"Nasch! Merag!"
Nasch blinks twice at the sight of who's running up the stairs to catch up with them.
What the hell is Vector doing here?
He'd only left two days ago. Not that Nasch wanted him to, but preparation would've been. Nice?
Nasch looks at Merag, Merag looks at him, then they both look at Vector as he trips.
(Again.)
On purpose or accidentally, who knows, because Nasch is too busy trying to keep himself from rushing to help him up right now.
He does, anyway, with an awkward delay that he knows Merag is side-eyeing.
"Thanks, Nasch," Vector says, and it sounds less sweet than usual, letting Nasch know that it in fact was on purpose. "Is Durbe here?"
No, your ticket to being alone with my sister is not here, fuck you.
"He left this morning," Nasch says instead.
Vector scowls, and Nasch smiles, because at this point all pretense is gone and their formerly peaceful, cute, innocent friendship has taken on an additional layer entirely characterized by their... contest.
It's not really a contest.
It's more that all of them are teenagers and neither of them know how to accept a 'no'.
Especially not one that came without a confession preceding it.
"So, Merag," Vector says smiling, performing a half-assed curtsy because who would do that among friends anyway, "would you be my date for the festival of peace?"
Merag looks at Nasch, then back at Vector, causing Vector's scowl to return. "Sorry, I can't. Priestess duties. How come your kingdom is celebrating that day again?"
"I managed to do it! Well, with my mother's help but, you know." Vector's all cheerful, and Nasch is kind of happy for him.
The festival of peace, much like Vector's birthday— which is the same thing, really—, is a practice shunned by Vector's father.
(Really, Vector himself is shunned by his father.)
"I'm glad for you, Vector," Merag smiles.
Vector pouts. "You really can't come?"
"Sorry, no. Nasch could accompany you though?"
Nasch stares at Merag who just gives him a weak smile.
Too kind.
"Y—Yeah, I could do that." Nasch doesn't look at Vector so he doesn't have to see the disappointment.
"I'm surprised though, Vector," Merag twirls her hair as she keeps walking towards the entrance of the royal chambers. "You didn't send a messenger and instead came here in person."
"I just decided I'd be with you guys for a little longer."
As soon as Nasch and Vector are alone, Nasch speaks up. "It's in the laundry."
"Eh?" Vector raises an eyebrow.
"The dress."
"Oh." Vector looks around, looks at Nasch, and Nasch wonders if that expression is him genuinely feeling sorry.
"Yeah."
"The wig isn't?"
"No. I already have it back."
"I... see." Vector fidgets with his hands a little, then. "You don't have to if you don't want to."
"It's not like you'll let me kiss you unless I do," Nasch says drily.
"That's... true."
Nasch opens the closet, gets out the wig and Vector turns around, a ritual as if to not ruin the magic.
"I like your eyes," Vector says, voice trembling slightly.
"I know you don't." Nasch gets a couple more clips for the wig just in case Vector tangles his fingers inside it again.
I know you don't, because my eyes aren't red.
As always, Vector stares at him in awe, and Nasch wonders what kind of pathetic king dresses as his twin sister to charm a prince from another kingdom.
Me, apparently.
"Before we start." Nasch removes his single glove and the ring underneath it.
It feels less bad if he removes what connects him to her.
"Yes?" Vector's cheeks are tinged red.
"Your birthday. You want me to accompany you as myself or—"
"Merag, please."
Hasn't said please for that in a while.
"Sure."
"Thank you, Nasch." Vector pulls him down into an awkward clumsy embrace, much like the ones he always gives him.
It's weird. Nasch usually doesn't get those while wearing this wig, so he appreciates them all the more now.
It doesn't last long, of course, and Vector runs his finger over Nasch's quivering bottom lip, and Nasch can't help but to wonder why it has to be her.
Nasch gets a hold of his wrist and kisses him in a not very Merag at all way.
(Nasch doesn't actually remember how Merag kisses, because the night she did kiss him was characterized by alcohol and alcohol only.)
Vector doesn't mind, he never does.
Instead he closes his eyes and lets Nasch do what he wants, trace over his chest and move his hands under the chains.
They never go much further than that, anyway; if only to not put even more cracks into the illusion.
Except today, Nasch is feeling particularly frustrated, so he reaches down to Vector's pants and watches him make a pathetic attempt to refuse, but Nasch knows how he works, knows how to make him look into his eyes despite how he usually avoids it.
"Me— You—"
"Shut up."
Nasch tugs with his teeth at Vector's ear ever so slightly and feels Vector's shiver, and when Nasch starts palming him through his pants, his eyes snap open; maybe out of lust, maybe to try and refuse.
"Nasch—"
"You're usually so insistent on calling me Merag when we do this," Nasch comments coldly, enjoying Vector's body's reactions more than he lets on.
"You don't have to—"
Nasch goes back to kissing Vector, if only to shut him up.
Vector pants into the kiss, letting Nasch's tongue slip in and explore his mouth like all the other times.
(Nasch can't get enough, and it seems it's the same for Vector.)
Vector manages to pull away a little, making the neediest face Nasch has seen in a while. "Nasch, we really can't—"
"Why not?"
"I don't—"
"If you want me to suck you off, say it."
Through Vector's pants, Nasch can feel a positive reaction to that offer. "So?"
"I—" Vector gulps, looking at anything but Nasch's eyes. "Yes."
Nasch pulls at Vector's pants and then at his underwear, satisfied with how worked up this has gotten Vector.
"Please?"
Nasch smiles and gets to work.
It's not like he has any experience at this, but he'd figured it'd come to this, eventually, so he at least got the knowledge to pull it off in theory.
From Vector's squirming and twitching in response to Nasch running his tongue along his dick, Nasch can tell that it's working.
(It occurs to Nasch that he forgot to lock the door, but that somehow only gets him harder than he already is.)
Nasch takes in half of Vector's length, and he's satisfied to see Vector pushing ever so slightly, tentatively, to get more.
"Nasch, you—" Vector gets cut off by a moan he has to suppress.
"You're a closet pervert, aren't you," Nasch mumbles against his dick, fondling it and sucking ever so slightly.
"I'm not."
"If you say so." Nasch takes in Vector's full length and appreciates Vector's hands on his head, moving him along carefully.
—Not so carefully, anymore, because Vector's a slave to his hormones just as much as Nasch is and—
"Nasch, I'm—"
Nasch feels Vector's dick twitching violently inside his mouth, and then, a taste—
At least it doesn't cause a mess now.
Nasch waits until Vector has calmed down before licking his dick clean.
He looks up to see Vector blushing, and he smirks in return.
"I'm sorry," Vector says, much like he always does, and Nasch doubts he means it.
Nasch kisses Vector nonchalantly, causing Vector to make a face.
"It tastes terrible."
"It's okay," Nasch shrugs. "Get yourself decent, you look like you had sex or something."
"Didn't we—?"
Nasch laughs softly at Vector's air of innocence. "You haven't changed."
"Did you expect me to?" Vector tilts his head.
"No, I'm glad you didn't." Nasch gets up and ruffles Vector's hair. "Never change."
"You either, Nasch."
"I'll be going, then." Nasch stretches himself and gets off the wig.
"Eh?" Vector puts his pants back on.
"Or did you want to take care of this?" Nasch nonchalantly points downwards, watching Vector's eyes follow the direction.
"Oh. You."
"Yeah."
"I'll. I'll pass. I'm sorry."
Nasch looks at Vector for a few seconds, then he moves on.
Vector being genuinely sorry like that actually makes it worse.