Able inhaled too sharply for his sore ribs and had to hold his breath a minute while he worked feeling into his stiff body and blinked in the light. The world through the window glistened white and pink like a pearl.
"What are you doing over there?" Lark was still lying on the bed, only now he was facing Able and rubbing his eyes. His skin somehow glowed with honey warmth in the cold morning light.
"Didn't think I could sleep," Able muttered then carefully worked around the kinks in his limbs to find his feet.
"Yeah, me neither," Lark groaned and rubbed his temples.
Able would have liked to take over that task for him, but it wouldn't be all that helpful. "There's still water in the pitcher. You didn't drink it all."
"Yeah, I remember," Lark snorted but did not sound annoyed. He fussed his rumpled curls back with a long sweep of his arm, and they fluttered around his shoulders as he got up to take care of himself.
A heavy longing sank through Able's chest and arms, threatening to drag him back to the floor. He turned his gaze back to the window. "...do you think Red's coming?" Did he want reassurance or a reminder that things in the dark don't vanish in the dawn?
Lark crossed to the window and set the pitcher down so he could run his fingers around the panes and the lock. "Not through here. Not quietly, at least." He turned to Able with a wry smile. "And no one downstairs is screaming, so, probably not through there either."
"...is that meant to be reassuring?"
Lark's smile gave out. "I don't know what to tell you, Able. I...don't know who Red is without a directive from Constance. I have no idea what she'll do without her, and I—I hate that I'm hoping she's still hanging on this morning so Red will stay put a while longer." At this he punched the wall—not hard, as if he realized what he was doing and restrained himself.
"It was because of me." Able was still, tired, but resolved. "You shot Driver because you thought you had to. Because I was there. Because of what I had done. It's my fault."
"You don't have to do that to make me feel better," Lark grunted.
That wasn't why Able had to say it. "I have too much influence over you. I brought my emotions into it and it clouded my—no, both of our judgment. If I had just...let it be, and respected at least her experience..."
"If I go back to crying, will you go back to being the rational one? Is that how this works?"
Able took a long breath and let it out again, trying to send all his sorrows with it. That didn't work, so he closed his eyes and mumbled, "Sorry."
"Shit—I didn't mean that," Lark sounded horrified. "I didn't. Please don't stop confiding in me, Able. What's bothering you?"
Able opened his eyes and saw Lark's hand hovering near his shoulder, uncertain about touching. He turned to meet Lark's worried gaze. "She was correct; I am an idealist with little experience and a tender stomach. She had the experience and willingness to make hard choices. I don't think I can replace her for you."
"I don't want her replaced." Lark seemed to be struggling to find the right tone and posture for this conversation, but he was hardly alone in that regard. "And I didn't k...kill her because of you, okay?"
The cold spikes prickled through Able's chest anew. He could forgive Lark for protecting him, he thought. "That...that might be less okay."
"Well not—not entirely, anyway." Lark rubbed his face but couldn't displace his agitation any more than Able could his trepidation. "Yes, I was certain, no matter what they said, they were going to find a way to control you, and therefore me. But if that was the only thing I intended—escape, I mean, wouldn't I have shot her in the leg?"
"Lower chance of fatality...higher chance of missing?"
"I acted in arrogance, not fear of missing!" Lark half-shouted then hung his head. "I was thinking: she'd said to me for as long as I've known her that all this is my responsibility because I'm a Firstprophet. I'd always laughed that off—I didn't ask to be born a prince of Larbantry—but I thought, what if she's right? What if all of this now, is not my fault but my responsibility?"
"As in, you thought you needed to stop Constance." Able rubbed his stinging eyes, trying to stop them before they started. We must, Chessie had said, puzzled. They had all the information they needed to, "Stop her for good."
"Right." Lark folded his arms around himself and glanced around as if the room might not be empty. "Right, I just—what if all the people she got killed, and the ones that are coming to die now...that's kind of on me? And if I let her go on to Stalach, she wasn't going to stop on her own, now was she? So I pulled that trigger. I knew I couldn't take a life otherwise, if we both want to whine about tender stomachs."
"I'd sooner whine that I hadn't the time to think of another option." Able offered a sad, wry smile. All the comfort he had left in him.
But Lark seemed to need more. "I told you: stupid is what I do."
"Not this again." Able dropped his head and slumped against the wall as what little strength he had left drained away. "It really doesn't bode well for us."
"That I'm willing to admit things to you that I don't to others?" Lark was somewhere between incredulous and scared.
Able was scared too. Or maybe only sad. He had nothing left to give but his honesty. And Lark deserved that much. "There's a reason they say not to seek out your opposite. No other person has the ability to complete you, and you're setting yourself up for failure with someone you share little in common."
"You really think we don't have much in common?" Lark was now somewhere between perplexed and upset.
"...are you serious?" Able had no idea what he was.
"Hm." Lark set his hands on his hips and looked thoughtful then started to nod. "I suppose I am a restless prodigy who can't help but try to do everything and stick my nose into things I shouldn't, while you're a ravenous genius who has to learn everything about everything and stick your nose into things you shouldn't. There's a nuance there; I do see it." He raised his eyebrows as if to add, Your move.
Able wiped his eyes again but this time laughed helplessly. And Lark stepped closer, so close Able was acutely aware the wall at his back left him nowhere to go. But Lark slowly raised his hands and gently placed them on Able's shoulders as he gazed softly into his eyes.
"Able, you and I are the sort of people who aren't satisfied with what society designs for us, and won't accept injustice by any other name. The sort of people who can see and be so much more." While he spoke, he slid his arms around Able's shoulders and nuzzled the crook of his neck. "You don't complete me, but you complete the team I want to be a part of."
