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Simon
It's a few hours after sunset when Cian gets a text message:
- Are you home?
And only a minute or so after a confirmation had been sent back, Cian hears a knock coming from his front door.
Cian
Cian looks...very much like he's not expecting company, much less Simon, to be at his front door. His hair is unbrushed and ruffled like he's been dragging increasingly frustrated fingers through it, he's barefoot, and he's in what passes for pajamas, for him - a linen shirt and loose trousers that tie at the waist.
He stands in the doorway for a moment, blinking, his mouth dropping open a bit.
"Simon. What..." he trails off with a helpless laugh and grabs at the man to pull him into a hug.
If the prickly mortal will let him, in such a disheveled state.
Simon
Meanwhile, Simon looks immaculate--hair tidy, his suit as neat and in place as it always is. Glasses perched on his nose, and his eyes tired and sharp--but that's nothing new. The man is always tired.
"Good ev--" he starts, then pauses a beat as he's pulled into the hug, "--ning." He rests a hand on his hip, squeezing, while his other hand has a wrapped box tucked under his arm.
Cian
"Good evening, yourself," Cian mutters from where he's buried his face into Simon's hair, and pulls him back through the doorway. "When did you get back?" After another tight squeeze - maybe a little stronger than before, even - he pulls back, holding the man at arms length to look at him. "I - I'm afraid I didn't prepare for your arrive at all, I'd have purchased..." a vague gesture to the empty kitchen, where a bright yellow teakettle still sits on the stove.
Cian's apartment, at first glance, is merely filled with even more books. There's pathways from the door to the kitchen and bedroom, as well as to the same small couch (also covered in books) - but the kitchen table has been replaced by a desk, a sleek laptop sitting open on it. Surrounded by more books.
"Do you want tea? Or - I think I have whiskey, still, somewhere..."
Simon
"Whiskey," he replies first, because priorities. But he lets Cian draw him inside, resting his hand on his arm. "This morning. Things wrapped up in Berlin faster than I expected, and I thought it'd be amusing to surprise you." He looks around at the stacks of books. "Your collection has grown quite a bit since I was last here..."
Cian
"More work means I need more specific books - and more work means I have more money to purchase them." Cian smiles quietly, and leans in to press a soft kiss to Simon's lips, before pulling away to go dig out whatever bottle of whiskey Simon left here last. He finds it eventually, and even brings a glass back with it.
"I have a case for manuscripts and other things that need climate control in my bedroom. There's - obviously - no room for it in here," he continues with a smile, and kisses Simon again, soft and sweet. For as long as the man will let him before whiskey is more important.
Simon
"You've been working hard," he murmurs, lips twitching upwards a bit with approval. "You'll have to show me the manuscripts."
He sets the wrapped box down on top of a stack carefully, then turns back to take the glass--and snagging Cian's arm with his other hand, drawing him in close to return the kiss. His head tips into it, drawing it out.
Then his head tips back, not quite pulling away, but lifting the glass to take a slow sip from. He eyes Cian over the top of the glass. "Mm. It's good to be back." That almost sounds like I missed you.
Cian
"It sounds like you may have missed me, Simon." Cian's lips curl upward into a teasing smile, and he slides his arm around the mortal's waist, tugging him toward the couch.
And then proceeding to carefully move the stacked books on it to the floor, so there's enough room for the both of them to sit. He even clears away a little space on the side table for Simon to set his glass down.
"What's in the box?"
Simon
He sips down whiskey before he settles in beside Cian, sitting close enough that their sides and thighs are resting against each other's. "...Perhaps I did," he says softly, resting his hand on Cian's thigh. "It's a gift for you, of course. Do you really think I wouldn't bring back a souvenir?"
Cian
Cian warms, as they sit together - literally. He's just remembered to Blush, finally, which does mean that Simon's been kissing rather cool, greyish lips. But no more, as his face gains a little color, and then a rush of pink as he blushes.
"...Oh." From the way he blinks, and the genuine surprise in his voice, he maybe really did think that Simon wouldn't have brought him anything back. Or the possibility just hadn't crossed his mind. "In that case..."
He reaches to grab the box, and unwraps it carefully, as if to save whatever wrapping paper - which means it may take longer than it strictly needs to, for him to get it open. "You know you didn't have to get me anything..." he murmurs as he does, and glances at the other man.
