Caroline

Duncan tugged self consciously at his sweater as he walked into the company Christmas Party. He has been working at Targaryen Security Inc. for three months; long enough to have basically figured out his job as a security guard, but certainly not long enough to be able to confidently walk into an office function while wearing a sweater with a massive glittery red-nosed reindeer on it. Ahh well, I promised Raymun, Dunk thought, nothing for it. At least there’s an open bar.

The Christmas party was a first for Targaryen Security. Baelor Targaryen had recently taken over the job of CEO from his father and believed the party would be good for office camaraderie and morale. Maekar, Baelor’s brother and Dunk’s boss, thought it was a stupid waste of time and money. Dunk liked Baelor a lot. He hadn’t had many direct interactions with the CEO, but he had proven to be a good man and excellent leader. Maekar, on the other hand, was a different story. He was competent, certainly, and commanding, but he was far from personable. He was gruff with everyone, but Dunk was fairly certain Maekar had it out for him specifically. Mostly due to an incident that had occurred during Dunk’s first week with Targaryen Security.

Duncan had been tasked with being security for a young socialite’s 13th birthday party. Her father, Mr. Ashford, had spared no expense. It should have been an easy gig, no problem whatsoever.

Unfortunately, Duncan hadn’t realized until he arrived at the party venue that Maekar’s youngest son, Aegon, had stowed away in the company car. At that point it was too late to take him back and Dunk hadn’t even thought to call the office to let them know what had happened; stupid in hindsight, very stupid.

The party had actually gone incredibly well. Mr. Ashford had looked rather dubious when his hired security guard arrived with a 9-year-old in tow, but Aegon, or Egg as he had asked to be called, had charmed both Mr. Ashford and Dunk himself. Egg was far more interested in helping Dunk in his duties as a security guard than in the birthday party itself, and the pair had got on like a house on fire, thoroughly enjoying each other's company. Duncan had completely forgotten about the potential for trouble until they returned to find Targaryen Security in an uproar, and furious Maekar Targaryen who had spent the afternoon searching for his son.

Duncan would have been fired on the spot if it hadn’t been for the intervention of Baelor who pointed out that Egg had made the decision to stow away and was safe and well taken care of thanks to Duncan. An extremely positive review left by Mr. Ashford doubly ensured that Duncan kept his job, but Maekar had never exactly warmed to him since the incident.

Ah well, no use dwelling on that now. Duncan looked around the main room of the office, now festively decorated for the holiday. He spotted Maekar near the center of the room looking annoyed next to his brother who was chatting warmly with several of the more junior employees.

“Dunk! There you are!” Raymun cried happily, hurrying over and throwing his arms around Duncan. Raymun had started working as a guard at Targaryen Security only a week before Dunk himself and the two had become fast friends. Dunk returned the hug and smiled, happy to see his friend, who had remained true to his word and wore a goofy Christmas sweater himself, this one featuring an elf.

Actually quite a few people are wearing Christmas sweaters, now that I look around. Worried for no reason as usual, Dunk.

“Are you hungry? The spread is pretty impressive actually! I mean it better be with the amount the company has been raking in, they ought to spend a bit on us, aye?” Raymun said, smiling.

“Starving! You wanna swing by the bar first?”

“Absolutely!” As the pair strode towards the bar, Lyonel Baratheon, who had clearly already visited it a time or two, reeled past them, slapping Dunk on the back as he went. “Looking good!” He tossed over his shoulder with a wink. Lyonel was the head of Human Resources, rather ironic since he was basically a walking HR violation himself, but Duncan liked him. He had also taken Dunk’s side after the unfortunate stowaway incident.

As he crossed the room, Duncan saw a man he didn’t recognize standing near the snack table chatting with Valarr, the young head of the risk assessment division. Duncan knew he must never have seen him before, because he certainly would have remembered; the stranger was the most beautiful man Dunk had ever seen. Tall, though not quite Dunk’s height, piercing pale blue eyes, the sort of bone structure one usually only saw in Greek statues and, most intriguingly, a horizontal scar that ran from the center of his left cheek and disappeared into the curtain of his shoulder length sandy blond hair. He was dressed in a way that suggested he’d had an emo phase in his youth that he never fully grew out of. His Car Seat Headrest T-shirt, slightly baggy ripped black jeans, and dirty converse stood out in the room full of festive attire and business casual.

