![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
watch_is_meMore chatplay, again with ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
laser_not_sonic. Having played out a scenario with the Master fobwatched as Harry Saxon traveling with my Doctor, we ended up playing out another scenario with both Doctor and Master fobwatched, turn-of-the-century-ish. This isn't my Doctor; this is a canon one, fobwatched, so that was a bit of a switch for me, he's less touchy.
This one's relatively short! Really. And they're just being cute, not much substance, and talking about taking a break from their lives to travel together. Without any fighting! That'd be a first, if they were still Time Lords.
kikainogimon: I blame you for the fact that I now want to know what my Doctor would be like as a human :\
kikainogimon:Also, what his name would be, since John Smith already exists in my AU.
kikainogimon: I have the feeling the Master would name him :\
Culumacilinte: Ooh. The intrigue. Except that the Master is now giving me a bit of a 'bitch, please' look, because what the hell use to him is the Doctor if he's turned into a human and doesn't even know who he properly is?
Culumacilinte: He enjoys fucking with the Doctor if he's gone and turned himself into a human or lost his memory or some such, but he'd hardly go and do so himself.
kikainogimon: Oh, of course. The Master has his priorities in order. He doesn't want to go mucking about with some bloke who just happens to *look* like the Doctor.
kikainogimon: But, still, I'd be curious. May have to write something about that.
Culumacilinte: It is an intriguing thing. A while ago, and friend of mine and I were tossing about ideas for something where they both get chameleon arched, which was equally interesting.
Culumacilinte: It was rather lovely, and then turned slightly cracky when we decided that it was the Rani who had fobwatched them
Culumacilinte: For some experiment or other
kikainogimon: lol
kikainogimon: To see if they were *still* that obsessed with one another as humans 9_9
Culumacilinte: And they totally were. There was this delightfully awkward, very English sort of courtship/friendship/thing. Living in a little house off the Irish Sea. And they celebrated Christmas together, and got drunk on Christmas morning in their pyjamas.
Culumacilinte: And now I totally want to find this again, because it was of the fab
kikainogimon: AW.
kikainogimon: Were they in 1913-ish? Or modern?
Culumacilinte: Possibly? I can't remember.
Culumacilinte: Aww, now I'm rereading this, and I really do want to muck about with writing it
Culumacilinte: Playing around with the dreams John has, like, there's this one bit: He looks through the journal, and he comes onto these sketches of this man- a bearded man with deep, dark eyes, and for some reason, it's profoundly disturbing to Harry. Because it's like... he thinks maybe it's like looking at himself, but that's absurd, surely. He doesn't like the way he feels, looking at those pictures.
kikainogimon: They would always be comfortable/uncomfortable around each other.
kikainogimon: Because of the reminders they would be, constantly, even though they wouldn't understand that.
Culumacilinte: And this: But the dreams keep coming back, and one night, sitting with Harry in the living room or whatever, he looks up and blurts, before he can stop himself, 'Do you think you could hurt me?' And Harry blinks at him, confusion in his face, and John blushes and elaborates, 'Just... do you think you could, ever. Would you.' And Harry stares into the fire for a few moments, his eyes very dark. 'Yeah,' he says after a pause. Meets John's eyes, 'I wouldn't want to; I couldn't ever want to. But... I think I could.' And neither of them are quite sure what to do with that.
kikainogimon: There'd be too much between them, and they wouldn't ever be able to suss out why it was there.
Culumacilinte: It was all very lovely. And then when they got unfobwatched, and they were all terrifically awkward with each other, the Rani just laughed at them, because oh, would you look at that, you two essentially just reverted to being ninety years old.
Culumacilinte: And they would grouse at her
kikainogimon: AW.
kikainogimon: I have no real coherent words for this scenario, just aw. >_>
Culumacilinte: There is much aw. And lovely tension, as well.
Culumacilinte: earlwyn: OOH. and they start to figure out there's an underlying psychic connection between them when they touch
earlwyn: john touches harry and can feel his anger, his aggression, and it surprises him
earlwyn: and they start to play with that, with touching and this strange connection between them, not understanding it, poor human minds, but desperately wanting to
earlwyn:: and john does it because it's comforting, because he's never really been close to his family but this, this feels like that. and harry does it because he's curious, because it helps, because john lets him
earlwyn: and it's all weirdly intimate and dangerously sexual and oooh
Culumacilinte: Like so
kikainogimon: Oh, you let them retain some of the telepathy?
Culumacilinte: Well, it was just us tossing ideas around in chat. And that was one of hers
kikainogimon: I thought that would be the saddest part, that they'd touch and expect...something, something more than physical, and it
wouldn't be there.
