Chapter 48: a way to say you're sorry
Diederich was laying in Vincent's bed, his mind was hazy and foggy from the opium that Vincent had given him. He had hardly stirred since Vincent and Tanaka dragged him home from the prior night's events, that left him wounded. He was covered with bruises, and Vincent was sure that he had broken his arm. His back looked like a tiger with the amount of stripes that lay across it from the whip. Tanaka had rubbed salve on his back and wrapped Diederich up tight. There were other bandages covering his wounds. When he opened his eyes, Vincent was sitting in a chair that was put beside the bed. Vincent could feel his on heart beating out of his chest.
"Good morning," Diederich said. He tried to sit up and the second he put pressure on his arms, he howled out in pain and went back to lying on his back. His pupils were dilated, as he was still feeling the effects of the pain drugs going through his system.
"We're having a doctor visit you soon, I did a number on you," Vincent said. That was the best he could do. Call a doctor, because Vincent knew he had fucked something up that he couldn't fix, at least not on his own.
"You're telling me, I feel horrible," Diederich said. He groaned and tried not to move a single inch. His back was all striped with welts and cuts and colorful bruises.
"Want more opium?"
"Hell no, not that devils's substance," Diederich groaned, "but if you could get me a cup of tea," he suggested. Vincent pulled the call bell for Tanaka to come into his bedroom.
"Can you please make us some tea?" Vincent asked.
Soon Tanaka arrived with a pot of vibrant green tea. He poured them both cups of tea into one of their many fine wedgwood sets that the family owned. Diederich casually sipped on his tea. Vincent gulped it down nervously. Diederich didn't seem angry or upset with him, as he should have been. There was no yelling, just the vague groaning as Diederich tried to sit upright and put pressure on his tortured backside.
"Green tea is known for its health benefits, but it's also known to be a great source of male energy!" Vincent told him, with a smirk on his face. Male energy, more like male libido.
"There's always an ulterior motive with you, isn;t there?" Diederich asked. Vincent smiled.
"I'm telling you, this green tea is good for the male stamina. I drink tons of it every day and you know how good I can be," Vincent said. So that his secret, tea and being a ridiculous sex pervert.
"And how bad you can be," Diederich said.
"I'm sorry about that." Vincent told him. He knew he would need to put forth a lot more than just a simple sorry for what he had done.
"It couldn't be helped. There is no need to apologize. You did what you had to do," Diederich said. Vincent gasped in surprise, he was taken a back by his gentle forgiveness.
"So you forgive me?" Vincent asked. He sounded surprised, as though he didn't really feel like he deserved forgiveness in this situation. He didn't expect forgiveness. He expected anger, disappointment, even fear, but Diederich took a severe beating better than anyone else. Anyone else probably would have never spoken to Vincent ever again, and would have been justified in that, but Diederich stuck around. Vincent was hoping it was because he loved him.
"You did nothing wrong, there is nothing to do forgive. I am just glad that we're alive and together after a close call like that," Diederich said. Together. Vincent said, even though he felt like he had left his partner out alone to fend himself from the wolves. Diederich was acting uncharacteristically gracious and soft. It was probably the opium speaking.
The doctor arrived. He was man Vincent hired because he was known from his discretion. He had come to Vincent's townhouse while being paid a very lovely stack of currency. Just to examine one of the Earl's 'most trusted friend' who had 'gotten very unlikely in a fight' the previous night and needed to be tended to with some serious care. As 'the friend' was also a noble of foreign birth and did not not want anyone t know that he had 'lost in a bar fight'. A very peculiar 'bar fight' in which here was a whips and nail marks and somehow his body became whip-shredded and bruised in place not normally hit during bar fights. It was the least convincing cover, but the doctor didn't care, and that was the important factor Vincent looked into the people he hired. That nobody ask any goddamn questions. Vincent left the room while the doctor examined Diederich. When he left, he reentered the room.
"Well, it appears that I have a broken arm, one broken rib, and that according to him, I was in one of the worst bar fights he had ever seen," Diederich said.
"Bar fight? That was your excuse?" Vincent asked.
"Better than beaten up by my sadist lover in a brothel," Diederich said. Vincent let out a sigh.
"At least I paid him good, he won't be talking."
"You say that like there weren't any witnesses."
"I didn't want to tell you until you got better, but the man who outed your undercover status was a member of the yard who was doing his very own solo expose on me while pretending to be a simple photographer for Thomas's event. He wanted to catch us in the act."
"And?"
