. He can tell, that it’ll be easier for them to be the one to initiate things, to initiate anything tonight. Can tell they want that, want it to be their call what they do and when they do it and he wouldn’t mind if all Hadrian wanted to do was sit on this couch and drink an entire bottle of wine and then fall asleep without touching him again, because at least they are here; at least there is someone else in this space, filling it up, chasing away the lonely emptiness that has filled it for so many days in a row, made him dread coming home. 

He hopes they want to do more than that. He’d like to. But he’s also never really been a rebound guy, never been one to sleep with someone one and be friends with them after, isn’t sure how best to do this without breaking anything. So it’s almost a relief to let them take the lead.

     “To distractions,” he echoes, finally, mirroring their smile, and then adds, “To being multidimensional. I promise, I don’t usually live like a broke grad student anymore. I’ll make it up to you, once I have wine glasses again.” 

Hadrian’s leg is still pressed against his, their side close, and they’re so close, so close he wants to reach out and touch them again, trail his fingers across their face and down their neck to the collar of their shirt, touch their hair, catch their hand in his and press a kiss to their palm. Instead, he shifts a little, moving so his back is against the arm of the couch, his feet up on the cushions between them. Letting their legs tangle together but keeping himself far enough away that they won’t be able to fall into anything, that Hadrian will have to choose to kiss them again, so he’ll know for sure that it’s what they want. He takes a generous sip of wine, considering them for a moment, from a distance, after being so close for so long. They look a little disheveled, hair a little mussed, shirt not quite as pressed and straight as usual, their cheeks still flushed just slightly, and he finds he likes knowing that it’s his fault, to see Hadrian Vernier look less than perfect, and all the sexier for it. 

     “So,” he says, because he feels like they should talk while they drink, at least, because he doesn’t know what else to do with himself if they’re not kissing and they’re not talking. He’s been trying too hard to chase away silence, it comes like instinct. “Hadrian Vernier. Tell me something about yourself. Anything. Something really boring and mundane. Like… what’s your favorite color? 

There’s a quiet kind of acceptance in the air that lingers in between the pull of wanting, the low level of lust that washed over them both from the first moment that their lips touched. They wanted each other, that much was clear and obvious. No matter what else happened, perhaps they had both wanted each other for a lot longer than they would like to admit. Hadrian had always thought he was handsome, and if Tavi hadn’t said what he said the first time they spoke to him, if Tavi didn’t have a girlfriend, they probably would have thought about it a long time ago. They would have imagined Tavi pushing them back against doorways, pulling them in to hot and messy kisses. 

And somehow the heat that had blossomed together was made all the better by the fact that Tavi settles in beside them, that he seems okay with waiting just a little while longer for everything they’re clearly heading towards tonight. This is going to go further, they’re going to go further. Hadrian wants to go as far as they can together, wants to feel mindlessly and blissfully good, wants to feel wanted in a way that also feels gentle and good. It’s all something they’re brewing up together now. And they feel bolstered by it all, they feel warm and gentle with even just one sip of the one. They smile, they smile at Tavi and they feel happy, and a soft little laugh bubbles up in their chest. 

“I like the sound of that,” They say, warm. They do. They like the quiet promise of a next time, of the opportunity they can come back here someday and they can do it all again. They don’t want to only get to kiss Tavi for one night, they don’t want to lose this when they eventually walk out of this apartment at the end of the night, in the morning, whenever Tavi tries to get rid of it. “When you have wine glasses, I will treat you to something really nice. To celebrate.” It’s a little wry, a soft joke, but its a promise of their own. It means that they want to be here, that they want to do it all over again, that they want to let Tavi do this as many times as they can convince him to. Because they haven’t gotten far yet, but Hadrian already knows that it’s going to be amazing. They already know that it’s going to be mind-bendingly good, because their kisses had been better than anything Hadran has experienced in a long time. 

Tavi shifts and gets comfortable, feeling so close and yet achingly far away at the same time. But it’s good. It’s all good. It’s them easing back into this, easing back into being the kind of person who can take these leaps of faith, who can trust men to want them without seeing them as something base and awful and terrible. 

Tavi shifts, and their legs tangle together, and that’s nice. It’s good. They look over at Tavi for a moment, take in the glory of him here, sitting there like everything Hadrian has wanted for so damn long now, like everything they’ve needed to get them back on their feet. Despite how hard things are, this is the best they’ve felt all week. Delicate, yes. A little uncertain, yes. But good, but excited, but warm and flushed with anticipation and something a lot like happiness. It’s a balm to their soul. 

Hadrian arches an eyebrow at them, smile slow and warm and somehow uncertain. “Gold.” They say, after only a moments hesitation. “I think it’s pretty. I like pretty things.” And they try not to feel simple, foolish with it. They try not to feel strange as they sit there and admit something so easy, something so inconsequential. They take a larger sip of their wine, daring themself to drink it a little bit faster, considering for a moment. They glance back at the shelves, all of the music, and they smile a little wider. “What is your favourite song?” 

