#murderaer

Aside from their initial bursts of affection, in the haze of the bubbling anxiety and new feelings, public intimacy was not an activity they indulged in. He knew Yuri wasn’t much for displaying feelings in public--or, perhaps, it was him that was more hesitant? Seeing as he had such a reputation and standing that would be changed as more knew of their relationship. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of being with Yuri, a man, no--it was Yuri that ought be ashamed to be with him. Older, a fake heart that faltered now and then and would continue to break down, with a history of betrayal and blind loyalty to the detriment of everything. As the butterflies died, what would be left to keep the wolf by his side? He’d certainly not want to keep him from a potential future with someone better.

So the feeling of a hand slipping into his jolts him, even as his own fingers immediately curl around the other’s, if not for any reason that his response to such unexpected actions is to grab the snake by the head, so to speak. His breath hitches as he falls back onto years of experience to keep expression neutral and not look about to make sure they’ve not got an audience for the moments it takes to relax again. This is fine. This is--well, as he loosens his grip and lets himself feel the heat ‘gainst his fingers--it’s good. It feels nice, and there’s a hint of a small grin, just a corner of his lips risen in that shy sort of new love, even as he tries to push it down because, really, he’s too old for that.

Still, repeatedly telling himself that he’s too old for young lovers’ games doesn’t keep him from being touched or wanting to play. Maybe one day he’ll act his age. Today, however, he’ll simply lean a little bit closer as they walk, and enjoy the way his baggy jacket obscured their hands between them as a secret only they shared, turning his head to make a quip, as if he hadn’t been caught so completely off-guard a moment ago.

Right now, Yuri Lowell looks particularly kissable, he wonders. And immediately freezes, running that thought through his mind once again, the following thought akin to a wordless feeling of ‘what the fuck’ and he’s most certainly pushing that nonsense down. Too drunk, he figures, head shaking over his drink. Hardly had any booze, but, well, since taking a trip with the kids he’s been cutting back. Wasn’t quite so hard to stay sober, wasn’t quite to tempting to drown everything out. This thought though--made him start to rethink this new policy. Didn’t think he could handle that nonsense sober.

  “What’s the problem, old man?”   Dry and biting as always, pulling the old bird back from his cups. Hadn’t been so good at hiding that lil crisis of his, huh. Eh, he’d just play it off, shake it off like always. One little stray thought didn’t mean anything.

  “Nothin’, nothin’. Hey, pass over th’ salt--”   Just pass the night like normal.

--

The light’s behind the wolf now, and the bird has his chin propped up on his hand, slack jaw and expression as he looks, eyes trailing up and down the line of gold that framed the younger’s jawline, the slope his neck, the beginning of his chest--

And then his shoulders hitch as he starts to think again, and realizes what he’s doing. Damn fool. Out goes a frustrated huff of air as he turns away, restless irritation rising to run his hand through his hair now. He was too sober for this. Too damn sober to be admiring a man, admiring Yuri. The hell was he doing.

He plays it off again. He always plays it off. But there’s just the slightest edge to it this time, the making sure he doesn’t look too long, doesn’t get too affectionate, doesn’t lean over and playfully yank Yuri’s hair, doesn’t let his smiles linger. This seems to frustrate the wolf over time. Frustrates himself more. The night ends on a sour note.

--

He’s been thinking. Doesn’t like that. But he’s been thinking. And he’s decided what to do.

Nothing.

Yep, just ignore it. Forget it. Sooner or later those weird feelings will dissipate, or, worst case, become so normal he can just tune ‘em out. Ignoring all his problems has definitely, always worked in the past. Absolutely. What a weight off his chest this decision is! No more fretting over if he’s seriously attracted to a) a man and b) this man. Probably just mistaking the normal feeling of intimacy people feel towards their best friends (which, as sarcastically as the phrase always comes out when saying it aloud, was the truth) anyway.

It’s not like Yuri would want some old bird attempting to woo him anyway. Wouldn’t want the normal schmooze he gives the ladies, the usual over-heavy laying on the charm. Not seriously. As a gag, maybe, and even then it’s all eye rolls and ‘not funny’s. Wouldn’t want that hand on his back, those rough lips by his ear. He’s washed up, he’s got a messy past, got too much bagged that the kid knew too much about to ever have the same thoughts cross his mind.

So, hands in his pockets, a spring in his step, he whistles. It’s all right. He’ll get over it.

--

He’s not really getting over it. Not as fast as he’d hoped. He’d hoped that as soon as he made his decision, it’d stop. Wouldn’t find himself making up excuses to stand so close, at least. Wouldn’t have found an excuse to keep his hand behind the wolf (th’ place is crowded, yeah?) as he puts on a smile that’s part giddy and part forced. Good thing he didn’t really have a heart, so he didn’t have to listen to any damned pounding of a fool. He’s a fool that ought get pounded. Wouldn’t even mind a sorta pounding--

Nope. Nope, not continuing that thought, and it ruins his mood enough to visibly make a face of disgust with himself. Yikes. Really losing it there, bud. Way too old to act like this. He takes his hand back, takes a step away, has to rub his face to rub in how dumb he’s acting. Yuri looks back, looks as if he’s going to say something, but really, the bird has been so strange lately, this might as well be normal. There’s no point to asking what’s wrong. Wouldn’t get an answer anyway. It’d just annoy them both. So the bird settles in, this time with much more distance, and they pretend it’s a normal night, just like all the others.

