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Post by Adrian Veidt on Nov 11, 2009 20:03:56 GMT -5
"No, now."
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Post by Adrien Baillon on Nov 11, 2009 20:08:07 GMT -5
He laughed. "Adrian - "
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Post by Adrian Veidt on Nov 11, 2009 20:15:38 GMT -5
He stood and clasped the boy to his chest, too tightly for comfort, and shuddered.
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Post by Adrien Baillon on Nov 11, 2009 20:22:16 GMT -5
Adrien exhaled sharply, only dimly realizing the seriousness of this. "Adrian - "
He was uncomfortably close, and was going to try and pull out of it and ask what was wrong when he stopped, tilted his head up to look at Adrian, and then, gently, embraced him back, conscious of but not paying attention to the shrieking kettle. Instead, he rubbed his shoulder and tilted his head against him and said, softly, "...It's... Okay. I'm here. I'm here."
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Post by Adrian Veidt on Nov 11, 2009 20:32:07 GMT -5
"I- Never mind."
He released him, all business once again.
"Go get the tea, will you?"
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Post by Adrien Baillon on Nov 11, 2009 20:34:20 GMT -5
Adrien took a stumbling step backwards, gazing at him very sadly and seriously. Then he came towards him and put his hands on his shoulders, urging him to sit down, before turning on his heel and pouring water for tea in the kitchen, thinking as he did so on what had just happened, and wondering why, at a time like this, he felt a chill.
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Post by Adrian Veidt on Nov 11, 2009 21:07:46 GMT -5
The worst part of it all- the utmost insult- was that none of this would be happening if he didn't truly love the boy.
With an ironic, desperate smile, he sunk back onto the sofa and rubbed his aching temple.
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Post by Adrien Baillon on Nov 11, 2009 21:09:22 GMT -5
In a moment, Adrien stood in the doorway. With that dress hanging off him, he could have been anybody.
"Tea's steeping," he said. "Adrian, do you want me to sing to you?"
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Post by Adrian Veidt on Nov 11, 2009 21:16:28 GMT -5
Adrian glanced over, blinking as if just awoken.
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Post by Adrien Baillon on Nov 11, 2009 21:17:51 GMT -5
"Or.... do you have a radio?" he asked, hugging his elbows and stepping into the room, walking over to come and sit on his knees.
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Post by Adrian Veidt on Nov 11, 2009 21:26:30 GMT -5
"Somewhere, somewhere," he said, gesturing vaguely around the room. "Adrien, you didn't take that aspirin with you when you went home, did you?"
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Post by Adrien Baillon on Nov 11, 2009 21:28:19 GMT -5
"No - no, it's in your cupboard. I can get some," he promised, reaching up a hand to brush Adrian's hair off his forehead. His whole expression softened. "Ohh, poor baby, you really aren't feeling well, are you?"
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Post by Adrian Veidt on Nov 11, 2009 21:35:04 GMT -5
"It's just a headache," he said, smiling up at him. "I'll be fine."
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Post by Adrien Baillon on Nov 11, 2009 21:41:34 GMT -5
"Aspirin first," he said, standing, though he tilted Adrian's head up as he did with one hand at his chin, to keep eye contact with him as he did so. "And then radio, and then it's your turn for a back rub."
He went into the kitchen, fixed their tea, and brought it out, then came back with a small glass of water and a bottle of aspirin, found a radio - dustless, but looking lifeless - prominently displayed on a shelf (along with one or two books he suspected he'd also seen at Adrian's office, and wondered if he couldn't be bothered to bring them with him or if books were actually used as decor chez Adrian Veidt), and turned it on. Josephine Baker was singing about how much she loved Paris. He rather hoped Adrian was coming to like France as much, or at least a bit. Not in the least because, by extension, it meant loving Adrien.
Then he climbed into the chair behind Adrian and started in on a backrub. Along with every other kind of physical contact, he was sublimely good at it.
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Post by Adrian Veidt on Nov 11, 2009 21:48:44 GMT -5
He released a long sigh.
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