Eh, I put up with a lot of people pretty often. You're far from the worst.
[A lot of people put up with Kieran, too. He tries not to get distracted in his own thoughts about that tape - maybe he should ask Harry if he wants to film their own porno sometime. Is he into that? Or was it maybe a one time thing... or something tethered to his ex. God, he's got so many exes.]
You looking to give?
[Playful. Normally he'd go with that thought - expand it, be bold and bright about it. Yes, I want my own London flat. I want every game console in the living room, a bedroom for my collectables and a bedroom just for fucking in. I want a kitchen with two fridges and a Jeep in the garage.]
I still wouldn't mind a vacay. It gets boring here after a while, but my dad's invested.
I'll have to check my books, but I'm sure I can worm away some time.
[Unless he ends up entangled in some family drama. But for now, he lets himself (and Harry) be occupied with the fantasy of time away - he stretches out his arms and hoists himself a little farther up Harry's torso so he can nuzzle in against his jaw. He encourages him to wrap his arms around him in return, giving a little testing roll of his his to see what it might inspire.]
There should be beaches. Warm, warm beaches. Clothing optional beaches.
[Kieran had opened his mouth to reply as if the word Nunavut made sense, but by the time Harry had corrected himself - whatever was in his head to say had disappeared like a dream after waking. Weird, but... New Zealand? He raises his brows, nuzzles his neck a little more and then gives his hips another subtle roll.]
I like the sound of that. The greenery's nice. And there's lots of whales, right? I wanna see whales.
[He asks, pushing his palms into the bed so he can lift himself up just enough to look Harry eye to eye. He watches his expression, and debates whether or not to sit up or not. He feels like there's plenty of 'strange rooms' in the manor yet he can't seem to think of many offhand...]
[What's in the baaaaax, Harry? Kieran is now interested and engaged, and sits up; hips still over Harry's, straddling him but in a still somehow leisurely way. He rests his hands down on Harry's abdomen and sides, like the world's most docile bull ride.]
[After all that's been going on, it's more that Kieran thinks perhaps that was just the exact moment Harry hit 'rock bottom' after all that's happened. Exes. Dumped. Delirium. Just a bubble finally popping around him, leaving him to wonder and feel even more peeled back and unsure of himself. He could leave it at that, but...]
Sometimes I look in the mirrors here and I don't think I know who's looking back at me. Is that weird, too?
[This got so unsexy, but he's not complaining. He just holds Harry's hand because - well, sugarbaby or not, there's always the comfort part of this relationship to deal with. And he just got the weirdest surreal feeling that makes him want a little reassurance too. So he squeezes Harry's hand.]
Maybe we should get out of here sooner than later.
I care for you. I just said it's different than love.
[But now he's shifting off of Harry, to sit next to him - tugging on Harry's arm so he sits up a bit to rest with his back against the headboard too. He finds that same nook of space he likes at his side, and holds Harry's arm around his side.]
You're not in love with me, either. But you care, too, don't you?
[Harry moves with the overly careful manner of the very drunk, wrapping Kieran in his embrace.]
Yes.
I think... you're not the smartest man I've ever met, and you really ought to aim higher than video games, but you are sweet. You listen well. I like that about you.
That's just the thing though, I don't know what else I want. I have the guise of youth to hide behind as my excuse but - I dunno. Aim higher? How high is high? Where is high? What is high?
[You did say aim higher, ask for more. He makes himself cozy, but isn't tired. He'll lay and chat, or if he notices Harry falling asleep, just kind of vibe. But he's not restless, which is rare for him. The goblinmode has been temporarily shut off.]
Very well. Once upon a time, a long time ago but not too terribly far away...
There was once a poor old fisherman, and one year he was not getting much fish. On a day of days, while he was fishing, there rose a sea-maiden at the side of his boat, and she asked him, "Are you getting much fish?"
The old man answered and said, "Not I."
"What reward would you give me for sending plenty of fish to you?"
