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Title: Master and Servant
Series: Pandora Hearts
Pairing: Break + Sharon/Implied Break + Gilbert/Oz + Gilbert
Rating: PG
Warnings: Just a kiss, but spoilers like whoa.
Written: 10/3/09
Summary: Break thinks too much and Gil cries too much.
A/N: I actually intended to write the second part and not the first part at all. Break (almost) always gets his way. Mostly character exploration. Nothing amazing.



It was Break's fault this time, bringing home "juice" and alcohol-laced candies, knowing Oz was too smart to fall for the wine, thinking surely he could get the boy easily inebriated through sweets. Unfortunately he was wrong, and left sober again with the annoying brat and all the others passed out. Alice was curled up on the chaise clutching a pillow, her nose wiggling rabbit-like every now and then as she mumbled about meat. She looked so innocent like that, but he was no longer fooled by the appearance of innocence. There was no such thing in this world. Though Raven came very close, despite the blood on his hands, the darkness in his heart, at his core he was still simple and innocent. And whether Break wanted to admit it or not, the feeling to protect him—from himself, from that bastard Vincent, from the power inside him—was uncomfortably strong. However, being who he was, seeing all he had seen, Break was confident that whatever annoying desire he had to protect that useless servant-turned-noble would never get in his way of finding the truth.

...Then again, he probably would have told himself the same about Sharon if he hadn't been put on the spot by that damned sewer rat. Their relationship was that of comrades, servant and master, and maybe she did still think of him as an older brother, but he knew he was simply using her and her family to get what he wanted and nothing more. He knew, and yet he sacrificed that very thing—the thing he wanted, the truth—to save her; and, when it came down to it, he didn't regret a single thing. With her head resting in his lap now, hand curled loosely by her peaceful face and loose hair splayed across his thighs, he could only smile softly to himself as he stroked fine, honey-blonde strands from her face. Flushed from the wine and fast asleep, he would have to carry her to bed soon, but for now he wanted to remain like this, here so close to her, where he could protect her when she herself was unguarded and helpless. He had meant what he'd said about saving her for Mistress Shelly's sake, but he knew now it was also true he had saved her for himself.

Really, this would be such a touching scene, he thought to himself, if not for the pathetic sobbing coming from the other room. In that room were Oz and Raven, the latter still crying after over an hour of tears. It was amusing at first, as always; he had teased him despite the vulnerable state he was in, despite Oz's irritation and requests for him to please stop. It seemed when Raven was drunk even Oz couldn't tease him. Perhaps it was because he was already crying. It was when Raven had collapsed to his knees at the brat's feet that Break and Sharon had retreated to the ante room where Alice slept. Things were getting serious, and Break simply wasn't in the mood for that. He had wanted everyone to loosen up, but instead the exact opposite happened. Such was his luck.

Listening to Raven cry, while a little annoying at first, was still reinforcing that feeling of protection. But he knew as long as Oz was there, he would not be needed.

Perhaps he was a little jealous of Oz. Just a little.





Gilbert no longer knew how long he had been crying at his master's feet like this, but he was sure it was still night because the room was still dark and the fire was still blazing in the hearth beside them, making his already too hot body even hotter. But it didn't even matter, nothing mattered but the apology, over and over and over again the apology, coming out too fast, making Oz question him because he was blubbering too much to speak clearly.

"I'm so sorry, young master—!"

"Giiiil~ you know you don't—"

"—it was my fault! It was my fault!"

"You didn't do anything, Gil—"

"That's why it's my fault!"

And round and round they went, until nothing made sense anymore and Oz stopped arguing, instead petting his hair gently as he ran out of energy and words. He looked up at Oz's face, high above his where he sat in the chair and Gil on the floor, and he could remember a time when Oz had seemed so much bigger and brighter than he would ever be. But now, even though Gil was the one who was bigger, Oz was still far brighter, practically luminous through the veil of tears over his eyes and the flickering firelight. Oz smiled, one hand resting on top Gil's head.

"Are you finished?"

Gil sniffled thickly and rubbed at his nose with his shirt sleeve, pulled down over his hand, the shirt itself partially unbuttoned and hanging off one shoulder. He didn't answer, couldn't answer, because Oz was glowing so brightly he was certain the boy was no longer human, was definitely some sort of heavenly being.

Oz sighed when he received no response, then smiled so softly it was just like looking into the eyes of a saint. He cupped Gil's face in his cool hands, wiping his tears with his thumbs, and leaned down, closing his eyes. Gil had the passing thought that his eyelashes looked like threads of gold before Oz's mouth touched his own, taking him completely by surprise—that's what he was leaning down for?! He froze, as stiff as if Oz were a cat, and the way he was kissing could almost be compared to such. He sucked tenderly on Gil's bottom lip, licking away the salty tang of his tears, and Gil could feel his teeth as he sucked, making him shudder then relax into submission. He closed his own eyes and leaned into it, but his mind was too slow to react to much else, lips barely moving when Oz sucked the tears from his upper lip and then pulled away, licking his own lips with a familiar, mischievous gleam in his eyes. Gil was breathless, but suddenly aware that Oz no longer seemed to glow, as the tears distorting his vision were all gone, and the expression on his master's face was pure Oz, pure acceptance—of Gilbert, of the situation, of his own actions and his own selfish desires. That realization set his heart at ease, and finally, drunk as he was, Gil was able to smile.

He leaned forward and rested his head in his master's lap, closing his eyes. Oz's fingers combed through his hair, soothing and sweet and much more mature than he looked or had ever been. These were the touches of a nurturer, of a caretaker, of a master who said it was his duty to protect his servant. And this was the first, and possibly only time, that Gilbert would accept those words.

Comments

lishypo
Oct. 23rd, 2009 04:29 am (UTC)
Thanks! :D

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