[TROJ] Brush
Dec. 19th, 2013 08:46 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
n_wilkinsonTitle: Brush
Universe: The Requiem of Janus, post-canon
Characters: Janus, Alcaeus
Warning: Spoilers
Description: Inch by inch, step by step, a bridge is formed by the smallest of gestures. (SFW)
The cursing was a low mutter but it seemed to pierce straight through Janus' concentration. He furrowed his brow, snapping his book shut. The collection of fairy tales was barely holding his interest anyway. Setting the novel aside, he swung his legs off the bed, pulling a robe over his shoulders.
“Ow! Damn it!”
There was a snarl and a clatter from the next room. Janus slid his feet into a pair of slippers, lips twitching with amusement as he tracked the cursing to the adjoining bathroom. Janus followed it, padding silently across the polished floor.
He leaned against the door frame as another curse spilled into the air, folding his arms over his chest. His eyes found Alcaeus sitting on a bench, a fistful of gnarled hair in one hand and a bristle brush in the other. He was scowling at his reflection, part of his hair piled into a messy bun on his head.
“What on Lieve are you doing?” Janus asked, years of practice making it easy to hide his amusement.
“Brushing my hair.”
Janus' lips twitch again. “You seem to be having some trouble.”
Alcaeus tossed him a baleful look. That he did so without hesitation made something in Janus' heart flutter. Of course, he then followed it up with an inaudible mutter before he attacked a particularly nasty tangle of air with the brush.
“What?” Janus asked.
“I said,” Alcaeus replied with a hiss, “that Ceres did this for me.”
“Surely not every night?”
Alcaeus dropped his hand, giving up and letting the brush dangle loosely. “Why else do you think I kept it braided most of the time?” Red eyes glittered with a dare, challenging Janus to tease him.
As if Janus would have room to talk. Before the Fall, he'd had a near-army of servants to help tend to his needs, including doing his hair.
He pushed himself off the wall, holding out his hand. “Here. Let me help.”
Alcaeus blinked. “Help?”
Janus leaned down and snagged the brush from his limp fingers. “Yes.” He circled around to Alcaeus' back, free hand snagging the pin in Alcaeus' hair and pulling it free.
Long, tangled strands of white spilled over Alcaeus' shoulders. Whatever he had done to cause the knots had done a fantastic job.
“I have some experience with long hair after all,” he replied. Though, not anymore. Not since he had chopped off his hair after the Fall.
Alcaeus made a noncommittal noise in his throat, but sat up straighter. “Thanks.”
Janus smiled where Alcaeus couldn't see and carefully began to brush the thick snarls out. It was a surprisingly soothing action, oddly intimate, and the only sound to fill the bathing room was Alcaeus' quiet breaths and Janus' own.
“Have you ever considered cutting it?” Janus asked, if only to fill the quiet. It wasn't awkward, but he could see it becoming so, and the last thing they needed was the addition of more awkward. Their relationship, if one could call it such, was difficult to manage enough.
“Once or twice. Ceres begged me not to. My mother preferred it long.”
Ah. A peek into Alcaeus' past. Sometimes, Janus was so casually reminded about all the things he didn't know about his lover that it didn't sting. Other times, Alcaeus was blatant about it, as though some punishment for their first tumultuous year.
“And now?”
Alcaeus rolled his shoulders. “It's a habit.”
“It's long,” Janus commented before he realized just how banal such a statement was, despite it being the truth. When he'd first met Alcaeus, the braid reached to his mid-back. Loose and brushed, it skirted his hips. “Maybe just a trim to keep it manageable?”
“Maybe.”
Janus carefully worked the brush through Alcaeus' hair, clearing the tangles and knots until it lay soft and smooth against Alcaeus' back. It was the white of age, but had the glossy sheen of youth. Janus set the brush aside, his fingers dragging through Alcaeus' hair, which was soft to the touch, but heavy when he lifted it in his hands.
Alcaeus didn't move, said nothing, which Janus took as permission.
His fingers brushed the crown of Alcaeus' head and then slid downward, through the long strands, enjoying the silky slide of hair through his fingers. He heard Alcaeus' sharp intake of breath, watched Alcaeus grip his knees, but still no protest came.
