daemon: junod, video.

[money]

( be well, xistentia! and enjoy the look of a handsome man lighting up your daemon screens, well-dressed by the looks of it, and certainly not missing an accessory here or there. from the silver in his ears down to the intricate locks of rings around his fingers, this man seems to be the very epitome of fashion — from somewhere, at least. nonetheless, he radiates confidence, with a sly smile that seems to know something you, specifically, don't but — what he knows, or if he really knows anything at all, remains to be seen.

waggling his fingers, )

Hello and a very warm greeting to you, Xistentia! My name is Colton. I apologize for not introducing myself sooner, but I was a touch distracted, what with the war and whatnot. Such terrible times. And a terrible welcome party, for me!

Allow me the chance to sweeten some welcome for all of us newcomers, hm? Myself and resident Juno Steel will be hosting a party in the following weeks in a ... ah, 'get to know the neighborhood' type vein. It's also a rather poor excuse to gather a launch party for my lingerie store, Pulsar, which will be up and rising soon enough.

Hope to see you all there! Do give us a mention if you plan on coming, yes? I've promised to go live in the mountains and never show my face again if no one attends, no pressure to all of you, of course. ( and just before he says goodbye, ) Did I mention dress-up is necessary? I certainly hope I did. Bring me your best, Xistentia, I expect no less!

Ta!

Comments

[money]

( he is not often used to being on this side of the dressing room, and his occupied time without juno is frankly boring, staring at his nails and debating the color necessary to match the dress he hasn't picked out yet. it proves a fruitless endeavor, peter too indecisive for his own good and more likely to buy an entire rack of dresses before deciding on just one to fit his mood at the time, but it's something to fill the space of time. if he imagines juno getting undressed a door over, after all, his collar starts to feel a little hot.

trying to keep his thoughts elsewhere ends up being a moot point once juno exits, all high strung and tension in the air, obviously uncomfortable but never once more beautiful. maybe once. maybe many times. none especially come to mind now as peter is staring at him, a little awed but with his expression mostly controlled -- he expected this, after all. he knew juno would be a stunner in anything he put on, but. theory and practice are two separate concepts. juno showered in gray, with the fluorescent lights overheard drawing attention to each and every gem on him, starting at the dress and ending at his single, green eye -- it's reason to stare. more than reason, it demands it. his taunt shoulders and pouty lips do little to dissuade the look.

standing after a once over, peter crosses over to him, reaching smart fingers out to poke and prod at the dress, pulling fabric this way and that to suit him more perfectly, to drape more elegantly. at the end of it, he's poised behind juno, facing the mirror, watching the way his fingers pick at juno's skirt, helping it lay just right. the image in the mirror paints a perfect mirage of two happy people standing beside each other, a more insecure lover letting their other pick the dress they look most flawfree in. in truth, there are more than a few obstacles that keep the space between peter's fingers and juno's hips away from each other, more mountains to climb and rivers to cross. they'll probably never get back to the way they were before, but little steps have never really been their way on going about things. ( peter propositioned him for sex before juno even knew they were on a date. slow is not in his vocabulary. )

so, in a grand leap, peter presses a fond kiss to juno's cheek. when he smiles, he's smiling at him, and not the lady in the mirror. )

Divine. ( his hands don't move from their place at his hips, even with the skirt settled. ) Although, from the look of the pout on your lips, I expect this was some kind of attempt to spite me. Unfortunately for you, you'd look perfect in any of the dresses in this store or any other, so I remain -- thoroughly pleased. That said, I don't think this is the all encompassing One. Come, show us another.

[monologue]

[ the point of contact for the kiss practically explodes into heat and juno does his best to remain absolutely still against it, the barest sigh passing his lips as peter settles his hands on him. it's... well, it feels okay, for the moment. that they're alright. staring in this mirror, it's not at all like they've been through hell and back, like juno's gone and left him for a city that doesn't love him back. it feels like they've been doing this for a long time even if they've still got a hell of a lot to learn about each other. he knows far more about nureyev than nureyev could ever claim to know about him, research or not.

he glances down at bit at the hands stilled on his waist, lifting his own up to hold them for a moment before pulling away in response to all of that. ]

Alright, alright, then, [ his fingers slip up Peter's wrist, guide him towards the door and nudge with his knee a little, the skirts shifting out of place again. it's a nudge that could be considered rude by most, playful to maybe a handful of people that know juno. the timbre of his voice rough, the laughter behind it half-concealed. ] Out you go. A lady's gotta have his privacy.

