log; complete

[haroicsacrifice.livejournal.com]

When; Evening of November 12th.
Rating; PG
Characters; Lockon Stratos (haroicsacrifice) and Tieria Erde (worthier)
Summary; In which Tieria cannot handle his (accidental) liquor, and certain revelations about the nature of a relationship are made.
Log;

One last burst of warmth before November gives way to autumnal chill. Lockon's taking advantage of that without explicitly mentioning why--he wants to be warm, as much as he ever can be here, but he doesn't want Tieria to worry. So he gives Tieria little chance to protest before sweeping him out on a date to a fancy coffee and chocolate bar on the edges of the square. Of course, neither of them would call it a date, but certainly a good few of the people who see them there would think they are: smiling at each other, Tieria staying as close as he can to Lockon to give him warmth. It's not a thought that occurs to Lockon, anyway.

Once they're seated at a window table, Lockon takes the time to point out all the different desserts on the menu, explaining to Tieria which ones are probably too sweet for him and which ones might be just right. "Maybe the dark chocolate mousse, or the fondue, with different fruits--that's kind of healthy, right? Or maybe you should just start with this torte." He doesn't think to explain the different coffees to Tieria. Coffee is coffee, right?

After a while, he gets up. "I'm going to go look at the chocolates. Maybe I'll get some to take back to the apartment with us. You order whatever you want. Just get a decaf coffee for me." And so, oblivious to any impending doom, he leaves Tieria to himself for just a few minutes.



Eyes studying the menu and absorbing all of Lockon's wise suggestions with all the attentiveness of taking in a new mission plan, Tieria nods -- a simple thing, but one more little action that speaks of his progress over the years. "I'll decide momentarily." Reluctantly watching him go but satisfied that he won't be in critical need of body heat with the constant temperature of this room, he refocuses himself on the list to see a somewhat intriguing choice: Irish coffee. It's clearly an opportunity to experience a small piece of Lockon's culture, even if it was suspiciously absent from his selection earlier -- this was some variation of his tendency to dismiss certain aspects of himself, most likely. Mind made up, Tieria orders for both of them when prompted (also having to be prompted for forfeiting that menu to the waiter; customary table behavior was still far from routine), and patiently waits.



By the time Lockon returns, a small gilt box wrapped in a red ribbon in his hands, the choice has already been made. Tieria's fate is sealed. "This place is good," he assures Tieria with a smile. "Whatever you got, you'll enjoy it." He has no idea how right he is as he chatters away: "I got some dark chocolate truffles for you to try, and some dulce de leche chocolates for Setsuna. That's milk chocolate with milk caramel in it! He'll love it."

Tieria's orders were simple, and so it's just a few short minutes before the waiter arrives with their coffees. Tieria's doesn't look noticeably different than Lockon's, except that it's in a slightly fancier mug. Lockon gives it a glance and smiles; Tieria probably got some kind of fancy mocha. "Let me know how you like it, Tieria."



A wry smile crosses Tieria's face for just a second when Lockon sits back down and explains; gestures like these are always to be expected. "I didn't assume you would choose a place with poor standards," he admits without hesitation.

Then the drinks are placed beside them and Tieria takes an exploratory sip... maybe too much, because savory as the rich and smoky concoction is, it burns on its way down his throat. He sets his mug down with a muted clank, and anyone can most likely notice the slight flushed expression he's taking on as he tries to formulate a response.

"... Unexpected," he manages, letting in a breath and fully composing himself before he continues, "but not unpleasant."



A softer smile flickers across Lockon's face. "You wouldn't, would you?" He still, after all this time (how had it been so much time, when he'd died mere days after Tieria had changed? The City made so much so different), wasn't sure how he felt about the way Tieria always assumed the best of him. So he simply tried not to think about it, even now.

He sips his own coffee, looking up just in time to see Tieria's strange expression. "What a reaction!" He laughs a little. "Maybe caffeine gets the best of you after all."

Hey, give him time. He'll figure out it's not just caffeine eventually--probably sooner rather than later. But by then, Tieria may be well on his way to quite drunk.



