[ At some point, after the lights have lowered (it's half past eight now, they've been here for literal hours and it doesn't feel like much, it doesn't feel like enough by far) and the light artist's work has been shown off properly, neon colours glowing in tubes between specifically chosen sculptures, like futuristic miniature roads, Claude steers them towards the small array of tents, the bumper car arena right next to them, loud screaming accompanying their every step down the earthy path, most of the grass long since trampled under foot or dead from the cold. Winter has been harsh this year - and they say global warming's a myth.
They're walking by various kinds of games, Whack-a-Mole, weight-guessing (slightly problematic, that one), fishbowl and Skee Ball - and Claude is getting ready to call it a night for now, they paid their due, now he wants to get home and heat up properly once more, preferably on Jean Louis' cock. He still feels the peck from earlier, like a tingle down his spine. Something soft and comforting that way. A little bit uneasy, for no discernible reason. Then, he spots the shooting gallery, get all the balloons and win a teddy bear-kinda game.
He halts, almost dead in his tracks, forcing Jean Louis to a sudden stop as well, but only because he's on his good side or he'd never. Staring for a long time at the tent, currently free and lit up by a row of big lightbulbs hanging along the roof and bright spots inside the tent, too, they won't even have to rub shoulders with anyone else, he turns slightly towards the other man and smiles at him, wide, a little bit of a challenge in it. ]
How's your aim? You think you could win me a teddy bear?
[ It's been hours and though his shoulder is starting to feel the cold, the rest of him is perfectly content, simply walking around with Claude and watching the park lit up in the dark, the paths of neon light stretching between the sculptures completing the theming of the exhibition better than any of the fairy lights strung over the tents and attractions. They're out of wine and the sky is pitch black. In little time, they'll probably depart.
He doesn't particularly want to. Good thing their next destination is Claude's bedroom - no matter how lovely this is, this little date, it's hard to top what they make when they're alone and stripped to the skin.
Claude pulls him to a stop and he pauses, looking at him questioningly. He follows the other man's gaze towards the tent a bit off to the right, a shooting gallery full of balloons, the shelves stacked with toy animals of all colours and sizes. It takes Claude a while to ask and Jean Louis waits him out quietly, sliding one hand lightly against the small of his back. How's your aim says Claude.
Oh.
It takes him a moment to understand that the man's serious - glancing towards the shooting gallery again, he finally quirks an eyebrow at him and gives his back a gentle pat. ]
Name the one you'd like.
[ He leads the other man towards the tent. The gallery is very bright compared to the path they've just been walking and the shadows of the balloons, of the toy animals and the man behind the counter stretch out into the darkness in odd formations and shapes, mixing with theirs and drawing them in. ]
[ It's the little details, more than the big picture.
The big picture is simple, Jean Louis and him on a minor red carpet event turned more adolescent date than anything and Fortesqué would probably hate that, right, but the details are intricate and careful. Jean Louis waiting for him to make up his mind and just ask for it, ask for what he wants, and the light touch against the small of Claude's back when he's gathered all his courage and done so, telling him - name the one you'd like, like he could get anything and any one in particular he'd like. And Claude battles, for a brief moment as they walk over to the shooting gallery, an old urge to be sensible, to be proper, not make too much of a fuss of himself, ask for the little green ducks that are all but consolation prizes, but as they stop in front of the tent, he looks sideways at Jean Louis, Jean Louis taking him here, indulging him. He knows the other man wouldn't care about shooting down a duck for him, he'd want him to go big or go home, that's kinda his whole political foundation, make the most of it.
So, Claude looks further up the rows of teddy bears, spotting a huge - almost his own size, but only almost - pink teddy bear with a heart between its paws spelling "I LUV U" that, explains the man in the tent once he sees the direction of Claude's gaze, requires 25 consecutive bull's eyes.
Can Jean Louis do 25? He raises both eyebrows at him, turning towards him slightly as he leans against the counter with one hip, kind of swaggering a little, all relaxed amusement. Jean Louis can probably do 50, if you asked him to. He never sets him aims low. So, Claude doesn't either. ]
The pink one.