[ a brief squeeze of the wrist there, a stroke of the thumb, before he shoos Peter out thoroughly and locks the door again, bracing his back against it a moment and letting himself feel the flush surge from the top of his head down to the tips of his toes, a brief moment he relishes in before shaking it off. he peels off the first dress slowly, deciding wisely not to treat it like the rest of his clothes (sort of half bundled up on the edge of the small bench in the dressing room). he hands it up and moves onto the next, a warm shade of peach that feels even softer and more luxurious on his fingertips. the first felt like a warm up, this second one makes juno feel a little bit more like he can do this. the phantom sensation of fingers on his hips, the kissed sensation tattooed on his cheek... well.

he might be a little more resolute to get this dress on, taking extra care with the draping, the fabric, more than he'd usually take, until he gets to the concept of the clasps and zipper in the back - which start out fairly low, but the reach is awkward and he gets about halfway up before realizing he may need to (unfortunately) call in for reinforcements.

which takes a good five to seven minutes for him to ask.

which results in the door cracking open just a bit, juno holding the top portion of the dress up, part of it draped over his shoulder, the other bare. it's... cold, but at the same time, juno (a dumbass all the same) is very much aware of how he looks sticking his neck out like a tease. ]

I need a little help with this one.

[money]

( shuffled out, peter chuckles airily but complies, palms up as he intends to go without a fuss. he does catalog that juno didn't get mad about the kiss, which does intrigue him in a deeper cockle of his heart that is generally reserved for late nights and earlier mornings -- certainly a window that opens up new boundaries to be tested, new structures to push and tease their durability. outside he keeps on his feet, checking his hair in a nearby mirror although it always stays as it was thanks to talented hands and quality products, wasting the time away. certainly, he'd rather be in the stall with juno, but he won't push his luck. not yet, at least.

though, juno takes his time with the next dress. peter might've thought it was a power move to get him to sweat under the collar, if he hadn't already checked that there weren't any windows for a certain damsel to go running out from lest he start feeling the pressure again. peter knows not to panic, even if juno is especially good at making him forget the last thirty years of training and sleuthing about, making him feel no more eloquent than the boy mag had found and taken under his wing. it's still a relief when juno calls to him, peeking out of the door like a blushing, untouched princess, asking the ever present knight in stolen armor for his help. peter takes a moment to soak in the look of him before nodding, taking a flamboyant bow just in front of him. )

Of course, Your Majesty.

( helping himself inside, he sees the parts juno couldn't quite reach. again, he takes a spot behind him, fingers latching on the zipper. )

Did you need help in, ( notably, his fingers tug the zipper down -- ) or out?

( he isn't too crass with his intents. the zipper sits midback and peter bends so he can purse his lips against the warm line of skin the peach fabric creates, following tongue with the teeth of the zipper, sealing his kisses inside and against him. certainly risque but not overly so -- he's polite at the end of it, pushing his nose on the soft space of skin behind juno's ear while the final clasp is locked into place. momentarily he admires his handwork, and not so momentarily he admires juno, letting his gaze rise and sink with each of juno's following curves. )

Thoughts on this one? I like it. ( the second long pause with but sitting in the air. ) But, we can do better!

[monologue]

Don't be a smartass, [ juno mutters, straightening his shoulders as peter evaluates and lets his fingers trail up the zipper. he expects him to just zip it up, but really, who would he be if he didn't... do it with a flourish. and by flourish, clearly that means... kissing him. juno feels the first one the moment peter's head ducks down, wonders just why he's leaning in until he feels the soft press of soft lips against his spine, bringing him to jerk a little in surprise. the zipper moves up a couple of inches, and then another kiss presses itself there, a slowly moving path that gathers up fabric against his skin, leaving him warmed with every breath peter leaves behind. in that precise moment, juno wants to know what would happen if he turned around and said fuck it to the dress.

but he stays where he is, fingers flexing a little with each kiss, bracing himself as they climb higher until finally nureyev's nose brushes softly against the back of his ear, pressing in close so that they're back to chest against and peter is clearly admiring the piece draped over him.

juno thought that maybe it'd look decent, but he's not as fond of it as he thought he would be.

he lifts fingers up as if to push a bit of hair behind his ear, makes a vaguely dismissive gesture with his hand as he does it, tips of his fingers brushing the warmth of nureyev's head behind his for a moment, just to touch... maybe even to keep him there for half a second longer as he evaluates the dress himself.

... he doesn't hate it but.

his eyes glance over to the two other pieces waiting. ]

Guess I gotta give everyone a fair chance, huh?

