bakerstreet | The Lyrics Meme!

And as they sat on yonder hill
His heart grew hard, so harder still
He has two hearts instead of one
She says, young man what have you done

How foolish, foolish you must be
To think I loved no one but thee
This world's not made for one alone
I take delight in every home

"Hell hath no pathos like a faery scorned."

Reynard walked up behind Robin and slid both arms around him, propping his chin on his shoulder.

"What now, fairest, my most wondrous one?"

"Hell hath no pathos at all, so no use butchering poor Shakespeare to pay them an undeserved compliment."

Robin heaved a sigh, leaning back slightly against Reynard. He ran a tired hand over his face and shook his head a little.

"I haven't been scorned, honeytongue. I was just thinking on what a fucking asshole I am."

There is an unspoken 'again' in that statement.

"I'm sure hell would...hath a lot of pathos, should the concept exist as such, seeing how it's supposed to be full of sinners self-pitying, which, alas, seems surprisingly close to your dilemma here."

Reynard kissed his neck just below his ear, nuzzling it to make sure to share his scent. "What made you think of that, my sweet Puck?" Since they were butchering Shakespeare.

"Very observant, my lovely."

When Robin threw a pity-party, he knew that's what he was doing. In truth, he hadn't intended to subject Reynard to this moment of sentimentality, but things don't always go as planned.

"I'm thinking about it because I recently came into possession of an extra heart, so to speak."

And most people, even if they think they do, have no idea what they're doing when they hand over their heart to Puck.

"I'm known to be, when I care for it."

Reynard ran his fingers through Robin's hair, just fine with being cuddly and offering physical comfort together with his snark.

"Is that so? And now you don't want to break and shatter and tear it to pieces, burn it, scatter the ashes, dance on the remains?" He smiled and let one hand rest over the faery's heart, using his palm and some pressure to pull him back against himself.

"Your heart beats as always, so at least you've not lost that. There'd be a worry, I don't want to live through that drama again." Because clearly this was all about him.

Clearly. Robin lets out a frustrated huff that ends in a sort of half growl.

"Why do I bother with you, I wonder."

But one of his own hand comes to rest on top of Reynard's. And yes, he too is glad that his heart is still where it should be.

"And you shouldn't scoff so at the 'drama', without it I'd never have become a puck, and most of the time I think you prefer Robin to Bran."

And if that ever causes him pain, he'd never show it.

"Because, for one thing, sometimes you'd like to be as I am and sometimes you're just glad to not be like I am and overall you can't help but be charmed and lured and thrilled by what I am and who I am."

Reynard kissed his neck, his jaw, the hand in his hair used to make him turn his head so he could kiss his lips as well. He caught Robin's eyes and smiled. "Bran, my fairest, and Robin, most wondrous, how can I help but love you completely? You underestimate how varied my taste is. I like blood and I like honey." He lowered his lips, for intimacy's sake. "Now tell me your tale, fairest, so I can make you smile again."

"Guess that sums it up pretty neatly."

He turned to face Reynard fully, cradling the fox's head in his hands.

"And if you really do love me, I guess I have to pity you too." He has his dounts regarding whether or not Reynard actually knows what love is, but he keeps them to himself. It's not like he's an expert by any stretch of the imagination, and Rey knows him well enough to have better grounds for making such a claim than most other people.

"As for my tale... there isn't much of one. There is a girl who thinks she loves me. And I care rather a lot about her in return. But she is young, and human, and thinks she understands what I am better than she does.

It's not like I am suddenly going to give what I do. I'll still be a child-stealing bastard.

Not to mention there is a certain fox who likes staking a claim on me whenever I run into him. And he's not the only one.

I just keep walking into this stupidity because I'm a sentimental old idiot who can learn much, but apparently not that."

"Eh, of all the things I do deserve, pity certainly isn't it." Reynard leaned his head into the touch of his hands, always loving to be petted. "You may sympathize at times, if you care enough, but that will be plenty. Asides, my love for you is not like a little girl's. I do know your flaws, I share quite a few, I do know your story and you won't be breaking my heart, no matter what you try."

Reynard leaned his forehead against Robin's and smiled, his fingers idly caressing his neck. "So your girl will cry and cry and curse you and herself. And she will learn and grow from it, because I doubt she fragile enough to break, you don't play with that. She'll still be beautiful, I know what you go after, and she'll know better than to think she understands what can't be understood by her. She's human, you say, and humans change and humans learn, much better than your kind, much better than me."

Reynard smiled wryly and reached up to tug on a strand of his hair. "As you're making obvious. Sentimental old idiot. My fairest Bran, be sad, but know she'll get over you." He kissed his lips and grinned. "I couldn't, of course, but you're much more special to me."

That last bit pulled one of his genuine, bright laughs out of him. It was an almost musical sound.

