#(he had some grandiose ideas but the man deserves a lot of credit for keeping england out of the war)

[fictionadventurer]

The more I learn about Civil War politics, the more I'm convinced that Lincoln's most impressive and useful leadership trait was that he never let his pride get in the way of doing his job.

Other people in Lincoln's position would have come to Washington with something to prove. They'd have resented the insults and tried to disprove them. They'd have tried to seize power and credit, rejected help, spent a lot of time trying to reach a certain level of respect.

Lincoln's response to, "You're just a backwoods lawyer with no executive experience who makes too many dumb jokes," was pretty much always, "Yeah. And?" He had no interest in petty personal power plays. He had a country to run. There was a war on. It didn't matter what people thought of him so long as the job got done.

He was aware of his personal shortcomings and was always willing to accept advice and help from people who had more knowledge and experience in certain areas. He presided over a chaotic Cabinet full of abrasive personalities who thought they were better and smarter than him, but he kept working with them because they could get the job done. For example: Stanton was absolutely horrible to him when they were both working as lawyers. Just incredibly mean on a personal level. But when Lincoln needed someone to replace Cameron, he swallowed his pride and appointed Stanton as Secretary of War, where Stanton proceeded to be mean to everyone in the world, but he whipped that department into shape and kept it running efficiently through a very chaotic war. Pretty much no one except Lincoln would have been able to put up with that. He could put up with people who were personally difficult if they could do the job he needed them to do--which he was only able to do because his own ego didn't get in the way.

Lincoln's example is a prime demonstration of how humility isn't underrating yourself--it's being so secure in your own abilities and identity that you don't need to attack anyone or defend yourself to prove your worth. He knew his shortcomings, but he also knew his strengths. He was willing to give other people credit for successes and take blame upon himself for failures if it kept things running smoothly. He was secure enough in his own power that he could deal generously--but firmly--with people who tried to undermine him. In a city full of huge egos, in a profession that rewards puffed-up pride, that levelheaded humility is an extremely rare trait--which is what made it so impressive and effective.

[watchmegetobsessed]

I Hear A Symphony - Harry Styles

Extra blurb for Floating Through Space!

a/n: this idea came to me out of the blue and i suck at controling myself so i just had to write it! it’s an extra in the universe of FTS, just a little moment for our power couple in their life after the grammys!

the fic again contains an already existing song, credits to the artist, it’s going to be linked in the right place, make sure to listen to it when you see the vid!

pairing: Harry x Famous!Reader

word count: ~2k

masterlist

It’s been two weeks since the first time Harry told you he loved you. Fourteen entire days since the man you’ve been with these past three months told you he loved you, not just with his actions but with his words as well.

It happened so randomly, so out of the blue. You were at his place and following a long and dreading day the two of you decided to have a shower together. He asked if he could wash your hair and you enjoyed the way his fingers massaged your scalp, the intimacy of such a simple yet heartwarming moment ending the day on a wonderful note.

As the water was washing away the soap of your body he leaned down, captured your lips in a simple kiss before the words fell from his lips.

“I love you,” he said, his eyes searching for yours as first you looked down at the floor before your gaze meeting his, lips parted, heart pounding in your chest.

You wanted to say it back, it was on the tip of your tongue, but no word came out your mouth, a slight panic rushing through your senses from his confession. So you pulled him down and kissed him hard, hoping he can feel that you meant to say it, but you weren’t ready to actually form the words just yet.

It’s been eating you away for so long, because the feeling has been there for a long time, probably since the Grammy’s when the two of you sang your heart out in your duet, but your body is plotting against your mind, not letting you say it the way you want to. But you feel like the moment has come and being the dramatic artist that you are, you want it to be big. Because Harry deserves a grandiose romantic gesture.

You’ve been working on your new album for a while now, but needless to say that when you met Harry, you wrote quite a few songs about him that demanded place on your upcoming record, but so far you haven’t shown him any of them and you have a major reason for that.

The very first one you started writing about him turned out to be a massive song. Not because it has a full ballad as the lyrics, it barely have just a few verses. It’s because what started as just a simple melody for the piano soon turned into a monumental symphony with a full symphonic band and you decided to compose the entire melody, to all of the instruments yourself, because it was the only way the song would feel entirely yours. And Harry’s.

