storypaint (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
storypaint) wrote2011-05-31 11:36 pm
storypaint) wrote2011-05-31 11:36 pm
[Chrestomanci Chronicles] unring a bell (Christopher/Conrad)
Title: unring a bell
Fandom: Chrestomanci Chronicles
Length: 481 words
Prompt: fic_promptly: Chronicles of Chrestomanci, Christopher/Conrad, that's not what I heard
Pairing: Christopher/Conrad established
Other: Set around Conrad's Fate and obviously a bit AU.
Excerpt: The trick to really knowing Christopher was to know how to interpret the things that he said. He hated being clear when he could be fabulously obscure, and he thrived on formality and assumptions.
The trick to really knowing Christopher was to know how to interpret the things that he said. He hated being clear when he could be fabulously obscure, and he thrived on formality and assumptions. It drove Conrad crazy sometimes. He might have known Christopher better than anyone, but he wasn't a mind-reader.
"I have no idea how I was supposed to know that meant to meet you in the broom closet," Conrad said, sounding a little sulky. He sat down on the side of his bed and kicked off his shoes. Christopher always complained if he tracked mud on the carpet, and they'd been out that afternoon learning plant charms. Conrad had fallen in the ha-ha. It was a pretty normal day at the Castle.
"But it was obvious, Grant. Didn't you see the way I lifted my eyebrow, like so?"
Christopher was removing his shirt carefully and returning it to a hanger. He paused to lift one eyebrow, solemnly. He'd managed to remain entirely clean, down to the soles of his shoes. Millie had whispered something about how the dirt was too afraid of catching Christopher's pomposity, and Conrad had grinned a little. In retrospect, that made Christopher's apparent invitation all the more strange. Touching Conrad would have been touching the mud. It wasn't something Christopher would normally consider.
"I'll remember that in the future," Conrad said, rolling his eyes. He pulled his shirt off and tossed it on top of his shoes. They'd all need to be washed, after all. He ignored the pointed look that Christopher gave him.
"Well, the signal will be different in the future, so that no one will catch on," Christopher said.
Conrad wanted to say that everyone had caught on: after all, he was always following Christopher around like a stray puppy, and Christopher's cheery arrogant presence made their joint disappearances all the more noticeable. He didn't say it, though. The secretive aspect was kind of neat, he thought. Practice for when he'd go back to Series 7 and be an agent for the Chrestomanci. Only in those situations there would probably be less kissing.
"You should know when I want you, Grant," Christopher said, and there was a sort of mischievous spark in his eyes that Conrad could actually recognize, yes, and so he quit fiddling with his pants buttons and crossed the room to where Christopher was standing. He rested his hands on Christopher's hips and kissed him for a long moment. Christopher looped his arms around Conrad's shoulders.
"Wouldn't this have been more exciting in the broom closet?" Christopher asked.
"If you like bumping elbows into shelving, maybe," Conrad retorted, slipping free of Christopher's embrace, although unable to hide his smile.
"We shall have to try again tomorrow," Christopher declared.
"If you insist," Conrad said, failing to sound put-upon in any way, and they both returned to getting ready for dinner.
Fandom: Chrestomanci Chronicles
Length: 481 words
Prompt: fic_promptly: Chronicles of Chrestomanci, Christopher/Conrad, that's not what I heard
Pairing: Christopher/Conrad established
Other: Set around Conrad's Fate and obviously a bit AU.
Excerpt: The trick to really knowing Christopher was to know how to interpret the things that he said. He hated being clear when he could be fabulously obscure, and he thrived on formality and assumptions.
The trick to really knowing Christopher was to know how to interpret the things that he said. He hated being clear when he could be fabulously obscure, and he thrived on formality and assumptions. It drove Conrad crazy sometimes. He might have known Christopher better than anyone, but he wasn't a mind-reader.
"I have no idea how I was supposed to know that meant to meet you in the broom closet," Conrad said, sounding a little sulky. He sat down on the side of his bed and kicked off his shoes. Christopher always complained if he tracked mud on the carpet, and they'd been out that afternoon learning plant charms. Conrad had fallen in the ha-ha. It was a pretty normal day at the Castle.
"But it was obvious, Grant. Didn't you see the way I lifted my eyebrow, like so?"
Christopher was removing his shirt carefully and returning it to a hanger. He paused to lift one eyebrow, solemnly. He'd managed to remain entirely clean, down to the soles of his shoes. Millie had whispered something about how the dirt was too afraid of catching Christopher's pomposity, and Conrad had grinned a little. In retrospect, that made Christopher's apparent invitation all the more strange. Touching Conrad would have been touching the mud. It wasn't something Christopher would normally consider.
"I'll remember that in the future," Conrad said, rolling his eyes. He pulled his shirt off and tossed it on top of his shoes. They'd all need to be washed, after all. He ignored the pointed look that Christopher gave him.
"Well, the signal will be different in the future, so that no one will catch on," Christopher said.
Conrad wanted to say that everyone had caught on: after all, he was always following Christopher around like a stray puppy, and Christopher's cheery arrogant presence made their joint disappearances all the more noticeable. He didn't say it, though. The secretive aspect was kind of neat, he thought. Practice for when he'd go back to Series 7 and be an agent for the Chrestomanci. Only in those situations there would probably be less kissing.
"You should know when I want you, Grant," Christopher said, and there was a sort of mischievous spark in his eyes that Conrad could actually recognize, yes, and so he quit fiddling with his pants buttons and crossed the room to where Christopher was standing. He rested his hands on Christopher's hips and kissed him for a long moment. Christopher looped his arms around Conrad's shoulders.
"Wouldn't this have been more exciting in the broom closet?" Christopher asked.
"If you like bumping elbows into shelving, maybe," Conrad retorted, slipping free of Christopher's embrace, although unable to hide his smile.
"We shall have to try again tomorrow," Christopher declared.
"If you insist," Conrad said, failing to sound put-upon in any way, and they both returned to getting ready for dinner.