Able let his own hands slide around Lark's waist, let his cheek rest on Lark's hair, and leaned back against the wall to let Lark's weight press him there. The security and belonging he felt then he would have doubted could exist outside of his own head. The anguish in him was gone as if he'd woke from a bad dream.
"Why'd you take so long to woo me?" he murmured.
Lark snorted, at least in part amused. "After you made me treat you like glass?"
"Fair." Able hugged him tighter and could feel him relaxing.
"Here." Lark moved his hands from Able's shoulders to the wall and pushed back so he could look Able in the eye. "I'll try not to whine about feeling stupid so you don't have to feel like I'm only keeping you around for your smarts. Okay?"
Able's face flushed with embarrassment...and also gratitude. Being seen would take some getting used to, but maybe it wasn't so bad. "...I could also simply learn to recognize when you're only getting things off your chest."
"Mmm." Lark smiled with delight and shook his head with...admiration? "I do love your smarts though. And your eyes."
"My eyes?" Able blinked then had to chuckle. "Have you seen your eyes?"
"Yeah, they're all one color. Boring."
"No," Able corrected. "They are one rich, flawless color and captivating."
"Oh no, we have different tastes!" Lark's acting failed him, for he was clearly taken by this statement.
"Yes, but you already won that debate. Well reasoned."
Lark grew even more delighted and kissed him. Gone was the desperation of that first kiss. Gone as well the need and hunger from yesterday. This kiss was tender and lingering, questioning—asking Able where he was now.
And because Able was finally with Lark, and only wanted to be with Lark, he decided the best answer was to grip his backside and go in tongue first. He was rewarded with the desired effect—Lark popped up on his toes and had to squeak his surprise through his nose.
"Okay!" Lark laughed when he pulled back, though he made no move to resist Able's grasp. "Not shy about morning breath, I see."
"Aguesic, remember?" Able grinned but honored the objection and redirected his attention to nibbling along Lark's jaw. He tasted of sweat and winter wind, smelled of horse and goose down, radiated heat and vitality.
Lark dropped his head back with a low whine, his neck and throat offered to sate Able's parched lips. Relief washed through Able's veins and behind it, his strength returned. He slid his hands up Lark's hips and under his shirt. That achingly admired form was firm and warm beneath his grasp, and he wanted to hold it, he wanted to pull it into him, he wanted it.
Lark's quivering muscles thrummed between Able's fingers and...he swelled against Able's groin. Did this mean he was ready? ...and if so, ready for what, exactly? Able was used to this stage lasting longer and—
Lark lifted his head again to regard him. "Second thoughts?"
"Not a chance." Able seized Lark by the back of the neck and pushed him face-first to take his own place at the wall where he pressed him down with his hips. He tugged Lark's shirt up and off as Lark cooperated, then pulled his hair aside so he could kiss his neck and shoulder. Lark moaned and pushed back from the wall to lean into the touch, and Able readily ran his hands around and over his taut belly and chest.
Even pinned down, Lark was a thing in motion, anchoring Able to the present with his pleasured stirrings and sultry vocalizations. He turned his head to glance at Able over his shoulder, eyes shining under the veil of his lashes, and slowly ran his teeth over his lower lip.
Able was impressed with Lark's command of his own appeal, and, shaking off a fresh swarm of nerves, resolved to impress himself by fulfilling that unspoken request. He took his time, clutching Lark's chest to himself so he could feel every shiver of Lark's anticipation while his dominant hand traversed into his pants. At last, he closed his hand around the hard organ and was reassured to find the urge to fondle it instead of any fresh panic.
"And your hand turned neither to stone nor ash nor melted off," Lark announced brightly.
"Ruining the moment, much?" Though Able could not help but smile.
"And here I thought I was enjoying it—" he gasped in surprise then followed with a low moan and set his forehead against the wall.
"Don't forget I also have one of these." Able gentled his ministrations but did not let up while he leaned forward to whisper in Lark's ear, "and know how it works."
Lark cackled, "Houser, you have no idea what I can do."
Able shivered at the mischievous glint in Lark's eye and also at what his own hand was doing. He'd done this often enough to himself that his own body simmered with sympathetic sensations. The longer he went at it, the deeper the sense of connection grew...as did his recognition that Lark, while enjoying this, was holding back.
It was like that first horse ride, when the pony had taken care to keep him in the saddle. Lark, though he more resembled that wild stallion of his, was doing the same, and he'd let Able off if he asked. Perhaps that's why he found his resolve—he withdrew to shed his own clothing then spun Lark around.
Lark did not set upon him with furor, though he returned Able's salvo of kisses. Instead he took what felt like a fistful of Able's belly and slid it slowly upwards into his sternum. It was such an odd sensation that Able wasn't sure if it was painful or pleasurable at first, but the warm rush of blood into his loins moments after placed it so overwhelmingly into the latter category that it was effectively both. An unbidden whine bubbled up Able's throat and he had to put a hand on the wall to maintain his balance. Lark was using both hands now, on his backside—Able had thought he was aroused before, but clearly he knew little.
"Oh my god, you," Able gasped, feeling something like a rock that had woken up to find itself a puddle.
"Sure, I'll be your god." Lark grinned.
Able laughed helplessly, then groaned trying to catch himself. Calm himself. No—what he needed was to surrender himself. Let this happen. He met Lark's expectant gaze. "Well?"
"Last time, you asked me not to." Lark was quite serious under his verve.
Able wound his fingers through the muss of curls to stroke Lark's head. "This time, we're not leaving until you do."
Lark nodded with a satisfied smile and held Able's gaze as he leaned in to kiss his chest, held his gaze as he went lower and gripped Able's thighs. Able stayed with him all the way down.