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WHO: Faolan & Laurent
WHERE: Laurent (and Faolan's) swanky apartment
WHEN: Monday, September 25th
WHAT: Ros was right, Faolan really needs to have that talk with Laurent.
WARNINGS: Mention of adult themes, will edit if/when necessary

It's been a while since Faolan's conversation with Rosalind about what he should do about this. Ten days, give or take. Ten days for Faolan to have the thought of it rattle around in his brain and take root. Ten days for Faolan to make even more mistakes with the younger man, to put his foot in his mouth, to hurt him, and why? Because he's sensitive, to what this is. To the fact that it isn't. That Laurent seems to be content to pretend that it never happened while Faolan can't seem to get the thought of it out of his head.

He follows Laurent to and from his classes, to and from his social obligations. He stands watch from the sidelines as he has lunch with friends -- that is, he assumes they are friends, but they could be more, this could be a date and he wouldn't have any say in that either. Because the truth of the matter is they slept together once, when Laurent was lonely and Faolan was there, and Laurent hasn't so much as batted an eyelash in his direction despite knowing Faolan's affections for him in turn. And the more that he stands watch, stands guard, stands silent, makes mistakes, puts his foot in it, the less he can take it. He knows that if he doesn't listen to Rosalind's advice he knows he might just make a mistake there won't be any coming back from.

So he waits until they've made it back to the apartment from Laurent's class. Lingering in the kitchen, fetching himself a water bottle as Laurent settles his things. Waiting for him to return to the main area, and wishing that he could fetch himself a stronger drink. He has a feeling he's going to need it...

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Laurent is blissfully unaware of Faolan's concerns, and thus busying himself unpacking his MacBook and folders -- arranging handouts carefully on a desk and shrugging off his jacket. This early on in the term the classes aren't running terribly late, so it's too early for Laurent to be thinking about eating. All the same he could do with at least a drink to keep himself going before he loses momentum.

Setting his bag aside and straightening a last few bits of paper he crosses into the kitchen and begins to heat some water, rummaging around in the cupboard for a teabag.

"Will you be heading down to the gym?"

For an evening swim, perhaps, or just to punch a bag until he;s decompressed for the day.

"Maybe later," Faolan replies, for in truth there is a chance that he might need to run away and punch something (or drown himself, only time will tell).

He watches Laurent move around the kitchen to start his tea and contemplates this conversation. Contemplates Laurent. There has to be a reason that the younger man has reacted in such a way to him as this. A reason why he would invite him into such a thing as sleeping with him, only to pretend after the fact as if nothing had happened between them. Not that Laurent had been denying the incident, of course. Nor did he seem particularly ashamed of it. And yet he had not so much as batted an eye in Faolan's direction since.

Had it really only been that he'd been lonely? Desperate? Had Faolan really only fulfilled a temporary desire? A one-time occurrence that Faolan is now expected to forget? Is it really so easy as that for Laurent, Faolan wonders, his eyes trained on the younger man, his pale skin and his light curls a ghost in his memory as he watches him prepare his tea.

Laurent nods, setting a teabag in his cup and waiting for the water to boil before carefully filling it up. The sweet smell of lemon & ginger tea begins to fill the kitchen, and after a moment Laurent pulls down a small jar of honey to begin stirring in.

He most definitely heard someone coughing in the lecture theatre today, and is preemptively beginning to do everything he can to ward off germs.

School environments are the worst for catching diseases.

"I have some reading to finish. Do you mind if I play music?"

Over the sound system, that is. Faolan hasn't specified what he intends to do, and if it is something that requires peace and quiet Laurent is happy to use headphones instead.

Edited 2017-09-25 22:25 (UTC)

Music while he reads. Faolan thinks about speaking up, to admit that actually, he has something he needs to say. But just the thought of it, just letting himself out with it, is easier said than done.

"I -- yeah, sure," he says, stumbling over his words and kicking himself almost as soon as he's spoken. Ah, well. He supposes he could use a little while longer to get himself together. Would Laurent notice if he poured himself a drink, he wonders? Even if he did, would he even care?

