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remapped-soul · 5 months

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once again with an italian song, this time for charlos

"occhi diversi tutte le sere ma sempre il solito vecchio sorriso" >>> different eyes every single night but always the same old smile

i'm imagining something romantic and cheesy and charles' eyes changing with the light :)

once again, im so sorry how late this is. i had an idea for this ever since you sent me the ask but only now found the energy to write. i hope you like it <3 I tried making it cheesy and romantic. what's for sure, charles' eyes are definitely changing hehe. your prompts have been amazing and I had so much fun writing them

this is a companion piece to my charlos demon au. read it here

tw: mention of the lv incident, and charles is angry about it, but nothing too graphic.

This year was supposed to be different. This year was supposed to be their year. Prayers on his lips, the devil by his side, Carlos was supposed to win this year. Instead, he's barely scrapping in the top 5 as it is. To say he is frustrated is an understatement.

"I thought a deal with the devil meant glory," Carlos says the night after the race in Melbourne. "I thought the car would be strong. I thought--" the voice catches in his throat "--I thought I'd be strong."

Charles is motionless next to him, eyes a blue so dark and deep, no shadow disturbs them. Carlos is a little afraid to look at him.

"It will come." Charles presses his mouth against Carlos' shoulder, heat sipping through the shirt. He inhales, long and deep. He's just like a dog sometimes, Carlos thinks, a little amused, a little fond. Protective and possessive.

"Easy for you to talk." Carlos shakes Charles off. The artificial light of the hotel room slants in his eyes, and for a second, Charles' irises are not deep blue, but milky white. Carlos' heart seizes in his chest. He blinks. Charles' eyes are back to normal. "You were Senna in the past life."

Charles rolls his eyes. "I made a deal with you, not with Ferrari. I can't help them if they're not ready to pay the price."

"And I am? Paying the price?"

Charles smiles, crooked, lopsided, dimples popping, and kisses him into quietness.

It gets better until it doesn't and Carlos has to retire his car in Spa halfway in. It's Charles' turn to be on the podium, and Carlos is so angry he can barely stand to look at him.

"It's just a third place, Carlos. Nothing to stress over."

They go back to the hotel right after Charles finished his media duties, and Carlos wants nothing more than to be alone. He thinks slamming the door would have gotten the message across, but when he turns around, Charles is already there, by the bed, waiting, hands in his pockets, eyes a dull grey.

"A third place and three championships," Carlos sneers now, looking over Charles' shoulder. He can't stand the look in his eyes. "Nothing to stress over."

Charles sighs, exasperated. "I existed before you, Carlos. I will exist after you. My life now is nothing but a moment, painted in a different color. I don't choose my lives, the same way you didn't choose to be bound to me. If I could, I'd always be a king, a winner, but my life is defined by the contracts I make the same way yours is defined by things outside of your control." Charles stops, an angry breath hissing through his clenched teeth. He doesn't talk about his life, his existence as a being outside of the human realm, if he can help it. "You know what you got to do if you wish to never see me again."

Carlos finally looks at Charles. His eyes shine like marble in sunlight. Outside is dark, a starless night.

"And if I do? Will the old Charles be back?" Carlos still remembers the days before he made his pact. The sweet Charles, the shy Charles. The one that blushed around Sebastian Vettel.

"You drivers always think you're so different from one another, but you're all the same." The Charles in front of him gives him a sad smile. "There is no old Charles. It's always been me."

Carlos suddenly feels nauseous. He stares at Charles, at his eyes, at the grey melting into blue. "I think…I think I need to be alone." A pause. "Please."

Charles tilts his head to the side, watching Carlos. Carlos blinks. Charles is gone.

Later, they will be fine, as fine as a demon and human can be. They will fall into bed again, and Charles will let Carlos touch him, slide into him raw, make love to him. Charles will let Carlos wrap his hands around his throat, kiss him breathless, mark him. Charles will let Carlos believe he has power, and Carlos will let it happen, accept it. He will accept anything, everything as long as he gets to enjoy this for a little while longer.

