thisavrou_log | come on, be good [closed]

come on, be good [closed]

Who: Miles and Clark
When: the evening of the 15th
Where: Moro #005
What: Miles comes to apologize to Clark, smooches happen
Warnings: gay

The last few weeks have been a muddled whirlwind of confusion and circular thoughts, Miles' brain working itself into a frenzy chasing its own tail to come to some conclusion. Finally getting it together and talking to Bel helped put a lot of that to rest; at the very least Miles can now identify with the words 'sexual panic'. He feels sort of ridiculous in retrospect, for how long it took him to come around to it. For a man who prides himself on his analytical skills, it's downright embarrassing. But it'd been hard for him regardless, and there's a strange little sense of private triumph over having made it to the other side.

But making things right with Bel doesn't make everything right. There's more he has to answer for than just the awkward, adrenaline-fueled kiss he'd shared with Bel that night. He's spent just as much time thinking about Clark these last few weeks, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't still feeling little flutters of panic over it, because Bel is one thing but Clark -- Clark is different. But he's been avoidant enough, taken damn well enough time, and now that he's mostly got his head right again, it's about damn time he set things straight with Clark, too.

He had, arguably, ended that date -- yeah, alright, date -- with Clark far worse than he had with Bel. Miles and Bel had parted on awkward terms, but at least Miles hadn't all but fled. He still cringes a little to think about what a complete jackass he'd made out of himself. No, he has plenty yet to talk about with Clark. Starting with a frigging apology. And Ivan says he never apologizes.

It's evening when Miles comes by Clark's cabin, hitting the chime on the door. He's hoping Clark'll be alone, but if roommates are about, there are other places they could go to talk. "Hey, Clark? It's Miles. Let me in?"

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It was Valentine's Day yesterday. Clark had only remembered because he'd helped out with the garden party; the ship's calendar was different from the one he'd left behind after all, so he hadn't really thought about the holidays much. He hadn't expected to be here long enough to pass too many. But the fact of the matter is, it's been nearly half a year now, and there's no end to the trip in sight.

Maybe it's wishful thinking, but he'd have liked to spend Valentines Day with Lois. He'd have liked to spend the last few months with her, too, proving that it wasn't all downhill after the first kiss.

They hadn't really gotten to figure out where things stood before he was brought here, but he still feels guilty, like he's betraying her, because as much as he cares about Lois... That didn't stop him from caring about anyone else.

He'd figured he didn't have anything to worry about, as far as romance was concerned, in the case of the few friendships he'd struck up on the ship. For the most part, they weren't that complicated... But then there was Miles, who was practically synonymous with complicated. He kept telling himself it didn't matter if Miles wasn't interested, and it wasn't something he'd considered all that seriously anyway. He'd been pretty content to let things lie the way they were.

Still, Clark had known it was a setup long before Miles seemed to clue in, but he'd gone with it, willfully blind, until it ended spectacularly with Miles taking off. He should have said something sooner. It seems pretty obvious what Miles was dealing with, in retrospect. If he'd known --

"I guess he's not the only one who's not as smart as he thinks he is."

Minerva yawns at him and rolls over to be scratched, deeply unimpressed by this revelation.

They both hear movement in the hall sometime later. Clark isn't normally bothered, but he can pick out Miles' heartbeat the way most people might catch the sound of a familiar name on a crowded street. He abandons the tablet he'd been attempting to read - the door opens before Miles finishes saying his name.

"Hey." He smiles a little and steps aside to let Miles pass. "I thought I'd have to come looking for you."

" -- Oh." Miles blinks, slightly startled, when he barely has a chance to finish that sentence, let alone Clark's name, but he recovers quickly enough. He reddens, letting out a slightly nervous laugh, mostly out of embarrassment. "Hah -- yeah. Sorry, I...should've come by sooner."

He sidles in past Clark, his fingers tapping against his trouser seam in a barely contained fidget. At least he can admit to himself that this makes him just a little nervous, coming to talk to Clark. He can admit a lot of things about himself now.

Miles blows out his breath and looks up at Clark. "Look, the way things went down that night...shouldn't have." He can't help himself -- he starts to pace, unable to keep still, though he keeps on talking -- rapidly. "I, uh... Well, I panicked, and subsequently I acted like a complete jackass. More than the situation really warranted -- and more than you deserved. I shouldn't have just bolted like that. It was a pretty tactless thing to do. I'm sorry."

