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« mocking.bird » TEXT ✧ AUDIO ✧ VIDEO ✧ ACTION Yuri Leclerc ✦ Fire Emblem: Three Houses
RESIDENCE ✦ Emerald District
GEMBOND ✦ Amethyst

"Leave it."

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( ... Which must make him the prettiest thing, huh? Another pulse of warmth flushes through him at the easy sincerity of Balthus's compliment. It isn't flattery — Balthus has never been "that guy" around him — but rather an offhand statement of fact, which brings a glow to Yuri's cheeks that definitely wasn't there before. )

It's getting there. I was actually sorting out the flowerbeds when I noticed my unexpected guests—

( Yuri gestures to the vines still lurking around the back-end of the garden although they wiggle in greeting when they realise they've become part of the conversation. Back on Fodlan Yuri might be genuinely concerned by how completely and utterly weird they are, but you know? They're not the strangest thing he's seen since he arrived here, and after that nightmare week on Primavera ...

Yeah, he's just glad they're not up to something more blatantly insidious. )

But they're kind of cute, right? Seems a shame to chase them away.

( Perhaps when he isn't feeling so calm and dreamy from the scent of lavender-rose he'll feel differently about the consentacles, but for the time being? Yuri is happy to let them investigate the garden, bringing that soothing scent with them as they wind a little closer.

Of course, it's even easier to push them to the back of his mind when the brush against his hand becomes an unspoken pinky-hold. Something flutters in Yuri's chest when he gives it a little squeeze back, before turning his hand to lace their fingers together and bring them palm to palm. His hand feels small in Balthus's — something he'd never had reason to learn before — and there just might be a private swell of pleasure echoing through the bond as it forms between them. )

I was thinking about growing stuff to eat, but the Professor said I could dig some vegetable patches into his land as well.

( Lilac eyes lift to find Balthus's. )

What do you think — there, or here?

[He can feel Yuri's little flashes of pleasure, Balthus realizes vaguely, like echoes that chase after a sound. There's a rhythm to them, a beat of action followed by that flush of reaction, and it's hard not to get addicted to it after a while. Because of course, he feels it, too — and it's hard to tell whether what he's feeling is something residual, passed along through a connection, or if it's a reaction of his own, born of his own delight at having made Yuri even fleetingly happy.

Yuri deserves to be happy. He really does. And not so long ago Yuri was saying that he doesn't feel that way himself, that he thinks he's lost the right to have the things that breed happiness, even though half of what he's chosen to do with his life is trying to bring about happiness for others.

If only, Balthus reflects idly, Yuri could see himself through someone else's eyes. If only there were a way for him to know how great he is, how special he is, how irreplaceable he is. How you could line up a dozen people and he'd still always shine. How Balthus hates it when that chasm widens up between them, because only one of them actually thinks it's actually for his own good.

It's awfully nice just to hold his hand. If only he knew that, too.

And if only Balthus were possessed of his senses enough to remember that Synchrony does, in fact, open them up to knowing all those things about each other — but right now, he's busy breathing in the sweet scent on the breeze, and thinking about vegetable patches laid out into the earth.]

Hmm. There.

[It's an answer he feels first and reasons out after the fact. Shouldn't it be the other way around? Having a food source close by would be practical, and —

Ah.

Yuri's looking up at him, and when Balthus goes to smile at him, he's surprised to find there's already one on his lips.]

Keep the flowers here, for yourself. We can always go get the stuff from the Professor's farm if we need it, yeah?

( It takes Yuri a few long moments to realise that Balthus isn't talking to him, he's simply feeling, and that those feelings are bleeding through the bond to settle warm around his heart. It's — startling, more than anything else, to realise the depth of his friends appreciation of him, and something catches in the back of his throat at how easy it is for Balthus to accept his own feelings.

Irreplaceable.

He thinks he's irreplaceable.

Yuri's own expression softens into a genuine smile as, for perhaps the first time in his life, he allows himself to simply be cherished. )

... Yeah, I suppose we can.

( We. That's a nice idea, isn't it? The two of them living there together, turning the house into a space that's more 'theirs' as opposed to simply Yuri's. He lets his thoughts wander to how that might look on a daily basis: tending the flowers in the garden while Balthus makes a mess with the teapot, dining together more often, enjoying each other's company even in quiet moments of reading or study — heading to the Professor's farm together, where they'd work on a haul to turn into a hearty meal.