Tieria blinks. "I simply hadn't anticipated it tasting this way, given the chemical makeup. I'll be fine." True, he didn't know whether anything other than caffeine dominated this drink, and he may not know what it tastes like anyway, but alcohol would be the last thing to ever cross his mind. If Lockon had taken them to that kind of establishment, he'd at least warn him first.

Suddenly very eager to prove that he's satisfied with his order, he resumes, finding it easier to drink in quicker succession each time. It's an odd thing. A mixture like this one should typically cause heightened alertness in the brain, which doesn't explain why he's beginning to feel so... relaxed, for lack of a better term. Once his glass is a bit less than half full, he's got his elbows rested on the tabletop with his hands supporting his chin (not unusual in itself, but it's a different story for people who know him even in passing), quietly fixated on the creamy top that was never this hypnotic before.



"Given the chemical makeup?" Now Lockon is curious. "You can tell how something will taste based on that?" He laughs a little, sipping his own coffee. "You've got some sharp senses there. But that's useful!"

The next time he sets his own mug down, though, he can tell something's wrong. "Yo, Tieria!" He reaches out to lay one cool gloved hand against Tieria's flushed cheek (another gesture easily misinterpreted by the people around them, half of whom probably haven't even realized Tieria is male in the first place). "If you're not feeling well, we should--"

Oh. That's when it dawns on him. With a quick gesture, he swaps their coffees; then he takes a sip of Tieria's. Sure enough... "Tieria! Why did you order an Irish coffee?" But he has a sinking feeling he knows why.



Here he tilts his head at Lockon's amusement, narrowing his eyes in a somehow comical fashion. "Regardless, I already read what made caffeine. What makes caffeine." No matter how quickly he catches himself, it's a noticeable slip coming from him. "Strange. I can't recall the last time I made such grammatical errors." It's said just a little too casually.

Then Lockon pulls his coffee away, and he mildly protests. "I was looking at that--"

But at the leathery sensation on his cheek, Tieria's current train of thought is terminated, and when the question finally registers, he stares blankly as if surprised Lockon can't come to the conclusion himself.

"Ah. It's a popular refreshment from your home country." It doesn't take long for his head to lower with an alarmingly vulnerable expression. He all of a sudden isn't quite as aware that they have company. "What did I do wrong?"



For the moment, Lockon's quite forgotten about the other people around them, too. It's not that big a deal, though. No one's watching them too closely--after all, they're just two guys on a date, right? All the same, he pulls his hand away. It feels strangely inappropriate to touch Tieria for too long now, especially his warm face like that.

"I don't think you should have any more," he says firmly. "Have my coffee instead if you like the taste." He doesn't explain himself for another moment, but then he can't resist a little smile. How could anyone not smile at that expression? (It's just a smile; that's all it is. He's not also feeling strange and unidentifiable emotions about that vulnerable look. Not at all.) "It's called Irish coffee," he explains, "because it has whiskey in it." He looks down at the half-empty mug. "You had a whole lot of it, huh? I'd better be careful walking you back to the apartment."



"But this type of establishment isn't supposed to serve alcohol." Not that he disbelieves him, because it certainly explains enough. Also, seeing as Tieria would still sooner interpret the word 'date' without any connotations whatsoever, he'd have agreed. Even if he did take the hints, it could have been debatable, but the important thing is that Lockon is offering too much and that's not acceptable.

"Please have both. You seemed to be enjoying yours, so I'd rather not take it away from you." Though his eyes remain wide at the revelation, he's calmed down now that Lockon's smile has absolved him of any mistakes on his part.

"It was good," he can only answer simply. And perhaps sleepily. "That won't be necessary, I think I can maintain my own balance."



"There are kinds of alcoholic drinks you get mixed with coffee," Lockon says. It's time for some more explaining, this time of the more drug-addled side of humanity. "I didn't realize this place served them, but turns out it does. You're proof of that right now!" And he can't help but laugh a little. Somehow, drunken Tieria is so cute, and he can't quite pin down why. It's a different kind of cute than prickly, secretly vulnerable Tieria was, and Lockon has a feeling if he thinks too long on it he'll wind up somewhere worrisome.

