In contrast, Jesus's gift feels very homemade and not at all chic, because it is. It's a pair of handmade gloves with a tiny 'J' sewn onto one of the palms, a little barely visible mark of his artistry. Vrenille's are a soft dove grey, a shade with a little blue flecked in, a shade that makes him think they would go well with his eyes.
He has the gloves wrapped up in silver paper when he shows up at Vrenille's, eager to see what else his friend has in mind.
Something homemade suits Vrenille better than fine; it's really ideal. He's been given fancy gifts and he likes them well enough, but something crafted feels closer to his roots--closer to his whole world where no one buys things off the rack because there is no rack to buy off of. It's one of the things about Duplicity he assimilated to fast (underwear subscriptions and all). This, by contrast, anchors him with a sense of home--something he's been badly needing lately.
Sitting on the couch in the family room with Jesus, he opens the silver paper and feels the softness of the material between his hands before pulling the gloves on, one thumb running across the little J in the other, feeling its texture against his palm beneath.
"So I guess we can trust that our dear Commissar is warmly clothed now too," he smiles, charmed. Jesus set off to learn to knit for Nibbles, and he's clearly learned to knit well.
"Perfect is probably an overstatement," he admits, because he can see all the little mistakes that went into it. And these were his fourth attempt, even. "But they look better than what Commissar Nibbles has to wear."
But he sees what it means to Vrenille, and it warms him. Even if Vrenille never wears them, he clearly takes the gift for how it was meant: all the hours Jesus put into this pair of gloves, thinking about Vrenille the whole time he did.
There are imperfections, sure, the occasional dropped stitch or place where the count has been belatedly corrected. That's not what matters to him though, and he already knows there's no doubt he will wear these--that's something Jesus will see often over the coming weeks, the gloves coming out of his coat pocket when he gets ready to head home after a night at Marked, tucked carefully away when he arrives.
"Oh I wouldn't worry 'bout that--the dredge aren't known for their fashion sense. Probably on account of they don't see so good. Moles, y'know."
He grins. But what's important here is not just that Jesus has kept the cat warm. It's the effort and care he's given to doing it, and the little network of intimacy that grows up around that, the thoughtfulness and broader application of a newly learned skill, the connection to K he knows underpins Nibbles having ended up with Jesus in the first place.
"I'm picturing you over at Rosita's watching TV with knitting needles in your lap, tell me I'm wrong." That's part of this too, he thinks, and somehow it feels very apt that it's Jesus who's learned to knit; it seems downright metaphorical.
"She's the only one who doesn't laugh when I swear," he agrees with a wink. "There were a lot of frustrated knots involved in making those. And that's not me dressing it up so you're more impressed with what I finished. ...Well maybe a little."
He nudges Vrenille's foot with his. "You said the rest of my present was here?"
"I'm very impressed. I'd probably laugh though," he admits, he's charmed by this image of Jesus struggling with his knitting, and more than that, by the simple domestic togetherness of it.
"You two should come 'round here sometime. We'll do a movie night. You swearing over your knitting optional."
For now, he pulls the gloves back off, setting them on his thigh while he shifts to reach into his pocket for the rest of Jesus's gift. When he opens his hand, it's to display a dark metal keyring in a shape that Jesus will, by now, probably recognise, if not from the little icon that Vrenille drew on his cast, then from his shield, which also hangs on the wall on display when it's not in use.
On it, is a single key.
"This one's not homemade. But I did have it done custom by a guy in the city."
"I'll bring her," he promises, because he wants that: the three of them just relaxing together, nothing to fight and nowhere to go, just a night to be entertained together.
He takes it with a little curious frown. The last time Vrenille gave him a key it had lead to a very specific box, but this isn't small, and he looks up at Vrenille. "What does it go to?"
They'll potentially have to put some leg work in to find movies that aren't too pornographic in this place. Or else watch, as Vrenille's been given to understand it, the porny versions of classic Earth cinema that Duplicity seems to specialise in. Logistics for another time, but a nice prospect to look forward to.
He watches Jesus's expression as he examines the key, answering him very simply, plainly: "The front door."
He'd expected another game, and he'd been looking forward to a new challenge. That's not what Vrenille answers with. It takes a few seconds for that to sink in, for him to try to flick through what this means before his mind assures him it is simply that he is welcome.
He's not prepared for the way that shifts something in his chest and he looks down at the key again, a habit he has for hiding certain expressions, except his hair is pulled back and it doesn't work.
He's welcome.
"One way to keep me from sneaking in your window," he says, but there's emotion making the joke thicker than he means. He swallows and looks up at Vrenille, and the emotion is still there when he says, "Thank you."