It's a glimpse of a life Yuri had momentarily thought was within his grasp all those years ago with Pieter, the merchant's son. He might consider it an unwise comparison later on — might consider it nothing short of inappropriate to imagine such things with Balthus — and yet it feels altogether possible as they stand there in the garden, hand in hand, looking towards their future.

... And just like that, Yuri's world seems a little brighter for knowing he has Balthus by his side.

The consentacles seem to take that moment of realisation as their cue to get involved again. Balthus' batch have reappeared behind the house and seem keen to nudge them even closer together: a sticky tendril winds around Yuri's arm to gently ease him into Balthus's personal space, which forces him to shift the hand-hold into a more intimate linking of the arms. )

Hey. I know you're a busy man — inanimate objects to punch, people to grapple, that sort of thing — but if you're at a loose end today, I'd appreciate the company. It'll get me out of spending the whole day doing chores, if nothing else.

( It's all to easy to rest his cheek against the broad curve of Balthus's shoulder. Deep contentment floods their bond, radiating from an as-yet untouched spot within Yuri's core, and as the scent of rose blends with the lavender he feels his eyelids drooping just a little. He leans more of his weight against Balthus as he strokes his a palm over his bicep: )

It's nice to have you here.

[They're such clever things, these consentacles. It's not like he needs them to wind around his ankles to keep him in place while Yuri snuggles in against his side — because that's really what it is, isn't it, is just some comfortable daylight snuggling — but they still curl around his boots and up his ankles anyway, back to that pleasant massaging motion as they contract and loosen against his legs. It feels kind of like approval, almost. Like a sturdy clap on the shoulder after a job well done, or an encouraging push on the back of the shoulder to keep going with whatever's currently going.

Well, he's not about to argue with that. He's pretty happy with how it's going, himself.]

Huh...? Oh. Sure, yeah, of course.

[Only...the more he starts to think about it, the less he's able to treat it like the idle, offhand thing it probably is. It's hard not to be a little selfish about the prospect of having Yuri all to himself for an afternoon — no other considerations, no pressing demands, no personal sacrifices to draw away his time and attention. There are waves of sleepy contentment bleeding into him and it's hard not to feel possessive of that, when his own protective instincts come alight at the rare sight of Yuri's genuine pleasure and leave him wanting nothing more than to make sure it stays.

Yuri never seems to think he deserves moments like this. When was the last time Yuri rubbed his cheek on anyone's shoulder and almost purred with it? And yet somehow he's done it. He's managed it, just this little bit, and if anyone takes it away from them now, Balthus is going to put them on an express trip to meet their maker.]

Aw, Boss, you really must've been working hard. You're all tired out.

[That's — probably not the reason his eyes are closed and his expression beatific, but it's the excuse that creates a comfortable little pocket of deniability for Yuri to hide in. Balthus may not be a schemer at heart, but he's good at making safe spaces, and this is one of them.]

C'mon, let's go find someplace to sit down. I wouldn't mind taking a load off my feet, either.

( You know? Finding somewhere to sit down sounds pretty perfect to Yuri, who doesn't (yet) seem in the least bit concerned that he's being uncharacteristically affectionate. Later, he might take that little pocket of deniability and run with it until it becomes their accepted version of the truth, but for the time being he's content with their contact and the warm slew of feelings moving through it. )

Sounds good to me. Besides—

( Yuri's smile turns mischievous. )

It's about time I broke in my new sofa properly.

( Evidently teasing, he chuckles into Balthus's shoulder before unwinding their arms so that they can move. He's surprised by how immediately he misses that flush of contact: the Synchrony slows between them, reducing to a gentle tug that keeps him close in his friend's orbit, but it doesn't quite melt away into nothing the same way it might with anyone else. In fact, it feels a little bit like the way it did when Balthus had crash-landed in the Burnished Crater: a deep stirring, low in his chest, connecting them in a way that still feels strange and new.

The consentacles give his wrist a pleased little squeeze as he heads back towards the house. Yuri doesn't think twice about the fact that they're leaving little smears of sap (?) against his skin; he wipes his hand off on his apron before waving for Balthus to follow him through to the lounge, which is still almost entirely half-unpacked boxes scattered around a brand new, squashy looking sofa. )

Pretty nice, right? I got it for a steal — apparently it's "last season" so they knocked off half the price.

