[Fic] Even
Title: Even
Author: analine
Pairing: Nataraja/Pasupata (Tuti and Nagayan's Maharaja Mode counterparts ^_~)
Warnings: None, completely worksafe
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~2000
Summary: Pasupata wants to make Nataraja understand.
Notes: My take on why Pasupata did what he did the night Nataraja saved him from the fire. It takes place a few days after the end of the play, in that sort of uncertain period where they're both still getting over learning each other's secrets? And this is totally...an experiment, my first time writing these characters, so... I hope it works? XD;; (And if you need a refresher on the details of the play (like I did ^_~) the info is right here.)
For fencer_x, because without her amazing summary of this play (and the wonderful fic she's written for these two already) I wouldn't have been able to even attempt this. <3
Pasupata jumps in the semi-darkness of Nataraja's chambers, startled at the sound of his friend's voice coming out of what he really thought had been an empty room. He closes his eyes and lets out a sigh.
"Geez, you scared me!" he says, squinting into the room, trying to figure out where Nataraja's voice is coming from. "What are you doing?"
"What are you doing? These were my chambers, last I checked," Nataraja huffs, pushing past Pasupata awkwardly as he stumbles out of wherever it was he was hiding.
Pasupata eyes his friend suspiciously. "What, and I'm not allowed to come check up on you?"
"Check up on me?" Nataraja sounds affronted. "I don't need that from you."
"I'm not saying you need--"
Nataraja holds up a hand dismissively. "You never answered me. What were you planning to do in here? Hide in the closet or something? Spy on me?"
Pasupata lowers his eyes, feeling a bit affronted himself now. "I was going to wait for you to get back, what do you think? How was I supposed to know you'd be sitting in here in the dark?"
Nataraja scoffs. "Well, I guess your extra special senses must be a little off now since you've stopped with this whole blind act, huh. I could've slit your throat in the time it took for you to notice I was already in here. ...You know, if I did stuff like that."
Pasupata just stares at him, not really able to process where all of this weird hostility is coming from. He shakes his head, trying to ground himself, to focus on the reason he came here in the first place. "Nataraja, look, I..." He swallows as Nataraja brushes past him to light one of the oil lamps lining the wall in the corner of the room. "I didn't come here to argue with you," he finishes, watching as Nataraja lights a small candle too, the combination of this and the lamp finally giving the room some proper light.
"Well, that's a relief," Nataraja says sarcastically, glaring forward, but not looking at Pasupata directly.
Pasupata takes a long look at Nataraja, his posture is so tense--shoulders high, jaw tight, and there are wide, dark circles under his eyes. He looks tired--exhausted, really--but it's more than that... Pasupata approaches him, reaching his fingers out instinctively towards his friend.
"Look, I--" He starts, but cuts himself off when Nataraja flinches as his fingers barely brush his shoulder.
"Stop it," Nataraja says defensively when Pasupata reaches out again. "Just stop it. This is over now."
Pasupata blinks. "What's over?"
"This. Everything."
"You're still my friend, Nataraja."
"I was never your friend."
"Okay, you know what," he snaps. "I'm going to level with you." Pasupata is mad now, more mad than he thinks he's ever been at his friend, which is saying something, because the guy has really been pissing him off lately. "First of all, whether we're still friends, or whatever, that's not up to you to decide on your own." He stalks up to Nataraja, drawing himself up to his full height, and pokes him in the arm. "Okay? I don't know what's going on with you these past few days, but what I do know is that I still want to be your friend--none of that has changed."
"You're a liar."
Pasupata sighs. "I know that. And I want to explain. That's why I came here."
"You already explained, Pasupata, I get it."
"No, you don't."
"You pretended to be blind to 'save' me, this poor little thief you thought you could change for the better, right? Well, you can't. I'm not any different than I was then, and I never will be. Do you get it? You were wrong about me. And now that everything's all out in the open, I really wish you and Shiva would just leave me alone. Is that so hard to understand?"
