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[ Of course he's happy.

Something hitches in his throat and he stands from the bed, sudden as anything. He actually said it? He actually said it. Feelings. There's no restraining that stupid, stupid dopey grin on Odin's face anymore, and he wipes at his lip to ease the ache he left from biting into it so hard. Fuck, he was already starting to smile a little too widely when Peter started whining about how this is just so embarrassing but now it's out there and it's-- it's his, this is his, this memory is his, this moment is his, Odin has this. ]

Peter.

[ He throws the name out before he even thinks through what he wants to say, and he grips the front of his hoodie with both hands, twisting the cotton. All of this rings somewhere in his head - Peter's always been the first person he's gone to, always been his best friend - and he gets the jealousy, gets the nervousness. He never really knew what he wanted from this show, and Peter always told him to just have fun, but the funnest moments he's had on this island have all been with him. ]

You-- I.

[ He looks at him for help, suddenly speechless and struggling to vocalize his thoughts. This isn't like him, but-- on the other hand, it totally fucking is? Always failing at the last minute, always doing the wrong thing, always stumbling over the parts that matter. He's starting to feel himself get crushed under the weight of all that disappointment he has in himself, and he twists his fists in his hoodie even tighter to get through it.

He takes a deep breath and dives into this. Dives off that cliff, ready to drown in open waters. ]

I don't want us to stay the same.

[ There's so much he wants to say, and he tries to, tripping over ums and uhs that pour from him as he hastens to explain. He gets angry and pulls on the hem of his hoodie, finding a loose thread and tearing it out so he can fidget with it in his hands, pulling it and breaking it and wrapping it around his fingers. God. ]

I don't want us to just be friends. I don't want us to stay the same if staying the same means we're... friends. Because. Feelings. Feel. I feel. I also them. Those.

[ ... ]

I mean-- it's-- fuck. I have feelings for you? And, like. I was fine with it? I was fine with just thinking, like, hey, it's okay that I've got a thing for someone who won't ever have a thing for me back, because it's just nice that I'm capable of-- of having that. I didn't think I would. Ever. After Poe. And.

And I do. For you. So I want... not... same... staying.

[ a pause. ]

Oh, and I won't date other people. Sorry. I should have started with that.

[Peter stands still. Stiller than he's ever stood before in his life, like a few words from Odin have turned him to stone while he processes them. His eyes blink open and the ceiling is there to greet him, as well as a crink in the neck as he slowly lowers his chin to straighten up and look at Odin. Odin who's gotten to his feet. Odin who's standing in front of him, saying much smarter things than Peter did - but also Odin who is giving Peter pause.]

You - You had a thing for me? [There's no doubt that the look on Peter's face reflects just how much he is caught off guard by this revelation, brows furrowing and gaze briefly deflecting. It is, of course, relieving to hear but still puzzling because since when do people have things for him? He lucked into a relationship with Jean and he's feeling like he lucked out here without rejection from Odin. But. Wow? He feels a flutter in his chest and just sort of rubs over his sternum, tangling his fingers up in his tie.

Poe's name is a bit acidic but Peter's swept away by a half dozen other emotions and doesn't dwell on it, even if seeing Poe the other day was a prickling push toward this too. Poe's a whole topic to look at later, something he doesn't even want to begin to sort through now. Peter loses his words now, shaping a few but falling into silence because he's still a little side swept.

He has to ask:] Since when?

[But then he thinks better of it, rubbing his face and feeling the heat in his cheeks as he carries on talking instead of waiting for an answer. He lets out a half laugh, embarrassed but happy and feeling a bit stupid too. He's felt stupid all day, that won't let up for a while.]

God. I'm stupid - Sorry, I just. I didn't know? Which is kinda ir- is... wait, hold on. Is that why you asked me if I would've been on your show? [Peter's brain is slamming on the brakes now, finally able to gather some of the conversations that made him feel quote unquote "weird" but seeing them in a whole new light. Jesus fucking Christ, no wonder. He loses the nervousness again, distracted by the sense of realization and stepping almost excited towards Odin.]

Dude, that conversation was one of the - the reasons I started to think...

[ It's kind of Peter to think, on whatever level, that so I want not same staying is an intelligent thing to say. Odin's steadily gaining more and more confidence from this, even if the way Peter stumbles at the revelation makes the butterflies in his stomach flutter more urgently than they already had been. He watches Peter's hands, watches the way they get lost in that tie, and he clenches his teeth, going red. Fuck.

He pulls on the drawstrings of his hood, dragging the lengths out from one side to the other, and he needs a little while to answer the question, which-- is good, actually, because Peter keeps stumbling over his thoughts and saying more things, more things that make Odin happy, more things that build his confidence and make every anxious nerve in his stomach twitch and dance a little harder. His hands are sweaty and he wipes them on his pants, his knee is starting to bounce and just-- fuck, too much energy, there's too much energy in his body, he needs to focus it on something.

