Ficlet, 758 words, Van/Tran friendship
Aug. 18th, 2012 10:21 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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last_herald_mageSo I was writing the Van/Tran thing and for some reason, I thought of this scene even though this is years in the future and there's no way I can work it into the fic. So here you go.
Tantras could read the signs all too well; the distracted look in Vanyel’s eyes when he wasn’t focused on Court or Circle business, his offers of a friendly drink and a card game turned down. Another relationship was crumbling apart. Whether the man had already broken off from Vanyel, or Vanyel was contemplating or had already broken off with him made little difference. That was why he was heading to Vanyel’s room with half a cold chicken, a loaf of bread and some wine; Tantras would be damned if he was going to let Vanyel isolate himself and brood himself into depression again.
Before he could even knock on the door, it swung open and revealed Van, barefoot and wearing the same worn out clothes he always changed into when he wanted to relax.
“I felt you coming all the way from the end of the hallway,” he said by way of greeting and explanation.
Tran held up the wine invitingly. Van rolled his eyes and stepped back, allowing him to enter.
“Yes, I know he didn’t deserve me anyway, and yes, I know it wasn’t my fault,” he said as he grabbed two simple mugs from the sideboard. “So just pour the wine and let’s get drunk already.”
“It’s that simple?” Tran asked.
“It’s that simple,” Van replied firmly.
“Horseshit.”
Vanyel gave him a sour look. Tran stared him down. Vanyel sighed and flopped on the couch, holding out his mug and gesturing for Tran to fill it.
“So what was it this time?” Tran asked as he filled it to the brim.
Vanyel sighed deeply, contemplating his wine. “The usual. I didn’t spend enough time with him. He didn’t think I cared about him anymore. I was just using him for sex.” He snorted and took a long swallow.
“Were you? Just using him for sex.”
Vanyel just looked at him.
“Was it really that bad?”
Vanyel said nothing, just leaned back and drained his mug.
“Did you have to fake it? Please tell me he wasn’t obtuse enough to not notice you were faking it.”
That earned Tran a laugh, and a gesture to refill his mug.
“Not as bad as all that,” Vanyel said. “Just not very imaginative.”
“What, he only wanted you on your hands and knees?” Tran said, pouring the wine.
“I could only wish. No, he was one of those who thought fucking was “impure” or “dirty” or some other load of horseshit.” He snorted indignantly. “Of course it’s dirty. That’s what makes it fun.”
Tran laughed at that. It may have been years ago, but he remembered what Vanyel was like in bed.
“If the only thing you’re going to do a man is suck his cock, do it right for gods’ sakes,” Vanyel groused. Tran had hoped that if he intervened before Vanyel had had time to get good and convinced there was something wrong with him and he should stop even trying, he could redirect Vanyel into being indignant over the affair. Looked like he’d succeeded.
“Here,” he said, tearing off a piece of chicken. “Get some of that in you, and pace yourself for hell’s sake.”
Vanyel grabbed the chicken leg. “The problem is, that I’m a damned selfish bastard. No, hush, it’s the truth.” He took a slightly smaller gulp of wine. “He was right. I didn’t spend enough time with him. I was using him.” He took a bite of chicken. “I liked him well enough,” he said around a mouthful. “He was fun to be with.” He washed the chicken down with another mouthful of wine. “But I only wanted him on my time. I was all take and no give.” He held out his mug for another refill.
“Eat the rest of your chicken first, and this,” Tran said, ripping off a chunk of bread. It was dark, dense, chewy bread the servants ate. A lot of Heralds had a taste for it, Vanyel included. The light and tasteless bread the Highborn ate was too expensive and didn’t keep well enough to be served to soldiers, and the Heralds who served alongside them. Vanyel made a face and snatched it from him.
“I thought you came here to get me drunk,” he accused.
“Gods preserve me. Yes, I came here to get you drunk. Responsibly. I have no desire to spend half the night holding back your hair.”
“You’re too kind, really.”