Pasupata stares at his friend for a second, and then... He can't help it, he laughs. Not at Nataraja, but at the ridiculousness of this whole misunderstanding. He supposes it's to be expected--you can't lie to someone for this long and expect the consequences of that to go away in an instant, but... It's still a bit funny, all the same, how Nataraja could be so wrong and not even realize it.
"I never wanted to change you, Nataraja," he says quietly. "And I didn't do what I did that night for the reasons you think I did. At least not entirely."
"I don't want to hear this." And Nataraja is pacing now, back and forth in front of Pasupata's field of vision and it's kind of driving him crazy, this blur of fabric and crazy hair that doesn't look like it's been brushed in days.
Pasupata grabs Nataraja's wrist on his next pass and forces him to stop, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him, hard, just to get him to look at him, to really look at him, because now that he can, he really wants to look Nataraja in the eye, wants to really see him. He wants to be seen too; he wants to make that connection, and he hasn't been able to over the last few days since all of this has come out, because... Well, because Nataraja has been hiding from him, the bastard. He looks into Nataraja's eyes now, searching, trying to make him understand.
"I didn't pretend to be blind to protect you, okay? I did it to protect myself. It was a split-second decision that I made to survive. I didn't want you to leave me there, so I did what I had to do. That's it, okay? I'm just as bad as you. So you can stop feeling bad for yourself now and just... be mad at me instead, or something." He lets go of his friend's shoulders, and is a little relieved when Nataraja doesn't move, and just continues to stare down at him.
"What?" Pasupata snaps finally, when a full minute has passed and Nataraja is still staring down at him, still not saying a word.
Nataraja blinks. "Sorry. It's just... Your eyes..."
Pasupata lets out an uncomfortable laugh. "Yeah, sorry. It'll probably take a while to get used to, right?"
Nataraja shakes his head. "No, it's not that, it's just..."
Pasupata blinks, starting to get a little annoyed at the lack of a reaction to what he felt was a pretty heartfelt admission. "What? Just spit it out already."
"You just... You have really pretty eyes. I never realized it until now," Nataraja says, sounding a little confused, and almost, well, affectionate would be the word Pasupata would use.
"I... Well..." He clears his throat. "Thanks?"
"And I know," Nataraja continues.
"What?"
"I know it wasn't about protecting me that night. I mean, why would it be, you didn't know me from...well, from any of the other kids on the street back then."
"Oh." And that's all Pasupata can really think of to say to that, because, well... That was just...that, really. As far as his big confession went, that was all he had, so... He really wasn't sure where this left them.
"I know at first, at least that wasn't it, but... I..." Nataraja sinks down to the floor now, exhaustion finally catching up to him. "I can't help feeling like I disappointed you. More than that. I betrayed you. Shiva. Everyone. I'm not the person you think I am."
"I know who you are," Pasupata says confidently, taking a seat next to Nataraja, leaning back up against the wall, and handing a cushion to his friend, who reluctantly shoves it behind his back, frowning. "I know you don't believe me, but I do. Shiva too. We're your friends. We know you. We know your faults too, but that doesn't change anything. So you saved me back then because you saw an opportunity? I let you save me for the same reason. We're even."
Nataraja doesn't say anything, and Pasupata is quiet too. For a long time they sit there, staring forward into the dimly lit room, as the light dances across the far wall, flickering patterns that seem to ebb and flow with their breath, with their energy.
The candle in the far corner of the room snuffs out eventually, and with it comes a cloying scent of rose, and cedar, and as Pasupata watches the puff of smoke rise slowly, tiny tendrils of grey snaking up to the ceiling, he reaches for Nataraja's hand, finding it easily, years of practice proving to be worth something after all.
Nataraja tenses a little at the contact, but he doesn't say anything, just closes his eyes, squeezing Pasupata's hand tightly. He relaxes after a moment, but Pasupata doesn't let go. He rubs his thumb over the pad of Nataraja's hand slowly, not really sure what he's doing, but knowing that he really doesn't want to stop, because after all of the confusion and the separation that he's been feeling over the past few days since all of this came out, he's just happy to feel close to his best friend again.