Janus leaned closer, the perfume of whatever soap Alcaeus had used filling the air. It was rich and heady, sandalwood perhaps. Heat stirred in his belly, a lazy need.
“Shall I braid it for you?” Janus asked as his fingers brushed the nape of Alcaeus' neck, and teased the bare skin behind his ear.
A tangible shiver raced across Alcaeus' body. “I am surprised you know how.”
It was not a no. Janus parted the long strands into three sections. “I suspect that there are many things I can do of which you are not aware.”
A noncommittal noise rose in Alcaeus' throat, but he obliged by tilting his head to accommodate Janus' movements. Patches of his hair were still damp to Janus' touch. If he dried in a braid, would it come undone with a crimp in it later? Janus tried to imagine Alcaeus with curls or waves in his hair and the very thought made him stifle a chuckle.
“Could you hand me a tie?” Janus asked once he was done. Alcaeus offered one immediately, the leather thong the perfect choice for keeping the braid pinned. “There. All done,” he announced, patting Alcaeus on the shoulder.
The former guard shifted on the bench, turning to look at Janus. “Thanks,” he said, tone a bit gruff but his gaze full of curiosity, and perhaps something else.
“You're welcome,” Janus said, and the normal, polite exchange was a whole new world for Janus. Gratitude had always come in one other flavor to him – worship. This simple form was preferable. “Are you coming to bed?”
It was a toss-up, some nights, whether Alcaeus would choose to sleep alone, or willingly crawl into Janus' bed for the one thing that remained easy between them. Conversation could be stilted, and casual interaction was awkward, but the sex never ceased to be satisfying. Their bodies, at least, would always be compatible.
Alcaeus rose to his feet, fingering a strand of hair that Janus had somehow missed in the braid. “Yeah,” he said, tucking it behind his ear. “I am.”
A slow smile crawled over Janus' lips and he turned to hide it.
Maybe this could work after all.
***
a/n: I'm attempting to get more of these mini-fics out there, just glimpses of Alcaeus and Janus between The Requiem of Janus and the upcoming sequel Fugue of Shadows. I hope to get started on the sequel next year. *fingers crossed*
Feedback is always welcome and appreciated.
Universe: The Requiem of Janus, post-canon
Characters: Janus, Alcaeus
Warning: Spoilers
Description: Inch by inch, step by step, a bridge is formed by the smallest of gestures. (SFW)
The cursing was a low mutter but it seemed to pierce straight through Janus' concentration. He furrowed his brow, snapping his book shut. The collection of fairy tales was barely holding his interest anyway. Setting the novel aside, he swung his legs off the bed, pulling a robe over his shoulders.
“Ow! Damn it!”
There was a snarl and a clatter from the next room. Janus slid his feet into a pair of slippers, lips twitching with amusement as he tracked the cursing to the adjoining bathroom. Janus followed it, padding silently across the polished floor.
He leaned against the door frame as another curse spilled into the air, folding his arms over his chest. His eyes found Alcaeus sitting on a bench, a fistful of gnarled hair in one hand and a bristle brush in the other. He was scowling at his reflection, part of his hair piled into a messy bun on his head.
“What on Lieve are you doing?” Janus asked, years of practice making it easy to hide his amusement.
“Brushing my hair.”
Janus' lips twitch again. “You seem to be having some trouble.”
Alcaeus tossed him a baleful look. That he did so without hesitation made something in Janus' heart flutter. Of course, he then followed it up with an inaudible mutter before he attacked a particularly nasty tangle of air with the brush.
“What?” Janus asked.
“I said,” Alcaeus replied with a hiss, “that Ceres did this for me.”
“Surely not every night?”
Alcaeus dropped his hand, giving up and letting the brush dangle loosely. “Why else do you think I kept it braided most of the time?” Red eyes glittered with a dare, challenging Janus to tease him.
As if Janus would have room to talk. Before the Fall, he'd had a near-army of servants to help tend to his needs, including doing his hair.
He pushed himself off the wall, holding out his hand. “Here. Let me help.”
Alcaeus blinked. “Help?”
Janus leaned down and snagged the brush from his limp fingers. “Yes.” He circled around to Alcaeus' back, free hand snagging the pin in Alcaeus' hair and pulling it free.
