056 » pretend I'm not too lazy to look up lyrics

[ciarallegiant]

[When was it that this turned into a game? It was so gradual that Ciara can't really pinpoint the moment the dynamic between him and his subordinate shifted from purely professional to a strange battle of wills. At first, he was just mildly annoyed by the way Cruz obeyed all his orders without question. While obedience is all well and good, he's never been a big fan of people that can't think for themselves. If nothing else, he expects a subordinate to ask questions for clarity every now and again! But not Cruz.

Perhaps it wouldn't have bothered him so much if not for the way he's been relegated to desk work. He knows it's because his brother pitched a fit. That there are people out there who are perfectly willing to force someone as talented as he is to handle a scribe's work simply because they were told to is absolutely infuriating, and he doesn't want anyone like that anywhere near him. So he's been taking it out on the boy somewhat, ordering him to do a myriad of useless tasks that should be assigned to a maid just to see if he'll crack. He almost felt bad for it initially.

Not anymore. Being the fiercely competitive man he is, Ciara can sense the undercurrent of stubbornness in the way Cruz does anything he asks of him. He's a clever child, and not only has he figured out that he's being toyed with, he's rising to the occasion and refusing to back down. That much, at least, he can respect. Unfortunately, knowing that Cruz knows means that Ciara can't back down either, and he's taken to demanding increasingly ridiculous things.

Like now, when he's summoned Cruz to wash his hair and back for him. He twists slightly in the tub to glance at the door when it opens, sighing to himself when he sees the boy with towels in hand, ready to serve as always.]

I don't suppose you brought me something to drink?

[He didn't ask for it... on purpose, of course.]

Comments

[schweigsam]

[it's all a game, and it's fun because, before they started their game, cruz had been so incredibly bored.

after being knighted, he and his friends had all been assigned different intermediate commanders. arthur got to work under vice-captain vane again, mordred with captain lancelot, but tornelio was transferred to the medical division, and cruz was expected to report directly to commander ciara reinheit. which had been fine, at first. he'd thought perhaps it was someone's clever way of addressing the way he tends to fade into the background, and anyway, it seemed somewhat more prestigious to be a direct understudy rather than to be a part of the knightly order, another face in the crowd.

but then arthur and mordred and tornelio started getting missions, and cruz just wouldn't get any. he'd report to the office, then process paperwork: arms replenishment requests, transferral applications, honorable discharges. by now, he hasn't seen combat in months. at first he'd wondered whether it was his own fault, if maybe his endurance and swordsmanship just didn't make up for the leadership skills that arthur and mordred have — but, being observant, cruz has noticed that ciara hasn't been assigned to the field, either.

clearly, commander reinheit is being punished by someone higher up the chain of command. which means cruz was assigned to him because he's incredibly unlucky — or because he's being punished too, perhaps by someone who resents his father.

cruz had been so incredibly bored — and then, one day, commander reinheit ordered him to press his uniform.

oh, he'd seen it for what it was right away, of course. plainly, ciara was testing cruz, trying to see how far the boy's acquiescent demeanor could be pushed. his teachers and tutors had often thought the same thing, asked similar questions. cruz, you seem like you'd do anything i ask. you do know there are some things you should say no to, right?

his answer had always been the same: i know.

cruz could have refused the uniform pressing. he could have said it was beneath him. but he was bored, so he did it, because it was just sort of irritating that commander reinheit even thought he might be ashamed or flustered by such a mundane request. he'd presented ciara with the uniform, ironed and folded, with a clenched jaw and defiant eyes.

and it had all just spiraled from there. suddenly, they had a game to play in the silence of their sleepy office. ciara ordered cruz to do laundry; he did it. ciara ordered cruz to shine his shoes; he did it. ciara summoned cruz in the dead of morning to tend to his armor and his mount; cruz finished the job in record time without even yawning. his commander was trying to break him, and cruz refused to be broken.

he isn't going to lose.

they've gone too far to back down now. cruz knows it isn't exactly appropriate for a young knight to be in his superior officer's home, helping his commander bathe, but ciara is trying to find the one thing that cruz will balk at, and cruz refuses to balk at all. he shifts the stack of towels in his right arm so that he can show ciara the bottle of chilled champagne in his left.]

Dom Périnoel. From Wales.

[cruz knows by now that ciara expects him to just magically read his mind, after all. he draws closer, setting the towels on a little table by the tub; he sets the bottle of wine beside a clean glass, and supposes that ciara expects him to pour it, too. his blank mask has yet to crack, although his inner self shows sometimes in the flare of his blue eyes and the pursing of his lips; it shows now as he casts his ocean blue gaze over ciara's wet hair and glistening back. he has a lot of scars. cruz has yet to earn any.]

...How's the water?

