by R. Cooper
“Pretty sure humans regard briefs and nudity as practically the same thing.” Clematis forgot the notation he’d been about to make. “But I think I’ve seen them in pink somewhere. They were expensive, though.” He made a new note to look that up and to watch those fancy stores in the mall for sales.
“If I had pink briefs, I would be unstoppable.” Flor tossed more socks into the basket. “I could take on the university and your institute. My bossiness would have nothing to keep it in check.” Clematis almost smiled at how serious Flor was about it, and Flor noticed. “You only encourage it. Look at you, telling me my dream of sexy pink underwear exists.”
“Maybe I like you bossy.” Clematis had a stack of bills underneath his shopping list, and they should all be already noted in his phone, but he had to make sure.
“You haven’t even yelled at me for talking over the TV,” Flor remarked and reached for a stack of shirts.
“Hmm?” Clematis raised his head again. “Oh, right.” The TV was on. He only got basic channels so they were watching reruns of some weird show from decades ago with a lot of bubbles and terrible music. Flor had been laughing at most of the acts but in awe of the tacky costumes.
“TV might as well not exist for you, huh?” Flor’s lips were softly curved at one corner. “I bet Mrs. Galarza watches more current stuff than you.”
“She watches it with me,” Clematis corrected him mildly. “You could join us, but she doesn’t like you.”
Flor briefly spoke under his breath. “She’ll like me. I just have to figure out why she doesn’t first.”
“If you say so,” Clematis answered without any smugness at all. Mrs. Galarza was a human who did what she liked. He didn’t try to question it.
One of Flor’s shirts landed on his head.
“She probably likes you because you guys have so much in common. Being so old and all.” Flor leaned over to snatch his shirt back before Clematis could move.
“You picked this show,” Clematis replied lightly, and they both stared for a moment at the three women with giant hairdos all wearing poofy, sparkly yellow dresses. Flor snorted, then fell back, laughing.
Clematis smiled just watching him, and then Flor gasped and said, “Oh my God, those poor humans.” Clematis looked at the screen, saw the women wearing identical too-wide grins as they danced to twangy music, looked back at Flor, and a short laugh burst out of him before he covered his mouth.
Flor’s laugh only got louder and more wicked for that. “I would feel bad for them, but they chose to do this,” he said at one point, and then leaned over, displacing piles of clothes. “No, no, no hiding it.” He tugged at Clematis’s wrist until Clematis dropped his hand. Then Flor flopped against the back of the couch with a pleased, exhausted sigh. “You laughed,” he said once a commercial came on. He sighed again. “You have a good laugh.”
Clematis absolutely did not shiver. “You’ve never heard it before?”
“No, I have. But not enough, I think.” Apparently, Flor’s fit of amusement had taken all the drive out of him. He slumped down amid his half-done laundry. “I suppose that makes sense. Losing yourself in laughter isn’t something you would do in front of a lot of people. But a few people? Your friends? You should do that more. Makes me wish I was funnier.”
“We all already laugh at you.” Clematis sniffed.
Flor extended his leg to nudge Clematis with his foot. “Quit it, wise guy. Or I’ll point out that you never laugh at me.”
“You got whipped cream up your nose yesterday.” Clematis pointlessly searched through the papers next to him, although he wasn’t reading anything. “If you hadn’t had the napkin over your face and Lis smacking you on the shoulders, you would have seen me with tears in my eyes.”
“Ah, now that would be a sight.” Flor shifted and wriggled as if to get more comfortable, his laundry scattered and half-done. “I bet you were a crybaby as a kid.” Flor was fidgeting a lot, even for a fairy. “I bet you cried all the time, for everything.”
“No,” Clematis said simply. “There’s no point in it. It only upsets people and makes them angry.” He glanced over. “Do you want me to finish folding your clothes for you? You don’t have to stay if you’re bored.”
