sunburned | (no subject)

Entry tags:

julie,
priestly

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Suddenly, he's having a hard time sitting still. Concentration is impossible. He draws a lot. He doesn't finish anything. What he does do is draw Laurence a lot, lingering over the lines of his face. Some of the drawings are more successful than others. Sprawled on one of the chairs on the porch outside the hut they share, he all but growls at himself.

He tears the page out. He starts again.

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"All right, here's what I'm going to do," says Priestly. "I am going to get you a shitload of dirty pictures and, like, videos and stuff, and you are going to take care of yourself. Several times. Because yeah, you need to be patient with him, but you've got needs. And when you're not, like, so focused on that, then it's easier to, you know, be patient. I bet Laurence worries that he's frustrating you. I know I would. I mean. I'm just saying...less stress is better, if he's freaking out?"

"Oh, God," says Granby, definitely hiding behind his hand now. "I assure you that I am still entirely capable of doing that much, if the need arises. Drawing isn't all I do."

"Sure, you can," says Priestly, "but are you? Or are you feeling like you need to be saving it for him and so you're being all noble and suffering and shit?"

"I am," protests John, blushing furiously. "Though maybe not as often as I should."

"I'm just saying," says Priestly, and tries not to be amused that for all his worldliness John's still a bit too proper to talk about it casually. "If you're feeling a little pent-up and frustrated with him, maybe he's feeling that too. Does he ever, you know, come to you? Or do you always have to go to him?"

"Always me to him," says Granby, scrubbing his hand back through his hair. "And always fighting not to make him skittish."

"What would happen if you waited for him?" Priestly asks him, quite sincerely. "What if you just waited for him to come to you, for once? He'd do it eventually, and maybe it'd change how he was feeling about it, if he touched you first."

"Nothing. Forever," says Granby, grimly. "You don't know Laurence. I've never known a man more reserved or reticent."

"That can't be true," says Priestly. "I mean, the guy has a dragon. He has to be proactive sometimes. And he obviously likes you, so I can't imagine he'd just do nothing forever. Not forever."

"Hatchlings really don't leave you much choice in the matter," he says, crooked smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "They imprint and, once they have, they rarely change their mind. Laurence is stuck with Temeraire, but he doesn't have to be stuck with me."

"No, he doesn't, but I guess he wants to be," says Priestly, "because he could've said no and he didn't. Look, I know you're into him, but I'm pretty much the guy in your corner, you know? It's my responsibility to make sure he's good to you."

"And I appreciate that," says Granby, pushing the tangle of his dark hair back from his face. "Truly. I can't convey how deeply I appreciate that, my friend."

Priestly bites his tongue to prevent himself from saying what he's really thinking, which is that John deserves a lot better than what he's getting, because this is what John wants and what Priestly knows he's always wanted. What Priestly has always known he wanted, right from the beginning.

"Maybe I just need to get to know him better," he says finally, "so I can offer you better advice. But maybe you don't want him to know that I know. Maybe you don't want him to know anything about us? I don't want to make things worse."

"Hell, why shouldn't he know?" asks Granby, irritably enough but he softens almost immediately, giving Priestly a rueful smile. "He's a grown man. He cannot be so naive as to think that I lived as a monk until he looked my way." He frowns. "At least, I don't think he can. Truly, nothing would surprise me."

"One look at you should've told him that you were getting more than your fair share of action," agrees Priestly. "I mean, look at you. Who's got it in them to resist that?" Except, apparently, Laurence.

"Who indeed," says Granby, a low blush burning in his cheeks under the sunburn.

But at least he finds a smile.

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