[it sounds like a subservient question, but it isn't. originally, cruz never asked unnecessary questions at all. now, he asks questions like this, with a cold and sarcastic tone to his otherwise flat voice.]

[ciarallegiant]

[There's a mixture of amusement and exasperation in his expression as he watches Cruz in return. Of course, he brought something to drink. Something nice, at that. If that tone with its icy edge bothers him, Ciara doesn't show it. He stretches out in the tub as if he doesn't have a care in the world, idly playing with the surface of the water.]

Warm enough for now.

[He's tempted to add on another frivolous request like asking Cruz to go heat some milk to pour into the tub, but that's a little too soft for his liking. Instead, he'll wait to see how the boy plans to carry out the somewhat vague directions he's been given.]

[schweigsam]

[cruz pours the champagne and presents ciara with the glass, his expression blank, unreadable. his eyes flick over the clouded water, his commander's knee bent in the tub. idly, he wonders if commander reinheit has a lover.]

...Then I'll start on your hair.

[he's barefoot since it seemed polite to remove his shoes before entering ciara's house, and it's easier to get around in the bathroom without slipping on the tile this way. silently, cruz pads behind ciara, dipping his hands into the warm water. he looks over his commander's dark blond hair, straight and limp from the water, then lifts it like a curtain from ciara's neck, pushing all of it over his shoulder. it seems too jarring to just get it wet and start washing without warning. he decides to start at ciara's shoulders instead.

cruz runs his hands over ciara's back, his hands wet; the scarred expanse seems tense and tight. he joins his thumbs at the base of the man's neck, and begins to rub his shoulders.]

I've been thinking... [that he's never touched anyone quite like this.] You shouldn't hunch over your desk when you work.

[ciarallegiant]

[It's a good thing he hadn't yet taken a drink, because if he had, he might have choked on it a little in response. His face doesn't betray him, but the sudden tensing of the muscles is unmistakable since Cruz is currently pushing his thumbs against them. Massage isn't really something he has any experience with — by the time he was old enough to start developing knots, he was too old to be coddled and too wary of being tied down to ever get to this stage. This sort of pampering doesn't really happen in a one-night stand.

"That's not my hair," he almost says, but wouldn't saying that be showing his uneasiness? He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, taking a small sip.]

I shouldn't be at a desk, [comes the slightly too honest response.]

[schweigsam]

True.

[again, cruz's voice is flat, but it sounds just a tiny bit too amused by ciara's response, even if cruz could say the same for himself. he shouldn't be at a desk, either, but he's not sure if he should blame ciara or his own father for his predicament.

slowly, he continues his thorough massage, doing his best to force his way past ciara's obvious discomfort. cruz is stronger than he looks, not as delicate as his face makes him seem, so it's not too hard to roll his commander's shoulders into something approaching relaxation. he's very careful to avoid unnecessary pain, but some might be a little inevitable.

after a pause, the boy asks impertinently:]

So who did you piss off?

[ciarallegiant]

[Ciara's initial tension is easy to dispell, if only because he wills himself to relax as soon as he hears that slight amusement. The same can't be said for everything that's built up while he's been chomping at the bit to do something, but he won't lose any face over something like that.

Really, as nice as it feels, he hopes Cruz won't be able to manage to accomplish anything.]

Pardon?

[Ciara looks over his shoulder at him with a smirk.]

How cheeky. I thought that you would have researched that sort of thing on your own by now. The answer isn't that difficult to find.

[But since he's been so demanding and he's pushed Cruz into trying to anticipate his needs, he's not surprised that the boy hasn't looked into it too deeply.]

[schweigsam]

I've been busy, commander.

[cruz sounds a little bit contrite, at least, but he doesn't offer an apology — thus far, he's never apologized for anything, and despite regularly referring to ciara as commander, he's never offered him the respect of calling him sir. it's one of those little things, the little ways in which cruz remains defiant despite otherwise being wholly subservient.

he finishes the massage eventually, because he wants to finish this up before the water gets cold. cruz cups his hands in the water and wets ciara's hair, careful to avoid getting the water in his eyes. this isn't very efficient, though, and it would be easier if the man lay back in the water.]

...Scoot up a bit so I can soak your hair through.

[lightly, he touches his fingers against ciara's jaw in guidance.]

[ciarallegiant]

[His smile just widens. Good — so he is keeping him busy enough to have an impact. That small satisfaction carries over as he leans his face into Cruz's hand. Having his face touched is intimate, bordering on uncomfortable, but it's too late to try and set boundaries now.

Save for one.]

That sounds like an order. Do you think that's appropriate?

[schweigsam]

[cruz responds without even a moment's hesitation:]

Scoot up a bit so I can soak your hair, please.

[he runs his finger along ciara's jaw, sloping backward, again suggesting that his commander should move up and tilt his head back.]