Recordings have been going on for weeks just for this one song, because you needed it to be absolutely perfect since it’s been in consideration to be the title of the album. Now the song is done and you are ready to show it to Harry and finally tell him how you really feel about him.

Sitting at your dining table you watch him type out an email to Jeff, eyebrows furrowed as he is still chewing on the last bit of his dinner. His unruly curls are covering his forehead and you smile to yourself as you reach over and push them back, making him glance up at you.

“What’s gotten you so smiley?” he asks, putting his phone away to turn all his attention to you.

“You,” you tell him, tilting your head to the side.

“Me? And why is that?” he smirks, grabbing your hand before you could pull it back and bringing it to his mouth he gently kisses your knuckles.

“What are you doing tomorrow afternoon?” you ask, ignoring his question.

“I’m guessing you are about to tell me,” he smirks, letting go of your hand so he can rest his chin in his palms. “What were you thinking about?”

“Would you like to come to my recording session?” Harry’s eyebrows shoot up from surprise, he surely wasn’t expecting this.

“You want me there?” He knows how you like to keep your works to yourself until you feel comfortable enough to show it to someone outside of your little team. You’ve only shared with him bits and bites of songs, nothing major, so this invitation is clearly a big deal for the both of you.

“Yes. I want… I have something to show you.”

He could tease you about finally showing him something, or crack a joke about being so into him that you wrote a song about him, but he doesn’t do anything of that sort. Instead, he just smiles back at you with so much adoration and love filling his eyes, it could make your chest burst. Leaning closer he kisses your lips softly before pecking the tip of your nose as well.

“Would love to join you.”

You hold onto Harry’s hand for dear life on your way to the studio where you’re going to have your final recording of the song. His song. A whole orchestra is going to be playing for you and while you’ve recorded the song in layers before, today you’re gonna perform it all together for the first time, every instrument playing at the same time as you sing. You really wanted to have a version of this sort, so you know what it’ll sound like when you perform it later with the prerecorded music.

You can tell that Harry is just as excited as you are, but he is keeping it bottled inside, not bugging you about what he is about to hear. He knows it’s going to be about him, you wouldn’t want to show him if it wasn’t.

When you pass by several studios and head to the grand room, the only place that fits the whole orchestra in it at the same time, Harry seems to be growing curious, but still doesn’t question anything, just follows you silently.

“Hello everyone!” you call out upon walking into the room, the majority of the band is already there, greeting you happily, especially when they see who you’re with. “Um, Harry is going to join us for the recording, hope it’s alright,” you announce with a nervous chuckle and you get a few knowing looks. Everyone in the room knows it’s about him, you’ve been an item publicly long enough and it’s not a hard task to put two and two together.

Harry waves around with a few short hellos and how are you’s as he takes a seat at the front of the room, facing the orchestra and essentially, you when you’ll be singing. You sit next to him and before the recording starts, you feel like you owe a few words for him.

“I’ve been working on this song for… the longest, because it started with just a piano, but then I kept adding more and more until it grew into a whole orchestra,” you admit chuckling and it brings a smirk to his lips as well, his dimples digging into his cheeks. Then you take a deep breath and try to calm your nerves for the next part you’re about to tell him. “Two weeks ago you… told me you loved me and… I’m sorry for never saying it back…”

“I didn’t expect you to,” he speaks up softly. “I didn’t say it to hear you say it back. I know it takes you a lot to figure out your feelings, Y/N.”

“But I have them figured out,” you reply. “I just…” You take a deep breath, feeling yourself getting emotional already. “This song is the first one I wrote about you.”

“The first? So there’s more?” he asks with a small smirk.

“Of course,” you admit chuckling. “But this one… is the most important one. So I want you to hear it.”

Harry nods and doesn’t question you about never finishing your trail of thoughts about your feelings. He just lets you do your thing knowing that it’ll become a whole sooner or later.

Leaning in you kiss him shortly before you stand up and join all the incredible musicians and get ready for the recording. Harry gets a headset so he can hear everything clearly and when everyone is settled, the recording starts. The song kicks out with you singing acapella.

“I used to hear a simple song, that was until you came along. Now in its place is something new, I hear it when I look at you.”

Then the piano starts playing and eventually the violins join softly before you start singing the second verse, making the melody flow perfectly. You keep your eyes off of Harry, but you can feel his intense stare on you as he listens.

“With simple songs, I wanted more, perfection is so quick to bore. You are my beautiful, by far our flaws are who we really are."