"I killed him with a letter opener I swiped from Thomas's desk, framed Thomas. Now Thomas and his cohorts are danging on the gallows for human trafficking, conspiracy to commit murder, and sodomy, the last of which the papers are focusing the most heavily on," Vincent explained. Diederich looked at him and Vincent looked back at him with the saddest eyes a sociopath like Vincent could have. Vincent's voice became low and timid, as if he was truly afraid of something for the first time, in a very, very long time. He had spent so much time getting away for things that he almost forgot what it felt like to be afraid of an authority figure. So long he had been on top and now he was scared.
"I feel like I'm selling myself," Vincent whined, "I don't feel safe anymore, I don't," he said. Diederich wrapped the arm that wasn't in a sling around Vincent for a brief moment.
"We can get through this. You destroyed all of the photos and anyone that knew about us is deep in rigor mortis," Diederich assured him. He knew how Vincent worked. There were would be not a single witness left alive.
"But what if they weren't. The queen would have us strung up there with the rest of them," Vincent told him, and in that moment, he realized the truth of his relationship to the crown. It was so easy for him to be dismissed as another casualty of a war against nothing.
"You don't have to worry about that, I'm right here for you, and you're here for me, and neither of us would let the other die," Diederich said.
"I can't protect anyone," Vincent said with a sullen expression.
"It's fine, I will protect you when you can't."
"But what if..."
"There is no such thing as what if. They're dead. We're not."
"Had Tanaka not intervened we would be killed with the rest of them. There is no difference between them and us, at least not in the eyes of the law," Vincent said. As a tragic as it was for him to be held accountable for any action, fun or not, he wasn't entirely above the law.
"That's not all there is to it. Look, loving you is not easy, but if it wasn't worth the risk then I would not be here right now," Diederich told him. Vincent hugged him. His arms were like a steel vice and he was crushing Diederich between them. Affectionately.
"You're hurting me again," Diederich said. Vincent tried to let go of him, but only loosened his grip slightly.
"This isn't comfortable."
"Vincent."
"This was fun for a precious few minutes but, if you want to hold onto me like a poppet you are going to have to do it in a position that is comfortable for both of us." Vincent let go of him and they got into a position, in which, Vincent was holding Diederich his lap and petting him affectionately, like how someone would pet their dog. Vincent stroked his nearly black brunette hair softly Diederich relaxed in his arms.
"Better?" Vincent asked.
"If you tell anyone about this, I'll put you in a grave I swear," Diederich said. His head was still resting against Vincent's chest and he wasn't objecting to any of it this time. This was a ridiculously sappy moment. It would be a real shame if any one in Vincent's family found out about this. Even posthumously, this would embarrass Vincent so much if anyone knew about this moment. It was private, it was almost even a little embarrassing. He hoped that this moment would never make it out of his journals for anyone else to read about it. Vincent even turned a little red in the cheeks as he wrote this particular journal entry.
"You really are like a dog sometimes."
"I'll bite you," Diederich threatened.
"The doctor gave you opium, didn't he?" Vincent asked. There was no way he was
"I'm still recovering," Diederich protested. But his good arm was once again playing ass grab with Vincent's buttcheek and Vincent knew the reason why. It was the opium. There were some things Diederich wouldn't do sober, and copping a feel was one of them. It was actually pretty weird considering how much much he was groping him the second any kind of drug got into this system. Vincent came up with a working theory that Diederich thought of touching him often, but never did it because he's too uptight, and when a little of the devil's poppy syrup went into his veins, it instantly took out that filter between urges and actions. So now he was feel to cop of all the feels.
"One of these days you're going to have to touch me when you're sober," Vincent told him with a smirk on his face.
"I'm gonna tell you a secret, I uh, I liked it when you hit me, ha ha," Diederich said.
"Oh for fucks sake, I'm calling up that doctor and tell him you've been given too much," Vincent said. He patted Diederich lightly on the shoulder.
"I feel so light and fuzzy, good night, you bastard," Diederich said. He was leaning on Vincent and getting a little bit heavy.
"What? You can't be serious right now," Vincent said.
He was now dead weight, and it was hard to move. Diederich weighed considerably more than Vincent, granted that he was built of solid, pale skinned muscle over rock hard bones and over rock hard abdominal muscles. It was hard to imagine such a strong guy with that natural athletes build in such a submissive position, but there he was. And damn it, Vincent was perhaps, not as built as he would have liked to have been, and maybe, could fit into his sister's clothes easily.
"Damn it," Vincent muttered under his breath. He was pinned there. Maybe temporarily acting like a mattress was just another way of saying I'm sorry.