Giving the tea a last stir Laurent drops the teaspoon into the sink and extracts the teabag to place in the little kitchen recycling bin, picks up the mug and glances over at the other man. Faolan looks a little uncertain, but Laurent finds he cannot really pinpoint why.

"I'll keep it quiet," Laurent offers, just in case it's over the music, and walks back over to the living room. He prompts the home device with a few words of French and soon the slightly muted sound of music begins to fill the room. Laurent settles himself on the sofa and blows cautiously on his drink, drawing a sheaf of paper toward himself and studying it thoughtfully as he tries to decide on the best approach to filing things.

Faolan watches Laurent for a long moment, as Laurent folds himself onto the sofa and sets his papers out in front of him, the soft sound of a technobeat filling the apartment as a look of concentration settles onto his face. He's not certain that it's really the right atmosphere to be setting, but he did say that Laurent could play it.

He turns from the younger man for a second, running his hand over his face and reaching for another glass from the cupboard and crossing the kitchen to fetch a bottle of whiskey. Pouring himself a glass and taking a healthy swallow before glancing back at Laurent and trying to decide just how he wants to go about this. He hovers in the kitchen for a whole tumbler of whiskey, in fact, as Laurent works and ignores him and he wishes that the younger man made this easier for him.

But nothing worth it ever comes without effort he supposes, and so after he tops up his glass for a second time, he forces himself out from behind the breakfast bar and across the room to where the younger man sits. Unable to take a seat on the table where he usually perches as Laurent has spread his homework across the space and so he awkwardly settles himself into a chair beside him instead.

Edited 2017-09-26 00:54 (UTC)

Laurent glances up absently as Faolan comes to sit beside him, eyes dropping back to his paper almost instantly before the fact that Faolan is holding a glass of what seems like alcohol in his hand registers.

His eyes lift again to it and frowns.

"Are you celebrating soemthing?" He prompts, "Or drowning a misery of some sort? I hadn't thought my classes so bad."

He supposes to someone uninterested they might be heavy going, but he hadn't thought it enough to drive Faolan to drink.

Faolan startles for a moment at Laurent's commentary, glancing down at the glass in his hand before guiltily up at the younger man in turn.

"No, it's not -- I mean, your classes aren't exactly... What I might have chosen for myself, but. They're not so bad as that," he reassures. He can't exactly come out and admit to Laurent that he's poured himself some liquid courage either.

"Look I, ehm. Are you busy?" he asks, before realizing it's a stupid question. Of course he is, he's doing his readings for class, Faolan even knows that. He winces slightly before speaking up again to continue, "I mean. No. Can we talk?"

Talk?

The combination of asking to talk mixed with Faolan's drinking fills Laurent with a slow, stomach-clenching sense of dread. He clamps down on it, straightens his papers and lets his frown stay in place as he retrieves his mug and turns a little more toward the other man.

"Of course. Is something wrong?"

Laurent's mind is working overtime on worst-case scenarios. Faolan has quit. Faolan has been fired. Faolan has remember something awful. Laurent's brother has been in an accident. Laurent's brother is injured or dead. Laurent has to fly back for the funeral.

Wrong? It's a complicated question, and Faolan hesitates for a moment, grappling with the suggestion of it, before shrugging slightly. Is something wrong? In a matter of speaking, he supposes it is. Which is why they have to talk in the first place, even if the suggestion of it is like pulling teeth. Faolan really isn't much for talking. Not that he doesn't like to, but he's not very good at it. Certainly not about himself. Certainly not when the conversations matter.

"I." He takes a deep breath in and lets it out slowly, glancing down at the glass between his hands because it's easier than meeting Laurent's eyes at the moment. "I don't know what you want from me," he says at last, the words weighing like lead in his gut as he drags them forth to sit uncomfortably in the air between them.