“I’m not bored,” Flor answered in a faint voice. He slowly pulled his legs up under him until he was kneeling and facing Clematis. “I’m curious about you. I feel like I’m always curious and then when you say something…. You know how you told me to talk to someone who knows about love if I needed help? I think the same applies here. You can talk to me. Always. But I don’t know about this stuff.”
Clematis stopped. “There’s cream soda in the fridge and Mallomars in the freezer.”
“Thank you?” Flor took a moment to respond to the abrupt subject change. “You know you don’t need to bribe me to stay, right? Wait! Mallomars? Did you stock up before summer? You genius!” But he didn’t move from the couch. “Does everybody get Mallomars? I can’t see Stephanie eating them, to be honest. She’d prefer something that comes in a gold box.”
“Stephanie wants what she’s never had. It doesn’t mean she doesn’t enjoy the things she’s used to.” Clematis had no idea why that statement made Flor’s grin get so warm. “Stephanie doesn’t come over here, anyway. But if she did, I would offer her those healthy chips she likes.”
“Because you are thoughtful and kind to your friends,” Flor responded, singsong and still grinning.
Clematis awkwardly rubbed his nose while Flor stared at him. “What?”
“I dunno. I just—” Flor gestured toward him. “What are you even doing over there? I guess I feel betrayed that Stephanie never told me you spend your evenings watching The Lawrence Welk Show reruns and playing on your phone.”
“You put this show on,” Clematis protested. “And I’m hardly going to go over to Stephanie’s to spend the night creating reminders to myself.”
“But you’re friends?” Flor was nonplussed. “True friendship is hanging out and not doing anything together? So of course you would—you’re creating reminders?”
“Yeah.” Clematis briefly angled his phone toward him. “I set at least two reminders for everything. Two alarms to get ready for work. Reminders to make my schedule for the week. When to pay bills. Another reminder to actually pay the bill. Not all humans are as understanding as Mrs. Galarza about occasional fairy forgetfulness. Check contents of fridge. Go through weekly ads for coupons. Clean the shower. That kind of stuff. You know.”
“That’s why your phone chirps and buzzes constantly?” Flor straightened. “Really? That’s awesome. I use the alarm function, but I never really thought about the calendar stuff. How come you’re fine with this tech but listening to music requires an ancient artifact?”
“I like technology. It’s not my fault it’s expensive.” Clematis hunched his shoulders. “Scheduling programs are free and very helpful for anyone struggling to be in a world built for only a certain kind of human.”
“You’re so gifted,” Flor said, a warm rush of words. “You come out with these incredible statements, and I don’t even know what to do with you.”
Clematis glanced over. “Whatever you want,” he murmured without thinking. “You know that.”
Flor’s gaze fixed on him, startled and hot, then flitted away. He stared at the TV and after several moments, repositioned himself so his feet were on the floor. He rested his hands on his knees.
Clematis looked away from Flor’s mouth, shocked and open. “Sorry. I know you don’t like it when I talk that way.”
Flor did an agitated little dance with his fingers on his knees. “It’s not that you say things. That I didn’t know—although I didn’t, exactly.” He stayed focused on the ridiculous dancing on the television. “When you… aim that weaponized version of yourself at everyone, it’s hard to believe you. It’s like a reflection. The perfect fairy that humans imagine. Magic. A spell. Glamour.” Flor curled one hand up tight. “But… but when you’re
not made of marble… when you’re the Clematis that untalented art students don’t bother to look for, the one I know, I… think about it sometimes.” Flor exhaled harshly, then went on. “So someone else will too. You don’t have to do that, be that, to get someone close to you.”
“You think about it?” Clematis barely recognized his own voice. He couldn’t move, but his skin was so hot and his heartbeat so fast. “You want me sometimes?” Flor continued to face the TV, light from the commercials bouncing off his glitter. Clematis wanted to ask if Flor had always wanted him, but held it back just in time. He knew the answer. “I didn’t mean to do that with you now,” he added softly. “But I meant it, if someday you ever want me again.”
