#specificite

           You’re dreaming. The thought is immediate as soon as he opens his eyes. They’re standing on a balcony overlooking a pier, and the endless ocean spreads out before them. It’s a nice view, something from the other’s subconscious if he remembers how this worked. He feels the strangeness, the sensation that something is not quite right. He’s not really sure what it is, but he’s felt it before when Alisa has entered his nightmares. Artemios doesn’t feel her at all, and is faintly relieved. No, he remembers why they are here. He remembers that he is doing this for a reason. 

           What does that say about him? That he’s good at playing the con? Maybe he ought to be an actor. There were enough open calls and Jared probably had some contacts being in the entertainment industry and all. Dom almost laughs and feels sick. Another cigarette joins the littered mess by his feet. There’s probably a better place for them, but he doesn’t care. He fiddles with the half crumbled box in his pocket, debating.

                        “I don’t know if that’s a compliment or what. I’m good at pretending I feel alive? Sounds fucking depressing to me.” And that’s what it is, isn’t it? Dom tries not to dwell on that too much and instead watches Arthur’s first attempt at skipping. The rock sinks after one hop. “Yeah, maybe.” The answers sounds hollow to his ears. He doesn’t think leaving is going to help. He doesn’t think anything is going to help.

           There’s a metaphor somewhere about the rocks they’re skipping and his own life, but he doesn’t care enough to figure it out. Dom kicks at dirt and stones and wishes he had the energy to play the role he’s meant to. The one where he makes fun of Arthur for the pitiful skip. Too much like making fun of the girl in the hospital bed, right before the stupid “joke”.

     “i can work with cool.” it could be a lot worse. cool and fucked up wasn’t exactly what he was going for, but he’d take it. and he didn’t mind the mister.      “i think people underestimate you.”

There is a hint of shyness in Eggsy’s demeanor after Arthur’s words sink in. “I’m not...I’m not sure, to be perfectly honest. I’m pretty convinced fat most times I just get lucky or somefink. Like...one big cosmic fluke.”

he steals the first one, a flash of skin against skin that is only justa kiss, barely giving her a chance to react before he’s pulled awaywith a pithy rejoinder, and she’s left spinning her wheels. in the roomwhere they’re setting the kick, she looks at him as he works, trying tofigure out exactly what’s going through his mind. it’s no good. he’s asopaque as a door, and ariadne turns her focus back to the job.

it’s a few months before she sees him again, turning up out of nowherein the luxembourg gardens with a job offer, entirely professional and unflappable. ariadne sort of wants to hit him, but she takes the job anyway because she wants to keep doing this even though that kiss sortof haunts her. just as he’s about to leave, asks if he could take her todinner that night, and before she can overthink it, she accepts. he kissesher cheeks, perfectly normal in france, although she’s so red after he hasleft that she just knows everyone is looking.

that night he brings up that first kiss, apologizing in an honest way thatmakes her earlier frustrations dissolve, although she does point out hecould have asked first. he agrees, and some impulse drives her to addthat he could have put a little more effort into it too. at first he seems tobe stunned into silence; maybe the dinner was just an apology, but thenhe moved his wine glass and asked to try again. when a few minutes ofthe most tender, romantic, head-spinning kiss she’d ever had passed,she had to admit that he certainly had put in the best effort possible.

one job turned into two turned into three, and they were unquestionably ateam, both in the field and otherwise. sometimes the job got messy, andthe worst resulted in arthur being beaten all to hell, and they narrowlyescaped st. petersburg with their lives. later, hidden in a safehouse asthey waited for the heat to die down, ariadne did her best to patch him up,her hands shaking with fear at how close she had just come to losing him.he took her hand in his bloodied one, squeezing gently, his eyes clear,present, reminding her that he was there, he was fine. she leaned overand pressed a kiss to his forehead, breathing in, breathing out.

@teachermade

@specificite

@waywarddrifters

@manifestredemption

@snowinabottle

There’s a cough, then a snort as the elder rouses from his nap-- he hadn’t actually meant to take a nap, lack of proper sleep plus age not exactly leaving him with much pep to stay awake.

         Maybe at one point that had been all it was. The want to corrupt this too-sheltered kid. He was a bit younger. He seemed to follow Dom’s every move like he was the coolest person. It wasn’t really all that unusual. And then somehow they had had become friends and-- someone told him once that friends don’t want to kiss friends. And they definitely don’t want to do other things.

        He brushes the thoughts away without worrying about it. There’s a slight shudder when Arthur’s hands slide up his spine. Dom trails after his lips, like nothing else is important, not even air. Once the words leave Arthur, Dom is kissing him again; slow this time. Arthur has definitely gotten better at it, but Dom thinks he might still have been kissing him even if he hadn’t. It says a lot. It says too much. Dom doesn’t dwell on it. Instead, he draws back just slightly, just enough so that when he speaks, skin still touches.