The piano and the violins continue playing, getting more and more dynamic with each played note and you feel a shudder run down your spine. The whole song starts to grow as the wind instruments join in, slowly pulling the melody up to its peek that’s about to come soon. And then it happens. Your eyes find Harry’s when you start to sing the next verse, the whole orchestra playing behind you at its fullest.

“I used to hear a simple song, that was until you came along. You took my broken melody and now I hear a symphony…”

The melody continues as you add some vocals, singing your whole heart and soul out, your eyes still set on Harry before suddenly, the instruments cut out and you sing your last line with just the piano playing the last few chords along with you.

“And now I hear a symphony.”

The room grows quiet and your chest is heaving, vision blurry as you couldn’t stop yourself from tearing up. Your emotions washed over you, sweeping you off your feet and now your bare soul is lying in front of Harry’s feet who is still staring at you frozen.

At first you panic at his lack of reaction, but then you see him wipe his eyes and you realize he is crying. Just as you step off the podium and head in his way, he takes his headset off and starts walking in your way and the whole orchestra start cheering and clapping when he envelopes you in his arms, holding you so tight you can barely breathe. You laugh through your tears when he lifts you up and twirls you around in the air before setting you back down and kissing you all over your face, wherever he reaches you. Cupping his face in your hands you pull back a little so you can look into his glistening eyes.

“I love you,” you finally tell him with shaky lips, a weight finally falling off your shoulders and chest now that you’ve said it.

“Oh baby, I love you too,” he smiles, before pulling you in for a kiss that’s soaked by your tears, but by far the sweetest you’ve shared. “I love you so much,” he mumbles against your lips.

“What do you think about the song?” you ask finally pulling away, wiping your tears off your cheeks, not even caring that there is a whole orchestra watching the two of you interact.

“I’m pretty sure this is what they play when you enter Heaven,” he chuckles making you laugh as you smack his chest playfully. “No, but really. It’s brilliant. I’ve never heard anything like this. And having you sing it live for me with the whole orchestra… My mind is blown, baby. It’s going to be hard to top it with anything,” he adds chuckling.

“That was my plan all along,” you admit with a laugh before you pull him down for another kiss.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

[051093]

longing | v

wc: 2852

pairing: jihyun “v” kim x reader

genre: canon compliant, angst w/ an actual happy ending bc the game’s version wasn’t enough for me, reunions! yay, platonic jumin x reader

description: it’s been two years since you last saw v, but he reappears where you least expect it — at the r.f.a. party. and his feelings haven’t changed. not one bit.

my masterlist.

The party is so full of love and light that you can’t help but go the entire night with the biggest smile on your face.

Initially, you were nervous, and so were the other members. Two years ago was the catastrophe with Rika; it’d taken so long for the group to heal, and you weren’t sure if they were emotionally recovered enough to hold a successful party.

But everyone did their part as diligently as they could, from Jumin using his massive network to publicize the fundraiser, Luciel layering the building and guest information with cybersecurity, and Jaehee’s decorations and catering and other party logistics. Yoosung and Zen’s moral support and guest suggestions gave you plenty of work to do as well. As a result of your combined efforts, the party is positively glistening on this beautiful night, containing a record-breaking number of guests and an atmosphere filled with camaraderie.

You’re so busy that you seem to be in three different places at once, but you don’t mind. This is the happiest you and the members have been in a while. You can feel it, and you love it.

When you finally get the chance to catch your breath, you come across a group of five familiar figures standing together near the stage, and you beam at the sight of them.

“Hey, you guys!” You call, heading towards them.

They turn and smile at the sight of you. “Hey, you,” Zen says warmly, draping a fond arm over your shoulder. “I feel like I haven’t seen you all night. How’re things going?”

“Great,” you return with a relieved sigh. “It’s an amazing party. Everyone seems so happy.”

“All thanks to you!” Yoosung chirps. “You invited so many great guests.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Luciel so happy,” Jaehee says with an exasperated smile. “Although I can’t help but continue to qustion whether or not longcat’s upbringing was ethical.”

“Of course it was!” Seven assures with a bright grin. “I would never condone animal abuse.”

“Questionable,” Jumin mutters into his champagne.

“Hey, hey, we’re getting off topic,” Yoosung cuts in. “We were giving Y/N our congratulations for putting the party together.”