The win in Singapore comes with a bang, and Carlos doesn't have time to think if Charles gave him this only to appease him. He is yelling over the coms, yelling as he gets out of the car, as he embraces the team. He sings every word of Fratelli d’Italia up on the podium. Fred pours champagne over his head, down his overalls. Carlos accepts everything with the biggest smile on his face. He won. He won for Ferrari. With Ferrari.

A tiny voice in his head tells him, you won before Charles this year, before Il Predestinato. It's delightfully mean. Carlos shoves it back where it came from.

He doesn't spot Charles anywhere until after his press conference, when Carlos is pulled into a desolate room, a hand on his mouth to silence him and a cheeky smile greeting him in the dark.

"Hi, champion."

Carlos grins against the fingers. "Hi back," he mumbles, pulling Charles into him by the waist.

Charles' eyes are a kaleidoscope of red-pink-purple, a sunset trapped in his irises. "My beautiful champion," he says and then he kisses Carlos hard on the mouth. Carlos parts his knees, Charles steps closer, pushes his hands underneath Carlos's shirt, fingers on his stomach, skin against skin. Carlos shudders.

"Bebe," Carlos mutters as Charles kisses down his neck. "Not here. Hgmm." Charles bites at a particular sensitive spot on Carlos' neck. "We don't have time."

Charles' eyes glimmer as he looks up at Carlos. "Is that a challenge?" He asks and drops to his knees before Carlos can get a word in.

Ten minutes later they're sliding into their chairs as the debrief starts, and if Carlos fixes his pants and Charles wipes the corner of his mouth, no one bats an eyelash. After all, they were only a few minutes late. No one scolds a Ferrari champion.

The manhole blows up underneath Carlos' car in Las Vegas. It brings the first practice to an end and rules him out of the second one. Because of the damage, he will most likely get a penalty on Sunday. It’s a mess. Charles is fuming.

Carlos watches as Charles paces the length of his hotel room, threat dripping from his tongue like a thunderstorm, and he speaks in French and sometimes in Spanish. Other times in languages that are not familiar at all. Carlos would laugh about it, would pull Charles into his arms, tell him not to worry, kiss the frown off his face. He’d do that and more if it weren’t for the shackles shining bloody red around Charles’ neck, around his wrists, eyes matching as they flare up with every new word.

Charles’ threats are not something to laugh at. They’re real, and if Carlos doesn’t do anything about it, Charles will level the city.

“It’s what they deserve,” Charles spits. “If there is something the humans have been constant about- it's money. It’s always about money. They’d risk everything for it. I should cut their fingers off, one by one. Make them choke on money. Teach them the consequence of greed.”

Carlos sighs. He doesn’t think too much about it and grabs Charles by the arm, pulling him into his lap.

“Cariño,” Carlos soothes, pressing a kiss underneath Charles’ right eye. He puts his fingers on Charles’ neck and doesn’t think about how it burns. “You’re older than mankind. Why are you still surprised?”

Charles growls low in his throat. “They messed with what’s mine.” Surprise and pleasure zip up Carlos’ spine. He drops his hands around Charles’ shoulders, pushes and pulls until Charles gives in and melts against his chest. “I am fine, really. I am here, aren’t I?”

Charles huffs. He grips the hem of Carlos’ shirt and presses his cold nose against Carlos’ neck.

“You could’ve lost your legs,” he mumbles.

“Not for long,” Carlos says as he draws lines on Charles’ back. Up and down, left to right, as soothing as he can make them. “I have you.”

“Yes,” Charles relents, finally, fight going out of him all at once, shackles fading until they leave only unmarred skin behind. “Yes, you do.”

He presses a kiss under Carlos’ ear. If Carlos senses a hit of teeth, too sharp to be human, he doesn’t mention it.

“Will you leave the city and its people alone?”

Charles smiles against his neck. “For now. For you. They owe you a life debt.”

“Yes, yes, my fearless demon,” Carlos says and then tightens his hold and flips them on the bed, Carlos on top, Charles splayed underneath him. For the next several hours Carlos makes sure Charles doesn’t have time to think about decimating the world. Charles lets him.

A pact with the devil is not so bad after all.