“Dunk?” Raymun was looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Huh? Sorry, sorry zoned out there. Uh, do you know who that is over there?” Dunk asked, hoping the reason for his interest wasn’t too obvious.

One look at Raymun’s smirking face told him that his hope was in vain. “Uh no, I haven’t seen him around before. I don’t think he works here. You should go talk to him!” Raymun nudged him playfully.

“Don’t be daft. He wouldn’t be interested in the likes of me.” Duncan said, shaking his head. “And you’re one to talk.”

“You don’t know that, but fine, suit yourself. And for your information I was planning on asking Rowan out tonight.” The pair reached the bar and ordered their drinks: a cider for Raymun and a beer for Dunk. They retreated to the perimeter of the room to watch Lyonel and Humphrey Beesbury drunkenly dancing some sort of demented jig together.

Duncan found his gaze kept wandering back to the mysterious stranger. About the fifth time he glanced back towards him Dunk was startled to find the stranger staring back at him. Dunk looked away quickly, cheeks coloring. Just a coincidence. Relax. He waited a moment, and then looked back. The man was still looking at him, his head cocked slightly to the side, a small smile on his face.

“Dunk, don’t look now but I think your mystery man is coming over here.” Raymun said, laughing at the stricken expression on Duncan’s face. “I know when to make myself scarce. I think it’s a good time to find Rowan.”

“Wait, Raymun!” Dunk turned to his friend, but Raymun was already gone. He took a deep breath and turned back toward the stranger who now stood in front of him.

“Daeron,” the man said, holding out his hand. “I know almost everyone around here, but I haven’t seen you before. Are you new?”

Be cool Dunk, for the love of the Gods be cool. “I’m Duncan, and yeah, I’ve only been working here three months.” He said, shaking Daeron’s offered hand.

“Ah, Duncan! You’re the one who kidnapped Egg,” Daeron said laughing.

Dunk blushed. “Uh.. yes I suppose that was me. I didn’t kidnap him though, it was just a misunderstanding.”

“Oh, I know! Egg is an independent child and when he gets an idea in his head there’s really no stopping him. I found the story hilarious but hardly surprising when Valarr told me.”

“You’re a friend of Valarr’s, then? I saw you two talking earlier” Duncan asked, trying to steer the conversation to a safer topic.

“In a manner of speaking… he’s dating my ex” Daeron explained with a shrug. “We’re on good terms though, he’s better for her than I was. I can admit that now.”

“Oh,” was all Dunk managed, taken by surprise. You’re a fool, Dunk, to think he’d be interested in you. He’s straight. “Can I get you a drink?” Dunk asked casting around for something to say, his eyes settling on Daeron’s empty hands.

“Uh, no thank you! I’m sober actually. Six months.” Daeron said. Fuck. How much worse could this possibly be going? Duncan realized he must have looked stricken, because Daeron quickly followed up, “It’s ok! You had no way of knowing! You’re probably wondering what the hell I’m doing at an office Christmas party for a company I don’t work at. A party with an open bar no less.”

Duncan was extremely thankful for the out. “Yeah, I was kind of wondering that actually,” he said smiling.

“I worked here for 4 years, I left a year ago. But Baelor was still kind enough to shoot me an invite, and it’s nice to see everyone occasionally. Well, almost everyone. I could do without seeing Roland, but what can you do,” he leaned in towards Dunk conspiratorially, raising his hand to shield his mouth from any potential onlookers, “ex-situationship” he whispered, with a shrug.

Dunk nodded in understanding, though he wasn’t totally sure he knew exactly what a situationship was, he knew enough to know one thing: He’s not straight! Praise the gods! “So what do you do now?” Asked Dunk.

“Oh, I’m in school. Veterinary medicine,” Daeron said smiling. The two of them had moved closer to each other as the party grew louder and more raucous around them. “Small animals only though. Not a fan of horses to be honest. I used to ride, but got thrown off one when I was 17, and the great beast stepped on me and broke my leg. Haven’t ridden since, and don’t see a reason to try and cure them of their ailments either. But enough about me, what brought you to Targaryen Security?”

“My adoptive father worked in security his whole life, but for a different company. He always spoke very highly of Baelor Targaryen, though, and when I heard he’d taken over the company, I thought why not apply? I think it’s what the old man would have wanted. He passed on four months ago.” Dunk said a little sadly.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Daeron placed a gentle hand on Duncan’s arm, a look of genuine sympathy on his face. “I lost my mother seven years ago, it’s really hard.”