There's one moment of hesitation before he's stepping forward, closing the gap between them, and he doesn't kiss Peter, not yet, but it's there, he's about to. He's an inch away, not looking directly at Peter, far too god damn nervous. He lowers his voice to a whisper, his breath ghosting over Peter's lips, and then he's leaning in, leaning into this, seizing his hope for what this is and fucking dragging himself down with it. ]

A while. [ He shuts his eyes, crashes their lips together. It's fast and it's fleeting but it's enough to ground him, fingers tangled in Peter's hair, just-- touching him, touching Peter, holding him close. He pulls back from the kiss before it can really get anywhere, and he laughs, a little, nervous like he's still not sure where this is going to go. ] A-A while. It's--

It's been a long time coming. I think. So if-- if you want-- to date? It's-- [ haaah. He flicks his eyes up, making contact, letting go of Peter's hair to rest his hand on his neck, stroking soothing lines over skin. ] Would you? With me. Be. Into. Interested.

[Peter's used to being able to react fast to anything, to not be caught so unaware by something so simple as someone walking toward him - but this takes the ground out from under him and he feels startled by just how close Odin is. He anticipates what will come next with a drop in his stomach and a - curious, inquisitive pang in his chest. Elation at the closeness, an allure he hasn't felt in a while.

Their lips meet and he doesn't know what it means, if it should mean anything, he can't attach the strongest of emotions to this kiss because it's the whole moment that means something to him. The kiss is just an action on top of everything else, one he presses into before peeling back with a shallow breath and the thud of his heart in his throat again. It's slowly creeping its way up beat by beat.

He can't figure what to do with his hands so he just stands there not doing anything with them, one still tangled in his tie and tugging on it before he unloops it. He itches to put his hands on Odin but doesn't know how, so he just curls the fingers of one hand into the hem of his sweatshirt and tugs it toward him to keep them anchored.]

I don't know if... [He murmurs, eyes clouded with thought - clearly he's not filtering himself and he catches up to what he's saying after a beat, blinking his gaze into more clarity as he seems to suddenly realize they've made eye contact. He sucks in a deep breath, head inclined to the side that Odin's hand rests on his neck.]

That's not a no, it's just... I don't know if I'm ready for other people to kn- Shit, other people can't know. You... You're the star of a dating show, for Christ's sake. You can't be hooking up with - actually, Debra'd like that but I'm...

[H e n g h] I'm talking too much. I'd be interested.

[ Everything goes cold, for the briefest of moments, when Peter says I don't know, and he almost pulls his hand back like it's been shocked. He keeps talking, and he leans into Odin's hand, and it's enough to kick his heart back into gear - but fuck, god damn it. He slumps and breathes out hard, legs almost giving way from how bad that got to him. Fuck. God damn it. That was close.

Peter's making sense, though. He actually forgot about the show, and the thought would make him laugh, if his mouth wasn't suddenly so dry. The room is spinning from the almost-rejection and he lowers his hands to grip tight to Peter's suit, moving to tug on his tie, tightening it back up and loosening it right after. He swallows as he thinks, trying to get through this without leaping into some kind of high-tension emotional reaction, and eventually settles on something that he thinks... sounds... okay. ]

I want to date you. [ He raises his eyes, tugs on Peter's tie again. ] It doesn't have to be public knowledge. I know you've probably got, um, some things to think about, and I don't-- want to force you into a place where you're not ready to go.

[ His shoulders dip, and he's starting to feel like he's asking for something impossible. He wants to say something like you don't even have to call yourself my boyfriend, or anything, but he wants that, and... and if he has to go without it to become something with Peter, fine, he will, but he's not going to volunteer that information. Odin's just-- pushing things, he can feel it.

Fuck. This can't be good, Peter can't want this. ]

I just want to be something. To you. [ He hits Peter's shoulder, just lightly, with his open palm. ] Something that's just yours. When we're chilling in your room and I hold your hand I want to be able to-- to like-- kiss you? And not have it be, like, a joke. I want to tell you about all the times you make my heart do stupid shit, and I want-- like-- I want to go places with you and have fun with you and be with you and know that it's-- us. You know? Us. Is that--

Is that what-- you're interested in?

[Peter breathes in deeply through his nose and bats at Odin's shoulder after he hits his, caught up in a swell of confusing feelings because that does sound good? It sounds like what they already do, aside from the kissing, and that's probably why it feels so comfortable to just sort of nod at it. It's definitely true that he has things to work out here but - okay.

It does bring up his fear that he's agreeing to all this so quickly and on a whim that he's going to wrap Odin around him only to let him down. He keeps returning to that feeling of being a disappointment to him, a fear that maybe he won't be able to go through with this. Elements of this - the physical... elements.

But how do you say that aloud? "I don't know if I'm gonna be able to fuck you, but I like you?" You don't. He doesn't. He just swallows that back down behind an anxious smile, sectioning that off for later. He can build up a reserve of concern for that later, because that's not... important now.]

You kinda already are something to me, man. But - yeah? Yeah. Doesn't sound all that different to... normal. Give or take some make outs and y'know, I'm feeling kinda self conscious about those? You didn't tell me if I'd improved since Christmas.

[Humorous twinge to his voice, that's how he copes alright?] Eh?