Laurent's eyebrows jerk up at that, surprised and curious both. At least this is perhaps less dire than he thought, although the first two options are still on the table. Faolan may be about to admit hes going to quit because of what happened between them, or that he's been fired.

"What I want from you?" he prompts, and takes a sip of his tea. Perhaps better to let Faolan expand on things before he jumps to conclusions.

Faolan sits forward, running a hand through his hair as he fights to gather his thoughts. Of course Laurent wouldn't make this easy for him, though he supposes he's hardly making it easy for himself either.

"I... Yes," he replies, helplessly. "You... We. I didn't make that decision lightly, you know. I hope you know, anyway. But I don't know... I don't know what you want from me. From here." He glances up at the younger man, and he can only imagine the look in his eye as he does. "We slept together, Laurent." It's not a memory he will forget any time soon.

Ah. Laurent studies Faolan a long moment before letting his eyes skip down to the tea in thought, smoothing out his expression to something unreadable.

"If you're concerned about your job..." he begins. "You can consider it safe."

He wasn't about to tell his brother, nor anyone else for that matter.

Faolan lets out a breath, glancing down into his own glass himself. It isn't that he's afraid for his job, which is an odd thought to realize. The fact that Laurent has allowed things to return to normal is almost a reassurance of that. But because they have returned to as they were before, now he is afraid of his desires. Afraid of everything he wants, now that he has allowed himself to want it. Now that he has allowed himself a taste of it. And yes, he supposes that that does affect his job, in some regards. Especially if he were to let things continue down this road. It has already affected more than a few arguments of theirs, after all.

"That's not -- it's not that," he says. "It's not. Just that. This." He gestures at Laurent with his free hand. "Am I just. What, exactly? A bodyguard? A bodyguard you sleep with? A bodyguard that you slept with?" He raises his gaze to search the other man's face. "One night, when you needed someone, and now that the nightmare has passed...?"

Ah.

Laurent feels himself begin to freeze up for a wholly different reason. Rather than stomach-clenching dread that harm will come to, or may have come to, his brother or Faolan himself this is something altogether different.

He forces himself to lift his eyes to Faolan and keep his gaze steady.

Don't flinch.

"I realise," he begins carefully, "there is a risk of complication here. The risk of a..." Laurent hesitates, gives a slow blink. "Not a conflict of interest, exactly, but a... risk you will not be objective. I understand that. I accept the blame in this."

Edited (Typo) 2017-09-27 09:18 (UTC)

"A risk," Faolan repeats, unable to keep himself from feeling a little incredulous at the suggestion. "It has been complicated from the start. I tried to tell you as much." But Laurent had insisted on how simple he wanted it, to simply take him to bed and Faolan, in his weakness, had done exactly that.

"I am a professional," he continues. "I am good at my job, good at what I do. I've done my best to keep watch over you and in a professional capacity nothing there has changed. But my position here -- whatever this is with you -- it hasn't been objective for weeks now. Not when." He swallows thickly, but forces himself to get the words out. "Not when we share so much. Professionally or otherwise. So I need to -- I need you to tell me. If there is an issue with that. If you have an issue with that. With me."

An issue? Laurent's expression dips into a slight frown again.

"Faolan I have no issue with you. I promise your job is secure."

Has he not already made that clear? Yet all the same he can feel that Faolan is distressed.

Again, a professional reassurance. Faolan lets out a sound that is half frustration and half disbelief. He feels like he's about to crawl out of his skin. It's hard enough to force the words out, never mind to have to clarify for himself.

"My job," he repeats. "Laurent, it isn't... This goes beyond my job, and it has done the moment you invited me into your bed." Figuratively speaking, of course, since technically it had been Faolan's bed, but that is neither here nor there.

Beyond his job. Laurent takes another sip of his drink, frown still in place. Faolan seems frustrated but he honestly can't quite grasp what it is he's asking.

"My answer remains the same. I have no issue with you, Faolan. What is this about?"

Has he said something to offend him? Something to make him think that he dislikes him in some way?