[ he turns his head, looking at him just out of the corner of his eye before reaching back and splaying fingers over the clasp that's just be done up. he could undo it himself, he realizes, at this distance, fingers quite clearly capable of flicking it open, but he gives a big sigh instead.

two can bullshit. ] Unzip. Then you're out again. [ a beat, a warning that isn't really a warning, more mutual understanding. the kisses are... nice. but they're pushing it. juno can feel his shoulders practically blush under the attention alone and this isn't the best place for all of this. behind a flimsy little door, even as tempting as it might be. he bites his lip a little, the motion unconscious again, working it over slowly and then with an added, clipped set of words. ] No funny business.

[money]

No funny business. ( peter echoes, in a roger that type of way. despite outward appearances, or what the last few minutes have proven, he's perfectly capable of being a gentleman when the time calls -- that time is just frequently when he's not around juno. juno, who is often too stubborn for his own good, who is not specifically the fuck in the dressing room type of lady. peter certainly wouldn't let their ... revisit to a first time ( second time, peter ) be in someplace like this, but he's not sure juno knows that. then again, if juno asked

who is peter to say no? )

As you wish. ( he's on his best behavior for now, unzipping juno and not staying around to watch him strip, letting the warmth of his fingers on juno's back be his temporary goodbye. the door silently shuts behind him but he doesn't wander off far, leaning against the wall beside the door and wondering, briefly, when juno managed to get him so thoroughly wrapped around his pinkie finger. it's not the first time he's wondered it, and it'll never be the last, but for the first time in a long time it isn't -- a bad feeling. being in love with someone a planet and a heart away, trying to figure out how he could possibly still have ties that draw him to mars, when he lost the ability to make knots several years ago. they haven't known each other that long, after all. in the grand scheme of things they're practically strangers.

but there's more to knowing a person than just knowing the things that have happened to them -- there's knowing them, who they are, down to the microscopic mineral makeup of their being. that's where peter loves juno, in the grime and dirt and guts of who he is. where it matters.

he's trying on dresses for a party peter felt like throwing for no other reason than to have an excuse to be beside juno, and peter's wondering if he's ever once been happier in his life. )

[monologue]

[ as soon as peter leaves, juno immediately strips out of the rest of the dress, letting it pool visibly at his ankles from the bottom of the door. there’s strategy to this, the kind that nureyev would normally employ, he’s almost certain. the cool air on his skin, the flush heating over his cheeks, the way the silken fabric feels on his skin sliding down and then gathered up in his hands as he steps out of it slowly and begins to return it to its proper hanger. the third dress is hanging there next to the slightly shoved aside pants, a skirt that is tiered in all kinds of rich jewel tones that make juno’s fingers twitch with anticipation as he reaches for it and begins to slowly layer it on.

this isn’t an experience he’d ever thought himself taking part in... not even in his wildest dreams. he looks down at each individual skirt, how they layer over one another in fantastical, intricate patterns that as he gathers them in his hands, pulling them in and close, he feels like he has to most definitely be day dreaming or something.

or it’s a nightmare and he’s about to fall through the floor and into a giant birthday cake again while his mother’s voice mocks him from on high.

he shakes his head and continues dressing, finding no trouble with this dress. but it feels so rich between his fingers, almost as if he’s sullying it with his touch, every scarred finger falling atop embroidered ridges as he lets the skirts settle and the draping sash fall naturally over his arm. looking in the mirror in this moment makes him pause a moment, eyes trailing down over where it comes down at his waist and spreads out in all kinds of colors that he hadn’t dreamt of wearing in years. emeralds and sapphires and ruby reds hidden cleverly underneath those cooler colors that make his fingers shake as he lifts them up and then drops them. a breath. hesitance.

he reimagines the sensation of peter’s hands on his hips, the feel of his mouth on his spine climbing slowly with the zipper. the prickling feeling that had crawled all the way up to the nape of his neck has tattooed itself so thoroughly, like the scent of him into the folds of his brain.

juno’s voice is soft as he opens his eyes, half breaking. ]

Get in here.

[money]

( he has to physically restrain himself from entering too quickly, but it's still a swift thing, juno calling and peter responding to his call, falling in line with him. opening the door is fast, but peter is slow in the doorframe, captivated by the look of -- him. he looks better than peter could've imagined, caked in royalty and dripping in wealth, the fabric hugging him, the colors complementing him. peter clears his throat after a respectable time, shutting the door silently. he doesn't approach right away this time, just observes juno from his place at the door. )

Beautiful, Juno.

( is eventually what comes out. he knows the pants suit is still coming up, and that that is their winner, but this -- it'd be a shame if juno didn't get this, wouldn't it?

he stalks forward, pressing his palm to the embroidered cloth on juno's arm, sliding up to draw his fingers across his shoulders in one long, elegant touch. his eyes don't stay in one spot for long -- there's too much to look at, and peter will never get tired of staring at him, especially in a dress like this, hugging him and holding him in all the right spots. the phrase it'd look better on the floor comes to mind.

peter hums, catches juno's hand, and brings it up for a kiss on his knuckles. )

Absolutely gorgeous. ( another kiss. ) May I fix your skirts, though? They're facing the wrong ways.

