Log; Complete

[bitingnightmare.livejournal.com]

When; Dec. 25 (evening)
Rating; PG ♥
Characters; Boy Blue playstheblues, the Corinthian bitingnightmare
Summary; A song draws the nightmare out of hiding in search of the blues (otherwise known as a Vertigo Christmas Special).
Log;

People didn't know how hard the trumpet was to actually play. Pinocchio always gave him a hard time about never hitting the right notes, but what did Pinocchio know about music? He could barely go a day without a drink.

Boy Blue played the song again. He had gone to Cori's apartment, but hadn't been able to go to the door - he saw through the window, after passing several times, that the nightmare was obviously not home. So he trudged through the snow to the Drowning Pool, because it was quiet and peaceful and he was sure not to get interrupted by roommates or well-wishers or Prince Charming, and played the song he wrote for Cori a couple of times.

He wasn't even sure how it happened. Normally he was more cautious, but like with Ride, it had hit him unsuspecting like a shot between the eyes. The song had some pretty melodies but a sad underline, and with an alto sax it would play perfectly.

Blue could almost hear it.

Saya had been the last known acquaintance to see his face. Cori had taken Delilah out Sunday night and not returned since then. For those few days he traveled alone with her, risking injury to the motorcycle and himself on those icy slick streets. He'd spent his nights in the studio's apartment, barren and almost liberating. The Corinthian hadn't gone back nor spied on the trio for any developments regarding their interrogation of the Irishman.

The nightmare just didn't want to know, regardless of what he felt for the trumpet player. He'd felt enough to craft a gift for Blue, enough that Blue was the only person he'd kept in mind. It wasn't fair to everyone else, particularly those who'd been his company for over a year in the City. Maybe that's why he'd failed to present the gift to him.

By Christmas Day however, he felt the need to just see the golden boy, to see how he was doing with Rose, his friends from his homeworld, a smile. Cori was short on those lately (he knew why). With that in mind, he'd set out on Delilah again in search of Blue. His first few passes by Apartment 56 yielded nothing, and discretely he left without ever letting the others know he'd been there.

Of course, the nightmare thought to himself, he shouldn't have expected the blonde to wait for him. Only the sound of a faint and almost melancholy song brought him to the forest. Briefly, he expected to see wolves as he walked Delilah towards the frozen lake.

A chill ran down his neck. Toothy eyes caught sight of Boy Blue there. Fucking Boy Blue and his fucking luck. The Corinthian frowned briefly, unsure of how to interrupt

Blue played the song again, then stopped - his instincts, a reflex, told him to stop and look behind him, and Boy Blue trusted himself enough to do so. He turned and looked up at the lines of the Corinthian's body, and a smile lit up his face for a moment. "Hi," he said softly, turning back to the lake. He set his horn down and adjusted his scarf. "It's pretty tonight."

It was pretty. It was like the Homelands - that was another reason that Boy Blue liked the lake - frosted in snow and pretty as a postcard. It was serene and soft and like his own Homeland, which had been surrounded in peace for a very long time before the Adversary. They were memories that Blue could barely recall, but they were his just the same.

He turned back to the Corinthian. "Will you sit down next to me, or do I have to get up?"

"Hi," the nightmare replied when Blue broke the silence. Sometimes he was extremely grateful for his teeth and sunglasses; it made reading his expression all the more difficult.

He appeared almost sheepish as he walked Delilah down to where Blue sat. Cori kicked her stand out and let the bike fall into a lean. He wasn't dressed all that much differently despite the snowfall, jeans, a long sleeved button down shirt, his jacket, well a scarf and gloves too. Should anyone ask, Cori cited the windchill.

"I'll sit," he nodded as he approached the other then took a seat next to him, close but not touching. "It's always pretty, they pride themselves on upkeep," smirked the Corinthian. The postcard picturesque scene reminded him of Gilbert.

