IC contact

[thirtybits]

"This is Judah's voicemail, no need to leave your number, I'll reply as soon as I can."



text | audio | video | action

Comments

[depicted]

Not nearly enough. [Dorian will answer that no matter how much he has drunk.] Do you want a list of pet names? [He slips his hands around the back of Judas's neck, pulling him closer with seeming artless attention to not unbalancing them both. When he speaks, he does so quietly, in a voice only for the man across from him.] My darling, my dear, my sweet one, my love, my traitor, my Judah. [With a smile, he takes a kiss.] The important part, of course, is the possessive pronoun. As long as you're mine, it doesn't matter what you are. Everything means nothing except what we share.

[thirtybits]

[Though he shies to the touch, Judas doesn't flinch in the same way he might normally. There's the blush, mostly. Dorian's so embarrassing. And then at once there is both a leap and sinking feeling somewhere deep in his chest. It pierces and pulls in its awful hope, some impossible happiness that mustn't be allowed. Caught up in the isolating feeling that simple term brings, Judas hardly reacts to what comes after. Not until he deliberately forces himself to, to pretend for both his sake and Dorian's that he misheard.

'Everything means nothing except what we share'. He'll choose to hang on to those words, at least. 'As long as you're mine, it doesn't matter what you are'. A hand moves to wrap around Dorian's, more Dorian's wrist than his hand, and Judas returns the kiss. Tears threaten, but he feels he must keep them back. It would be stupid to cry now, because of such a line. So instead of addressing any of the points which truly touch him for better or worse, Judas will latch onto something else entirely. Make a joke of it. Though the wavering of the tears he must keep in, come out in his voice.]

'Your traitor' is an interesting one. I thought I was Christ's traitor.

[depicted]

[Even Dorian is not deaf enough to mishear that tremble. He stops, but when he draws away, he leaves Judas his wrist to hold. Dorian studies Judas's face, looking for the cracks he has pressed into now.

Distracted, Dorian explains himself with more honesty than confidence, still seeking his mistake in the hope that he will not repeat it.] You betrayed him, but I'm the one who can call you 'traitor' without hurting you. That makes the word mine to have. Not anyone else's.

[thirtybits]

[A small smile rises. Part in earnest, part in an effort to push back those thoughts and tears. It doesn't matter what you are, those words may not have been directed at what they hit in Judas. But it doesn't matter. They carry that implication with 'traitor' and 'Judah' preceding them. In his mind, anyway. How can anyone be so kind to him without even realising it? Perhaps because everything means nothing except what they share. Those phrases justify eachother.

Judas' thumb strokes the back of Dorian's hand.] It's strange, but true. You could call me anything and I wouldn't take offense or be hurt, no matter how awful it would be from anyone else. Myself included. [Unless it's kind words, it seems. Those may hurt more for coming from Dorian, given the right ones.]

[depicted]

[They each have their ways of wounding one another. Dorian is speaking around three words he cannot think about saying. And with every sentence, he is telling Judas what those three missing words mean.

Dorian takes comfort in the physical contact, eased by it into not fretting so much about what has happened without Dorian realizing it.] I'm glad to hear it. I imagine I'll have a lot of angry things to call you in the future. [Dorian is oddly pleased about that. He enjoys having people who can conduct a real argument with him. It's distressing for him to think that his anger wounds, so their spats have served to make Dorian more comfortable and open around Judas.]

[thirtybits]

[He laughs. Arguments affect Judas much the same. He will always be easily angered by little things, and more often than not will voice it. But as much as anyone wants their complaints to be heard, he wouldn't want them to be taken too much to heart. And for Judas now to be upset with someone is more a sign of trust than anything.] Good, I can take them. I hope you can too.

[depicted]

Haven't I proved I can? [He taps Judas once between his eyes, before stealing some more food.] As I said, you're fun when you're irritated. I like the look you get on your face. Even if that face is shouting angrily at me.

[thirtybits]

'Fun', really? And I'm not so sure about whatever look I get being particularly enjoyable...

[depicted]

Aesthetics and pleasure are both my realms of expertise. I'm afraid you don't get a vote in their valuation.

[He is too comfortable with playing the little lord. But it's extra fun with Judas.]

[thirtybits]

Well I can't say I know how I look, but if I'm to believe the Apostles, it sounds almost frightening. Then again, I haven't been that angry with you. Yet.

[depicted]

You say that as if you expect to become that angry at me. [He anticipates the moment greatly.]

[thirtybits]

Not one of my friends has been spared it so far, why should you break the pattern? Actually, I'd say on average the more I like someone, the more I get upset with them.

[depicted]

In that case, you better hurry up and get angry with me. I'll start to think you don't care. [Dorian would never believe Judas doesn't care. Dorian is very self-assured on certain thinks, and that is one of them.]

[thirtybits]

You'd better start being aggrevating, then. I can't be the only one working at this relationship.

[depicted]

I didn't think it was my role to work. [Class issues, like suicide, are hilarious.]

[thirtybits]

Ah, right. I'm surprised 'your peasant' wasn't part of that list of pet names.

[depicted]

[Dorian dismisses that easily.] Peasant is an unpleasant word. As is serf, or even tenant. I don't enjoy the feel of them.

[thirtybits]

Is there any word for my class you do like, then?

[depicted]

Afraid not. Harry used to refer to 'the lower orders' but I can't really warm to the term.

[thirtybits]

Ahh, too bad, how will I ever respect you like that?

[Finally Judas realises how long he's been holding onto Dorian's hand. It seems so natural, after all.] Ah, sorry - [He lets go, dropping his hand back to his lap and taking a sip of wine.]

[depicted]

My inherent dignity as a gentleman should do the job. [Ha ha ha—

Dorian only half-reclaims his hand. He seems amused.] I don't mind. I enjoy it.

[thirtybits]

Are you sure? You're speaking to an insurgent. I have nothing but contempt for something like that. [lol serious issues]

Actually, I should be asking that about both.

[depicted]

[Dorian leans forward.] Don't tell me that insurgents can't hold hands.

[thirtybits]

[A grin lights up his face.] Not with Romans. Unless it's along the lines of carrying your pack for a mile and another.

[depicted]

[He laughs.] I'm not a soldier. You can't get me into trouble with that.