( it's easy enough to miss with an inattentive eye, but peter is renowned for his careful consideration. he guides juno to a bench, treats him like royalty while he finds a seat and peter finds a spot to kneel before him, cupping a kind hand on the back of his bare heel. sliding up is easy, under the skirts and against juno's leg, finding the curve of his knee and the soft swatch of skin on his inner thigh ...

teasing, simple as that. he doesn't touch anywhere especially explicit, reaching past the goods and going for juno's hips, wiggling his skirts gently around. being that far up his dress brings peter all the closer to him, and they're -- they're very close, now, nearly pressed up against each other if not for the mountain of fabric dividing them. peter notices it a bit too late, and then he's just. staring. hands at juno's hips, eyes locked on his mouth. )

Juno ...

[monologue]

[ juno doesn’t even bat an eyelash at being crowded near a bench, dropping down slowly and automatically making space with his legs for peter to slide between them. his hands are warm, slender and strong, skimming up his ankle, his thigh, his hip in a way that is so completely aware of itself and kind that it makes juno want to implode then and there. his breathing is controlled, fingers twitching a little in the skirts as peter’s hands find the skirts and begin to shift them around. he can see the patterns begin to actually line up, and the dress is actually even more beautiful this way as he looks down, fabric crinkled over his spread knees as peter shoulders up against his thighs and brings them close enough that juno’s entire body throbs with the proximity.

this is dangerous.

more so than before because peter is so suffused in his own scent, in the way his eyes are focused low the way you’d ogle someone’s mouth for fullness. juno’s tongue slides out briefly, wets his lower lip as he settles against the bench, fingers coming up to rest themselves in the warmth of peter’s hair as he stares back at him—drawn in by his eyes, trapped nearly with the words anchored to his throat and unwilling to leave. ]

It’s nice... but it’s not me...

[ juno nearly whispers it out, fingers curling in the smooth, silken strands of his well-kept hair, thumbs pressing against his scalp. with every breath the skirts seem to protest with a rustling noise, leaving juno that much more aware of how the chill of the dressing room is pricking the skin of his thighs, front and back, bare except for black boxer briefs that feel much more constricted than before.

because maybe he is the kind of lady who could get off on something quick and desperate behind the kind of door, rattling and flimsy, with peter nureyev at the helm of his please and just the thought of that image alone makes him squirm just a bit more against the hands at his hips. ]

Just fixing the skirts, huh?

[ accusatory, but not angry as he pulls him up a little closer and lets his thighs press in that much more. this is probably a bad idea, really bad, definitely bad. he’s thought about this multiple times over the course of this trip alone and now he’s pretty sure he won’t be able to stop himself.

he doesn’t want to stop himself, likes this brief moment of having control where nureyev’s eyes are his and his mouth is his and he’s on his knees even though his stomach is turning and he feels like maybe on the other hand he should be the one on his knees.

apologizing again and again.

but maybe when they’re done with this. when they’re... at that weirdly cozy apartment and juno can say his name like the gift it really is. ]

You like it?

[money]

( it is very moth to the flame, peter drawn in by the gaze juno gives him, following the tugging path of his hand right where it leads, all the closer, all the more implied. dangerous, yeah. peter likes dangerous, he likes juno, he likes the way poor decisions follow him like a chemtrail and how the poor decisions fall in his favor. like now, passion laced, pining after each other like needy teenagers -- juno makes him feel younger, rejuvenated, brighter, like these little risks don't mean a thing, like if they're caught, he'll be happy enough to have a reason to rub this relationship in the nose of some random person he doesn't know. yes, look at him, he wants me, he lets me have him.

his thumbs poke right above his waistband, playing a bit with the elastic, like he might be debating just ripping them off altogether. the idea is ripened at the front of his mind, there and there again, and yet there's another idea -- a more romantic one, with a bedroom and candles and roses and sweeter things, tidier and more lovely than this dressing room. both have their merits, but peter thinks

he might just want this one thing in his life to be done right. )

I like it.

( is a purr on his lips, leaning forward so he might be able to press a kiss on the corner of juno's mouth, firmly placed, if innocent. not so innocent -- his hand ghosts barely over the front of his underwear, shabby in comparison, testing the waters. )

Should I show you how much I like it? Or, would you like to try on the last one so we can get out of here?

