(no subject)

[pylades_drunk]

It's been over a week, now, since Grantaire's really seen Tunny in any way approaching substantial. Enough time to feel it, enough to get nervous. Enough to turn over two weekends ago in his head, and the sum of the last four months, to replay and rip apart every interaction in detail, berate himself for the ones he wants to linger on.

He's ignored it, drunk through it (which didn't help). But it was picking up the sketchbook too late last night that really told him he was in trouble. He's looked at it a million times since December but hasn't been able to use it, that empty page across from Courfeyrac waiting silent. He'd flipped the page, unable to look at it, and filled the next one with half-finished sketches on top of each other, Tunny's hands, his grin, none of them right, pouring out of his mind like it might help.

It didn't, but it settled it: at this point he has to say something and maybe has to live with what happens.

There are only so many places to look, and when he spots Tunny he has to fight the impulse to freeze. "Tunny," he calls instead and takes a few steps to catch up. "Wait."

Comments

[rage_andlove]

Yeah, okay, he's been avoiding Grantaire but mainly because something occurred to him an he doesn't exactly know what to do with it, now that he's figuredd it out. Tunny's never been great at admitting when he's scared of something and, right now, he's fuckin' terrified. When he hears Grantaire's voice behind him, he glances back. He smiles before he can help it, wonders why he cares if he smiles or not.

"Hey," he says, walking backwards, slowing down.

[pylades_drunk]

Tunny's quick smile inspires relief and nerves in such a combination as to be dizzying. Grantaire just grins back. The easy way he slows makes him feel a little dumb, like there was nothing to worry about.

It's comfortable to just fall in step.

"Hello," he answers. "You've been a little hard to find lately," and he looks up at him sidelong.

[rage_andlove]

"Uh, yeah," says Tunny, and his stomach does this weird dip thing that he sort of hates, because he recognises it for what it is and he's been fighting against it for weeks now. "Been...you know. Busy. The girls and shit."

[pylades_drunk]

That's so vague, and Grantaire feels the nervousness settle back into his stomach. He nods, though. "I understand," he says, and chews on his lip. What obligation does Tunny have to be around?

"Just -- missed you, I suppose," he hazards, squinting at the path in front of them and glancing back up. It barely touches what he's thinking -- and isn't that why he came looking, to say what he means? -- but it feels like a lot.

[rage_andlove]

The fact that Grantaire missed him making him smile, his face flushing slightly. He winces, rolling his eyes up towards heaven, offering a short sort of pray that he isn't about to make a huge mistake. "I think...I think we gotta talk."

[pylades_drunk]

Grantaire chews on his lip and nods in agreement. "All right." It's different and slightly more terrifying to hear that from Tunny than to try to say it himself, and he wishes he could read minds. "It's a good idea, we-." He stops. "You can tell me anything you need to," he finally says, openly, slowing to look at him.

[rage_andlove]

"Come on," he says, pushing open the front door of the house - it's weirdly quiet when the girls aren't home. "I'll make you some fuckin' tea or something."

Jesus. How domestic does he want to be.

[pylades_drunk]

Grantaire grins, both at the gesture and at the wry way it's offered. He's having trouble not taking everything as some kind of inscrutable code (tea? What does tea mean? is tea good or bad?) but he can at least tell he's acting weird and he tries to relax.

"Thank you," he says and follows him in. "I could help." He makes a face at himself. "You know, tea's dangerous, you should have reinforcements," he jokes lamely and leans on the counter.

[rage_andlove]

"Pretty sure I can cope with this without losing the other leg," he says, putting the kettle on the heat to boil, sorting out cups and the pot. God only knows where his taste for tea's come from - it's another thing he'll blame on Priestly. "I..." He frowns. "I'm sorry I haven't been around more. I'm an asshole sometimes."

[pylades_drunk]

Grantaire smiles: the comeback is so Tunny and he just lets him putter around the kitchen.

He frowns, shaking his head. "You don't owe me an apology." That seems ridiculous. Especially after he saved his life, and it's not as though waiting for corpses to kill you until someone risks their life doesn't make you kind of an asshole. "You're not. You're not required to be around, not for me. Though," he adds with a self-conscious smirk, "It's possible you don't get a choice, because I'm here, aren't I? Like it or not." He glances over, half apologetic and half affectionate, and rubs his neck. If Tunny told him that was ridiculous, to go away, he'd go; he doesn't want to.

[rage_andlove]

"Yeah," says Tunny, hating the fact that he can feel his face heating up, the fact that he's fucking blushing as he's making the tea. He's so, so shit at this; he's not cut out for it at all. "Doesn't mean I don't feel like an asshole. I should've..." He clears his throat. "I should've come found you or somethin'."

