"So I guessed," Caleb replies. His eyes have been soft for Yussa since he entered the room, but his expression cracks open entirely when he sees the shift in Yussa's, his smile growing wide and fond.
Yussa's delicate touch turns his unresisting face side to side, displaying his carefully trimmed beard and glossy auburn hair pulled back neatly. He even wears a spritz of cologne, scented with amber and cedarwood--a gift from Jester, which means it may have originated in Nicodranas in the first place.
"Well? Do I pass muster?" he asks, and catches Yussa's hand with his own to bring his fingers to his lips, blue eyes dancing as he kisses them.
That he can improve Yussa's mood at once with his mere presence is a power he didn't know he possessed, but perhaps should have. Learning of it makes him happy, at any rate.
The scent is subtle, just present and appealing enough that Yussa feels the urge to lean closer to chase it. It's a very good cologne, and the scent notes suit Caleb. Yussa's thumb strokes lightly over the younger man's chin before Caleb catches his hand to kiss his fingertips. The gesture earns a warmer look.
"Yes, you'll do," he affirms with quiet affection. "Come, I want to be sure your new things don't need any further alterations."
He knows there is plenty of time yet, but the laws of the universe state that of they put it off too long something will need to be hemmed or adjusted. As much as Yussa would rather bask in Caleb's affection, wardrobe first. Reluctantly, Yussa moves toward the open door and gestures for Caleb to follow. The archmage eventually opens the door to a familiar room: the bedroom that served as Caleb's before Yussa invited him into his most private quarters. The room as shifted subtly on each of Caleb's stays to include comforts specific to Caleb. Hanging on the door of the wardrobe are his new clothes.
In an endless cycle, Yussa's quiet but clear affection only serves to make Caleb even more smitten. It must show in his face, because he couldn't possibly contain it in his heart alone. It swells forth in his smile, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners, and the sparkle in them that is only for Yussa.
"Sehr gut. I strive for adequacy," he jokes, and stands to follow his lover. It has been a little while since he's used the guest bedroom; so long, in fact, that it feels slightly nostalgic. He spies the outfit hung on the wardrobe at once, and though he knew what he was in for, somehow seeing it in person overwhelms him all over again. Wide-eyed, he approaches slowly, as though the dark, gold-embellished jacket warrants as much caution as an unbroken moorbounder.
"Oh, Yussa," he half whispers, and reaches out to tentatively touch a sleeve, rubbing it between thumb and forefinger to feel the weave of the material. "This is all very fine."
The jacket alone must have cost more than his parents made in a year. He is still a farmer's boy at heart, and he has spent more of his adult life counting every copper as a dirty beggar than he has as an adventurer or a professor, someone with a home and a modest income. He still balks at pricey purchases for anything but arcane supplies, and feels more than a little out of place when he considers wearing something so lovely. It is hard to imagine it suiting him.
Of course, he is too smart to say any of this aloud, though Yussa will no doubt be able to interpret a great deal from his strained expression. He might feel like it is too fine for him, but he would never dare be ungrateful, or imply that anything chosen for him by Yussa would not suit him. He swallows these feelings both metaphorically and literally.
"Danke schΓΆn." The words are soft, but almost painfully heartfelt, his gaze almost shy as he meets the other wizard's eye. Perhaps this gift is a trifle for Yussa, a whim he'd indulged, but for Caleb it is far from it.
Though a different cut, there are similarities between the new outfit and the one Yussa had seen before. The jacket is a deep blue, something that will pick up the color of Caleb's eyes. The fabric is sturdy enough to keep the wearer warm should they step outside onto a balcony or terrace in the chilly Rexxentrum evening, but light enough and breathable enough that it won't be uncomfortable in a warm ballroom. Beneath is a long, embroidered waistcoat - the embroidery is clearly based on traditional Zemnian patterns. There is a simple shirt beneath it, a final layer that won't really be seen. The trousers are dark and there is a pair of sturdy but comfortable knee-high boots to complete the look.