[ And with a smile that only grows in width, he leans in slightly and in the shadows of the pathway they've just been following, he slaps the other man's ass lightly. Just a touch. Loving. Mine, it means. ]
[ It's become a habit of sorts, asking the other man to choose what he wants, to point to something in the world and say, that's it, that's mine. Though most people, by way of socialization, meet their own wants and needs with some degree of polite reluctance, at the base of it they want what they want and in general, that's what motivates them. Humans are, in that respect, greedy creatures and there's something very nice and simple about that concept. Claude, on the other hand, isn't easy. He's kind, soft, sweet and full of earnest ideology but he isn't easy - perhaps because he refuses to make things easy on himself.
Jean Louis doesn't know how the world creates a man like that, what you have to see and experience to become so wary of your own selfishness - it seems counterproductive to him, like a thing that'll kill you faster.
So, when Claude points to the frankly gigantic pink teddy bear and the man in the tent tells him what it takes, Jean Louis simply reaches out, takes the air gun and weighs it between his hands briefly. He doesn't jerk or jump when Claude slaps him on the arse - from any other man, of course it would have been a sign of aggression but he can tell the difference just fine between true violence and everything that isn't. This is in the category of everything, as things often are around the other man. He's trying not to overanalyze it; whenever he lingers for too long on this relationship, on Claude entwining their fingers and letting him fuck him when for so long, he hasn't wanted to, taking him to see his family over Christmas - whenever he thinks about it, it confuses him. Like perhaps it's some kind of reality he's living in that doesn't truly exist for anyone else.
He gives the other man a brief smile before taking aim, holding the gun in his right hand and keeping both eyes open by habit. Looking over the balloons quickly, he decides to take out the upper half of the board, left to right.
[ Although Claude didn't explicitly ask for permission to touch him, which he'd usually do with everybody else, Jean Louis doesn't tell him off for the ass slap, but rather smiles at him sideways, taking the air gun and weighing it between his hands briefly, the very attractive sight of his fingers curling around something basically phallic-shaped, why the fuck do you think men are obsessed with weapons? Total dick fixation. Claude watches his fingers, his hand, as he raises the weapon and goes for the top row first, left to right. Yes, Claude watches his fingers intently, but then he ends up watching the balloons instead, or rather the pitiful piece of rubber that's left of them, once Jean Louis goes through all 25 in less than ten seconds. His mouth falls open halfway, while he breathes in, one, two, then he manages to close it again with some effort, turning towards Jean Louis, wide-eyed with wonder. ]
Oh my fucking God, what the hell!
[ He laughs, feeling stupidly giddy and shifting from foot to foot, mostly because the boner he's currently nursing is even more epic than the teddy bear that the stall manager wrestles down from the shelf with some grunts and curses, coming over and handing it over the counter, Claude taking it with wide, open arms. The stall manager proceeds to ring a bell, as if to alert the entire area to this big win, several people turning after them, especially a few kids. Ten meters across the muddy pathway, a young North African-looking girl, no more than seven or eight, stares with obvious envy at the pink teddy bear. Claude shifts it to his other arm, turning back towards Jean Louis. ]
Here's the plan. [ He steps closer, they're almost toe to toe. ] You let me take this teddy bear to the girl over there, it'll be good for public relations, in response to which I don't ask you where the fuck your aim got that good. [ A hard swallow and Claude leans in an extra inch, feigning privacy - a privacy they'll never have in a place like this, but it's not like they're exactly planning crime, are they? It's an air gun. Bad guy vibes, not bad guy kill count. ] Then, you take me home and let me suck your cock. Okay?
[ The stall manager looks less than pleased about putting the work in but rules are rules, at least when you willingly agree to follow them and Jean Louis watches as the teddy bear makes it way to Claude's waiting arms. Claude, who looks... rather impressed, which is always nice. Jean Louis is a very good shooter, though not amongst the best - he's proficient enough to defend himself and in the underworld, that doesn't mean much compared to everyone else. He's fine. He wouldn't necessarily die straight away in a shoot-out. But Claude, Claude who's grown up in a very different kind of reality, Claude who doesn't dare to want anything too grand for himself, laughs giddily and shifts about, looking like the blood's even rushing south - is that a kink of some sort, should Jean Louis take him shooting one day on City's shooting range?
