Half of What You Think of Me

Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story. There is no other version of this story.

Cobalt liked to think of himself as composed.

Not subservient. Not repressed. Not so emotionally constipated he’d be considered legally dead in most countries.

Composed.

He needed to be composed- he was the captain of the guard, entrusted with a mission straight from the queen herself. He couldn’t jeopardize his plans by letting ridiculous notions like doubt plague his mind.

He didn’t doubt the queen- bless her heart and the legacy she will leave behind- he didn’t doubt his mission- however ethically dubious it may be- and he didn’t doubt himself.

And he had no doubt in his mind that he was absolutely, inconsolably, fucked.

“Want a hit?”

“What?” He snapped out of his thoughts and into reality. Or at the very least, whatever warped pseudo-reality that was Avarice’s couch.

“You’ve been staring at my joint for, like, ten minutes. Do you want some?” The other man gestured the cigarette towards him, locs falling across his shoulders.

“Oh! Uh, no, thanks.” Cobalt shook his head. At least he wasn’t staring at Avarice’s face. Just his hands. Scarred, calloused hands like his, but they weren’t like his, weren’t they? They weren’t made from years of training and fighting for a war that would never come, at least not in the way his were. Was he still fighting, like him? Maybe they had that in common-

“You’re zoning out again,” Avarice noted, taking a drag with a sigh. “Sure you’re not already high?” He smirked, edges of his chipped teeth showing, sending a jolt of warmth into Cobalt’s chest.

“I’m sure,” he replied, eyes darting to literally anything that wasn’t Avarice’s hands and the body attached to them. “You know, funny thing, I’ve never even gotten high before.”

“Really? Don’t lootbags like you buy drugs like candy? I’ve been to yacht parties, man- you have no idea how much cocaine old-money stooges have just lying around.” Avarice’s hands- stop staring stop staring- gesticulated rapidly as he talked, an odd sense of nostalgia tinging his voice.

“You know you’re telling all of this to one of the highest powers in the country, right?” Cobalt laughed, feeling strangely at ease with the conversation topic. Avarice could talk about torture methods and he’d be all ears just to hear his voice- please shut up now.

“Yeah, well, your record isn’t squeaky clean either, is it?”

No, no it isn’t. That's why he’s with Avarice in the first place; he needed information on how the city’s underbelly operated, and learned the hard way that he stuck out like a sore thumb. Avarice was more than willing to tell him what he needed- for a price.

Which was why he was so profoundly fucked- he shouldn’t be enlisting unprofessional assistance for his mission, he shouldn’t be discussing drugs with them, and he most certainly shouldn’t feel more at home with them than anyone else.

Because he had to leave eventually.

“Hey, ever heard of shotgunning?”

-

“Uh, nope. Sounds violent.” Cobalt seemed confused, a very clear sign to Avarice that he should really shut the fuck up right now.

“It’s not. Not if you do it right.”

He’s not even high enough to have that as an excuse.

“It’s just me breathing smoke into your mouth. If you want to, I mean.” 

Oh well. Since when has common sense ever stopped him? 

At least Cobalt seemed curious. “Have you ever done it before?”

“Yeah, with a couple exes,” he noted, slinging an arm across the couch. There were significantly less clothes involved then, but Cobalt didn’t need to know that. Not yet, anyway.

“So, uh, what, you’re flirting with me right now? Is that what’s going on?” Cobalt nearly fell off the couch, choking on his saliva while forcing a laugh.

Shit. Fuck. Insert third expletive. Fix. This.

“Don’t flatter yourself, boss man. Just wanted to show off,” he shrugged. 

He wasn’t completely lying, he was a show off. Pushing limits was his thing. That’s why he was working and making drug-based small talk with the fucking captain of the knight.

He’s not entirely sure how he even ended up here, just that he needed rent money and the captain’s complete lack of street smarts was the best thing to ever happen to his bank account.

He did not know when he started feeling high as a kite just by seeing Cobalt’s smile, or how he got dumb enough to do something about it.

It’s bullshit to care. He’s not a child, he knows Cobalt’s world is far too big for him. 

He had to leave eventually.

“I think I want to do it. The shotgunning, I mean.”

-

“Really?” Avarice raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Cobalt choked out. Maybe getting high would make this situation even a little bit less awkward. Also he’s curious, sue him.

“Kay, then. Get over here,” the man waved a hand, beckoning him over.

If it was embarrassing how quickly Cobalt moved towards Avarice, Avarice said nothing about it. If it was weird that their position had Cobalt between Avarice’s legs, Avarice also said nothing and he’d better keep it that way or else Cobalt will hurl himself out the fucking window.

“Is this okay? Am I too close?” He asked, inches away from the other man’s face. He smelled like cheap wine and overpriced cologne.

“You’re doing great, boss man. Just stay still and keep your mouth open, ‘kay?”

He nodded, because his chest was too tight to form words.

Avarice smirked. “Good boy.”

Her majesty the queen please do not let that awaken something in me, do not make me want to hear that again, I can’t hear that again- I can’t be good for you- I want to be good for you- let me good for you-

Avarice took a drag.

-

Avarice knew he had thought it several times before, but Cobalt was so fucking pretty.

Hot-chocolate eyes with smooth dark skin and scars on all the right places, he’s a doll. 

He’s not Avarice, worn down and ragged and chipped.

He pushed the thought away as he blew into Cobalt’s mouth, jaw agape.

It’s a euphoric few seconds, just being with him, blissfully aware of skin against skin and Cobalt’s scent of copper and sweat and his eyes- it’s perfect.

At least until Cobalt started hacking his lungs out.

“Fuck, sorry, should’ve warned you about that,” he said, reaching out in an attempt to comfort him. 

Cobalt pushed away, barely missing his hands, standing up. “I’m- I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”

The room went silent. The only noise from the broken AC and the bustle of the city from the open doors to the balcony. He could see the palace in the distance, the sun setting alongside it.

“It’s getting late- I should head back to the palace.”

-

A hand clutched his sleeve.

“You can stay- tell them you’re on an overnight expedition or something.”

That would be nice. It’s not like anyone would really care if he was missing.

He’d sleep in Avarice’s apartment in a heartbeat- It’s dingy and old, and it’s real. Realer than the adorned walls of his palace bedroom and the people guarding the doors.

But he can’t. Why make things harder than they needed to be?

“Maybe next time.”

-

At least there’s a next time.

“See ya later, boss man.”

-

At least there’s a next time.