Long, tangled strands of white spilled over Alcaeus' shoulders. Whatever he had done to cause the knots had done a fantastic job.
“I have some experience with long hair after all,” he replied. Though, not anymore. Not since he had chopped off his hair after the Fall.
Alcaeus made a noncommittal noise in his throat, but sat up straighter. “Thanks.”
Janus smiled where Alcaeus couldn't see and carefully began to brush the thick snarls out. It was a surprisingly soothing action, oddly intimate, and the only sound to fill the bathing room was Alcaeus' quiet breaths and Janus' own.
“Have you ever considered cutting it?” Janus asked, if only to fill the quiet. It wasn't awkward, but he could see it becoming so, and the last thing they needed was the addition of more awkward. Their relationship, if one could call it such, was difficult to manage enough.
“Once or twice. Ceres begged me not to. My mother preferred it long.”
Ah. A peek into Alcaeus' past. Sometimes, Janus was so casually reminded about all the things he didn't know about his lover that it didn't sting. Other times, Alcaeus was blatant about it, as though some punishment for their first tumultuous year.
“And now?”
Alcaeus rolled his shoulders. “It's a habit.”
“It's long,” Janus commented before he realized just how banal such a statement was, despite it being the truth. When he'd first met Alcaeus, the braid reached to his mid-back. Loose and brushed, it skirted his hips. “Maybe just a trim to keep it manageable?”
“Maybe.”
Janus carefully worked the brush through Alcaeus' hair, clearing the tangles and knots until it lay soft and smooth against Alcaeus' back. It was the white of age, but had the glossy sheen of youth. Janus set the brush aside, his fingers dragging through Alcaeus' hair, which was soft to the touch, but heavy when he lifted it in his hands.
Alcaeus didn't move, said nothing, which Janus took as permission.
His fingers brushed the crown of Alcaeus' head and then slid downward, through the long strands, enjoying the silky slide of hair through his fingers. He heard Alcaeus' sharp intake of breath, watched Alcaeus grip his knees, but still no protest came.
Janus leaned closer, the perfume of whatever soap Alcaeus had used filling the air. It was rich and heady, sandalwood perhaps. Heat stirred in his belly, a lazy need.
“Shall I braid it for you?” Janus asked as his fingers brushed the nape of Alcaeus' neck, and teased the bare skin behind his ear.
A tangible shiver raced across Alcaeus' body. “I am surprised you know how.”
It was not a no. Janus parted the long strands into three sections. “I suspect that there are many things I can do of which you are not aware.”
A noncommittal noise rose in Alcaeus' throat, but he obliged by tilting his head to accommodate Janus' movements. Patches of his hair were still damp to Janus' touch. If he dried in a braid, would it come undone with a crimp in it later? Janus tried to imagine Alcaeus with curls or waves in his hair and the very thought made him stifle a chuckle.
“Could you hand me a tie?” Janus asked once he was done. Alcaeus offered one immediately, the leather thong the perfect choice for keeping the braid pinned. “There. All done,” he announced, patting Alcaeus on the shoulder.
The former guard shifted on the bench, turning to look at Janus. “Thanks,” he said, tone a bit gruff but his gaze full of curiosity, and perhaps something else.
“You're welcome,” Janus said, and the normal, polite exchange was a whole new world for Janus. Gratitude had always come in one other flavor to him – worship. This simple form was preferable. “Are you coming to bed?”
It was a toss-up, some nights, whether Alcaeus would choose to sleep alone, or willingly crawl into Janus' bed for the one thing that remained easy between them. Conversation could be stilted, and casual interaction was awkward, but the sex never ceased to be satisfying. Their bodies, at least, would always be compatible.
Alcaeus rose to his feet, fingering a strand of hair that Janus had somehow missed in the braid. “Yeah,” he said, tucking it behind his ear. “I am.”
A slow smile crawled over Janus' lips and he turned to hide it.
Maybe this could work after all.
a/n: I'm attempting to get more of these mini-fics out there, just glimpses of Alcaeus and Janus between The Requiem of Janus and the upcoming sequel Fugue of Shadows. I hope to get started on the sequel next year. *fingers crossed*
Feedback is always welcome and appreciated.