Blue picked up his horn again, unsure how to mention the present, and unsure how to start the song. Finally he just began, the opening notes perfect despite his gloves, the arc swinging into a soft bouncing melody, then another few notes softening the song up. It was typical blues; Blue didn't write words but he could almost hear the repeating refrain.

He swung up when the song hit the fastest tempo, standing and playing, and when he finished he sat back down. He scratched his head in confusion. "It really needs a sax," he explained. "And it's not finished, I didn't have time to finish it." It had been a challenge, penning his feelings in song. That probably had something to do with the fact that his feelings weren't crystal clear, they didn't pin down easily.

He liked the Corinthian. It was obvious in how much time he wanted to spend with the other man, how he wanted to make him happy. He felt for the Corinthian things he hadn't felt for Ride - there was depth to the relationship past bandaging and saving her.

But he wished that the other man had more faith in him. He wished that he didn't feel like John's shadow was over him. He wished that...he wished that he knew if the nightmare felt the same way he did.

"Merry Christmas. I'm sorry my gift wasn't showier, or at least finished."

The Corinthian tilted his head briefly when Blue started his song again. He recognized the melody, the same song the blonde had been playing prior to his arrival. Cori listened, picking up the uncertainty of the arrangement as well but uncertain himself if this were intentional. His toothy gaze lifted when Boy Blue stood. He wanted to join him, already filling in the empty spaces with notes from his saxophone in his mind, but Cori remained seated, the audience. Ah, so it was arranged for two.

"I like it," the white horror nodded, then gestured with an open hand, "I've got a sax." He smiled, he knew Blue knew he had one. "No, don't worry about that. Thank you..." Cori said quietly, almost humbled by the gift. Those teeth eyes half-lidded behind his dark shades. He liked the golden boy, more than just for his handsome looks and his sexual naiveté. He liked Blue's time and company.

"I'm sorry I wasn't around the last few days," said the Corinthian while averting his gaze. He rubbed the back of his head. "I needed some time alone," the correct word was wanted, "... I have a present for you."

Blue smiled, knowing that Cori would understand the missing half of the song, the incompleteness of the arrangement, and not make snide comments about slicing his wrists open (like Pinocchio once had, the brat). His smile widened and he wrapped his arms around the Corinthian's neck and pressed a kiss to the other man's cheek. "We can try it out soon, right?" he asked, smiling, his fingers going over the notes on his trusty horn.

At the second comment, Blue settled back, pulling gloves tight over his iced hands. He had to protect them from the cold, after all, and he adjusted his scarf. It wasn't nervous fidgeting as much as it was simple composure. "It's okay," he said. "I sort of needed time too." After Baba Yaga, honestly, he needed to be by himself, to regain himself. She shook him up more than he thought.

"Do you really?" He asked, genuinely surprised; he never got presents. "What is it?"

The gesture took him by surprise and for a moment the Corinthian almost lost his balance. He reached up to press his hand against Blue's arms, holding on to him rather than protesting his kiss. Still, he had an image to maintain. "Cool it. Yeah, we can try it soon. I'll need your sheets," he replied and smiled. Pleasant company.

He only nodded in response to their mutual need for separation. Baba Yaga's shadow was just as persuasive as the shadow belonging to a man who wasn't even there.

"I do. The little lady's carrying it," Cori hooked a thumb over his shoulder then stood to retrieve a small white box from Delilah's compartment. It even had blue and gold ribbon tied around it, but without the fussiness of spirals. He offered the box to Blue as he reclaimed his seat. "Here."

Inside was a mix of soft candied citron and almond nougat comfits.

It had been the sight of Riding Hood who wasn't Riding Hood, who wasn't the girl who he had fallen in love with, who had never been his to begin with that shook him up. She had used him and he had been a fool enough to be used, even when he suspected, even when he should have said something. Baba Yaga was a nightmare for more reasons than just the obvious ones. Fear had driven him to a real nightmare now, but he couldn't face Cori with her face in his head.