"So you really meant that about my eyes?" Pasupata says eventually, after the light from the lamp has all but faded away to nothing, leaving them in relative darkness.
Nataraja's fingers flex a little under Pasupata's as his friend laughs. "I guess so, yeah."
"No one's ever said anything like that to me before," Pasupata observes, curious.
"Of course they haven't," Nataraja says with a tight little laugh.
"Right."
"I bet they will now though."
Pasupata tightens his grip on his friend's hand. "So what?"
"So you better get used to hearing it."
"I'm fine if it's just you," he says quietly, honestly, then laughs a little. "I don't know about anyone else though."
Nataraja laughs too, and for a few seconds they're both laughing together, deep and honest and free, and it almost feels like it used to, before all of this, and Pasupata slides over a little closer to Nataraja, so that he can feel the warmth of his friend's body next to him, and then he rests his head on Nataraja's shoulder lightly. He's thinking that he should get up, should head back to his quarters--it's late, and obviously Nataraja needs to get some rest--but he just can't make his body cooperate. Things feel a little better between them, but part of him is still afraid that if he walks out of this room, if he breaks this contact, he might not ever see Nataraja again. He knows it's probably irrational, but all the same, he just can't shake the feeling.
He does let go of Nataraja's hand though--he doesn't know where to put it now that the space between them is gone--and he's surprised when his friend grabs his fingers again quickly, wrapping long fingers around his palm, and then sets both of their hands to rest just above Pasupata's knee.
Nataraja's hand is warm, and the pads of his fingers are calloused, rough. Pasupata can't help but realize now how much larger Nataraja's hands are than his own too. It feels good like this though, Nataraja's hand covering his own, warm and solid, like maybe things will be okay again, if they stay like this just a little longer.
"So you're sure you're okay calling it even with a guy like me?" Nataraja says quietly, and Pasupata finds himself grinning in the darkness. His stomach does a tiny flip too, when Nataraja squeezes his hand, turning his palm over and locking their fingers together tightly.
He probably squeezes Nataraja's hand back hard enough to leave marks behind, but he really doesn't care.
"Yeah, I think I can manage."
***
Author: analine
Pairing: Nataraja/Pasupata (Tuti and Nagayan's Maharaja Mode counterparts ^_~)
Warnings: None, completely worksafe
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~2000
Summary: Pasupata wants to make Nataraja understand.
Notes: My take on why Pasupata did what he did the night Nataraja saved him from the fire. It takes place a few days after the end of the play, in that sort of uncertain period where they're both still getting over learning each other's secrets? And this is totally...an experiment, my first time writing these characters, so... I hope it works? XD;; (And if you need a refresher on the details of the play (like I did ^_~) the info is right here.)
For fencer_x, because without her amazing summary of this play (and the wonderful fic she's written for these two already) I wouldn't have been able to even attempt this. <3
Pasupata jumps in the semi-darkness of Nataraja's chambers, startled at the sound of his friend's voice coming out of what he really thought had been an empty room. He closes his eyes and lets out a sigh.
"Geez, you scared me!" he says, squinting into the room, trying to figure out where Nataraja's voice is coming from. "What are you doing?"
"What are you doing? These were my chambers, last I checked," Nataraja huffs, pushing past Pasupata awkwardly as he stumbles out of wherever it was he was hiding.
Pasupata eyes his friend suspiciously. "What, and I'm not allowed to come check up on you?"
"Check up on me?" Nataraja sounds affronted. "I don't need that from you."
"I'm not saying you need--"
Nataraja holds up a hand dismissively. "You never answered me. What were you planning to do in here? Hide in the closet or something? Spy on me?"
Pasupata lowers his eyes, feeling a bit affronted himself now. "I was going to wait for you to get back, what do you think? How was I supposed to know you'd be sitting in here in the dark?"
Nataraja scoffs. "Well, I guess your extra special senses must be a little off now since you've stopped with this whole blind act, huh. I could've slit your throat in the time it took for you to notice I was already in here. ...You know, if I did stuff like that."
