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Part 4 of trust au
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2022-02-04
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Summary:

Scott’s basically lost all of his friends in a matter of weeks. He won’t talk to Katherine and Gem, his closest friends, and by association Pearl, seeing as she seems to be taking their side. fWhip is so far out of the question Scott doesn’t even consider him as an option, and he’s . . . never really been friends with anyone else.

But now he has three new allies, one of which he’s inordinately attached to.

So he considers it for a moment when Jimmy begins inviting him to supplemental alliance meetings.
~
Part 4 in my trust au!

Notes:

hello again!! Quick announcement before the fic: this series may take a bit of a break as I work on memorization for the play I’m in :) I’m meant to have 200 lines memorized by monday, so. yeah. I need to get a move on lol

cw: sensory overload, mentions of past abuse

(See the end of the work for other works inspired by this one.)

Work Text:

Katherine refuses to expel any members of the House Blossom alliance, no matter what Scott and Lizzie tell her about certain members’ treatment of Jimmy. She tells them to practice outside mediation, to keep the two parties uninvolved from each other, but to under no circumstances disrupt the peace that she’s achieved.

Scott’s fuming over this. He’s always felt that Katherine is too lenient in the name of peace, overlooks actual issues as long as none of them directly apply to her. He doesn’t withdraw from the alliance, though, as much as he wants to. His advisors actually threaten to lock him in a room for two weeks if he does it. They don’t need to worry, he won’t yet. The Overgrown is an insanely powerful ally, with beneficial trades. While it may satisfy him to break off their alliance, it would hurt his empires greatly, especially after his recent alliance loss with fWhip and Gem.

Not that Gem’s exactly not an ally. But after informing her of fWhip’s wrongdoings, she tried to talk him down and encourage the fact that fWhip doesn’t mean it when he does bad things, he’s just overly impulsive.

Scott storms out of the Crystal Cliffs in anger, and though he later writes to Gem to inform her that he is not cutting off their alliance, he does inform her that they are no longer friends and that their alliance is restricted to business only—trades may continue as planned, but any other business must be discussed at length to decide if they will remain upheld.

So, Scott’s basically lost all of his friends in a matter of weeks. He won’t talk to Katherine and Gem, his closest friends, and by association Pearl, seeing as she seems to be taking their side. fWhip is so far out of the question Scott doesn’t even consider him as an option, and he’s . . . never really been friends with anyone else.

But now he has three new allies, one of which he’s inordinately attached to, and he thinks it likely that he’ll gain a fourth soon. He hasn’t been able to reach out to Pixl quite yet, but now that Scott’s basically a member of the Cod Alliance (or the Codvengers? He’s not quite sure what they call themselves), he’s certain it’s only a matter of time.

He’s lonely, though, as much as he hates to admit it. He misses hanging out with Katherine and Gem, and he’s not sure how Lizzie and Joel will replace them. For one thing, Lizzie and Joel are still somewhat hostile toward him. For another, he’s not sure where he stands in the group. Do they even want to be friends with him?

Being so concerned with friends is stupid. He’s an immortal ruler, he’s been alive longer than any of them, been ruling longer than most of them. He should already be past seeking approval and connection. He isn’t, of course, but he should be. It’s a weakness, and he hates being weak, but he’s just not sure how to beat this one.

So he considers it for a moment when Jimmy begins inviting him to supplemental alliance meetings. A small postscript on the letter informs him that his attendance isn’t necessary or required, as these are more for fun and matters that don’t require an official meeting. Scott skips the first one, but when Jimmy specifically writes to him to say they missed him, Scott sighs and writes back to say he’ll be there next time. He needs to get out of the palace anyways, get his focus on something that isn’t protecting Jimmy.

He knew it was meant to be informal, but he didn’t realize just how informal it would be. In Rivendell, informal means that he doesn’t have to wear his official kingly robes and the meeting might be shorter than normal.

Informal here means sitting on Jimmy’s sofa or floor or armchair, sipping tea and spilling tea. Scott feels rather out of place in his stiff robes, his crown, his royal jewelry. The other three rulers are wearing what’s likely their most comfortable clothes. He’s fairly certain that Jimmy is in pajamas.