"Ach!" said the old man, "I have not much to spare."
"Will you give me the first son you have?" said she.
"I would give ye that, were I to have a son," said he.
"Then go home, and remember me when your son is twenty years of age, and you yourself will get plenty of fish after this."
[You know, one has to ask. But it would seem that this is 100% the way to get and keep a wild Kieran docile; he's fully engaged in the story, chewing on his thumb nail a bit as he listens - actually anticipating whatever angle the story was to take next.]
Well. No. He actually had a truly ridiculous number of adventures before finally rescuing the king's daughter from a many headed sea monster. After that they were married, but then the 'fish baddie' did appear and steal the lad away.
The princess, being a clever sort, took her harp to the sea-shore, and sat and played; and the sea-maiden came up to listen, for sea-maidens are fonder of music than all other creatures. But when the wife saw the sea-maiden she stopped.
The sea-maiden said, "Play on!" but the princess said, "No, not till I see my man again." So the sea-maiden put up his head out of the water. Then the princess played again, and stopped till the sea-maiden put him up to the waist. Then the princess played and stopped again, and this time the sea-maiden put him all out of the water.
[As he speaks, Harry plays with Kieran's hair gently.]
[He says, yawning just a little - turns out playing with his hair continues to pacify him, putting him into a near doze-like state. Just awake enough to listen and notice disruption to the story, should it happen, but fading enough that his movements are minimal and his breathing is deepening. Murmured:]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[A lot of people put up with Kieran, too. He tries not to get distracted in his own thoughts about that tape - maybe he should ask Harry if he wants to film their own porno sometime. Is he into that? Or was it maybe a one time thing... or something tethered to his ex. God, he's got so many exes.]
You looking to give?
[Playful. Normally he'd go with that thought - expand it, be bold and bright about it. Yes, I want my own London flat. I want every game console in the living room, a bedroom for my collectables and a bedroom just for fucking in. I want a kitchen with two fridges and a Jeep in the garage.]
I still wouldn't mind a vacay. It gets boring here after a while, but my dad's invested.
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[Harry is at such a low point that his words barely read as sarcasm. 'Not the worst' is pretty good, currently.
He's also at a point where spoiling a new boytoy seems like a great idea. Part revenge, part fulfilling a need to look after someone.]
A holiday it is, then. Pick the place, dear boy. We'll go as soon as possible. Sod this place and everyone in it.
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[Unless he ends up entangled in some family drama. But for now, he lets himself (and Harry) be occupied with the fantasy of time away - he stretches out his arms and hoists himself a little farther up Harry's torso so he can nuzzle in against his jaw. He encourages him to wrap his arms around him in return, giving a little testing roll of his his to see what it might inspire.]
There should be beaches. Warm, warm beaches. Clothing optional beaches.
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Mm. How about Nunavut?
[He pauses, frowning with the sort of concentration only the drunk can manage.]
Excuse me. I meant to say New Zealand. They've beautiful beaches. White sand, clear water... what more could one want? We could go snorkeling.
[He hugs Kieran to him. His heart is beating just a little too fast.]
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I like the sound of that. The greenery's nice. And there's lots of whales, right? I wanna see whales.
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[He feels cold all over and has to force himself not to clutch Kieran too tight. Harry swallows.]
Kieran... have you. Have you found a strange room, in your time here?
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[He asks, pushing his palms into the bed so he can lift himself up just enough to look Harry eye to eye. He watches his expression, and debates whether or not to sit up or not. He feels like there's plenty of 'strange rooms' in the manor yet he can't seem to think of many offhand...]
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[He speaks slowly. He only found it once, when he was drunk, after his messy public meltdowns. Alicent had helped him back to his room, after.]
But it was full of very old chests and trunks... dust everywhere, you know, like it hadn't been opened in years. There was a box...
[He has to close his eyes, his entire body suddenly aching.]
