Thereafter Chapter 17: Clashing Hearts
Michael and Felipe spar, as well as get into other important activities; Lex has an unusual suggestion.
Wood struck wood with a dry crack as Felipe’s halberd intercepted Michael’s sword, a sweeping motion that Michael, despite getting knocked on his ass by similar blows all day, managed to miss. Felipe stepped into a downward strike as a followup, but Michael was prepared for that, jamming his off-hand cane into Felipe’s chest, no, where Felipe’s chest would be. A feint. Before Michael completed the movement he found himself, for the nth time that day, knocked over by a swift tripping sweep Felipe had pulled off at the last possible second.
“Fuck me, man, you’re easy to read,” Felipe said as he leaned on his weapon, waiting for Michael’s world to stop spinning and jolting quite so violently.
Michael ached. The training weapons they used had dull wood instead of sharpened steel as their blades, but it did not help much. Felipe’s naginata-looking spear-axe had plenty of force behind it when he swung it, and they had agreed to not hold back too much. Lying in the grass of the Field Room, Michael toyed with the idea of calling it, taking the lumps and the L and spending the rest of his day doing something actually useful. But no, he decided. He had spent more than enough time being silently annoyed at Felipe, it was time to get some slight catharsis if he could.
It didn’t help, Michael figured, that the Empedoclings had seemingly taken inspiration from their non-elemental masters and were practicing some sort of chaotic fighting between themselves based on some very Wrestling-esque tag-in system that was every bit as arcane as it was anarchic. Short version was that the floor on occasion littered with small scrapping elementals, and it made the proper footwork hard. It was exactly that kind of mistake that a reach weapon like Felipe’s was custom made to punish, an opportunity he had seized with gusto. It wasn’t so much that Felipe was a sadist, Michael figured, he was certainly more of a Brat, and so his decision to kick Felipe’s ass was somewhat mollified by the fact that it was just that outcome Felipe was angling for in the first place. Either that, or he had seen The Princess Bride one time too many and considered himself a modern-day incarnation of one fast-talking fencer or another.
“I thought you archer-types were supposed to use knives or whatever in close combat,” Michael said as he got his legs under him, step two in getting up for another go. Step one, naturally, had been gathering the will to get back up.
“There lies your mistake, Saint,” Felipe said. “I have nothing to contribute in close combat, unless you want to do that thing where our swords clinch and we get real into each other’s personal space.”
“Huh,” Michael said, the mental image was quite vivid, but he didn’t want to get distracted. Eyes on the prize. “One of these days you’re going to have to tell me why you’ve given me that catholic-ass nickname.”
“I’ll tell you if you get a hit in beefcake,” Felipe said, if he had masked his interest ever so slightly before, it was now pretty apparent. Felipe wanted to be bested, but not enough to actually throw the fight. It was an odd motivation, but at least Michael felt he could understand it.
If it was the taste of blood in his mouth Felipe wanted, Michael would certainly oblige. Whether he’d follow that up with more of the same or the actual necking that Felipe was looking for, remained to be seen. Then again, Michael thought as he righted his stance and raised his short sword and cane, it was possible to overthink these things.
“Alright, this one’s for all the marbles hotshot.”
“Match Point, Saint.”
“Ready?”
“Ready.”
Michael didn’t spring into action right away. He had tried that, and Felipe’s reactions were simply too fast, and his reach too long. That was the thing about functional muscle, of the sort Felipe had cultivated to power the draw of his bow, it was wiry, and could be so deceptively fast. Even with that in mind, Michael figured, Action was preferable to Reaction. Michael took a deep breath, and within himself, he found The Moment.
With rare calm, Michael launched himself into a slice at Felipe’s neck, Felipe wasn’t there any more, a quick back step had taken him out of danger. Michael followed up with an overarm sweep with his cane. Felipe stepped back again… or he would, had he not tripped over the empedocling pair that was having a Kurosawa-style standoff. It wasn’t a full trip, of course, but the shift of Felipe’s weight would do the trick. Felipe, for the first time in this sparring session, made a mistake. The imprecise sweep of the naginata wouldn’t bring Michael down, it was more to buy an inch of safety for Felipe to regain his footing.