"I'm going to have the rest of your coffee," he says, "so you'd better have some of mine to balance it out." He's confident he can handle half an Irish coffee without much in the way of effects. "You think you can maintain your own balance, huh?" A beat. "Hey, hey. Try standing up."



If it had been anyone else, Tieria would take offense or at least ask why they thought it was funny, but knowing Lockon and he'd never genuinely make fun of him, he's just glad yet surprised that he can elicit laughter from him here.

Understanding that his intake level is almost surely better, Tieria finally concedes with an uncharacteristic noncommital noise, then obediently raises himself to a straight albeit wobbly position. "As I said, it's not difficult at..." Though he starts out with conviction, he trails off due to the very much unwelcome dizziness, forcing himself back down as his hands clutch the table's edge for support. "You were right."



Of course Lockon would make fun of Tieria--but always gently. That hasn't changed. In fact, he might have gotten gentler. It's no wonder Tieria trusts him now not to mock him cruelly--not that Tieria doesn't trust him unconditionally anyway. That's another thing Lockon tries not to think about too much.

He looks on with carefully guarded concern as Tieria attempts to rise from his seat, tensing slightly. He's getting ready to catch Tieria should he fall. Fortunately, it's not necessary. Tieria's still sober enough to know when to sit back down. Lockon relaxes, grinning again. "Don't worry about it, Tieria. This'll be an experience for you. I don't think you'll want to repeat it, but it won't be so bad."

Lockon downs the rest of Tieria's coffee, apparently unaffected by it himself (it might make him a little more relaxed, genuinely so, but only a little--for someone who rarely drinks, he has a good tolerance). Then he stands up. "I'm going to go pay the check. I'll worry about you if we stick around here too much longer."



Tiera leans into the cushioned back of his chair, too far gone by now to manage annoyance at the state he's in. "No, but I trust you to stop me from doing anything foolish. Do you think I'm likely to experience the common after-effects?" For something so counterproductive, Tieria finally has some small understanding of why people indulged themselves with this -- still, it seems to him that the more negative consequences outweigh the positive mood alterations that accompany it.

Watching Lockon take the remaining drink with something resembling admiration (suspicions from before confirmed, he naturally had to be exceptional at nearly all things human), he fumbles a few times on the search for his recently-bought wallet. "Don't pay alone, this is a team effort."



Lockon is more than a little relieved to see that Tieria isn't struggling to resist the effects of the alcohol. He could get hurt that way, after all. "You might or you might not. Some people just don't. But make sure you drink plenty of water, just in case." A drunk Tieria is cute; the thought of a hung-over Tieria just makes Lockon want to wince.

He's about to turn away and head for the counter when Tieria speaks again. "Ah..." That's right, of course. Even if he does want to handle it all himself, he should be glad Tieria is offering. "All right. We'll split it." He contents himself with the knowledge that he's already paid for the box of chocolates, which he now slips into a pocket of his coat. Then he starts to lift one hand in a reassuring finger-gun gesture at Tieria, but for some reason he hesitates at the last moment. Suddenly, he's not sure what gesture he should be making at Tieria.

He goes ahead and makes it anyway. Just because things have gotten kind of weird after all this time doesn't mean he has to change.



He can only let himself surrender to the changes because he knows the capable company he's in, after all. "Of course. The sooner we go home, the more I can rehydrate."

Relieved that Lockon agrees outright (because it's honestly doubtful he can easily reason with him now), Tieria sorts out the money with surprising accuracy, and then the gesture catches his eye. A dumbfounded look. What is he supposed to do with that? He's seen Lockon direct it at people countless times before, then thinking it completely meaningless, but these days he's come to accept the ridiculous-looking movement as just one more part of him. "There." Adjusting his glasses with limited success, he unceremoniously lays the amount on their table. One more thing about Tieria, though, is that he's long since applied a Golden Rule when it comes to Lockon: if in doubt, mimic. Of course, that guideline is just a little broader when intoxicated. So rigidly, and with impaired aim, Tiera actually reciprocates.