His gaze drops. "And I'm sorry that took so long. It just...took me a little while to get my head on straight."

"I didn't mean it like... It's okay." Clark rubs the back of his neck and just closes the door after Miles. His roommates aren't usually around at this time of day, so hopefully that's not something they'll have to worry about. Miles isn't the only one feeling nervous, though he's making Clark a little dizzy just watching him pace.

"I don't think getting your head on 'straight' was the problem here." Clark flashes him a brief grin, trying to defuse a little of the awkwardness. He sits heavily on the bed, slouching with his arms resting against his thighs.

"It's okay, Miles, really. I figured it wasn't personal. It's a lot to process - especially when you've been sure of something your whole life." He rubs his thumb absently over the palm of his hand. "And I should have said something to you earlier, when I figured it out. The date thing, I mean. It's just... You seemed like you were having a good time. I didn't want you to think I was trying to -- I don't know. Start anything you weren't interested in."

He ducks his head a little, the tips of his ears going red - embarrassed. "So I'm sorry, too. For not being more upfront."

He sits up a little straighter after that, and inclines his head at Miles. "Have you figured things out?"

Miles huffs out a laugh, if a little self-conscious, at that crack, because Clark is almost uncomfortably on the mark. He won't lie, he's relieved that Clark isn't really mad at him, although he'd be totally justified if he were. Miles bites his lip at Clark's apology, watching his expression, and waves it off with a vague throwaway gesture of his hand.

"You really don't need to apologize, Clark. It wasn't you who set us up, anyway." He's no longer peeved with Eggsy, mostly because it didn't wind up being worth it to be mad at him anyway, and Miles wasn't so mad that he wanted to cut things off with Eggsy. "It wasn't that there was any pressure, Clark, because there wasn't. It was more the, ah -- " Miles clears his throat. "The paradigm shift, so to speak."

He manages to reel in his pacing, coming to a stop in front of Clark. At least like this they're more or less eye-to-eye. "I think so, yes," he finally says with a slight but firm little nod. God knows he'd taken his time coming around to it. His mouth tilts in an ironic smile. "You'll probably get a kick from the I-told-you-so alone, but, ah -- turns out there was a lot for Bel and I to talk about. That recon mission didn't exactly go as planned, and... Well. Rest assured, it took me nearly as much time to get my head together on that one, but...things are better now."

He smiles faintly, hands slipping into his pockets. "I thought I knew myself well enough to know why I kept shying away from Bel Thorne -- I mean, after eight years, you'd think... Some of it was self-loathing, I think, but when you look like I do..."

He shrugs, a mere acknowledgment of fact, because he's always been self-conscious in that regard. "I don't know if this is something really new for me, or if it's something I just didn't recognize until now -- well, you know." He cracks a grin, only slightly self-conscious. "Paradigm shift and all that."

"Yeah, well. Eggsy is a good kid, I'm sure he meant well." He hopes Miles went easy on him, to be honest. It wasn't the best thing to do, but good intentions have to count for something.

He's glad, though, that Miles isn't taking this too harshly. He wouldn't have been surprised if he'd pushed harder against it, or said something harsh out of anger or fear. Barrayar isn't the only place that has somewhat conservative ideas about relationships. But that's one of the remarkable things about Miles - for all that he's deeply entwined with Barrayar, he's very much his own person, too.

What mistakes he makes, he's always apologized for. He'd accepted Clark's strangeness as readily as he might accept anyone else's. It seems like the person he's harshest with has always been himself.

When Miles finally comes to a stop, Clark meets his eyes. He smiles, bright and unreserved, when Miles says he's working things out with Bel. "Honestly? I'm just glad things are improving. Bel is obviously important to you, and however it all works out, I'm sure they'll stay that way."

"Just give yourself time, Miles." Clark reaches for his shoulder and gives it a light squeeze. "For the record, the only thing I see when I look at you is an unstoppable force, and I wonder how any body can contain it."

Oh, that is... That is one hell of a something from Clark. It catches Miles off guard with a little jump in his chest that has nothing to do with nerves, a warm echo of his painful last moments in his last life -- You're Miles Naismith Vorkosigan. You can do anything. Everything about that death had stayed with him, every bright, sharp line of it, but somehow, those words stand out in his memory. Miles actually looks momentarily flustered at that, a bit of color rising to his cheeks, and he ducks his head with a soft laugh.