"I tried to keep in mind what you might be most comfortable in," he says as he watches Caleb examine the clothes. He can read the discomfort in the younger man's expression; Yussa moves closer, his robes whispering across the floor as he does.
"And then attempted to strike a balance between that and what occasions like this call for."
He reaches for Caleb's face and uses just his fingertips to coax his lover to look at him. Even if the cost of this is negligible to him, he knows the weight a gift like this carries for Caleb.
"I will not have someone with your talent and skill ignored or written off simply because you would prefer to spend your money and attention on other things. Unfortunately, with power comes pretention. It is a petty game, but it is still one you must play."
His thumb strokes gently along the line of Caleb's jaw. If only it didn't matter what he wore, but on occasions like this it does. Neither of them can change that, but Yussa can - and will - level the playing field. A faint smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.
"Consider this my support of your professional development."
The lightest touch from Yussa guides Caleb easily. His head turns and his face tilts down, and he meets the older wizard's understanding gaze without flinching. There was a time when that would not have been the case. He takes a long, shaky breath, and nods once.
"I am grateful to have a friend so willing and able to lend me his support," he says, quiet and sincere. "In this and so many other ways, I would be lost without your guidance."
Leaning down, his nose brushes Yussa's cheekbone before his lips touch his cheek, leaving a soft, appreciative kiss there. He feels so cared for by this man. Yussa wants him to succeed, insistent on making up for what Caleb lacks, or has far more limited access to. Still, the notion that he must repay this somehow lingers, even knowing that he means far more to Yussa than the cost of a single set of formalwear.
In any case, he would much rather remain with his lover tonight than attend this damned party, but that would be squandering his gift.
"I should probably try it on now, ja?" he suggests with a small, tight smile. He is grateful that Yussa has landed on a relatively simple design, taking his tastes into account. Caleb's worry that he'll look in the mirror and not recognize himself hasn't vanished completely, but it does seem less likely.
"I do not think you would be lost, Master Widogast. But perhaps it would take you longer to get to the places you wish to go."
He has no illusions about the help he has and hasn't provided to this very promising mage. Yussa cannot claim his interest is pure or altruistic, but he has never made that claim about any of his motivations. Caleb is intelligent, sharp, and motivated. It would be a blow to all arcane practice to have his talent wasted. And Yussa is very fond of him.
He gently pats Caleb's cheek before he draws his hand away.
"Yes, please. Let me see it on you so that I can be sure it doesn't need further alterations." He isn't overly worried - he'd been very, very precise in the measurements he gave the tailor. The clothes should fit well, and comfortably.
Rather than leaving the room, Yussa sits on the edge of the bed, apparently intent on watching Caleb undress and dress again. They've seen each other in far more compromised states, he can hardly imagine Caleb would feel any reticence now.
Caleb has undressed in far worse places in front of far more people. He doesn't hesitate to remove the simple clothes he'd arrived in piece by piece, conscious of Yussa's gaze on him. Overly conscious, maybe, but in a good way. It's nice to be admired. Knowing that Yussa likes looking at him fills his belly with heat.
Facing the open wardrobe, he removes his boots, then hangs his book holster on the door and tugs his shirt over his head. He opens his trousers deftly and pushes them down his thighs, keeping only his smalls and his woolen socks.
He examines each piece of this new outfit before putting any part of it on, learning in what order and what they fit together. Despite the embellishments it is all quite straightforward, thankfully, which is how he prefers his clothes to be. Redressing happens in the opposite order, until finally he is sliding the jacket over his shoulders and turning to Yussa as he secures the buttons hidden on the inside. All of it fits well enough to him, which is to say that he can move naturally in it, and it is neither sliding off him nor too tight. But he is no tailoring expert.
"How is it?" he asks, looking up from his buttons to find Yussa on the edge of the bed. "What you expected?"
Yussa allows himself the indulgence of admiring Caleb as the younger man changes clothes. A part of him itches to help in dressing him again, but it's best that Caleb know how to put it on himself - he will surely have other occasions to wear it.