[ciarallegiant]

[The light drag of his finger elicits an involuntary shudder. Naturally, Ciara pretends it didn't happen and simply positions himself as requested, tilting his head back so he doesn't get water in his eyes. It's a somewhat awkward position, one that both bares his neck and leaves him to either look directly up at Cruz or to close his eyes.

But since it's Ciara, really there's only one option. He'll keep his eyes open.]

Was that so difficult?

[schweigsam]

Mm.

[you make it difficult would be the honest response to that question, but honesty isn't in the rules of the game that they're playing, so cruz swallows his pride and focuses on washing ciara's hair. he tries to do it like they do in barbershops, supporting the back of his commander's head so that he's comfortable, though he discovers very quickly that the shampoo girls make the whole thing look a lot easier than it is. it's a little hard to get that right technique, to work up a rich lather while also managing to give ciara a relaxing scalp massage.

still, cruz figures, any kind of attention will feel pretty good as long as the fingers are confident enough and not too gentle, so he manages it in the end. his eyes don't miss his commander's pale, bared neck, but he doesn't dare look into the man's violet eyes.]

...You have nice hair.

[cruz isn't the kind of person to withhold a compliment — he'll call a spade a spade.]

I like the way it falls over your shoulders. But it looks good when it's tied up, too.

[ciarallegiant]

[Since Ciara tends to just go for a cut and not a shampoo, it feels good to him. He curls his toes in satisfaction, letting out a soft sigh.]

Is that so?

[What a thing to say. It has him shifting his gaze to Cruz's hair. Impulsively, he lifts his hand and tucks some of the boy's hair behind his ears for him.]

Are you growing yours out? If you plan to keep it longer, you should — it's a bit too short to pull back. Doesn't it get in your way when you train?

[schweigsam]

[that... feels strange. ciara's hand feels warm against cruz's face, and the young knight really can't remember anyone handling his hair like this. not his parents, not his tutors. he tries to keep his face straight as he nods, though his bottom lip twitches imperceptibly.]

A little. It doesn't bother me.

[the way ciara's feet flex in the water does bother him, somehow, but he tries not to linger on it. he pours some more shampoo into his hands, running his fingers over his commander's scalp more slowly this time.]

I was growing it out so I could tie it back...

[ciarallegiant]

[There's no visible reaction from Cruz, but Ciara can still feel the tension in the air rise slightly. That's satisfying enough for him to withdraw his hand and finally close his eyes, at least for the moment. Being tended to so diligently probably factors in, too. He's only human.]

A wise decision. Some say keeping the hair closely cropped is better, but if a campaign is long enough, it'll just grow out again. Keeping it long is honestly easier.

[And as an added bonus, he can trim it himself if need be.]

[schweigsam]

[there are any number of things that cruz could say to this — briefly, he considers telling ciara that he's been concerned that enemies might try to grab his hair if it gets too long — but he doesn't like the idea of showing his commander weakness, not when they've been playing this game of theirs, and he refuses to cede ground.

in the end, he settles for a bland hmm, a non-response, and he tips ciara's head back so that he can wash the shampoo and suds out of the man's hair.]

...Do you — [there's a slight pause as he tries to figure out how to phrase this without sounding like some sort of jealous jilted lover] — do this with all your subordinates?

[ciarallegiant]

[It's a good thing he doesn't. For Ciara, leaving that ponytail exposed is a show of confidence; a silent declaration that whatever enemy he may be facing isn't enough of a threat for him to try and tuck away such an obvious handhold. If not for it getting in his face, he'd leave it down as well — impairing his visibility isn't acceptable, though.

The question gets him to open his eyes again, looking directly up at Cruz. What a troublesome thing to say. If the boy is going to ask difficult questions, he'll give him a little trouble right back.]

Oh, no. Only the most docile sort of man would be suited to this.

[schweigsam]

[it's an insult, of course — don't ask questions if you're not prepared to hear the answer — and of r amoment, cruz is so thoroughly annoyed that he briefly considers yanking hard on ciara's hair. he's above that, though. after a brief pause, he allows himself a deceptively innocent smile.]

You are charmingly docile in my hands, sir.

[ciarallegiant]

[What a surprisingly bold thing to say. He must really be getting bored with being cooped up. Perhaps he'll tell him why they've been consigned to desk work if he doesn't lose that cheek.]

Hardly. "Tame", perhaps, but not docile. You, on the other hand... It seems I could give you any order and you would simply accept it. I don't need to tame you.

[This is coming close to verbally acknowledging the game they're playing, though, so he won't keep going. He'll just wait for Cruz's response.]

[schweigsam]

Does that make me tame?

[it's a strange sensation, even to cruz, to be this straightforward, this aggressive. in any other situation — with any other man, perhaps — cruz would fall silent, let bygones be bygones. ciara, on the other hand, regularly pushes him towards verbal sparring.]

What if I only obey you because it amuses me?