|Radiators and carrot batter.
||[Dec. 1st, 2012|06:47 pm]
Negability Prime--Negability in time and space.
'WHY can't everyone just leave us alone?' Overstrom sighs.
'It's not as if we're disrupting YOUR household.' Sir Isaac shrugs and gets to his feet to answer the door.
'Sir,' a servant announces, 'your steward is here with the accounts.'
'What?' Sir Isaac asks, surprised. "What day is it?'
'It's Saturday, the 28th of November,' the servant answers. Blake opens his eyes in surprise. 'You remember you asked him not to come yesterday since you were busy.'
Sir Isaac turns to Ivy. 'Well come along,' he says briskly. 'We'll get dressed, I'll go over the accounts with my steward while you have tea with Catherine, and then we'll go make some new elixir in the cellar.'
"You'd better have tea too," she demands.
"So you don't get hungry or thirsty." She swipes Overstrom's extra robe, swirls it on, and ushers Sir Isaac out. He unobtrusively leans against her for support as he shuts the door behind them.
Overstrom breathes a sigh of relief, takes off his robe and lays it at the foot of the bed, and climbs back under the covers. 'So, where were we,' he whispers, wrapping an arm around Blake.
Blake dizzily presses his lips to Overstrom's jaw, then murmurs, "Does it count as my birthday if we're in a time before I was born?"
Overstrom props himself up on an elbow and looks at Blake. 'Your birthday?'
"He said it was November 28th."
'Happy birthday,' he smiles.
"Thanks," Blake drops his eyes. "Except I don't think I'm actually a year older yet."
'Um, does it matter?'
"Well, I wouldn't want you to think it was my PT birthday under false pretenses."
Overstrom shakes his head in disbelief, then reaches out to tilt Blake's chin up for a kiss. 'You are such an odd young man.'
Blake rolls over halfway to wrap his arms around him. "That's more or less what everyone else says," he murmurs when he gets his breath back.
'Can't imagine why.'
"What do people say about YOU?"
'How would I know? They would be unlikely to say whatever they say in my presence.'
"You're too fearsome!" Blake smiles.
'Do you not agree?'
"I'm too terrified to answer that."
'As you should be.' He doesn't sound as if he's joking.
"Uh oh. Should I flee?"
'It would be wise...if you can.' Overstrom's arm tightens around him.
Blake looks at him, then lunges for the edge of the bed.
Overstrom's arm turns to steel, jerking Blake back against his chest. 'Too late.'
"Oh." He feels out of breath again. "I seem to be--doomed."
'Quite possibly,' Overstrom breathes into his neck.
Blake tilts his body away without letting go, and Overstrom obligingly--and menacingly--rolls on top of him. "What terrible things are you going to do to me?"
'Hm...not knowing would make them even more terrible, don't you think?'
"Much worse," Blake agrees, shivering.
'Good,' he whispers, teeth gently closing on Blake's throat.
Some time later Overstrom has fallen into a deep sleep, still clutching Blake firmly.
Blake is dozing lightly--or thinks he is--when he's jolted awake by a firm poke in the shoulder.
"Hey," Ivy hisses cheerfully, "aren't you ever getting up?"
"Trapped," he mutters. "See?"
Overstrom reflexively tightens his grip as Blake stirs.
"Aww, it's like you're his teddy bear. I wonder if he had a teddy bear?"
"I--really hope he didn't treat it the same way, if he did."
Ivy laughs. "Who knows? But you have to get up, I'm so BORED. Sir Isaac is still blabbing with the steward and Catherine's not up yet so she can't have tea with me."
Blake yawns. "Trapped, remember?" He sounds unduly smug for a captive.
"Have you tried tickling his armpit?"
"No. Why would I?"
Ivy leans over Blake to sing into Overstrom's ear. "Let go, O, let go." He doesn't move.
"Why should I get up?" Blake mumbles.
"Because you're awake?"
"Are too, you're talking."
"I talk in my sleep."
"Yeah, but this time you're not talking about radiators and carrot batter."
"What?" He opens his eyes.
"See, you're awake."
Noam leaps up to the headboard and tries to knock Calla off her perch. She bats at him with her wing, but he keeps coming. Finally, she opens her eyes and springs at him, talons outstretched, and Noam squeaks and falls off the edge onto Overstrom's head. Even this fails to rouse him.
Noam scrambles back onto the pillow and makes a mighty leap for Calla, who bursts up into the air, shrieking.
"WHAT THE FUCK," growls Blake, and wrenches himself out from under Overstrom's arm.
Overstrom mutters and curls up even more tightly, burying himself deeper into his blanket coocoon.
"Now look what you did," Blake tells her.
"I got you up! Now let's find you some clothes."
He points at her. "Aren't THOSE my clothes?"
"Well, sort of. You wouldn't expect me to climb into one of those horrible dress cages again, would you?"
Catching the tail of a faint memory, Blake goes around to the other side of the bed and snatches up the jeans hanging halfway out of it.
"Oh good, you have some pants," Ivy chatters. "That shifty thing is basically a shirt, so you're dressed, right?"
"Did someone give you coffee?" he mutters, pulling them on.
Overstrom stretches out an arm from under the covers and feels around. Blake's heart jumps.
"No, but that sounds really good about now."
"Anyone who gives you coffee should be shot."
"You're MEAN. I think you might need some coffee."
"I don't drink coffee."
"I might end up like YOU."
"I don't know, I kind of like being like me."
Calla swoops down at Noam, sending him leaping frantically for Ivy's shoulder.