[monologue]

[ juno focuses in on peter's eyes, the closer they get, the closer his mouth gets. he exhales softly against his cheek as a kiss is pressed to the corner of his mouth, eyes focused on the corner of the dressing room as he sits with peter nureyev between his legs like he belongs there, like they were meant to fit together like this -

bullshit.

juno ruined that, didn't he?

but nureyev... peter is still kissing him with the doting kind of affection that says he doesn't seem to care for the past, just as he always has stated. that the now is the most important, that pressing forward reigns king. juno closes his eyes a moment, against his mouth, against his hand, turning his head to meet his mouth as he speaks and kiss him again at the very tail end of his words, eating them up slowly behind the flimsy closed door of the stall. the fabric of the dress shifts as juno presses up a little into his hand, indulging the warmth and skill of peter's palm as it barely whispers between his legs. enough to taste, not enough to satisfy and juno squirms a little at the very thought of that.

he turns his head and kisses him slowly on the mouth, pressing up against his hand with a sigh and trying to make this contact last as long as it can, stretching the moment out for once instead of trying to pass from one to the next for fear of it just becoming some kind of hideous nightmare he'll wake up sweating from. the skirts bunch up further around his waist as he greedily pulls peter up more with a strong grip, a firmer kiss and a barely-there growl just for him to hear.

words... mouth words. half mumbled over peter's mouth when he pulls back just a centimeter. ] Should... we should finish what he came here for.

[ it's a hard choice to make, but hell. this - it's not the best place to do this kind of thing.

as much of a delight as this might be, juno can feel the sting from the awkward angle, knows it's not going to be... nearly as nice like this. hell, peter's going to have an awful time of it and maybe he's way more concerned about that as he tilts his head and kisses peter full on the mouth, holds it so he can taste the warmth of his mouth, breathe in whatever is left of that warm, spiced scent to him. he shifts, thighs coming down around him, scooting forward on the bench a bit and letting fingers down to re-situate the bunched up skirts.

he does leave peter's hand down there, however, pressing up against it one more time, maybe for self-indulgence, maybe to show him he's still interested. maybe to prove he's not... he's not going to run away (because where would you run to? says something dark and angry inside of him.) ]

I'll make the last one quick.

[money]

( he doesn't take it as any sort of rejection -- if anything, he's chuffed at how responsible juno seems in the moment, ever a protector of all things great and small. it's suitable to his character, not wanting to put any blushing workers out any -- and peter isn't going to pout about a change in plans, a shift in direction, a pause button for later. he meets the kisses as they come, short and long, sweeter and more passionate, grazing his fingers once more against the bones of his hips, touching spots that will later yet be discovered. and one at a time, his hands pop out from under juno's dress to cup the sides of his neck, pulling him in for the kiss after the kiss. i'll make this last one quick, might as well refer to the kisses peter can't seem to draw away from, following each end with a new beginning.

but it ends eventually, peter finishing kisses as soon as he finishes settling juno's skirts around him, rising up from his kneeling in one swooping motion. his hand lingers on juno's cheek, affectionately drawing his thumb to the corner of his lips, with a small quirk as if silently hinting that he should smile more. )

As you wish.

( he says again, pulling away without another word and helping himself back to his spot outside the door, letting juno sort himself out. peter sorts his own in a way, finding a corner somewhere to rearrange his pants ... and then he finds his seat, same as before, the kind and considering boyfriend awaiting his girlfriend's long awaited return. )

DON'T LET ME PHONE TAG EVER AGAIN

[monologue]

[ juno watches peter leave in a series of perfect motions that make him wonder if peter isn’t some kind of graceful alien himself, all smooth limbs and easy smile, a kiss that makes his lips buzz and his head hum with dizzying thoughts and memories of hands on his hips. the feel of which is practically tattooed there for the rest of his life probably. juno leans back against the bench a moment, breathing out slowly, as quietly as he dares. hands slowly begin to undo the clasps on the dress, smoothing the skirt down along with his legs, which feel too soft at the knee, but juno forces them stiff as he rises up and lets the skirt pool to the floor again.

the arousal low in his belly, something he hasn’t felt in months... it shows. he covers it up promptly with his hands as if he didn’t have underwear and a dressing room door already in front of him. thinking to that is enough to get him to slowly... slowly start to calm down a little. only a little, but enough.

now for the last one, which he looks over to briefly and hesitates. maybe he’s better off just getting a dress of peter’s choosing, let him have his fun. they liked the last one well enough right? but there’s a simplicity to the jacket and trousers cut in a cream and vibrant blue that has juno picking them up without hesitation and donning them, suddenly feeling a breath flood his lungs. it’s something like relief. even though the trousers are long and the jacket is no skirt, the way it closes up gives off a lovely illusion of it, parting in an a-line where it leaves his waist, baring the tattoo on his arm, multiple scars but in a way he doesn’t feel too out of place about.