( An amused smirk touches his lips as he places a hand on his cocked hip. )

Go ahead, big guy. I want you to have the honour of being the first guest to try it.

Better than my idea. I would've just taken a nap under one of your trees.

[You can take the boy out of the wilderness, etc, etc. Balthus makes a subtle face, though, as Yuri slips away from his shoulder — impossible to pick out unless you were outright looking for it, but a little twist of disappointment nevertheless. Kind of a silly reaction to have, he reminds himself, over something as idle as walking into a house, but really it just makes him unusually aware of his arms and how good it would probably feel to wrap them around Yuri and hold him tight.

Well. Maybe once they're inside.

It's a short walk, anyway, and the vines seem happy enough with it, relinquishing their hold on his ankles and giving a playful little slap to his boots that reminds him a bit of spurring on a horse. And he does, in fact, go trotting off toward the door, out of the pleasant heat of the sun and into the cooler shade of the house interior, and around through into the lounge until he's face to face with what has got to be one of the nicest places to park his ass he's ever witnessed.]

Damn. Half the price, just because it's out of style? I'll never understand that — it's not like it's any less good for sitting on, right?

[But he heads over, running his palm lightly over the ridged fabric of the cushions before settling down onto it, sinking in just enough for the experience to be delightful and hell, he might just fall asleep himself, from this unparalleled comfort.]

It's nice. Fancy. Anybody who sits on it is gonna think you've got great taste, Boss.

Hey, I never said it made any sense — just that it worked out on my favour.

( Yuri slants a cheeky grin in his direction as he settles on the couch. It really is the nicest place to park his ass he's ever seen — far nicer than anything he ever imagined he'd one day own himself — and he can't help a little internal preening as Balthus confirms that he made a good choice. Validation is validation, right?

As Balthus makes himself comfortable, Yuri's attention turns inward to the swell of warmth settled deep in his chest. It's beginning to shape itself into something recognisable: not just general affection for his friend but a need for closeness — a need for physical contact — the likes of which he hasn't experienced in a long, long time. Idly, he lifts a hand to pull the little tie from his hair, and rakes his fingers through the lilac mop just the one in an attempt to make it settle around his shoulders. )

As for my sense of taste ...

( Funny, that. Before Balthus parked himself on the couch it really had seemed like the best place for his ass, but now that he's sat there looking all — all big, and comfy, and likely deliciously hot to the touch ... )

I dunno, B. Sometimes I think that might be a little questionable.

( But he's grinning again, and an impish little sparkle crosses lilac eyes as Yuri reaches for the ties of his apron. It's pulled over his head in one smooth motion before being unceremoniously dumped onto the floor, at which point he moves in close to the couch to drop himself into Balthus's lap.

Let's hope he's not so heavy as to knock the wind out of him! )

[It would take a lot more than a sudden lapful of Yuri to knock the wind out of Balthus — well, at least in a physical sense. Figuratively speaking? Now that's an entirely different story.

He's fine straight through watching Yuri peacocking in front of him, pleased with the triumph of his furniture purchase. He's fine even when his hair cascades down around his shoulders once it's been freed from its tie, like something straight out of a staged seduction. He's even fine when he sees mischief light up his boss's eyes and unnecessary clothes start hitting the floor, because the consentacles have done their work and there isn't a lot that could really break through the warm, sunny, dreamy haze that's been clouding over his thoughts since before he ever arrived.

But there's no haze in the world that could hope to hold up to the sudden, unprecedented feeling of Yuri hopping up to make himself comfortable right in his lap, and it's almost funny how two separate reflexes take precedence: his widening eyes as he goes stock-still, and the way his arms instantly move to help hold Yuri in place in defiance of that.]

Uh.

[He swallows hard, reminding himself to blink. All of a sudden it feels as though there are ten thousand wrong decisions he could possibly make here, and all of them result in Yuri moving away, which means he's got to find the right one and fast.

So, like. No pressure, or anything.]

...Hi.

[If he fucks this up he is going to punch himself unconscious.

One hand carefully settles around Yuri's knees, tugging to make sure that he's both supported and comfortable, while the other curves around the place where his hip starts to narrow into his waist, keeping him steady — and keeping him close. ]

H-Hey. You comfortable?

