For Gamma, because Gamma, it is entirely your fault that I ship this, and there really isn't enough of them to go around.
Written for Gamma's Incestuous Challenge.
I cannot explain why Rodolphus thinks like a normal person and Rabastan thinks in a jumbled mess.
He lies in the bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering how the hell this even happened. His brother – his brother, oh God – lies next to him, spent in more ways than one, and Rodolphus contemplates how incredibly wrong this moment is. He can't, won't, sleep. They can't be found like this, after all, but still, he struggles to bring himself to leave. Rabastan looks unusually peaceful, for once.
This shouldn't have happened.
But it did and they can't take it back – and he's not sure he could bring himself to will it to unhappen, even if that were possible. He's wanted it – though he hasn't allowed himself to acknowledge that he's wanted it – for far too long to let go so easily.
But, oh, God, this shouldn't have happened. If anyone ever finds out...
They won't. They can't, because if anyone ever finds out they are ruined, both of them. It can't happen.
He slides reluctantly out of the bed, wincing as the chilly air hits him, and collects his clothes from around the room. He slips them back on, but then he glances briefly back at Rabastan, who even in his sleep has somehow managed to twist his expression into one that seems put out at Rodolphus' departure.
It very nearly stops him, thinking about what Rabastan will think when he wakes alone – he'll think you feel guilty, and you do, so what's wrong with that? But it will hurt him, and you hate that.
He wars with himself, but the logical part wins and he walks away, collapsing into his own bed, just as sleepless as before.
Rabastan wakes up alone as he normally does yet it feels like something's missing, and he remembers. He remembers the feeling of his lips and the skin-on-skin sensation that made him feel like he was on fire, and oh, God, what have we done? is accompanied by the fact that he desperately wants it to happen again.
It seems like a conflict but it's quickly evident that the latter argument is stronger, and that scares him just a little bit because it makes him feel a little out of control. Logic isn't winning, and that's scary but at the same time it's a rush and he can't seem to rein it in.
He collects and dons his clothing, marching out of the room with every intention of talking to his brother about this – really having a discussion, about why it happened and what happens now and where do they go from here?
None of that actually happens.
What actually happens is Rabastan freezes in the doorway of his brother's room and Rodolphus stands silently and strides over to him and they know it's wrong and it shouldn't have happened and it can't happen again and no one can know, but they know and they can't unknow and that's too much because he's there, right there – tooclosetooclosetooclose – and Rabastan just pushes himself up on his toes and kisses his brother fiercely and it starts all over again.
It's wrong, they know it's wrong, but it doesn't seem to matter what they know, because this isn't about knowing – it's about feeling.
It doesn't seem fair that something so wrong can feel this right.