this one feels... unequivocally him, even if the trousers themselves are long enough that he needs to lean down and take the time to fold them over twice to just above the ankle.

better.

all of it feels better, looking in the mirror, preening maybe a little because he likes how it looks on him in the shoulders. a lady who knows what he wants, which is what juno strives and fails to be constantly and boy does he know it. he glances down again at his knees, at the mirror, thinks about peter kissing his mouth, sliding polite hands up his thighs, enough to make him fuss a little with one fold of the jacket as he tries to steady himself with another toneless breath. peter, here with him, saying too nice things with too pretty words into his ear, his neck, the edge of his mouth. how dare he, right?

juno debates this with a scowl, playfully so, giving a self indulgent turn to admire himself in the mirror out of the corner of his eye. he leans over and unlocks the door to the changing room one last time, jerking a hand a way to point out something very important with his hands: pockets in the fold of the jacket, softly lined pockets he can stick his hands into.

of course. ]

What do you think of this one? A winner?

[ he turns a little when peter enters, a slow step around in a circle to let him see all the angles with a smile trailing over his lips. it absolutely is. ]

holds u

[money]

( outside is a chilly recluse compared to the warm interiors, but peter makes due as he has done, pretending he isn't pacing as he paces the outside corridor, thinking about juno in The Dress -- or any number of dresses, or out of them, or just thinking about plain old juno, and how strange it is to have him just beyond those doors. four feet at most, not planets and planets and planets away. peter doesn't have to wonder what juno is up to, what kind of trouble he's gotten himself into, what laws he's breaking and what laws he's protecting. he's just over there.

and naked, no less.

the thought brings a fond bit of amusement to his mind. he remembers here and there and little clusters of body hair, and tattoos embedded in the lace work of layers of skin -- he remembers scars and soft spots, and sounds especially, and he's aware he shouldn't be thinking about it, but peter has always been good at doing what he should not. he's got nothing but his thoughts, and his thoughts have nothing but juno.

the suit fits him like a glove, even not tailored and with the pants rolled up his ankles, as if it were made for him. the color, the cut, the way juno holds himself in it -- it's perfect. anyone could see that. peter feels his mouth go dry the longer he looks, but he can't stop himself from looking either, eyes drawing the way his hands would like to, up and down his legs and around his waist. up and down and back again. he steps forward and circles him, but doesn't touch, as if he's looking at an acrylic painting hidden behind plexiglas. forbidden to touch, he -- he breaks the rules again. abruptly. a hand at juno's side roughly, the other tangling their fingers together -- he dips juno like they're mid dance, and looks very pleased with himself because of it. )

Yes, I think this will do nicely.

( he leans in like he might kiss him, but instead nabs the price tag hanging from juno's sleeve before he can get a good look at it. releasing the blushing maiden (!!!), peter steps backwards, waving the tag. )

Change while I pay? I'll have it hemmed and delivered to us.

purrs

[monologue]

[ he's breaking the weird unspoken rule they set from the minute peter walked in for the fourth time. he's breaking it and juno loves it for half of a heartbeat, his fingers gripping peter's upper arms, bearing his weight as best he can so he's not having to hold the entirety of him as he swoops him down and with a yelp following, eyes bright, hair a little more than out of place, and the flush still very much staining his face.

peter's arm under his palm, how close he is, how if they laid there on the ground, they could probably recreate just the right position from that one night on mars that still makes juno's entire body sing mournfully in memory of it. you stupid, stupid, stupid idiot moron dumbass. ]

Hey!

[ his lips set into a line as peter looks him over one last time and finally approves - but really, juno reminds himself what does he need approval for. there are a million and one retorts juno could pick from at the drop of a hat and he opens his mouth to spout one out, but instead, nureyev is plucking the tag from the sleeve of the jacket before he can protest about the price, solving the problem with the length of the pants, solving everything and breezing out. ]

Please don't go breaking the law or whatever the hell they keep around here for rules.

