[It makes him laugh softly, but the sound is dry, without much humor in it at all. He appreciates the attention though, and just lets Peter stay there, pressed up close against him for as long as he needs.]
Why do I get the feeling that the 'something giving' is going to mean more stress and upset all around?
Mm. I seem to be handing out nicknames lately, that's yours. More complimentary than Tempest's.
[he's going to be there awhile, honestly. it's been too long since anybody has been affectionate with him in a way that was entirely comfortable. since he came to exsi, really, and as much as he'd hate to admit it, he'd gotten used to letha as well as his mother, to having someone constantly there, touching and being touched. he hasn't let himself really feel safe with anyone since he arrived, and now that he has it it's hard to let go, especially in the face of everything that's going on.]
Because you're a smart cookie. We're not through the river of shit yet, not by a lot.
If it's more complimentary, why does it sound like something out of a foreign soap opera? [His name is shorter anyway! But hey, to each their own, maybe.
In truth, giving someone that- comfort? Affection? Is just as new to him as it is for Peter to be receiving it, if not newer. But Isaac doesn't really hate it and he's not particularly inclined to stop any time soon. He's getting a positive reaction out of this... sort of, if you discount all the crying, and so he doesn't particularly mind continuing.]
[there's a hint of peter's normal deadpan in his voice, weak and watered-down, but it doesn't come with even a hint of the distance peter's always been careful to leave between them. he's still leaking the occasional tear against isaac's neck, but mostly it's stopped. possibly peter's been so careful about that distance because he needs this, and needing something means it hurts to lack but it hurts more to lose. not caring is almost always the best defense. but it's failed now, and so he'll take what seems suspiciously like cuddling instead.]
[The sort-of cuddling is a little odd, but Isaac takes it because he doesn't quite know what else to do. it's not like he's in his best mental state either, and if Peter wants to offer him closeness- wants to ask for closeness- then who is Isaac to say no? It's a nice feeling, and he thinks, dangerously, that it might be a nice thing to get used to.
Nope. Gadje is a label, not a nickname. You're Roma or you're gadje, kind of a Jews and Gentiles thing. Most everyone is.
[including, technically, peter himself, but he's in no mood to get into the politics of it. he can feel isaac's pulse faintly through the place where his forehead rests against the other boy's neck, and there's something calming about that. it makes him want to stay there, and peter knows that's bad, that it's dangerous. but this thing that scared the hell out of him yesterday is so lulling now, seems so simple to give into. he never wanted to be alone quite so much as he believed he did, and it's painfully obvious that isaac never wanted to be alone at all.]
[peter gives a try at chuckling. it mostly works. and he's finally stopped crying, so he shifts his head back more toward the curve of isaac's shoulder, offering him some breathing room.]
[the next thing peter does is literally look up, because he wants to see isaac laugh. the pink around his eyes makes them look very blue, and he smiles crookedly at isaac.]
Sure as hell does. I think she'd object strenuously to princess. Possibly by punching me.
[the mangling of the word finally gets peter to laugh, soft but genuine.]
Rikonoro.
[there's roll and clip to the way he says it, the last r a slightly throaty sound, kind of slavic.]
I think she called me idiot and brat. Maybe something else. But then she told me I'm pretty, so I should probably forgive her.
[utterly deadpan, because if there's something peter isn't at the moment, it's pretty. not with puffy, shadowed eyes, a red-tipped nose and the slight imprint of the collar of isaac's shirt across his cheek.
[But he doesn't try to repeat it again, and Isaac just smiles, pleased that Peter seems to be cheering up a bit. Speaking of, though, his hand moves up, gesturing toward the wall.]
I'm gonna- get the door. When I get back, we can talk about how pretty you are.
[because the truth of it is that peter feels more comfortable with it open too, even if it's easier for him to turn his back on the exit. he gently disengages himself, backing into what's become his side of the bed. while isaac takes care of the door peter scrubs his face with his sleeve, rubbing away the tight places where tears dried on his face. laying down just seems sensible. he's wrung out and isaac probably doesn't want to hold him up when the mattress will do just as well.]
Pretty sure I'm not going to be winning any beauty contests today. Not the one who manages to look like he just rolled out of a renaissance painting even with bedhead, either. Life's tough.
[Dryly, and Isaac opens the door, relishing the soft flutter of cool air that greets him, before turning around and leaning his back against the wall with a smirk.]
[when isaac turns around peter's looking at him with one eyebrow raised and the same side of his mouth quirked up, arms folded lightly across his chest despite the fact that he's lying down. somehow it manages to be equal parts challenge and invitation. peter would much rather tease isaac about his cheekbones and pretty eyes than focus on the weight of misery in his chest.]
[Isaac strides forward easily, pressing his hands over the wooden frame at the foot of the bed and leaning over with a little grin. Peter's still wrecked from crying, and Isaac really isn't much better, but sure. They can pretend they're both in their prime.]
Is that supposed to be a compliment? I've seen a few paintings, you know. They all look kind of weird.
[isaac jumping onto the mattress bounces peter, who just takes the opportunity to curl a bit more, leaving his feet where they are in favor of curling his upper body forward and, incidentally, stealing most of the pillow.]
