[ They’re fighting again, and he’s sure the new neighbor can hear it.
It’s unclear to him what started it this time, but he doesn’t feel like taking it tonight, toe to toe with his impossibly gorgeous and incredibly wasted boyfriend, spelling out just how stupid he thinks he is for complaining about the toilet paper or the designs on the dishes or whatever it was that had set him off. Nik responds by hitting him hard across the face, the pressure just enough that he feels a warm wash of blood run over his lip, gushing from his nose.
The pain doesn’t bother him as much as the blow to his pride, and he spits out blood onto the expensive leather couch, which sets Nik off again, and it’s another thirty minutes and questionable lovemaking session later before the house goes silent, the back door banging open as Casimir strides outside, buttoning up his ripped jeans but not bothering to do the same with his shirt that hangs open. When he realizes it’s Nik’s, he uses the sleeve to wipe the blood from his face.
He plans on stretching out on one of his plush garden chairs, a canopy of shimmering lights woven with flowering vines above his head, but he notices movement across the wooden fence, making him pause briefly before approaching the edge, barefoot in the grass, jeans low on his narrow hips. ]
It’s late to still be working, isn’t it? [ And without waiting for an invite, he hoists the fence, gracefully landing on the other side. This backyard is painfully empty compared to the perfectly manicured and landscaped paradise next door, and Casimir rests his hands on his hips, glancing around, and perhaps he should give the new resident a little more time before he starts making disdainful comments about the decor. ] Are you married?
[ It's been a long few days, and by the time he steps inside the door of his new place, he can feel the exhaustion pulling at him from every angle. The flight in had been tiresome, traveling undercover despite having dispatched his target earlier than scheduled, and the drive from the airport had felt tedious, sitting out in his car long enough to see the shadows of his neighbors through their windows. He doesn't need to hear the conversation to imagine what it might be about considering their body language, and Larus watches until he grows bored of it, trying to determine what the other guy is like—the one he hasn't met yet. Nothing really comes of it, and he spends the next hour sorting through the boxes he hasn't unpacked and equipment he should be storing -- guns and knives he should be cleaning -- before navigating to the backyard. It's getting dark, leaving little time to do anything worthwhile outside, but he hefts a bag of soil across the deck anyway and down to the flowerbeds that have seen better days.
His cover fits well with some of the things he's picked up over the course of his career, so he doesn't mind crawling around in the dirt and tidying the area for the flowers he plans to plant here. Even if he doesn't stay long in this place, at least there will be some touch of color, and he's down on his knees when he hears the creak of the fence, the sound of feet moving on the grass. Instinct tells him to reach for the spade shoved lightly in the ground, but the voice that follows put him marginally at ease, glancing to the side to get a glimpse of who's speaking. It's enough to have him easing back to get a better view. ]
I prefer later hours. Besides, that's not something you should be asking when you're trespassing. [ But the light tone of his voice and the partial smile he offers says he doesn't mean it, and slowly, he stands, dusting off his jeans so he doesn't look as rumpled as he feels. ] I'm not anything, but I met your boyfriend a few days ago. [ And that's when he notices the careful smear of blood that's been wiped away, the slight discoloration to his face, and to cover it, Larus rubs at the imaginary dirt on his own cheek before looking at the house next door and back to Casimir. ] Interesting guy. [ He offers a clean hand. ] Larus.
[ That he’s already been in contact with his boyfriend before meeting him pulls a small frown from his lips, but he takes the offered hand in a firm grip. ] When did you meet Nik? [ Really, he wants to know if he’d met Nik while he was sober or not, but that seems a touch disrespectful toward his own relationship, so he smooths his mouth into an easy smile, just a little sore from the earlier blow. ] I’m Casimir. It seems like it will be a pleasure.
What brings you here? Work? [ He stretches his arms above his head, rolling out his shoulders as he turns, wandering several steps, the grass soft beneath the soles of his feet. This is a nice neighborhood, a little gem for those who can afford it -- there’s no shortage of bored housewives, eager poolboys, or expensive cocaine habits around here. Casimir likes the luxury that it offers and that the residents are all of a certain caliber. Larus might look normal, but he knows there has to be something about him, something that sets him apart enough that he would look at a place like this and decide that he’d fit in.
But then, Larus doesn’t look normal. He has dreamy eyes and a cascade of thick hair that he wants to touch to see if it’s as soft as it looks. The house seems too dark and empty for there to be a secret lover inside, and Casimir hadn’t seen anyone else when he’d first noticed Larus several days ago, watching from his bedroom window as he’d started to move in. He turns, his soul having wilted enough from standing in this sad excuse of a backyard -- although he sees the bags of soil and the beginnings of a promising flower bed -- and saunters past Larus while grazing his fingers down his arm. ]
Come on. I want you to see our backyard. [ And then he’s hoisting himself onto the fence again, balancing briefly on the wood before springing into an aerial flip, giving Larus a bow when he lands. His yard is very plainly the most overachieving one on the street, exotic flowers and small trees lining a cobbled path, the gentle babbling of the stone pegasus fountain filling the night. Lights twinkle above them as they emerge to what he calls his outdoor bedroom, fresh flowers scenting the air and complete with a large cocoon bed filled with pillows and fur blankets. Part of the immense yard is geometrically sectioned off with small bushes, a large gymnastics mat, bars, and a beam laid out in the grass.