Flor took a deep, deep breath, then released. The show came back on. “What reminder are you setting?” Flor asked, determined and breathless for all that he kept his face turned away.
Clematis stared blankly down at his phone and spoke around the lump in his throat. “I set my alarms to match my work schedule in case I fall asleep. I have a new half day on Fridays, so I thought I would remind myself to bring a bag to work, so I don’t have to stay in my work clothes all day. Then I put in a note when I leave work to make sure my bag is with me. I should also get some cash out. The convenience store nearest to the institute has a charge for using a card.”
He made a series of notations on the to-do list he kept on his phone, then returned to the calendar function to make appointments and reminders. The papers next to him crinkled. He pulled them out from where some had fallen between the cushions and peered down at his bills.
Flor wanted him, or had wanted him once. Flor was only a few feet away. None of that mattered because once was not now. Whatever it was about him that Flor desired must be something rare.
Digging around in the cushion some more, Clematis found his highlighter and pulled off the cap with his teeth. He held it in his mouth while he highlighted the due dates.
“You, uh, also highlight in your textbooks, I noticed,” Flor commented tightly as Clematis tapped the end of the highlighter against his lips.
“It’s an extra reminder, and everything looks nicer with a streak of orange or yellow or pink.” Clematis organized his bills by date, then uncurled his legs and reached down to the floor to find his other highlighter, which must have fallen. He made the payment amounts green. “I used to use colored paperclips, but these are brighter. Now the paperclips are to mark pages in my books I want to remember to reread.”
“Oh?” Flor’s question was almost lost in the flutter of his wings, the slow drag of his breath. “That’s… you filled your books with color?”
“My child psychology class had the best readings. A human would probably think I’d ruined the text with all my clips and notes.” Clematis sighed around the highlighter cap before popping it back on the pen.
Flor didn’t want him. Thinking about it was as useless as anything.
He reached for his stack of neon sticky notes but ultimately put it down.
“You took more than one psych class?” Flor asked, voice rising slightly when Clematis accidentally drew a streak of orange on his leg before getting the other highlighter closed as well. “You, um, you must like that subject a lot.”
“Child psychology was my favorite.” Clematis paused before starting to enter due dates into his calendar. “Although you would say it was limited. They meant only human children, of course. But I really liked most of it. I wish people were kinder to children. They live with more innocence and excitement than the shiniest of adults.”
“You like children?” The surprise in the question was at odds with how light it was, how Flor repeated himself with soft urgency. “Really? You do?”
Clematis lifted his head to stare at the blur of color on the TV screen. The thought of looking at Flor made him fumble his phone. But everything was organized. He had nothing left to deal with.
“Children should get to keep their shine,” Clematis answered huskily, while Flor moved at the corner of his vision. He was a haze of black and hot pink and sparkles.
“You dropped your phone.” Flor’s voice was equally rough. “And your highlighting pens.” He slipped down to the floor to pick them up and placed each item at Clematis’s side. The vivid hues in his wings made the stark black of his wavy curls especially striking, but Flor was always beautiful.
He kept his head down until he placed the last highlighter onto the cushion.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Clematis told him, as though traces of Flor’s shine weren’t touching his legs, his bare knees, the tips of his fingers, and he wasn’t frozen at how close Flor was.
“I, uh, didn’t realize you had a special relationship with office supplies.” Flor spoke with that same light, breathless quality, as if he wanted to tease but couldn’t manage it. He tipped his head up and his dark, dark eyes fixed on the streak of orange on Clematis’s skin. “I should get you some more paperclips and markers.”
“Why?” Clematis shifted. He didn’t want to move away, but he should.
Flor moved his hands to Clematis’s feet, fingertips glancing over his ankles. A quiet, aroused sound slipped out of Clematis before he bit his lip. He looked down to apologize and caught Flor staring at his mouth a second before Flor glanced away.