Culumacilinte: Ooh, I like that
kikainogimon: *nods* There are all sorts of ways it could go.
kikainogimon: It would be very sad .__. I think.
kikainogimon: To know that, no matter how intimate they were, there was some level of intimacy possible that they could never *quite* reach.
kikainogimon: And it was important, and really vital to what they felt for each other, and...they wouldn't even know what it was.
Culumacilinte: Oh, ow. That's perfect.
Culumacilinte: And I can see John, being the sort of vaguely absentminded and abstracted person he is, being troubled by that, but kind of tossing it by the wayside. Because surely everyone has a little discontent in their lives; it's just the way things are. But Harry getting frustrated by it, wanting to know what it is, why they can't access it or reach it, that discontent shouldn't explain it away.
kikainogimon: Because he's always been the needier, the more determined to push for what *he* wants.
kikainogimon: It would be okay, for John. They're close, as close as too people can be, and of course they want to be closer, that's the human condition. It makes for wonderful discourse, but it's not something that can be helped.
Culumacilinte: And Harry would say more, but he's bad with talking about emotional stuff, so he just kind of twists his lips and hmmphs a little, and John frowns over at him, concerned, and asks if Harry's getting his headaches again. Because he goes out to sit on the rocks by the shore and stare out to sea when the drums are bad. Not wanting to be around John when they are
kikainogimon: And because this is John, a man who never had the drums created from a Doctor who never did, he doesn't understand Harry's need to withdraw like that. Being alone, yes, sometimes that's alright. But you have to be careful, you might draw too far into yourself if you stay alone too long, so he tries to find Harry some friends, in the village nearby. Because he respects that Harry doesn't want him around when he's...upset or ill or whatever it is, but he needs someone to help him.
Culumacilinte: And Harry's got some of the same impulses as the Master as far as that's concerned, but they get interpreted in such a human way, and when John tries to poke him into socialising more with some of the men in the village, he just kind of smiles and shakes his head and says he doesn't need help. Anyway, he's got John; that's quite enough.
kikainogimon: John doesn't think it's enough. Everyone needs a few people in their lives, Harry needs to get involved more. There are some academic sorts about, they've even got up a kind of amateur astronomy society. There's a meteor shower coming up, it's supposed to be quite extraordinary. Harry should go. John will come along, introduce him to some of the fellows.
Culumacilinte: Harry thinks John's overreacting, but he agrees nonetheless, because he's always loved watching the stars. And when they're there, he and John stay up on the hill long after the other men have left and taken their telescopes with them, and he steps up behind John and wraps his arms around his waist, resting his chin on his shoulder. He knows John's twitchy about they way they touch in public, but he doesn't really care, and they're alone, anyway. Murmuring, 'You ever dream about travelling up there? Seeing them properly, not just from a hill somewhere.'
kikainogimon: John considers pulling away, but the other men really have gone and there's no one to see. Harry's always the more aggressive of them, though John enjoys touch, too--he's something of a romantic about it, always careful, gentle and considerate and never *quite* passionate. He leans back into Harry's embrace, looking up at the stars. "That would be extraordinary, wouldn't it? To travel all the vastness of space. An improbable dream." He smiles, because improbable isn't impossible.
Culumacilinte: And Harry smiles a little, as he always does, when John leans back into him, as if every concession from the other man is a small something to be treasured. He turns his head slightly so that his nose brushes John's neck, nuzzling a little. 'The furthest I've ever travelled was India.' He says it almost a little grumpily, even though he remembers it being enjoyable. Or he thinks he does; somehow, he can never quite remember his childhood properly.
kikainogimon: "I did the continent. The student's Grand Tour. It was brilliant. I've always meant to travel again, only I've never quite..." He doesn't know why he hasn't gone. Some part of him says it should be easy. Just go. Another part says he has his teaching, his friends, the expense would be too much, the time away unproductive...
Culumacilinte: 'We could,' Harry says idly against John's neck. 'If we wanted to. I've got the money.' Rich parents, died young, and left their son, Harold Saxon, the school governor for the district. It's hardly as if he has all that much to do, anyway; most of it just gets delegated to lackeys, and he could easily swing things so as to get John some time off.
kikainogimon: (Pfft, Harry *would* be the rich one XD0
Culumacilinte: ('Course he would.)
kikainogimon: (And John's all has two pennies to his name and when he's got three, he uses them to buy books. Which he has too many of, it's like he thinks their home should just *expand* to hold them all. And they're in terrible order, and he's always sitting mugs and things on them or lying them down open, which is terrible for the spine.)