He smiles, beaming at Larus. ] Am I impressing you?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
( neighbors au )
It’s unclear to him what started it this time, but he doesn’t feel like taking it tonight, toe to toe with his impossibly gorgeous and incredibly wasted boyfriend, spelling out just how stupid he thinks he is for complaining about the toilet paper or the designs on the dishes or whatever it was that had set him off. Nik responds by hitting him hard across the face, the pressure just enough that he feels a warm wash of blood run over his lip, gushing from his nose.
The pain doesn’t bother him as much as the blow to his pride, and he spits out blood onto the expensive leather couch, which sets Nik off again, and it’s another thirty minutes and questionable lovemaking session later before the house goes silent, the back door banging open as Casimir strides outside, buttoning up his ripped jeans but not bothering to do the same with his shirt that hangs open. When he realizes it’s Nik’s, he uses the sleeve to wipe the blood from his face.
He plans on stretching out on one of his plush garden chairs, a canopy of shimmering lights woven with flowering vines above his head, but he notices movement across the wooden fence, making him pause briefly before approaching the edge, barefoot in the grass, jeans low on his narrow hips. ]
It’s late to still be working, isn’t it? [ And without waiting for an invite, he hoists the fence, gracefully landing on the other side. This backyard is painfully empty compared to the perfectly manicured and landscaped paradise next door, and Casimir rests his hands on his hips, glancing around, and perhaps he should give the new resident a little more time before he starts making disdainful comments about the decor. ] Are you married?
no subject
His cover fits well with some of the things he's picked up over the course of his career, so he doesn't mind crawling around in the dirt and tidying the area for the flowers he plans to plant here. Even if he doesn't stay long in this place, at least there will be some touch of color, and he's down on his knees when he hears the creak of the fence, the sound of feet moving on the grass. Instinct tells him to reach for the spade shoved lightly in the ground, but the voice that follows put him marginally at ease, glancing to the side to get a glimpse of who's speaking. It's enough to have him easing back to get a better view. ]
I prefer later hours. Besides, that's not something you should be asking when you're trespassing. [ But the light tone of his voice and the partial smile he offers says he doesn't mean it, and slowly, he stands, dusting off his jeans so he doesn't look as rumpled as he feels. ] I'm not anything, but I met your boyfriend a few days ago. [ And that's when he notices the careful smear of blood that's been wiped away, the slight discoloration to his face, and to cover it, Larus rubs at the imaginary dirt on his own cheek before looking at the house next door and back to Casimir. ] Interesting guy. [ He offers a clean hand. ] Larus.
no subject
What brings you here? Work? [ He stretches his arms above his head, rolling out his shoulders as he turns, wandering several steps, the grass soft beneath the soles of his feet. This is a nice neighborhood, a little gem for those who can afford it -- there’s no shortage of bored housewives, eager poolboys, or expensive cocaine habits around here. Casimir likes the luxury that it offers and that the residents are all of a certain caliber. Larus might look normal, but he knows there has to be something about him, something that sets him apart enough that he would look at a place like this and decide that he’d fit in.
But then, Larus doesn’t look normal. He has dreamy eyes and a cascade of thick hair that he wants to touch to see if it’s as soft as it looks. The house seems too dark and empty for there to be a secret lover inside, and Casimir hadn’t seen anyone else when he’d first noticed Larus several days ago, watching from his bedroom window as he’d started to move in. He turns, his soul having wilted enough from standing in this sad excuse of a backyard -- although he sees the bags of soil and the beginnings of a promising flower bed -- and saunters past Larus while grazing his fingers down his arm. ]
Come on. I want you to see our backyard. [ And then he’s hoisting himself onto the fence again, balancing briefly on the wood before springing into an aerial flip, giving Larus a bow when he lands. His yard is very plainly the most overachieving one on the street, exotic flowers and small trees lining a cobbled path, the gentle babbling of the stone pegasus fountain filling the night. Lights twinkle above them as they emerge to what he calls his outdoor bedroom, fresh flowers scenting the air and complete with a large cocoon bed filled with pillows and fur blankets. Part of the immense yard is geometrically sectioned off with small bushes, a large gymnastics mat, bars, and a beam laid out in the grass.
He smiles, beaming at Larus. ] Am I impressing you?