A chorus of gratitude ensues. You laugh, embarrassed. “Ah, I only did my job.”

“Humble as always,” Zen tsks. “Take more pride for an accomplishment like this, babe.”

“I am proud! But I can’t possibly take all the credit,” you say, smiling. “We couldn’t have done it without each other.”

“That’s right.” Jumin tips his champagne glass your way. “Congratulations, Y/N. And congratulations to all of us as well.”

“Congratulations to all of us,” Zen repeats, holding up his glass. “First and last time I’ll ever quote that pompous ass.”

Six glasses clink merrily. Amiable conversation continues for a few minutes before Yoosung nearly drops his champagne in remembering that he left an entire table undecorated. He and Saeyoung hurry off to handle it. Zen later spots a group of women in the corner practically drooling over him and makes a flamboyant stroll their way, charm in full force. Jumin receives word that his father’s arrived, and Jaehee nearly sprints to meet the chairman at the door — but Jumin lingers behind after she’s gone.

“Y/N.” He turns to you with a thoughtful gaze. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

The expression on his face says it all. You can’t help but sigh. “I think I already know what it is.”

He chuckles. “I apologize. It feels like I’m nagging. I’m just worrying about you, you know that.”

You do know that, and it’s been that way for all of the last two years. Jumin and you formed a close bond after V left, and you’ve leaned on him for everything from advice to support or just a listening ear. You found solace in his wisdom and honesty, and V’s departure would’ve been all the more painful to you if Jumin hadn’t been around.

“Go on, then,” you say.

“Exactly two years ago today, the first party you organized was cancelled because of V’s injury. Anniversaries tend to bring back memories, wanted or not,” Jumin says. “You seem to be doing well tonight, but you also hide your feelings quite well. So, if the truth is different from how it looks…tell me.”

You fall silent, thinking.

Every time you close your eyes, the ghost of V’s face is painted against the inside of your eyelids, his warm smile, kind eyes, loving gaze and all, and there’s no denying the poignant sadness that’s existed within you since he left. You miss him; your worry grows more and more every day not knowing when he’ll come back, if ever.

But, at the same time, you’ve been met with so much support from the RFA that you’ve been able to fall back into routine. You’ve learned to coexist with the emptiness that V left behind. You’ve found it in you to smile again.

You don’t verbalize any of this to Jumin, but you know he already knows.

“It is how it looks,” you say, a small smile appearing on your face. “I’m doing well.”

His voice softens. “You’re sure?”

You meet his eyes steadily. “I’m sure.”

“Good.” He straightens, satisfied. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“Thank you for checking on me, though.” You reach over to touch his hand. “Thank you for everything, Jumin.”

“On the first day you entered our chatroom, I had an inkling that you had a strong resolve and an even stronger heart. You’ve done nothing but prove me right since.” Jumin gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. “So I should be thanking you, Y/N. For your will power and friendship.”

The two of you exchange smiles before Jumin glances at the entrance. “I should go greet my father.”

“Yes, of course.”

“You’ll be okay on your own?” He gives you a nod of farewell. “Right, then. I’ll see you later.”

He strides into the crowd, and you’re alone once again.

You meant what you told Jumin about being okay. Nevertheless, the conversation leaves you in a bit of a weird mood, and you want to get some space from the crowd. You remember that Jaehee mentioned a storage room behind the stage and make your way towards it.

. . . .

Jumin is about to respond to something his father said when an unfamiliar man steps through the door.

The stranger has cream-colored hair, striking mint eyes, a baby pink suit, lanky proportions. He’s unlike anyone Jumin’s ever seen, but familiar in ways he can’t lay a finger on, as if he’s met a different version of him. The stranger looks around nervously, then turns to speak to a second man who follows him in shortly after — and Jumin’s eyes widen.

This second man he knows.

This second man he knows better than anyone.

“Father,” he says, cutting off the older man in the middle of his sentence. “I — there’s something urgent I must tend to.”

Jumin sees Jaehee’s concerned expression from the corner of his eye. “Assistant Kang, introduce my father to the owner of the winery, if you will. I remember my father saying he was interested in purchasing a vineyard.”

“Yes, Mr. Han,” Jaehee says. Jumin knows Jaehee doesn’t like being alone with his father, but desperate measures. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes.” Jumin looks away without giving them a second glance. “Forgive me.”