[hadrixn]

tavihargrave​:

Kissing Hadrian, finally alone, is like… like stepping outside into a summer storm and letting himself get drenched. Like letting go of any attempt at protecting himself from the deluge, like reveling in the freedom, the abandonment. He hasn’t kissed anyone like this in a long time, hasn’t kissed anyone but Amaiyah in almost three years, but even that had been different than this. This is something else. This is pure feeling, pure wanting; he’s always been a person who gets so stuck in his head, thinking and overthinking and there’s always been a part of him that does that, no matter how much he wants whoever he is with. But the feeling of Hadrian gripping his shirt and pulling him closer, their own want so clear in the press of their body and the movement of their lips, the sound they make as he slides his hand up their chest to their neck and deepens the kiss—his mind is blank. Or, no, not blank, but full up with one thing, and one thing only, Hadrian, and Hadrian, and Hadrian.

He stops, as they starts talking, forces himself to focus, not on their lips against his, but on the sound of their voice, on the words, on what they’re saying, what they’re asking him. The wine, right, god; he rests his palm against their cheek, hand flat, willing himself not to move it, not to slip it into their hair or down their neck again and to their chest. He wants to slip his hands up under the fabric of their shirt, but he doesn’t. He makes himself listen, because they’re talking, and if they’re talking, then it must be important to them. 

And they sound like they’re asking permission, sound like they think they need it from him, and god, there’s simultaneously something a little heartbreaking about it and also something unfairly sexy, their voice thick and breathless, like they’re having to pull themself back from some kind of edge to even get the words out. He lets out a breathless little laugh of his own, soft, quiet, but it echoes in the empty hallway. He lets himself close his eyes for half a second, in the dark, composing himself, lets his hand slip from their face to their shoulder before finally, finally pulling away.

     “Of course,” he says, grinning, reaching for the bottle, finally slipping off his shoes and his jacket, leaving them by the door and hitting the light switch, dimly illuminating the hall and the sparse room beyond. “How could I forget the wine. Come on in. I’d give you a tour but there isn’t much to see right now.”

It feels like an understatement: the hallway opens out into the main room, whose walls are bare, whose bookshelves hold only a few things here and there, most of the books taken and packed, leaving the few he had behind. There’s a couch, and an arm chair, and an ottoman, a coffee table. A rug. A TV, a small collection of tapes under it. The only thing that looks like it belongs, that doesn’t look half removed, is a shelving unit against one wall, a stereo and a record player, half the shelves filled with CDs and tapes, the other half with his record collection. Beyond that, there’s the bedroom, the bathroom, the now empty extra bedroom Amaiyah had wanted so she could turn it into a studio, the small office space where his computer desk is.

Instead of showing them any of that, he leads them in the direction of the kitchen, digs through a utensil drawer for a wine opener, passes them that and the bottle while he digs in his own cabinet for something to drink out of: one cardinal red mug with the MIT crest on it, two empty glass jars that used to hold pasta sauce and now sometimes doubled as glasses for water that Amaiyah had used to use to rinse her paint brushes in. There are still plates, and bowls, he’d bought a new set of those when they moved in, but the options for cups are limited, so instead he picks up a sleeve of plastic Solo cups, slips two out and grimaces apologetically at Hadrian as he sets them out on the counter between them. 

The busywork of getting inside, of getting together everything he needs to fill Hadrian’s request, was distracting enough for a moment, but now that his hands are empty again he finds himself struggling not to reach out and touch them, not to pull them into another desperate, messy kiss. Not to see what he can do to make them gasp again like they had moments ago. But they wanted this: wine, first. One drink. It’s such a small thing to ask, and they had asked it like their entire world depended on it, and who would he be if he didn’t give them this, when all he wants right now is to give them everything they want? 

     “Very classy, I know,” he jokes. He can’t imagine it’ll live up to their standards, to drink wine out of a plastic cup, but it’s the best he’s got to offer, right now, and as he looks at them, waiting to see what they’ll say, thinks of the desperate way they’d kissed him, the way they’d all but whimpered into his mouth as they pulled him close, he feels a little better about it, feels a little more sure that they aren’t going to scoff at his lack of proper glassware and decide they’ve got better people to spend their time with tonight. 