Culumacilinte: (And Harry, when he's got nothing else to do, idly attempts to organise them all)
kikainogimon: (And then John doesn't even notice the attempt and idly deorganizes them.)
kikainogimon: "No. ...I couldn't leave the school." They'd never give him the time off, and he doesn't want the boys' education suffering just because he wants to play explorer...
kikainogimon: (John is the Patron Saint of Book Entropy.)
Culumacilinte: It's not exactly a surprising answer, and Harry exhales a little laugh, pressing a kiss against John's hairline. 'Of course not. Whatever would they do without you?'
kikainogimon: "Fall apart. Write terrible papers on the fall of Rome, in which they get their mythology mixed up with their history and their history entirely out of order." The kiss makes him smile, and he settles back more closely into Harry's embrace, leans his head against Harry's and enjoys the warmth of him, in the cold dark, with a breeze coming up over the hill.
Culumacilinte: 'All those third formers convinced that Nero actually did fiddle as Rome burned?' Harry offers wryly. He feels somehow for a moment like he knows that Nero didn't fiddle at the burning of Rome from more than just books, but he shoves the notion away immediately. Nonsense, of course; John's the one with his head always in the clouds, not Harry. 'Mmm, think about it, though,' he adds, grinning, and presses another kiss against John's neck, a little further down. 'No work, warm weather... we could spend the entire day in bed together, if we wanted.'
kikainogimon: "He was more a flautist, Nero. Well. I always felt that he must be." And he doesn't know why he thinks that, either. Teaching can be frustrating; the texts seem woefully misguided and incomplete, but he can't say *why* and he can't find the sources that would back up his own hunches, about how they *should* read. "Hm..." John turns slightly in Harry's arms, just enough to allow him to return a kiss, to the side of Harry's face, close to his lips. "Not the entire day. We wouldn't want to miss the sights." There's a quirk to his smile--well, maybe they could miss a few sights. "D'you think you'd be alright? It wouldn't aggravate your headaches?"
Culumacilinte: He smirks a little when John turns, loosening his arms to accommodate it, and his eyes slip shut against John's brushing kiss. 'I'm suggesting it, you twit,' he chides lightly, still smiling, 'Of course it wouldn't aggravate them.' The lightness is entirely intentional; Harry doesn't like talking about his headaches, or the drums that cause them. Nothing in particular seems to aggravate them, as such, they just happen, and when they do, there's nothing he can do about it. He gives John a proper kiss this time, and his brow is slightly creased when he pulls back. 'I'm hardly an invalid, John.'
kikainogimon: The kiss is good, and it's something of an indulgence--it's not often he lets Harry kiss him, out like this, in the open, under the stars. "Of course not. I just...I wish we knew what caused them. I wish I could help. You should see a doctor. A specialist. They might be something serious."
Culumacilinte: 'Oh, yes, because doctors always believe they can cure all,' he snaps, before he can really think about what he's saying. When he does think about it, it doesn't make much sense, and Harry feels slightly abashed, his lips press themselves into a line that somehow looks more pouty than displeased. He lets out a huff of breath, turning away from John slightly. Just enough that they're no longer quite embracing as they were. 'John. Please. They're nothing serious, it's just... headaches, that's all.'
kikainogimon: "But if someone can help..." He's had this argument with Harry before, many times, but he's yet to give up. He sees that they're more than 'just' headaches, and he wants Harry to be free of them, he wants that burden lifted from him.
Culumacilinte: Harry sighs. He hates having this discussion. He'd be perfectly content to just leave them be and never mention them at all save when necessity bade it, but John is so well-intentioned, he won't let it go. But he knows what will happen if he goes to a doctor, and tells him that he hears drums in his head, drums that never shut up, that give him horrible headaches. John's an idealist, but Harry knows better. 'If I go see someone,' he says after a moment, 'Will you let me take you on holiday? Somewhere interesting?'
kikainogimon: Oh, an opening. Huh. Well, a holiday and a chance to get Harry some peace. He can't pass up a combination like that. "Oh, yes. I will." He pulls Harry back close to him, and kisses him, taking the initiative, he knows how hard it is for Harry to concede like that, what it costs him, and he tries to show that he understands, how much he appreciates what Harry's giving him, with the kiss. When he pulls back from it, he grins, bright and teasing. "Where's interesting?'