They don’t really talk to him much at that first supplemental meeting, but Jimmy occasionally asks him questions to try and include him in the conversation. Scott really feels as though he’s intruding, doesn’t even manage to quite laugh at any of the jokes told. After two long, uncomfortable hours, he leaves, resolved never to attend another one.

Jimmy catches him outside the cabin and pulls him into a warm hug, one that smells of freshly-turned soil and berries and vinegar. He thanks him for coming, invites him hopefully to next week’s meeting.

Scott turns up at the Codfather’s door precisely on time the next week, wearing his most casual clothing and prepared with a list of discussion topics in case the conversation winds down. He feels nervous, and out-of-place, and like he shouldn’t be here at all, but Jimmy smiles brightly when he opens the door and presents him the same mug he’d had last time, and Scott looks at the underside of the mug to see that his own name is scribbled on it.

This time, he makes an active attempt to engage in the conversation. He thinks Lizzie and Joel are warming to him, because they answer his questions and ask his opinion on the flowers they plan to have at their wedding. It’s more of a nicety than anything, seeing as they already have Katherine providing the flowers and she surely knows best, but Scott gives his honest opinion and recommends poppies, his favorite.

Jimmy beams at him every time he speaks, and Scott finds himself becoming more and more open. By the fourth meeting, he’s comfortable enough to laugh at Lizzie’s comment on Jimmy’s style choices, and by the sixth he can joke freely with them. He starts looking forward to these little meetings, brings tea of his own for the others to try, does fittings for a new set of comfort wear. And after each meeting, Jimmy hugs him and thanks him for coming, and Scott feels safe.

Not—well, that sounds weird. He feels secure, in the knowledge that Jimmy is safe and doing well enough to hug him. That, more than anything, is why he keeps attending the supplemental meetings. Every time Jimmy smiles, or tells a joke, or wiggles excitedly while he waits to share a story, Scott can’t help but feel all warm and reassured inside. It makes him happy to see Jimmy happy.

On the flip side, every time Jimmy grimaces with a readjustment in his seat, or stretches his arms out and winces, or glances anxiously out the window, Scott has to struggle to speak normally around the lump in his throat.

He knows he’s not the only one to notice this. He sees Joel’s dark looks of anger when Jimmy’s sleeves ride up to show a jagged scar on his right wrist; he sees Lizzie’s sad eyes when Jimmy’s laughter fades suddenly as he looks around at them, eyes scared as if he’ll be in trouble for laughing too loud.

Sometimes Lizzie sends him private messages in the middle of the night, letting him know she checked up on Jimmy to find him safe. He sends the same to her whenever he passes over the Cod Empire (which he does far more frequently than necessary). He still has sleepless nights, and judging by the hours she sends him messages, he assumes she does as well. It’s hard to sleep knowing that there are powerful people who have it out for Jimmy.

But they never bring it up to Jimmy, who Scott can slowly see changing. His anger is quickly lessening, his openness growing. Or maybe he’s not changing. Maybe Scott is just getting to know him.

Jimmy’s sense of humor vacillates between utterly endearing and self-deprecating. His stories meander and track into other stories before resolving the original thread. He likes the way Joel makes tea but not the way Lizzie makes it, and he likes Scott’s tea best of all. He picks at the scales on the backs of his hands when he’s fidgety, cleans under his nails with his sharp teeth when he’s listening intently. He shouts when he’s passionate (which Scott knew he did when angry, but was not aware occurred when joyful), he adjusts his position every couple of minutes, he dramatically falls to the ground frequently.

And Scott—

Well. Scott’s very protective of him.

The eighth supplemental meeting Scott attends, Lizzie can’t be there. So it’s a guys’ night, and Pix manages to make it too (Pix had walked in on Scott laughing with Lizzie once, sighed, and offered to draw up alliance papers right then and there), and they spread themselves around Jimmy’s living room and talk about stuff they couldn’t with Lizzie around.

Mainly, how to best prank Lizzie.