It starts as an ordinary movement--Lockon reaches for the money to pick it up. But then, with his hand midway to the table, he sees Tieria imitate his gesture, folding his hand into the mock-gun shape. For a moment, Lockon freezes, totally bewildered by such behavior from Tieria.

Then he all but collapses to the table, propping himself up with both hands, and he laughs and laughs. He laughs because it's funny, and he laughs to cover up the fact that seeing Tieria so sweet and vulnerable is oddly appealing to him, in a way that's become different over the past few months. He laughs until he's out of breath--an unfamiliar sensation by now, one that startles him. Of course: he needs air to laugh, even if he doesn't need it for anything else anymore.



Taken aback by the ouburst initially, whether Tieria's answer is a huff or a slight laugh under his breath can't really be determined for certain. "It looks just as amusing when you do it," he counters matter-of-factly, and with the hints of humor he picked up over the years.

Lockon's starting to carry on past the usual limits, though, and Tieria is getting bothered. "Are you all right?"



If Tieria is getting bothered, it's definitely too much. Lockon quickly restrains himself. "I'm fine," he reassures Tieria. "Wait a second! What do you mean, it looks just as amusing when I do it?" A beat. "Maybe I shouldn't ask." With a sheepish grin, he picks the money up and heads for the counter to pay. He keeps stealing glances back over his shoulder, though, to make sure that Tieria is still sitting and hasn't fallen over yet.



"I was kidding." Funny thing is, this is what he would say even when completely sober. Watching Lockon intently as he heads back for a few moments, Tiera diverts his attention to the empty mug and its intricate designs without too many outward signs of needing help -- struggling to stay awake now and again in his seat, but that's about it.



Soon enough, Lockon is back at Tieria's side, their drinks now paid for. "Hey, Tieria. Don't fall asleep here. Let's go back to the apartment." He doesn't sound overly concerned--he trusts Tieria to stay awake so long as Lockon tells him to. All the same, he reaches for Tieria's arm to help pull him up.

He just barely manages not to start at the touch. He was the one who initiated it, after all. But it's still a bit of a jolt to him. The living always feel so warm, like they're fevered. And he usually avoids touching Tieria too much, knowing that the coolness of his own hands beneath the gloves troubles him. There's no other option now, though, so he pushes away his doubts and starts to help Tieria to his feet.



Never before has he grown attached to thought of sleeping or of beds, just a needed function for sustaining life, but now the idea of it awaiting him at home is painfully appealing. Still, if there were any doubts that he would stop himself for Lockon's sake, that touch eliminates them while Tieria's eyes flicker open. The cold sensation through cotton isn't half as jarring as the bitter reminder of loss, and suddenly his emotions can't quite hold up under the strain as well as they could have. "Keep close, you'll need to stay warm," he manages, voice mildly wavering as he wraps an arm around his for steadiness.



It's times like these that Lockon wishes his gloves were thicker. Tieria might not want to admit it, but Lockon knows exactly where that waver in his voice comes from. He has to find some way of steadying Tieria emotionally as well as physically now.

As they stand and head for the door, Lockon wraps his arm around Tieria's shoulders, pulling him close. Let him share that warmth if he wants. Just so long as he doesn't worry too much about it: "I'm fine out there. It's still warm for this time of year, right?" And he smiles. For all the cold Tieria can feel in him, that smile is still warm.



"Warm enough for those with an average body temperature. But if it's within the acceptable range for you..." Not knowing how cold the weather would be to affect others outside that category, only that Lockon has a tendency to claim he's fine when he isn't, that was his reasoning for it the entire way there to begin with. That, and for whatever reason, the close proximity comforts him almost as much as his words. "This is better, even so." And from the familiar way Lockon looks at him, Tieria can tell there are no objections.



"I wouldn't have come out here if it wasn't," Lockon reassures Tieria. It's true enough--it's chilly to him outside, like it nearly always is, but he's learned to get used to it. He finds himself thinking, too, that it was worth it. Even if this outing (that anyone else would call a date) didn't go exactly as planned, he's secretly more than a little glad he got the chance to see Tieria drunk. He's too entertaining that way.

