#language fic

The Five Languages of Viktor Nikiforov by  athoroughlybakedpotato (acommontater)

Summary:

Language is not only how you understand other people, but how you learn to understand yourself.

Opinions:

col3bri: A cool way to tell Victor’s story.  

Simon knows that they’re talking about him. He just can’t understand what they’re saying, so he decides to confront Baz about it.

As always a big thanks to @eroticgropefest for being an amazing beta <3

For the @carry-on-bday-2017​

I’m waiting for our last class of the day to start when I hear him again speaking the language. After all these years I still don’t know what language it is, I just know that I like listening to it.

Every now and then, Baz glances at me with his eyebrow raised. I think he must be plotting, and he’s only speaking like that so that I don't understand him. So sometimes I don’t look away; I just stare right back at him to let him know that I’m onto him. We silently battle like that, staring at each other. Like now. And I’m determined to not look away first this time, so I keep staring into his deep grey eyes as he keeps speaking to Dev in a low tone. I really wish I could understand what they’re talking about.

Our eye contact is broken when Miss Possibelf enters the room. Baz immediately looks away and turns his back to me to pay attention to class. What a tosser.

Later, as I’m walking behind them on the way to the Mummers house I keep my distance, but when I enter the building I start to climb the stairs two at a time to get closer to them. I want to see if I can hear what they are saying. I notice that they’re talking again in that bloody language--this is really annoying. How am I supposed to figure out what they’re plotting if they’re always speaking like that? To make things worse, when Dev is about to close his bedroom door he sees me climbing the stairs right behind them so he half shouts to Baz, who is still ahead of me climbing the last flight of stairs to our bedroom, “han er besatt av deg.”

“Hva?” Baz shouts from the top of stairs.

“Jeg er ikke dum, Simon stirrer alltid på deg!”

It’s really frustrating not knowing what they are talking about; I had already passed Dev when I suddenly stop and glance back at him, only to see him already closing his door. He said my name. Now I really want to know what they were talking about so I rush to climb the last steps and storm into our bedroom.

“What did Dev just say?” I ask, crossing the room to stand in front of Baz. When I’m just one step away from him I add, ”what language is that?”

Baz arches his eyebrow at me and finally answers in a tone that indicates this should be obvious, and I was supposed to know the answer. “It's Norwegian.”

“You don't have to be such a prick about it. How was I supposed to know that?”

“Beklager,” he says, avoiding my eyes.

Now he’s really just fucking with me, saying those things to me, knowing that I can’t understand him. I bet he just called me an idiot. “You didn’t answer my other question,” I insist, already starting to feel annoyed, and I try to calm down my magic.

He shrugs and starts to turn into the direction of his bed; I grab his arm to stop him. “What did he fucking said about me?”

Baz looks down at my hand still around his arm and then he looks at me again with a calculated expression and says, “liker du meg?”

“No, I’m not taking my hand off until you answer me!” I growl. I have no idea about what he just said but I can feel my magic building up. Baz is just fucking with me, and even though I like the way the words coming out of his mouth sound it’s really pissing me off.

“Jeg vil fortelle deg alt…”

I move closer to him. “I can’t understand shit, Baz.”

“Sannheten er...” he starts and he looks at me like he just decided to plot something right in front of me. “Jeg elsker deg,” he says angrily at me.

“What does that mean!” I half shout in his face. As I say it I feel my magic pouring out of me and into my words.

“Jeg elsker deg, idiot,” he says slightly shaking his head and not meeting my eyes. He pulls his arm away from my grip and turns his back to me. But suddenly in my head I know what he just said. I can still listen to him in Norwegian but in my head it’s like I have an automatic dictionary and I can understand what it means. Baz just told me he’s in love with me. Fuck.

He must think I’m still clueless because he continues speaking and in my head I can now translate everything perfectly.

“I’m hopelessly in love with you,” Baz says, and holy shit is this really real? He continues as he puts his pillows against the bedframe with his back to mine, “I know you hate me, but I’ve always wondered what you would do... if I kissed you. Would you go off on me or would you just punch me? Probably both,” he says as he angrily throws one pillow against the other.

I stare at his back. Does Baz really think that? I know I’ve said it, but it’s not true. Granted, he’s a complete git to me, but hate him? “Baz… I don’t hate you,” I blurt out without thinking. I just don’t want him to think that. When he lets the other pillow he was holding fall into the bed and freezes I realize my mistake.

“What did you just say?”

“You heard me.”

“Yeah, but how did you know what I was saying? Bloody hell, you just made a spell out of nowhere again, didn’t you?”

I shrug at him; Baz is too smart; I’m not surprised he immediately realized what happened.

“How much of what I just said did you understand?” he asks cautiously, looking back at me again.

I know what he’s afraid, but he shouldn’t be. After what he just told me, I can’t stop thinking about him wanting to kiss me, about how his lips would feel against mine.

I take a step forward so that I’m standing in front of him again and I lean closer. All I can think about is kissing Baz right now. It’s all about him in my head.

I put both my hands around his face and I bring my lips to his. His lips are cold against mine, but they are also soft, so soft. I tilt my head to one side and he opens his mouth to me, so I deepen the kiss. His mouth is cold and hot at the same time and it feels like nothing I’ve ever felt before.

When we finally stop to breath I whisper, “can you teach me?”

“Hmm?”

“To speak Norwegian.”

He looks at me curiously. “Why?”

“Because I like how it sounds…” I start to blush before I continue, ”I like how you sound when you speak it.” I can’t believe I just admitted that to him, but Baz blushing because of something that I just said is my new favorite thing.

“Okay,” he says, blushing, then he gives me a slow kiss on my cheek. I close my eyes when he starts to make a slow path of kisses down my neck. “But it will take time... Dev’s mom is from Oslo so we learned it when we were kids.”

“I have time,” I say stupidly. I can’t focus when he’s so close to me kissing me all over.

“Okay then,“ He says as he closes the space between us once again and puts his hand on my hair. It feels so good to have him this close to me, to have him kiss me.

I wonder how long I’ve wanted this. I’d say that I’ve never thought about this before but there’s a list of things in my head that I want to do to Baz so I’d be lying. I wonder how long he’s wanted this… I thought he was plotting about me this whole time. Maybe he was. I don’t know. But for now, I’d rather just focus on his hands travelling all over my body, on his mouth on mine, and on his lips demanding my attention.

Meaning of norwegian phrases:

Han er besatt av deg = he is obsessed with you; hva = what; Jeg er ikke dum= I'm not stupid; simon stirrer alltid på deg= Simon is always staring at you; Beklager = sorry; Jeg vil fortelle deg alt= I want to tell you everything; sannheten er= the truth is; Jeg elsker deg idiot = I love you, idiot.