It’s been a long time since Scott’s been involved in a prank. His other allies always cut him out of such pranks, both because they think he holds himself above them and because he actually does. He expects to be automatically excluded from the conversation, so it’s a welcome surprise when Joel asks him what he thinks they should do.

He doesn’t have a suggestion, but he doesn’t mind adding on to others’ ideas until they have a handful of fully developed plans, all of which they’re certain will never work. The conversation dies down, and Pix heads out while there’s still some light, and somehow the conversation turns from Joel’s upcoming wedding to kissing.

“Lizzie kisses excellently, thank you very much,” Joel says, mocking offense, when Scott implies that her sharp teeth must get in the way. “And Jimmy has much sharper teeth, and he’s a better kisser than she is!”

Scott lets out a bark of laughter. “Does Lizzie know you’ve been kissing her brother?” he teases, and he misses the way Jimmy slowly slides so that his face is under the blanket he’s curled up in.

Joel chuckles. “All right, I’ll ask Lizzie to give you one free kiss so you can tell the difference.”

It takes a moment for Scott to process what Joel means, but when he does, he blinks. That implies that he’s kissed Jimmy. Does Joel think—?

Joel notices his confusion somehow, frowns. He looks to the lump that is Jimmy, and his eyes grow wide.

“Jimmy,” he gasps, clutching his hand to his chest dramatically. “You broke Cod tradition for Smajor, and not your own future brother-in-law? Not for your own sister?”

The tips of Jimmy’s long ears, the only visible part of his body, flush a darker green. Scott’s starting to realize that something is missing, there’s some joke that he’s being left out of.

“We didn’t know we were seablings then,” comes Jimmy’s muffled voice, and Scott can hear how embarrassed he is. Joel turns to Scott, mouth ajar.

“You mean he didn’t kiss you?”

Scott chokes on air, his face heating. Why would Joel think—does he act like he wants—does he want—?

Joel bursts out laughing. “Jimmy,” he manages between cackles, “you can’t let that get in the way of custom!”

“Shut up, Joel,” Jimmy grumbles, shoving the blanket further over himself. Scott feels like doing something similar, even though he’s still not entirely sure what’s going on. Joel sees the confusion on his face and takes a break from laughing to explain.

“It’s a custom of the Cod Empire for a kiss to seal an alliance,” he says, and oh.

Oh.

Well then—

“Why didn’t I get a kiss?” Scott blurts out, before his hands slap over his mouth. Maybe Jimmy wasn’t comfortable with him, maybe he didn’t want to kiss Scott, maybe there’s something in his religion or customs against kissing elves—

“Ididn’tkissyoubecauseIthoughtyoumightbeuncomfortablebyitandIbarelyknewyouandohCodI’vemessedthingsuphaven’tI—”

“Calm down, Jim,” chortles Joel, and Jimmy cuts off instantly, the tiny part of his forehead that had poked out from the blanket disappearing again. Joel gives Scott a significant look (one that Scott has no idea how to translate) before stretching and yawning loudly.

“Well, I’d best head home,” he says conspicuously, rising from the floor with a few pops of joints. “It’s getting late, and I promised Lizzie I’d stop by for supper, so I’ll see you, er . . . gentlemen later.”

Before either of them can protest, Joel is gone, the door swinging shut behind him. Jimmy and Scott both sit frozen for a few seconds, before Scott clears his throat.

“Um. So. Wh—”

“You don’t have to kiss me,” Jimmy says suddenly, sitting up. His face is still pink, almost shining in the lantern light. He draws his knees to his chest, wraps his arms around them. “Like, I get that it’s a weird custom. And if it makes you uncomfortable, it’s okay. Since we signed and sealed and all, it’s probably still legal here. Maybe. It’s legal for you at least, and I can talk to my—”

“Jimmy,” Scott says, and Jimmy cuts off and looks to him expectantly. Scott’s got no problem with a little kiss for an alliance, he’s just not sure why he’s an exception—after everybody, after Joel, Jimmy didn’t want to kiss him.