#luna.writes #charlos #charlos demon au #charles leclerc #carlos sainz #f1 rpf #f1 fanfic #my stories #part 2 is here and it's not edited and im not sure it makes sense but I had fun writing this #i hope you like

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goforth-ladymidnight · 3 months

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Ch. 8

@praetorqueenreyna @thrumbolt @taymartiart @northern-star-polaris (Would anyone else like to be added to the tag list? Or removed? Let me know!)

Pairing: Tamlin x Lucien

Word Count. 4.1k

Summary: Lucien meets someone from Tamlin's past, and the tree decorating party begins

Note: Content warning - mild homophobia

Read now on AO3, or keep reading below the cut:

Even though it was the middle of December, there were still plenty of Christmas trees to choose from, at least in this particular lot. The owners had chosen the ideal location; it was across the street from an outdoor ice skating rink, where tinny but jolly Christmas music was playing through loudspeakers. On a crisp winter morning like this one, with fresh snow and nowhere important to be, it was the sort of place where couples and families could spend hours skating and drinking coffee and hot chocolate, and then sample anything from muffins to pretzels to sandwiches from the nearby food vendors before taking home a fresh Christmas tree as a souvenir.

Lucien hadn’t been able to convince Tamlin to try skating—yet—but as soon as they were done shopping, he had his eye on a hot coffee and a fresh grilled cheese.

But first, the tree.

There was one he kept circling back to, a large, rounded Illyrian Pine with the perfect point on top. It wasn’t the biggest tree on the lot, but he liked it just the same. To check it, he rubbed a pine bough between his fingers. The needles were fragrant and spicy, and the twigs supple.

“What do you think of this one?” he asked Tamlin, who was looking over a smaller tree on the next row.

Tamlin glanced up, and then up again, and he frowned. “I don’t know. It’s kind of big…” He nodded to Lucien’s convertible. “How do you expect us to get it home?”

Home. The word sent a little thrill through him, even though nothing was official between them. Yet. Lucien smiled. “I was thinking of having it delivered,” he remarked, then asked the tree lot attendant hovering nearby. “You do deliver, don’t you?”

“For a price, but yes,” the attendant agreed in an Illyrian accent. “And only at the end of the day.”

“That’s okay,” Lucien said. “We have some more shopping to do anyway.”

Tamlin stopped circling the tree to look up in surprise. “We do?” he asked.

“Sure we do,” Lucien said as the attendant took the tag off the tree and left to go get the paperwork. “I still have to buy you a gift.”

Tamlin gave him a shy smile. “You don’t have to get me anything. You’re already buying a tree…”

“Saying that only makes me want to buy you something more,” Lucien teased in a sing-song voice. “‘Tis the season to be spend-y. What do you say?”

“I’ll be damned,” a deep voice said behind them.

Lucien turned in time to see Tamlin’s expression change from mild curiosity to something like fear.

“What…? Arth-hnn—!” was all Tamlin said before someone pulled him into a headlock.

Lucien fell back a step, startled. “Whoa. Hey,” he told the stranger with some reproach.

To his surprise, the stranger grinned at him, and Lucien gawked as he realized he recognized the man. It was Tamlin, but with blue eyes and short hair and a stockier build.

“Relax. It’s just my kid brother,” the man said, keeping his beefy arm around Tamlin’s neck.

Tamlin for his part, was red in the face, and grimacing as he tapped his brother’s arm to no avail.

Lucien winced. “You can let him go now,” he said firmly.

“Yeah, sure. Okay,” the man agreed lightly, but ruffled Tamlin’s hair first before letting him go.

Tamlin wheezed as he fell back and massaged his throat. “Shit,” he rasped.

Lucien reached out and patted his back in a soothing way. “You okay?” he asked softly.

Tamlin took a deep breath and nodded.

“Sorry to sneak up on you like that,” the man said, though his smile made it seem like he wasn’t sorry at all. “I just noticed you across the street, and I thought…” He paused and gestured between the two of them. “How exactly do you two know each other?”

To spare Tamlin’s voice—among other things—Lucien answered for him. “We were roommates back in college,” he said evenly. “You do the math.”