Pasupata just stares at him, not really able to process where all of this weird hostility is coming from. He shakes his head, trying to ground himself, to focus on the reason he came here in the first place. "Nataraja, look, I..." He swallows as Nataraja brushes past him to light one of the oil lamps lining the wall in the corner of the room. "I didn't come here to argue with you," he finishes, watching as Nataraja lights a small candle too, the combination of this and the lamp finally giving the room some proper light.
"Well, that's a relief," Nataraja says sarcastically, glaring forward, but not looking at Pasupata directly.
Pasupata takes a long look at Nataraja, his posture is so tense--shoulders high, jaw tight, and there are wide, dark circles under his eyes. He looks tired--exhausted, really--but it's more than that... Pasupata approaches him, reaching his fingers out instinctively towards his friend.
"Look, I--" He starts, but cuts himself off when Nataraja flinches as his fingers barely brush his shoulder.
"Stop it," Nataraja says defensively when Pasupata reaches out again. "Just stop it. This is over now."
Pasupata blinks. "What's over?"
"This. Everything."
"You're still my friend, Nataraja."
"I was never your friend."
"Okay, you know what," he snaps. "I'm going to level with you." Pasupata is mad now, more mad than he thinks he's ever been at his friend, which is saying something, because the guy has really been pissing him off lately. "First of all, whether we're still friends, or whatever, that's not up to you to decide on your own." He stalks up to Nataraja, drawing himself up to his full height, and pokes him in the arm. "Okay? I don't know what's going on with you these past few days, but what I do know is that I still want to be your friend--none of that has changed."
"You're a liar."
Pasupata sighs. "I know that. And I want to explain. That's why I came here."
"You already explained, Pasupata, I get it."
"No, you don't."
"You pretended to be blind to 'save' me, this poor little thief you thought you could change for the better, right? Well, you can't. I'm not any different than I was then, and I never will be. Do you get it? You were wrong about me. And now that everything's all out in the open, I really wish you and Shiva would just leave me alone. Is that so hard to understand?"
Pasupata stares at his friend for a second, and then... He can't help it, he laughs. Not at Nataraja, but at the ridiculousness of this whole misunderstanding. He supposes it's to be expected--you can't lie to someone for this long and expect the consequences of that to go away in an instant, but... It's still a bit funny, all the same, how Nataraja could be so wrong and not even realize it.
"I never wanted to change you, Nataraja," he says quietly. "And I didn't do what I did that night for the reasons you think I did. At least not entirely."
"I don't want to hear this." And Nataraja is pacing now, back and forth in front of Pasupata's field of vision and it's kind of driving him crazy, this blur of fabric and crazy hair that doesn't look like it's been brushed in days.
Pasupata grabs Nataraja's wrist on his next pass and forces him to stop, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him, hard, just to get him to look at him, to really look at him, because now that he can, he really wants to look Nataraja in the eye, wants to really see him. He wants to be seen too; he wants to make that connection, and he hasn't been able to over the last few days since all of this has come out, because... Well, because Nataraja has been hiding from him, the bastard. He looks into Nataraja's eyes now, searching, trying to make him understand.
"I didn't pretend to be blind to protect you, okay? I did it to protect myself. It was a split-second decision that I made to survive. I didn't want you to leave me there, so I did what I had to do. That's it, okay? I'm just as bad as you. So you can stop feeling bad for yourself now and just... be mad at me instead, or something." He lets go of his friend's shoulders, and is a little relieved when Nataraja doesn't move, and just continues to stare down at him.
"What?" Pasupata snaps finally, when a full minute has passed and Nataraja is still staring down at him, still not saying a word.
Nataraja blinks. "Sorry. It's just... Your eyes..."
Pasupata lets out an uncomfortable laugh. "Yeah, sorry. It'll probably take a while to get used to, right?"
Nataraja shakes his head. "No, it's not that, it's just..."
Pasupata blinks, starting to get a little annoyed at the lack of a reaction to what he felt was a pretty heartfelt admission. "What? Just spit it out already."
"You just... You have really pretty eyes. I never realized it until now," Nataraja says, sounding a little confused, and almost, well, affectionate would be the word Pasupata would use.
