Tristan Louis d'Herblay (outofprince) wrote in saveatlantisic, @ 2018-12-19 00:16:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log, #npc, *laura, *melissa |
DECEMBER 13
TRISTAN D’HERBLAY ✦ ROLAND HOOD
FRIENDS + MISTLETOE + GRATUITOUS NUDITY AT THE GYM PG EXCEPT FOR TRISTAN’S LANGUAGE COMPLETE |
For the son of a Musketeer, Tristan was hilariously disinterested in physical fitness. Sure, he enjoyed sword fighting and learning to shoot or throw daggers or any of the other odd assortment of skills his parents and extended family wanted to pass along. But running was for masochists and cardio in general was literally The Worst. But Aramis had passed on just enough vanity that Tris couldn’t not care about how he looked. And Christmas time in Atlantis was basically just a twenty pound weight gain waiting to happen. So. He’d dragged his ass to the gym. Despite the blizzard outside. The positive to that being that the place was pretty empty this time of night and he’d had his choice of machines. He’d worked up a good sweat and then teetered out the motivation somewhere around mile two of his bike ride, spending the next two miles just slowly pedaling and reading a book. Which was what he was still doing as he wandered towards the showers. He had a towel around his neck and his eyes decidedly not on the path in front of him, so obviously he ran smack into a person. “Oh, shit. Fuck. Sorry.” Tristan steadied himself with his hand on the arm of his victim before finally dragging his eyes away from the book. Roland had come to the gym at that hour for the same reasons -- peace and quiet, since he couldn’t even really go snowshoeing with the snow the way it was. It’d been great, being back in his own past, outside of his own awkwardness when it came to his younger self. He’d spent half his time trying to figure out how to avoid breaking his own brain (even though there was a strong argument for it not being a big deal at all, considering everything stayed just fine through Roland’s life). He wasn’t good at sitting still or being stuck inside, either. Swimming laps in the pool had helped settle his mind, and then he’d dawdled in the sauna for a bit before showering off. He’d wrapped a towel around himself, but that was as far as he’d gotten - his clean clothes were still in the bag in his locker. “Oops, I --” He blinked. “Tristan? Hey. Sorry, I should’ve looked.” Maybe in some distant alternate reality, Tristan was smooth. In this one, he was decidedly not. When he realized his hand was on Roland’s bare skin, and that that bare skin was just the tip of the iceberg of all the damp bare skin, he huffed a frustrated noise and gestured up and down at Roland with his book. “I--seriously?” It might’ve come out an embarrassing sort of laughing whine, but he was in a bit of a dry spell and his awkwardness tended to flare up during those. “You--no, nevermind, just. This was my mistake.” He fumbled his book and tried to take a step back but his legs stayed stubbornly locked into place. “Oh god.” Roland didn’t understand what Tristan’s problem was, so he just gave him a questioning look. “You don’t have to look so horrified,” he told Tristan, giving him a lopsided smile to try to hide how strange he felt about the way the other man looked like running into him was the worst thing that had happened all day. He didn’t want to dwell on how that felt, though, so he continued quickly, “I’ll get out of your hair.” Only when he tried to step backwards, out of Tristan’s personal space, he couldn’t actually move. He pursed his lips. This was Atlantis, during December. He knew what this was. “There’s mistletoe, isn’t there?” “What? No--that’s not what I--” Tristan almost forgot about to worry about the mistletoe for a second, with the way Roland had clearly misunderstood what had him flustered. He ended up with the tips of his ears turning red as he buried his face in his hand. After peeking up above them to confirm. “Yeeah. There is,” he huffed. “Right outside the showers is just fucking rude. You hear me, Atlantis?” He looked up and around like he was talking to God, but he hoped the humor in his voice was more obvious now. “You’re fucking rude!” Although he still felt uncomfortable, and still wondered if Tristan was really that put off by him, Roland smiled a bit more warmly at the way Tristan talked to Atlantis like the island might actually listen. Thoughts about how cute it was probably shouldn’t pass through his head, but they did anyway. He shifted his weight, clutching the towel tightly now so it wouldn’t fall and make everything really weird. Why hadn’t he just brought his clothes? “I don’t think Atlantis is listening,” he commented after a moment. “But, I mean, this isn’t … that bad, right? It could be worse? Like a stranger.” In his mind, anyway, someone he’d never see again was far more distressing than someone he already was somewhat comfortable with. Maybe not comfortable like this, but it was a start. “No, god, dude, it’s not a hardship.” Tristan wanted very much to disappear into the floor, but his Musketeer-slash-actual fucking royalty heritage forced him to get his shit together. “It’s just compulsive Atlantis bullshit, you know?” Even growing up here hadn’t made any of that especially easy. Tristan was compassionate and respectful of people’s boundaries. Atlantis was very much not. “Look, Je suis désolé.” He covered his heart with his hand and gave an apologetic smile. “Do you want me to dip you? I can totally dip you.” “Oh.” It was Roland’s turn to blush, now that he understood what was bothering Tristan about their predicament. He’d assumed Tristan thought there was something wrong with him. The truth, at least, meant that he just didn’t want to be forced into it. It didn’t put him completely at ease -- they still had to do something outside the realm of what was normal for their friendship -- but Roland thought he could manage that. At least Tristan was cute. Roland brightened at the idea, and nodded. “We might as well make this fun. No one’s ever dipped me before.” Tristan’s eyes closed as he barked out a laugh. He hadn’t actually expected Roland to take him on that, but he was a man of his word. “Sold,” he smiled warmly now, more at ease than the last few minutes. “I just hope you have some balance, nature boy.” With that, he wrapped an arm around Roland’s back, planted his feet and tipped him backward to plant a kiss on his lips. Roland looped an arm around Tristan’s neck to hold on, keeping his other hand latched firmly on his towel. Despite the somewhat awkward position that he wasn’t used to, the kiss wasn’t bad at all. On the contrary, Tristan’s lips were soft and warm, and once he figured out that he wasn’t about to be dropped, he relaxed and gave into it. When Tristan pulled him back up, Roland’s hand lingered on his shoulder a moment longer than it probably should have, steadying himself. His heart was racing and his cheeks were pink. This was stupid, he thought, Tristan’s my friend and it’s just a kiss. “Well. I -- uh. Thanks for not dropping me on my ass.” Tristan had tried not to focus on all of Roland’s damp skin. He’d even hoped the silliness of a dip would keep him distracted. But it just made him more aware of how little Roland was actually wearing and embarrassingly disappointed he didn’t have an excuse to drag the kiss out. He was glad Roland was flushed too, though. Made the burning of his ears feel more like solidarity than awkwardness. “Yeeeah, hey. Anytime.” Realizing how that sounded, Tristan laughed and took a quick step back, bumping into the doorway. “Oof, I mean, you know, no problem. I should—I’m gonna—“ He pointed behind him and pushed away from the doorframe. “Catch you later?” “Yeah, okay.” Roland had tried to hold back the laugh, but in the end, he couldn’t. He hoped Tristan didn’t take it the wrong way. It was just so endearing, the awkwardness and the clumsiness. He had no idea how someone who looked like him, someone with parents like his, got all flustered like that. Especially about him. He took a few steps in the direction of the lockers, though he didn’t turn around right away, his attention still locked on Tristan. After a moment, he shook his head to snap out of it, and he lifted a hand to wave. “Text me if you get stuck again. Maybe I can dip you next time.” |