Raven, Abducted
Warning: abuse including implied rape of a minor, OOC, AU, tons of angst and fluff
A/N: (>人<;)
Chapter VI: Kneel
It took about ten minutes of searching the poorly lit streets to find an inn. It must've been about five in the morning, or just a little before. Gilbert's stomach rubbed against itself in protest of lack of nourishment, while the rest of his limbs did minimal work to keep him upright. His head didn't throb nearly as much as it did earlier; only when he touched the massive swollen bump on the crown of his head was when he remembered just how much trauma it had just experienced the other night. Was that really only a couple nights ago? It felt like a lifetime ago. This was unreal, following Oz with barely more than the moonlight guiding the two of them to their destination.
After the initial feud, the night was silent save for their footsteps on the brick road. This part of town they'd wandered into was much more wealthy, something Gilbert at least was grateful for. He was having trouble keeping his guilt under control as it was. He'd never forgive himself if Oz was forced to spend the night in a complete dump.
It was cold, really cold, and even under the calming weight of the noble's coat he was losing feeling in his extremities. Oz at least had more layers on than Gilbert did under the coat and seemed to be doing just fine without it. But about five minutes into their search, the spring in his step wavered and then stopped completely; that was when the raven doubled his efforts and took the lead.
"Master Oz," he said, pointing ahead at a very dimly lit sign at the corner of the brick road. 'Reveille Inn,' the sign said. He watched the blonde's face light up a bit and they both quickened their pace.
A bell hung above the door rang as they opened it. Oz stepped in before the raven could even think of doing so. The bell woke up the modestly dressed man behind the counter, and he looked side to side before finally looking up at the two of them. Gilbert stood a bit behind, completely unfamiliar with inns and how they worked.
He cleared his throat a bit, "Welcome to Reveille Inn, how can I assist you? A room for the night?"
"Yes, one room, please," the blonde requested confidently, then rested a sidelong glance on Gilbert before, "And food. Plenty of it."
"I'm sorry, sir, but the kitchen is closed-"
Clink. The noble placed a velvet coin purse in front of the man, who hesitantly peered in. Inside must've been enough money to quickly change his mind.
"Yes, very well then. Your room is up the stairs to the right, the biggest one we offer, sir. Thank you, sir."
Oz didn't look pleased as expected, but instead rather bored. As if this were an everyday occurrence. He hummed and made his way to the steps.
The room they'd acquired was huge, with a sitting area, a bookshelf, a bed as big as three, an already lit fireplace, and its own washroom. The style was rustic, but elegant, with plush red carpet and the bed heavily dressed.
"Ah, this is kind of nice," the blonde said immediately. He rushed in before Gilbert even had a chance to shut the door and leaped onto the bed, burying his face in the covers. "Mmph, I could almost sleep right now."
The raven stared from his place in the doorway; he didn't understand why the noble was always so comfortable. The raven, in contrast, was awkward and self conscious. He longed to have even half the confidence the noble did.
But now that they were alone, safe, warm...
His thoughts turned dark and he leaned up against the door with his bangs covering his eyes.
"Uh, Mister Oz?"
"Mm?" he responded, the sound muffled, but it was apparent he was listening.
"How did you know I left?"
He decided to start with that question rather than why, because he didn't quite trust the other to respond had he asked what he intended to. He watched through his bangs as the noble sat cross-legged facing the fire in the middle of the bed. He was glad he wasn't looking at him; just imagining how the flames would dance in those emeralds made his empty stomach flip.
"Next time you want to sneak out, make sure you turn down the bed first," he joked. One side of his mouth flipped up in a shadow of a smirk.
The next question he had was risky and took him over a whole minute to ask, and when he did, a shiver wracked his frame even though it was far from cold in the room, "So, uh, was it boredom that made you follow me...?"
It was an honest question, and he didn't realize until after he'd asked that it could be considered sarcastic.
"W-wait, I didn't mean..." he tried to explain.
"No," the noble said, scooting forward to sit on the edge of the bed, still staring into the fire. His hand came up to scratch at the back of his head, and Gilbert wondered if he was nervous and it made him nervous too, "I went into your room to apologize for what I said; I was being an idiot. But then you weren't there and I figured... well, I knew you'd left, and I didn't really think about it, I just got dressed and ran out... heh."
The breath was sucked out of his lungs. He heard the words, he processed them, but what the noble was saying made no sense.
"I guess... what I meant to say was, that I think everyone deserves a chance and well, you never got that chance, right? Maybe it was just a selfish good deed of mine, or just me relieving my boredom."
The noble rested his cheek on his fist.
"Now that you know that, do you... I mean, is your decision still the same?"
Not at all, Oz, "I-"
His hands formed fists by his sides and he pushed off the door. Steeling his resolve, he felt liberated, more sure of what he wanted now than any other moment in his life. It was something that had been brewing for years and only now began to surface. It was invigorating, and even when his face flushed and his muscles trembled down to his fingertips, he stalked forward with purpose. Logically, he had nothing to lose, really, if he were to be rejected. He'd be back to being just Gilbert, he'd go back to his old master, he'd simply go back to enduring. But...
Somehow this felt like life and death.
He crossed the space between them and forced his mind to clear. It'd be so easy to talk himself out of this, but he wouldn't. He wouldn't.
He stood over the noble, but somehow still felt like it was he who towered over him. There was a maturity to Oz that juxtaposed his usual obnoxious nature; in moments like these it was unmistakable He was thankful that the blonde didn't speak, instead choosing to let Gilbert take his time gathering his thoughts. Those green eyes watched him curiously, though, and he almost lost his nerve when he finally met them with his own. He knelt down; the action didn't feel stupid as expected, but natural, unlike when he'd been forced to kneel before Master Nightray. He placed an unsteady hand over his equally unsteady heart, never breaking eye contact until the last moment before he spoke and bowed his head low.