[ It's not like Odin doesn't feel the same, but the guy fucking kissed him, and after Poe - weeks of build up, months of something imbalanced - he's not really willing to let things lie without progress. They've reached something, even if it's unsteady and uncertain and makes him worry that Peter actually doesn't want this like he says he does, but that... can change, with time. One way or another. He just needs to take it slow, not rush to fall in love like he knows he would if things were smoother than this. ]

You've slept in the same bed with me for months. We basically had a couple's costume at Poe's Christmas party. I'm your best friend. Repeating patterns.

[ He grins, but it dies, self-conscious about using the word "couple" and even moreso for comparing what they are to what Peter and Jean were. He mumbles something apologetic from the back of his throat and lowers his head, those fucking butterflies tearing him in two. He's happy, ecstatic, but that anxiety of not being enough is hitting him in every form it can take. Fuck. ]

But... ah. Yeah. [ He's still too close to Peter, still there and ready to kiss him if he needs to, but there's tension in his shoulders and he's scared he's already pushed too far, so he eases back. He finds Peter's hand and feels static, which makes him jump, though he wets his lips and takes it as a sign that something's here and he has to stop overthinking.

So - the grin's back. Self-consciousness is stored away, just for a moment. If Peter's gonna smile, he's gonna smile back. ]

Yeah. You've improved. [ His smile twists, more wry than before, and he hits Peter's shoulder a little harder. It feels too-- platonic, though, when he does that, and that's fine, that's great, they should still be able to fuck around and be bros, but he doesn't want that right now. He finds Peter's tie instead and tugs on it, pulling him just half an inch forward by his neck. ] Am I-- ah.

Am I okay? In-- kissing. I know I talked a big game on Christmas, but, like. I've only kissed a couple of people, so I don't... yeah.

[Peter laughs again, a little breathless because - they did do all of those things. And more, probably. They had their own ship hashtag before either of them was out of their first relationship here. He wants to crack another joke but his smile pretty much shrivels up and dies when Odin's tugging on his tie, pulling him close by it in a way that is... minorly reassuring him that he won't have to worry too hard about there being any barriers to physical attraction.

Because fuck if it doesn't make his gut tense, lips parted for a sucked in breath through his teeth. He's embarrassed with how such a subtle gesture gets a response out of him - and not one he's used to. They joked about him liking to get stepped on by hot chicks but maybe they were a little narrow in the field of stepper-onners.] Uh.

[He's blanking. Turning redder still. He just claps his hands to Odin's hips, wiggling under his shirt to squeeze this grip with his teeth clenched together. You are fucking killing him by tugging on his tie and he's not sure why that is killing him so much but it is and you are.] You're pretty up there.

You did - that thing, you're kinda doing it right now? Where you're like, holding me in place and it's... ergh. It's kinda hot. It was kinda hot back then too, but I was wasted so like, the couch could've been hot if it rubbed me the wrong way... But this? It definitely improves shit.

[He digs his thumbs into Odin's hips, annoyed.] I like it. A lot. For the record.

Edited 2018-02-15 05:54 (UTC)

[ Holy shit.

Odin doesn't really know what to do with himself, other than go red and let his jaw drop. That was such a sudden, easy reaction, and he didn't even-- he didn't even try. Peter hasn't even seen him when he's trying. ]

Serious? [ He curls his fist in Peter's tie, each finger slowly closing tight around the fabric, and then he pulls again, harder than before, more of a yank. It's experimental but it's commanding, and he doesn't give Peter a chance to react before he's kissing him again, sealing their lips together with the slightest, tiniest trace of a moan caught between them. He thinks it's his own. He's too excited to tell.

The firm touches to his hips only make him more into this, but he stifles his own reactions, focusing entirely on earning more out of Peter. Or - he tries to, but then he digs and Odin's eyes flutter shut, ribs again aching from the pressure building in his breathless lungs. ]

Do you, uh... [ His mind is starting to drift, to thoughts he shouldn't have yet, thoughts Peter's giving him too easily. He's red and he's nervous and neither of them are ready for this, but they've always been like two stupid teenagers when they were together. Makes sense that he's feeling like one again now. ]

Do you wanna know the things you do that I really like? 'Cause, like. There's a lot. [ He pauses, then laughs, somewhat embarrassed. He dips his head down until their foreheads are touching, and he keeps his eyes closed tight. ] Fuck. I told Magnus about some of the shit you do that turns me on. Like - anonymously, he doesn't know it's you, he just - knows the guy I like does things with his hands that always fucking kills me.

[Peter can't tell whose moan it is when their lips meet because all he can think about is how jarring that pull was and how stupidly into it he is. He felt the same spiral of arousal when Jean pulled him by the t-shirt into her bedroom and knowing Odin's got a grip of his shitty tie is really making him - hot. Too hot? He shifts his weight from foot to foot and his lip trembles when their mouths part, breath shallow and panting.

He slides his hands up Odin's sides, treating this experimentally like he would any other intimate moment with anyone. Not exactly the same curve of the hip he's used to but it doesn't bother him, there's warmth for his splayed fingers to explore and he laughs again - light and airy when he hears Odin talk.]