Culumacilinte: It's more to appease John than anything else; Harry doubts that any doctor, no matter how specialised his is, will be able to help him. But a visit can't hurt, irritating though it will be; he'll tell the doctor he suffers from headaches, the doctor will prescribe him some pills, and they'll do absolutely nothing. But if it makes John kiss him like that- in public, no less- and smile like that when he pulls back... Well, Harry might consider giving into him a little more often in these matters. He lets himself be pulled close, licking deep into John's mouth as he kisses him, and grins when the kiss ends. 'Ohh, I don't know. Africa? Africa's supposed to be amazing for stars. Or, hmm, Iceland? The world, my dear John, is your oyster.'
kikainogimon: "What about beyond, my dear Harry?" John quirks a playful eyebrow at Harry, getting into the game. He feels as though he used to be more playful, once, long ago, that, as a child, it had to be when he was a child, he could run for days, joke and laugh, and very little was serious. But he changed, as he grew older. He withdrew from the world, into his dreams, and watched almost more than he took action. "What if I wanted out of the world? Do you think the weather's clement on Sirius this time of year?"
Culumacilinte: 'Not unless you've developed a way to breathe methane,' Harry shoots back, one eyebrow arching teasingly. It's another one of those things that he feels that he knows, when he has no way of knowing it at all, but he decides to run with it. Why not, after all? He loves John when he gets like this, and he does so so very rarely. Leaning back slightly from the taller man, he lets his hands run down his back, daringly low. 'Much better Barcelona. They've got dogs there with no noses.' He ducks his head, grinning.
kikainogimon: "No noses? How do they smell?" Which is leading into a terrible old joke, and John knows it. When he manages this, this casual back-and-forth banter, he feels so at home with Harry, as though they've known one another forever, since they were boys, even though they met relatively recently.
Culumacilinte: The lead-in to the joke is painfully obvious, and Harry arches an eyebrow at it. 'I have no idea,' he says dryly, subtly urging John backwards. There's a stone wall some paces behind them, the sort that one finds absolutely everywhere in this sort of English countryside, and if nothing else, at least it'll give them something to lean against. Not that Harry's ever been one to settle for 'nothing else.'
kikainogimon: John rolls his eyes at Harry's response--just like Harry, to not play the game unless it's clever and dry--he's never been one for the clownish humor of puns and nonsense that John, when he can be surprised into it, finds himself enjoying and indulging in. "You could venture a guess. An educated guess." He knows the wall's behind him, and he lets Harry back them both to it. The weight of it against his back, the unmoving heavy certain weight of stone, the shield of it and the support, lend him boldness, and he kisses Harry again, before Harry has time to respond to his joking rebuke.
Culumacilinte: John is being bold tonight; it's unusual, and Harry appreciates it. He lets out a surprised huff of laughter when John initiates
the kiss, and he leans into him, pressing him lightly against the wall, coaxing his mouth open into something deeper and more thorough. Every time he kisses John, he feels like he could just never stop, and this time is no different, but he pulls back after several long moments, delivering a cheeky lick to John's still-parted lips. 'Feisty tonight,' he comments appreciatively
kikainogimon: "Hm. Maybe it's the moon." It's a harvest moon tonight, the orange orb of it dominating the sky. "Africa would be good. Egypt. The pyramids. The Library of Alexandria." He says that as though it were still there, as though the two of them might stroll in and borrow a scroll or two, and he doesn't catch the oddity of that, not yet.
Culumacilinte: 'The moon?' Harry feigns offense. 'And here I thought it was because you found me attractive.' He doesn't catch the strangeness of John's words either, not really, too absorbed in the present; even though moments like this with John are hardly strange, he always feels that he has to snatch them while he can, as if John's simply going to disappear one day. That's nonsense, of course; John is quite content in his life here, hardly likely to go gallivanting off at a moment's notice, but Harry can't get rid of the niggling feeling at the back of his mind. He writes it off as paranoia.
kikainogimon: "I always care for you, Harry. Moon or no moon." Which, one may note, is not the same thing as finding him attractive. John loves Harry--he has yet to say that, but he does--but that doesn't always translate to physical attraction. Tonight, it does. Because they are talking about traveling, and about Harry getting help for his headaches, and the world poises on the verge of change. The two of them traveling together, and Harry free of the pain that isolates him. That matters. That matters so much.
kikainogimon: Nice scenario again, though.
kikainogimon: Silly Doctor, he *always* tries to help the Master.