“Ah. Roommates,” the man said with an exaggerated wink. “Got it.”

Lucien didn’t even pretend to smile. If he didn’t like this guy before, he liked him even less now.

Tamlin cleared his throat and smoothed back his hair. “Lu, this is my older brother Arthur.” He coughed again. “Arthur, this is Lucien.”

Lucien reluctantly shook Arthur’s outstretched hand. “Hey,” was all he could muster in greeting.

“Hey,” Arthur said back. “Just so you know, my dad calls me Arthur. My friends call me Wart.”

Lucien dropped his hand and mustered a tight smile. “Just your friends?”

“Ha. Funny,” Arthur said wryly, then turned his attention to Tamlin. “Hey, so… Sorry, again, for the sneak attack,” he said with a shameless grin. “But once I knew it was you, I just couldn’t help myself. Just like old times. Right, Tampon?” he asked, then playfully punched his brother’s arm.

Lucien frowned as Tamlin rubbed his arm and looked away. “Excuse me? Tampon?”

“It was stupid kid stuff,” Tamlin cut in, blushing.

“You know how kids are,” Arthur said playfully, then asked Lucien, “You got brothers?”

“Yeah,” Lucien said slowly.

“Yeah, so you get it,” Arthur began, ignoring Lucien’s glare. “So, our mom was really into classic literature, and we ended up with a Peter Pan, a King Arthur, and a Tam Lin in the same family. The jokes just write themselves. Don’t they, Tampon?” he said with another ‘friendly’ punch in the arm.

Tamlin winced and hugged his arm, and kept his gaze averted. “I guess,” he said quietly.

Lucien frowned. “Well, it was nice to meet you, Arthur,” he lied politely, “but Tamlin and I have plans, so…”

Arthur’s easy grin faded. “Don’t you want to meet the wife and kids?” he asked Tamlin.

Tamlin straightened up and stared at him. “You’re married?”

“Yeah. Maybe if you called once in a while, you’d know that.”

Tamlin’s jaw tightened as he slowly shook his head. “I couldn’t.”

“Why not? Did you break your fingers, or—Wait. Wait one goddamn second.” Arthur slowly wagged his finger. “Is this because of the funeral?”

Tamlin’s face flushed, and Lucien thought he could see tears in his eyes. “Partly.”

Arthur scoffed, then held up his hand in Lucien’s direction. “Excuse us for a second,” he said with a strained, cold smile, then turned his frown on Tamlin. “You’re the one who insisted on playing that stupid song when you know damn well that’s not what she wanted,” he hissed.

“You mean that’s not what Dad wanted,” Tamlin hissed back. “It was Mom’s favorite song. I was just trying to do something nice—”

“By making her funeral all about yourself,” Arthur sneered. “Real nice.”

“I wasn’t…” Tamlin’s throat bobbed, and as he looked away, Lucien decided to intervene.

“Hey,” he told Arthur coolly. “It’s not showing off if he was playing for her. Maybe you should back off on the guilt trip, huh?”

“Maybe you should mind your own business.”

“Leave him alone, Arthur,” Tamlin said sternly, then sniffed. “How did you find me, anyway?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Arthur scoffed. “I wasn’t looking. It’s not my fault you happened to show up where I take my kids ice skating every year.”

Tamlin’s eyes widened, then he glanced across the street, as if searching for them.

“Mom used to take us ice skating,” he said softly. Lucien’s heart went out to him.

“Yeah,” Arthur muttered. “Some of us still like to honor her memory by upholding her family traditions. Imagine that.”

Tamlin looked like he was on the verge of tears. Each of his brother’s blows was lower than the last. This wasn’t as bad as when he admitted he had been raped by the dean, but it was damn close.

Lucien bristled on his behalf. “Hey. Maybe he’s making his own traditions,” he told Arthur coolly.

Arthur scoffed. “Like what? Picking out a tree with his little boyfriend?” he said with a sneer.

Lucien knew he meant it as an insult, but before he could think of a safe retort, Tamlin spoke up.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, then nodded firmly. “Like picking out a tree with my boyfriend.”