Safety, however, would not be bought so cheaply. Michael’s cane shot out, catching the naginata, but not to stop it, not to deflect it. The cane hooked at the edge of the blade, propelling it faster into its clumsy swing. Felipe swayed dangerously as his defensive gambit entirely faltered. Michael was upon him, big and entirely too fast. Felipe scrambled back, but Michael wasn’t going to let him get away again. Michael’s cane hooked around Felipe’s neck, fixing him in place as Michael rushed in for the hit he had been aching for all afternoon.
In the end, Michael didn’t stab his short sword into Felipe’s solar plexus. There was no need to make a wounding blow out of it. Besides, Michael found himself thinking, there was a pleasant, if perverse tension to holding his wooden blade to Felipe’s heaving torso as he regained his breath. They were so close now, Michael wasn’t quite sure when he let his forehead rest on Felipe’s, but at one point he had. It was difficult to see much when you were as close as this, but Michael could see that Felipe had a bit of an expression on him.
Felipe’s eyes were glassy, focused on nothing in particular as he breathed heavily through partially open lips. There was an almost religious air to his awe, and yet, Michael wasn’t surprised when he heard Felipe whisper. “Kiss me.”
A part of Michael wanted to say “no,” to deny this desperate, spoiled little boy-man. It wanted to knock him down, step on him, watch him writhe in a mix of pain and wanton desire. Drive him mad with careless cruelty and then, at the apex of it all, when he was reduced to blearily swearing in his mother tongue and meek with desperation present his most vulnerable self, deny him. Kick him in the ribs. Tell him to take his mess elsewhere. Be every bit as much of a monster as he could ever have dreamed of, and watch how Felipe would cower before him like before an uncaring god. Michael felt all of that, in the span of a second he felt a chain of emotions and desires that he’d probably need a few more hours to process, let alone form an opinion about. There’d be time for that. Later. He kissed Felipe.
Felipe gasped as Michael brought his lips into contact with him. It was like the action revitalized the defeated archer, made him tilt his head, lean into the kiss, all but crazed with a sudden inexplicable need. Felipe tasted like some unpleasant lip balm, sweat and blood. It wasn’t Michael’s favorite taste, but the eager athlete clawing at his shirt was a pleasant enough experience. At some point, their weapons clattered to the ground, leaving only the cane holding Felipe up in Michael’s hand.
“Mother of God, Saint…” Felipe said. Michael wasn’t quite sure when they had stopped kissing, but it probably was recent. “You’re… hey how long have you two been here?”
Michael stepped away, it was a sudden movement that made him feel all the more guilty for how much the stiffness of it made him feel like he was caught doing something bad. It was as he had feared. Alicia stood by the square hole in reality that was the door out of the field room, and a few steps behind, in the door itself, stood Lex.
“A little while now,” Alicia said, her face was as carefully neutral as Michael had ever seen it.
“We came in at the start of your last bout, just about.” Lex added.
“Yeah. At first we didn’t want to interrupt y’alls training and then… things got interesting and there was no way I was stepping out into that.”
Michael blushed a fluorescent pink, the burning sensation in his ears made him briefly wonder if one of the fiery empedoclings had made camp there. “Interesting, huh?” He asked at last.
“Yeah,” It was harder to see on Alicia, but she was definitely blushing. “I don’t mind seeing pretty boys kiss.”
“Hah!” Lex exclaimed. “I knew you had a bit of Rotten Girl in you!”
“Rotten girl?”
“Oh,” It was Lex’ turn to blush, a redness that spread from their cheeks to their ears in a pattern Michael was starting to recognize. . “It’s a… Japanese expression. Didn’t know that was what it translated to. It’s… uh… fans of homosexual media- Girl ones, usually.”