You told me about the hands thing. And mouths. [It's kind of stunning to reflect on that now and wonder how much of what Odin said applied to him so directly. All of it? Strong looks, basically. He gives a jerking little laugh and then just pushes his weight against Odin, leaning on him with a bit of a corner twisted smile.]

What exactly do I do with my hands that warrants gossip to lil' bird Magnus Chase?

[ Odin can deal with the touches, the brush of softness over muscle he tightens reflexively when he breathes in. He can deal with the laugh, the way Peter's voice rings in his ears and sticks there, makes his heart beat a little harder because Peter is his and that laugh is his and he can't quite shake the awe that comes with knowing someone this charming and funny and engaging wants him, in whatever capacity. He can't, however, deal with the reminder that he totally fucking told Peter what he's into. God damn it.

He groans, embarrassed, and lets Peter lean against him. He doesn't answer the question, not at first, but he lets his eyes open and... considers what he's about to do.

And--

And he pushes Peter back up against the wall, harder than he needs to. He keeps him there, pressed tight against his body, and he lets his hands wander. They drift down Peter's chest to his sides, and he doesn't take this further, because he's still not ready, they're both not ready, but Peter's intoxicating him and he presses his fingertips hard into his belt, nails scratching over leather as he holds tight. ]

Oreos. [ One word, mixed with a laugh, because fuck, it sounds stupid to say out loud. ] Twisting them open. Long fingers. And-- seeing you drag your tongue over the-- cream. Fuck, everything you do with your hands gets to me. You're always just-- doing things. Touching things, moving things. Expressive. It's...

[ The laugh fades, and so does any humor in his expression. He clenches his jaw, and his voice is darker, harder. He's trying to be good, trying to behave, because fuck, fuck, he has to keep telling himself, they're not ready, neither of them are ready for this-- ]

You're really fucking hot to me. [ He swallows. ] Dude, I was making no homo jokes about your mouth in October. This isn't new, I just... didn't... let myself think about it too hard before now.

Edited 2018-02-15 07:36 (UTC)

[They keep toeing the line of familiar friendly touch and something much more abrasively new, something that scrubs Peter raw when it happens - like the jolt that shoots through him when he's slammed back against the wall unexpectedly. The pain in his shoulders, the way one of his palms braces against the ornate wallpaper and just how much that sudden movement catches his breath in his throat - it bites into him.

He glances down to see Odin's hand as he feels it wander, chest rising and falling with faster breaths in line with a quickly beating heart. This is a first time despite familiarity; it's the first time with Odin and the first time it's - this. Not Peter's hands clumsily on a girl, but fumbling to barely grab a hold of a sweatshirt while Odin grips his belt in a way that just feels so much more natural. Peter's - stunned. And overwhelmed in the best of ways.]

Oreos. [He laughs, crisp and clear - his head lolling back to rest against the wall as his eyes flick over Odin's face with amusement. He never thought of it that way before? He just... that's just - God, maybe it would've been the same to him if he'd seen Jean or Darlene eat them middle first. Now maybe he'll see it the same way if Odin ever does, too.]

Sorry I was an unknowing cookie slut. [He chuckles again, easygoing even while trying to fight back and ignore a bit of tension south of where Odin's hands rest. He - wants more, but this is a lot already. He just can't find it in him to pull away? He slides his hand back up under Odin's sweater, curling around the back of him just to hold him close. But he fidgets with that grip, nails grazing lightly and his fingers playing against the muscles of Odin's lower back and hip.]

Real... real talk? I don't know... what I'm comfortable with yet, like. Physically. [He feels like if he can't break away, he better just say it - put it out there in the ether as he scrambles with every other thought. Every flashing hesitance.] But I like this. I like touching you, and whatever. I also wanna keep doing it. Just - slowly, okay?

I'm not fragile or anything, though. ["So slamming me against walls is A-OK."] Just - my dick's just been paying attention since you grabbed my tie? And if - it's better to cool down or something, not to rush it... I don't know? I just. I'm getting hot, dude. You're making me hot here and I don't wanna... fuck this up?

Edited 2018-02-15 08:04 (UTC)

[ Unknowing cookie slut. He laughs, but it's so different to all the laughs Peter's heard from him before - it's just a quiet breath through his nose, a single sound rolling up from his chest. He'd address that, make a joke about it, but his hand is starting to slip from Peter's belt to his shirt, and he doesn't take it far, not really, but he starts to pull it out of his waistband, untucking his shirt in quick gentle tugs.

When Peter talks about his comfort level, he catches what he's doing and he breathes out, shaky and slow. Right, fuck, of course, he knows that. Peter doesn't need to say it - he knows better than anyone that despite the comfort they feel in their physical relationship, anything further is... a lot. He's never had this the way it's supposed to be had; romance first, intimacy after. That's what he wants. ]

You just told me to chill out while simultaneously telling you how and why I'm making you hard. [ He groans, like Peter's killing him, because he fuuuuucking is, but he gets it. He leaves his fingers hooked under Peter's belt and rolls his words over his tongue before he says them. ] I-I know, though. I know. I'm the same? Like-- like, it's--

[ Fuck. Odin pulls his hands back, and he leaves them on Peter's hips, but there's-- a barrier. A shirt, thin fabric, the wall between bare skin, the gate separating this moment to the one that could exist. Tangled limbs on silk sheets, hand in hand as they cement this. There's a distance that wasn't quite so obvious when he had his hands on Peter's belt, and... and it takes him a while to cool down enough to find the guts to say what he needs to say, but he does, in the end. ]

I don't want to screw this up either. You're my best friend, I don't... [ He hesitates. ] It's important to me that if you're not my best friend anymore-- not just my best friend anymore, I mean-- I know what I can call you? And I don't think... you're at a place where I can just be like, hey, yeah, this is my boyfriend. You know? So I don't...