Lucien’s heart grew three sizes in an instant.

“You know Dad would whip your ass for joking around like that,” Arthur warned.

“Dad’s not here,” Tamlin said coldly, “and I’m not joking.” His voice only quivered a little bit. Lucien had never felt so proud in his entire life.

Arthur snorted, then looked between the two of them with a skeptical sneer. Jerking his thumb at Lucien, he asked, “Him? Your boyfriend? Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” Tamlin said more confidently, crossing his arms. “We are serious. What of it?”

Lucien smirked at Arthur, almost too proud to speak.

Arthur’s eyes narrowed as his gaze flicked between the two of them. “This is a prank,” he said with a vague, disbelieving smile.

“Oh, no,” Lucien said lightly. “This is no prank.”

He took advantage of Arthur’s stunned silence to reach out and lay his hand on Tamlin’s bicep. Giving it a reassuring squeeze, he carefully stepped behind him to wrap his other arm around Tamlin’s shoulders. It was a much gentler version of the same headlock Arthur had used.

Resting his chin on Tamlin’s shoulder, he remarked, “I know it may be difficult to comprehend, but some men actually enjoy wrestling other men.” He smiled and patted Tamlin’s chest. “And then cuddling afterwards.”

He couldn’t see the look on Tamlin’s face, but the look on Arthur’s face was priceless: It was halfway between disgust and incredulity.

“Ha,” Arthur said weakly, then blinked hard as he looked away. “Oh my god…”

While he was distracted, Lucien took a moment to whisper in Tamlin’s ear, “You okay?”

Tamlin reached up and covered Lucien’s hand with his own. “Yeah,” he whispered back. “Thanks.”

Lucien gave him a gentle squeeze in answer, then realized that Arthur was staring at them.

“Hey.” Arthur jerked his thumb across the street. “You know there are kids present, right?”

As far as Lucien could tell, the only one paying them any mind was Arthur.

“Relax,” Lucien said, mimicking his earlier tone. “We’re hugging, not demonstrating. You should try it sometime.”

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, because Arthur spread his hands wide and took a step back. “Hey. I’m straight as an arrow. Thanks.”

Lucien narrowly resisted the urge to roll his eyes. That wasn’t what he meant—at all—but it gave him the chance to annoy Arthur further. “Your loss,” he said, then lightly kissed Tamlin’s shoulder.

Arthur made a noise of disgust.

Before anyone could speak again, the tree lot attendant returned with a clipboard. “Can I help you?” he asked Arthur.

Arthur shook his head and waved dismissively in their direction. “I don’t need any. But they do.”

That was—unfortunately—true, because Lucien had to fill out the paperwork to have their tree delivered later that afternoon. So, it was with some reluctance that he released his hold on Tamlin to accept the proffered clipboard.

As he quickly filled out the necessary information, Arthur took advantage of his distraction to take Tamlin aside.

“I can’t believe you’re okay with this.”

Tamlin shrugged off his brother’s hand on his shoulder. “I’d say I can’t believe you, either, but I’d be lying. You’re just like Dad.”

“Hey.” Arthur pointed at him. “Dad did the best he could to straighten us out after Mom died. She let us get away with a lot of shit, you know?” He shook his head in disgust. “I don’t even know what I’m going to tell Dad about you and Red over there—”

Lucien looked up and glared, but Tamlin said what he was already thinking.

“So, don’t. It’s none of his business. Lu and I are dating. Get over it.”

Arthur scoffed, then crossed his arms. “Wow. I guess Pete wasn’t wrong when he decided to call you Tampon, Tampon.”

Lucien growled in the back of his throat, but the only one who heard him was the poor tree lot attendant, who looked like he would prefer to be anywhere else.

“Knock it off, Arthur,” Tamlin said coldly. “You hated your nickname as much as I hated mine. Pete was an ass, but now you’re just being a dick.”

Lucien bit his lips to smother his laugh. When he looked up again, Arthur was staring at Tamlin. Hard.

“Yeah, well, at least I know what to do with mine,” Arthur said coolly. “And it doesn’t involve shoving it up another man’s shithole for fun.”

