[Private] Between the Sheets

Mitch snorted at the comment, like he was embarrassed.

The clench to his jaw as he seemed to mull something at least told the perfect Beast that the other wasn't numb to his surroundings. Mitch grasped the tracing hand and kissed his knuckles, "What's up?" he asked quietly, voice scratching a bit from exhaustion. He propped himself up a bit if it was a cue to leave, but not in any particular hurry.

Weekend meant Cailleagh was working the rare morning to make sure things didn't light on fire, which also meant the Winter Courtier would probably ice the hallway outside his door if he woke her up. Yuan was also basically a stranger, so taking him back to his apartment—as spacious as it was—would probably imply something or put on imagined pressure. He made enough income to not cheap out on a room, though he had still offered his place if the Beast took it as something clandestine or something he was awkward about. 

As he waited for an answer, he started fixing the items he had bumped on the night stand, making sure the edges aligned with the black and gold granite.

The marble of the Dancers eyes flickered as he blinked, the reflection from lamp's light offering the only hint that they had rolled to glance at Yuan. He chuckled as he caught the other still staring with a feeling between admiration and vexed jealousy. Mitch figured at this point the Playmate was very used to being told how pretty he was--delicate features or an ageless complexion that didn't show stress. It had been fun to mess up his hair a bit. Without a mirror and the city's lights drowning the window's reflection, the Beast hadn't realized to feel he had to fix it.

"Helps me organize my thoughts," he offered, not going into detail about his very mundane anxiety. Rather than seemingly offended or bothered by the prompt, his smile was soft.

"Does that make you worried?"

The Fairest laid back down, staring blankly at Yuan without looking at his face. His brow furrowed a bit,

"I don't think it's that others don't care, more that things have been blowing up faster than they have in a while. People tend to worry about the bigger fires," he said evenly. He danced his fingertips from the Beast's thigh to his hip bone.


The prism that flickered across his vision was meant to be for a second, but the Wyrd decided to open the floodgates once again. At least it wasn't watching Danica screaming as she tried to haul a bloodied Linden out from corpse that was slowly crushing the Ogre to death. 

His hand ticked back on its own accord as if he had been shocked, prompting the diamond veins around the wrist to needle like ferro-fluid; a physical protest to the unregulated movement. Mitch reflexively snapped like summoning a placating charm, and the faerie mien seemed to accept it. There was a beat of silent embarrassment, so he didn't comment on what he had learned.

If it were an Elemental, Mitchell's mien reacting in such a manner usually meant the Sword was being drawn. That wasn't what was going on here, though: it seemed to come from the Dancer moving in a manner that was instinctual rather than the supernatural measure and pressure he applied to every movement. It looked painful, or at least to Mitch it was, and the reaction with the snapping was a neurological tick to correct the lapse of control.

Something had taken him by surprise and seemed to have dampened his mood, but it wasn't from Yuan asking questions. Sure, the line of conversation was causing some redirection, but the twitch and stress meant he was at least paying attention.

Mitch fixed Yuan's hair, running the math of the situation. "Your...stress?" he asked, sounding at at a loss.

The Dancer frowned, "Lets roll this conversation back a bit. You asked if we can talk about how I'm stressed, I asked if my stress is bothering you, then you said you didn't know how to feel about me not bringing up an issue..." he chuckled, trying to detangle the sudden intensity and the Beast trying to get him to put glamour on a promise. "Or that people didn't give a shit. I felt like I answered that..." he watched Yuan to see if he was rambling or if his angle made sense to the other,

"And now you seem super nervous and keep seeing if I want to drop it. I'm not sure what you want me to do...here? You can be straight with me. I literally work with the embodiment of blunt."

The amount of anxiety radiating off of Yuan reminded him of Oren. Archie had been desperate enough to snatch the whole damn wheel.

Was this what he did to people?

There had been a voicemail-

Carr soothed the crack that had forced its way across his face, pressing his hands against his face to crush whatever needle-sharp feathers or burning eyes that were forcing out with the pressure headache.

"Thank you, for putting up with-" it wasn't modeling healthy behaviour to put himself down, "Thanks for reaching out. It means a lot."

It really didn't. It never did.

He laughed despite how dry his mouth was, "You don't sound weird. I used to do similar shit."

He didn't know whether throwing the Playmate a bone was helping or feeding a Kith compulsion. Everyone needed a win these days, though.

"No I don't talk about it. I think I stopped caring, Yuan, when I realized that being sick didn't actually change what I am. It used to be that I was scared, like I was inviting something bad to happen, then I realized it was just an innate requirement to hold myself back. I don't think I can even be mad about it. I don't get to be mad. It's gone before I even grasp it. And now it's like I can't even hold onto a moment to even entertain being a fuckup. It's just boop, day's gone but hey everyone's better for it. You didn't hurt anyone. They're even praising all these things I do."

The Dancer swallowed, tongue sticking to the back of his throat, releasing his face as he frowned at the  vanished shards of his hands.

"I think I'm getting punished. Like, before, if I didn't follow an insane rule I made up in my head? I'd just imagine getting hurt. Now the fairy side of things gets to remind me that for us, if it's in our head it's real." Mitchell's eyes were bloodshot with quicksilver as he glanced at Yuan.

"So am I like a symbol you need to get better for you to know you're going to be okay? I'm not even trying to be a bitch right now, like I'm really sorry I keep jerking you around. I get that it messes with people that I've got a compulsion to sync, and then ghost when I can't think of a boundary."

The thing about being a Bishop and an instructor was that the crying of others had long ceased to make him feel uncomfortable.


As Yuan started folding in on himself and continued to apologize for his existence, Mitch kissed him to redirect the waterfall of anxious rambling. Light danced across a shattered prism, colours going wild instead of forced through a rigid Vision.

"You're not going to lose yourself," the Fairest reassured with the intimate distance. "I Promise I won't let that happen. You haven't ruined anything, I think you just care what others think too much," he chuckled, wiping the other's tears and traced the jaw with his thumb. 

"You can give without sacrificing yourself. You have strength beyond the Other's designs. Figuring out that source is why you're here."