Vacillation (1x1 Mamoru and Avery)

Trust... Edmund didn't know if he trusted Oliver, only even thought that he loved him. But he knew he wanted Oliver, enough to be masochistically honest. That Edmund wasn't reproached or repudiated upon confession, was instead met with affection, it was relieving beyond belief. He was overwhelmed by Oliver's ebullience, charmed by his touch. The very effulgence of his smile was enough to melt any reservation Edmund held.

Impulsive, almost desperate, he pulled Oliver into an embrace, wrapped his arms around Oliver's shoulders, and held him as tight as he dared. Edmund needed it, needed him close. And perhaps, wanted to hide his face. He must have looked dumb, so ineffably happy. Edmund couldn't remember smiling like he was since... since ever really. He must have looked half his age, if not younger, with how unrestrained his expression was. Happy, relieved, hopeful. He could almost cry.

"I'm so sorry." Edmund eventually breathe near Oliver's ear. "I'm so sorry for how I've acted." Even if what was done had brought them here. "I've been so unfair to you. I don't know what I've done to ever deserve your affections."
 
The embrace wasn't expected but wasn't unwelcome. Immediately after Edmund's arms wrapped around him, his own did the same, keeping him close, relishing in his warmth and his contact. He didn't want mindless intimacy without some sort of understanding between them, without some sort of personal exchanges of each other's lives. Oliver's life had to be mostly public, Edmund had the privledge of chosing to be secluded and private in his own past and personal affairs. To finally have more understanding of Edmund's past.. it felt so nice.

"If I truly loathed you and resented everything you did, I wouldn't be trying so hard to keep you in my life." Oliver replied, kissing his temple. "You've been a better person to me than anyone else, even if you get into trouble and got yourself punched in the face," He let out a small laugh, resting his head upon the crook of Edmund's neck.
 
Oliver had been going out of his way for Edmund. It was a fact Edmund didn't like acknowledging. It made him feel guilty, and indebted, both of which he rarely felt towards anyone other than Oliver. By comparison, things were cold and clear with other people. Everything had its proper price and recompense. A favor for a favor. No generosity. No altruism. Nothing that couldn't be severed upon equal returns. Edmund could only hope his company was enough to show gratitude for everything Oliver did in his interest. Because Edmund's character was incorrigible, and likely only to change marginally at best.

"I did get punched in the face." Edmund affirmed ruefully. It had been so sudden and unexpected that He hadn't even registered the blow as painful. The after effects, however. "I'd ask you to kiss it better, but honestly, even a slight touch feels like blunt stabbing." It was why Edmund didn't press his face closer to Oliver despite wanting to. Feeling the embrace reciprocated, Edmund loosened his hold some, less constricting.

"I'm not looking forward to those women being in my life." Edmund confessed. "But if it means I've greater chances of being with you, as we are now, then it's a compromise I'm willing to make. Perhaps they will make better relatives than the ones I grew up with."
 
Now that the issue was pretty much settled, Oliver felt much lighter. No longer did it feel like he had to worry about if it was ok or the right choice to be pursuing such a risky and dangerous relationship with Edmund. The wors shared between them erased all his doubts and confirmed his faiths within each other and especially Edmund. Oliver practically melted against Edmund, comfortable and soothed in his embrace.

"Lady Geneva is a considerate woman, and I have no doubt she will do you any disservice or harm. Theo... well, she's already done some damage. But I doubt that something as drastic as that will happen again." Oliver replied, his fingers drawing absent minded patterns along the fabric of his shirt and back.
 
"I wouldn't hold my breath." Edmund said doubtfully, though in truth he believed any disagreements between himself and Theo, from then on, were unlikely to come to blows. In general, they had a common goal. And being the man closest to her lady's husband was sure to afford Edmund some flexibility. Theo wouldn't want to risk souring the marriage because Edmund irritably made a crass comment, no? He wasn't going to test that theory any time soon though. Edmund was in enough pain.

And though he and Oliver had reconciled, illuminated secrets, and bonded ever closer, there was something still pressing on Edmund's mind. Something he wasn't ready to discuss just yet. The time would come, but not now. The atmosphere was auspicious, both he and Oliver receptive to each other. But Oliver's seasickness came and went capriciously, Edmund's face was still tender, and there was still a subtle fatigue from the events at the wedding. The matter could wait.

"You'll need to make a proper proposal." He thought aloud, letting a hand wander aimlessly along Oliver's shoulders and the back of his neck. "I hate to think what theme they'll have for the party. And if Marta tries to insist on the staff wearing something exotic or pastel, so help me, I will purposely ruin the laundry myself."
 
