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Who: Miles and Gregor
When: the night of the 13th
Where: the kvortira
What: Miles gets back to the cabin after his date with Bel, confusion and feelings ensue
Warnings: EMOTIONS

Tonight...sure has been a night.

Miles' head is still spinning from it all, the ghost of Bel's mouth still on his lips, his pulse still in his throat even as he staggers down the hall back to his cabin. The whole night seems both to be a blur and to stand out in sharp detail, the warm energy between himself and Bel and every small touch standing out against a backdrop of blurred lights and night sky. And that tussle in the bar -- dodgy as hell, but it was exhilarating, being in the thick of things, back to back with Bel -- like the good old days, except it was hardly that long ago. But however exciting that brawl had been, Miles knows the adrenaline from that has long faded, and whatever rush he's feeling has nothing to do with the feel of a good fight.

It isn't as though he hasn't noticed the tension that's been building between them, it'd be impossible not to -- Miles has been trying to puzzle it out all this time -- he just didn't think it'd turn out like that. He still doesn't know what to make of it, what to make of the warm thrill that kissing Bel had sent through his chest -- beyond the obvious -- but somehow he's having a hard time wrapping his head around it. And the way things had ended with Clark just a week ago... Miles' chest is all knotted up over it, a clouding feeling in his chest, like something fit to burst. He doesn't like this feeling, this untanglable mess of a feeling, doesn't like that he can't solve it at a glance. God dammit.

He had the good sense to change back out of his Dendarii uniform and stuff it in the bag he's been carrying with him all night, so that when he finally shuffles back into their cabin well past midnight ship time, he's back in his Barrayaran uniform, looking only slightly rumpled. The lights are off when he slips in, tossing his bag quietly onto his bunk before he folds onto it with a whoosh of a sigh. Too amped to sleep just yet.

Comments

[lets_see_what_happens]

A light flicks on from the other bunks and illuminates Gregor's pale face as he sits up on his bed, watching Miles with a sort of fuzzy, curious intensity, sleepy but alert.

"Miles," he says quietly, not loud enough to wake Ivan. "How was your evening?"

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Miles blinks blearily a few times when the light goes on, squinting up at Gregor's bunk. Miles hasn't actually bothered to take his boots or uniform off yet, but he's just tired and still a little drunk enough that he's seriously contemplating doing away with the effort entirely.

"Sorry, Gregor. Didn't mean to wake you," Miles mumbles in a hushed tone, just audible enough to Gregor. He rubs at his face and flaps his other hand at Gregor in a dismissive gesture. "Uh, it was fine. You go back to sleep, no need to get up on my account."

Because then Miles can get right on burying his face in his own pillow in a concentrated effort to pass out and circumvent this whole endless train of thought altogether.

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"It's all right I'm not terribly tired."

Gregor shifts in his bunk, then rises, making his way carefully over to Miles' and settling on it next to him, watching him intently in the dark.

"'Fine'? Is that why your face is bruised and you look like someone rolled you down a hill? Are you injured anywhere else?" Do I have to drag you bodily to medical? goes unsaid, but it's not like he won't do it if he thinks it's necessary.

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Oh, come on. Gregor's seated himself on the bed before Miles can stop him, and he suppresses a thin groan. He is tired, and a little drunk, and he's not sure he really wants to have a conversation about this right now. Actually, he'd kind of just like to sleep this all off and see if he feels any less disgustingly confused in the morning, but he is clearly in for a Conversation. He resists the urge to flop back on the bed and pretend to be asleep. He's been taking lessons from Sans, it could work.

"Yes, fine, no, and no," Miles says wearily, rubbing at his face. He fingers over the contusion on his jaw, the light swelling, but he's had far worse. "Just a few scrapes and bruises. Nothing broken. I am, however, very tired."

He has no doubt that Gregor will catch the hint, but he doubts it'll stick. Worth a shot anyway.

[lets_see_what_happens]

"Did you get into a fight on your date with Bel, Miles?" Gregor looks down at him, a little nonplussed--he's not sure whether to be amused or appalled, so he settles on a healthy dose of both, though it's clear Miles is frazzled about more than a brief scuffle.

"You sure know how to show a herm a good time."

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Miles could've done with a little less amused and a little more appalled, to be honest, and he lets out a snort as he finally gives in and falls back on the mattress, his head pillowed over the bag with his Dendarii uniform stashed in it. "It wasn't really a date, Gregor. We were doing recon." So that's what the kids are calling it these days... Miles winces only slightly as he probes at the slight swelling on his jaw again. "Low-key, just hitting up the rumor mills and seeing what trickled downhill. The atmosphere just...escalated."

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"Would you like some ice?" Gregor asks quietly, his eyes penetrating on Miles' face in the near-dark, and his tone doesn't brook a great deal of argument.

"In exchange for the whole story, perhaps?"