[ even though he's pleading with air he'll still say it. and now he's left half rocking on his feet as the door swings shut, fingering the little plastic bit where the tag once hung, heart still hammering, body taut with excitement and dread as he peels off the outfit and does his best to rearrange it on the hanger. it's not pristine, but it'll do as he pulls on the familiar fabrics of his old outfit again, right down to the way his jacket hangs on his shoulders with all the comforting weight of an old friend, blaster tucked away against his hip.

juno looks over at the outfit again, tagless, lips twisted in an unsatisfied little mou because peter shouldn't. he's not worth any kind of primping or dressing up. when's he going to toss him in the gutter? with that final thought, he steps out and makes a beeline to peter. ]

[money]

( the toothy catch of his grin seems to repeat as you wish a third and final time as peter makes his way to the checkout, remorsefully leaving juno behind to strip himself, even if peter would like nothing more to offer his own expertise in that particular subject. a place and a time for everything, he reminds himself, chatting up the very pleasant saleswoman with mindless banter from some imaginary world peter has made up in his head. he accidentally gets a discount on the outfit which is not the intended outcome, but he isn't complaining. by the time juno comes out of the dressing room, peter is listening to the woman talk about her husband with the intent look of someone who genuinely cares.

could be just another act. but, with peter, who really knows?

when he sees juno he perks up, gestures to him in a this is him, the lady i mentioned type of way, and says his goodbyes, coming to juno's side. his smile is keen, mischievous, and he keeps to juno like a fly on sticky paper on the way out. )

You have quite the eye for fashion, joke unintended. ( maybe he was working on that one while u were getting changed, junos. ) Maybe next time you'll pick my dress for me, hm? In any case, we're off to our next stop -- my business! ( walking down the street, peter's eyebrows raise with clear intent. ) If you were hoping for another place, I'll remind you there's an apartment above the lingerie store. Just so you know.

[monologue]

I wouldn’t go that far—wait what?

[ he slows a bit in his steps, feeling his fingers curl up ever so slightly into his palms at the thought. he hates that peter can read him like a book, as hard as he tries to glue all the damn pages between the covers. he looks down at his shoes, picking up pace just a little to keep peter from hovering so damn much. too close and he’ll probably be able to feel just how hot he is under his coat.

it’s clear he definitely doesn’t mind peter’s presence or being so close but damn if it isn’t hard to forget just how he’d pinned him to that bench, so close, hand between his legs in the sort of way that would have driven juno mad had it been any closer, firmer, skilled fingers...

he shakes his head with a dramatic kind of sigh to shake out the feeling, turning on his heel. ]

You’ve been busy.

[money]

( peter can mind the small bit of distance juno feels the need to separate between the two of them -- it's mostly with a hint of amusement that he slows his pace down, staying outside of juno's personal bubble. was it so long ago he was under his skirts, kissing on his neck? no, but -- juno is flighty by nature, and not nearly as flighty as peter. he has to be handled carefully, and treated better than what he knows how to deal with.

peter hums in agreement, tightening his coat up at the collar. he offers some dreamy wave ahead of them, suggesting it isn't too far away. )

Yes, well. The secret to a good con is having a good backstory. ( lesson number one, juno! take notes. ) And the secret to a long con is keeping it simple. If people are going to trust who I say I am, it needs to be believable. So, Colton. He's a tailor, his father was a tailor. He's opening up a shop because it's the one thing that seems normal to him, on such an odd and uncomfortable adventure.

( he raises his eyebrows, turning his lips up devilishly. )

What do you think? It was that or a hair salon.

[monologue]

[ he's taking notes that he's going to set on fire later because in the end he has no plans on becoming a master thief of any kind. old dog. new tricks. not happening. but there's a faint twitch of his mouth into a smile as he turns to speak. ]

Don't know, you with a pair of scissors to someone's head seems like too much power.

[ it's said fondly at least, the rasp of juno's voice very much there, almost similar to a grumble, but not exactly combative enough to be categorized as one. he pulls his coat together with a hand, making sure to follow nureyev's lead while keeping their very slight distance with one another, two planets in a gravitational orbit with one another. juno is too afraid to collide headfirst, for fear of hurting him, and peter more than willing to come in close again despite what he'd done to him before.

it's baffling. he would say he hates it, but god if his heart doesn't fucking... swell with the very thought of him. ]

[money]

( peter chuckles with juno's joke, eyes lifting up towards the sky, squinting a little with the sun still high enough to shine it's bright and yellow beams. )

Well ... I don't think I can correct you on that.

( his grin is louder, more wolfish, when he turns it back to juno, all sharp teeth and pink lips. his cheeks are a little pinker under the stress of the cold, nose a bit red and shiny, but it's not too long of a walk so he doesn't worry about covering up much. when the shop comes into view, he points it out to juno, following the bright fluorescent lights with the point of his finger, rewriting the cursive in the air. pulsar. as if explaining the question as it comes into juno's mind, ) I thought the name was sexy.