Lucien clicked the pen closed and handed the clipboard back. “We’re done,” he told the attendant loudly. “We’re done,” he repeated, stepping closer to touch Tamlin’s arm. “Come on, Tam.”

Tamlin, however, stayed where he was.

Arthur chuckled rudely. “Aren’t you going to listen to your little boyfriend?” he said mockingly. “Or maybe you’re going to try to put me in my place like a real man.” He assumed a wrestler’s stance. “Huh? Huh? What’s it gonna be, Tampon?”

Tamlin’s face was flushed, and his jaw was tight as he stared his older brother down. “Goodbye, Arthur,” was all he said before he took Lucien’s arm and led him away.

Arthur snorted, but did not try to follow. “Wow. That’s it?” he called after them. “Seriously?”

Lucien would have gladly turned around and told him off, but instead he looked to Tamlin for guidance.

Tamlin closed his eyes and whispered under his breath, in rapid succession, “Let it go. Let it go. Let it go.”

Lucien gently squeezed his arm. “You did great,” he murmured. “I’ve never been so turned on in my entire life.”

Tamlin breathed a laugh, then swallowed hard, looking pale. “I think—I think I’m gonna pass out.”

“Wait until we get to the car,” Lucien urged. Luckily they had snagged a parking spot right next to the Christmas tree lot, so he didn’t have to call someone else for help in case Tamlin actually did faint.

When Tamlin was safely lowered into the passenger seat and holding his head between his knees, Lucien dared a look back to where Arthur had been standing. There was no sign of him.

“Is he gone?” Tamlin asked weakly.

“Yeah,” Lucien muttered, looking around. “And good riddance.”

Tamlin only sighed in answer, and ran a hand over his hair.

Lucien knelt in front of Tamlin and said gently, “I’m really proud of you, you know.”

“For what?” Tamlin looked up and slowly rubbed the back of his neck. “Not fainting?”

Lucien let out an incredulous laugh. “For standing up to that absolute asshole,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re amazing. I have an amazing boyfriend.”

Some of the color returned to Tamlin’s cheeks as he smiled shyly. “You heard that, huh?”

“Are you kidding? How could I miss it?”

Tamlin chuckled and slowly rubbed his neck. “I don’t know. Everything’s kind of a blur, so…”

Lucien was seized with a sudden thought. “Maybe this will help,” he said, then took Tamlin’s face between his hands and kissed him.

When they parted, Tamlin’s eyes were so wide the whites were showing.

Lucien slowly licked his lips, tasting Tamlin’s kiss. “Did that help?” he asked slowly.

Tamlin blinked and let out an amazed chuckle. “I don’t know,” he said softly, then slowly grinned. “Maybe we should try again.”

Lucien matched his grin, then leaned in and kissed him fiercely.

* * *

The penthouse doorbell had a pleasant, musical quality as it chimed promptly at seven o’clock.

Tamlin stayed by the tree, unraveling a package of white string lights while Lucien went to the door.

“Hey,” Jurian told Lucien in greeting. “I have a, uh… poinsettia. For you. Here.”

“Oh… Thanks,” Lucien said politely, accepting the potted holiday plant. “We were just getting started, so come on in. Make yourself at home,” he added, closing the door behind him.

Jurian whistled as he stepped inside and looked around. “Nice place you’ve got,” he remarked, shrugging off his coat. “I bet you can see every…” He stopped and stared at Tamlin. “What in God’s Name are you wearing.”

Tamlin gave him a shy smile and shrugged. It made the tiny bells jingle on his reindeer antlers. “Lu’s idea,” he explained, then nodded at the gift bags lined up on the couch. “There’s a Santa hat for you in there somewhere.”

Jurian smiled tightly and draped his long coat over the arm of the couch. “No, thanks,” he said politely. “I don’t do dress-up.”

Vassa came out of the bathroom then, rubbing lotion on her hands. She was wearing a striped elfin stocking cap with a bright green jagged brim and a bell on the tail. When she caught sight of Jurian, she grinned. “Oh, Juri!” she exclaimed, then jingled as she trotted forward to greet him.