His golden gaze is soft and warm when Caleb turns to him.
But when Caleb seeks his approval, Yussa clears his throat and slides off the bed so that he might inspect the clothes now that they're on the man they're meant for. His gaze bears more scrutiny as he tugs here and there, ensuring that the clothes fall as they should. The colors bring out the bright blue of Caleb's eyes. When he's satisfied, he stands in front of Caleb again.
"They suit you," he says with a gentle smile. "Are they comfortable?"
He would guess by the way Caleb moves in them that he isn't uncomfortable, but it can't hurt to be certain. He will be uncomfortable enough beneath the scrutiny of others: Yussa hopes these clothes can be a shield.
Caleb stands obediently still as Yussa makes his minor adjustments, settling everything where it should be. He smiles, somewhere between bashful and giddy. Of course they suit him; Yussa picked them, and he would not choose wrongly. "They are pretty good. The shoulders may be a little tight." (The shoulders are perfectly fine; he's just never owned a jacket made to fit him before.)
The color is beautiful, and makes for a striking contrast with his hair, from what he can see. He wonders if he should, perhaps, wear it down tonight for a change. He'll solicit Yussa's opinion on that as well.
"Do you like it?" By it he means him, and how he looks in these clothes that feel far too fine for him, but he shies away from asking outright.
Yussa lifts his gaze to meet Caleb's as he says: "Yes. I like it very much."
Which is to say, he likes Caleb in the clothes. Yussa's fingers brush affectionately along the his cheek, admiring his neatly trimmed beard. Caleb is an attractive young man and Yussa, stoic though he can be, is not immune to his physical charms or his endearing mannerisms. His hand drops to brush absently over Caleb's shoulder, as if to ensure the jacket isn't too tight. It isn't, of course.
"I certainly won't feel as though we are mismatched when we arrive," he adds lightly, as if that announcement is of no consequence. "How much time do we have before we must depart?"
Arriving on time - or fashionably late - will not be an issue. Even if they cannot teleport directly onto the Academy grounds, Yussa knows they can get very close.
Gods, Caleb is so happy he could melt on the spot. With affection and admiration in his gaze, Yussa makes him feel precious and beautiful in a way that is rare for him. He recognizes it like an echo across time; Eadwulf used to make him feel this way when he would watch him with a quiet smile or tell him he looked good.
As ever, the memories are bittersweet. But with Yussa before him, he isn't distracted by them for long. He couldn't be, when Yussa casually proclaims something so perplexing. Confusion writ over his face, he answers the question by rote as his mind hurries to process the context.
"I--as a professor, I have access to teleport directly, so about two hours, but--"
He hadn't expected this. Not for a moment. He had absolutely no reason to. Yussa hates parties, hates getting caught in the tangled strings of Assembly business, and only rarely leaves his tower at all. So why would Caleb think going as his plus-one to an Academy event would appeal to him whatsoever?
Yussa peers up at his lover with a look that could only be called coy before he turns away. There's a brief flick of his fingers over his shoulders: an invitation (or instruction) for Caleb to follow.
"I wasn't going to send you into the pit of snakes alone," he says lightly, as if it were a foregone conclusion. "And I wish to see how your new clothes are received."
The latter explanation is the weaker of the two. As much as he wishes to see Caleb wearing the clothes, he wants to provide the support of his presence. People can look at him, if they need to look at anyone. And besides, it's been a while since he ruffled any feathers in Rexxentrum: what better way than to arrive on the arm of their most unexpected inquisitor?
Yussa makes his way up through the tower. The next door he opens is the one that leads to his private chambers; he leaves it open for Caleb as he sweeps inside.
The elven mage sits at a table lined with small containers and brushes. Yussa examines himself in the mirror there, turning his head one way, then the other. His fingers brush across the line of his cheek, then down his neck before elegantly plucking up the first brush. Yussa applies his makeup with the ease and confidence of practice. He lines his eyes and applies gold shadow; his lips, too, are painted gold with precise care.