And then, like it's just that easy, he asks Jean Louis to allow him to give the bear away, as if he'd ever need to ask. Jean Louis sighs, looking at him as he steps closer. He shifts to put the airgun on the counter before turning his back on the booth, facing Claude directly, the distance between them very minimal, not minimal enough. He looks into his eyes, brown and warm and open, his bedtime promise going to his blood like a sweet little heat, something for later. You let me take this teddy bear to the girl.
You let me.
Let me. ]
Always a question with you. [ He reaches out, running his cool fingers down the side of Claude's cheek gently, uncaring about who's watching or why. He keeps his voice low, even. ] If that's what you want, Claude, then that's what you do. I won it for you, it's yours.
[ Stepping back, he puts his hand in his pocket instead and fishes out a smoke with the other. He sticks it between his lips and lights it quickly, glancing over at the stall manager who's watching him with a look he knows all too well. Giving him a raised eyebrow, he leaves the package of smokes along with the lighter on the counter. It's a cold night and the man's already getting paid.
[ Nothing is ever only ours, Claude wants to tell Jean Louis, but then he runs his fingers down the side of Claude's face and caresses him, it isn't secret, it isn't hurried or hidden away. It's there for everyone to see, and for Claude to feel, chilled and soft at the same time. He pauses for a moment, watching as the other man pulls out his smokes and lights up, then smiles slowly and looks back towards the girl - she's still there, gesturing towards the shooting gallery, though her father is shaking his head multiple times.
Stepping away from the other man, Claude hurries over, dodging a few park goers on the way, stopping a polite distance away and meeting the father's eyes. He looks skeptic. Apprehensive. Claude doesn't understand the feeling, but he understands the reasons. So he smiles, slowly kneels down, until the teddy bear is actually taller than him, balancing it against his side, and catches the little girl's eyes. Hi, he says, I'm Claude, what's your name?
Aliya, she replies, about to back into her dad, maybe let him whisk her away from the scary guy who came out of nowhere with the one thing she wants the most.
Aliya, he repeats, and now the father kneels behind the girl as well, protectively putting both hands on her shoulders, for support, for safekeeping. My friend over there - he points to Jean Louis who has left his cigarettes and lighter behind, the stall manager now busy unpacking one for himself, bad habits passed on through good acts - just won this one for me but I can't take it home, it's too big. Do you want it?
She doesn't reply. She looks back at her father who meets Claude's eyes for a long moment, trying to figure him out, then he nods, affirming. She nods, too, and then simply reaches for the bear, both arms stretched far. Claude hands it to her. She needs help from her father as well, to balance it right.
But she looks happy. And the father, too, for a moment looks happy.
Say thank you, Aliya, he says.
But Claude says, ]
No need. We should thank you.
[ And there's a deep silence for all of three seconds, while first Claude gets up, then the father and then he balances the teddy bear against his side while Aliya starts hesitantly reversing, so he has no options but to follow, unless the teddy bear is going to end in the mud. Claude isn't here to get thanks from people whose daily lives he affects, for better or for worse. He's just here to do the work.
A moment, watching them disappear into the crowd.
Returning to Jean Louis' side, Jean Louis who shoots down balloons and passes his smokes on, he decides they do the extra work together and it doesn't feel like work at all. ]
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no subject
They're walking by various kinds of games, Whack-a-Mole, weight-guessing (slightly problematic, that one), fishbowl and Skee Ball - and Claude is getting ready to call it a night for now, they paid their due, now he wants to get home and heat up properly once more, preferably on Jean Louis' cock. He still feels the peck from earlier, like a tingle down his spine. Something soft and comforting that way. A little bit uneasy, for no discernible reason. Then, he spots the shooting gallery, get all the balloons and win a teddy bear-kinda game.