Hadrian isn’t sure that kissing someone has ever felt like this. So good, so essential and important without any warning. It’s a powerful thing, the way Tavi kisses them, the way that he touches them with those lovely hands of his. It’s so hard to pull away, so hard to ask for what they need, but they manage it. Tavi seems almost dazed with it, it seems as if it takes him a moment to figure out exactly what’s happening, exactly what Hadrian is trying to say to him. Hadrian almost feels guility for asking, but their own headspace is a fragile and delicate thing right now, because the slightest thing feels like it could push them off the cliffs edge. So they need this to feel normal, feel so far removed and so different from what could have happened somewhere else. They feel soft for Tavi somehow, and they want that feeling to linger, they want to nurture it so that they can carry it through until the very end. 

They need this to feel like something gentle. And maybe it’s silly, maybe they’re getting hung up on things that they shouldn’t, especially when they initiated this and invited themself here. But they know that they’re allowed, they know that if they think they need something they’re allowed to have it, allowed to ask for it. If Tavi didn’t want to take the time to drink a glass of wine with them, Tavi probably wasn’t a person that they should be having sex with right now. Whcih is why they’re so relieved when Tavi laughs a little bit, when Tavi agrees to the request. Its good, because Hadrian really wants to have sex with Tavi, really wants Tavi to keep kisisng them and touching them. They want to learn him, every inch, the things that make him feel good and the ways that he can do the same for Hadrian. The very thought of it leaves them a little breathless, but they accept it when he pulls away. Hadrian’s strange hang ups right now are his worst enemy, because Tavi not touching him anymore feels like a disaster. 

Wine, and then they can get back to it. 

They get momentarily distracted by the apartment that is revealed to them when the light comes on and Tavi starts to guide them through it. Nothing exciting, not a lot that screams about who Tavi is. It isn’t perfectly cluttered and designed the way that Hadrian’s own home was, but they kind of liked it anyway. They would have liked any space that Tavi brought them into, they think. They might just like Tavi. Someday they’re going to want to stop and take a look at all that music, listen to some of it, let Tavi show them what he likes to listen to, the music that lets him feel a little more alive than he would without it. Someday, they’re going to want something large and beautiful to hang on one of those blank walls. Something that could capture who Tavi was, something that suited him. They wonder if Tavi would like that, or if it would be strange to have something Hadrian made filling up his space. They’ll bring it up, if they manage to hold on to this powerful feeling of connection for any amount of time after this. Hadrian hopes so. They don’t want to let this go, they don’t want to lose the way that they feel when they’re around Tavi. They want to hold onto it tightly and they want Tavi to do the same, they want him to keep wanting them.

They’re lead into the kitchen and they open the wine, the familiar sensation of going through the motions is already doing a lot to help them feel as human as they need to. Not a feral beast, not something made of baser instincts, not something that uses sex magic because they just can’t resist it. The fire in their veins tonight isn’t the destructive kind, it’s something unique that maybe only Tavi could inspire in them, that maybe only he could give them. And Tavi is lovely, handsome, a little bit adorable –– the way he grimaces when he sets the plastic cups down in front of them. Hadrian will buy him wine glasses later, but right now they don’t give a damn what they use. They could drink out of the bottle and they would be happy. 

Hadrian smiles as they start to pour. It’s still an almost vulnerable smile, they know. Their mind is relaxing, but it still feels twisted and needy at times. “I do not always need classy.” They say, a simple truth. “Despite what rumours may have told you, I am occasionally multidimensional.” It’s easy to tease themself in moments like this, becuase they know that they can be a picky monster ninety percent of the time, that they can demand things to be done just so. But with Tavi they don’t really care, as long as they’re here together it feels like some kind of magic, it feels like the best set up they could possibly have asked for. They set the bottle down after a moment, and let the smile widen as they pick up their own cup. 

“To distractions?” They say, a softer voice, tapping the almost flimsy plastic rip of the cup against Tavi’s own. Then they take his hand, slide their own fingers down his arm until they can tangle fingers together and pull Tavi a little, back out to the couch that they had seen before. A nice place to drink, and they pull Tavi down to sit close beside them, close enough for their legs to be pressed together, so that Hadrian can lean in and kiss him still when the time is right, slowly between sips of wine. 

They do kiss him, unable to resist, a slow and sweet thing before they pull back away again, before they look him in the eye and wonder at how lovely he can be. A sip of the wine helps once again with the war that had been going on in their mind, and they smile softly up at him. 

[hadrixn]

edenblue​:

They let the dog keep licking their hand, but they are thoroughly distracted. They feel a little like their heart might burst, seeing Hadrian so happy, after so much pain, after some nights that felt like neither of them would be able to heal. It might as well be wafting off them, for how clear and bright their energy is, so pure and nice. Hadrian rolls their eyes, looks back at the dog, focusing their attention there, as they tease them, make them keep waiting. It is a nice little dog, but not the one, probably could not have been, with Hadrian here dangling something so good in front of them without saying it outright. They wave their hand at their comment, give them a little playful nudge in the side, desperately trying to get them to speak. And when they do finally go on, mentioning a distraction, they let the wide grin break over their lips.