--

Say, maybe he’s had a couple too many to drink. He was irritated, Yuri’s words were cutting more and more, and they were both on the verge of leaving, calling it a night and trying to play masquerade another day. Rough hands tighten ‘round bottle’s neck--this is a damn dumb way to act. A phrase he’s been repeating over and over to himself the whole night. This nonsense was going to run sour anything they did, wasn’t it. He couldn’t--let that happen, now could he. This was his best friend, after all.

Sure, his guild-mates were fine, he had his hands full with helping run a global power, his skills as spy and pet and assassin coming in handy, all the years he’d spent at the sides of those in charge, and apparently he’d picked up more than he thought. Yet, even with Harry there was distance. The kid didn’t need to know all the bird’s past deeds, all the mistakes and wrongs he did and all the parts that were still sharp and broken. Same went for Karol, and the rest of them.

‘Sides, Yuri was a good reminder what would await him if he fell off the track again. He thought about it still, sometimes. There were still days he felt he shouldn’t be around, days he wondered why the line ought be bothered to tread, what did it matter, days were he damn near just did anything at all he was told to do, just to not think. Ah, but that wasn’t the sort of stuff Raven did, and the young wolf kept him remembering that. Raven was a flirt and a sleaze, but he was also an upstanding member of Altosk. He wouldn’t know what to do without Yuri there. He’d probably be fine, maybe--but it sure wouldn’t be the same, wouldn’t feel quite so right or be quite so happy. Strange thing to say, ‘bout someone who’s business was murder.

There the wolf goes, getting up to leave, and the bird can’t blame him. A slow, unappealing end to the night, and he’s just inebriated enough to lurch to his feet as well, grab the man’s wrist. He doesn’t quite know what to do with it, but he’s got it, and he figures he’s got to say something about.

  “--Sorry. Sorry, ‘bout t’night. ‘Bout th’ last nights.”   Ah, he sounds pathetic, tripping over his words. He can’t even convince himself to look up, just staring at his hand as he holds onto the other, his grip loosening as he speaks. Yuri’s warm. But--he doesn’t think he likes this. Doesn’t like having so many feelings for someone, even if he is overreacting, mistaking any feelings for another. Even if it’s all platonic, doesn’t know if he likes being so tied to someone, so invested in their well-being, so interested in their company. Had he ever cared for someone so much--?

  “Look, this is--this is gonna be weird, a’right? But I just--bah, I’m jus’ overthinkin’ things an’ getting weird.”   He’s so frustrated with himself, so annoyed by not being to deal with this in the way he always has--shove it down and ignore it.This irritation helps push him into his next action, a quick half step forward, thrusting his head near Yuri’s, close ‘nough his own breath warms his lips as he closes in--

And he chickens out. Staying there, freezing. Ah, damn. The wolf pulls back, nose wrinkled from the stench of alcohol on his breath, and those lips part for some sort of beratement, surely--and he’s got his second wind, free hand up to cup the wolf’s cheek as he capitalizes on confusion and irritation to slip in that kiss he’s been thinking about for far too long. A bothersome thing, these ‘feelings’, a more bothersome reaction in his enjoyment of the feeling, wanting to do more than a quick surprise kiss, a there and gone, and really relish that warmth. But he won’t, far too much a coward for even as much as he’s done, and he’s cut off all contact with the wolf as if he was holding hot iron.

His initial reaction is discomfort, feet leaving the ground suddenly has never boded well, his body insists, stiffening even as he’s fully aware of what’s happening. It takes a moment for him to convince those muscles to relax, to figure out what he wants to do, caught in Yuri’s clutches like so.

And he decides to do nothing, draping himself over the wolf and settling with the same air of a cat finding a comfortable spot on a ledge to not move from the rest of the afternoon. It’s far more comfortable than standing around or walking. Heavens, him at his age, walking? Absurd. Let him be carried like the frail old man he is. The sort of senile old coot that’ll take any opportunity to grope his caretaker whenever possible.    

   “Hey, hey, say thin’s like that an’ I’ll think ya care ‘bout me.”   It’s kinda tough to say, words a little slurred on the taste of copper and pain, and he’s sure that tell-tale smile must hit a little macabre with all the blood on his teeth. Can’t help it. Not a serious bone left in his body. Gotta play it off, even now, even when he’s on the ground, bleeding out. His breath is running ragged, catching, hitching, he’s got a hand pressed ‘neath his ribs and he must’ve gotten submerged in water at some point, for there to be that much liquid. Certainly wasn’t concerningly sticky, no sirree. 

Ah–he’ll be fine, yeah? It’s still hot, burning with every little movement he makes, the wolf makes as he leans down and makes that face. Far too serious a face for what they have, surely. The old bird’s not someone to miss. Nice of Yuri to make him feel like he would be though. Makes him sentimental enough to spare the energy to raise his less dirty, less stained hand up to brush aside those beautiful violet locks. 

A slow break of a smile accompanies the pan over--oh, he’s been waiting for this day! Finally! ‘A’ drink? Oh buddy, it’s time to get the young pup drunk and see what happens--! He’s got a bet goin’ with himself ‘bout what type of drunk Yuri is, y’know. His cash is on ‘mopey’ but he won’t even mind dishin’ some gald out if he’s wrong, so long as he gets to see it.

Though, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted to brush him off with a cup of milk or juice instead. But the small frustration of that was far less important than the potential of getting him tipsy.