He can’t take his eyes off the man as he walks towards him. Same unmistakable aqua hair, same tall frame and lean build, same air of elegance.

Something comes undone inside him when he realizes that his best friend is back, something he didn’t realize had been coiled up all this time. He lets out a shuddering breath. His Adam’s apple trembles.

Jumin doesn’t say a word, just clasps a hand to the taller man’s shoulder. Striking, colorful eyes meet his.

“V,” he says. “It’s about damn time.”

V smiles at the sight of him. “Jumin. It’s wonderful to see you again.”

“And you,” Jumin returns, his hand dropping back to his side. “It’s been exactly two years. You always were timely.”

“You’ve been keeping track.”

“I’m not the only one.”

The effect his words have on V is immediate: his face changes, his eyes taking on something Jumin can only describe as longing. He knows only because the same look appeared on your face when he asked you about V.

Two years, Jumin realizes, and neither of your feelings have budged an inch. Two years, and you and V still yearn for each other like it’s still day one.

It took his friend a hell of a lot of pain and loss to get here, but he’s finally found love. Not the kind that’s all-consuming and toxic but radiant and happy, the kind you both deserve. The kind you both have.

“She did all this?” V asks, looking over his shoulder towards the main hall.

Jumin nods, then follows his gaze. It was your idea to ask the art organization you invited to help you rent out a museum for the night, and the result is magnificent. Glimmering. Grandiose. Everything that the members could’ve dreamed the RFA party to become. And it really was all thanks to you.

“I last saw her near the stage,” he says, sparing V the trouble of asking. “She won’t have wandered far.”

A few moments of silence pass. V looks for something to say, anything that could accurately convey everything he’s feeling. He settles with drawing Jumin in for a tight embrace.

That says more than any words could.

They part. V turns and steps into the crowd, a head of mint hair walking through the throng of partygoers.

After his friend has left, Jumin turns to the weirdly familiar younger boy with the odd hair and anxious face.

“And who are you?”

. . . .

The “storage room” turns out to be an intricately decorated space with a dazzling chandelier hanging from the ceiling. It looks looks a ballroom more than a closet, but it’s stacked high with boxes and the air smells of dust when you walk in. Though you’re disappointed the room wasn’t put to use for the party, you’re glad you can use its emptiness to gather your thoughts.

For the thousandth time, you find yourself looking back how things were two years ago — how you and V met. Eleven days was all the two of you had, eleven days of chaos and danger and confusion, but just that short period alone was enough. He fell for your unmoving kindness and care towards him, and his consideration and sincerity rendered you deeply infatuated with him in return.

But you found a love that couldn’t yet take flight, one that consisted of things you left unsaid and emotions you swept under the rug. Neither of you were ready. The situation was far too volatile.

Sometimes, you find yourself wondering if there really was anything there. Maybe the two of you just latched onto each other because the circumstances forced your hands. Maybe it was never love, just dependence.

Then, you remember the way his entire demeanor softened when he looked at you, the tenderness in his voice whenever he said your name, the feelings of his arms around you, secure, safe. You remember the sparks and the unspoken yearning that crackled whenever you were in his proximity. You remember his promise that he’d return to you. That he’d love again. And it’s due to this collection of memories you still have faith in what you once had.

“V,” you say with a sad smile. “I hope you’re somewhere safe and sound. And I hope you’re learning to love yourself little by little, wherever you are.

“Take all the time you need. Just…come back to me when you’re ready, okay?”

Silence.

“I’ll be waiting,” you finish weakly.

The room is now heavy and melancholy. You take a deep breath, trying to get a hold of yourself.

Behind you, there’s the sound of cloth shifting against cloth.

Shit! You nearly jump out of your skin. Did someone come in? The room wasn’t empty? Your face flushes crimson at the idea of one of the members or, worse, one of the party guests overhearing your dramatic soliloquy. Someone walks towards you, slow footsteps gradually getting louder. Zen? Jumin? They both walk with that slow saunter. You squeeze your eyes shut in an embarrassed flinch, your mouth opening to say something —

“You won’t need to anymore,” the stranger says.

You’re ripped from present day and brought back to two years ago. Your mind floods with memories you weren’t prepared to relive, all triggered by that achingly familiar voice.

You turn around, your breath hitched in your throat.

