Disclaimer: Anything you recognize, I do not own.
Part 9: Wave Over Wave
The sun's rays flowed through the window of Lumiale's bedroom, hitting Miguel's eyelids. With a groan, Miguel raised his head, eyes blinking against the intensity of the sun. Soft breathing coming from under him caught his attention. Lumiale was laying face up, still sleeping. Somehow, Miguel wasn't sure exactly how, he had ended up on top of Lumiale. They were both wearing their robes, so he prayed they didn't do anything else but sleep last night. Miguel always had a hard time remembering the night before right after he woke up. It took a few hours for everything to sink in.
Now, the skins of their chests were touching, clearly this was a compromising position. As quietly as possible, he moved off of the gentle Guardian. He wasn't successful as Lumiale stirred awake. The first thing Lumiale saw was Miguel's confused and panicked face.
"Please tell me we didn't do it," Miguel said. "I promised myself I wouldn't do anything compulsory."
Lumiale playfully patted Miguel's chest, "No, we were so tired we pretty much collapsed."
"Ah," Miguel said as he removed himself from Lumiale's person.
Lumiale turned his gaze to the window, disappointment on his face, "The rain is gone."
Miguel nodded, "And with it comes more heat."
Lumiale's assistant stared at the ceiling, "I wonder how much damage the hail did."
"Let's hope not much," Lumiale stood, pulling his robe closed, feeling modest. As Miguel scratched the back of his head, eyes turned away, Lumiale smiled at his friend, "Thank you for checking on me last night."
Miguel seemed surprised and he looked up. Seeing the slight tinge of pink in the water guardian's cheeks was just too...cute. He reached over and rested his hand on the small shoulder, "What are friends for, right?"
There was that damn smile again. That laughing smile that always caused Lumiale's heart to flutter. Friends. Of course. He couldn't help but worry about his and Clavis' deteriorating friendship. His worries weren't of himself, of course. Lumiale liked to consider himself a friend of everyone in the Sanctuary, with the exception of Oscar. But Clavis...Who else did he have? Randy, maybe. Luva, possibly. Zephel would be a stretch, but there was no one Lumiale could think of that Clavis would be willing to get close to. Heck, Clavis was hardly close to Lumiale, but they both had a good enough understanding of each other to be considered good friends. Now…all that friendship and companionship was in jeopardy.
"Hey," Lumiale snapped out of it when he heard a soft voice. Miguel was giving him a concerned look, "Everything alright?"
"Y-yes, I just spaced-out. Forgive me."
Miguel scoffed light-heartedly, "You are a horrible liar, but if you don't want to tell me the details you don't have to."
Lumiale placed a gentle hand on Miguel's. Emboldened, the former sailor swallowed and asked, "W-would it be alright if I-I kissed you?"
Blinking twice, Lumiale did a double take, not quite understanding how Miguel became so forth coming. Since Lumiale was technically Miguel's superior, it was he who usually initiated intimate contact…strictly out of protocol (even if it wasn't a protocol situation). Lumiale was now hopeful that this relationship was turning mutual and equal.
He gripped Miguel's hand, running his thumb gently over the strong knuckles, and gave him permission with a nod.
There was no hesitation, but Miguel wasn't rushed. He bent over and softly pressed his lips to Lumiale's cheek. He ended the soft kiss in an embrace, keeping Lumiale close in a secure hug. Lumiale could feel Miguel's stubble resting against his flawless skin, and the man's arms wrapped securely around him, trying to take his worries away. Lucky for Lumaile, Miguel succeeded in taking away all those troublesome thoughts.
Miguel changed back to his usual clothing, and followed Lumiale into the main parlor for a drink before he was off doing…whatever. Lumaile had taken some of the oranges Miguel picked days ago and made some fresh orange juice.