Caleb's expression transmutes from surprise to baffled, amazed relief. He can practically see Yussa preening for having kept this part of his gift a secret all this time. That coy look isn't only sexy, it is endearing.
"Yussa, I--I cannot tell you how glad I am," he insists earnestly, but keeps the rest of what he might say to himself for the moment.
As if on a lead, Caleb needs no more than that small gesture to follow, like the obedient boy he is. He is near glowing with pride. Yussa is going to come with him, which means that Yussa will not only tolerate this event and these people for his sake, but that he is happy to be seen by them on Caleb's arm. To very publically convey his support, and perhaps even, to some extent, his affection. This is far, far beyond anything he could have expected or hoped for.
Trailing Yussa into his bedroom, he opts to continue standing, mindful of wrinkling his new clothes. Perhaps needlessly mindful, with prestidigitation at his fingertips, but it is a matter of respect for what Yussa has given him. He lingers several paces back from the table where Yussa has settled like an artist at an easel. He can see him in the mirror, first examining his fine features, then beginning to accentuate them with shimmering gold applied by a steady hand. Caleb is enthralled, oddly aroused, and flattered that he has been invited to observe this very intimate ritual.
Yussa has both vision and skill. His bare face with its sharp, handsome features is already striking, but he makes himself eye-catching in another way. Caleb openly admires him. He remains a quiet and attentive witness, dedicating Yussa the attention he deserves, and can't help imagining those painted gold lips sliding against his.
Yussa is methodical in applying his makeup, thorough but not heavy-handed. By the time he's finished, he's a sharper version of himself, accented in gold and black. He drinks in Caleb's admiration and affection: that alone is worth the effort. Yussa chooses jewelry carefully from an open box, adding earrings and cuffs.
That done, Yussa rises and moves toward the cedar wardrobe holding many of his clothes. Without effort, he shrugs out of the robe he's wearing to reveal the outfit waiting beneath.
It is relatively conservative from the back, but from the front it features a plunging neckline and tailoring to show more of Yussa's shape. The sweeping sleeves add to the structure and its clear the entire look is designed to draw attention as well as mitigate it: very little of him is actually exposed. Yussa returns to a full length mirror to examine himself. Like in the vanity, he turns one way and then another, as if looking for a flaw. There are none, of course. This will be his armor as much as anything, and he will use it to shield and to bolster Caleb as much as he can.
He peers at Caleb through the mirror and lifts a brow, silently inviting a response.
Caleb might have remained speechless if not for that prompt. He has never seen Yussa look less than gorgeous, but tonight he is resplendent. He takes a full breath now for the first time since the robe slipped from his shoulders and revealed what he has been wearing beneath, and shakes his head with a soft, incredulous sigh. How could he have prepared himself for this? It feels like he stepped into a dream the moment he finished putting on this jacket. This life can't possibly be his. But when he steps forward and frames Yussa's waist with his hands, he feels real. He can feel the texture of the gown against his palms, and beneath, the warmth of his skin. He leans down over his shoulder to kiss his cheek, then glances up to lock eyes in the mirror again, and smiles.
"You are radiant," he murmurs, and his hands shift as his arms wrap around Yussa's petite form more tightly, embracing him from behind. "I thought I was coming here to pick up clothes, not..." He shakes his head. "Not the man whose company is going to make me the envy of all of Rexxentrum tonight."
Looking at their reflections together, Caleb has to admit that they are an eye-catching pair. Yussa has clearly coordinated their outfits; the parts of his jacket that are gold match Yussa's gown perfectly. That is a bold statement to make, and Caleb's emotions are a tangle of gratitude, pride, love, disbelief, desire, and more, too much to tease apart.
"Thank you. That you would do this for me..." Bowing his head, he noses behind the other man's long elven ear, against his neck. "I was dreading this night for many reasons, but you have changed that completely."