He halts, almost dead in his tracks, forcing Jean Louis to a sudden stop as well, but only because he's on his good side or he'd never. Staring for a long time at the tent, currently free and lit up by a row of big lightbulbs hanging along the roof and bright spots inside the tent, too, they won't even have to rub shoulders with anyone else, he turns slightly towards the other man and smiles at him, wide, a little bit of a challenge in it. ]
How's your aim? You think you could win me a teddy bear?
no subject
He doesn't particularly want to. Good thing their next destination is Claude's bedroom - no matter how lovely this is, this little date, it's hard to top what they make when they're alone and stripped to the skin.
Claude pulls him to a stop and he pauses, looking at him questioningly. He follows the other man's gaze towards the tent a bit off to the right, a shooting gallery full of balloons, the shelves stacked with toy animals of all colours and sizes. It takes Claude a while to ask and Jean Louis waits him out quietly, sliding one hand lightly against the small of his back. How's your aim says Claude.
Oh.
It takes him a moment to understand that the man's serious - glancing towards the shooting gallery again, he finally quirks an eyebrow at him and gives his back a gentle pat. ]
Name the one you'd like.
[ He leads the other man towards the tent. The gallery is very bright compared to the path they've just been walking and the shadows of the balloons, of the toy animals and the man behind the counter stretch out into the darkness in odd formations and shapes, mixing with theirs and drawing them in. ]
no subject
The big picture is simple, Jean Louis and him on a minor red carpet event turned more adolescent date than anything and Fortesqué would probably hate that, right, but the details are intricate and careful. Jean Louis waiting for him to make up his mind and just ask for it, ask for what he wants, and the light touch against the small of Claude's back when he's gathered all his courage and done so, telling him - name the one you'd like, like he could get anything and any one in particular he'd like. And Claude battles, for a brief moment as they walk over to the shooting gallery, an old urge to be sensible, to be proper, not make too much of a fuss of himself, ask for the little green ducks that are all but consolation prizes, but as they stop in front of the tent, he looks sideways at Jean Louis, Jean Louis taking him here, indulging him. He knows the other man wouldn't care about shooting down a duck for him, he'd want him to go big or go home, that's kinda his whole political foundation, make the most of it.
So, Claude looks further up the rows of teddy bears, spotting a huge - almost his own size, but only almost - pink teddy bear with a heart between its paws spelling "I LUV U" that, explains the man in the tent once he sees the direction of Claude's gaze, requires 25 consecutive bull's eyes.
Can Jean Louis do 25? He raises both eyebrows at him, turning towards him slightly as he leans against the counter with one hip, kind of swaggering a little, all relaxed amusement. Jean Louis can probably do 50, if you asked him to. He never sets him aims low. So, Claude doesn't either. ]
The pink one.
[ And with a smile that only grows in width, he leans in slightly and in the shadows of the pathway they've just been following, he slaps the other man's ass lightly. Just a touch. Loving. Mine, it means. ]
no subject
Jean Louis doesn't know how the world creates a man like that, what you have to see and experience to become so wary of your own selfishness - it seems counterproductive to him, like a thing that'll kill you faster.
So, when Claude points to the frankly gigantic pink teddy bear and the man in the tent tells him what it takes, Jean Louis simply reaches out, takes the air gun and weighs it between his hands briefly. He doesn't jerk or jump when Claude slaps him on the arse - from any other man, of course it would have been a sign of aggression but he can tell the difference just fine between true violence and everything that isn't. This is in the category of everything, as things often are around the other man. He's trying not to overanalyze it; whenever he lingers for too long on this relationship, on Claude entwining their fingers and letting him fuck him when for so long, he hasn't wanted to, taking him to see his family over Christmas - whenever he thinks about it, it confuses him. Like perhaps it's some kind of reality he's living in that doesn't truly exist for anyone else.
He gives the other man a brief smile before taking aim, holding the gun in his right hand and keeping both eyes open by habit. Looking over the balloons quickly, he decides to take out the upper half of the board, left to right.
