oneman_onevote | On the Heart of Gold

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Havelock is reading quietly as he waits until it is time to leave. He has been ready for some time now. Clean clothing, combed hair. There is about half an hour left before he needs to go. Plenty of time to finish the section on crossbows.

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"Always a possibility, I suppose," he agrees.

He raises an eyebrow at Havelock's clothes.

"Though, as no one did die, I must inquire as to the rather somber color you've chosen."

"...On Antar the colour of mourning is white," Havelock points out.

"Yes, but you're putting me in mind of a funeral."

Is that a pout?

"I apologise," he says carefully.

Puck? You may have you work cut out for you.

Yes, he may.

"Really?"

"Yes," he says blandly. "I cannot imagine that funerals are something pleasant to be put in mind of. Thus, I apologise."

He absently kisses Puck's nearest hand, eyes still on the book.

Puck leans close to Havelock's ear, tongue sliding along the edge. "I never see you in anything but black, you know."

Havelock tilts his head slightly, then turn to look blankly at Puck.

"Some of my clothing is grey," he offers. "I wear that often."

When hiding in shadows.

If he's put out by this response (and you can bet he is), he doesn't show it.

With his lips still very, very close to Havelock's ear: "Grey is only a paler shade of black, dear one."

"But looks different," he points out. "Depending on the shade."

He doesn't move, although Puck's mouth tickles slightly when he speaks.

"Not different enough. This is a celebration, sweet."

"But- what else would you suggest?" he asks, with the faintest suggestion of plaintiveness.

"I brought clothing suitable for a war."

He still has the book open.

Puck smiles, not moving far back enough for it to matter.

"I think, between the number of voyagers on our little ship, we might be able to work something out."

If his expression were less unreadable, Havelock might be communicating a 'deer in headlights' look.

"I really do not see why it is so necessary," he tries tentatively. "Assassins always dress in black."

Puck kisses him.

"A little change now and then never goes amiss."

Havelock does not flail.

Visibly.

"I... I still do not see how colours can make so much difference. Why would any other colour be preferable?"

Instead of replying, Puck kisses him again, sliding onto his lap for easier access.

His hands move gently to rest on Puck's waist. He isn't complaining, though slightly confused.

"Hmm?"

Puck's fingers comb through his hair, the tiny smile on his face indicating perhaps that he isn't interested in the subject just now.

"Shh."

Havelock obligingly makes no further sound, though he still gazes up enquiringly. Puck's fingers running through his hair are oddly distracting, anyway.

Puck presses a kiss to his forehead, the bridge of his nose, and down to his lips, fingers still in his hair.

He ignores any puzzlement.

The book falls off the bed unnoticed as Havelock abandons the idea of getting an answer. His hands move up Puck's body slowly and end up on his shoulders.

The sound of the book hitting the floor has probably made his week. Puck kisses along Havelock's jaw and to his ear, and nibbles.

Which provides such convenient access to Puck's neck. Havelock smiles and leans in, kissing softly down to his shoulder.

With a soft sound like a purr, Puck tilts his head, nipping a little harder at Havelock's ear and following it with his tongue. He presses himself close against Havelock, one hand running down the back of his neck and to his side.

He murmurs into Havelock's ear, "Well, think it over, will you?"

And disappears.