[ He straightens his fingers, rests his bare palms on Peter's hips. Tight, steady. There. He's still close, still able to feel Peter's bodyheat. All he would have to do is shift his hips a little and he'd be able to feel Peter through his clothes, and he swallows, keeping his feet locked to the ground so he doesn't. ]

I don't want to do anything before we can do that. I think. Even though-- even though I've thought about doing this with you a lot. Before. Now. [ He pauses. ] In like, a jerkin' it way. That's what I meant. Did you get that?

And... now you're telling me you jerked it to me. [He says in a similar you're killing me tone of voice, a little lower and huskier than normal because he's trying so hard to not be so baited. The only thing keeping him from pushing forward are a few uncertain hurdles and the constant reminder that this is his best friend and a voice at the back of his head says don't rush into this even as he feels his abdomen tense to the touch. Even as he wants to push back against his hands, stubbornly meeting contact with contact. Force with force.

His shirt's half untucked and he stares down at it for a beat, trying to look at anything but Odin - then thoughtlessly runs his tongue over his lip. He doesn't remember the whole oral fixation thing until a moment later, when he feels a bit embarrassed at the notion of being watched - no, observed in a more intimate way. On the heels of being told someone fantasized about fucking him, it makes Peter a bit shy.]

That uh - makes sense. But what makes you think I'm not - there? [He's genuinely curious and just a bit stubborn, and the latter bleeds into his knitted brow as he glances up at Odin. He thinks, after a beat, it might be true but he did just ask Odin not to date anyone else. And say he'd give this whole thing a try. What makes him still seem hesitant, or reluctant? When's he supposed to know?]

I don't know if I am. But I could be.

[ He pulls a face, something half-apologetic and half-amused. He should say he's sorry, but he doesn't - just lets that fact sit between them in silence until Peter moves on from it.

But then he does that thing with his tongue and Odin goes red, eyes trained on Peter's lips like a bloodhound to a scent. Fuck. It's hard to pull away from that but he's gonna have to if he wants to keep things above the belt, so to speak, and it looks like he's physically fucking pained as he looks pointedly up at the ceiling and counts prime numbers in his head. Down, Odin Junior. Put that flame to rest. When his brain kicks into gear and he can formulate words that aren't just jesus christ I wanna suck your dick, he's still stuttering over everything like a record skip, shy and awkward and so god damn obviously affected. ]

The-- ah. I mean-- the-- I'm a dude.

[ He breathes out and looks down, meeting Peter's eyes again. He's defensive now, leaning back as if he were ready to get hit - it's a bit of a weak argument, given the B-Side of this conversation is all latent sexual attraction and clumsy hands, but it's the core of things. It's less about Peter being comfortable with being his boyfriend and more about... whether or not Peter would be comfortable saying he has a boyfriend himself. It's a big ask, Odin thinks.

And-- ]

Poe... wouldn't... uh.

[ The defensiveness falls and he looks at Peter a little helplessly. He's been bringing Poe up too much, but it's still a fresh wound, despite everything, and it's all he has to compare this to. His only relationship, if it can even be called that, regardless of any confirmations Poe gave him so late after it had ended. ]

Just - I wanted it really bad. To have, like, a boyfriend. I wanted to be able to call him that? And he wouldn't let me. And now there's-- you, and you're always in my head, and I'm always thinking of you and I miss you when we're apart-- fuck, I miss you when you're in the next fucking room, I've missed you all week and we're sharing a god damn island, and I--

[ But I could be is in his head, and it gives him hope, but he doesn't latch onto it. He's been burned in love too many times by hope. ]

I just don't want to scare you off. I don't want to force things again. It's how I fucked up so bad last time? I kept pushing with him, pushing to know where we were and what I am and I'm scared that if I push with you when you're-- vulnerable and figuring things out-- I'll. Yeah.

[ He swallows. Again, though - but I could be. He could take a chance here, if he has the guts. He's not sure if he does. He lowers his head, looking down between them and hiding his eyes, then blindly lets his hands climb to Peter's neck, resting his hands on either side of it. ]

I just don't want to ask for too much. I don't know.

[Peter knows he has a lot of shit to sort through and the concept of calling Odin his boyfriend is both second nature and a bit - weird? But when he tries to zone in on just why it's weird, it just circles around stupid hetero reflex and conditioning. His sister's bi, his dad was dating the Professor - there's no pressure to adhere to anything there. And even if there was, Peter's always been the kid who pushes back against authority, against prejudice and scathing looks. He grew up a mutant, after all. People can screw off.