“Ah yeah, with the very pretty boys and the paddles and all of that?” Alicia said. “I guess I did run a bit with that crowd back in my younger days. I thought it was a comphet thing for the longest time.”
“How is getting hot and bothered by lads kissing dudes comphet?” Felipe asked, now at least partially back to his cocky self.
“It’s complicated,” Alicia said with a shrug.
“Wait, what’s comphet?” Michael asked, genuinely at least two or three questions out of the ongoing discussion.
“Compulsory Heterosexuality,” Felipe said. “I’ll tell you later, but let’s talk a little bit about how Alicia and Lex owes us a little display in return, huh?”
“Pig,” Alicia said, her voice briefly harsh for the rebuke before softening notably for her next pair of words. “I mean, I don’t, uh… I’m not saying no. I don’t feel like it right now but I’m not saying no, you know? And if you’re nice I might let you watch, it’s only fair, right?”
Lex clapped their hands, a sharp, attention-grabber of a sound. “Alright, that settles it. It’s time to have A Talk.”
“The Talk?” Felipe asked, glib as ever.
“Shush, bottom. Not that Talk,” Lex chided. “We’re going to have a talk about what we’re doing here, and we’re going to be frank and un-ironic about it.”
“Hi Frank, I’m Michael,” Michael said, unable to resist the dad joke material that Lex had so expertly laid out.
“Ha ha, very funny Mr. Offense, let’s go. To the Exalted Room let’s go let’s go.” Lex started shooing people out the door with the expedience and proficiency of a kindergarten teacher, or perhaps a slightly too gentle livestock herding hound.
Once they were all properly herded into the living room they had come to think of as theirs, Lex wasted no time in the sharply professional mood that had apparently possessed them.
“Alright alright alright. Does anyone want coffee?”
“Simulacra or real?” Michael asked.
“Simuacra, but it’s my own spell so it’ll taste a bit different.”
“Yeah alright, hit me.” Michael said amidst a mumble of declines and no thank yous.
“Brave man, I can respect that.” Lex gestured in the air, leaving a trail of glowing purple energy that shaped and molded and folded itself until a white ceramic mug filled with a dark liquid emerged from the chaos. Lex grabbed the cup and handed it to Michael. “There you go big boy.” Lex’ usual tone of flirtatious energy returned for a brief moment before the brisk bureaucratic manner overtook her.
The liquid smelled a lot like coffee, although there was an earthiness to it that made Michael think Lex had been unable to keep the association between ground coffee and dirt entirely out of their mind when casting the spell. A sip betrayed no dirt-like taste, but there was an odd sweetness to the taste that made Michael think about alcohol. The secret logics of magic, it seemed, evaded him yet another day.
“So, everybody,” Lex said, again clapping their hands for emphasis. “I feel like we’ve gotten to know each other rather well this last… what, week and a half?” Sounds of nonspecific but generally supportive agreement sounded, Michael wasn’t quite sure but it sounded right enough. “And you all have come to know me, I’m a bit silly, a bit serious,” They lowered their voice to a clear stage whisper “a lot horny…” this elicited a giggle from Felipe and a quirked eyebrow from Michael and Alicia. “Anyway, I’m all about, uh, open communication when it comes to… uh, bumping uglies in general, and so I’ve decided to just come out and say this thing I’m noticing, so we maybe can get out ahead of a whole lot of drama.”
Lex cleared their throat. The businesslike demeanor wasn’t all that was different, Michael realized. They seemed vulnerable in a way Michael hadn’t really seen them before. It wasn’t that the short physicist was inauthentic when they were slinging sex jokes or anything, it was just showing that they had the capability of doing things a different way. Lex could, Michael understood, be serious if the matter called for a serious tone, but they weren’t beholden to it.
“I feel like we’re in a place, in our relationships, where we should consider forming a polycule, or some other form of open multi-partner relationship.”
“A polycule?” Michael asked, he wasn’t outraged as much as he was mildly baffled.