Oliver had almost completely forgotten about the proposal he had to do. While he and Geneva knew they were getting married and that it would happen with most certainty, the people of his kingdom and of Geneva's own didn't know anything more that perhaps quiet rumor that was spread for mostly entertainment. Geneva and Theo were arriving at his estate within a week after Edmund and his own's arrival back, giving him some time to plan it out in a manner that is extravagant and just what the people wanted to help squash most of the rumors surrounding his possible homosexuality.

"Thanks for the reminder," He mumbled. He'd really have to plan this out. And it wasn't just this -- he'd have to coordinate and dictate the wedding as well. He would have help from Geneva, but even so, he ended up with ultimate power as King. "If worse comes to worse with Marta, feel free to wreck havoc upon her to the best of your abilities. I don't need something to go wrong when it's supposed to go right."
 
"It'd be my pleasure." Wicked delight colored his every word. Upon being appointed to his current position, Oliver had explicitly told Edmund not to gloat or overextend his new authority. Now, with Oliver's caution engendering some leniency, Edmund was more than happy to repay a few debts before the proposal. He was particularly resentful of the staff, and petty enough to take advantage of what privileges his position granted. And that reminded him.

"I got some cards from one of the crew." Edmund explained suddenly, a euphemistic way of saying he had pilfered them from the common quarters. He pulled away from their embrace to rummage his pockets. Eventually, he produced the mentioned stack of cards, choke-bound with a bit of twine. "I thought we could play a few rounds, the winner of each round can make one request of the loser. Could be anything from answering a question to small acts. Nothing particularly base though. Wouldn't want you balking over cutting me again, no?" Edmund jest, hoping to make light of what had already passed.

"What do you say? I could teach you to play cutpurse. It's mostly a bar game for quick money, but it's more aleatory than skill based. Quick rounds, easy to catch on to." Edmund hoped that, within that gambling context, he could get Oliver to open up a little and ask things of him without feeling he was exerting royal authority. Too easily did their roles come between them.
 
Knowing Edmund, the deck of cards he had gotten were more than likely not borrowed in light hearted, friendly spirit but more like downright swiped from right under the crew's noses. That fact didn't really bother Oliver that much at this point. It was how he got the wine that aided his sea sickness a few days before, and so far, it didn't seem like he was keen or interested or even had stolen anything of grand importance, to either himself or anyone else on the ship or back at the estate. He was willing to not pursue a useless punishment for something he knew didn't really need one.

The game sounded interesting. He'd never played cards before in his life; it wasn't really a past time for those of higher class and social ranking. He'd seen cards before and that was roughly the extent of his knowledge. "Cutpurse?" He repeated. Edmund made it sound pretty easy to grasp and understand, so why not test his luck and see how it went. Plus, it'd be an interesting past time for both.

"Let's play, then. Teach me the rules," Oliver continued, looking down at the cards in Edmund's hand, clearly curious and interested in what was in store.
 
"All right then." Edmund began, unbinding the cards. He shuffled them once and bridged them for a touch of flare. "As you may already be aware, there are four suits. Wands, cups, pentacles, and swords. Each suit has ten numbered cards, ace through ten, and four face cards. The faces are page, knight, queen, and king respectively. The numbered cards have a value equivalent to their number, and each face card is worth eleven. Unless, they're a pentacle or a sword. Pentacles are worth double their value, and swords are worth negative value. That's where the game got its name I suppose. Pentacles representing money, and swords are misfortune in divination and all that."

Edmund set the deck down and drew four cards to display on the mattress. The four of swords, two of pentacles, ace of wands, and the six of wands. "You get a hand of four cards," he explained. "The current value of this hand would be seven. Pretty shite. So you'd want to draw to swap out your poor cards for better ones. The thing is, you can never discard swords. Once you get them, you have them. Think of it as you can't get un-mugged. And you can only ever have four cards in your hand, so every time you draw you risk losing value. I'll show you."

Edmund drew a card, the six of cups, he then replaced the ace of wands with it and discarded the ace. "Now the hand's worth twelve." He drew again, the ace of cups. "This wouldn't add any value, so I'd just discard it immediately. Simple as that. But," he searched through the deck and pulled out the two of swords. "Suppose I drew this instead. I'd have to keep it and discard one of the non-sword cards." He discarded the two of pentacles, now having the two sword cards, and the six of cups and wands. "Now the hand's only worth six."

"There are some cases when swords are good, like if you have the three of every suit. But we'll keep it simple and forego those rules." Edmund reshuffled the deck. "I say we eschew turns too. Instead, we're each allowed three draws from the deck. Whoever has the best hand after that wins."

"Sound good?"
 
Oliver soaked in every word of Edmund's, doing his best to follow along. Numbers and basic math weren't anything new or foreign to Oliver, so that part was going to be the easy one. Simply getting used to the rules and what is the best coarse of action was all that was left. It seemed like a simple enough game on its own, it's rules pretty basic and easy to follow as long as you had basic knowledge of how to read cards and then, of course, the math involved. Good thing Oliver knew both.

