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Havelock, in an effort to keep his mind of various things, is writing letters in the library, secluded at a desk and left alone by librarians, possibly out of recognition of a kindred spirit, possibly just out of self-preservation.

(Admittedly, this is itself part of an experiment into how completely he can keep his mind clear of incriminating thought trails. Multi-tasking is a way of life.)

Most are still in the draft stages, although one to Lilly is finished - writing in cipher is easy enough, even if their delivery methods are rather roundabout - and he has several piles of sheets in various stages scattered around him. It's organised chaos to Havelock, and presumably just chaos to anyone else.

He stares, intent for a moment on the line he has just written, narrows his eyes critically, and crosses it through.

It's such a temptation to go too far into irony when manipulating politicians.

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Havelock is not in their room.

He's not outside, which perhaps he could have been if he wanted to practice his throwing aim under nocturnal conditions.

He's not in the bar (Puck checked the rafters).

That leaves ... well, a few likely places, but of all of them Puck finds the likeliest to be that room with all the books in.

A silent shape, with tousled hair and bright curious eyes, appears abruptly in the doorway and casts about searchingly.

It's a solid deduction!

Havelock is not actually in the shadows here, as that is counterproductive for both reading and writing, but in a warmly lamp-lit corner. He peruses a page thoughtfully, pen held poised in ink-stained fingers, but only taps the end against the desk in faint irritation rather than writing any more.

He just remembered what he was trying not to think about. This won't do at all.

(It isn't helping with the letter-writing either.)

There is some academic or other who says that we begin looking where we can cast light, however inaccurate that light may be.

Fortunately for Puck, Havelock is a precise sort of person.

He disappears again, flickering into view (prudently) not behind him or otherwise out of view, but leaning against the desk.

"Do I disturb your work?"

"No more than I keep doing myself," Havelock says ruefully, pushing the page away.

(He leaves black fingerprints, without caring much - he will have to rewrite a copy in any case.)

The ink staining his fingers is eyed with interest.

--But at the moment, there are slightly more pressing matters to attend to.

"Oh, good," Puck says vaguely.

"I've a gift for you."

He withdraws the letter and seal from his pocket, setting them on the desk in front of Havelock.

"What do you make of this? I've a glad suspicion, and one slightly less glad."

Havelock takes the letter with a frown that isn't quite becoming in somebody accepting a gift from their loved one - but then, this is one present with undertones.

He unfolds the paper and reads in silence.

Slowly, his eyebrows lift.

Puck snorts.

"Quite."

"Well," says Havelock, folding it shut again, and turning his frown in Puck's direction.

"Is it at least accurate?"

"There is a marvelous easy manner of making a test of it," Puck says, brightening a little.

He clears his throat.

"I do despise that vampire known as Vlad Tepesh," he says, and startles a little. Then he grins. "Or Vlad Drakulya, as the case may be. It is my fervent wish that he perish in a fire."

... Well.

That's a relief.

Puck bursts into a gale of delighted laughter.

"Sadly, I doubt that can be managed," Havelock informs him, but smiles.

"Good."

"Oh--"

Puck can hardly speak for laughing, but he abandons speaking for the moment anyhow to throw himself into Havelock's lap and kiss him, quite insistently, on the mouth.

"I despise him--" he gasps, between a giggle and another kiss.

"I truly-- truly do--"

By this point Havelock is laughing too, if much more quietly - library instincts can only be broken so far- and catching an arm around Puck's waist.

"I know," he manages, around kisses.

"With the greatest venom."

Puck winds his own arm around Havelock's neck, pressing a kiss to the corner or his mouth and then to his forehead.

"So. That matter would seem to be settled. The creature did not lie."

"It appears not," Havelock says, leaning his head sideways against Puck's shoulder.

"Although why he released you so suddenly I cannot fathom. What did he want in the first place?"

He rolls his eyes.

"I can hardly imagine his reasons. Perhaps he has managed to come by a--"

Puck stops speaking.

And opens his mouth.

... Yeah, he knew this was too good to be true.

Havelock lifts his head again, to peer at Puck's face.

Ah.

"Interesting," he says softly and grimly.

"Oh, dear," Puck murmurs.

He looks a little as though he'd like to be sick, which on a fairy is a rather impressive expression, and slumps slightly in Havelock's lap.

"I think I know what meaning I am to take from this."

Havelock's arm tightens around him just a little.

The vampire was searching for something, then. Something particular - and presumably not a victim, as he seemed to come by those easily enough...

"Which is?"

Puck smiles ruefully, reaching up to stroke over Havelock's cheekbone with a fingertip.

"'Tis my own error, I suppose. He might have held me to the contract he devised, and no other-- save that I spoke my own, as well."

Havelock doesn't wince, but it's a near-run thing.

"Oh dear," he says mildly.

"And you can't tell me what that was. I don't suppose there is a convenient method of breaking your vows of which we might make use?"

Assuming Puck can tell it to him, even if there is.

Puck opens his mouth.

And shuts it.

"Whatever it may be, I suppose at least now I may seek it out," he says miserably.