Lockon pushes the door open and steps out into the night with Tieria, and he thinks: that's just one more thing the City has given him the chance to see that he otherwise never would have. Is it worth it, after all? He's still not entirely sure, but for now, he's glad to be here.

Maybe it's the whiskey in his own system that lets him go a little beyond accepting that and toward asking a question he might otherwise not have. "You don't mind sticking this close to me to warm me up? You're not usually a big toucher."



The crisp night air is making him noticeably more alert, though the windows and streetlights are still a faint blur to him as they pass by. "I still have no real need to do so, but it's become less of an issue. In any case," he continues, as if contemplating something in his mind and just sharing every thought with Lockon (which isn't far off the mark), "you will always be different compared to others."

He thinks it's a perfectly good explanation -- there are people he's opened up to in four years, people he would trust with his life, and then there is Lockon. He wonders if he'll ever find a proper description for that, in the time they still have left together, whether the term itself is important or not.



It's warm, next to Tieria. Knowing how cold he is without anyone else to hold or be held by (no, only to hold; Lockon isn't the kind of guy who gets held, thank you), Lockon doesn't want to back away. But something about Tieria's words makes him nearly flinch away. You will always be different. There's something else in those words, in the way Tieria lets himself be held so easily--

No, it's impossible for Tieria to feel that way. And about him, of all people--he was a guide to Tieria, a replacement for Veda, an inspiration, and somehow, someone he cared about protecting. How has that become this? Regene must have just been toying with him when he talked about desires and attraction. Tieria will provide a nice, reasonable explanation right...about...now. "Tieria, what does 'different' mean?"



Different? If this was the Tieria from years ago, he'd cite the dictionary definition and that would be that -- it's quite clearly not, though, and his pace slows while he gives the matter some thought.

This kind of thing isn't a subject he's familiar with, no matter how much he's grown to learn about other ones -- he's glimpsed those kinds of relationships before, even researched to some extent recently, but it all seems inadequate to explain what he feels. He probably isn't designed with the correct mindset for it, but hasn't he abandoned living by what is or is not built for? Although, a number of supposed 'symptoms' like increased heart rate are --

"More than friendship. I'm extremely attached to you." That really is lacking, and he knows it, but he's showing signs of being flustered, if only because he hates to elaborate on topics he isn't an expert in.



The best approach to such a confession (and coming from Tieria, it borders perilously on being just that) would be to move a little closer, Lockon realizes. Reassure him. This is a human thing, isn't it? He should be glad that Tieria is being more human than Lockon himself ever thought possible. Instead he's alarmed.

But he finds that his arm around Tieria's shoulders is moving almost without him thinking about it so that his hand rests on Tieria's head. Stupid, stupid, he chastises himself. This explains everything; why didn't he figure it out sooner? Maybe then he could have found a graceful way to reject Tieria without hurting him. But if he'd wanted to do that, he realizes, he would have figured it out sooner and backed away. He doesn't want to reject Tieria. He wants to keep taking care of him even if it's in a different way than it once was.

"I'm sorry," he says, and he knows that Tieria can't know all the ways he means it. "This is going to get complicated. But it's all right. You're--" He hesitates for a moment, then decides against the we he was considering changing that to. That's committing to too much. "You're just being human."



Less unconsciously, Tieria reacts by leaning into that touch, studying Lockon's face. Of course this will be complicated (whatever 'this' is; Lockon seems to have a good idea, and it automatically makes him feel safer, no matter how much he wants to be the one making him feel safe), what part of becoming human wasn't at first? Tieria simply realizes, has realized for some time now, that even when they are arguably simple things like this walk to the apartment, he prefers it when they're done with him. Just that much is more than fine, but by now he will have no problem with anything else.

"I know I am, and I thank you," he replies at length. Something about that apology has him concerned. "Do you mind? If we continue spending time together this way."