"I, ah -- don't quite know what to say to that," he admits with a twist of his lips. Not something Miles Vorkosigan says often, evidently. "But...thank you."

That hand on his shoulder teases another smile of him, peculiar and a little mysterious. "And I have given myself time. Time, and a lot of thought. And things are a little -- no, they're a lot clearer now. In this regard, anyway. I think I've set myself on the right path." His look turns considering, thoughtful, as his gaze settles on Clark's face again, all diffident traces gone, replaced with that usual resting intensity. He's glad Clark's already sitting, that they can speak eye-to-eye. "I just, ah... I just need to check something."

Miles leans in before his nerves have a chance to stop him, small hands going to brace against Clark's shoulders before one slips up his jaw, and with no hesitation other than a small breath, Miles presses his mouth to Clark's in what is very unmistakably -- or so he hopes -- a kiss.

Clark has the grace to look a little self-conscious about actually saying that aloud, but he doesn't try to take any of it back, or even qualify it - it's the truth.

That smile he gets out of Miles would make it impossible to regret anyway. He's glad they're back on normal footing, or normal enough for them. Miles seems to have worked past the issue, but when his expression changes again, shifting into his usual calm intensity Clark feels his whole body go still. Not tense, just still, waiting like a held breath.

He knows exactly what's happening. He lets Miles reach for him. His fingers are cool where they meet Clark's skin, but Clark leans in the same way he might turn his face up to the sun. He cups his hand near the side of Miles' neck, and closes his eyes, and kisses him.

Clark, for his part, is all easy affection - a little inexperienced, curious, but not particularly shy. The warmth that hits him is a slow burn; it seems to fill his chest, bright and vital. When Miles pulls back he doesn't resist or try to keep him in place, but he doesn't let go, either.

Clark stares at him, speechless, then ducks his head a little and smiles.

Oh, that's good. Better than Miles was expecting -- hoping, even. There were at least a dozen ways in which this could've blown up in his face, but Miles judged every one of them a risk worth taking -- and it somehow paid off all the more. He decides instantly that he likes kissing Clark -- a lot -- it doesn't matter that Clark's just the slightest bit inexperienced, because experience doesn't count nearly as much as enthusiasm. Well, enthusiasm and creativity. His mouth is warm against Miles's, and Miles lets out a soft, contented noise that mostly gets lost between them. When Miles pulls back, he's grinning, his face aglow. Stunning Clark speechless is a nice bonus.

"Ah," Miles says a little breathlessly, eyes all lit up. "Hypothesis confirmed."

The corner of his mouth curves up in an almost idiotic grin, just watching Clark's face, his chest swelling with something so buoyant and warm he's afraid for a moment it might carry him away. Breathing out deeply, Miles tips his forehead against Clark's, his mouth twisting slightly.

"Sorry about all that. For being such a prick about it," he sighs, although the weight of it's gone. A final clearing of the air, one last sorry before he closes the book on it. "A very...confused prick, but still. I'm better now. And I, uh..."

He coughs a little, almost self-conscious. "I like you, Clark. Quite a lot, actually. And..." He drops both hands back to Clark's shoulders, closing his hands loosely around little fistfuls of his shirt. "I could stand to do that again."

Clark matches that grin with a wide one of his own, thoroughly pleased by this 'experiment.' He's been thinking about kissing Miles for longer than he's been willing to admit it, but there's more to it than that. It's good just to be close. The admission seems to strip away at the tension and complication, and Miles is as unreservedly happy as Clark has ever seen him.

That final apology, as far as Clark is concerned, is an unnecessary one - though he does appreciate the gesture. He leans up a little to press a light kiss to Miles' forehead in response, and that's the end of that.

"I don't know what the Scientific Method is like on Barrayar," Clark says, tone even, eyes bright. "But you definitely need to repeat the experiment a few times before you can confirm anything."

He moves his hands down to Miles' waist and pulls him closer effortlessly. The way Miles hands are fisted in Clark's shirt isn't unlike the time they went flying together. It feels a little like that too - a kind of bright, limitless freedom.

They have a lot to talk about, but right now Clark is content to enjoy the moment. He leans in first this time, angling for another kiss. Enthusiasm isn't something he has any shortage of, and Clark is a quick learner, all of those hyperactive senses tuning into Miles until everything around him fades away. If only for a few moments, Miles is the brightest thing in his universe.