“Oh,” Clematis murmured stupidly, while a shadow of pretty color darkened Flor’s face. “But I wasn’t doing anything?” The statement was foolish even before he made it a question, and Flor turned to him again to scowl at him for it. “You don’t have to be on the floor,” Clematis went on softly, and thought his voice was shaking. “You want me,” he added a moment after that, his every muscle going tense with shock before a flush turned him warm and made his skin go pink. “You want me now.”
He reached down only to stop, chilled by the fear that Flor’s desire and whatever had sparked it were already gone. “Flor?” he whispered, too anxious to shut himself up in time.
Flor’s gaze locked on his. “Sometimes when I think about it—about you—it’s about you suffering through those dances. When we were in Crystal’s club and Stephanie was mad at you.” Stephanie had told Clematis to keep his hands on the arms of his chair, to keep absolutely still, and then paid for three separate dancers to grind in his lap. The memory of her command kept Clematis from arching up, but not as much as the slight pressure of Flor’s hands at his ankles. “You were very good for her,” Flor told him, watching intently as Clematis gasped and dug his hands into the cushions. “You were so good,” Flor added, quieter, but no less serious while Clematis began to get hard in front of him. Flor licked his lips before looking up into Clematis’s eyes. “Then I think she got it wrong. Or not, I don’t know. I’m bossy, but usually that’s not what people want from someone like me. I’ve never really….”
“How was she wrong?” Clematis stuttered through the question, chest tight at the uncertainty in Flor’s expression.
Flor looked like he wanted to squirm. But then he lifted his chin defiantly. “I wouldn’t have made you wait. You kept turning to her and pleading but you did everything she wanted. I wouldn’t have made you wait for it. You’re fairy. Don’t people know how fairies fuck? I would have let you come—made you come—over and over, because you can, and you should. Until you’re oversensitive and shaking because it’s too much. I’d like to see you like that.” Flor dropped his chin a fraction, and took his hands away. “But not in front of people. Not unless you wanted.”
“Only for you?” Clematis could not get his words to come out steadily.
“Only for you,” Flor growled back at him. “If you want, what you want. When I think about you, when I think about fucking you, I want you, and I don’t want to get that by making you need and suffer, and I don’t want you calculating how to give me anything. I want you to feel good. Or, like, laugh, or smile if you want. It was hot, seeing you there and what she did to you, but I—it made me angry too. I don’t know why except… it wasn’t how it should be.”
Flor’s eyes seemed to have light behind the black again. “Yes, you can,” he said, full of faith and fire, and dropped his head to kiss the streak of highlighter above Clematis’s knee. “I’ll try to be good for you too. If you still want that.”
“Flor.” Clematis couldn’t want anything else. He didn’t move except to tremble as Flor swept his fingers up his thigh and paused to kiss his other knee. “What… what do you want me to do?”
Everything was soft, sparkle and breath and Flor’s mouth skimming over his skin. Flor smiled, a crooked grin that made Clematis’s stomach flip, and stared up without raising his head, a curious, deviously pleased sort of look on his face.
“Take it,” Flor finally answered, bright and dark all at once. “I’m going to make you feel good and you’re going to take it. All right?” His gaze was too sharp, but his delight kept growing the longer Clematis struggled to look back at him and keep still. “Ah, you’re doing so well already. You’re going to take it and you’re going to make me so happy when you do.” Flor seemed riveted at the low sound that drew out of Clematis. “Give me a yes or no, please.”
“Yes.” Clematis shuddered with the force of his own answer and stared at Flor until his eyes stung. “I can take it… only—” He remembered being on the grass in the sun, Flor asking him things that still shook through him. “—only for you.”
Flor was off the floor in seconds, climbing up to straddle his lap and send the highlighters tumbling to the carpet. “We stop when you want,” he promised with a messy little kiss to Clematis’s cheek. “Give me a yes or no answer again for that, sweetheart.” He put his hands on the back of the couch and eased down into Clematis’s lap.