After the brief explanation was concluded, Oliver looked down at the cards and deciphered them for himself quickly, just to make sure he was adding the numbers and all correctly so he knew what to base his knowledge off of for later. Since he was a beginner at this, of course there would be some room for error.

"I'm ready to get my ass kicked," Oliver replied in jest, a smile on his face as he looked up at Edmund.
 
"Nonsense." Edmund chided in good humor. He was intending to cheat after all, in Oliver's favor. The reason Edmund had decided to steal the deck in the first place, and what made him think up playing against Oliver, was that whoever owned the deck was a bastard. The edges of the major sword cards were shaved down, making them easy to find by thumbing the side of the deck. The rightful owner had cared more about their opponents losing than themselves winning. Edmund's kind of chap.

Roughly, Edmund scraped the demonstration hand back into the deck and shuffled, slightly different from before, making sure one of the major swords was near the top. He then dealt, four cards to Oliver first, then four to himself. He set the deck between them and checked his hand. The queen of swords was among them. A solid start.

Because Edmund was going to lose a few rounds on purpose. That was, unless Oliver had terrible luck. "Why don't you make your three draws first." he suggested. "Get your feet wet, yeah?"
 
Oliver picked up his cards following the shuffling and dealing of them, not noticing anything out of the peculiar, especially since he was unaccustom to card games and cards in general. He looked down at his hand, seeing an eight of pentacles, a two of wands, a three of cups and a two of swords. He was rather surprised at his luck with his first hand and he did a quick calculation.

19... He thinks, and feels a bit unsure of if he even did the math right, but continued on anyways. "Don't purposefully try to lose to make me feel better," Oliver chided playfully before making his first draw. An ace of swords. He discarded it immediately. In his second draw, he received another pentacle card, this time a two of pentacles. He discarded his two of wands, bringing his score up to 21. This was an awfully good start.

For his last draw, he drew a four of cups, and he traded that with the three of cups. Now done, he looked up at Edmund. "Your turn."
 
Watching, Edmund caught Oliver discarding the sword, and after his hand, plucked it out of the pile. "Accuse me of possibly throwing the match and here you are already cheating." He reproved teasingly. With the card slotted between two fingers, Edmund flicked it across to Oliver. "Misfortune stays." He reminded. "Keep it in your hand and drop a non-sword."

Edmund fingered three cards off the top of the deck and checked them to his hand. The queen of swords, the three of swords, the ace of cups, the two of cups, the ace of wands, the ten of wands, and the page of pentacles. He could have easily thrown the game with what he had been given, but it would have been conspicuous even to a tyro card player like Oliver. Because any combination of the low cards and swords would be negative. He was forced to keep the page of pentacles, and even then, he had to choose between a possible score of eighteen, ten, or nine.

Fuck. Edmund cursed tacitly to himself. With the max possible score in cutpurse being eighty-eight, ten and nine were pathetically small. And eighteen wasn't that high. There were only so many swords in the deck, so it was likely Oliver had somewhere in the twenties or thirties score wise. Edmund chose to keep the ten of wands. If Oliver, on a whim, went through the discard pile and saw that he'd tossed it in favor of an ace then he'd be onto Edmund's ploy from the start.

Tossing his three unused cards into the pile, Edmund then snapped his hand down for Oliver to see. "I've got eighteen. How about you, after adding that sword of course?"
 
Just as he was told, he took back the ace of swords. No big deal, it was merely one card. Now he had to decide which to replace. He chose to get rid of his four of cups. Now he had an ace of swords, a two of pentacles, an eight of pentacles and his two of swords. A quick calculation and he had 17 points. He didn't know exactly what was supposed to be a good score or a bad one, but 17 sounded like a damn high number to him. He merely had to find out later how things will go

Oliver frowned after Edmund's proclimation of his score. "I've got 17. You win," Oliver replied, guessing he might as well show his cards to prove it. Plus, the game was over anyways. He wasn't surprised he lost much at all. Forgetting the rule with the swords ruined things a bit.
 
Well... that wasn't- That went... Edmund was absolutely incredulous and had to steel his abdomen to keep from laughing. It would figure, no? The time he actually tried to lose, he won. The time he tried to do something nice, it went awry. Fate wouldn't even humor Edmund's attempt at generosity. No, crooked reaped what crooked sewed. That Oliver reciprocated Edmund's affections and didn't punish him for petty iniquity was the only leniency life would grant. Edmund supposed that was enough.

"I guess I do win." he agreed, slotting the cards back into a full deck. "And that means I get to make the first request." Something he hadn't intended, and hadn't really thought about. There were so many things Edmund wanted. Satiety wasn't in his nature, and so he didn't know where to begin. Something small, something simple, a soft start would be best.

"How about..." Edmund hummed a moment in thought, "You let me wear your signet ring for as long as we play cards."
 