Or so he tells himself, wondering - circumstance.] Well, first off...

[Poe is a fucking asshole. Peter can't say that, and it burns him inside a bit to just have so many angry feelings for the guy that Odin likes. Liked? Maybe that's why this churns his stomach something sour, distracting him from the heat pooling in his groin. He was jealous of Poe before, he can tell that now, but he's also just... so angry with the guy's choices. What he's left Odin behind to deal with.]

I already agreed to date you so it'd be kinda stupid not to let you call me your boyfriend. Then you'd have to call me something gross like your partner in crime and nobody's got time for that. I just - when I say I don't want people to know, it's... not 'cause I don't want them to know because of you. It's like, I don't want...

[Phew. He closes his eyes.] I don't want to barge in on your family here, not after I spoke to Leo... He'll hate me more than he does already and we only just kinda agreed to be acquaintances. Lucina - she might be more understanding but she... she had some pretty high standards for who she wanted to see you with, Owain.

And Magnus - fuck, I just asked him for advice too? Like, stupidly. Anonymously. He's going to figure us out and I kinda just wanna see how long it takes him to. I don't give a fuck about anyone else.

[A hesitant beat.] Except maybe whoever's in charge of your contract here and the scandal that might arise if we waltz out of this hand in hand. So like, for - for that reason... too.

[ He listens, but he doesn't hear.

I already agreed to date you so it'd be kinda stupid not to let you call me your boyfriend. It's just one line, a single fucking line, thrown out carelessly and without any real thought behind it, but Odin sinks into it. He's not sure if Peter gets what this means to him, the fucking weight he's assigned to this. The word boyfriend ties so concretely into the issues he's grown up with; how many years did he want to be good enough to be a prince of Ylisse? How many years did he spend trying to be good enough to be his parents' son? He was so ambitious back home, struggling against this innate inferiority complex he's been born with, and knowing he would never be a Hero or a Good Son or a Good Prince almost led him to his death. There are so many things he's wanted to be and to have, defining words and phrases he's attached an identity to, and... fuck. Boyfriend is one of the biggest.

To have a boyfriend, or a girlfriend, means that someone just likes him for who he is and wants that, wants him, and after months of anxiety, months of telling himself he'll never be that for someone before he's ported home into a war he won't win, it's-- ]

Wait--

[ Did that wait even leave him? It came so quietly he couldn't tell. ]

Wait, wait.

[ He's lit up like fucking Christmas, stars dancing behind his eyes as his hands press a little harder into Peter's neck. Not enough to choke, not enough to bruise, but-- there's pressure, and he's trembling, and he's happy, he's so happy he's gonna cry, he's never been this happy before-- even when Leo arrived and he held him and sobbed, even when Lucina arrived and he told her of home-- it pales, in the brilliance of this. A lifetime of insecurity, a lifetime of feeling unable to live up to names and titles, a lifetime of wanting to be good enough to live up to something, and Peter just--

Peter just gives it to him, without even thinking. ]

So I can-- [ He's crying? He's crying, and he doesn't realize he's doing it until his voice refuses to come out. His bottom lip is actually shaking, and it's kind of pathetic, tears streaming down his cheeks in rivers. Fuck. He pulls away from Peter and rapidly scrubs away at them, clearing salt from his skin. They keep coming, and he hates it, so he covers his eyes with the back of his forearm to hide what's happening as best as he can. There's so much fucking hope in his voice. ]

I can call you that? My boyfriend?

[Not the reaction Peter was gunning for or expecting, but it's not so out of line for what he should've expected to come from Odin in response. Peter holds on to the last syllable of what he was saying, glancing up and seeing Odin shift away with a tear streaked face. Upon later reflection this and not the heated kissing and languid touches would be what Peter realizes was the moment it all cemented into reality for him. How when he sees Odin cry he instinctively wants to comfort him, how he pushes off the wall to step back in toward him with a sympathetic face despite a pang of guilt for starting the waterworks.

His fingertips graze at Odin's elbow with a light and easy going smile.] Yeah? You can call me whatever you want. Even Partner in Crime, if you wanna. Though I will make fun of you for that one, though? Fair warning. Mutter at your own discretion.

[He tugs at Odin's elbow, wanting to pull him back but this time into a comforting embrace. This much he's done before and so he doesn't hesitate.] C'mere. Idiot.

Edited 2018-02-15 09:45 (UTC)

[ They're good tears, rather than bad ones. Happiness that flows out of him too easily that he can't quite control. They're silent, other than the hiccups and the frustrated AUGH STOPs Odin yells impotently into the air every so often. When Peter pulls him in he doesn't fight it, just buries his nose into the curve of his neck and sniffles like an idiot, He tucks his arms tight behind Peter's back and squeezes with the kind of bear hug intensity he usually reserves for dumb, pranky bullshit moments where Peter's just trying to relax and Odin squeezes the air out of his lungs to fuck with him. He hiccups again, the noise smothered by Peter's sleeve.

The tears come to a stop pretty quickly now that Peter's there for him.