Culumacilinte: I want to see Harry in Egypt, though, being weirdly engrossed in the ruins- dead cultures, dead monuments, what have you
kikainogimon: I think the Master burned down the Library XD
Culumacilinte: He certainly burned down Rome. Which would be how he knows Nero wasn't there, fiddling across the river
kikainogimon: Hee. If it was Simm!Master, he probably had a nice stereo system set up across the river 9_9
Culumacilinte: *snerk* He totally would, too. 'Disco Inferno' or something equally tasteless
Culumacilinte: 'Baby, You Can Light My Fire'
kikainogimon: PFFT.
kikainogimon: Yeah.
kikainogimon: *glomps Master*
laser_not_sonic. Having played out a scenario with the Master fobwatched as Harry Saxon traveling with my Doctor, we ended up playing out another scenario with both Doctor and Master fobwatched, turn-of-the-century-ish. This isn't my Doctor; this is a canon one, fobwatched, so that was a bit of a switch for me, he's less touchy.This one's relatively short! Really. And they're just being cute, not much substance, and talking about taking a break from their lives to travel together. Without any fighting! That'd be a first, if they were still Time Lords.
kikainogimon: I blame you for the fact that I now want to know what my Doctor would be like as a human :\
kikainogimon:Also, what his name would be, since John Smith already exists in my AU.
kikainogimon: I have the feeling the Master would name him :\
Culumacilinte: Ooh. The intrigue. Except that the Master is now giving me a bit of a 'bitch, please' look, because what the hell use to him is the Doctor if he's turned into a human and doesn't even know who he properly is?
Culumacilinte: He enjoys fucking with the Doctor if he's gone and turned himself into a human or lost his memory or some such, but he'd hardly go and do so himself.
kikainogimon: Oh, of course. The Master has his priorities in order. He doesn't want to go mucking about with some bloke who just happens to *look* like the Doctor.
kikainogimon: But, still, I'd be curious. May have to write something about that.
Culumacilinte: It is an intriguing thing. A while ago, and friend of mine and I were tossing about ideas for something where they both get chameleon arched, which was equally interesting.
Culumacilinte: It was rather lovely, and then turned slightly cracky when we decided that it was the Rani who had fobwatched them
Culumacilinte: For some experiment or other
kikainogimon: lol
kikainogimon: To see if they were *still* that obsessed with one another as humans 9_9
Culumacilinte: And they totally were. There was this delightfully awkward, very English sort of courtship/friendship/thing. Living in a little house off the Irish Sea. And they celebrated Christmas together, and got drunk on Christmas morning in their pyjamas.
Culumacilinte: And now I totally want to find this again, because it was of the fab
kikainogimon: AW.
kikainogimon: Were they in 1913-ish? Or modern?
Culumacilinte: Possibly? I can't remember.
Culumacilinte: Aww, now I'm rereading this, and I really do want to muck about with writing it
Culumacilinte: Playing around with the dreams John has, like, there's this one bit: He looks through the journal, and he comes onto these sketches of this man- a bearded man with deep, dark eyes, and for some reason, it's profoundly disturbing to Harry. Because it's like... he thinks maybe it's like looking at himself, but that's absurd, surely. He doesn't like the way he feels, looking at those pictures.
kikainogimon: They would always be comfortable/uncomfortable around each other.
kikainogimon: Because of the reminders they would be, constantly, even though they wouldn't understand that.
Culumacilinte: And this: But the dreams keep coming back, and one night, sitting with Harry in the living room or whatever, he looks up and blurts, before he can stop himself, 'Do you think you could hurt me?' And Harry blinks at him, confusion in his face, and John blushes and elaborates, 'Just... do you think you could, ever. Would you.' And Harry stares into the fire for a few moments, his eyes very dark. 'Yeah,' he says after a pause. Meets John's eyes, 'I wouldn't want to; I couldn't ever want to. But... I think I could.' And neither of them are quite sure what to do with that.
kikainogimon: There'd be too much between them, and they wouldn't ever be able to suss out why it was there.
Culumacilinte: It was all very lovely. And then when they got unfobwatched, and they were all terrifically awkward with each other, the Rani just laughed at them, because oh, would you look at that, you two essentially just reverted to being ninety years old.
Culumacilinte: And they would grouse at her
kikainogimon: AW.
kikainogimon: I have no real coherent words for this scenario, just aw. >_>
Culumacilinte: There is much aw. And lovely tension, as well.
Culumacilinte: earlwyn: OOH. and they start to figure out there's an underlying psychic connection between them when they touch
earlwyn: john touches harry and can feel his anger, his aggression, and it surprises him
earlwyn: and they start to play with that, with touching and this strange connection between them, not understanding it, poor human minds, but desperately wanting to
earlwyn:: and john does it because it's comforting, because he's never really been close to his family but this, this feels like that. and harry does it because he's curious, because it helps, because john lets him
earlwyn: and it's all weirdly intimate and dangerously sexual and oooh
Culumacilinte: Like so
kikainogimon: Oh, you let them retain some of the telepathy?
Culumacilinte: Well, it was just us tossing ideas around in chat. And that was one of hers
kikainogimon: I thought that would be the saddest part, that they'd touch and expect...something, something more than physical, and it
wouldn't be there.