“Or something like it, yes. By my very unprofessional estimates it seems like most of us are a hair’s breadth away from having sex with any other Exalted Hero, and that’s the kind of thing that can devolve into jealousy so so fast.” Lex said, despite their frank tone, there was a blush to their cheeks and ears that made it clear this wasn’t quite as easy for them as it seemed. “And I can’t speak for any of you obviously, but I care immensely for and or want to peg all of you.”
“And they say romance is dead,” Felipe said, a low-key jeer as far as Felipe went, but Alicia all the same found it fit to elbow him in the ribs. “Ow, settle down crazy.”
“I’ve been thinking about this stuff a bit myself,” Alicia said, as if Felipe hadn’t just said anything. “I’m not… super familiar with that kind of relationship myself, but I’m willing to learn. Only…”
“Hm?” Lex asked
“Is, uh, would one be limited to partners only within the… group, I guess?”
“I mean that’s a, uh, I hate the word but it works, so, rule, we’d have to discuss. Why, do you have someone in particular in mind.”
“I might have, what is it to you?”
“Oh, I’m just making conversation. Anyway, what do you guys think about this whole… possible arrangement?” Lex asked.
Felipe shrugged. “There’s as much Felipe to give as there are takers to take, as I always say.”
“Right. Fuckboy. Not really the person I was worried about. Michael?”
“I’m not super familiar with this kind of thing either,” Michael said, feeling a ponderous sort of doubt over the whole thing. “But I, uh, am positive to the idea. How would we go, uh, about things?”
“I mean we don’t have to make a huge thing about it,” Lex said. “We’d just share the idea that we’re very close and will on occasion have fun together, in pairs or groups depending on what we feel like. I mean that’s one way to do it at any way. It’s what I’d suggest anyway. If anything comes up, like someone’s feeling unloved or like they’re third wheeling it, we talk it out like adults when all the relevant parties are present.”
“Sounds simple,” Michael said. “Perhaps a little too good to be true?”
“Perhaps,” Lex said with a shrug, “but I think it’s a good thing to aim for if we’re trying to go for this kind of thing.”
Michael took all of this in. There were parts of him that told him to cut and run, that this whole business wasn’t proper. There also was the part of him that noted that he was pretty excited about making Felipe produce sounds of mild but manageable discomfort, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to at least kiss Lex and Alicia too. As for jealousy? He was pretty sure he could handle his side of it. It was a strange thing Lex suggested, but considering they were stuck in a city full of magical beings perched on the edge of said magical beings’ second apocalypse, maybe being a bit strange was the best, maybe even the only, answer to that there was.
“Right, I’m in,” Michael said. “I still feel a bit weird about this whole thing if I’m honest, but if you guys are willing to let me puzzle out my feelings about this, I don’t see why I shouldn’t give it a shot, right?”
“Alright, protestant-boy is in, hell yeah.” Felipe exclaimed.
Michael found himself grabbing Felipe by the scruff of his shirt. “Alright hotshot, you owe me an explanation.”
“Oh I owe you more than that,”
“Do you now?”
There were many more things that could and would be said, but not right now. Michael was happy. He had a strange new relationship to explore, and he would love nothing more than explore it. Unfortunately, fate had other plans.
The doors slammed open just as the newly-minted polycule got comfortable, and Eltern stormed through it, not even pausing to note the levels of semi-undress at display. “Exalted, it’s terrible. The Sword of Lakes have been stolen!”
Author’s Note: This chapter really wanted to be written, in that it haunted my brainmeats until I got around to actually pounding keyboard about it. It’s also a bit longer than usual. I was thinking about splitting this into two chapters, but I felt like I hit a nice stride and figured it could fit into a slightly longer one. I’d probably get a bit more into the nonspecific good times near the end there if I split it, but I felt that having both the Felipe-Michael Fight + makeout and a poly celebratory cuddle (++) pile in one chapter was a bit much. We’ll get to that in the future I’m sure. For now, we are officially entering the third act, which is very exciting. I love a good ending, and while it’s probably going to come in some notches south of a “happy” ending, it IS going to be a good one.