"Oh, you," and he kissed Reynard in turn with fierce affection that had stood the test of centuries. "I don't think you ever learn at all. And I am no little girl either, much as I may sulk like one when I get into my moods, so no need to try to blow such sweetly smelling smoke up my ass. You'd get over me just fine, lovely."

Reynard smiled widely, genuinely pleased at having broken through his pathos. He kissed back so deeply he could smile no more, but the smile returned as soon as Puck broke away.

"Perhaps, mayhap, who knows, who cares, but I do know it won't be easy and I rather hope it will not happen. I'll just have to be careful not to bore you, hm? Or how would I lose your affections, my most wondrous? You have to say, so a fox can be cautious."

"If you have not lost them yet, I doubt you ever will."

And that was a truth, if ever Puck had spoken one.

"You're too clever and distracting a creature for your own good. And you know it, too."

"Oh, fairest, don't you say such things without a warning. I fear my heart might all but burst and I'm about to swoon into your arms." Reynard kissed the corner of his mouth, then suddenly sucked his lower lip between his teeth and gave it a nip.

"I must know, because if I didn't know, I'd have to be less clever and that'd be less appealing, much less distracting and you'd just go with everyone else and have no care for me. Tell me, my most wondrous, who else is it that stakes a claim on you?"

Oh, he hadn't forgotten about that detail.

That last comment startled him somewhat, and he gave him a look of pure 'I can't believe you just said that' that was straight from the earliest days of their dance.

"Oh, I know that was not jealousy I just heard."

"You do know that? Good, good, my fairest, because I'm not quite that sure." Reynard kissed along his jaw while repeating his question. "So who, tell me, who? Who dares? Who does? And do you like them more than me? Come on, here is the dagger, now plunge it into my heart."

Reynard, ought to be careful, he was ruffling his raven's feathers rather badly at the moment. It was almost as if you could feel invisible hackles rise. Just a subtle shift in his posture, a tensing of his shoulders.

"Oh, you had better be joking right now. Who dares? Do you think then, that you're the only one who can catch the scent of another on your lover?"

And with that he shoved Reynard away a bit so he could get some distance between them.

"You have as great a claim on me as I have on you, no less, but certainly no more."

"Shh, fairest." Reynard ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. "It'd be news to me that ever you did claim, that ever you did care and you know exactly how it is with me. Besides, I am not saying be with me and none but me, but I am certainly not running around letting anyone claim me in whatever way, so you see the case is quite different and thus I deserve to know, at least, who your favorite is."

No, Reynard probably didn't deserve all the pent up rage and frustration that was making Robin's already dark eyes glitter like onyx. But he is not good with these things, not at all. Haven't been for thousands of years now.
"Do you think that anyone. Anyone..."
He shakes his head, lost for words. "Do you think it even bothers me with anyone else?"

To Robin's great misfortune, that passion, be it rage or love or this amazing mixture, it all just served to be arousing and thrilling. He ran his knuckles along the side of Robin's face and tilted his head to the side just the littlest bit.

"Am I that special, then, sweet Puck?" Reynard took a step closer, blue eyes meeting the dark glare. "That it gets to you so much, my Bran, my fairest?"

Oh, definitely a mixture, as it would always be. With Reynard he could never quite managed the Puck persona indefinitely, and sooner or later the shell would crack and there would be Bran, burning bright as a flame. His hands were already reaching for Reynard, pulling him close and still staring into his eyes like he thought he could drop his lover dead with just a look.
"See what you turn me into. Is that special enough for you, Reynard? Does it give you satisfaction to know that some days I would gladly kill every single one who has ever touched you? Is that what you want to hear me say?"

"Mhmm, I want to hear you say many a thing, my most wondrous one, no, my fairest Bran..." Reynard smiled as he was glared at, as if he didn't even see or - more likely - as if he was just so used to smiling in response to such rage.

"It'd give you quite a lot to do, though, if you went through with it." He chuckled and kissed him softly, for him, sweetly on the lips. "Then I'll be happy that I am special and that no one else can lay claim."

"You could look a bit less smug about it."
And he kisses Reynard back, fiercer, angrier. He can't be sweet right now, he's too frustrated. So a rough kiss it is as he bunches up the fabric of the fox's clothing, pressing the trickster up against his tall, lean frame.

"I could, without a doubt, but I thought you didn't like me play-acting around you."

Reynard kissed back fiercely and his eyes closed. He wasn't shorter than his Robin by much, just enough that it was easier to pull himself up on the fae's shoulders, at least if he wanted to kiss on the same level. As his eyes shut and his other senses sharpened further, he made a sound at the back of his throat, needy and wanting.

Edited (cause it was ugly) 2012-03-08 16:46 (UTC)

Oh, oh his Reynard. His right now and fuck everything else. Blindly, almost stumbling a little he backed up against a wall, at first leaning against it and then turning to press Reynard against it instead. His hands roamed over the other man's body, greedy and almost frantic, and he never stopped kissing his lover.

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