( pulsar, the bright side of a black hole, constant motion, endless light. very sexy. the shop itself is something only peter would describe as humble -- a medium-sized abode with marbled flooring and marbled counter tops, white with gray lining smeared throughout like a smoke ring of priceless minerals moving unhindered through the furniture. gold accents. racks of lingerie line the floor, divided by color at least for the time being, the walls finding homes for heels of different heights, colors, styles. something for everyone! peter pads forward in the shop, heels smacking the ground, arms stretching out in a ta dah! way. )

Work in progress, yes, but here it is! Thoughts? ( clearly not on the shop -- peter walks up to the wall of shoes, looking around.) I'm thinking gold.

[monologue]

Me first: where'd you even learn to do this kind of thing?

[ juno asks right as he steps in. he's not going to even comment on the name - sexy? well. maybe. he's not sure. names have never really read as... sexy to him. at least not any time recently. maybe nureyev's name is a little sexy. a beat. shut up. nevermind. off topic. in any case, he's moving slowly through the store, hands still very much in his pockets now as he tries not to make eye contact with peter just yet. anything like that and he'll probably implode on the spot, all heat and frustration. it's peter's own fault, hands up his dress like that, mouth so close he can practically still feel it on his hips.

HE'S POINTEDLY IGNORING THE SHOE QUESTION. HAVEN'T YOU SPOILED HIM ENOUGH????? ]

I didn't take you for a... craftsman. Really. Not like this... you use this kind of cover before?

[money]

( his head tilts at the question, brow arched in evident confusion as his eyes stare a little more intently at juno, just for a moment, but long enough. it takes a minute for it all to make sense to him, not because there's anything hard to understand about the question, but the way it makes him feel certainly gives pause. the kind of hot beneath the collar like when someone on a con starts asking the right questions, getting on to him, threatening to blow the entire heist by prodding all the more tender spots of his permanently artificial stories. he feels the pressure of being trapped, caught in his own web of lies that spins fatter and farther than anyone can ever really comprehend.

he's never been in this situation before -- with someone who can ask him questions, and he doesn't have to deny or deflect. peter has never been able to be honest, before. he makes a kind of stuttered, nervous sound ) Uh. ( and then sorts himself out, wiping the look off his face and shaking his head, mouth forming a softer smile. )

Most ... entrepreneurs like myself come from humble backgrounds. ( thieves, he means thieves. he waves his hand noncommittally. ) The man who raised me taught me that clothes left an impression, and. For a time, we got by with making our own.

[monologue]

[ oh.

that's not the reaction he was expecting, nureyev looking nervy for half a second before he wipes it over with something that looks as though he's stolen the reins back from between juno's fingers again. he'll steer the conversation on track and juno will pull it where he wants to investigate again and again. that's how it's worked, hasn't it. he steps a little closer, shoulders brushing as he moves towards another wall.

the man who raised him. mag. juno knows this well enough, the memory like a fresh gouge in his brain even after all of these months. nureyev trusted him with whatever he'd seen in his brain, and hell, juno hasn't even told him, has he? told him what exactly it was that he saw back under that martian tomb. he looks down a bit and turns to lean against the wall, watching peter with a slight tilt of his head. ]

Good skill to have. You've uh... really put it to use here, then. Never really got the chance to see it, so. Can't blame me for being a little surprised.

[ half a beat, juno barely gives himself rest on that. ]

Which is my fault. I know.

[money]

( the mood tastes it's different shades of somber now, far from the playful and flirtatious atmosphere at the clothing store, every touch and invitation, and every invitation a request for more. there are times when juno looks so sad that peter's heart aches -- because he doesn't look sad, not really, just has the purposeful absence of sorrow, a look built upon having years of denying it, shutting it out, ignoring it. building up walls to keep invaders out, turning soft skin into rough hide, into armor, into battle wounds and tattooed gooseflesh. peter can relate. sometimes juno looks his age, realism and pessimism saluting the bags under his eyes, making his shoulders weigh heavier and the corners of his lips point down in a pout. but. there are other occasions, brief and bright things, when juno has the light and life of a thousand people in his eyes, and the weight of the world seems worth it for a change, and he's optimistic about the future, because what else does he have if not that?

peter misses that look, immediately. his head tilts in a mirrored image of juno, lazily sweeping his eyes across him, before he pushes off the wall and stands in front of him, a good foot or so his taller half.

he bends in half and kisses him, very innocently, on the mouth. not his fault. he only ever tries to be good. )

No one has ever seen it. ( he pulls back, but with his head still an inch too close to be out of his space. ) That isn't your fault. In another life, I wore rags and the name Peter -- the man you know now has a different life, and no name, except for the gift I'd given you.

Okay? Not your fault, ( he presses a short kiss to the corner of his mouth then, finally peeling away and fluttering back to the shoes. )