He doesn't move, just lessens the vice-like tightness of his hug and drags his fingers gently over Peter's back. Fuck. This is real, this is real, he's fucking found someone worth fighting for. ]

Sorry. [ He doesn't break the hug, but he tilts his head so he can talk. ] I just-- wanted-- that. A lot. To be someone. To someone. For a long time, and-- fuck, did you call me Owain? God damn it, stop, you're gonna make me wanna suck your dick and it'll be all gross and stupid 'cause I'm all snotty and teary and shit.

[ His voice is watery and his brain's still stalling and slowly catching up with everything Peter said, but it's important and he's trying to focus through the clouds of dumb emotional sentimentality and shaking knees. Odin-- Owain?-- weakly pounds his fist on Peter's chest, slumping more against his neck. ]

M'not gonna call you my Partner in Crime. Gonna call you, like-- darling or something gross like that. [ He chuckles, stupidly. ] Gonna have to come up with some names 'til I find one you like. [ but - fuck. Okay. He needs to focus on everything Peter was saying before he got all carried away. ]

Fuck. Shit. Ugh. [ He doesn't have the strength to pull back, and he doesn't really want to - he just nestles in, leaning his weight against Peter until he's forced back against the wall. Deal with it. ] Okay-- okay. Okay. Family stuff-- fuck. Leo might kill you? For real. Fuck. Lucina-- she'll be good, but I don't want her to feel more disconnected to me than she already does, so you gotta be friends with her before the big reveal. Magnus-- I'm gonna fuck up and tell him within, like, a day, but yeah, let's science experiment him and see what happens. [ he grins. stupid magnus. ]

We'll figure everything out. For now, I'm just - this is good. Yeah? Keeping you to myself for a while.

Edited 2018-02-15 10:17 (UTC)

[Peter rubs his hand against Odin's back in a way he's done several times before, a soothing circle and a firm hold. He doesn't even complain when Odin squeezes him, pretty much used to it at this point - but he does make a noise when sucking in his next breath, a little rattle until the pressure relents. He laughs under his breath at joked at blow jobs. No other reaction seems to apply.]

Sounds good to me. [Working up to the reveal, letting Magnus in when they think it works.]

Mmh, you're crushing me a little here by the way. [The wall to his back is fine but with the tides shifting as they are, this seems like the opportunity to change course away from finding that pinned restriction hot and instead move into just relaxing again. Out of this dress shirt and pants. Which he doesn't want to have to pay for.]

What if we like, chill - on the bed - squeeze me all you want there but I Debra's gonna kill me if this suit gets messed up. Let me get out of it? You don't have anything else to do tonight, right? We can... chill.

[Which seems synonymous for something else but Peter doesn't know what he wants it to mean. Other than just being able to spend some time with Odin, alone. They can hash through more of this if they want but honestly, all Peter wants to do is lay down and dissolve away the pressure that's built up in him after today. Figure out how to keep driving now that the roadblocks are clear.]

Mnn.

[ He doesn't really want to move, comfortable where he is over Peter, feeling his weight under his own, but. The thought of Debra getting on his mOTHErfUcKING bOYfRIeND'S case about anything fills his mouth with a sour taste. He pulls back, holding onto Peter's shirt with the very tips of his thumb and forefinger. He doesn't want to lose contact, he doesn't want to break apart. ]

Okay... [ Bed sounds good. Chilling sounds good, even though he, too, can sense the unspoken euphemism that they're both apparently going to have to work hard on avoiding. He tightens his grip on Peter's shirt and stares down at his hand, actually having to take a breath and tell himself they'll be close again soon before he can let go. Ugh, fuck, okay - three, two, one. He lets go. He hates it already. ] Just be quick, yeah? There's an ensuite off to the side, so you can get changed here, if you want - I've got some PJs you can slip into... or whatever. Even though they'll be big. 'Cause you're scrawny.

[ He flashes a smile, but it's miserable. Even a few minutes away from Peter is gonna suck, now that they're-- this. Fucking Debra and her fucking meticulous suit-loving bullshit. He takes a breath and drags his feet back towards the bed, falling down against it. ]

Hurry up. [ he's muffled by the mattress, but he kicks his foot impatiently in the air behind him. hyrry y u ppp ]

[Peter's fingertips graze along Odin's forearm as he pulls away, feeling a lot of the same magnetism that he hates to fight - but feels momentarily relieved by the space. It lets a coolness come over him, sorely needed, and he steps back toward the chaise he left his jacket on while watching Odin flop down on the bed. He loosens his tie, watching him as he slips it off and glances to the ensuite.

He's never used it before, they've always gotten changed in front of one another. Peter has never had a qualm about ripping his shirt off during the night, sweaty from being entangled in Odin's limbs and dragged back against him any time he rolled too far away. He always felt comfortable before, because they were bros. But now he's untucking his shirt and working on the buttons and feeling... peculiar.

Overthinking it. He knows he is, but to think that - someone's paying attention to him now. And - Odin was before? It makes him a bit self conscious because he knows he's not exactly amazing to look at. Average to the core, if that, and Odin's... not. He's still pleased to know that he's not exactly revolting, somehow suckering Odin into finding him attractive, but this moment just sticks out to him. Maybe because Odin gave him an out for modesty's sake.]