They think, already, that the word distraction might be an understatement. They know Hadrian like they know themself, can read them like the easiest Russian children’s book, clear and concise. They are positively glowing with the news, and Eden cannot help their smile, the way their heart positively aches with the knowledge that Hadrian is happy, that they have found the beginnings of that beautiful future they had seen for them. Because that is what it is, they know it without even having to try to search for the future just now. And when they go on, when they tell them who it is, a bright, loud laugh bubbles up in their chest. They are somehow not so wholly surprised. They have seen, after all, the two of them passing notes at their desk, the way they both look at each other when they think no one else can see. But it warms them to know that it is him. He seems like a good man, one who is kind, and understanding, and willing to take the extra step to be just that.

“Tavi from work, hm,” they hum, mock thoughtfully, although they cannot stop their grin. “Tavi. From work. Oh! Da, I am familiar.” Hadrian’s smile is wide and bright, and full of pure joy, and they are tempted to remark on it, tempted to ask them if perhaps this could be it, because it is not a look they have seen on their face before, not a feeling they have felt from their very heart before. But there is time. They can look into the future later, if they want, without putting that pressure on Hadrian themself, just let them enjoy it for what it is just now, something happy, and bright, and good. 

“Ah! So you have kissed and made up, quite literally. I am pleased to hear it, moya lyubov. He is quite a handsome distraction,” they smile. The smile slips into something softer, though, some of the teasing gone from their voice. Eden leans forward, presses a fond kiss to their forehead. “He seems like a good man, Hadrian, I am glad that you have found something nice with him. You deserve something nice. He makes you happy; anyone who makes you happy, makes me happy, too. I will have to make him a cake, for making you smile so brightly.”

.

Being with Eden is perhaps the easiest thing in the world. There is no struggle, there is no internal war about what they want when they’re together. Simply just to be with each other is the best thing, to know that they have the time and the attention of someone that they love in such a pure and innocent way. Hadrian has never felt the need to keep secrets from Eden, even ones that they might have carefully hoarded away from years. Something about them and the way that they are when they’re  together inspired Hadrian to let honesty slip out. Maybe it was because they wanted Eden to know everything about them, to know every story and the root of every wound, the places whee doubt had taken seed and bloomed inside of them. All the better for Eden to weed it out in the end, to get their hands in and remind Hadrian that they, in all likelyhood, will get the happy ending they always wished for in their life.

Eden smiles, when they begin to speak, and Hadrian knew that they would. They are creatures who feed off of each other, they share energy back and forth in a way that Hadrian doesn’t understand, in a way in which they may never understand. Eden is a magical thing, and the bond they have is more powerful than Hadrian ever knew was possible. When Hadrian is happy, Eden often isn’t far behind. Eden laughs, a bright thing that bursts out of their chesk, and it makes Hadrian laugh too, a little smaller and a little quieter. They had been trying to be casual, they had been trying to down play how much they cared about Tavi now, how Tavi had snuck in and burrowed under Hadrian’s skin. It had happened so slowly, and then it had hit them out of nowhere. An apology, some coffee, a letter, the beer. And now here they were, and Hadrian couldn’t get him out of their head. And now Hadrian wanted to see him again far too much, wanted to ask to see him every day, wanted to ask Tavi to kiss them again. They just let themself laugh, with a quiet little shake of their head. It’s silly, and maybe its because they had felt so weak before that night, maybe it’s because they still feel fragile and broken most hours of the day, but Tavi had used tape to put them back together for a night.

“If you mock me, perhaps I will not tell you next time.” They sigh, because it is easily a joking thing, because they can’t help but stop to tease. Eden would hate that, if Hadrian started keeping things away from them. Hadrian doesn’t have any intention of ever doing that, and they are fairly sure that Eden knows it. It would be an impossible thing to do, even if they tried. Looking at Eden makes them want to tell the truth, makes them want to share and never stop sharing. Eden has a right to know things about them, and Hadrian wants them to know this. This bright and beautiful feeling in their chest, this slow warmth that builds when they think about it for more than a moment. Eden causes warmth as well, a slightly different kind, when they lean forward with affection and place a kiss on Hadrian’s forehead. That inspires a smile all on its own. 

“Please,” They say, with an over dramatic sigh, “Do not embarrass me in front of him.” There is laughter in their voice. “I want to keep him,” They say, and the mirror of the last time they had said that leaves them shaken, though they try to push forward and past it. “For a little while, at the very least. As you said, he is very handsome.” Very handsome, and very not-interested in dating them, that much seemed to be clear. They were just having fun together, and perhaps that was what Hadrian needed as well, even if other feelings threatened to creep in and burrow down in their chest. “I think we are becoming very good friends. Like me and this petit chiot. But he is not the dog for you, I think. Too much energy, Marie would eat him alive.”