He isn’t going to force his ally—his friend to do that. He knows they’re not really close, he hasn’t properly known Jimmy as long as Lizzie and Joel have, and maybe there are other reasons that he doesn’t want to think about but that’s about the long and the short of it and that’s okay.

“Thank you for considering my feelings,” Scott says after a moment, collecting his thoughts. “I would have been all right with it, as it is a custom in your empire. But I understand that if you are not comfortable engaging in such an . . . intimate act with—”

“No, no, that’s not it at all!” Jimmy hurries to say, rolling off the couch to join Scott on the floor. “I just—well, when you offered to be allies, I was still sort of . . . afraid? Of you? But I wasn’t just going to turn you down, so I didn’t want to do something weird that would push you away and—”

Scott cuts him off by leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his lips.

It’s not exactly a little kiss, like Scott had expected, because as soon as his lips meet Jimmy’s, Jimmy rises to his knees, placing one hand on the back of Scott’s head to tilt it back and opening his mouth just slightly to rub his lips against Scott’s, and wow.

Scott’s practically seeing stars as every nerve in his mouth ignites, and then one of Jimmy’s sharp teeth presses against his bottom lip and Scott’s mouth falls open as his body goes slack. Almost unconsciously, his hands go up to grasp at Jimmy’s shirt—

But Jimmy places his hand on Scott’s jaw, gently coaxing his mouth closed as he pulls away, their lips parting with a soft kissing noise. Scott blinks a couple of times, rubbing his lips against each other to try and rid them of the electrifying feeling.

He—wow. All of his thoughts are just . . . his thoughts have drifted from his head, chased out by the storm that is Jimmy.

The world is brighter, saturated, and Scott panics for a split second—is he ill? Was he poisoned again?—before relaxing, a little voice in the back of his head reminding him that it’s been quite a long time since he’s kissed anyone, and even longer since he kissed someone like that. He’s just . . . overwhelmed.

“Was that all right?” Jimmy asks cautiously, too loud, and Scott’s hands twitch up, as if to cover his ears. He blinks at Jimmy, who looks almost scared. He shifts a little, winces when his sleeve rubs against the rest of his shirt the wrong way. All he can think of is Jimmy’s soft lips, his sharp teeth, his hot mouth—

He leans forward, hands curling in the front of Jimmy’s shirt, and he once again meets Jimmy’s lips.

It’s fire all over again, and he pushes desperately against Jimmy’s lips, and Jimmy pushes back, their mouths moving against each other fluidly and fiercely and hot and burning and overwhelming—

Scott goes stiff, muscles tightening, eyes stinging as his mouth freezes. Jimmy immediately pulls away, backing up, the slide of his pant legs on the floor grinding in Scott’s ears. This time when his hands twitch up, he lets them cover his ears. Everything is so loud, so ugly, so sharp. . . .

He squints his eyes shut, his head pounding from the haloing brightness of the lantern on the table. He’s shaking, his skin crackling, his mouth pulsing as if there’s a radioactive beam inside it. There’s so much, there’s too much, and everything’s so everywhere—

“Scott?” 

His name is like a lightning strike, piercing through his ears and frying his brain and he just can’t—

He stumbles up, hands still clamped over his ears, biting his tongue to keep from crying out as his feet scrape against the floor in a way that makes it feel like his spine is being sandpapered.

Somehow he manages to make it out of the cabin, every brush of anything against him burning a hole through his body. His wings itch something terrible, despite knowing that he just groomed them the day before. Still he spreads them, as painful as it is to his senses, and takes flight.

The trip is a blur, a blur of tears and pain and intense feelings, and Scott doesn’t really come back to himself for what might be hours.

It’s dark and still and warm, and it takes him a moment to figure out where he is, but when he does, he feels his cheeks heat. The heavy blanket pulled over his head blocks out all light and vision, but the close walls and hard floor let him know that he’s curled up at the bottom of his closet.

He used to go to this exact place when he was younger, still in the early years of a century. He hasn’t had such a meltdown in at least three decades, likely longer. He can’t imagine what his parents would say to him if they could see him now.