"Thanks," Miguel smiled taking a glass, "I'll probably head up to the roof and inspect if there's any major damage from the hail. Since the roof didn't cave in, I don't think I'll have much—"
He was interrupted by a knock on the door. Without missing a beat, Miguel dove behind the couch as if he was being shot at, creating a loud thud. Lumaile rolled his eyes and smiled at the over-exaggeration. He answered the door, and Olivie, without make-up, was on the other side.
"I'm sorry to bother you, Lumiale, but this is urgent. My roof has been destroyed by the hailstorm and I need assistance from Miguel, but he wasn't in his shack. Do you know where he is?"
Lumiale bit his lip for a mere second, but Olivie took notice of it.
"I haven't seen him around. But I will give him the message."
Olivie looked skeptical, "There's something going on isn't there. I thought I heard a man's voice…"
"I'm sure you're mistaken," Lumiale smiled, trying to play it off.
Olivie's thin eyebrow arched up. "Uh, huh, then why are you in a robe? You usually don't sleep this late."
Lumiale coughed, buying a little time to come up with something.
"I was up all night with Clavis. Because of the hail, I didn't get back until late."
It was a believable excuse, and it looked like Olivie bought it.
"Alright, give Miguel my message," he turned and left giving a casual wave.
"Will do!" Lumiale called back, returning the wave. Once he was sure Olivie was a safe distance away, he shut the door, pressing his back to it, letting out a sigh. Miguel, assuming it was safe, popped up from behind the couch.
"You're lucky Clavis likes you, otherwise no one would believe that story," he said.
"Yeah…" Lumiale said distantly.
"And can you believe Olivie? What because I'm Iberian, I automatically know how fix roofs. What a horrible stereotype!"
Lumiale smiled and shook his head, striding up to his friend and patted him on the shoulder, "I don't think he meant it that way. You were about to inspect my roof."
"Yeah," Miguel groaned, "but you're different…"
"For one thing, you confuse me sexually without making me uncomfortable. When I go to Olivie's I always get jumped, and not in the good way. I don't think he's attracted to me, he just knows it bothers me. He doesn't do that to Julious by any chance, does he? If so I would love to get a videotape of that and label it 'Sexual Harassment of Julious' and send it to Gandalf. He could use a laugh."
Lumiale chuckled, "You're confusing Olivie with Oscar."
"True," Miguel nodded, sitting down on the couch, "You know, for someone who flirts and harasses women, he sure isn't successful at winning their charms in the long-run."
Lumiale sighed, "That's because once they get to know him, they realize he lacks a certain subtlety that makes females more content and comfortable around him."
Miguel thought about it. Well, he himself was usually successful with women, but he certainly didn't see them as candy to try out the many different flavors like Oscar does. Now, Miguel could laugh at himself, he was with a man, but with Lumiale he found content and gentleness that he needed.
With a soft sigh, Miguel shrugged and headed to the front door, "Well, I'd better work on the drag queen's roof."
"Alright, be careful," Lumiale saw him off with a wave.
Over the next few days, Miguel worked with the contractors in repairing Olivie's shattered roof. The heat burned their skins and Miguel as well as several of the contractors were forced to take off their shirts, but that did little to quell the heat.
"Hey! Turn the radio up. I love Hootie!" Miguel called to one of the contractors laying shingles. The radio was right beside him and the man laughed and turned the radio up.
As the music was playing Miguel, with the help of Zephel (surprisingly), was nailing some shingles on the roof. Miguel began to get worried. He was feeling light-headed and drowsy, even though he should be wide-awake.
"Hey! You okay?"
Miguel looked over to the young mechanic, "Y-yeah… Are you sure you're okay with this?"
"Me? Sure, it gives me something to do. Luva says it will be a good way to vent my energy," Zephel eyed Lumiale's servant. The boy turned to recline on his back, pausing from his work," I haven't talked much to Lumiale lately. How is he?"
Miguel flinched, nervous that somehow Zephel knew about their relationship. The boy looked casual, like he had no clue, but still…
"He is the usual, I guess."
"What do you do for him?"
Miguel swallowed, "Oh, a few things. Trimming hedges, mowing lawns, the occasional fondling-Framing! I mean framing his canvases. I cut and build the frames and he stretches the canvas."