Yussa smiles indulgently as Caleb wraps his arms around him. He enjoys the contact and their appearance in the mirror. He watches the feelings play over Caleb's face and his hand rests over his lover's arm. He turns his head toward the younger man as Caleb nuzzles close.
"I am glad that I could turn it around so quickly," he says gently. "Your work is important, and this part sounds very tedious for you. So I will do what I can to make your evening... more enjoyable. Or at least somewhat easier."
He will go as Caleb's guest, and the hand-wringing directors of the Academy and the sharper eyes of the Cerberus Assembly can deal with his presence as someone who is not connected to either of their institutions.
"I will follow your lead if you like," he adds. His intention tonight is to bolster Caleb. Yussa reaches back to gently catch Caleb's cheek, guiding him so that he can give him a kiss.
"Should I put on anything else?" he asks as he peers at them in the mirror again.
Caleb manages an achingly grateful smile before they kiss. Yussa understands him and his position well. He knows what his open support is worth on both a personal and political level. This is so much more than Caleb would ever have asked of him, even after their conversation about asking for what he wants. Even offering to follow his lead is generous.
"Earrings," he suggests fondly, and lightly kisses the pointed tip of Yussa's nearest ear. "And, ah--perhaps you could help me with one more thing?"
This is an entirely spur of the moment request. He feels strangely nervous asking, face warming with a reflexive flush, but he has already gotten this far. He lifts a hand from around Yussa and taps his face beneath his own eye to indicate what he's talking about: makeup. "Just a little bit, maybe, if you think it would look decent? Nothing flashy. A gold lip would probably not suit me as it does you." He catches the eye of Yussa's reflection again and smiles, soft and wry. "I trust your judgement."
There is nothing to be apprehensive about, Caleb reminds himself. Plenty of men regularly wear makeup, and wear it well, Yussa included. It's just that he has never been one of them. But perhaps this is a night to be daring and try something new--even if it is only a little kohl around his eyes or a dusting of shimmering powder over his cheekbones.
Yussa is about to turn his attention toward one of his jewelry boxes when Caleb catches his attention. He peers at his lover, golden eyes bright as he considers the shy request. He moves over on the bench and pats the spot next to him.
"Sit," he says gently. "Straddle the bench, facing me. I will tend you in just a moment."
He pulls a box closer and chooses a pair of long gold drop earrings, then a few other pieces, including one with a delicate chain linking two star-shaped studs. Satisfied with his decoration, he pushes the box away and carefully chooses a few pots of makeup. He turns to face Caleb, one leg folded across the bench as he studies his lover's face.
He plucks up a thin brush and drags it lightly through his kohl.
As ever, Caleb is quick to follow Yussa's instructions. He sits as directed and waits patiently while the other man picks through his jewelry and selects several elegant pieces. They are just the finishing touch needed. Caleb's breath catches in his chest when Yussa turns toward him, faced with the full effect of every part of his ensemble pulled together.
"You are going to be taking my breath away all evening," he murmurs as his eyes slip closed, leaving himself entirely in Yussa's hands. He laces his fingers together between his knees so that he can fidget without obstructing anything.
As soon as the brush touches his face, it feels like a spell is being cast. Allowing his lover to paint on his skin is an entirely novel intimacy. He can feel how steady Yussa's hand is, the confidence with which he moves the brush. It was captivating to watch, and entrancing in a different way to experience. He dares not speak, or even breathe too deeply, lest a line go awry.
His curiosity about what he will look like will be satisfied soon enough. For now, he tries to appreciate the process.
Yussa is careful as he works. He uses a different brush to lightly smudge some of the liner along Caleb's eyelids after he applies it.
"Open your eyes, look up," he instructs softly, waiting for Caleb to do as he says. Applying the lower line requires a different kind of care, but Yussa is as efficient as ever. He smudges those too, though not as much, keeping the look more crisp. The kohl applied, he plucks up a different brush to add a sheen of gold powder at the inner corners of Caleb's eyes, sweeping up into the darker smudges on his eyelids.