"I... Well..." He clears his throat. "Thanks?"
"And I know," Nataraja continues.
"What?"
"I know it wasn't about protecting me that night. I mean, why would it be, you didn't know me from...well, from any of the other kids on the street back then."
"Oh." And that's all Pasupata can really think of to say to that, because, well... That was just...that, really. As far as his big confession went, that was all he had, so... He really wasn't sure where this left them.
"I know at first, at least that wasn't it, but... I..." Nataraja sinks down to the floor now, exhaustion finally catching up to him. "I can't help feeling like I disappointed you. More than that. I betrayed you. Shiva. Everyone. I'm not the person you think I am."
"I know who you are," Pasupata says confidently, taking a seat next to Nataraja, leaning back up against the wall, and handing a cushion to his friend, who reluctantly shoves it behind his back, frowning. "I know you don't believe me, but I do. Shiva too. We're your friends. We know you. We know your faults too, but that doesn't change anything. So you saved me back then because you saw an opportunity? I let you save me for the same reason. We're even."
Nataraja doesn't say anything, and Pasupata is quiet too. For a long time they sit there, staring forward into the dimly lit room, as the light dances across the far wall, flickering patterns that seem to ebb and flow with their breath, with their energy.
The candle in the far corner of the room snuffs out eventually, and with it comes a cloying scent of rose, and cedar, and as Pasupata watches the puff of smoke rise slowly, tiny tendrils of grey snaking up to the ceiling, he reaches for Nataraja's hand, finding it easily, years of practice proving to be worth something after all.
Nataraja tenses a little at the contact, but he doesn't say anything, just closes his eyes, squeezing Pasupata's hand tightly. He relaxes after a moment, but Pasupata doesn't let go. He rubs his thumb over the pad of Nataraja's hand slowly, not really sure what he's doing, but knowing that he really doesn't want to stop, because after all of the confusion and the separation that he's been feeling over the past few days since all of this came out, he's just happy to feel close to his best friend again.
"So you really meant that about my eyes?" Pasupata says eventually, after the light from the lamp has all but faded away to nothing, leaving them in relative darkness.
Nataraja's fingers flex a little under Pasupata's as his friend laughs. "I guess so, yeah."
"No one's ever said anything like that to me before," Pasupata observes, curious.
"Of course they haven't," Nataraja says with a tight little laugh.
"Right."
"I bet they will now though."
Pasupata tightens his grip on his friend's hand. "So what?"
"So you better get used to hearing it."
"I'm fine if it's just you," he says quietly, honestly, then laughs a little. "I don't know about anyone else though."
Nataraja laughs too, and for a few seconds they're both laughing together, deep and honest and free, and it almost feels like it used to, before all of this, and Pasupata slides over a little closer to Nataraja, so that he can feel the warmth of his friend's body next to him, and then he rests his head on Nataraja's shoulder lightly. He's thinking that he should get up, should head back to his quarters--it's late, and obviously Nataraja needs to get some rest--but he just can't make his body cooperate. Things feel a little better between them, but part of him is still afraid that if he walks out of this room, if he breaks this contact, he might not ever see Nataraja again. He knows it's probably irrational, but all the same, he just can't shake the feeling.
He does let go of Nataraja's hand though--he doesn't know where to put it now that the space between them is gone--and he's surprised when his friend grabs his fingers again quickly, wrapping long fingers around his palm, and then sets both of their hands to rest just above Pasupata's knee.
Nataraja's hand is warm, and the pads of his fingers are calloused, rough. Pasupata can't help but realize now how much larger Nataraja's hands are than his own too. It feels good like this though, Nataraja's hand covering his own, warm and solid, like maybe things will be okay again, if they stay like this just a little longer.
"So you're sure you're okay calling it even with a guy like me?" Nataraja says quietly, and Pasupata finds himself grinning in the darkness. His stomach does a tiny flip too, when Nataraja squeezes his hand, turning his palm over and locking their fingers together tightly.
He probably squeezes Nataraja's hand back hard enough to leave marks behind, but he really doesn't care.
"Yeah, I think I can manage."
***