"Yeah, well I know you could always get in anyway." He's known it practically since the time Jesus told him that no one in the old world would have ever let him near a manor. He could get in anyway; he could stash the silverware in his coat and leave if he wanted. It's never been about that for Vrenille and it isn't now.
The point isn't access, it's belonging. And yes, he'd guessed that the gift would be significant to Jesus, given the things he knows about his past, but he's not quite expecting the level of effect it has.
He leans his head in to bring them together, nudging and resting, temple to temple. "You're welcome. You alright?"
"I'm fine." He nods, but he stays close to Vrenille, to the scent of him and the warmth of him and the fact he can hide his expression here and compose himself.
He swallows. "It's just- you didn't have to do this."
To welcome him in. He's not Vrenille's Submissive. There's nothing signed between them to make him question Vrenille's motives.
He lets their closeness be a little shield, a screen while Jesus composes himself again, and he doesn't say another word to draw attention to the show of emotion.
"Of course I didn't have to. It just...felt right." That's it, that's his entire reason.
The idea had occurred to him anyway, outside of any holiday gift-giving. Wintersday just provided the occasion.
"It's not even 'bout this place. I'd do it back home too. I mean...I'd clear it with Sesyria first, 'cause technically it's his house," details, details, "but I'd still do it."
The kiss is a little different than most they've shared, and Vrenille returns it, soft and tender, lingering not to deepen but just to let their faces brush, let himself feel the hair of Jesus's beard against his cheek and the warmth of his palm.
"Like I said, the gloves are perfect--you making 'em for me, thinking of me, not knowing I was gonna do this. Which I've been thinking 'bout for a while, by the by. The keyring, sure, nice Wintersday gift 'n all, but the key? I was gonna give you that anyway. That's not 'bout exchanging gifts. It's just 'cause it feels right."
It feels a little like when he first invited Hakkyuu to his hideout as a kid; like an echo of that anyway. He's known Jesus for longer now than he'd known Hakkyuu then, on that first day, of course, and the key to his home is a different thing, sure. But there's that same sense in his gut that's guiding him, a certainty about the choice.
"City doesn't give us many options, right? Guest or contract partner's pretty much it. So we make our own way. Key means any day or any night, whether I'm here or not, whether we've spoken or planned or haven't, any time, any reason, for so long as either of us is in this place."
That's the sort of welcome this is. It's not the same as what his guild gave him, but it's about as close as he can come here.
The concept of rules for this house seems to have a certain novelty for Vrenille, and he has to take a moment to think about it. "Well back home we had a rule: anything that started off 'Hey everybody, watch this!' you weren't allowed to do. But I think Sesyria mostly set that one 'cause of Hakkyuu 'n me..." Mainly Hakkyuu. But either way, it definitely doesn't apply here.
And then he hits on something.
"Oh! I know one important one: If the Crisco leaves the kitchen, it cannot come back into the kitchen."
He manages to deadpan that for a good three or four seconds, before he breaks into a laugh. "Nah, I'm just kidding. Everyone in this house has better lube options than Crisco anyway."
It makes him laugh, which makes him relax just that little bit to where he can understand that what he was really asking Vrenille was 'how do I keep from getting kicked back out of this'.
And for this moment, looking at his friend, holding a key in his hand, he can honestly believe that Vrenille wants him to stay.
"Who taught you about Crisco?" He asks, still laughing.
Vrenille is still laughing too, and he puffs his cheeks out as he tries to remember who exactly. It was some time ago now.
"Pretty sure it was this guy Eggsy. Weird name but he swore it was what everyone including his mom called him. He was an English guy, Londoner from...I wanna say 2015 or so?"
Vrenille's tone and something in his eyes probably says on its own that this is someone no longer in the city--a fond memory of a friend made here and now gone. "He used to say the damnedest things, seemed to always be explaining half it 'em to everyone. Least it wasn't just me," he shakes his head and looks at Jesus fondly, letting the little reminiscence bridge past and present. "You'd 've liked him."
"It's got character." Eggsy's name, yes, but also Jesus's, which Vrenille recognises registers in quite a particular way for anyone from Earth and has learned to enjoy watching the reactions to.
"Got more options here than back home by a whole shelf-full." Though also, this makes him think of something--tangential to lube, yes, but not wholly unrelated.
Still smiling as he looks at Jesus, his expression shifts just a degree more earnest. "Can I ask you something?"
In another moment, Vrenille would probably quip some question, not about Crisco necessarily, maybe about Boy Butter. It's not the direction he's heading right now though, which is more on the side of sobriety, but also gentle and careful--it's a question with a lot of care behind it:
Whatever question he'd expected, it clearly wasn't that one. He shakes his head slightly, confused and then realizing this should have occurred to him before now. It just hadn't.