Elves’ senses are insanely heightened in comparison to a human. It’s commonplace for young elflings to be overwhelmed by the world and everything in it on occasion, but such behaviors are not at all princely—or, kingly, now. He forgets sometimes that he’s not an errant prince anymore, particularly since he barely feels a day over seventy.

He’d had quite a few episodes of sensory overload as an elfling, particularly when he was dragged to meetings and parties by his parents. He’s gotten much better at repressing them, though—these days, when he can feel it’s a bad sensory day, he performs office work from his bedroom and orders comfort foods. When he absolutely must leave, for a House Blossom council or otherwise, he wears flesh-colored earplugs and tinted glasses and avoids speaking or making physical contact. But those days are far and few between, and today was likely the first bad day all year. It’s his own fault that he'd ignored the warning signs this morning, childishly excited for his alliance meeting.

Scott can't help but feel that he's ruined everything, in three precise ways.

The first way is his sensory overload. By freaking out over normal things, he's snubbed Jimmy and left without even having the manners to inform him of the issue. That in and of itself would not necessarily be alliance-breaking, but the thing that led up to the sensory overload. . . .

The kiss. Or rather, kisses. Because yes, the first one was for the alliance, but the second was completely unsolicited. In fact, both were unsolicited because he never asked permission. Both were also incredibly invasive and he doesn't know if Jimmy has any sort of trauma around that sort of affection and . . . yeah. Bad news all around.

And the third way in which Scott has messed everything up is where the second one stems from—Jimmy. Because looking back, it is totally and completely obvious that Scott has a crush the size of Jimmy's cod statue.

He hasn't had a crush in half a century at least (the last he can remember is a fling with a kitchen boy at around sixty years old, which had only lasted a year), which is more than likely why he hadn't recognized the signs. How concerned he is for Jimmy's health, how he does anything and everything to please him, how he'll drop anything just to listen to Jimmy talk, the way he looks forward to those burning-touch hugs and tingling brushes. . . .

Scott is. Well. He's fallen farther than snow in a ravine.

And that's bad. That's very bad. Because a. Jimmy doesn't feel the same way, and b. he cannot become so emotionally invested in Jimmy because Jimmy will break his heart and then he'll be too hurt to protect him and something bad will happen because Scott isn't there and there's nobody to—

He cuts off the thought. He's not going to let it go that far. He's going to withdraw a bit, still attend occasional supplemental meetings but only enough so that they don't grow suspicious. He's going to avoid most direct contact with Jimmy. He's—

There are tears welling up in his eyes. He dashes them away furiously. He's a hundred and nine years old, he should be over all these stupid . . . feelings!

Not to mention, he's one hundred and nine. Jimmy's surely not over twenty-five. Scott is going to live eternally. Jimmy will pass with an average human lifetime—maybe a bit elongated, maybe a bit shortened depending on how his specific brand of hybrid works. A relationship between the two of them would literally never last.

Scott sits up only to bonk his head against the wall and realize that he’s still on the floor of his closet. He takes stock of himself, decides he’s still exhausted enough to sleep but would like to do it in the comfort of his own bed. He reaches up, slides the door to the side—

And is hit by a burst of light. He cringes back, covering his eyes, then slowly rises and makes his way to the window, where the light is coming from, and draws the curtains.

It’s . . . it’s morning. He’d left the Cod Empire mid-evening. He’s been curled up in his closet, having a meltdown, all night.

Scott rolls into his bed, finding his shoes have been kicked off already, and buries his face in a pillow shamefully. He’s ruined everything.

Well, not everything. Logically, he knows his new alliances won’t be broken off just by an accidental kiss and an abrupt exit from a meeting, but he’s ruined everything with Jimmy as a friend.

That’s fine, though. He shouldn’t have friends, it’s a sign of weakness. Allies are just fine.

For now, he needs to sleep, sleep and try to forget about everything that’s just happened. Then when he wakes up, he’s going to have to have some discussions with his advisory council to come up with a way to get some soldiers assigned rotationally to the Cod Empire.

Most importantly, he’s going to have to find a way to avoid Jimmy while still protecting him. Jimmy’s already been so hurt. Scott isn’t going to let himself become another one of Jimmy’s abusers.

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