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31_days2008-11-03 12:14 am
sky-pirate-tat.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2008-11-03 12:14 am
[November 3] [Professor Layton]
Title: A Paradox
Day/Theme: November 3/ lately you make me
Series: Professor Layton
Character/Pairing: Luke, Future Luke, Layton
Rating: PG 13
Excerpt:He had been waiting for nightfall. It felt like ages had passed. His eyes were so bright with glee they could almost pierce the night with mirth.
He stood in front of the guestroom door, where ten minutes ago-- maybe less than that-- his mentor had retreated for bed. Luke undid choice buttons on his pajamas and loosened his pants, manipulating them in a way that they hung on his hips. Under his breath he rehearsed his lines.
“I didn't wake you, did I, professor? What? A nightmare?” Here he laughed as if embarrassed. “No, nothing of the sort.” And then, he would shrug his shoulder subtly, prompting the collar of his shirt to saunter down at the side, revealing bare skin, his shoulder blade.
“I just... I can't sleep knowing you're in the same house as me. Please, I--”
“Why are you talking to yourself?”
Luke jumped at the tenor of his past self's voice.
“A better question would be, why are you still awake?” He was quick to regain his composure, a gentleman always is.
“Probably the same as you-- I'm having trouble sleeping.” The boy's brow furrowed. “Aren't you a bit old to sleep with the professor?”
“Au contraire, I'm just the right age for it,” his counterpart purred under his breath.
“What was that?”
“Didn't you say you were having trouble sleeping? Here.” From the pocket of his nightclothes, he handed him a pocketbook of puzzles. “Maybe a few puzzles will help you sleep.”
Young Luke took the book eagerly, but doubted the older person's words. “Puzzles make us excited. I couldn't possibly grow tired this way.”
“It's much better than lying in bed with insomnia,” he suggested.
“I suppose...” Young Luke began to leave him, albeit warily. “But it's much easier to sleep with the professor. He smells nice.”
They both knew the scent well. The professor wore a specific kind of cologne: Unforgivable. Basil and a hint of lemon, along with the man's natural musk.
They stared at each other, and even though his younger self eventually retreated to the parlor, the feeling was still there. It was war. A twisted, paradoxical civil war.
The older youth shrugged his shoulders, unabashed by the declaration, and knocked on the door. He was sure he and Professor Layton wouldn't be interrupted. I'm too easy to deceive, he chortled then stopped, realizing what he had just said. Maybe that wasn't something to be too proud of.
He only had one knock before he was apprehended again.
“Can you help me with this one?” The boy pointed at the third problem, but his eyes didn't shout expectancy; rather they were determined.
Well, there was more than one way to scram a brat, he thought to himself. “Do you have a hint coin?”
“No.”
Hah.
“I can ask the professor for one though!”
The smug expression on the other half's face fell and he grabbed the back of the boy's shirt. “It's a bit late, don't you think?”
“What about you? Don't you think it's a bit late to bother the professor too?” Little Luke countered.
“What I'm going to bother the professor about... let's just say it won't be much of a bother once I... hehm never mind that and go back to your puzzle book.”
“What are you planning to do to the professor?!” he shouted. “You're not the future me; you're Don Paolo!”
“Hmph, try tugging at my face then.”
And the boy did.
“Ouch!”
“Alright then, what's your motive?”
“Nothing a child should hear.”
“Really now? What things?”
Before his older self could indulge him, the object of their affection opened the door, eyes ruddy and narrow. “What is all the clatter about, boys?”
Sensing the opportunity to fire accusation at the other, they both scrambled to talk at once. Hershel rubbed his eyes and said, quietly but effectively, “Bed.”
“What?” they baffled in unison.
“To bed, both of you.”
Their feet dragged to their separate rooms. Each grumbled under their breath about who deserved to sleep with the man and blaming the other for making said person angry.
The oldest's defeat only made him more persistent. As he lay in bed, he looked at the looming tower from his window. A new perverse plot filled his head and he thought, Why settle for one professor when I can have two?