[pylades_drunk]

"I think you've done enough having to track me down for one month," Grantaire says softly, and steps closer, leaning to try and meet his eyes. His heart is racing and he kind of hates himself for it. He hates the way Tunny says I should've, too, and after nearly two weeks he can feel the short distance between them tangibly. It should be so easy to just reach out and touch him.

"Look," he finally says. "I don't think anything like that. I just missed you. I --" And then he's talking, just talking because that's what he does, biting his lip and staring at the stove a little. "Seeing you makes my day better," he says, quietly, precisely, as if the words might hurt him, and they could.

"It doesn't have to be a bad day. I just say hello, and you smile, and it's safe, you know? For that moment it's right, and I haven't been thinking about what that means. But this week, alone -- and I don't know, Tunny, you scared me last weekend, I had to think about --" He manages to look up then, really look at him. "I know you didn't ask to hear this. For me to barge in on you," and he kind of means more than just tracking him down on the path.

[rage_andlove]

For a moment, Tunny just stares at him. That's a lot of information, all in one go and it sounds...dangerously close to what he's been thinking himself. He just blinks.

"You don't have to stop," he says. "Talkin', I mean."

[pylades_drunk]

Grantaire searches his eyes a little. That's -- good. It's not bad. It's also just a little terrifying.

"I'm glad you don't mean thinking because as far as I can tell I can't," he says with a small smile, and then manages a smirk and says, "most of the time."

He blinks at him more seriously. "I had to think about losing you," he finishes his own sentence. "And I -- can't, I don't--" He closes his eyes in frustration, and maybe a little bit of you-can't-see-me. He can feel his hands shaking a little bit.

"I was up last night, with that damn sketchbook," he says quietly, "and everyone I've loved, and everything I drew ended up being you, and -- this makes no goddamn sense, I'm sorry." He is distinctly NOT looking at Tunny when he opens his eyes, "But I think I love you, and -- I know that sounds mad, it is, it's me, I'm not asking for anything, I just -- should tell you that so you know."

[rage_andlove]

Love. There it is, the word that Tunny's been avoiding in his head for a week and change. Maybe he isn't quite there, yet, not quite, but he's teetering on the edge of it and that feels...terrifying. Terrifying, after Neil. After Neil, and Betty and everything else. For a while now, it's felt like he was in danger of the rage drowning out everything else. If it wasn't for the girls, it probably would have done.

But now there's this.

"It does..." he says, still staring. "Sound mad."

[pylades_drunk]

Grantaire nods, almost imperceptibly, and looks up at him. "Well," he says with a painful smile. "I did say it was me." The crazy one, the one who should just shut up. He can't bring himself to move or look away, for a moment he's just caught, staring at Tunny.

[rage_andlove]

"Jesus, Grantaire, that wasn't what I fucking meant," he says. He steps away from the tea things, closing a little bit of the space between them. "Just...love. You know? It's...pretty...huge."

[pylades_drunk]

He steps closer, out of instinct, out of comfort, something, sighing a little and glancing back up. "I know," he says and raises an eyebrow at himself. "I do know. How it must sound. How it feels." He shakes his head a little. "Tell me a better word for how I feel and I'll say it, but I don't think I can change it." He chews on his lip a little. "I don't think I want to."

[rage_andlove]

"Sudden," says Tunny, and a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. He glances down. "I don't hate it. I'm not...I'm not there. Yet. But..." He looks up. "I don't hate it." He brushes the back of Grantaire's fingers with the tips of his.

[pylades_drunk]

"Sudden is a little how it feels," Grantaire says with a small smile of his own. "And not." It feels a little like he should have expected this, like it was inevitable, but he's been knocked off his feet anyway.

He blinks at the touch, stretches his fingers to lace them against Tunny's; it feels like everything in his chest has been unloosed. "Not hating it is good," he says and catches his lip in his teeth. "Not hating it is very good." He pauses. "...Yet?"

[rage_andlove]

Grantaire's fingers are warm, laced with his. Tunny bites his lip, silver ring digging in. He squeezes Grantaire's fingers.

"I can't...Jesus...I can't stop thinking about you."

[pylades_drunk]

His heart double-times a little at that. "I can't say I hate that," he says softly. And then, "really?" and he feels like an asshole for that. "I'm sorry," he laughs, and glances back at Tunny.

He really wants to kiss him right now.

[rage_andlove]

"Really," says Tunny, and then he does sway in and kiss Grantaire, gently, a little slow and wondering, square on the mouth, their fingers still intertwined.

[pylades_drunk]

Grantaire blinks and kisses him back. So often their kisses are intent or hungry, implicative, demanding, teasing. Which he's more than okay with, but this isn't that, it's soft and exploring and there's something a little new about it, something dizzying, and he presses into it; he could take all the time in the world right now.

[rage_andlove]

In that moment, Tunny feels incredibly open, vulnerable, like anything could strike right at this heart. His free hand comes up to cradle the side of Grantaire's face, his thumb tracing along his jaw as they kiss, right there in the kitchen.