Now that Tieria's leaned into the touch, Lockon can hardly take it back. In fact, he can't quite resist a smile, even if it's a little sad. He holds Tieria's head against his shoulder for a moment, then moves his arm back around Tieria's shoulders. It's a more business-like touch, once again intended just to make sure Tieria stays on his feet.

"You don't need to thank me now," he says. "You're the one doing all the hard work at being human." That might have been bad phrasing, Lockon thinks. Or maybe not; he's done his best not to be human in some ways, hasn't he? It turned out not to work that well. He still selfishly likes holding Tieria like this. Even if it's not fair to lead him on, when Lockon can't possibly feel the same things he does.

He dodges the last question and asks one more of his own. "You're always thanking me, Tieria. It's all right if you want to, but are you sure that's not what you're feeling? Gratitude. That's what I thought it was, after all." It's a last-ditch attempt.



"I am trying." He looks away for a moment, very detemined not to make that smile disappear. Lockon's avoiding the question, but maybe it's just that his answer may hinge on the ones he asked. "This is based on my obervations," he warns in advance, more at ease talking about this in practical terms as with everything he once tried to understand, "but isn't gratitude confined to one pattern of behavior? Expressing admiration for ther actions and repaying them from a sense of obligation, or guilt?"

He lets the contact shift, anything to accomodate right now. The things he describes strike a chord from the past, all too clear when he slightly frowns. "I think that was the case before what happened to you, but it certainly changed since I was able to meet you again. For example, I don't simply want your company because of all you did for me. I would like it for... you, as a human. Gratitude is only one significant factor." Finished, he's hesitant, hoping that the alcohol hasn't muddled his words or train of thought in ways he can't determine.



"It's all right to trust your observations," Lockon says, continuing to guide Tieria (and not particularly thinking about the metaphorical implications of that). And he listens, the smile still there but faint, not quite reaching his good eye anymore. He doesn't know what to think anymore. For you, as a human. Something about those words is so strange to him.

"Before what happened to me...?" Lockon sees another chance to escape, but he doesn't have a lot of faith in it anymore. "That's no way to describe it. You know by now that was a choice I made. You know I'd make the same choice again." The end of the month had proven that. "That doesn't change anything, for you?" But he knows now that it doesn't. He doesn't understand how that can be true, how Tieria can want to be with someone who threw his life away for vengeance, who had no purpose but to protect and avenge, whose only purpose now is to protect and guide when he can.

He laughs into the night, a small and rueful sound. He wants to say, I don't understand you, but it would be a lie, because he does understand Tieria in so many ways. Just not this one. "It's all right. I'll stay with you and spend time with you. But unless I'm off the mark, we should call it 'dating' now."



As they near Building 3, Tieria gives him a look that speaks volumes of being caught off-guard. Why ask such a thing when it's obvious? But he knows full well that Lockon is doing what he does best, guiding him and helping him make sure he's reached the right decision. "Of course not. If your choice mattered, I would have said so. Perhaps you aren't entirely perfect, but you taught me that no one else on Earth is, Lockon." It seems to Tieria, after all he's learned, that this is why people need one another: to make up for their weaknesses and create one powerful unit.

There is a pause while he considers, trying and failing to hide some inexplicable relief that's come over him, moving only when that laughter reverberates against him. "Then I am glad. We can use whatever term is appropriate." Lockon's aim, as it were, is seldom off in this respect.

The effects of the drink, though, are clearing up enough for him to notice that their display is all very public, a fact that makes him more uncomfortable by the minute. "Let's go inside."



"You're a good learner, Tieria," Lockon says. "You'll figure out dating and romance in no time, too." Then, when he goes home, maybe he'll still have enough of that knowledge left somewhere to apply it to someone else, Lockon tells himself. He has a bad feeling about that, actually. But he still hopes.

It's getting chilly again, so Lockon has no objections to Tieria's last suggestion. "Inside it is. Hey, hey," he says as he makes his way towards the door, taking Tieria's hand in his to continue leading him even now that he's more stable on his feet, "why don't we try another movie night? I found a movie about robots from the early twenty-first century. It's called 'Wall-E'..."