He sits back to examine his work and makes a soft, satisfied sound. Caleb will not be the only one distracted all evening.
"Take a look, what do you think? It's easy to correct anything you don't like."
Yussa finds the look enchanting. Caleb's vivid blue eyes are made more so by the addition of the darker lines and it is impossible not to notice them with the attention drawn there. The flicker of gold adds interest - and ties him yet again to his companion for the evening - without being too flashy or overwhelming.
When Yussa is finished, it is clear he is pleased with his work, which helps Caleb's nerves quite a bit. With his heart thudding against his ribs, he turns toward the mirror when invited to see for himself.
"Oh," he breathes, and watches his own expression change with surprise. His eyes are darkly outlined, and there is a subtle shimmer of gold powder swiped up from the inner corners over his lids. Both serve to emphasize the blue of his eyes, which stands out even more starkly than usual. It is all very understated, far from a dramatic change, but to Caleb there is a clear difference.
Turning his face left and right, the gold powder catches the light. It does please him to match Yussa in yet another way. He turns to his lover almost shyly, reaching for his nearest hand to give it a gentle squeeze. "I think that I was right to trust you, as ever."
While he can't imagine wearing it often, for attending a special occasion with Yussa, it feels good to make a little extra effort. "It looks nice. Better than I expected. Thank you."
"Of course you were right to trust me. In matters of aesthetic and petty games among arcane practitioners, I have considerable experience." Yussa opens another box and, now that Caleb's makeup is done, he puts on the filigreed gold nail guards. He reaches up to gently drag the tips against Caleb's cheek and leans to give him a kiss. "I am for you tonight, Caleb Widogast. Whatever I can give, I will."
Another kiss with a smile lingering between them.
"But we should depart, I think. It is one thing to be fashionably late, another to disrupt the night's proceedings."
They should be seen arriving together rather than sneaking in after the festivities have started. Yussa rises slowly and absently smooths his clothes. He finds a cloak to wear, knowing the night air in Rexxentrum will be chilly to him, regardless of season. As much as he talks about being Caleb's armor tonight, he must don his own. He does not often attend social functions and that is by design. He knows his presence will make an impact given how elusive he is, and he is prepared to bear the brunt of it if he can. And there is a balance to find between bolstering the younger man and outshining him; he would prefer to avoid the latter.
He looks at himself in a floor-length mirror and takes a breath, then lets it go slowly. He is radiant. He will be the star in the deep blue of Caleb's sky.
"I am ready when you are," he says as he looks back at his lover.
Caleb knows little of these games, but is always prepared to learn--and he couldn't ask for a better teacher. His breath catches as Yussa rakes lightly down his cheek with the pointed tips of his nail guards, and makes a rather undignified noise against his mouth when he's kissed. When he'd expected to go alone tonight, it's overwhelming--wonderfully so--to have his lover making such promises.
But Yussa is correct, of course. While Caleb would have been perfectly happy to arrive late and slip in without notice if it were just him, circumstances have changed. Arriving with Yussa on his arm is a statement, but it only works if they're actually seen.
"Ja, we should go now, before I lose my nerve," he agrees with a tight smile. Admittedly, he is dreading this evening much less now that he'll have Yussa's company. He gets up from the bench he's been straddling, straightens out his jacket, and offers the older wizard his hand. "My hair looks okay worn down like this?" he checks, a last minute confirmation. Typically he pulls it back, but the red looks nice contrasted with the deep blue of his jacket.
Yussa reaches to touch Caleb's loose hair. "Yes, it does. Very fetching, in fact. Ah--"
He remembers a thing he's forgotten - he'd been distracted by doing Caleb's make up - and turns back toward his dressing table and a jewelry box. The nail guards are removed long enough for Yussa to put in earrings, since Caleb suggested them, and by the time he's finished his ears are decorated from lobe to tip. He slips his fingers back into the guards and rejoins Caleb.