An extremely intoxicated Humphrey Beesbury chose that moment to stumble directly into Daeron, sloshing red wine onto him and the floor. Duncan saw Daeron visibly tense, his jaw tightening. Fuck, getting sloshed with wine probably isn’t super helpful for sobriety. Beesbury uttered a slurred “shorry,” and stumbled away.

Daeron turned back to Dunk with a forced smile, tension still visible in the way he held his shoulders, “I need some air. And a cigarette. Care to join me?”

Duncan followed Daeron outside where he pulled a pack of cigarettes and lighter from his back pocket. “I managed to give up alcohol, but I have to hold on to some vices. Want one?”

“Please.” Duncan rarely smoked sober, but this seemed like a special occasion. Daeron took one cigarette from the pack and placed it between his lips. He looked Duncan in the eye as he lit it and took a slow drag. He took the cigarette from between his lips and handed it to Duncan. Then lit one for himself.

Duncan desperately tried to ignore the stirring this had caused in his groin, not to mention the fact that it was possibly the most erotic thing Dunk had ever witnessed. He also tried hard not to think about the fact that putting the cigarette to his lips was essentially an indirect kiss. As he placed the cigarette between his lips he imagined he could taste Daeron on it. He took a drag and racked his brain for something to say. Daeron’s eyes were still on him, watching.

“So, uh, how did you get your scar? Was that from the horse as well?” Duncan managed, finally.

Daeron let out a humorless laugh. “No, not the horse. That is a story for another time, I think. It’s the reason I’m sober. Bit of a mood killer actually.”

“Mood?” Duncan asked before he could stop himself, hope rising.

“You know, the holiday spirit! Festive cheer and goodwill to men and all that. This is meant to be a Christmas party after all.” Daeron said, rolling his eyes, though not unkindly.

“Oh, right, yeah” Gods is there any measure of a fool I fail to meet? I’m reading into this… he probably isn’t even in-

Duncan’s thoughts were interrupted by Daeron suddenly looking at him with a new heat in his eyes. “Do you want to get out of here?” He asked, coyly.

Duncan answered before his brain could get in the way, “Yes!”

“Excellent! I’ll drive.”

As Dunk followed Daeron to his car he pulled out his phone and tapped a quick text to Raymun: “Something came up. Have to head out! Good luck with Rowan!”

The response came almost immediately: “Have fun! ;)”

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Daeron parked the car in the driveway of an extremely large house in a very nice neighborhood. He must have roommates… or else he’s insanely rich… Dunk tried to push these thoughts from his head as he followed Daeron into the house, his heart racing. Daeron led him to an upstairs bedroom, and closed the door behind them. Duncan caught only a brief glimpse of a charmingly messy bedroom before Daeron grabbed him by the front of his sparkly reindeer sweater and pulled him into a searing kiss.

Duncan wrapped one arm around Daeron’s waist, and threaded his left hand into his sandy hair, holding Daeron to him as he deepened the kiss. Daeron moaned into his mouth, then pulled back breathing hard. He pulled Duncan’s sweater up over his head leaving him shirtless, then ran his hands over Dunk’s chest and stomach. He pulled Duncan back towards him by the waistband of his jeans. Kissing and nipping along Duncan’s jawline and down his neck. Dunk could feel his hard cock straining against his jeans. Daeron placed a hand over it and squeezed. A broken moan escaped Duncan’s mouth and he grabbed Daeron by the jaw, pressing their mouths back together.

Without breaking the kiss, Daeron undid the fly of Duncan’s jeans and began pushing them down. Dunk stepped out of them leaving him in his boxer briefs, which left very little to the imagination. Daeron stepped back and surveyed him for a moment, a smile on his face as he hummed in approval. Duncan couldn’t help blushing. Daeron took him by the shoulders and shoved him into a sitting position on the bed, then pulled off his own T-shirt, and dropped to his knees between Duncan’s spread legs.

Daeron looked up at Duncan through his lashes. “You’re the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen,” Dunk said breathlessly. He took Daeron’s chin in his hand and ran his thumb over Daeron’s kiss swollen bottom lip. He pushed lightly and Daeron accepted Duncan’s thumb into his mouth, sucking wantonly. Duncan watched him, mouth slightly open in wonder. Daeron released his thumb and looked up at him with his head slightly cocked and a look on his face that said he knew exactly what effect he was having. I may be in real trouble here… I can’t already be falling for him… Then Daeron was planting a line of wet open mouthed kisses up Duncan’s thigh and sliding his fingers into the waistband of Duncan’s underwear and tugging downward, banishing all coherent thought from Duncan’s head for the remainder of the evening.

