Micro background-canon/fanon thingy

[mina_de_malfois]

This isn't a real update, in other words.

Thanks to jadegoldocean for writing this warning:
Warning: while this contains no actual sex, there are indications that something sexual will happen immediately after it.


They'd been working on Princely Plots for hours.

"I bet you never imagined you'd be turning to me for help." PrinceC almost managed to say that without smirking; perhaps if he'd tried, it would have been smirk-free. But it's difficult not to smirk when you're confident about how the conversation will go.

"Not particularly, no." Warr1or shrugged. He was standing behind PrinceC, not even close enough to read the screen over the younger man's shoulder. His hands were in his pockets; his space was inviolate, and he'd left distance between them deliberately. But now, sensing the slight challenge, he took one step forward. Still not close enough to touch, but close enough to loom. PrinceC didn't hear the step, didn't register the looming. "Why?"

Now PrinceC shrugged, one shoulder only, the movement carelessly beautiful under the silk of his Gryffindor pyjamas. "It's just that I know what you think of me, or at least, what your first impressions of me were."

"Really." It wasn't a question, just a desert-dry statement, irony laced with something that might have been anger. "That's quite a talent, mindreading."

Now PrinceC spun around, hearing something he couldn't quite identify. For the first time he looked puzzled, puzzled enough that he forgot to look cocky. That only lasted a second, though, and then the surety came back.

"You're not exactly hard to read," he teased. "You probably thought I was just another fanboi, revoltingly casual about gender and sexuality. Or possibly you thought I was going to burn in hell for reading slash, or for shipping the wrong characters."

Warr1or's eyes darkened, but he answered calmly. "You forget how well known you are, then. I'd heard about you long before you ever spoke to me. I thought the same things everyone thinks, unless they're one of your fans."

PrinceC's smile faltered, but not a lot: he'd known, of course, that everyone with a large following inevitably attracts a few anti-fans. Still, he stood up before he answered, some instinct warning him that this entirely pleasant banter was turning somehow confrontational.

"And what, exactly, is that? What did you think?"

Warr1or stepped closer still. "Too caught up in your own popularity to question yourself. Careful to play it right down the line: just scornful enough of your fans to look cool, but not scornful enough to really risk their adulation."

PrinceC blinked. "Where the hell is this coming from?"

Warr1or wasn't done. "Cautious about weighing in on anything really controversial; diligent about weighing in on the things fandom likes to think are controversial, like sexuality, but only to give the already agreed-upon answers. But you give the answers quicker than anyone else, louder, in just the right words--so you always look like the magic boy, golden, bright, ahead of the curve. And no one has ever said anything different, to your face. It's only behind your back they call you a squib in Gryff pyjamas."

"I thought you were going to call me corrupt. Or unmanly." He gamely aimed for a light tone, but his voice shook, spoiling the effort.

"Oh, no: not that. Never that." The tension between them was almost audible, like steel screaming. Warr1or took the last step, and then there was no space left between them, only the warmth of Warr1or's body, as improbably hard and male and fantasy-worthy as one of his stupidly stereotyped fic characters. PrinceC shivered, unable to look away.