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[ 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.

[Peter shifts accordingly, holding on to Odin's hand with a little squeeze if and when it seems like they might have to let go until they're settled. And then they're close enough he feels so aware of his own breath, heart crawling up his throat until he swallows it back down and flicks his eyes over Odin's lips and jaw and - appreciates him for a moment.

Peter tugs at their linked hands, pulling Odin's over to his side and positioning against his hip. He then he slips his fingers away, smoothing them up Odin's arm and affectionately hooks them behind his elbow to anchor him close. It helps for when he shifts forward to kiss Odin, light and quick - testing the feel of a chaste kiss, weighing it against the more heated and needy ones.]

Just kissing is cool. For a little while or all night, whatever you're feeling? I just... I wanna just do whatever. This is good. I like this.

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