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Duncan awoke early the next morning, weak sunlight filtering through the closed blinds. Daeron was still asleep next to him, sprawled on his back, hair splayed on the pillow, lips parted, beautiful. I wonder if he has class today… I should make coffee for him… for us l mean. Gods I’m already acting like he’s my boyfriend.

Even with that rather worrisome thought in mind Duncan slid out of the bed as gently and quietly as he could. He looked around on the floor until he found his underwear, a pair of Daeron’s sweat pants, and the T-Shirt Daeron had been wearing the night before. Dunk pulled them on, the pants were a bit too short but still wearable, and slipped out of the room.

He padded barefoot down the stairs to where he assumed the kitchen would be. He found it immaculately clean, with high end appliances on the counters. How does Daeron afford this? He must have roommates. There was a fancy espresso machine that Dunk had no idea how to use and a traditional coffee maker that Dunk considered a much safer bet.

As the coffee brewed, Dunk looked around the cabinets for mugs. He found them and grabbed the first two he saw: a Targaryen Security mug and a #1 Dad mug. Huh, maybe it’s meant to be ironic? Or does he have a kid? He took the mugs back over to the coffee pot and went to pour the coffee.

“That’s my mug.” Duncan almost dropped both the coffee pot and the mug. I know that voice… fuck, it can’t be… He turned around and found himself face to face with Maekar Targaryen, wearing a black T-shirt, plaid pajama pants, slippers, and a scowl.

“S-sorry, sir,” Dunk stammered out, handing him the coffee filled mug.

Maekar took it and rolled his eyes, “Duncan, you are standing in my kitchen at 7AM, wearing my son’s clothes. We can dispense with the ‘sirs’ for now,” he said bluntly.

“Yes, S-, uh, right,” Dunk managed. Maekar let out a disgusted snort, shook his head , and walked back the way he came. Dunk stared after him for several moments, trying to get his racing heart under control. With forced calm he grabbed another mug from the cabinet, a plain red one this time, and filled it with coffee. He took a deep breath. Fuck…Fuck…FUCK!!

Duncan rushed back to Daeron’s bedroom as quickly as he could without spilling the coffee. He entered the room and closed the door behind him, finding Daeron awake, propped up on his elbows.

“You’re a Targaryen!?” Duncan whisper-yelled at him, “Why didn’t you tell me Maekar is your father!?”

Daeron yawned and stretched languidly. “Good morning to you too. Is that coffee for me?” Daeron asked, sitting up and leaning forward to gently take the mug from Duncan’s hand. Dunk just stared at him, incredulous. “To address your questions: firstly, yes, I am a Targaryen. Secondly, you never asked. I guess that’s what you get for sleeping with a man when you don’t even know his last name hmmm?”

Dunk sat down hard on the edge of the bed. “Fair enough…” he sighed.

Daeron laughed and threw an arm around his waist pulling him down to plant a kiss on his head. “You look good in my clothes though.” Dunk smiled, beginning to relax again. It’s not like Maekar can fire me for dating his son right? No. No, not dating, just hooking up with his son, Dunk, stop getting ahead of yourself.

Daeron started suddenly. “What time is it?”

Duncan checked his watch. “It’s 7:25. Why?”

“Shit! I have a class at 8:00!” Daeron groaned, flinging himself out of the bed. Dunk couldn’t help admiring his naked form as he scrounged around for clothes.

“Need me to leave?” Duncan asked, hoping the answer would be no, but knowing that was unlikely.

“I’m sorry, Duncan. Can you see yourself out? I really can’t afford to be late again,” Daeron said, grimacing as he tugged on a pair of jeans.

“Yeah, of course, no trouble! Don’t want you to be late.” Dunk rose from the bed and stripped off Daeron’s clothes, pulling on his own jeans and sweater from the night before. “Uh… I guess I’ll see you around then…” He turned to leave.

“Duncan, wait!” Daeron opened a drawer in his bedside table snatching out a pen and scrap of paper. “I need your number! How else will I be seeing you around?”

“Oh right, of course!” Dunk said, relieved. He jotted down his number and Daeron took the paper and tucked it into his jeans pocket, then grabbed Duncan by the hand and pulled him close, kissing him hard on the mouth.

“I’ll call you.” He said, releasing Dunk, and turning back to readying himself for class.