[CLOSED TO LANCELOT]

[reticence]

What with the business with the medium and then the slight eruption of chaos in the city following the turnover within the Islington nest on Samhain, Faolan wasn't certain at first that he would get the chance to make this second attempt any time soon. But as the dust begins to settle, he realizes it's now or never, and with the holidays coming up and who knows what else might follow given the current political state of affairs, he knows he has to act now or not at all.

So it is one night that he turns to the other man, as they're packing up at work at the end of the day to go their separate ways -- Faolan hasn't quite been following Lancelot home after work as often as he might have done before the fiasco with the French restaurant, slightly self-conscious of the act now that, well. Lancelot's agreed to accept and even reciprocate his affections, for that matter. A fact that he can't quite wrap his mind around.

"Do you...have any plans this weekend?" he asks, trying (and most likely failing) to be nonchalant as he does.

Comments

[knightscode]

"Might be for the best that it isn't."

He turns and snags his coat off a hook, shrugs it on and begins zipping up his rucksack.

"I'll let you know," Lancelot agrees, and checks the screen on his phone before pocketing it. "I'll send out some messages tonight. You'll probably need to book quickly before the tickets sell out."

[reticence]

Faolan nods slightly. He'll get tickets that evening, perhaps. If it turns out that Lancelot can't go, he can always just give them away to someone. Someone in Hillingdon, perhaps. He doesn't really want to share that he's going if he is, but if it turns out that they can't make it, well. Liadan might enjoy it, maybe? He's not going to let himself think about worst-case-scenarios though.

He adjusts his hold on his bag and nods again, absently. "Great," he says. "Yeah, I. Think I learned my lesson the first time." Certainly no more fancy French restaurants at least until he knows the evening won't crash and burn around one. "I'll. Walk with you to the train?" It isn't often that their schedules line up like this these days, with Faolan's responsibilities as they are.

[knightscode]

"Worried I might get lost?" he teases, but he moves around from behind his desk toward Faolan regardless -- swinging his rucksack onto his shoulders and tugging his jacket a little straight again. "I think I remember the way, although I wouldn't say no to company."

[reticence]

Faolan flashes Lancelot something of a smile in response to his words. Inclining his head towards the other man and gesturing towards the door.

"For the company, then," he replies. Certainly not for the protection -- after all, Lancelot would probably be better in a fight against most of whatever might come after them than Faolan could ever hope to be.

"I promise not to try and offer you my arm as we walk," he says, before his smile flicks wider again and he continues, "Not unless you want me to, of course." It'd probably be awkward anyway, given their height difference, although he wisely doesn't point that out himself.

[knightscode]

"I don't think I need the support," Lancelot replies easily, "but if you think I might make you weak at the knees I can let you hold on."

His lips twitch in playful amusement as he pushes the door open and holds it for Faolan to follow him through.

[reticence]

Faolan still isn't quite used to Lancelot teasing him quite so openly and so something of a flush spreads across his face in response to it, though he flicks him a smile before ducking his head and moving to trail after him.

"Is that a promise, then?" he asks, as slyly as he can, glancing up at the other man as they start their way out of the office and down the hall through the building to the street outside.

[knightscode]

"Do you need me to promise?" Lancelot prompts, with something of a faux-innocent surprise. "I thought you'd know I'm always here to help you up if you lose your feet."

That's what they're talking about, right? Lancelot helping Faolan up if he gets weak at the knees.

[reticence]

Faolan blinks at Lancelot for a moment as they walk. He had thought--... But no, he can see the expression on the other man's face, and he's seen it enough before to recognize that the other man is just teasing him further.

Stepping closer to the other man, he shoulders him lightly in the side before discretely slipping his hand into the crook of his elbow. "Sorry," he apologizes, not sounding very sorry at all. "Guess I must have slipped."

[knightscode]

"Age catches up with us all. Nothing to be ashamed of."

Lancelot winks playfully at Faolan, reaching his other hand over to rest on Faolan's fingers latched around his arm.

"Although this is a little old fashioned, even for me. It makes me feel as if we should have a chaperone."

[reticence]

Faolan huffs out something of a laugh at that. Even for me, he says, and he shakes his head slightly. Lancelot may be older than him, but he's not that much older.

"I doubt that anyone back then would even consider the idea of needing to chaperone two men on their walk," Faolan considers. "Though no doubt I'd need to maintain at least two feet of distance between us if we wanted to be respectable." He squeezes his hand on the other man's arm, moving to place his free hand over Lancelot's. Holding it there for a moment before gently sliding his hand down Lancelot's arm and lacing their fingers together instead.

"Better?" he asks, with the quirk of a smile, his face slightly flushed because he still can't quite come to terms with the fact that he's managed to come this far.

[knightscode]

Lancelot squeezes Faolan's hand and swings it slightly, quirking him a sideways smile.

"Good enough," he allows, then lets go of Faolan's hand and takes a half-step closer -- reaches out to hook an arm around Faolan's waist and loop a thumb through one of his belt loops to secure himself there. "Better," Lancelot suggests a little more softly.

[reticence]

The color creeps a little deeper, a little higher on his cheeks, across his ears and down his neck, as Lancelot slips his arm around his waist and slips his thumb into his belt loop, settling there. But he's not about to shrug out of the gesture. He's just not quite sure how to react at first. Perhaps because he still can't quite wrap his mind around the fact that Lancelot wants this.

But he must. He does. He glances up at the other man for a moment, before stepping closer and leaning against him. Tentatively snaking his arm around Lancelot in turn, except the other man is wearing a backpack and he can't quite get his hand on the small of his back the way he wants to. He's too short to sling an arm across his shoulders above the bag so he moves his hand lower, to snake underneath it. But that puts his hand just below the other man's belt. And perilously close to being a little too low, for polite company at least.

Faolan's face flushes further still.

[knightscode]

He lofts an eyebrow at Faolan, amused by the slip, but carries on walking regardless and doesn't let go.

"Careful," he says in a soft aside. "I think that'll get us a little more attention than I'd like."

Public groping, that is, even if Faolan hadn't really intended it. At least, he assumes he hadn't b the way his face is slowly colouring.

[reticence]

"I..." Faolan stutters, at once mortified by his own actions and. Pleasantly surprised by Lancelot's response, to tell the truth. It isn't as though the man is telling him not to because it makes him uncomfortable or shying away from the touch. He merely comments on how it might be too much for the public eye. Which Faolan understands, considering it really wasn't what he had meant to do in the first place.

He doesn't want to pull away. He doesn't want Lancelot to pull away. He should probably move his hand before they start getting looks though. Carefully sliding his hand into the space between Lancelot's bag and his jacket from there, until his hand is pressed flat against his back and secured there underneath the weight of it. "There," he says glancing up at the other man, his face still rather red although luckily it's too dark for anyone to be able to see it much from a distance. "Sorry, I..." Didn't mean to, hadn't been able to do this until he had had his hand there in the first place, couldn't reach his shoulders over his bag... "I'm short," he explains at last.