Zephel narrowed his eyes at the man. Why was he acting nervous? Could it be because of the heat?
"Speaking of which, have you inspected his roof yet?"
Miguel nodded, "Yeah I did, there's not much damage to his roof, thank god. Anyway, I should start working on the other side of the roof."
Miguel gathered his things and clipped on his tool belt and began to climb up to the other side.
"Your screwdriver," Zephel called.
"I did not!" Miguel responded defensively, mistaking what he had heard. Zephel raised an eyebrow and held out a screwdriver, "You forgot your screwdriver."
With a heavy breath, Lumiale lightly knocked on the large mahogany doors.
"Clavis?" he called through the doors, hoping his friend was on the other side. It was silent, but that was how the Guardian of Darkness usually liked it.
"I'm coming in, pardon the intrusion," Lumaile said politely, opening the doors.
Just as Lumiale expected, Clavis was at his desk, resting his head on his propped up hand, eyes on his crystal ball. However, for the life of Lumaile, he had never seen his friend so haggard, tired, and disturbed. It looked like he hadn't slept the whole week. Dark circles were under his bloodshot eyes and he had forgotten to shave and his stubble stood out against his pale skin. Mostly, Guardians kept themselves clean, cut, and immaculate, and some guardians, like Lumiale and Olivie, were thankful that they could not grow facial hair, and recently Randy had some trouble experiencing the plight of manhood and would appear at meetings with pieces of tissue bandaging the spots where he cut himself while shaving. Yet here was Clavis, who could be as clean-cut as the spotless Julious, looking rugged and weary.
"Clavis, I'm sorry for barging in like this. I just had to talk to you," Lumiale said softly.
Clavis' tired violet eyes turned to the blue-haired young man, but he didn't say anything. Lumiale had a mutual understanding with Clavis that his silence didn't necessarily mean a refusal.
"I think we should talk about what went on the last night I was here. I'm sorry if anything I said offended you-"
"Lumiale," Clavis' deep liquid voice interrupted him, "I am tired. Can't this wait?"
Normally, Lumiale would obey his older friend and sit silently in the corner and play a tune, but Lumiale felt hurt. Obviously what was said that night could not be ignored.
"No, I'm sorry this can't," this elicited a disapproving look from the tall dark haired man. Lumiale sucked in a deep breath, gathering up more courage to say what he had to say.
"To put it bluntly, Clavis, I think we are endangering our friendship. I feel that something is wrong and if it is because I have a friendship with one of my servants, then tell me and I'll…I'll figure something out. And if it's anything else that's bothering you please tell me. I only want to help."
Clavis was silent for a while, but it was apparent that he had heard everything that Lumiale said. With a gentle grunt, Clavis eased out of his chair, "Lumiale, you of all people know that I am a personal person. It is foolish of you to make my concerns your own. Why the sudden interest?"
"Because…well…it is a certain feeling I get. And your appearance. You look dog tired."
"Just had a few late nights. That's all," his long hand gestured towards the door. "Now if you please. I want to have a few moments to myself in the off chance the brown-haired boy wants to barge in for…conversation."
Lumiale couldn't help but smile, "He looks up to you."
"He does so in a noisy way. Please, leave."
"Shall I come over tonight?"
Clavis rested his head on his hand and sighed through his nose, "If you see it necessary."
For some reason, as Lumiale left to head back to his own mansion, he didn't feel any better about Clavis' situation.
Lumiale barely had time to lay his harp down once he returned home when there was a frantic knock at his door. Olivie was on the other side. Even though Olivie was hardly ever serious, the look on his face showed that something was wrong.
"Your manservant," he began, "Miguel collapsed."
A/N: Another chapter finally up. And the Hootie reference is the band Hootie and the Blowfish. Miguel is the type who would listen to them trust me. I always like feed back. Although I have an outline in mind, if there are any suggestions on where I should go with this please send them via review and maybe I can make a few alterations.