Jurian startled as he looked her over, but managed nothing more than a: ‘Oh, hey… you,’ before she threw her arms around his neck and made him fall back a step.

Tamlin exchanged an embarrassed smile with Lucien as they glanced away from Vassa’s enthusiastic, and rather amorous, greeting.

“Cider?” Lucien asked politely, already turning for the kitchen.

“Yes, please,” Tamlin said desperately.

There was a faint smudge of lipstick on Jurian’s mouth when Vassa finally lowered herself down from tiptoe. She smiled as she rubbed at it with her thumb, then fondly tweaked his chin, murmuring some kind of sweet-nothing in Scythian, no doubt.

Jurian’s answering smile was surprisingly genuine, though. “Yeah. Me, too,” he murmured fondly, then cleared his throat when he noticed Tamlin looking. “So,” he said loudly to no one in particular. “What’s first?”

Vassa answered by pulling the Santa hat out from its bag. “Here. You wear this,” she declared happily.

Jurian stared at it with a wincing smile, then reluctantly accepted it. “All right. Sure.”

“It was that or an ugly sweater,” Tamlin called out.

Jurian tried to straighten the fluffy brim as Vassa smoothed back his hair. “How ugly?” he asked as Lucien walked out of the kitchen.

As he looked over Lucien’s candy cane-striped sweater with a Christmas tree in the center, he let out a simple, understanding: “Oh.”

Lucien paused, his hands full with mugs of steaming cider. “You like it?” he asked with a smirk. “Tam’s idea.”

“I mean, I wasn’t going to say anything,” Jurian muttered, then turned pink as Vassa tickled his nose with the fluffy end of his hat.

Tamlin chuckled as Lucien drew near. “I didn’t think you’d actually go for it,” he remarked, and draped the unraveled lights over his shoulder to accept the proffered mug. “We could have been matching reindeer.”

Lucien smirked. “I don’t know about that. You make a very handsome Rudolph,” he said, reaching up to straighten the headband. His fingers trailed down Tamlin’s hair as he sang softly under his breath, “Won’t you guide my sleigh tonight?” He was still smirking as he raised his eyebrows in a meaningful way and took a slow sip of cider.

Tamlin felt his face turn as red as Rudolph’s nose, especially when he noticed Jurian watching them.

“So,” Tamlin said loudly. “Jurian. How’s the weather out there, anyway?”

“I don’t know,” Jurian said with a shrug. “It was getting pretty foggy when I last checked. Rudolph.”

Tamlin blushed again.

Lucien chuckled and set his mug down on the coffee table. “Okay. We’ve got lights, ribbons, and ornaments. Who wants what?”

“Ooh! Ribbons for me,” Vassa said eagerly, and rushed forward to claim the first roll of golden, sparkling, wired ribbon.

“I’ll help Tam with the lights,” Jurian offered, much to Tamlin’s surprise.

“Oh. Okay,” Lucien said, hiding his disappointment well. “I’ll unbox the ornaments, then.”

As Jurian picked up a box of string lights to examine it, he remarked, “Say, Lu—” which earned him a raised eyebrow, “—could I get a mug of, uh, whatever that stuff is, from the kitchen?”

“Oh… Yeah, of course,” Lucien said slowly, then asked Vassa, “Would you like something?”

She nodded, already unspooling yards of ribbon. “The same as Juri.”

When Lucien had gone, Jurian stepped closer to Tamlin.

“So…” he began in a low voice, pretending to examine the box of lights. “I couldn’t help but notice that your friend back there is getting a little flirty with you…”

Tamlin’s eyebrows shot up.

“Are you comfortable with that?” Jurian looked at him sidelong. “I mean, do you want me to tell him to back off? Because I can.”

Tamlin breathed a shy laugh. “No, it’s okay. You don’t have to do that…”

“I mean it. I know he’s your friend, but if you’re not comfortable, I’ll tell him.”

Tamlin searched Jurian’s expression for a glimmer of disapproval, a hint of disgust, or a sign of disdain… Unlike his brother’s contemptuous sneer that morning, there was nothing in Jurian’s eyes but genuine concern.