Don't even joke. You have huge pretty doe eyes that are so blue they shouldn't even damn exist in the reality of eyes.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
freezerburned) wrote2012-08-21 10:00 pm
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[It makes him laugh softly, but the sound is dry, without much humor in it at all. He appreciates the attention though, and just lets Peter stay there, pressed up close against him for as long as he needs.]
Why do I get the feeling that the 'something giving' is going to mean more stress and upset all around?
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[he's going to be there awhile, honestly. it's been too long since anybody has been affectionate with him in a way that was entirely comfortable. since he came to exsi, really, and as much as he'd hate to admit it, he'd gotten used to letha as well as his mother, to having someone constantly there, touching and being touched. he hasn't let himself really feel safe with anyone since he arrived, and now that he has it it's hard to let go, especially in the face of everything that's going on.]
Because you're a smart cookie. We're not through the river of shit yet, not by a lot.
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In truth, giving someone that- comfort? Affection? Is just as new to him as it is for Peter to be receiving it, if not newer. But Isaac doesn't really hate it and he's not particularly inclined to stop any time soon. He's getting a positive reaction out of this... sort of, if you discount all the crying, and so he doesn't particularly mind continuing.]
Great. More stuff to look forward to.
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[there's a hint of peter's normal deadpan in his voice, weak and watered-down, but it doesn't come with even a hint of the distance peter's always been careful to leave between them. he's still leaking the occasional tear against isaac's neck, but mostly it's stopped. possibly peter's been so careful about that distance because he needs this, and needing something means it hurts to lack but it hurts more to lose. not caring is almost always the best defense. but it's failed now, and so he'll take what seems suspiciously like cuddling instead.]
This place is just a laugh-a-minute fun ride.
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Except, you know. Without the tears next time.]
Gadje, now? Did I just get demoted?
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[including, technically, peter himself, but he's in no mood to get into the politics of it. he can feel isaac's pulse faintly through the place where his forehead rests against the other boy's neck, and there's something calming about that. it makes him want to stay there, and peter knows that's bad, that it's dangerous. but this thing that scared the hell out of him yesterday is so lulling now, seems so simple to give into. he never wanted to be alone quite so much as he believed he did, and it's painfully obvious that isaac never wanted to be alone at all.]
Still rikonoro.
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I don't even now what that means.
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[there's a little smile in his voice when he says it, the slight curve of his cheek into isaac's shoulder.]
It's not bad, promise. Spent that coin on Tempest. Pricina means annoying.
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[He laughs, trying to force some brevity into the situation.]
What did she say to that?
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Told her it meant trouble, which she liked.
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I'll bet she did. She does a good job of owning it.
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Sure as hell does. I think she'd object strenuously to princess. Possibly by punching me.
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[But he's still grinning.]
...and do it over the network. Less punching that way.
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Rikonoro.
[there's roll and clip to the way he says it, the last r a slightly throaty sound, kind of slavic.]
I think she called me idiot and brat. Maybe something else. But then she told me I'm pretty, so I should probably forgive her.
[utterly deadpan, because if there's something peter isn't at the moment, it's pretty. not with puffy, shadowed eyes, a red-tipped nose and the slight imprint of the collar of isaac's shirt across his cheek.
honest, though, maybe.]
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[But he doesn't try to repeat it again, and Isaac just smiles, pleased that Peter seems to be cheering up a bit. Speaking of, though, his hand moves up, gesturing toward the wall.]
I'm gonna- get the door. When I get back, we can talk about how pretty you are.
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[because the truth of it is that peter feels more comfortable with it open too, even if it's easier for him to turn his back on the exit. he gently disengages himself, backing into what's become his side of the bed. while isaac takes care of the door peter scrubs his face with his sleeve, rubbing away the tight places where tears dried on his face. laying down just seems sensible. he's wrung out and isaac probably doesn't want to hold him up when the mattress will do just as well.]
Pretty sure I'm not going to be winning any beauty contests today. Not the one who manages to look like he just rolled out of a renaissance painting even with bedhead, either. Life's tough.
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[Dryly, and Isaac opens the door, relishing the soft flutter of cool air that greets him, before turning around and leaning his back against the wall with a smirk.]
You have an imagination.
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[when isaac turns around peter's looking at him with one eyebrow raised and the same side of his mouth quirked up, arms folded lightly across his chest despite the fact that he's lying down. somehow it manages to be equal parts challenge and invitation. peter would much rather tease isaac about his cheekbones and pretty eyes than focus on the weight of misery in his chest.]
I have eyes, too.
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[Isaac strides forward easily, pressing his hands over the wooden frame at the foot of the bed and leaning over with a little grin. Peter's still wrecked from crying, and Isaac really isn't much better, but sure. They can pretend they're both in their prime.]
Is that supposed to be a compliment? I've seen a few paintings, you know. They all look kind of weird.
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[peter laughs a little, tilts his chin up just slightly.]
It is a compliment. Have I finally met someone less cultured than me? What a day. I could use my words, it's cute when you blush.
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[A pause, and Isaac hops over the foot of the bed, bouncing on the bottom edge before pulling his legs forward to sit cross-legged near Peter's feet.]
Do I have beady eyes?
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Don't even joke. You have huge pretty doe eyes that are so blue they shouldn't even damn exist in the reality of eyes.
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[That makes him laugh, and he rolls aforementioned eyes.]
If I'm a painting, then what are you?
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