Fuck you. [He retorts to start, rummaging around for something to change into after letting his shirt fall open. A shirt alone is enough and he looks over his options before shrugging off his own and laying it over the other suit pieces. There's just a moment of hesitance before he works off his belt, kicking his shoes aside and throwing his pants onto the pile. He - finds there to be a lot of shit he is not gonna borrow, pulling the least offensive item out he can find - which happens to be a paint splattered t-shirt.

He hooks his arms into it, trekking over to the bed to give Odin's leg a kick as he threads it overhead. And then he collapses next to him on the bed in it and his boxers, feeling a lot better - lighter, and not just because of the clothing change.] Fast enough for ya?

I swear to God though, there's some sort of spring that keeps stabbing me in the ass on this bed. [He flops around like a fish to get comfortable.]

[ It wasn't too strange a thing to assume, was it? They've always been okay with skin to skin contact, with stupid clumsy jokes about seeing each other's dicks passed between them like fucking oreos, but they're more than that, now. He didn't think... fuck. Odin just thought they had to be a little more careful as time went on, given what they are now. What they are. Shit. It still doesn't feel real.

Peter starts untucking his shirt and Odin says nothing, but there's proof here that any self-consciousness he might feel extends beyond just overthinking things. Odin doesn't comment, but he watches, peering out from over his forearm as Peter gets changed. The tips of his ears go red and he tries his hardest to keep his eyes above the belt, to flick away every so often when he thinks Peter's catching him staring, but there's a warmth that eclipses his baser, physical reaction to this - they're still comfortable just as they are. Good. That's good to know.

When Peter kicks at his leg he grunts and hides his face in the sheets, bouncing a little when his motherfuckin' boyfriend fish-flops around as hard as he does. Again, it takes a moment for him to say anything, just turning his head to the side and resting his ear to his arm so he can look at Peter a little sideways, and he wonders if it would be too forward to say half the things he's thinking. ]

I had all this stuff from my mom on me when I ported in? It's all in a box under the mattress, 'cause I don't like being away from any of it. It's probably that.

[ Or it's just a spring, like Peter said. It's not like Odin hasn't pissed off enough of the production crew for them to purposefully get him a shitty bed. He shifts to sit upright and draws his knees up, resting his chin on it and hugging his legs to his chest. His ears are still red, which he's trying to will away, but it's tough. ]

And-- and like. Just to be clear. [ he clears his throat. ] You're staying the night up here, yeah? Just-- like, to sleep, obviously.

Edited ( HENG) 2018-02-18 06:15 (UTC)

[Peter stretches out on his side, pulling a pillow close and scrunching it up under one arm to rest his chin on. It's weird for a beat, and not because of playing princess and the dead mom's belongings on this mattress but - because there's a renewed flicker of something to the air. Something he feels like a thump in his chest, a static feeling in him from maybe knowing Odin was glancing at him, maybe knowing he didn't mind it. Something that makes him want to smile a bit, since it's a pretty half-decent feeling. Warm, comfortable. Nice.]

Yeah, unless you wanna throw me out. [He quirks a brow before thoughtfully jabbing Odin in the side with a fingertip.]

And we don't have to like, just sleep. [He adds on after a pause, clearing his throat because yeah - again, things are coming out of his mouth more sexual than he intends and half his brain doesn't mind while the other half is desperately slamming the brakes. That flutter blossoms in his chest a little more, and he just reaches to pull Odin's arm away from his knee to get at his hand.

Let him hold that for you.] Y'know, if you wanted - to just... lightly fool around or something? I don't know.

Edited (im a fool) 2018-02-18 06:48 (UTC)

[ Odin feels the flutter of something close to panic when Peter jokes about being thrown out - he's ready to overreact and argue that that's the last thing he wants when there's a light jab to the side that leaves him wheezing. Geh. He rubs at his ribs, though his hand comes to a slow, gradual stop the more Peter talks, and by the end of it all he hesitates, red again, covering his mouth with his palm. ]

You're killing me, man. [ It's muffled, the steady groan of a man being pretty easily affected by the accidental come ons of the dude he's dating, but it's there, even as he brushes his fingertips over Peter's hand. He rubs at his nose and drops his arm back to his side as he cautiously locks their fingers together, and he laughs, stupidly. Just happy to have this moment. ]

I, uh. [ He lays down flat and scoots closer to Peter - it's clumsy and takes a little time, because he refuses to seperate their hands until they're both comfortable, but soon he's laying down on his side again, close enough to feel bodyheat. ] I-- so, like. I wanna kiss you again. A lot. All the time. All night. Is that okay? If we just... [ he shrugs, dragging Peter's arm up a little when he does it. ] It's not that I don't want to do anything more than-- that, it's just. Early? And. I want to spend all night doing-- dumb. Romantic. Things. Telling you I like you and being really stupidly in puppy love or whatever.

Odin Dark's cascading emotions are, outwardly, seemingly a rush of conflicting struggles against his inner darkness and ever-present turmoil, but he actually just has a huge crush on this dumb asshole named Peter and wants to die over how he's his now or whatever. So.

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