Day/Theme: November 3/ lately you make me
Series: Professor Layton
Character/Pairing: Luke, Future Luke, Layton
Rating: PG 13
Excerpt:He had been waiting for nightfall. It felt like ages had passed. His eyes were so bright with glee they could almost pierce the night with mirth.
He stood in front of the guestroom door, where ten minutes ago-- maybe less than that-- his mentor had retreated for bed. Luke undid choice buttons on his pajamas and loosened his pants, manipulating them in a way that they hung on his hips. Under his breath he rehearsed his lines.
“I didn't wake you, did I, professor? What? A nightmare?” Here he laughed as if embarrassed. “No, nothing of the sort.” And then, he would shrug his shoulder subtly, prompting the collar of his shirt to saunter down at the side, revealing bare skin, his shoulder blade.
“I just... I can't sleep knowing you're in the same house as me. Please, I--”
“Why are you talking to yourself?”
Luke jumped at the tenor of his past self's voice.
“A better question would be, why are you still awake?” He was quick to regain his composure, a gentleman always is.
“Probably the same as you-- I'm having trouble sleeping.” The boy's brow furrowed. “Aren't you a bit old to sleep with the professor?”
“Au contraire, I'm just the right age for it,” his counterpart purred under his breath.
“What was that?”
“Didn't you say you were having trouble sleeping? Here.” From the pocket of his nightclothes, he handed him a pocketbook of puzzles. “Maybe a few puzzles will help you sleep.”
Young Luke took the book eagerly, but doubted the older person's words. “Puzzles make us excited. I couldn't possibly grow tired this way.”
“It's much better than lying in bed with insomnia,” he suggested.
“I suppose...” Young Luke began to leave him, albeit warily. “But it's much easier to sleep with the professor. He smells nice.”
They both knew the scent well. The professor wore a specific kind of cologne: Unforgivable. Basil and a hint of lemon, along with the man's natural musk.
They stared at each other, and even though his younger self eventually retreated to the parlor, the feeling was still there. It was war. A twisted, paradoxical civil war.
The older youth shrugged his shoulders, unabashed by the declaration, and knocked on the door. He was sure he and Professor Layton wouldn't be interrupted. I'm too easy to deceive, he chortled then stopped, realizing what he had just said. Maybe that wasn't something to be too proud of.
He only had one knock before he was apprehended again.
“Can you help me with this one?” The boy pointed at the third problem, but his eyes didn't shout expectancy; rather they were determined.
Well, there was more than one way to scram a brat, he thought to himself. “Do you have a hint coin?”
“No.”
Hah.
“I can ask the professor for one though!”
The smug expression on the other half's face fell and he grabbed the back of the boy's shirt. “It's a bit late, don't you think?”
“What about you? Don't you think it's a bit late to bother the professor too?” Little Luke countered.
“What I'm going to bother the professor about... let's just say it won't be much of a bother once I... hehm never mind that and go back to your puzzle book.”
“What are you planning to do to the professor?!” he shouted. “You're not the future me; you're Don Paolo!”
“Hmph, try tugging at my face then.”
And the boy did.
“Ouch!”
“Alright then, what's your motive?”
“Nothing a child should hear.”
“Really now? What things?”
Before his older self could indulge him, the object of their affection opened the door, eyes ruddy and narrow. “What is all the clatter about, boys?”
Sensing the opportunity to fire accusation at the other, they both scrambled to talk at once. Hershel rubbed his eyes and said, quietly but effectively, “Bed.”
“What?” they baffled in unison.
“To bed, both of you.”
Their feet dragged to their separate rooms. Each grumbled under their breath about who deserved to sleep with the man and blaming the other for making said person angry.
The oldest's defeat only made him more persistent. As he lay in bed, he looked at the looming tower from his window. A new perverse plot filled his head and he thought, Why settle for one professor when I can have two?