Benedict watches after him for a moment, then turns around to go back up the stairs, trying to be as poised about it as possible for someone whose ass hurts.
He'll see Colin standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed and a smile on his face. He gestures into the room with his head.
Seeming a little smaller as he comes in, Bene ducks his head slightly to rub the back of his neck, as if he's afraid to look Colin in the eye just now. Going forward into the room, he flops stomach-down onto a couple of pillows.
"Did I really?" he asks, and he's not being coy: it sounds like he actually means it.
Colin closes the door and sits down by him. "Of course. This isn't all just punishment for doing bad things. It's also rewarding for doing good things. And you took the spanking without com--without whining, then gave a sincere apology to Edgard."
Accepting the hose with one hand, Benedict takes the opportunity to finally rub his backside with the other, wincing.
"It wasn't that bad," he half-lies, but his sheepish smile betrays him. "...the way you were looking at me after he left, I was afraid I'd come back to a second round."
"Poor thing," Bene mocks, and takes a long pull, sinking down further onto the cushions as he exhales.
"I mean. ...yes and no." His cheek mushes into the pillow as he talks, lounging splayed across the pile like a lazy cat.
"I didn't like it, it hurt. But I also sort of..." He blushes, "...thought about how upset you'd be, if I didn't do what you said. Not that you have to hit anyone for that, but."
He shifts position again, clearly struggling to get comfortable.
"Well we need to have a code of conduct. Set rules for us both defining what sort of thing is and isn't something that can be punished this way. If we could just...make it so I can't...do it the wrong way."
"Oh." Colin blinks. "Maybe like...being rude. That's something you want me to spank you for. But if you just make me angry, I can't spank you then, not just because I'm angry at you."
"Oh." He takes another pull from the hose and blows it out gently, thinking. It's an increasingly awkward conversation, and part of him wants to pull back on it-- this isn't something normal people talk about, right?-- but then, he has done nothing but prove recently that he hasn't reached Normal yet.
"That makes sense," he says mildly, watching Colin as he follows this train of thought.
That look of discomfort gives Colin pause. Stepping back into their confessions, he tries to think of what he's afraid of.
I'm afraid he won't know the difference between this and abuse. I'm afraid he'll be abused in the future.
A deep breath.
"All right. Forget that. There's only going to be one rule: if anything I do makes you feel the way your mother made you feel, you use that word. You don't have to explain, you don't even have to understand why you feel that way. Deal?"
That seems simple enough. Benedict nods, smiling faintly-- the mere idea that Colin could remind him of his mother is... well, that's why he and Colin are close in the first place.
Something eases in Colin's chest, and he's not sure how to describe it. It's the kind of ease he feels around Athessa or Lexie, a security, yet a small, fluttering fear rises up in response. He scoots closer to cuddle with Bene, though their positions are very awkward. The cuddliness is partly a result of the elfroot, but that feeling is deeper. Something has changed, and it's been long in coming, a reversal of something that kept him from trusting--
Oh. It's trust.
It's why he got someone to come in to create a new wardrobe for Bene. It's why he was so determined to find something on the long-term effects of magebane. It's why he has made both himself and Bene uncomfortable by...not smothering, but something like it. He didn't trust Bene to manage his own affairs, get his own life on track, adapt to his new situation. He wasn't willing to stand back and watch him either sink or swim on his own power. He can't even think of a time other than now when Bene asked for his help.
"For thinking you needed me. You don't. I think I needed you more." Still oddly touchy-feely from the elfroot, he finds himself tracing the slope of Bene's shoulder with his fingers. "Now we don't need each other. I don't have to always be strong for you, you don't always have to...whatever it was. I think we can just be ourselves around each other and stop being afraid of all the things we talked about. Just...be friends. I won't interfere in any way you don't ask me for. You're more than capable of sorting things out for yourself, and asking for help when you need it. And not necessarily from me."
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“He’s Sunbeam’s Maman.” He says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
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"All right," he concedes, and sounds rather relieved. Then he starts to turn back, his mind shifting gears entirely.
...and then he turns toward Edgard again.
"You know," he says, with more confusion than malice, "...if you're that sensitive about it, why don't you just clean yourself more?"
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“I just—don’t seem to be fitting in very well.” He waves his hand like he’s swatting the thought away and turns to go.
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At that, Benedict actually seems to feel a shred of remorse.
"Well it's-- I was just--" He fights with the words for a moment, then sighs. "...I panicked. I said it just to hurt you. So you'd leave."
It hasn't been one of his prouder days, on the whole.
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"Excuses acceptées" He says in Orlesian. "Be nice to Maman."
And heads down the stairs.
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Benedict watches after him for a moment, then turns around to go back up the stairs, trying to be as poised about it as possible for someone whose ass hurts.
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"I lit the hookah," he says. "You earned it."
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"Did I really?" he asks, and he's not being coy: it sounds like he actually means it.
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He takes a hose and passes it to Bene.
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"It wasn't that bad," he half-lies, but his sheepish smile betrays him. "...the way you were looking at me after he left, I was afraid I'd come back to a second round."
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"Not sure if that would've been a good idea," he says, "but I'm glad I didn't have to decide."
He takes a hose with his left hand and takes a long, slow drag.
"You really want this?" he asks, smoke puffing from his mouth.
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"I mean. ...yes and no." His cheek mushes into the pillow as he talks, lounging splayed across the pile like a lazy cat.
"I didn't like it, it hurt. But I also sort of..." He blushes, "...thought about how upset you'd be, if I didn't do what you said. Not that you have to hit anyone for that, but."
He shifts position again, clearly struggling to get comfortable.
"...I mean, it's a bit hard to forget about."
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"I'd want a lot of rules," he says. "For me. I'm scared I'd hurt you and you'd not say anything because you'd think you deserved it."
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"I'm being stupid again, aren't I?"
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"That makes sense," he says mildly, watching Colin as he follows this train of thought.
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I'm afraid he won't know the difference between this and abuse. I'm afraid he'll be abused in the future.
A deep breath.
"All right. Forget that. There's only going to be one rule: if anything I do makes you feel the way your mother made you feel, you use that word. You don't have to explain, you don't even have to understand why you feel that way. Deal?"
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"Deal."
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Oh. It's trust.
It's why he got someone to come in to create a new wardrobe for Bene. It's why he was so determined to find something on the long-term effects of magebane. It's why he has made both himself and Bene uncomfortable by...not smothering, but something like it. He didn't trust Bene to manage his own affairs, get his own life on track, adapt to his new situation. He wasn't willing to stand back and watch him either sink or swim on his own power. He can't even think of a time other than now when Bene asked for his help.
"I'm sorry," he whispers without giving context.
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"Mm?" He grunts pleasantly through the smoky haze, glancing Colin's way.
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