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Miles might not be quite as wise to Gregor's expressions as Ivan is, but he feels that gaze, even in the dark. He folds his hands behind his head and wrinkles his nose at the bottom of Ivan's bunk.

"It doesn't really hurt. Can I pass on that trade, or is that a demand politely framed as question?"

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"No," Gregor sighs. "I do not request and require that you fill me in on the details of your da--er. Reconnaissance mission with Captain Thorne." He levels Miles with a Look, palpable even in the dark. "I assume that if you discovered anything of import besides an escalating atmosphere, you would tell me without being--" prodded, poked, pushed, persuaded "--prompted."

Gregor pauses for a moment, looking like he's chewing something over as he watches Miles, the focus on his face giving way to a softer expression, if no less attentive.

"Miles... are you all right? Not the fight, I mean, just--in general." There's another pause, and Gregor's voice is just a little smaller when he speaks again. "...can I help?"

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Miles winces at that Look -- he'd be able to feel it even if he couldn't see it. Damn it, Gregor. "Of course I would," Miles protests. "But we didn't come up with jack shit. It was all vapid rumor with no substance, or more or less common knowledge. Empty gossip."

Actually, it's damned frustrating, although he'd been distracted from that by the kiss, Bel's taste warm in his mouth... Gregor takes him by surprise, first by the tone and second by the words, and Miles reflexively curls in on himself as his gaze snaps back up to Gregor's face, his expression an odd mix of bewilderment and incipient panic. "I'm -- fine, help with what?"

[lets_see_what_happens]

Gregor looks startled when Miles draws away, then even more concerned than before.

"Because you don't seem fine, and if I knew how I could help I'd be doing it already. So I'm asking you if I can."

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Oh, hell. That was the wrong response. The last thing he needs is to alarm Gregor at all, let alone further, and Miles could bite his tongue off. He wrenches his expression into a mangled attempt at a smile as his mind works frantically for a way to exit this conversation gracefully and close the topic without raising suspicion.

"I'm -- " Miles' mouth hangs open, hinging on the moment. He comes up dry. "I don't know," he sighs, his body going lump against the bed, his head only propped up by the bag he'd taken out with him earlier that night. "It's been...an eventful night. It isn't anything to worry about, though."

[lets_see_what_happens]

"Too late for that," Gregor says, gently wry, and he doesn't reach out for Miles again, looking down at his hands, instead. "You don't have to tell me about it, Miles. About any of it, really. You've just seemed... worn, lately, and I wanted to ask. As--as a friend." Those words are surprisingly difficult to say, but he chokes them out after a moment's hesitation before he sighs, his cheeks faintly flushed in the dark, worried he's making a hash of this.

"Of course, I can also just let you get some sleep, as you requested." He levers himself off Miles' bunk quietly. "Good night, Miles."

[forwardmomentum]

Miles could bury his face in his hands and cry. He doesn't remember the last time he's had a conversation with Gregor this fumbling and awkward, let alone make Gregor sound like that. It's almost painful to hear, the way Gregor asks him as a friend. Of course he sounds a little crushed, how often does Gregor get to do anything in the capacity of a friend? God dammit, Miles Vorkosigan, could you be any more of a jackass.

"No... Gregor, wait." Miles sits up, rubbing his face, and looks up at Gregor entreatingly. It isn't like keeping it a secret would work for long, he'll probably hear about it from Bel anyway, and god, he doesn't want to make Gregor feel like that. Like they're not friends. Miles is a lot of things to Gregor, he knows -- cousin, foster brother, vassal secundus, but how often does he get to be a friend to Gregor? He blows out his breath and rests his elbows on his knees, letting his hands hang limply at the wrist.

"Sorry, it's just -- " He drops his gaze, mouth twisting in a look of self-consciousness that should be well familiar to Gregor by now. "Not the easiest thing to talk about. On the level of, ah...pride, I think. I'm not really sure." He scratches at his head, looking at a loss. "You don't have to go."

[lets_see_what_happens]

"...all right."

Gregor sits back down and watches Miles quietly for a moment--his gaze is level but not expectant, not pressuring Miles to speak. He just looks thoughtful.

"Did something happen, Miles?" he asks finally, leaning his elbows on his knees and loosening his hands, his posture open. "That you'd be comfortable telling me, I mean."

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Miles covers his face with his hands and lets out a despairing laugh. Oh, god, what awful scene has he put in Gregor's imagination? He shakes his head, huffing out a breath.

"Nothing happened, Gregor. I...kissed Bel." A hysterical giggle escapes him that dissolves into a hiccup as he drags his hands down his face and stares at them. "Well. I guess something did happen."

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"Oh." Gregor is silent for a moment. "That certainly qualifies as 'something,' yes."

He watches Miles hard and bites slowly at his lower lip.

"You don't... seem particularly thrilled about it."

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"I'm...I don't know what about it." Miles peeks at his lap through his fingers and blows out his breath. "It happened kind of fast. It just...happened. I mean, it just happened."