"I only wear it to play with you," he says. "And I don't really talk about what I do with other men with him much."
He looks away, then back at Vrenille. "Why do you ask? Should I have?"
"I'm...not sure, honestly. It's just something I've been thinking 'bout. You 'n I at Marked and such, how sooner or later I think he's likely to see you in it."
He's a little hesitant here, but not because he thinks Jesus has done anything wrong, and not because he wants to see anything at all between them change. That's something that worries him, bringing this up. What they have is special to him, special enough to protect it; it's just a question of what protecting it looks like.
"I don't wanna overstep. What you 'n him talk 'bout, how you are together--it's between the two of you, it's not my place. But I see how you look at each other. If he saw 'n got the wrong idea... I don't want him get hurt. I don't want you to get hurt either. I dunno. What do you think?"
It's an honest question. He doesn't know the right answer, he doesn't know if there is one, really.
"I don't want to hurt him," Jesus says, for the first time thinking that maybe this could send a signal he isn't intending to send.
"But this matters to me," he rests a hand on Vrenille's. "I like playing with you. I think he'll understand. I'll explain it to him. But I don't want this to change. It's important to me, too."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2022-12-27 06:32 am (UTC)He has the gloves wrapped up in silver paper when he shows up at Vrenille's, eager to see what else his friend has in mind.
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Date: 2022-12-28 09:38 am (UTC)Sitting on the couch in the family room with Jesus, he opens the silver paper and feels the softness of the material between his hands before pulling the gloves on, one thumb running across the little J in the other, feeling its texture against his palm beneath.
"So I guess we can trust that our dear Commissar is warmly clothed now too," he smiles, charmed. Jesus set off to learn to knit for Nibbles, and he's clearly learned to knit well.
"They're perfect, thank you."
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Date: 2022-12-29 01:37 am (UTC)But he sees what it means to Vrenille, and it warms him. Even if Vrenille never wears them, he clearly takes the gift for how it was meant: all the hours Jesus put into this pair of gloves, thinking about Vrenille the whole time he did.
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Date: 2022-12-29 03:01 pm (UTC)"Oh I wouldn't worry 'bout that--the dredge aren't known for their fashion sense. Probably on account of they don't see so good. Moles, y'know."
He grins. But what's important here is not just that Jesus has kept the cat warm. It's the effort and care he's given to doing it, and the little network of intimacy that grows up around that, the thoughtfulness and broader application of a newly learned skill, the connection to K he knows underpins Nibbles having ended up with Jesus in the first place.
"I'm picturing you over at Rosita's watching TV with knitting needles in your lap, tell me I'm wrong." That's part of this too, he thinks, and somehow it feels very apt that it's Jesus who's learned to knit; it seems downright metaphorical.
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Date: 2022-12-29 11:26 pm (UTC)He nudges Vrenille's foot with his. "You said the rest of my present was here?"
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Date: 2022-12-30 08:40 am (UTC)"You two should come 'round here sometime. We'll do a movie night. You swearing over your knitting optional."
For now, he pulls the gloves back off, setting them on his thigh while he shifts to reach into his pocket for the rest of Jesus's gift. When he opens his hand, it's to display a dark metal keyring in a shape that Jesus will, by now, probably recognise, if not from the little icon that Vrenille drew on his cast, then from his shield, which also hangs on the wall on display when it's not in use.
On it, is a single key.
"This one's not homemade. But I did have it done custom by a guy in the city."
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Date: 2022-12-31 05:21 am (UTC)He takes it with a little curious frown. The last time Vrenille gave him a key it had lead to a very specific box, but this isn't small, and he looks up at Vrenille. "What does it go to?"
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Date: 2022-12-31 07:41 am (UTC)He watches Jesus's expression as he examines the key, answering him very simply, plainly: "The front door."
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Date: 2022-12-31 08:45 pm (UTC)He's not prepared for the way that shifts something in his chest and he looks down at the key again, a habit he has for hiding certain expressions, except his hair is pulled back and it doesn't work.
He's welcome.
"One way to keep me from sneaking in your window," he says, but there's emotion making the joke thicker than he means. He swallows and looks up at Vrenille, and the emotion is still there when he says, "Thank you."
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Date: 2023-01-01 10:23 pm (UTC)The point isn't access, it's belonging. And yes, he'd guessed that the gift would be significant to Jesus, given the things he knows about his past, but he's not quite expecting the level of effect it has.
He leans his head in to bring them together, nudging and resting, temple to temple. "You're welcome. You alright?"
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Date: 2023-01-02 10:31 pm (UTC)He swallows. "It's just- you didn't have to do this."