So many little things about him have changed. His hair is a few shades paler than before, the sunlight bleaching his his locks from his previous turquoise to a pale periwinkle; the definition of his jawline has sharpened from two years of travel; he wears a beige overcoat and a collared white shirt, an outfit that’s usually too formal for his liking.

Most notably, however, you notice that his entire aura is different.

You see none of the anguish and burden that used to fill his stare. Instead, there’s something you can only describe as radiance , so pure and warm that it reminds you of the morning sun’s rays spilling through a cracked window. Of holding frozen hands close to a crackling campfire. He’s the same in many ways, but brighter and calmer, more confident in his own skin.

Whatever he left to accomplish, he succeeded.

He comes closer, taking tentative steps until you can smell his familiar cologne; you’ve forgotten tall he is, and you have to lift your chin to maintain eye contact. The toes of his dress shoes touch the tips of your kitten heels.

“You’re back,” you whisper.

He nods. “I am.”

There are so many things you want to say to him, but you can’t think of a single one right now. It’s like his presence is driving you into sensory overload, and you’re only acutely aware of the rate at which your heart hammers against your ribcage, so loudly you swear he’s close enough to hear it. The two of you spend a few moments standing in silence, taking in the sight and sound of each other without a word.

Then, unable to stand it any longer, you move towards him. The last thing V hears is your sigh of relief against the shell of his ear before you wrap your arms around his neck.

The first time you hugged him, he’d stood in shocked silence, his arms staying frozen by his side. At the time, he was unable to accept his affections for you when Rika was still so prominent in his heart and mind.

But he readily holds you now, his arms circling around your waist, pulling you close with so much fervor that it feels more like a promise than a hug.

You stay entwined for as long as you see fit and then pull away, but V doesn’t let you go far; he hooks a slender finger beneath your chin and leans in close, finally lowering his mouth to yours.

It’s a wonderful blur that you barely remember. The pressure of his lips on your own causes your back to dip slightly, but he’s quick to steady you with an hand against the small of your back. He kisses you gently, deeply, as if the ground’s disappeared beneath his feet and you’re the only thing keeping him afloat; his knuckles turn pale where he grips your waist and your jaw, his lips flushed pink where they touch yours. You bring your hands to the sides of his neck, rising up on your tippy toes, thinking to yourself, this is entirely worth the wait.

Your pulse continues to pound a dizzying rhythm long after his lips have left yours. He nuzzles his forehead against your own, his lashes splayed softly against your skin.

“You have completely,” he says, “completely enamored me, Y/N. I’ve fallen for your kindness and purity, your stability and courage — I’ve fallen for you. And I’m so sorry that it took me this long to realize it.

“Even when I was thousands of miles away, you were with me. I heard your voice in the wind. I saw your face when I closed my eyes. I dreamt of you when I fell asleep.” His eyes swim. “I’ve longed for you for as long as I’ve known you, all two years and eleven days.”

You don’t even notice you’re crying until he brushes your tears away with caring hands.

“I love you, my angel. I’ve missed you so much.” His fingers tremble, but his voice remains steady. “And I’m ready to spend the rest of my life proving it to you, if only you’ll let me.”

You taste salt on your tongue where his tears have fallen, but you don’t care, tangling a hand in his hair and kissing him until he knows your answer.

Yes, yes, yes.

[tmariea]

The Birds and the (Oblivious) Bees

Zaveid attempts to give Sorey and Mikleo The Talk.  They are not impressed.

It is very possible, in fact, that they decide to be little shits about it.

For @neodiji​ for giving me the idea, and then letting me lift some of the lines directly from our conversation.

Read on AO3

“How in the world do you not know better by now?” Mikleo hissed at Sorey through his teeth.

“Ah, sorry,” Sorey replied, and hung his head while scratching the back of his neck.  His attention turned quickly back to Zaveid, who was seated across from them at a table in the inn lobby, with a mug of ale clutched in one hand.  How many he had drank before that was anyone’s guess.  The way he looked at the two of them, Sorey knew they were in trouble.  As Mikleo said, he should have known it, from the moment Zaveid slung his arms around their shoulders and said he had some worldly advice to share.  It was even worse in that Rose, Lailah and Edna had taken up residence on one of the couches nearby to watch.  The only small mercy was that it was late enough at night that the other patrons had cleared out, and the innkeeper retreated to a back room.

