Coiled (Book 1 of 2)

Of Sentiment

He planned everything meticulously, and now he has it all ready to go. Two dozen black roses, cut and tied with a large black velvet bow. And the roses, he charmed those himself with a spell that makes it so they'll stay fresh indefinitely.

Why black?

Because black's elegant; it's sophisticated; it's classy.

It's everything he is.

Why roses?

Because they're bold; they're classic; they're sexy.

Like I just said ... everything he is.

Two dozen black roses and a beautiful wand case, one made to order at his own personal request from a small workshop in the Black Forest. There, in the middle of nowhere: an elderly German wizard and his wife, manufacturers of beautifully ornate wand cases. Wand cases that they hand carve from only the most ancient silver firs in the region. And they don't simply make the cases; they imbue them with a powerful spell that makes it so the wand placed in them taps into hidden energy.

In other words, with this he'll be stronger than ever before;

He'll be unstoppable.

He made dinner, too. Well ... let's roll that back a touch. He didn't actually make dinner himself.

That'd be ridiculous;

That's house elf work.

But he had dinner ready. And he bought wine. Not just any wine, mind you, but the very best wine, Superior Red. And an outstanding vintage too; 1968. So you see ... he did it all perfectly.

And why? Why do all this?

Because ...

Well ...

I figure he'll probably be tired.

After all, he's been working all day.

And

Because I wanted to.

What other reason do I need?

And so now he waits.

And waits ...

... And waits.

... He's fallen fast asleep on the divan, alone as usual in his family's sprawling estate. Alone because his parents have gone off to Merlin-only-knows which Ministry function. Fast asleep, roses clutched in his arms when the sudden sound of his bedroom door opening and slamming shut causes him to startle awake.

"Henry! You're here."

You're finally here;

You actually came.

Scrambling to his feet, Barty rubs at his eyes and rushes forward, practically thrusting the bouquet at Henry.

Arm darting out, Henry's palm meets Barty's chest as he pushes him back roughly, eyes narrowing in annoyance, "What's all this?"

"Roses. Flowers. For you, Henry."

Laughing self consciously, Barty pushes them forward determinedly.

Black eyes blinking coldly, Henry raises an eyebrow as he reluctantly takes them, "... Why?"

"I just thought ... I don't know, really. I thought it was cute."

"I don't like cute. And we don't do cute."

"You're right, of course. Cute's not the right word. Cute's a completely stupid word. What I meant to say is that I thought it was ..."

He's about to say romantic, but luckily he stops himself short when he realises that'd go over even more poorly.

Turning the roses over in his hand, Mulciber sighs and shakes his head before tossing them dismissively down onto the divan, "I don't like roses, Barty. I hate roses. They remind me of Rosier."

"Oh ..."

Right;

Of course.

That was so stupid of me ...

I'm so bloody stupid!

"Forget the roses, then."

Still eager for approval, Barty slips past Mulciber and over to the bedside table, plucking up the wand case and spinning back to Henry once more, "This though. I think you'll really like this, Henry."

It's an uncomfortable moment, Barty shyly holding out the gift as Mulciber stares at the box suspiciously. For a few long seconds he continues to stare at the box, then at Barty, then back at the box. Finally, he sighs irritably and reluctantly accepts it. More awkward silence as he opens the empty case then clicks it shut again, "... Wand case?"

"That's right, exactly. And actually ... well ... this one here. Thing about this one, you see -"

"- Spare me. Spare me the details, yes? You bought me a wand case. Great."

Blinking back at him, feeling his heart pinch painfully, Barty manages a small nod, "Right. Sure."

More awkward silence now, Mulciber glaring at Barty and Barty wringing his hands behind his back. Ever determined, Barty tries once more, "Hungry?"

"No."

"A drink then? We could have a drink together, unwind."

Mulciber's lips narrow into a tight line. It's been a long day. A rough day. And now he's fighting the most terrible headache you could ever imagine. In fact, his mind feels as though it's completely on fire. As though someone's taken a dagger to the walls of his inner skull. But he's not about to reveal this to Barty.

But the secret searing pain's taken its toll, and never known for his patience, Mulciber now completely snaps, hands flying up to the sides of his head as he rubs at his temples, "... Why are you getting me gifts? What's with that?!"

"Your birthday."

"My birthday's not for another week and a half."

I know, Henry -

July 29th.

I'd never forget -

"Right. But if we don't see each other ... you know, sometimes we go weeks apart ..."

Crossing his arms, Henry leans forward, the two men staring one another down, "I don't like gifts, Barty. And I don't like sentiment. Above all else, I don't like attachment. Are we understood?"

Well, not from Barty at least; Barty's a plaything. When he said boyfriend, that was only ever said to Evan; an attempt to get under Evan's skin.

As for attachment ...

"Are - we - understood?"

Shouldn't have come here. The pain's now unbearable.

My skull, about to shatter.

That's how it feels, at least.

"Of course - of course we are. You know I feel the same way."

He clearly doesn't. He's clearly fallen for Henry, and hard.

Because Barty's always been a secret romantic, and he's always hoped for love.

Shaking his head, Mulciber scowls, "You and I, we have a very clear understanding, Barty. We formed a deal. An agreement between us, remember?"

Panicking internally now, Barty brings both hands upwards in a pleading gesture, "Yes! Yes, I remember. I remember perfectly."

Just sex. Nothing more, nothing less.

Rough, wild, frantic, hungry sex.

Eyes suddenly widening, Barty's mouth forms a knowing smile, "Ahhh. I see. So you want ..."

But when he reaches his hand forward and attempts to tug teasingly at Mulciber's belt, he's met with the sharp sting of a slap, "Hands off. Just get me a drink already. And for Salazar's Sake, tell me we're on the same page as regards sentiment."

"Of course we are Henry. Of course we are."