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[What's in the baaaaax, Harry? Kieran is now interested and engaged, and sits up; hips still over Harry's, straddling him but in a still somehow leisurely way. He rests his hands down on Harry's abdomen and sides, like the world's most docile bull ride.]
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Treasure. But then it wasn't. It was... broken glass, I think. And something else, something dead.
I can't recall. But ever since, things have felt wrong.
[He opens his eyes.]
Do you think I'm losing my mind?
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[After all that's been going on, it's more that Kieran thinks perhaps that was just the exact moment Harry hit 'rock bottom' after all that's happened. Exes. Dumped. Delirium. Just a bubble finally popping around him, leaving him to wonder and feel even more peeled back and unsure of himself. He could leave it at that, but...]
Sometimes I look in the mirrors here and I don't think I know who's looking back at me. Is that weird, too?
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[He takes one of Kieran's hands in his own.]
I'm frightened.
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Maybe we should get out of here sooner than later.
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...I will put you up. I know you do not care for me, not really, but that's alright.
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[But now he's shifting off of Harry, to sit next to him - tugging on Harry's arm so he sits up a bit to rest with his back against the headboard too. He finds that same nook of space he likes at his side, and holds Harry's arm around his side.]
You're not in love with me, either. But you care, too, don't you?
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[Harry moves with the overly careful manner of the very drunk, wrapping Kieran in his embrace.]
Yes.
I think... you're not the smartest man I've ever met, and you really ought to aim higher than video games, but you are sweet. You listen well. I like that about you.
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[No offense is taken, however.]
That's just the thing though, I don't know what else I want. I have the guise of youth to hide behind as my excuse but - I dunno. Aim higher? How high is high? Where is high? What is high?
[... Damn, he wishes he was high right now.]
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[Or so he dearly hopes.
Harry lets go of Kieran's hand.]
Thank you.
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[And, also, maybe he just wants to stay here. Maybe he thinks Harry could use someone here.]
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[He pats the mattress.]
Stay. If I snore you may kick me. Otherwise... just stay. It's safer.
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[You did say aim higher, ask for more. He makes himself cozy, but isn't tired. He'll lay and chat, or if he notices Harry falling asleep, just kind of vibe. But he's not restless, which is rare for him. The goblinmode has been temporarily shut off.]
Tell me a bedtime story.
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[Harry gets cuddled in, not quite asleep yet.]
Very well. Once upon a time, a long time ago but not too terribly far away...
There was once a poor old fisherman, and one year he was not getting much fish. On a day of days, while he was fishing, there rose a sea-maiden at the side of his boat, and she asked him, "Are you getting much fish?"
The old man answered and said, "Not I."
"What reward would you give me for sending plenty of fish to you?"
"Ach!" said the old man, "I have not much to spare."
"Will you give me the first son you have?" said she.
"I would give ye that, were I to have a son," said he.
"Then go home, and remember me when your son is twenty years of age, and you yourself will get plenty of fish after this."
no subject
[You know, one has to ask. But it would seem that this is 100% the way to get and keep a wild Kieran docile; he's fully engaged in the story, chewing on his thumb nail a bit as he listens - actually anticipating whatever angle the story was to take next.]
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The princess, being a clever sort, took her harp to the sea-shore, and sat and played; and the sea-maiden came up to listen, for sea-maidens are fonder of music than all other creatures. But when the wife saw the sea-maiden she stopped.
The sea-maiden said, "Play on!" but the princess said, "No, not till I see my man again." So the sea-maiden put up his head out of the water. Then the princess played again, and stopped till the sea-maiden put him up to the waist. Then the princess played and stopped again, and this time the sea-maiden put him all out of the water.
[As he speaks, Harry plays with Kieran's hair gently.]
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[He says, yawning just a little - turns out playing with his hair continues to pacify him, putting him into a near doze-like state. Just awake enough to listen and notice disruption to the story, should it happen, but fading enough that his movements are minimal and his breathing is deepening. Murmured:]
... What next?
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