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"I see," Gregor says, and he feels like he's actually beginning to, though he's not sure if he likes it. His eyes are narrowing very slowly on Miles' pale, lined face in the dark.

"And what happened afterwards, then, if you don't mind my asking? "

[forwardmomentum]

And Miles isn't sure he likes the way Gregor is starting to sound, either, just barely managing not to wince in the dark. He should've just let Gregor go back to bed, should've just let this topic die right here. Miles draws in a breath and rubs at his face, vision going bleary.

"I -- " Panicked? " -- apologized and told them we should call it a night. I...didn't mean for it to happen."

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Gregor goes still, one eyebrow climbing slowly.

"I see," he says, his voice just slightly clipped now. "You apologized? For kissing someone who's been quietly pining after you for years? Why would you apologize for a thing like that, Miles?" Please consider your answer to this question carefully, his tone says, and his gaze is very level.

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Miles winces at that slight shift in Gregor's tone, his posture -- even in the dark, he can see it. He pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers and falls back against the bed again, his head hitting the bag behind him.

"Because I -- because Bel's been carrying a torch all these years. Because I didn't meant to do it and I didn't know what I wanted from it, or after it, or if I wanted it at all. And I didn't want to lead them on or give them false hope or -- or start something I couldn't finish. Because I didn't want to upset the balance. Because -- " Miles finally stops talking at light speed to draw breath, and he huffs it out in a defeated sigh. He covers his face with his hands. "Because I think I made a mistake."

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"You certainly did," Gregor says, and his voice is cold for a moment before he reins in his temper, taking a slow breath.

"So you kissed them in a moment of adrenaline-fueled panic and instead of explaining to them that was why and that you weren't sure what you wanted, or telling them you were worried about damaging your friendship, you apologized as though you were sorry you touched them at all? If you are worried about upsetting the balance between you both, Miles, I think that is not the way to keep it." His eyes narrow.

"And I should think that you'd know that Bel deserves better from you, after all this time. For their loyal service, all personal feelings aside."

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Miles flinches at Gregor's cool tone, drawing his legs up onto the bed in an attempt to curl in on himself, not caring about dragging his shoes on his bed for a moment. He fervently wishes he could just dismiss this topic and send Gregor back to bed, undo everything he's already said about it. Stupid. This was incredibly stupid. "Gregor," he starts, fumbling, and then his cousin finishes off that little lecture, and Miles, suddenly defensive, jerks back up into a sitting position.

"What do you want from me?" he finally snaps, crossing his arms over his chest and tucking himself against the wall, away from Gregor. "I was panicking, you just said it yourself. What d'you expect, a carefully composed form letter in the heat of the moment? I'm still panicking, dammit, and I just -- " He bites down on his sleeve with a sharp inward breath and a muffled growl of frustration. "I'd like to see you unpack any of this in the space of ten seconds, let alone ten minutes. Do you think I feel good about what just happened? I apologized because I didn't know what else to do just then, and I still don't know."

He draws his legs against him as voice loses its edge and goes small. "I don't know that I didn't want it."

[lets_see_what_happens]

Gregor watches Miles, very still for the entirety of Miles' tirade, his lips pressed into a thin line. He stays that way for a long moment once Miles is done, before he lets out a long, soft sigh.

"...you're right. I'm sorry, Miles. I know this is... complicated." He reaches out, hesitates, then briefly touches Miles' shoulder. "You'll work it out. But Bel's on your side whether you decide you want them or not, and so am I, all right?"

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Miles peels his hands away from his face to look at Gregor, and then he heaves out a great sigh. He looks exhausted, and he is. He sits up a little straighter anyway, letting out a tired laugh.

"It's...alright. You're not entirely wrong, either." Miles rubs at the back of his neck, the short hair that's gotten a little longer.

"I know. I know they are. I don't know that that makes it easier, though. But -- thank you, Gregor." He lifts his head a little to look Gregor in the face, tired but genuine. "It means a lot. I just..." He blows out his breath. "I don't know yet. And I'd -- appreciate it if you didn't share any of this with Ivan."

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Gregor manages to not look offended, mostly, before his own face softens a little.

"It's your business. Well, and Bel's. But if you don't wish for Ivan to know about your personal affairs, I'll keep your confidence. You can have my word, if you like."

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Miles waves him off tiredly. "Thank you, Gregor, but not necessary. I just don't want to endure the parade of jokes at my expense right now. My dignity's taken enough hits for today."

With one final breath, he collapses back on the bed again, this time a great deal more loose-limbed. "I'll figure it out," he says aloud, though whether it's to Gregor or himself, he isn't entirely sure.

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Gregor reaches out again, his face shadowed in the barely-lit room as he curls a hand around Miles' shoulder and squeezes, brief and firm.

"I have every faith in you, Miles," he says quietly, hazel eyes glinting in the dim light before he finally pushes off Miles' bunk and returns to his own, releasing Miles to sleep, or not, as he likes.