Miles flushes slightly in a fleeting moment of uncharacteristic shyness at that kiss to his forehead, but he's still grinning wildly, eyes lit like a live wire when Clark pulls him in by the waist. He takes Clark in with a little swell in his chest -- something warm and heady that he's never really let himself identify before, but damn if it doesn't make him feel giddy. He likes that bright look on Clark's face, likes that he keeps finding new things about Clark every time he looks -- it's the same face he's been seeing for months, but he's seeing it in new light.

"I'm a soldier, not a scientist," Miles concedes, spreading his hands over Clark's chest, smoothing out his shirt in idle exploration. "I'm hardly an expert. I'll happily defer to you on the subject."

Clark's enthusiasm is met with just as much on Miles's part, his hands tightening briefly on Clark's chest before they come back up to his shoulders, cupping his neck. There's nothing shy about the way Miles kisses Clark now, after that preliminary venture, and he leans in close to open his mouth slightly against Clark's on a warm, encouraging little a noise.

It might not have been Clark's intention but, oh, that flush looks good on him. There's something about Miles that's just so incredibly alive that it really does seem barely contained inside him. Not for the first time, Clark wishes he could know what it was that Miles kept folded so close to his chest.

He leans into every touch, entirely without thinking of it. He likes having Miles' hands on him, curious and unafraid. Clark moves his thumb in a slow circle where it rests against Miles' hip. Miles fits easily into the circle of his arms when he leans in for kiss, and Clark wraps his arms around him, holding him nearly flush against his chest.

He's not particularly shy about it either, but he takes his time kissing Miles, open-mouthed and easy. He's definitely enjoying encouraging more of those little noises out of Miles - he could spend hours doing just that. The effort to pull back after a while is obvious, but Clark is nothing if not pure willpower and restraint.

"Okay - at ease, soldier." The soft laugh after the words is born of a sort of giddy lightness in his chest. That's the thing about momentum - it's easy to be swept into it. "We should talk before this experiment gets out of hand."

Clark is warm, Miles remembers that from Caducus Primary and Emiri both -- one of those a much less pleasant memory than the other, and he brushes that aside in favor of focusing on just how nice it is to kiss Clark, how nice those arms are wrapped around his small body. It's not as though Clark is the tallest person Miles has ever kissed -- he barely comes up to Taura's waist, after all -- but there's still a novelty in it. Clark is the novelty, though Miles doesn't think it'll wear off any time soon.

Clark pulls back and Miles, a little cross-eyed, blinks and laughs reflexively in response to Clark, his whole face bright. "Hm?" he says, still momentarily distracted, then opens his mouth. "Oh -- yes. Talking. The other half of this whole business." Because with Miles, it's at least half. He half-grins, idly fingering the collar of Clark's shirt. "What did you have in mind?"

There's something completely disarming about Miles' openly pleased expression. Clark smiles and moves one of his hands to brush his knuckles against the side of Miles' jaw, and run his thumb across the color spreading in his cheeks.

"You look good like this," he says. "Maybe we should have taken those painting classes after all. But... yeah, talking. I guess the question is, what do we want out of this?"

He exhales slowly. "I know we're just starting off here but there's - someone back home. We'd started off, just like this, but then I got dragged halfway across the universe before we ever got to figure things out between us. I don't want this to go the same way."

That idiotic grin hangs on Miles's face for a few moments after Clark's touch, but then it slips off his face entirely, his mouth half-opening in a look of contemplation.

"Ah," he says, and his shoulders drop slightly. His hands still at Clark's shoulders, save for the absent-minded brush of his fingers against the fabric of Clark's shirt. He bites his lip. "Well -- there's someone back home for me, too. Besides Bel, I mean. Actually, more than one, but it's not the sort of arrangement where -- " Miles stops himself, purses his lips.

"But that's not the point," he says, and lets out a breath. "I'd rather it not go that way, either. I can't guarantee against any interdimensional interference, no more than you could, but if you're asking what I want..."

He lets the corner of his mouth curve up slightly, gaze dropping as if in contemplation before his eyes lift back to Clark's face, warmed. "I want whatever I can have, for as long as I can have it."

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come on, be good [closed]

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yeah miles you get that tiddy

he luv the tiddy

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