Havelock sighs faintly, then strokes a gentle hand over Puck's shoulder and leaves it there, holding on.

Well, at least the plans to undo this are already set in motion.

And now secrecy is no issue...

"Well," he says slowly, in a tone that on anyone else would be mildly sheepish. "At least I was somewhere in working around that. Next time you see River Tam, please could you think clearly about your terms and any possible methods of gaining your release? She is forewarned."

This really does feel better than doing it without Puck's knowledge. Hmm.

Puck blinks, surprised.

Then he laughs.

"Oh," he says. "I thought you were up to something."

"Hardly up to something," Havelock says, with creditable sincerity.

"Talking to certain people, yes."

He grins.

"Oh, yes."

And casts a curious glance to Havelock's hand on his shoulder, which he takes in both of his and turns it over, tracing out the ink-stains.

He glances at Havelock from under his lashes.

"Master Riddle ... River Tam ... Master Wells. I had no notion you were ever so agreeable in company."

Havelock lets him have his hand with only a mildly puzzled look. Puck is probably very well acquainted with it already - under the black inkstains are pale, finely articulated fingers with smooth calluses and the occasional thin scar, just as always - but whatever he likes.

"Yes, I am a social butterfly," Havelock deadpans in the meantime.

Puck snorts softly, and brings Havelock's hand to his lips to press a kiss to a dark smudge.

"I shall make my thoughts as clear as I may," he murmurs, "but I feel I ought to warn you--"

He sighs.

"You may read the contents of my heart, Havelock. But I am not certain what may be made of it."

Havelock shrugs.

"We will see when it comes to it. Lord Ostium has offered his assistance in interpreting what Miss Tam may discover."

It's a veritable chain of mind-reading.

Now with 100% more prior consent!

"Yes."

Puck has not released his hand, trailing soft kisses over his fingertips.

He's momentarily stuck for ideas.

Havelock nods once, watching him.

After a moment,

"You'll get ink on your mouth."

Puck pauses, and blinks up at him.

He laughs in a soft gust of breath.

"I scarcely mind it."

Havelock shrugs, as this is a fair point - then reaches up to press one fingertip deliberately onto Puck's forehead.

It makes a light but recognisable grey fingerprint.

He snorts, eyes rolling upward towards the spot he can feel but not see. "You shall make a very motley fool of me, darling."

This is not something he minds, if the light grazing of his teeth and lips over the pad of Havelock's hand is any indication.

For a moment, he is very intent on the progress of his lips along the side of Havelock's thumb.

Then, pulling away slightly:

"I shall have to speak."

Havelock just grins at him, watching his progress with polite interest. Puck's bravery in risking inkstains is somehow unsurprising, and certainly pleasant.

"Shall you?"

That grin of his gets one in return, though it quickly fades into something more thoughtful.

"I shall," he says, "which is, I think, the root of the trouble."

His lips close over Havelock's index finger-- and, because this is a strategy session, he only sucks down a little bit.

Mmmmink.

"Otherwise," he adds, as an afterthought, "the thing shall remain unbroken, and myself obligated still by my own words."

Havelock nods thoughtfully.

And considers one or two options.

"Forcing speech is not my particular area of expertise," he says. "But I think it may be possible."

"Do you?"

He smiles faintly, releasing Havelock's hand.

"Irresistible though your persuasions may be to me, sweet, I hope you shan't be offended if they profit us little in this case."

"I had something rather more active in mind than asking you nicely," Havelock says dryly.

"Do you remember where we put that lasso you found?"

Puck snorts, sticking out his tongue-- and then his face lights up with conspiring curiosity.

"I thought I had inquired the same of you," he protests.

"And not so long ago, at that."

"Hmm," Havelock says, thoughtful.

"Well, it can't have gone far. It seems a fair place to start."

He laughs.

"Oh, my. I suppose we may begin by searching the Lost and Found ..."

He cuts himself off with a small fit of snickering.

"Havelock," he says, "if this scheme falls out, I shall think it the most agreeable end to a curse ever devised."

Havelock shrugs.

"I think it will be agreeable to have this ended any way it comes about," he sighs. "Enforced silence just doesn't suit you."

Obviously, this is the only reason he cares.

Slowly, Puck's eyebrows climb.

"How curious," he murmurs owlishly.

"I seem to recall an occasion or three upon which you have expressed a decidedly different opinion."

Is this a good time to mention he's still in Havelock's lap?

Havelock's eyebrows raise in answer.

"Oh, that was quite different," he assures Puck. "Because I was the one enforcing it."

...He did say he would work on his jealousy.

Puck laughs again, softly.

"Oh," he says.

"I see."

~~He gets all tingly when Havelock takes control like that.~~

"In that case-- after this is ended, perhaps we might do well to keep hold of that lasso." His head cants pleasantly to one side. "Simply for security's sake."

Havelock nods with the pleasant serenity of one who is completely comfortable with his control issues.

"I don't see why not," he says.

Puck grins, and leans forward to press a kiss to Havelock's forehead.

"I look forward to it."

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Havelock Vetinari

December 2012

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