Culumacilinte: Ooh, I like that
kikainogimon: *nods* There are all sorts of ways it could go.
kikainogimon: It would be very sad .__. I think.
kikainogimon: To know that, no matter how intimate they were, there was some level of intimacy possible that they could never *quite* reach.
kikainogimon: And it was important, and really vital to what they felt for each other, and...they wouldn't even know what it was.
Culumacilinte: Oh, ow. That's perfect.
Culumacilinte: And I can see John, being the sort of vaguely absentminded and abstracted person he is, being troubled by that, but kind of tossing it by the wayside. Because surely everyone has a little discontent in their lives; it's just the way things are. But Harry getting frustrated by it, wanting to know what it is, why they can't access it or reach it, that discontent shouldn't explain it away.
kikainogimon: Because he's always been the needier, the more determined to push for what *he* wants.
kikainogimon: It would be okay, for John. They're close, as close as too people can be, and of course they want to be closer, that's the human condition. It makes for wonderful discourse, but it's not something that can be helped.
Culumacilinte: And Harry would say more, but he's bad with talking about emotional stuff, so he just kind of twists his lips and hmmphs a little, and John frowns over at him, concerned, and asks if Harry's getting his headaches again. Because he goes out to sit on the rocks by the shore and stare out to sea when the drums are bad. Not wanting to be around John when they are
kikainogimon: And because this is John, a man who never had the drums created from a Doctor who never did, he doesn't understand Harry's need to withdraw like that. Being alone, yes, sometimes that's alright. But you have to be careful, you might draw too far into yourself if you stay alone too long, so he tries to find Harry some friends, in the village nearby. Because he respects that Harry doesn't want him around when he's...upset or ill or whatever it is, but he needs someone to help him.
Culumacilinte: And Harry's got some of the same impulses as the Master as far as that's concerned, but they get interpreted in such a human way, and when John tries to poke him into socialising more with some of the men in the village, he just kind of smiles and shakes his head and says he doesn't need help. Anyway, he's got John; that's quite enough.
kikainogimon: John doesn't think it's enough. Everyone needs a few people in their lives, Harry needs to get involved more. There are some academic sorts about, they've even got up a kind of amateur astronomy society. There's a meteor shower coming up, it's supposed to be quite extraordinary. Harry should go. John will come along, introduce him to some of the fellows.
Culumacilinte: Harry thinks John's overreacting, but he agrees nonetheless, because he's always loved watching the stars. And when they're there, he and John stay up on the hill long after the other men have left and taken their telescopes with them, and he steps up behind John and wraps his arms around his waist, resting his chin on his shoulder. He knows John's twitchy about they way they touch in public, but he doesn't really care, and they're alone, anyway. Murmuring, 'You ever dream about travelling up there? Seeing them properly, not just from a hill somewhere.'
kikainogimon: John considers pulling away, but the other men really have gone and there's no one to see. Harry's always the more aggressive of them, though John enjoys touch, too--he's something of a romantic about it, always careful, gentle and considerate and never *quite* passionate. He leans back into Harry's embrace, looking up at the stars. "That would be extraordinary, wouldn't it? To travel all the vastness of space. An improbable dream." He smiles, because improbable isn't impossible.
Culumacilinte: And Harry smiles a little, as he always does, when John leans back into him, as if every concession from the other man is a small something to be treasured. He turns his head slightly so that his nose brushes John's neck, nuzzling a little. 'The furthest I've ever travelled was India.' He says it almost a little grumpily, even though he remembers it being enjoyable. Or he thinks he does; somehow, he can never quite remember his childhood properly.
kikainogimon: "I did the continent. The student's Grand Tour. It was brilliant. I've always meant to travel again, only I've never quite..." He doesn't know why he hasn't gone. Some part of him says it should be easy. Just go. Another part says he has his teaching, his friends, the expense would be too much, the time away unproductive...
Culumacilinte: 'We could,' Harry says idly against John's neck. 'If we wanted to. I've got the money.' Rich parents, died young, and left their son, Harold Saxon, the school governor for the district. It's hardly as if he has all that much to do, anyway; most of it just gets delegated to lackeys, and he could easily swing things so as to get John some time off.
kikainogimon: (Pfft, Harry *would* be the rich one XD0
Culumacilinte: ('Course he would.)
kikainogimon: (And John's all has two pennies to his name and when he's got three, he uses them to buy books. Which he has too many of, it's like he thinks their home should just *expand* to hold them all. And they're in terrible order, and he's always sitting mugs and things on them or lying them down open, which is terrible for the spine.)