“So, Sheps, I saw how you looked at our Mikky boy here in the sauna this afternoon.  Trickling sweat, flushed cheeks and all that.”  He paused to wiggle his eyebrows and take another swig from his mug.

“If you continue that thought, I will turn your ale to water.”

Zaveid gasped in horror and clutched his ale to his bare chest.  “You wouldn’t.”

“He would.”

“Anyways, what I wanted to ask is if Old Zenrus ever taught the two of you about the important stuff.”

“Well, sure, Gramps taught us all sorts of important stuff,” Sorey said, hesitation in his voice.  The sauna and their education struck him as rather unrelated subjects, but he continued, “Like reading, and writing, and history, oh, and some survival skills, too.”

“No, I’m talking about the birds and the bees.”

“There was that unfortunate period when we were six when Sorey wanted to be an Elysialark.  So yes, unfortunately, we know all about birds.  Less about bees.”

Sorey crossed his arms and looked away from Mikleo.  “Hey, you didn’t mind!  You were just as interested.”

“Not interested enough to try to look like one.”  Mikleo reached over to twitch one of his earrings.  No matter how many times he did that, it always made Sorey blush.

“Is it even possible for the two of you to tone it down for a few minutes?” Edna added.  When they looked over, she had retreated back into her role as mildly-disinterested spectator.

Zaveid, on the other hand, was looking at them with a lot of interest.  “Alright, it’s obvious that you’ve thought about it at least.”

“Thought about what?”

“You know, bumping uglies.”

Those words rang no bells for Sorey.  It didn’t seem like any of their answers had made headway either, so perhaps the best strategy would be to keep silent.  Zaveid would give up eventually.

That was not the case.  He set his mug down on the table, and began to lean forward slightly as he continued to talk in riddles.  “Assault with a friendly weapon.  Practicing with his staff.  Gland to gland combat.”  He paused here to insert another eyebrow waggle.

That, along with the increasingly suggestive tone of voice, was enough for Sorey to put two and two together.  Zaveid was asking them about their sex life.  The metaphors were exceedingly strange – and why in the world were they all about fighting? – but for some reason they existed, and Zaveid was asking them about their sex life.  Boy was it a good thing he had a bit of blush left from Mikleo playing with his earring.  His current blush could just join the party.  He glanced at Mikleo to see if he had reached the same conclusion.  His bright cheeks and a tiny nod confirmed.

Zaveid was too wrapped up in his terrible metaphors to notice the exchange.  He barreled on forward, oblivious to the fact that the two boys on the other side of the table looked even more as if they would like to be anywhere else. “Taking an adult nap.  Churning the butter.  Dipping the stinger in the honey.  None of these ring a bell?”

“None at all,” Mikleo said.  Sorey didn’t miss the sly lilt in his tone, but he doubted anyone with a less intimate knowledge of Mikleo’s voice would catch it.  It spoke mischief.  The light in his eyes even more so when they glanced at each other again.  If Zaveid was going to make them sit through this, they were not going to make it easy.  Sorey gave a tiny incline of his head, and then settled back to watch.  He knew his inability to lie would give them up, so he would let Mikleo do the talking.

“Maybe if you described it?” Mikleo continued, smoothly covering up the beat left by their silent conversation.

A small noise drew Sorey’s attention to the group behind Zaveid.  Rose’s face was red with suppressed laughter, and she was failing even at that task.  Looking at her made him want to start laughing too, so he turned back in time to see Zaveid making a grandiose gesture with his arms, which flung his mug of ale to one side and threatened to slop the contents.  This was no good for Sorey’s restrained mirth either, but he did his best to keep his face in check.

“I thought you would never ask.”

They thought they would never ask either.

Mikleo was visibly restraining himself from putting a hand to his forehead, Sorey could tell in the way that his fingers on the table twitched.  But he put on a brilliant show with a face that was both curious and confused, and said, “Please, go ahead.”

“Alright, now when a man’s assets have arisen…” Zaveid began.

Sorey didn’t quite catch his next words past the distraction of Rose leaning over and burying her face in Lailah’s lap.  Lailah herself had pulled out a fan of cards to hide her blush, and Edna continued to look unimpressed.  As far as himself, he was certain he must be blushing, too, and attempting to keep the corners of his mouth from twitching was not going very well.  Zaveid seemed to either be too tipsy or too wrapped up in his speech to notice.