Blue opened the box and laughed when he saw the insides. "Ohhh, thank you," he gushed, his smile genuine for the first time in days. Only people who knew the young-seeming Fable would notice the difference. "They smell fantastic..." Blue took one and put it between his lips, then chewed thoughtfully. "They're great! Where did you get them? I've been looking everywhere!"

He tucked them away in his coat pocket, and whispered another soft and honest thank you.

He knew the story as much as Blue was willing to share with him, of the girl who had always been a stranger to him. First love. Cori himself had wondered if the young soldier would consider him a passing phase. So far it didn't seem likely.

"You're welcome," the nightmare nodded again, glad to see Blue pleased with his gift. Now it came down to the taste. Despite it being his first attempt at brewing candy, Cori thought he'd done an exceptional job. The citron tasted tangy but not overpowering, the almond comfits a little hard from the weather but still soft on the inside. Not bad, and worth the minor mess he made in the studio's kitchen.

"I made them," he admitted casually.

It was a story, like the story about the Corinthian's former flame, that might never get told in its entirety. If it had been up to Blue, Cori would never have known that Ride existed. She was Fly's girl now, anyway. Blue had never known her to begin with.

Blue smiled up at Cori and at the revelation that the nightmare had made them, Blue's mouth hinged open just a big, his lips forming a curling, soft pout that he was a bit famous for in Fabletown. "You made them? They're incredible! Can you make more? I mean..." Blue trailed off. "You're really good. I knew you could cook, but I didn't know you could make candy." The soft pout remained, more a sign of awe than a sign of displeasure.

"Yeah, I made them," he repeated, chin up with a bit more confidence this time. It sounded like Blue enjoyed the candy and his culinary confectionary prowess. His reaction validated his pride. Cori smirked at the younger man again, noting the pout of his lips. Soft tasteful lips. "I'll make more for you. That was the best of the batch, but I'll get the hang of it."

"I'd really like that," Blue said, offering his hand but not taking the initiative to take Cori's. It was a strange kind of game - maybe because it wasn't a game. It was knowing that the other was delicate and never bringing it up, never acting on the thought, but always being aware of it. Blue recognized it for what it was.

He really wanted a kiss. He really wanted that, more than holding Cori's hand, just like he wanted his muscles screaming for him to end a fight - that was always, he had wanted that since he left the Homelands, as much as he wanted to be a mild, unassuming clerk. But the Corinthian gave him that; affection and sparring, a blend of both.

He wanted the Corinthian.

"Me too," he said to Blue somewhat ambiguously. He took his hand.

Cori wanted to make more of the comfits for him because it delighted the golden boy, a different kind of delight from that of the battlefield. He could see a genuine appreciation for the sweets, as if they were a comfort food. He wanted to see Blue happy, to see that honest smile of a wartorn young man who could take his past for what it was, take the steps necessary for the future he wanted to build, and still play his tunes knowing there was no true black or white way about it.

Boy Blue was entirely different from the old man, but they both had the same outlook; human. For all his years, hundreds of them spent in losing battles, Blue had maintained his humanity. He didn't think another thousand could do away with it. Secretly the Corinthian hoped not. The nightmare had become a creature of cruelty once unleashed into the Waking World; Boy Blue remained gold.

He gave Blue's hand a squeeze then pulled the blonde in for a kiss, deep but chaste.

Blue returned the kiss enthusiastically and licked his lips when they parted, ducking his head with a smile. He squeezed Cori's hand and leaned his hatted head on the nightmare's leather clad shoulder, and relaxed there.

"Merry Christmas, Cori."

Cori pulled the glove off his hand and raised it to that hatted head, palm over the blonde hair showing from under the brim. Then he brushed his bare fingers down along Blue's cheek to cradle the side of his face. His immortal youth made his heavy experiences as a fighter virtually unwritten in lines and creases.

"Merry Christmas, Blue," the nightmare said quietly, his fingertips not as cold as usual.