nikolai (damnably handsome) (ofravka) wrote in valloic, @ 2022-03-18 11:24:00 |
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Entry tags: | !: action/thread/log, the last binding: edwin courcey, ₴ inactive: nikolai lantsov (2) |
Who: Nikolai Lantsov and Edwin Courcey
What: Edwin visits Chastity's Nook. Nikolai lightly tortures him by bearing witness.
When: Today!
Where: Chastity's Nook
Warnings: Light references to smut
Nikolai had only been working at Chastity’s Nook for a few weeks, but he felt like an employee from back in the day, by now. Caleb had leaned on him quite a bit while Essek was in the sphere, so Nikolai had gotten a crash course in a lot of things. He could confidently point out individual smutty book sections, knew enough about the magical books to give an overview of them, and had even processed a return or two. Granted, he’d never worked in a bookstore or in any store before, but he was no snob, and hard work successfully distracted him from missing his friends and feeling the crushing sense of doom that had a way of hanging over his head.
It was toward the end of his shift now. Caleb had been kind enough to let him design his own shift times due to the ever-present threat of Nikolai becoming a monster and murdering all the customers, and Nikolai tried not to take advantage of that generosity. He tended to leave the store around 3:00pm, which gave him some downtime before he headed to STAR Labs to sequester himself.
He was reorganizing some BDSM books (shame Zoya wasn’t here; he’d have loads of smart remarks if she was) when the door to the shop opened. Contrary to his outgoing personality, Nikolai didn’t believe in bombarding people as soon as they entered the store, and so let the person take a breather and come to grips with the fact they were in a smutty book shop on their own. He’d check in on them in a bit.
Edwin still wasn’t quite used to how open everyone here was about… well, everything, really, but especially regarding sexuality. Even heterosexual couples back home, in Edwardian England, hadn’t been so publicly affectionate; so much as confessing you were in a homosexual relationship was liable to lead to a prison sentence; Edwin had been fifteen when the Wilde trial had taken up the headlines, and he still remembered it keenly. It was nice though, hearing men talking of their husbands, and women talking of their wives, and seeing them being openly and happily affectionate in the streets. He wished Robin could see it.
And he wished Robin could see this bookstore. Robin wasn’t particularly bookish, but Edwin knew he’d read the same Roman tracts that Edwin had, purchased in dingy bookstores through the use of a passphrase, wrapped in brown paper, and thin enough that it was more of a pamphlet than a novel, smut with only the suggestion of a story. Here, the books sat in full display, varying degrees of thickness, the covers illustrated and proudly proclaiming what laid between the pages. It was a little embarrassing to purchase – more embarrassing by far than making an offhand comment about the weather and getting an anonymously written pamphlet, wrapped in paper, at least – but the embarrassment was mitigated, somewhat, by the fact that the only place he knew the person he was buying it from was the bookstore where they were being sold.
He picked out a promising looking book, and read the plot synopsi written on the back (again, how novel! pun not intended) as he made his way into the BDSM section, and then, when he realized there was someone else in the aisle with him, he looked up.
Right into the face of Nikolai.
He’d seen, of course, that Nikolai was working here, and usually made a habit of glancing through the window to be sure he wasn’t working before he entered the shop. But he hadn’t seen him today when he’d looked.
He tried to think of something to say, found he couldn’t think at all, and decided instead to follow his instincts: he turned around, book still clutched firmly in his hand, and began to walk toward the exit.
Nikolai had been in the middle of saying “hello!”, pleased to see a familiar face in the midst of his workday, when said familiar face looked vaguely ill and fled, clutching one of the bawdier first novels of a series. All right. Well. Nikolai supposed that different people had different boundaries when it came to how open they were about their proclivities. For all his flirtations he’d attempted to be discreet, himself, but apparently his version of discretion was nothing on Edwin or Edwardian England (whatever that was).
He might have let the other man go, and teased him about it later, but Nikolai saw that he appeared to be… headed to the door?? And that would not do. Caleb hadn’t gotten specific about the anti-theft spells discouraging shoplifting, but Nikolai guessed they wouldn’t be a romp.
“Not to interrupt your hasty retreat,” Nikolai piped up, using the sort of princely royal bellow that had a tendency to politely silence entire ballrooms, “but you’ll need to pay for that.” He tried on a smile to see how it fit: “I’ve no capability of nullifying whatever charms the owners have going and asking ‘pretty please’.”
Edwin froze mid-step. He’d known Nikolai was a king back in his own world, but this was the first time he’d thought he might have a sort of kingly bearing. Not that Edwin had ever met King George, or King Edward before him.
He turned back to Nikolai, and then looked at the book in his hand, as if he was only just now aware that he had it in his hand. He had, in fact, completely forgotten that he was carrying it. There was really no hiding what it was – the two men on the cover were locked in a rather passionate embrace, and he found himself longing for the thin, bound, purple pamphlets of his own world, anonymous to anyone who wasn’t already in the know. Of course he couldn’t just leave with the book clutched in his fingers. Even if there hadn’t been a charm in place – and of course there was – he would have only gotten a couple blocks before he realized what he’d done, and then he’d have to slink back here. It was, arguably, even more embarrassing, though at this moment he couldn’t think of how anything could be more embarrassing.
He tried to think of something clever to say. Something light and teasing. What would Robin say in this situation? Or even Nikolai?
“Ah, yes I… I guess I do need to do that,” he managed, which had the benefit of at least being a sentence, even if it wasn’t an especially witty one.