The innuendo problem never improved.  It was perhaps impressive, that Zaveid managed to waltz his way through an entire description of sex, accompanied by a crude gesture or two, without ever mentioning such important words as ‘penis’ or ‘orgasm.’  Sorey was left thinking it was a good thing they already knew about sex; if they didn’t they probably would have walked away from the conversation more confused when they started.

“So, do you get it now?” Zaveid finally asked, once he had wound down.

Mikleo, who definitely deserved a prize for remaining calm and collected through the whole thing, looked him right in the eye and said. “No.”

“Oh come on!  You seriously still don’t understand?  Man the two of you are beyond choir-boy pure.”

“Could you maybe put it in more plain terms?” He suggested.  “All of these metaphors are rather obscure.”  On the couches behind Zaveid, Rose still had her face buried against Lailah’s knees to stifle her laughter, but a heavy snort broke through anyway.

Zaveid scowled impressively before draining his mug.  At this point, even he seemed to be reaching the breaking point on his ridiculous metaphors.  He set the mug down with a hollow clank and a few choice mutterings on oblivious youngsters.  “I’m talking about sex!”

They had done it.  They had gotten him to break.  Goal accomplished, Sorey decided it was safe to add his two cents again.   He clapped a fist into his open palm and said with enthusiasm, “Ah, Mikleo, that’s great!  We have a term for it now!  It’s called ‘sex.’”

“Oh thank the Lords,” Mikleo replied, dropping the innocent act and the oblivious face.  He let a shit-eating grin creep into its place.  “It was getting really tiring having to say, ‘do you want to do that thing that feels really good, you know, where you put your hard dick up my ass.’  Far too much of a mouthful, really.”

That was the end of Rose’s control.  She rolled over and clutched her stomach while she roared with laughter.  Even Edna had drooped forward to rest her forehead on her propped up umbrella while her shoulders shook.  Lailah looked mostly shocked at Mikleo’s use of language, but she was definitely hiding a few giggles behind her cards along with her red face.

“Wait, so you’re telling me you knew what I was talking about the whole time?” Zaveid demanded, while leaning forward towards them with wide eyes.

“It did take us a few metaphors in – Mikleo wasn’t kidding when he said they were obscure – but yes.”

“And you just let me keep going?”

“Well, you were the one who started asking about our sex life in the first place.  You brought it on yourself,” Mikleo said, crossing his arms.  He looked rather pleased with himself.

Zaveid flung up his hands and groaned.  “You know Micky-Boy you are a damn better actor than I ever gave you credit for.  But at any rate, I think you owe me another ale for going through all that.”

“I don’t know, it seemed like you were enjoying yourself,” Edna input from behind.  She had stood so she could lean on her umbrella, with her normal deadpan expression firmly back in place.

Zaveid turned around, just now seeming to remember that the three girls had been behind them for the entire conversation.  “Not you too.”

“Well of course me too.  Wouldn’t want to miss out on the fun.  But now if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll take my leave before you start asking for details.  That is information I do not need.”  She slung her umbrella over her shoulder and picked her way around the empty tables toward the stairs.

“I think Edna has the right idea,” Sorey said.  “It’s late; I’m pretty beat.”  Not to mention, he was in favor of escaping before Zaveid started asking for details as well.  He did hold up a placating hand though, and add, “I will get you that ale, just, tomorrow alright?”

He stood from the table and took Mikleo’s hand.  After all they had just sat through, this should have been nothing, but it drew a small blush from his water seraph anyway, which made him grin.  Mikleo just scowled and started across the room as well, dragging Sorey along behind him.

Once they were tucked into the shadow of the stairs, Sorey nudged a bit closer and murmured in his ear, “You know what else is a mouthful?”

In the dim light, he could just see Mikleo squeeze his eyes shut and press his free hand to his forehead.  “That metaphor was nearly as awful as Zaveid’s.  And you do realize he can probably still hear you?  You’re just giving him more ammo.”

He pretended to think on the matter for the moment before saying, “That’s alright.”

“Well then, I’ll accept your offer,” Mikleo said, and resumed tugging him up the stairs.

I am here to tell you that the line “When a man’s assets have arisen” is a real line which I heard someone use with my own two ears, while we were trying to give a friend the sex talk. Everyone in the room except for our poor confused friend just died laughing, and it was supremely unhelpful, but I will never, ever forget it.