[Please don't let him move, like, ever again.]

( Yuri feels Balthus stiffen into stillness beneath him as his arms move to rest around his waist, and for a moment he finds himself wondering whether he might have made some kind of silly mistake. After all, it isn't like him to behave so playfully with someone who isn't a mark of some kind: this is the kind of behaviour most usually reserved for bastard-rich nobles, people with information, and guys who'll help him scratch an itch of an evening—

But instead of being pushed away, Balthus holds him close even as his uncertainty dips a toe into their reconnected bond. Yuri doesn't quite know what to make of it, nor is he in the correct state of mind to try and figure it out; all he knows is that Balthus is big, and comfy, and that he's even warmer to the touch than he imagined — all of which makes it easy to let himself drape an arm around his shoulders and let himself relax. )

Hey.

( He replies, bringing his other hand up to rest light against Balthus's chest. A dreamy smile curves his lips as he nudges the tip of his nose against his friend's jaw, satisfaction mingling with easy pleasure as he rubs his thumb against tanned, bare flesh. More of that pleased feeling drips into the Synchrony as Yuri appreciates hard muscle and hot skin, and he exhales a soft breath against Balthus's throat as contentment curls low into his gut.

This is ... nice. Nourishing. Something he hasn't allowed himself in years — and something he never would have expected to find with the Undefeated King of Grappling himself. )

I'm just fine. I'd ask if I'm too heavy, but ...

( A bright chuckle escapes him as, finally, he leans back to give his friend a little space: )

I know how much you can lift.

[The thing is, he's seen an act like this before, well enough to mark it as having all the trappings of a come-on. Women do this in taverns when they're looking for a tipsy willing man to lure back to someplace quiet for an evening; it's a good way of getting your pockets picked if you're not particularly careful, or too overwhelmed to notice or care. And then sometimes women do this and it's not out of any nefarious ulterior motives, it's just out of teasing pleasure, bypassing boundaries and invading personal space and having a good solid laugh over it because they're daring and beautiful and they can.

He's gone home with women before when they've done exactly this, and occasionally he did leave with his pockets a little lighter, but most of the time it just came about as a natural consequence of a night's entertainment. There are a lot of natural consequences to having someone lithe and beautiful snuggle up in your lap, as a matter of fact, and most of them are — are, uh, happening right now, actually.

But this isn't a come-on, he reminds himself a little desperately, no matter how identical to one it might look. It's just Yuri feeling comfortable enough to be playful, and that's enough. It's enough. It's such a far cry from the keyed-up, tense, distance-creating Yuri whose kitchen he'd wandered into on his first night in Sumarlok. This is a happier Yuri, a more contented Yuri.

He can't ruin that for him now. He can't let stupid notions of his own get in the way of letting him play like this.]

Nah, you're fine. To tell you the truth, I barely even noticed.

[that is a daMNED LIE, BALTHUS VON ALBRECHT

and damn, he almost — he almost turns his head a little, almost tries to get Yuri's mouth to land along his jawline instead of that light brush of nose, but he doesn't. He doesn't think about lips working down the column of his neck and how much he likes it when women do that. He doesn't think about how Yuri's palm is just the slightest bit tacky from sweat or sap or the lemonade cup, he's not sure which, and how it feels like it's sunburning his chest where it presses against the skin.

Cut it out, he reminds himself stubbornly, and makes himself readjust his hold on Yuri with a little more confidence this time, shifting and re-settling him so he's not just squarely atop one singular thigh, or his leg's going to fall asleep and start to ache long before he's ready for this to be over.]

Guess that means your nice fancy sofa's still only the second-best seat in the house, though. Sorry for your loss, pal.

( The thing is, Balthus isn't necessarily wrong in his assessment of the situation. This is very much what it looks like when Yuri's in the mood for playful closeness: it doesn't happen very often, nor is it usually as self-indulgent as it is right now, but there have been moments in the past when, say, he's let a hand rest against Balthus's shoulder as he's leant in over a game of cards. Moments where he's fiddled with Hapi's hair, or helped Constance straighten her outfit — anything to weave a little touch into an otherwise helpful gesture.

That's the problem with distancing himself from everyone. Yuri is a tactile person: he likes to touch, likes to be touched, and he likes physical closeness with other people, but he's chosen to strategically separate himself from all that to fit the role he made for himself in the dank halls of Abyss. Touch became a tool that he uses to get what he needs to help his people, not something for him to enjoy simply because he wants to ...

