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“You’re injured,” Flins murmurs one morning as Illuga is getting ready to head back to Piramida, and Illuga startles so badly he drops his coat.
“Kirya,” he breathes, and almost misses the happy noise Flins makes in response. It’s a chirped sort of noise, distinctly Fae at its core, and Illuga is in love with it, in spite of Flins’ embarrassment.
“It’s undignified,” he’d whined, “and entirely unbefitting of a noble to— to chirp.”
Illuga had huffed a laugh, pressed a kiss to his forehead, and told him: “It’s adorable. Don’t you dare stop.”
Flins had grumbled some more at that, but Illuga still hears those delightfully charming chirps and trills every now and again, so he considers it a win.
“You’re making that face again,” Flins murmurs, shaking Illuga out of his reverie.
He huffs a laugh. “What face, pray tell, would that be?”
Flins hums a note, then snakes a hand out of the fortress of blankets he likes to ensconce himself in whenever Illuga stays over (read: whenever he sleeps in a bed like a human) and wraps it around Illuga’s wrist to pull him closer. “The face that says, ‘I am thinking too much,’” he replies, and slides his thumb under Illuga’s sleeve at his wrist. “You are not wearing your usual dress; your sweater. It is not backless.”
Illuga huffs a laugh. “Astute observation.”
Flins makes a displeased noise. “Are you hiding injuries, Young Master?”
“Silly questions from a man who saw me entirely bare last night,” Illuga responds, and Flins’ lips quirk into a smile. “Was I injured then, álfr?”
“I would not presume myself skilled enough to outwit you in the sport of ‘hiding injuries,’ Young Master.”
Illuga snorts, then turns around and pulls his sweater up off over his head, revealing the scarred expanse of his back— and, more importantly, the angry red lines marring his shoulders. Lines that Flins had put there.
“As you can see, Sir Flins,” Illuga drawls, a little sarcastic as Flins reaches up one hand to press against those very same scars. “I am uninjured, aside from the reminders of your enthusiastic consent last night. Satisfied?”
“Never, where you’re concerned,” Flins murmurs, and Illuga laughs.
“I’d sooner not endure Anleifr’s questions, or, worse, my father’s disapproval,” Illuga says, and shrugs his sweater back on. He hears a mournful noise from Flins at the action, and turns away to hide his smile. “So, no, not injured, just with a man who— woah!”
Quick as a viper, Flins seizes ahold of his wrist again and pulls him back onto the bed, on top of Flins himself, who looks far too pleased about their present circumstances. Illuga shifts his weight, and yep, there it is. Flins doesn’t even look sorry.
He sighs. “You know I have to go back to Piramida at some point today, right?”
Flins raises an eyebrow at him. “‘At some point today,’ you say,” he says, and slides his hands up the back of Illuga’s sweater. “Hmm. Well, that’s very nondescript, Young Master. You ought to be more precise when dealing with fairies, you know.”
“Should I, now?”
“Yes,” Flins replies, and moves his hands up further until Illuga is forced to remove his sweater as it becomes bunched and uncomfortable. “You know, you’re not doing a terribly good job of convincing me that you need to leave for Piramida terribly soon.”
“You’re the one who pulled me into bed, Sir Flins.”
“And you’re the one who stayed,” Flins counters. His hands drift downwards, towards the waistband of Illuga’s trousers, and Illuga, who is sat upright astride Flins’ hips, senses that he will not be leaving for Piramida for a little while longer yet.
Though, he thinks as Flins sits up to kiss him, one hand down the front of his trousers while the other traces the scar at the nape of his neck, that is a problem for future Illuga to deal with.
(Future-Illuga’s reckoning comes far too soon.
“There— There was a raccoon!” Illuga stammers, when the red lines which Flins had clawed into his back are inevitably seen. “A very angry raccoon! It tried to eat Aedon, even! I had to fight it off with a— a— a broomstick!”
“Was this raccoon’s name ‘Flins,’ by any chance?” Nikita asks dryly, and Illuga’s face flames red. In the distance, Anleifr roars with laughter, and in the further distance, Flins sleeps soundly in Illuga’s bed.)