They're gone in less than 10 seconds. ]
no subject
Oh my fucking God, what the hell!
[ He laughs, feeling stupidly giddy and shifting from foot to foot, mostly because the boner he's currently nursing is even more epic than the teddy bear that the stall manager wrestles down from the shelf with some grunts and curses, coming over and handing it over the counter, Claude taking it with wide, open arms. The stall manager proceeds to ring a bell, as if to alert the entire area to this big win, several people turning after them, especially a few kids. Ten meters across the muddy pathway, a young North African-looking girl, no more than seven or eight, stares with obvious envy at the pink teddy bear. Claude shifts it to his other arm, turning back towards Jean Louis. ]
Here's the plan. [ He steps closer, they're almost toe to toe. ] You let me take this teddy bear to the girl over there, it'll be good for public relations, in response to which I don't ask you where the fuck your aim got that good. [ A hard swallow and Claude leans in an extra inch, feigning privacy - a privacy they'll never have in a place like this, but it's not like they're exactly planning crime, are they? It's an air gun. Bad guy vibes, not bad guy kill count. ] Then, you take me home and let me suck your cock. Okay?
no subject
And then, like it's just that easy, he asks Jean Louis to allow him to give the bear away, as if he'd ever need to ask. Jean Louis sighs, looking at him as he steps closer. He shifts to put the airgun on the counter before turning his back on the booth, facing Claude directly, the distance between them very minimal, not minimal enough. He looks into his eyes, brown and warm and open, his bedtime promise going to his blood like a sweet little heat, something for later. You let me take this teddy bear to the girl.
You let me.
Let me. ]
Always a question with you. [ He reaches out, running his cool fingers down the side of Claude's cheek gently, uncaring about who's watching or why. He keeps his voice low, even. ] If that's what you want, Claude, then that's what you do. I won it for you, it's yours.
[ Stepping back, he puts his hand in his pocket instead and fishes out a smoke with the other. He sticks it between his lips and lights it quickly, glancing over at the stall manager who's watching him with a look he knows all too well. Giving him a raised eyebrow, he leaves the package of smokes along with the lighter on the counter. It's a cold night and the man's already getting paid.
Save the money for something else. ]
no subject
Stepping away from the other man, Claude hurries over, dodging a few park goers on the way, stopping a polite distance away and meeting the father's eyes. He looks skeptic. Apprehensive. Claude doesn't understand the feeling, but he understands the reasons. So he smiles, slowly kneels down, until the teddy bear is actually taller than him, balancing it against his side, and catches the little girl's eyes. Hi, he says, I'm Claude, what's your name?
Aliya, she replies, about to back into her dad, maybe let him whisk her away from the scary guy who came out of nowhere with the one thing she wants the most.
Aliya, he repeats, and now the father kneels behind the girl as well, protectively putting both hands on her shoulders, for support, for safekeeping. My friend over there - he points to Jean Louis who has left his cigarettes and lighter behind, the stall manager now busy unpacking one for himself, bad habits passed on through good acts - just won this one for me but I can't take it home, it's too big. Do you want it?
She doesn't reply. She looks back at her father who meets Claude's eyes for a long moment, trying to figure him out, then he nods, affirming. She nods, too, and then simply reaches for the bear, both arms stretched far. Claude hands it to her. She needs help from her father as well, to balance it right.
But she looks happy. And the father, too, for a moment looks happy.
Say thank you, Aliya, he says.
But Claude says, ]
No need. We should thank you.
[ And there's a deep silence for all of three seconds, while first Claude gets up, then the father and then he balances the teddy bear against his side while Aliya starts hesitantly reversing, so he has no options but to follow, unless the teddy bear is going to end in the mud. Claude isn't here to get thanks from people whose daily lives he affects, for better or for worse. He's just here to do the work.
A moment, watching them disappear into the crowd.
Returning to Jean Louis' side, Jean Louis who shoots down balloons and passes his smokes on, he decides they do the extra work together and it doesn't feel like work at all. ]