Tamlin sighed. “I appreciate you looking out for me, but it’s fine,” he insisted, lifting his mug for a warm, cinnamon-y sip. “We… have an understanding.”

Jurian cocked an eyebrow. “An understanding? About what?”

Tamlin licked his lips and considered his answer carefully. He and Lucien had discussed it after their confrontation with Arthur, and they had both agreed that Tamlin didn’t have to come out to anyone else unless he felt safe enough to do so.

Tamlin took a deep breath as he came to a decision. “We’re… going out. Actually.”

“Going out?” Jurian repeated, straightening up. “Really.”

“Who is going out?” Vassa repeated in her strong accent. She paused her unspooling, then looked between the two of them. “You are leaving? So soon?” she asked, sounding disappointed.

Tamlin chuckled shyly and rubbed the back of his neck, unsure how to explain. Jurian was his friend, but Vassa was almost a stranger. And their mark, besides. This was getting complicated.

Thankfully, Jurian stepped in. He said something in Scythian, then translated, “In Prythian, to go out means to date. Tamlin and Lucien are dating now.” As Vassa gasped, he turned to Tamlin. “Is that right?”

Tamlin lowered his hand to cradle his mug. His hands were almost shaking. “Yeah…” He swallowed. “Is that… okay?”

Jurian gave him a kind half-smile. “Of course it’s okay. Why wouldn’t it be?”

Tamlin’s throat was too tight with emotion to answer, so he just smiled.

Lucien walked back into the living room carrying two more steaming mugs. “Here we are…” He paused and looked between them. “What did I miss?”

Vassa clapped her hands. “You and Tam-leen,” she declared happily. “You are going now, yes?”

Lucien’s brow furrowed. “Going…?” He trailed off, then met Tamlin’s gaze with sudden understanding. “Oh, you told them?”

“It sort of… came out,” Tamlin said shyly, almost weak with relief.

Lucien smirked, but not unkindly. “Was it easier the second time?”

Tamlin blushed and dropped his gaze. “A little bit, yeah,” he said, smiling shyly as his antlers jingled.

Lucien’s eyes sparkled as he met his gaze. “Well, I’m sorry I missed it.”

“You can be there for the next one.”

Lucien chuckled, then stepped closer to brush a kiss against Tamlin’s cheek. “At least now I can kiss you whenever I feel like it,” he teased, then turned to give Vassa and Jurian their mugs of cider.

Tamlin touched the warm spot on his cheek. It seemed like a dream. But the best kind of dream. The kind he never wanted to wake from.

As Vassa accepted her drink, she thanked Lucien in Scythian, or at least that’s what it sounded like to Tamlin’s untrained ears. After Jurian accepted his mug, Vassa slipped her free hand around Jurian’s waist. “We are going, too, yes?” she asked him with a smile.

Tamlin and Jurian exchanged brief, but concerned, glances.

Are you going to end it with her? Tamlin had asked him that morning.

I don’t know yet, was Jurian’s answer.

The crease between Jurian’s brow softened as he smiled at her. “We are going together. Da,” he agreed by clinking his mug against hers, then said something else in Scythian before brushing a kiss against her forehead. She beamed.

Not wanting to spoil their little moment, Tamlin waited for Lucien to step closer. “What did he say to her?” he asked Lucien softly.

Lucien looked thoughtful as he smiled. “I think he said: ‘As long as you wish, my Princess’. That’s kind of sweet, huh?”

“Yeah,” Tamlin murmured as he watched Jurian slide his arm around her shoulders before taking a sip from his mug.

“He really cares for her, doesn’t he?”

Jurian noticed Tamlin watching, then gave him a soft, understanding nod.

Tamlin smiled. “Yeah,” he agreed quietly. “He really does.”

#i've been fighting a cold this week #so i didn't get the chapter done as quickly as i'd hoped #it was going to be longer too #but rather than have you wait longer #i decided to post what i have #i hope you like #tamcien #tamlin x lucien #lucien x tamlin #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #my writing #my fanfiction

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