Faolan runs his hand through his hair, his fingers tightening there for a moment as he forces himself to take a deep breath and try to keep it together. He isn't certain whether he can do this. He isn't certain whether he can be direct enough to ask the answers of the younger man that he really desires. He knows that he can't just leave it hanging though. Not without consequences -- for either of them.

He picks his head up out of his hands and glances back up at the other man miserably as he forces himself to speak up again. "It's. I just. I need to know. Your expectations. What you want from me. What you don't. That is --" He swallows audibly, pausing a moment, before raising his glass and downing the remaining drink in one go. Liquid courage indeed, he thinks to himself, as the alcohol burns down his throat and gives him just enough of a kick to continue.

"I will not easily forget -- the things that we did. And if it is not something that you care to repeat then that is something you must let me know so that I can--... Accommodate."

Ah, so it is what he suspected. Laurent had thought this was where Faolan had been going but somewhere in the middle his intentions had become unclear. Pursing his lips Laurent considers this carefully, considers Faolan.

It's difficult. There's a distinct difference, after all, between what is sensible and what might be enjoyable. There always is.

"I have no wish to make this intolerably complicated for you," he says finally. "I know I was... selfish, in asking this of you at all."

So surely Faolan wants to forget it, to go back to how things were? To limit the danger to his job?

Faolan feels at once upon hearing Laurent's response so surprised, so confused, and so frustrated he could scream. Unable to settle on any one reaction he merely stares at the younger man for a long moment, trying to make sense of Laurent's words as, despite Laurent's reassurances that his position at his side is not in jeopardy, another rock of fear settles into his stomach.

"...I don't know what you think it was that happened on that night, but my hesitation had nothing to do with any lack of desire to agree with your offers, and everything to do with the fact that I know myself, and I knew that --" Faolan swallows thickly, looking down into his empty glass. "I. My attentions. My affections for you. Were they just -- convenient for you in that moment? Is that what..."

Convenient? The question strikes Laurent oddly, and he can't be sure if that is due to a language barrier or if Faolan means it the way it feels.

"Yes," he says quietly. "I suppose they were. Convenient. I find it convenient to have someone I trust nearby. When I dream of strangers restraining me in dark rooms I find it convenient to have those people close enough to reassure me. When I wake up from those dreams miles from any place I feel safe I find it convenient to have nearby who I know would protect me without a second thought. And when I want to forget how alone I was in that dream I find it convenient to have someone nearby who can remind me I'm not alone now. What are you actually asking me, Faolan?"

Trust. Someone he trusts, to reassure him. Someone who he knows would protect him without a second thought. Who can remind him that he's not alone. Faolan's eyebrows furrow, his expression softening at Laurent's words. He hadn't known -- all of that. Not explicitly, at least. Not in such a way as Laurent had simply laid it out for him.

He regards the younger man carefully for a long moment before he can think of anything to say. What is he asking him? What is he asking him?

"I." He stops himself, licking his lips nervously before pressing them together. This is a terrible idea, of course, but he is beyond that. He's been beyond that for weeks now. Maybe longer still. "I want to be there for you," he replies, quietly. "In. Every way that I can. I'm asking you what you want from me, Laurent. I. I enjoyed. Our time together. If that is something that has a chance of happening again, I want. I would like to know. And if it is something you would never care to repeat then. I. I need to know that too."

This is -- difficult. Laurent flexes his fingers around his mug, considering Faolan. Considering his words and all the reasons this really is a bad idea.

"Are you sure about that? If you change your mind you'll still be living with me for some time, even if you ask to go back to Paris and have someone else work here you'll be around my brother. If you quit us all together there's a chance rumours might follow your career about why."

He takes a slow sip of the tea, thoughtful. Faolan is driven by emotions, but Laurent is pragmatic enough to know that feelings come and go. There's danger in making a decision driven by them, and he has no intention of allowing Faolan to ruin his life over an infatuation that might fade.

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