To welcome him in. He's not Vrenille's Submissive. There's nothing signed between them to make him question Vrenille's motives.
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Date: 2023-01-02 11:49 pm (UTC)"Of course I didn't have to. It just...felt right." That's it, that's his entire reason.
The idea had occurred to him anyway, outside of any holiday gift-giving. Wintersday just provided the occasion.
"It's not even 'bout this place. I'd do it back home too. I mean...I'd clear it with Sesyria first, 'cause technically it's his house," details, details, "but I'd still do it."
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Date: 2023-01-05 02:02 am (UTC)"I'm a guest," he says, trying to put into words how this has unseated so many expectations of himself. "Everywhere I go."
But he has a key now. "No one's ever- a key is different."
He straightens just enough to kiss Vrenille, very softly. "Thank you. ...The gloves feel a little small as gifts go, now."
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Date: 2023-01-05 02:07 pm (UTC)"Like I said, the gloves are perfect--you making 'em for me, thinking of me, not knowing I was gonna do this. Which I've been thinking 'bout for a while, by the by. The keyring, sure, nice Wintersday gift 'n all, but the key? I was gonna give you that anyway. That's not 'bout exchanging gifts. It's just 'cause it feels right."
It feels a little like when he first invited Hakkyuu to his hideout as a kid; like an echo of that anyway. He's known Jesus for longer now than he'd known Hakkyuu then, on that first day, of course, and the key to his home is a different thing, sure. But there's that same sense in his gut that's guiding him, a certainty about the choice.
"City doesn't give us many options, right? Guest or contract partner's pretty much it. So we make our own way. Key means any day or any night, whether I'm here or not, whether we've spoken or planned or haven't, any time, any reason, for so long as either of us is in this place."
That's the sort of welcome this is. It's not the same as what his guild gave him, but it's about as close as he can come here.
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Date: 2023-01-17 04:20 pm (UTC)"I'm going to have to remember not to ring the doorbell before I come in," he says with a light chuckle.
"What are the house rules?"
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Date: 2023-01-18 03:50 pm (UTC)And then he hits on something.
"Oh! I know one important one: If the Crisco leaves the kitchen, it cannot come back into the kitchen."
He manages to deadpan that for a good three or four seconds, before he breaks into a laugh. "Nah, I'm just kidding. Everyone in this house has better lube options than Crisco anyway."
no subject
Date: 2023-01-19 08:20 pm (UTC)And for this moment, looking at his friend, holding a key in his hand, he can honestly believe that Vrenille wants him to stay.
"Who taught you about Crisco?" He asks, still laughing.
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Date: 2023-01-24 03:49 pm (UTC)"Pretty sure it was this guy Eggsy. Weird name but he swore it was what everyone including his mom called him. He was an English guy, Londoner from...I wanna say 2015 or so?"
Vrenille's tone and something in his eyes probably says on its own that this is someone no longer in the city--a fond memory of a friend made here and now gone. "He used to say the damnedest things, seemed to always be explaining half it 'em to everyone. Least it wasn't just me," he shakes his head and looks at Jesus fondly, letting the little reminiscence bridge past and present. "You'd 've liked him."
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Date: 2023-01-25 05:29 pm (UTC)"One thing I love about this place is we never have to get desperate with the lube."
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Date: 2023-01-25 05:53 pm (UTC)"Got more options here than back home by a whole shelf-full." Though also, this makes him think of something--tangential to lube, yes, but not wholly unrelated.
Still smiling as he looks at Jesus, his expression shifts just a degree more earnest. "Can I ask you something?"
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Date: 2023-01-25 06:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2023-01-25 06:07 pm (UTC)"Does K know 'bout your collar?"
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Date: 2023-01-25 06:23 pm (UTC)"I only wear it to play with you," he says. "And I don't really talk about what I do with other men with him much."
He looks away, then back at Vrenille. "Why do you ask? Should I have?"
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Date: 2023-01-25 06:35 pm (UTC)He's a little hesitant here, but not because he thinks Jesus has done anything wrong, and not because he wants to see anything at all between them change. That's something that worries him, bringing this up. What they have is special to him, special enough to protect it; it's just a question of what protecting it looks like.
"I don't wanna overstep. What you 'n him talk 'bout, how you are together--it's between the two of you, it's not my place. But I see how you look at each other. If he saw 'n got the wrong idea... I don't want him get hurt. I don't want you to get hurt either. I dunno. What do you think?"
It's an honest question. He doesn't know the right answer, he doesn't know if there is one, really.
no subject
Date: 2023-01-25 07:33 pm (UTC)"But this matters to me," he rests a hand on Vrenille's. "I like playing with you. I think he'll understand. I'll explain it to him. But I don't want this to change. It's important to me, too."
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