"Mister Oz, I..." he swallowed and closed his eyes, "I want to be your servant."
A knock at the door startled him and they both turned to regard it at the same time. Somehow it relieved some of the tension, but the raven worried he wouldn't get his answer. Oz made to stand, but Gilbert's arm quickly shot out and he grabbed his hand before he could leave. The question still stood in the air between them. Please, Oz...
He felt a palm rest on his head and he looked up in surprise. Oz gently ruffled his hair, displacing the curls from his eyes briefly. He had a small smile on his face, and an unmistakable blush that matched his own. Quickly, they both averted their eyes, and when the blonde went to answer the door and usher the innkeeper in with the food, Gilbert leaned his head against the edge of the bed to hide his smile. His scalp still tingled from Oz's touch. It wasn't likely to ever stop.
Some time later after they had both eaten their fill (Gilbert wasn't used to so much food), it was impossible to delay sleep any longer. In fact, the first rays of sunlight were making their appearance over the horizon by the time they'd finally decided to rest. Oz made a show of climbing up on the bed and rubbing his face into one of the pillows contentedly, while the raven made his way to one of the couches facing the fireplace.
"Gilbert."
Ah, he hadn't even asked if sleeping on the couch was okay. The floor would be comfortable enough if that was what the noble wanted.
"Y-yeah?"
"If you really think I could take up this entire country of a bed and leave you on the couch, you are delusional," he said, before pushing up onto all fours and sitting up to remove his outer layers.
There was no way he was offering what it sounded like he was offering. He quickly averted his eyes as the blonde undressed and slipped under the covers. It was comical, how little of the bed he managed to take up.
"I... no... the couch is fine."
Actually, it was more than fine. His back had long since become accustomed to concrete from particularly brutal nights. The couch looked like it'd suck him into an endless sea of plush. And besides, the fire was warm enough, he wouldn't even need to trouble the noble for a blanket.
The blonde murmured into the pillow he was cradling, "I'llmmphmeoverereanmphm."
That made absolutely no sense. He didn't want to seem insubordinate again, but he also would not be sleeping in the same bed as Oz, no matter the size. So he stood still, conflicted as he often was when the noble was involved. After a moment or two of silence, he assumed the blonde had fallen asleep and started toward the couch.
"Gilbert," he said, sounding rather aggravated, and the raven jumped and turned at the sound of his voice. "Don't sleep on the couch."
"But Mister Oz, that's hardly approp-"
"I've made up my mind."
"Y-your mind?"
"Mm," he said, crossing his arms across his chest, looking rather smug, "Until you can call me Oz, you may not be my personal servant."
"What?! But I can't..."
Flabbergasted and scandalized, Gilbert floundered for a response. What kind of servant called their master by their first name?
And... oh god, his cheeks reddened as he processed the words. He'd said personal servant, as in... his primary servant. He was hardly fit for that position! That's...
And wasn't it a little soon?
What the hell did he do to deserve...?
"Oh, and I won't sleep until you get in this bed."
Gilbert distressed inwardly and suppressed the desire to wring his hands. It was his fault the noble hadn't slept all night – hell, it was almost daytime again. Oz had said he was difficult, but who was really the difficult one here?
His head dropped in defeat. It went against all boundaries he'd been taught between a master and a servant to share a bed, but... well, he was tired, deliriously exhausted even, and Oz was peeved and obviously in a similar position, so... It's not like they'd even be within arm reach of each other. He nipped that thought in the bud, ignoring the way it made his blood run hot in an unfamiliar way.
He sat uncertainly on the edge of the bed before climbing under the covers and scooting as close to the edge as possible. Surprisingly, despite his concerns, he fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.
Oz took the steps in twos up to the second floor, but slowed down as he realized what lay on the other side of the door at the end of the hall. Literally lay, since Gilbert was still asleep. He'd looked peaceful, and even though he hadn't complained, it was unlikely his head wasn't still throbbing from the other night. When did he start worrying about the raven? It suddenly felt like second nature, and it was terrifying. He'd spent ages with others and still didn't feel any attachment to them. It was frightening, really.
And then he went ahead and asked Gilbert to be not just his servant, but his personal servant all in one breath...!
"It's okay to have a friend."
Mrs. Kate's words lay at the forefront of his mind. He didn't have friends because he didn't want to put in the effort to keep them. People were too complicated, he preferred to observe from a distance. Perhaps Gilbert caught his interest simply because his complexities didn't make him cold or cunning. It was like he'd traversed the entirety of hell, but somehow retained his innocence.
But me... why me. If he were Gilbert, he wouldn't trust another noble for as long as he lived. Especially one he's only known for a couple days.
You know it's been much longer than that, a voice argued. Sighing, he knew that was right, and that made the situation even more dangerous. To think they'd been dancing around each other for years, intrigued but refusing to interact, spoke volumes of their respective characters. He'd been appraising the possibility of taking him as his personal servant all night. He didn't know why he couldn't offer him a spot as a servant and be done with it; there was something disheartening about the prospect that made him want... well, want Gilbert to... wait on him and only him.
But then he'd asked on his own and jeez, did he need to be so embarrassing about it? The way he'd knelt down as if he were a knight kneeling for his king. He'd been surprised last night, by the fierce drive behind those gold eyes that were usually embarrassed or hidden. The raven took charge by leading him away from the muggers and held him against the wall. It was amusing, really, the way the normally timid boy's demeanor changed completely to one of a protective guardian. That's how he knew.
What he said last night, though, he'd meant. Until Gilbert could speak his name sans title, he would not be his personal servant. At least, not in name.