Oliver was hoping for a more risky request, though, if he was going to be honest, he wasn't sure how he would define what was risky. Taking wine from the small kitchen of the ship and daring one another to finish the bottle by themselves? It sounded more interesting than simply hanging off his ring. Perhaps as the two of them would get into the hang of the game (Oliver especially) that the feel of more daring requests would naturally follow suit. Oliver slipped his ring off his finger and handed it off to Edmund.

"There you are. One ring, fit for a king." He joked with a smile. His hands felt just a tad bit lighter and a whole lot bare without the ring that normally sat upon his left middle finger. He'd have to get used to it, at least for the duration of the game. "How many games of this shall we play?" He asked, curious.
 
Or, more precisely, fit for Oliver, as Edmund was about to find out.

"We can play however many games you like." He replied, accepting the ring and giving it a cursory once-over. It was heavy, ornate and masculine in design, likely a piece passed down through the bloodline. Only the band ever altered with time. A precious heirloom toyed with and exchanged in a card game between... lovers? No, Edmund felt that was still too heavy. Significant others seemed better suited to them.

"I mean, we have to play until you win at least once." Edmund teased as he slipped the ring on his own left, middle finger. The act was so perfunctory, that it was only when he attempted to adjust it that Edmund discovered it was tight. A cold pinprick of panic cut through his stomach. Fuck. "Why don't you deal this time?" he suggested, trying to discreetly remove the ring. It wouldn't go back over the bend of his finger, the skin just kept bunching and tugging and, oh fuck, it was actually stuck.

Edmund's hands weren't much larger than Oliver's if at all. But they were warmer, and that was likely the factor at fault. He was going to have to stick his hand in cold water or... something. Regardless, he'd have to wait, fruitlessly and surreptitiously trying to twist it free in the meantime. His finger was gradually reddening from his efforts.
 
If Edmund thought Oliver would be unable to notice his struggle with the ring, he was damn wrong. Though, for a few minutes, Edmund almost had him fooled. But when he was told do deal, and then the not so discreet way of trying to tug off the ring, it wasn't so well hidden any longer. Oliver collected all the cards neatly back into one deck, sighing softly as he shook his head from side to side, smiling in amusement at Edmund's toil.

"You need any help?" He asked, looking up at Edmund with an entirely too amused expression on his face. He lazily shuffled the deck, mostly grabbing chunks from the back of the deck and then placing it to the front. "Don't want you to loose a finger."

Oliver placed the cards away, placed elsewhere on the bed. He scooted forward, towards Edmund, taking his hand into his own. He inspected the finger that was stuck with the ring. It was getting redder with all his forceful tugging. He looked around the room for anything that could possibly be used as some sort of lubricant to ease the ring off but the only thing they had was room temperature tea. "...Have any ideas on how to get this off?"
 
It was not funny. It was shameful, embarrassing, and Edmund hated knowing that he was the one to blame for putting himself in this situation. No one else was culpable, just Edmund and his dimwitted self. He even chose this, which made it sting all the more. And Oliver, that smile almost smug like prescience or pity, it made Edmund's face flush below the bruising and he didn't know if it was in shame, irritability, or attraction.

Edmund never accepted help with grace, least of all from Oliver. Because not only was it Edmund's job to look after Oliver's needs and not be a burden to him, but because Edmund wanted to be the one to care for Oliver. Not the other way around. To accept help from him felt like a stab to Edmund's pride and competence. But what else could he do other than accept? And wasn't this what Oliver wanted, a shift beyond their roles, towards equality?

Somewhat reluctantly, Edmund let Oliver take his hand. At least his finger didn't look like a choked sausage. The ring wasn't that ill-fitting. "I was honestly thinking about chewing it off when you had your head turned." He eventually quipped, his lips set in a tight, self-reproving smile. Maybe it was risible. Just a little. Edmund laughed succinctly at himself. "Maybe I'll just sweat it off. It'll get back to you in one piece." He tried to reassure. "Eventually."
 
"I'm not worried about the ring, Edmund. I'm worried about your finger staying in one piece," He continued to look over his finger, his smile eventually fading away. He tried turning it, seeing if he could wiggle it off. There was some success in doing that, but it would slowly inch off and eventually Oliver got impatient with trying. He looked around the room for anything other than that damn tea...

He had a brief thought of using his spit or something. Though as soon as he imagined it, it ended up being a lot more disgusting than he would've anticipated. As his eyes continued to roam, he found the door that led to a small bathroom, and he knew there had to be soap there. "Stay right here," Oliver instructed before heading off to the bathroom, rummaging around for soap.

He found bath salts, scented oils, and... there it was! Soap. It was a liquid soap solution, not necessarily his favorite as he simply preferred oils but he was glad to have it none the less. He took it and returned, glad to have found it.
 
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