He felt something drop and shatter when Varker dropped his hand. He wasn't sure if it was that, or just a realization that...
While the attraction was there on Varker's part, there was truly no romantic interest in him. Because if he did...he wouldn't have tried to ask this would he?
Oscar shut his eyes tight, feeling cold, and very much his age.
"I think," his voice was shaking, "that you need to go back to your cabin."
He can feel him tense, Varker pausing as the record fills the silence. He can still feel his pulse, and for a moment he thinks maybe the push was being ignored, but then-
Varker's hand on his back stills, pulling back from where he'd been giving his neck attention and looks up at Oscar, scoffing, "you can't be serious."
He'd asked him to, and he delivered, hadn't he? "It isn't like you can't taste it on me, you think I'd tell if you indulged with me?"
Audrey has stayed quiet for most of this, chirps in confusion when there is the slightest bit of panic starting to build. He can't say he miscalculated, it was a stupid and risky game to begin with, but he hadn't expected...
Instead of what should be an apology he latches on to the thing he shouldn't, taking a step back from Oscar as he straightens his own robe, "hard enough, Mm? Such a god damn chore, but 'its hard to not kiss you, Clement'" he parrots back at him.
He grabbed the back of the couch, and his face went tight. Angry.
"Because I wanted to kiss you. Because I was attracted to you. Not. The liquor."
Despite the anger, his voice only became a rumble, deep in his chest.
"Get out."
Usually Oscar was soft spoken, polite. It was really a sign of how much he cared that he was keeping himself in place. If Varker kept it up, he knew what he would do would be quick, precise, and angry.
He couldn't even bring himself to comfort Audrey just then.
Its the 'was' that kills Varker's confidence. He's completely lost the stupid game that Oscar didn't even know they were playing as his shoulders tense, attempting to clear his throat.
His face is flushed, more for the sense of shame that is starting to bleed in than any kind of embarrassment and he gives a stiff nod, his words even shorter, "very well."
His house shoes are forgotten and he pauses at the cabin door, hand hovering over the knob. He's never been good at apologizing, never been good at acknowledging his own parts played in all the ways he has fucked up his own life and here is no different
The moment passes, he says nothing, hes out the door. He can swear in the hall and berate himself there instead as he makes a devastatingly slow walk of shame in the direction of home.
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no subject
While the attraction was there on Varker's part, there was truly no romantic interest in him. Because if he did...he wouldn't have tried to ask this would he?
Oscar shut his eyes tight, feeling cold, and very much his age.
"I think," his voice was shaking, "that you need to go back to your cabin."
no subject
Varker's hand on his back stills, pulling back from where he'd been giving his neck attention and looks up at Oscar, scoffing, "you can't be serious."
He'd asked him to, and he delivered, hadn't he? "It isn't like you can't taste it on me, you think I'd tell if you indulged with me?"
no subject
"But I would know. I-"
He took a deep breath, and exhaled through his nose.
"I'm serious. It's hard enough to taste it on you. Please leave."
no subject
Instead of what should be an apology he latches on to the thing he shouldn't, taking a step back from Oscar as he straightens his own robe, "hard enough, Mm? Such a god damn chore, but 'its hard to not kiss you, Clement'" he parrots back at him.
no subject
"Because I wanted to kiss you. Because I was attracted to you. Not. The liquor."
Despite the anger, his voice only became a rumble, deep in his chest.
"Get out."
Usually Oscar was soft spoken, polite. It was really a sign of how much he cared that he was keeping himself in place. If Varker kept it up, he knew what he would do would be quick, precise, and angry.
He couldn't even bring himself to comfort Audrey just then.
no subject
His face is flushed, more for the sense of shame that is starting to bleed in than any kind of embarrassment and he gives a stiff nod, his words even shorter, "very well."
His house shoes are forgotten and he pauses at the cabin door, hand hovering over the knob. He's never been good at apologizing, never been good at acknowledging his own parts played in all the ways he has fucked up his own life and here is no different
The moment passes, he says nothing, hes out the door. He can swear in the hall and berate himself there instead as he makes a devastatingly slow walk of shame in the direction of home.