Tran chuckled as he poured himself a half a mug. “Here’s to unimaginative cocksuckers.”
Vanyel saluted him with the chicken leg.
Tantras could read the signs all too well; the distracted look in Vanyel’s eyes when he wasn’t focused on Court or Circle business, his offers of a friendly drink and a card game turned down. Another relationship was crumbling apart. Whether the man had already broken off from Vanyel, or Vanyel was contemplating or had already broken off with him made little difference. That was why he was heading to Vanyel’s room with half a cold chicken, a loaf of bread and some wine; Tantras would be damned if he was going to let Vanyel isolate himself and brood himself into depression again.
Before he could even knock on the door, it swung open and revealed Van, barefoot and wearing the same worn out clothes he always changed into when he wanted to relax.
“I felt you coming all the way from the end of the hallway,” he said by way of greeting and explanation.
Tran held up the wine invitingly. Van rolled his eyes and stepped back, allowing him to enter.
“Yes, I know he didn’t deserve me anyway, and yes, I know it wasn’t my fault,” he said as he grabbed two simple mugs from the sideboard. “So just pour the wine and let’s get drunk already.”
“It’s that simple?” Tran asked.
“It’s that simple,” Van replied firmly.
“Horseshit.”
Vanyel gave him a sour look. Tran stared him down. Vanyel sighed and flopped on the couch, holding out his mug and gesturing for Tran to fill it.
“So what was it this time?” Tran asked as he filled it to the brim.
Vanyel sighed deeply, contemplating his wine. “The usual. I didn’t spend enough time with him. He didn’t think I cared about him anymore. I was just using him for sex.” He snorted and took a long swallow.
“Were you? Just using him for sex.”
Vanyel just looked at him.
“Was it really that bad?”
Vanyel said nothing, just leaned back and drained his mug.
“Did you have to fake it? Please tell me he wasn’t obtuse enough to not notice you were faking it.”
That earned Tran a laugh, and a gesture to refill his mug.
“Not as bad as all that,” Vanyel said. “Just not very imaginative.”
“What, he only wanted you on your hands and knees?” Tran said, pouring the wine.
“I could only wish. No, he was one of those who thought fucking was “impure” or “dirty” or some other load of horseshit.” He snorted indignantly. “Of course it’s dirty. That’s what makes it fun.”
Tran laughed at that. It may have been years ago, but he remembered what Vanyel was like in bed.
“If the only thing you’re going to do a man is suck his cock, do it right for gods’ sakes,” Vanyel groused. Tran had hoped that if he intervened before Vanyel had had time to get good and convinced there was something wrong with him and he should stop even trying, he could redirect Vanyel into being indignant over the affair. Looked like he’d succeeded.
“Here,” he said, tearing off a piece of chicken. “Get some of that in you, and pace yourself for hell’s sake.”
Vanyel grabbed the chicken leg. “The problem is, that I’m a damned selfish bastard. No, hush, it’s the truth.” He took a slightly smaller gulp of wine. “He was right. I didn’t spend enough time with him. I was using him.” He took a bite of chicken. “I liked him well enough,” he said around a mouthful. “He was fun to be with.” He washed the chicken down with another mouthful of wine. “But I only wanted him on my time. I was all take and no give.” He held out his mug for another refill.
“Eat the rest of your chicken first, and this,” Tran said, ripping off a chunk of bread. It was dark, dense, chewy bread the servants ate. A lot of Heralds had a taste for it, Vanyel included. The light and tasteless bread the Highborn ate was too expensive and didn’t keep well enough to be served to soldiers, and the Heralds who served alongside them. Vanyel made a face and snatched it from him.
“I thought you came here to get me drunk,” he accused.
“Gods preserve me. Yes, I came here to get you drunk. Responsibly. I have no desire to spend half the night holding back your hair.”
“You’re too kind, really.”
Tran chuckled as he poured himself a half a mug. “Here’s to unimaginative cocksuckers.”
Vanyel saluted him with the chicken leg.