But maybe here in Sumarlok, Yuri can risk a little change.

He lets Balthus reposition him on his lap easily enough — then offers a soft little snort at his friend's comment on the best seat in the house. )

Yeah? I suppose that just means I'm gonna have to invite you over more often.

( Settled comfortably again, Yuri moves the arm draped over Balthus's shoulders so that he can sink his hand into his hair. It's a light little touch — a gentle carding of fingers through the thick, dark locks at the back of his head — but the sensation softens the mischievous pinpricks at the sides of his smile into something undeniably fond. Right now it just doesn't seem to matter that Balthus will be able to feel the honest tenderness in the gesture, or that Yuri's affection for him is radiating from somewhere deep in his heart.

Right now, much like Balthus, he just wants to moment to last. He dips in close enough that his words flare warm against the shell of the other man's ear: )

And hey, I get this seat for free.

( A playful wink as he pulls back. )

I should thank those cute little vines for bringing you all the way here and helping me see sense.

[It's the part when Yuri's fingers rake through his hair, when for a second Balthus forgets how to breathe.

There's something about that touch in particular that abruptly leaves him doubting just how idly playful this all really is anymore — a notion only enhanced by the fact that he can feel the echoes of their connection changing, melting down from something bright and bubbly into a sensation more warm and soft. It doesn't feel like teasing and it doesn't feel like a come-on, even; it's trust, somehow, in the way that he doesn't really let anybody get fingers-deep in his hair like this, but now Yuri's got him by the back of the head and the only thing he can think is that he hopes it stays that way.

It's odd, maybe. His expression doesn't leave him looking quite so much like a deer in the headlights anymore, but his usual bravado is absent, too. He closes his eyes to savor the feeling when Yuri murmurs against the shell of his ear, and when he opens them again, they're soft and reflecting something that ordinarily wouldn't seem to suit the Unrivaled King of Grappling —

He's vulnerable. Open. And so long as his undrawn breath burns away in his chest, he's eerily fine with that.]

Yuri.

[His voice goes low, like too loud a sound might break something.]

Does that mean you'll stay? For a while...?

( When Balthus opens his eyes again it's like Yuri has settled onto the lap of a different person — or rather, the lap of someone who looks almost identical to Balthus but for the vulnerability in his eyes. He seems younger, somehow, as though Yuri is getting a glimpse at the kid he buried beneath layers of swagger and confidence; at a young man who just wants to know that there's someone he can count on to remain by his side.

Yuri has already caused Balthus's trust in him to waver once. He won't do that to him again, and that resolve melts into the pulse of their bond. )

Stay where? Here?

( His free hand drifts down to Balthus's knee to give it a little squeeze. )

Sure, I'll stay.

( And perhaps it's just his imagination, but Yuri swears Balthus is now emanating that soft, soothing scent of lavender where he's settled in beneath him. It isn't an implausible thought: the sap from the vines could very well be clinging to his clothes and skin, but Yuri doesn't think much more of it as he sinks his hand deeper into the warm of the other man's hair. His free hand reaches for Balthus's to lace their fingers together again: )

For as long as you want me to, friend.

[To think: all this, just because he didn't want to waste fifty cents' worth of a dollar lemonade.]

Yeah...here. It's not so bad, right?

[He forgets, sometimes, that Yuri is five years older now than he sort of expects him to be, on reflex. He supposes it's an easy enough thing to forget, considering Yuri doesn't look all that different by comparison. If anything, he's gotten prettier as he's grown into his features over the time that passed, but it's all still in a blink-and-you'll-miss-it kind of way. He doesn't show the years he's taken on, and some people would call that a blessing, and from a certain point of view it could just as easily be called a curse.

They're only two years apart in age, now. Closer to being contemporaries, rather than misfits thrown together and held together by a bond forged in shared struggle. It makes it a little easier to feel his age, when he's not so far everyone else's senior.

If only he knew the right words to say that. If only he knew how to express how, just while this exchange lasts, it feels all right to give up a little of the weight he carries around on his shoulders, because for once it doesn't feel like they'll just transfer over onto someone else's if he does.]

I got such a nice view, and all.

[He smiles faintly, giving Yuri's fingers a squeeze in return.]

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