Simon
"What good is money if you can't give your lover the occasional gift?" he says airily, flitting his hand--then downing more whiskey. He gets about half way through whatever had been poured, then sets it aside to watch Cian open the box.
Inside is an old, old naval compass. With some examination, probably dating from the early 1600s. It looks like it's been recently restored, but signs of water damage are still notable. Likely was under water for quite some time. It's been placed inside a new polished wooden box.
Cian
"...Oh." Sorry Simon, 1000% of Cian's focus is on this compass, now. He takes minutes, silent minutes, examining the thing by eye, turning the box its housed in every which way.
"I want to meet...whoever restored this...incredible job..." he gropes toward the side table for a cloth that's crumpled up on top of one of the stacks of books, and wipes his hands on it before carefully, ever so carefully, picking the compass up to look at even more closely.
"Who did this?" His voice is full of wonder, eyes sparkling with delight as he turns to Simon.
Simon
"It's from the Nuestra Señora de Atocha," Simon says boastfully. A very famous ship wreck that Cian likely has some knowledge of. "I had the opportunity to look over some of the emeralds and jewelry recovered from the ship, but then I noticed this poor neglected hunk of metal and thought you might enjoy is more." He leans back in the couch, arm draping over the back of the couch behind Cian.
"A german restorer. He's quite skilled. I could introduce you, if you were interested. He specializes in recovered artifacts from sunken ships."
Cian
"Oh Christ," Cian breathes. "This - thank you. I'd love to be introduced someday, he sounds fascinating, this...Christ." He chuckles a little helplessly, and sets the compass back in its box, absently running his fingers along the lid, his gaze still glued to the thing. "I need a proper display for it..." the Kindred falls silent, clearly thinking, his entire attention narrowed to the intricate bits of wood and metal and glass in his hands. He may have forgotten Simon is even there.
Simon
Simon doesn't interrupt Cian's thoughts. He seems content to lay back and enjoy the fruits of his gift-giving, watching Cian closely. He does finish off the whiskey, though.
After a few minutes, his fingertips lightly brush over the back of Cian's hair and neck.
Cian
The Kindred starts slightly in surprise at the touch, and he flushes to the tips of his ears as he looks over to Simon. "I'm sorry, I got very lost in my thoughts..." One more wistful look at the compass and he sets it aside, and turns more fully to the man sitting next to him. "It's wonderful. You're wonderful -"
He kisses Simon instead of continuing to speak, sliding a hand up into his hair. It's slow, and lingering, and he's maybe trying to thank him this way, too.
"I...haven't gotten you anything but myself, I'm afraid, though I've traveled a bit less than you. I don't know that my attempts at gift-giving would be particularly well received, anyway." His tone is teasing, and he runs a finger down Simon's chest. "What do you get a man who can give his lovers early seventeenth-century artifacts that have been painstakingly restored?"
Simon
"Mm, I am," he agrees smugly, then leans into the kiss, his hand curling around the back of Cian's neck to keep him close, fingers flexing.
"It's alright. It's true, most anything I want, I can just take," he says with a little devilish quirk of his lips, the words sounding awfully dirty.
Cian
"If I remember correctly, I had to pursue you for some time before you even admitted interest in 'taking'," Cian mutters, and kisses him again, his teeth catching Simon's lips. Not fangs yet, just a little reminder that he could, if he wanted.
January 4, 2022
Simon
"It's called playing hard to get," he teases, gripping Cian's chin in his other hand. Because yes it definitely was The Plan all along, you totally do not have committment/emotional issues, Simon. "It seems to have sufficiently lured you in."
Cian
"There's a fine line between 'hard to get' and 'unwilling to entertain the idea of emotional intimacy'..." Cian purrs, his grin turning a little wicked as he leans back in, just barely not kissing the man.
Simon
He scoffs softly. "No idea what you're talking about..." he murmurs, then shifts so he's laying down on the couch, pulling Cian over him, and down into a harder kiss.
Cian
"This couch is not big enough for this," Cian huffs out a laugh as he's pulled in, but he doesn't resist, and smiles as he wraps his arms around Simon, settling against the man with a contented sigh as he returns the kiss with equal passion. "Thank you for surprising me -" he murmurs when he pulls away, still close enough that their lips brush, "with yourself and the present. I'm glad you're home."
There's no need for Simon to answer - or Cian doesn't really let him, at least, as he tangles his hands in his hair, his kisses intense and desperate.
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