Culumacilinte: (And Harry, when he's got nothing else to do, idly attempts to organise them all)
kikainogimon: (And then John doesn't even notice the attempt and idly deorganizes them.)
kikainogimon: "No. ...I couldn't leave the school." They'd never give him the time off, and he doesn't want the boys' education suffering just because he wants to play explorer...
kikainogimon: (John is the Patron Saint of Book Entropy.)
Culumacilinte: It's not exactly a surprising answer, and Harry exhales a little laugh, pressing a kiss against John's hairline. 'Of course not. Whatever would they do without you?'
kikainogimon: "Fall apart. Write terrible papers on the fall of Rome, in which they get their mythology mixed up with their history and their history entirely out of order." The kiss makes him smile, and he settles back more closely into Harry's embrace, leans his head against Harry's and enjoys the warmth of him, in the cold dark, with a breeze coming up over the hill.
Culumacilinte: 'All those third formers convinced that Nero actually did fiddle as Rome burned?' Harry offers wryly. He feels somehow for a moment like he knows that Nero didn't fiddle at the burning of Rome from more than just books, but he shoves the notion away immediately. Nonsense, of course; John's the one with his head always in the clouds, not Harry. 'Mmm, think about it, though,' he adds, grinning, and presses another kiss against John's neck, a little further down. 'No work, warm weather... we could spend the entire day in bed together, if we wanted.'
kikainogimon: "He was more a flautist, Nero. Well. I always felt that he must be." And he doesn't know why he thinks that, either. Teaching can be frustrating; the texts seem woefully misguided and incomplete, but he can't say *why* and he can't find the sources that would back up his own hunches, about how they *should* read. "Hm..." John turns slightly in Harry's arms, just enough to allow him to return a kiss, to the side of Harry's face, close to his lips. "Not the entire day. We wouldn't want to miss the sights." There's a quirk to his smile--well, maybe they could miss a few sights. "D'you think you'd be alright? It wouldn't aggravate your headaches?"
Culumacilinte: He smirks a little when John turns, loosening his arms to accommodate it, and his eyes slip shut against John's brushing kiss. 'I'm suggesting it, you twit,' he chides lightly, still smiling, 'Of course it wouldn't aggravate them.' The lightness is entirely intentional; Harry doesn't like talking about his headaches, or the drums that cause them. Nothing in particular seems to aggravate them, as such, they just happen, and when they do, there's nothing he can do about it. He gives John a proper kiss this time, and his brow is slightly creased when he pulls back. 'I'm hardly an invalid, John.'
kikainogimon: The kiss is good, and it's something of an indulgence--it's not often he lets Harry kiss him, out like this, in the open, under the stars. "Of course not. I just...I wish we knew what caused them. I wish I could help. You should see a doctor. A specialist. They might be something serious."
Culumacilinte: 'Oh, yes, because doctors always believe they can cure all,' he snaps, before he can really think about what he's saying. When he does think about it, it doesn't make much sense, and Harry feels slightly abashed, his lips press themselves into a line that somehow looks more pouty than displeased. He lets out a huff of breath, turning away from John slightly. Just enough that they're no longer quite embracing as they were. 'John. Please. They're nothing serious, it's just... headaches, that's all.'
kikainogimon: "But if someone can help..." He's had this argument with Harry before, many times, but he's yet to give up. He sees that they're more than 'just' headaches, and he wants Harry to be free of them, he wants that burden lifted from him.
Culumacilinte: Harry sighs. He hates having this discussion. He'd be perfectly content to just leave them be and never mention them at all save when necessity bade it, but John is so well-intentioned, he won't let it go. But he knows what will happen if he goes to a doctor, and tells him that he hears drums in his head, drums that never shut up, that give him horrible headaches. John's an idealist, but Harry knows better. 'If I go see someone,' he says after a moment, 'Will you let me take you on holiday? Somewhere interesting?'
kikainogimon: Oh, an opening. Huh. Well, a holiday and a chance to get Harry some peace. He can't pass up a combination like that. "Oh, yes. I will." He pulls Harry back close to him, and kisses him, taking the initiative, he knows how hard it is for Harry to concede like that, what it costs him, and he tries to show that he understands, how much he appreciates what Harry's giving him, with the kiss. When he pulls back from it, he grins, bright and teasing. "Where's interesting?'