Nikolai’s eyebrows had gotten lost somewhere inside his blond hairline, but he managed a reasonable facsimile of professionalism as he gestured to where the checkout was. It wasn’t in his nature to bully someone who was clearly having a bad day, but oh, how tempting it was to tease.
“I’ve been here only a few weeks now,” he said, going behind the counter and reaching for the filthy novel Edwin had clutched in his hands, “and nothing surprises me anymore. Everyone’s purchasing something filthy. It’s a good thing I’m too lazy for blackmail; you might have to buy me a drink otherwise.” He gave Edwin a wink because he couldn’t help himself.. But even with Nikolai being Nikolai, he hoped Edwin didn’t pass out. Surely all the blood the man had was in his face right now.
For a moment, Edwin refused to relinquish the novel, the half-formed thought flitting through his mind that he could still leave it on the shelf and not buy it after all, but reason and common sense took hold of him before he attempted it. He let go of the book, and struggled for a moment to get himself under control, which wasn’t made any easier with Nikolai winking at him.
But in the end, the certainty that he was being made fun of was what did it for him; perhaps the teasing was meant well, but Edwin wasn’t going to take the chance that it wasn’t, and give someone the satisfaction of seeing him getting worked up about it.
“And how dreadful that would be,” Edwin said dryly.
Nikolai meanwhile was frowning at and working the cash register like it was potentially a trap due to spring any moment - he was better at it but it was still foreign to him. Technology in general was something he largely faked with a smile. “Not dreadful at all,” he answered, half-listening, half-focused on not making the thing produce angry noises. He looked up, flashed another one of those toothy smiles, and added: “I’ve certainly had worse. But have you? All right, I’ve got this thing figured-- here’s how much you owe.”
He tapped the price on the (rather racy) cover, and considered it a personal triumph that he did not comment.
It was very annoying, the way that Nikolai insisted on flashing those disarming at Edwin every time he thought he managed to get his feet back under him. “Have I what? Had worse drinks?” Edwin asked, brows furrowed. “I presume yes.” He’d gone for some truly dreadful drinks in his time, and he’d have been, frankly, impressed if Nikolai managed to top them. He pulled out his wallet and handed over the cash.
Nikolai took the cash and carefully placed each piece of money where it was required to go, matching like to like. “So this wasn’t me-me, but I think it counts. My body double was going on a date with a Shu princess and she stabbed him, thinking it was me.”
He held out Edwin’s change. Nikolai’s tone remained light, and his expression was its usual devil-may-care, but there was a pinched quality to his eyes. He still felt awful about that boy’s death, however necessary it had been. But it (sadly) wasn’t the first time an attempt had been made on his life. Dating was fraught when you were Nikolai Lantsov, and a king, and a monster.
“I also once had homebrewed kvass when traveling to Fjerda,” he added. “Fermented. It managed to be salty and sweet, and wasn’t alcoholic enough to make up for the taste.”
“Well, I can’t say anyone’s ever attempted to stab me on a date, so I suppose I shouldn't complain too much about men whose most interesting quality is how rude they are to the wait staff," Edwin responded. Them, or Hawthorn, who’d never missed an opportunity to make Edwin feel small.
He wanted to ask about the body double, whether or not he’d recovered from the stabbing. He thought he must’ve, from how Nikolai spoke of the incident, but he wasn’t entirely certain, and it seemed like a dour question to bring up here, while the man was working. Edwin wasn’t entirely lacking in tact.
“And that sounds truly awful, though have you ever tried the chocolate covered pretzels here? They’re really quite tasty.”
“I’ve never had much use for anyone who considers themselves better than the people they’re accepting service from,” Nikolai said with a lopsided smile. “That’s the mark of a potential tyrant, in my books. And.. chocolate covered pretzels? I haven’t, actually.” Nikolai didn’t ask if Edwin wanted a bag; he pulled one out - it was unmarked, not a logo or anything that would hint as the store’s wares it might contain. “We’ve got pretzels back home, but they’re different. Large, soft - I’m given to understand the ones here have a different texture entirely. I’ll see if I like them and report back.”
“Your book, good sir.”
“Salty and sweet, but worth it even without the alcohol,” Edwin assured him. “Unless it does taste fermented, in which case you should probably not eat it.”
He took back his book, glad that he hadn’t had to ask for a bag – despite the earlier evidence to the contrary, he had no intention of walking down the street with the thing uncovered – and found, to his mild surprise, that he no longer wanted to sink into a hole in the ground until his inevitable death, despite the fact that he was still relatively certain that Nikolai had been teasing him.
“Thank you,” Edwin added. “I’ll let you get back to your work.”
Nikolai studied the other man. Edwin looked a little less like he might vibrate with embarrassment into lightheadedness, which was good, and his ultimate aim with all the blathering. Nikolai was skilled at blathering, at putting people at ease.
And sometimes he even used his skills for good.
“Of course,” he answered, straightening and dusting off the counter, something to do with his hands. “Thank you for stopping by.” He smiled. It was positively angelic. “Let me know how you enjoy that book.”
Saints, he just couldn’t help himself. He had always had a soft spot for flustering the serious ones.
Edwin opened his mouth for the usual response to that question, which was ‘of course,’ and then stumbled when he remembered what the book was. He snapped his mouth shut, shot Nikolai a withering glance, though it lacked any real heat and might have, possibly contained a spark of amusement, and turned to leave.