Culumacilinte: It's more to appease John than anything else; Harry doubts that any doctor, no matter how specialised his is, will be able to help him. But a visit can't hurt, irritating though it will be; he'll tell the doctor he suffers from headaches, the doctor will prescribe him some pills, and they'll do absolutely nothing. But if it makes John kiss him like that- in public, no less- and smile like that when he pulls back... Well, Harry might consider giving into him a little more often in these matters. He lets himself be pulled close, licking deep into John's mouth as he kisses him, and grins when the kiss ends. 'Ohh, I don't know. Africa? Africa's supposed to be amazing for stars. Or, hmm, Iceland? The world, my dear John, is your oyster.'
kikainogimon: "What about beyond, my dear Harry?" John quirks a playful eyebrow at Harry, getting into the game. He feels as though he used to be more playful, once, long ago, that, as a child, it had to be when he was a child, he could run for days, joke and laugh, and very little was serious. But he changed, as he grew older. He withdrew from the world, into his dreams, and watched almost more than he took action. "What if I wanted out of the world? Do you think the weather's clement on Sirius this time of year?"
Culumacilinte: 'Not unless you've developed a way to breathe methane,' Harry shoots back, one eyebrow arching teasingly. It's another one of those things that he feels that he knows, when he has no way of knowing it at all, but he decides to run with it. Why not, after all? He loves John when he gets like this, and he does so so very rarely. Leaning back slightly from the taller man, he lets his hands run down his back, daringly low. 'Much better Barcelona. They've got dogs there with no noses.' He ducks his head, grinning.
kikainogimon: "No noses? How do they smell?" Which is leading into a terrible old joke, and John knows it. When he manages this, this casual back-and-forth banter, he feels so at home with Harry, as though they've known one another forever, since they were boys, even though they met relatively recently.
Culumacilinte: The lead-in to the joke is painfully obvious, and Harry arches an eyebrow at it. 'I have no idea,' he says dryly, subtly urging John backwards. There's a stone wall some paces behind them, the sort that one finds absolutely everywhere in this sort of English countryside, and if nothing else, at least it'll give them something to lean against. Not that Harry's ever been one to settle for 'nothing else.'
kikainogimon: John rolls his eyes at Harry's response--just like Harry, to not play the game unless it's clever and dry--he's never been one for the clownish humor of puns and nonsense that John, when he can be surprised into it, finds himself enjoying and indulging in. "You could venture a guess. An educated guess." He knows the wall's behind him, and he lets Harry back them both to it. The weight of it against his back, the unmoving heavy certain weight of stone, the shield of it and the support, lend him boldness, and he kisses Harry again, before Harry has time to respond to his joking rebuke.
Culumacilinte: John is being bold tonight; it's unusual, and Harry appreciates it. He lets out a surprised huff of laughter when John initiates
the kiss, and he leans into him, pressing him lightly against the wall, coaxing his mouth open into something deeper and more thorough. Every time he kisses John, he feels like he could just never stop, and this time is no different, but he pulls back after several long moments, delivering a cheeky lick to John's still-parted lips. 'Feisty tonight,' he comments appreciatively
kikainogimon: "Hm. Maybe it's the moon." It's a harvest moon tonight, the orange orb of it dominating the sky. "Africa would be good. Egypt. The pyramids. The Library of Alexandria." He says that as though it were still there, as though the two of them might stroll in and borrow a scroll or two, and he doesn't catch the oddity of that, not yet.
Culumacilinte: 'The moon?' Harry feigns offense. 'And here I thought it was because you found me attractive.' He doesn't catch the strangeness of John's words either, not really, too absorbed in the present; even though moments like this with John are hardly strange, he always feels that he has to snatch them while he can, as if John's simply going to disappear one day. That's nonsense, of course; John is quite content in his life here, hardly likely to go gallivanting off at a moment's notice, but Harry can't get rid of the niggling feeling at the back of his mind. He writes it off as paranoia.
kikainogimon: "I always care for you, Harry. Moon or no moon." Which, one may note, is not the same thing as finding him attractive. John loves Harry--he has yet to say that, but he does--but that doesn't always translate to physical attraction. Tonight, it does. Because they are talking about traveling, and about Harry getting help for his headaches, and the world poises on the verge of change. The two of them traveling together, and Harry free of the pain that isolates him. That matters. That matters so much.
kikainogimon: Nice scenario again, though.
kikainogimon: Silly Doctor, he *always* tries to help the Master.
Culumacilinte: I want to see Harry in Egypt, though, being weirdly engrossed in the ruins- dead cultures, dead monuments, what have you
kikainogimon: I think the Master burned down the Library XD
Culumacilinte: He certainly burned down Rome. Which would be how he knows Nero wasn't there, fiddling across the river
kikainogimon: Hee. If it was Simm!Master, he probably had a nice stereo system set up across the river 9_9
Culumacilinte: *snerk* He totally would, too. 'Disco Inferno' or something equally tasteless
Culumacilinte: 'Baby, You Can Light My Fire'
kikainogimon: PFFT.
kikainogimon: Yeah.
kikainogimon: *glomps Master*