"There, now I'm ready. You'll have to bring us there, sweet boy, as I most assuredly cannot teleport directly onto the grounds." A smirk plays across his golden lips. He's already alluded to the fact that he cannot (or will not) visit the Halls of Erudition.
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Yussa's delicate touch turns his unresisting face side to side, displaying his carefully trimmed beard and glossy auburn hair pulled back neatly. He even wears a spritz of cologne, scented with amber and cedarwood--a gift from Jester, which means it may have originated in Nicodranas in the first place.
"Well? Do I pass muster?" he asks, and catches Yussa's hand with his own to bring his fingers to his lips, blue eyes dancing as he kisses them.
That he can improve Yussa's mood at once with his mere presence is a power he didn't know he possessed, but perhaps should have. Learning of it makes him happy, at any rate.
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"Yes, you'll do," he affirms with quiet affection. "Come, I want to be sure your new things don't need any further alterations."
He knows there is plenty of time yet, but the laws of the universe state that of they put it off too long something will need to be hemmed or adjusted. As much as Yussa would rather bask in Caleb's affection, wardrobe first. Reluctantly, Yussa moves toward the open door and gestures for Caleb to follow. The archmage eventually opens the door to a familiar room: the bedroom that served as Caleb's before Yussa invited him into his most private quarters. The room as shifted subtly on each of Caleb's stays to include comforts specific to Caleb. Hanging on the door of the wardrobe are his new clothes.
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"Sehr gut. I strive for adequacy," he jokes, and stands to follow his lover. It has been a little while since he's used the guest bedroom; so long, in fact, that it feels slightly nostalgic. He spies the outfit hung on the wardrobe at once, and though he knew what he was in for, somehow seeing it in person overwhelms him all over again. Wide-eyed, he approaches slowly, as though the dark, gold-embellished jacket warrants as much caution as an unbroken moorbounder.
"Oh, Yussa," he half whispers, and reaches out to tentatively touch a sleeve, rubbing it between thumb and forefinger to feel the weave of the material. "This is all very fine."
The jacket alone must have cost more than his parents made in a year. He is still a farmer's boy at heart, and he has spent more of his adult life counting every copper as a dirty beggar than he has as an adventurer or a professor, someone with a home and a modest income. He still balks at pricey purchases for anything but arcane supplies, and feels more than a little out of place when he considers wearing something so lovely. It is hard to imagine it suiting him.
Of course, he is too smart to say any of this aloud, though Yussa will no doubt be able to interpret a great deal from his strained expression. He might feel like it is too fine for him, but he would never dare be ungrateful, or imply that anything chosen for him by Yussa would not suit him. He swallows these feelings both metaphorically and literally.
"Danke schΓΆn." The words are soft, but almost painfully heartfelt, his gaze almost shy as he meets the other wizard's eye. Perhaps this gift is a trifle for Yussa, a whim he'd indulged, but for Caleb it is far from it.
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"I tried to keep in mind what you might be most comfortable in," he says as he watches Caleb examine the clothes. He can read the discomfort in the younger man's expression; Yussa moves closer, his robes whispering across the floor as he does.
"And then attempted to strike a balance between that and what occasions like this call for."
He reaches for Caleb's face and uses just his fingertips to coax his lover to look at him. Even if the cost of this is negligible to him, he knows the weight a gift like this carries for Caleb.
"I will not have someone with your talent and skill ignored or written off simply because you would prefer to spend your money and attention on other things. Unfortunately, with power comes pretention. It is a petty game, but it is still one you must play."
His thumb strokes gently along the line of Caleb's jaw. If only it didn't matter what he wore, but on occasions like this it does. Neither of them can change that, but Yussa can - and will - level the playing field. A faint smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.
"Consider this my support of your professional development."
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"I am grateful to have a friend so willing and able to lend me his support," he says, quiet and sincere. "In this and so many other ways, I would be lost without your guidance."
Leaning down, his nose brushes Yussa's cheekbone before his lips touch his cheek, leaving a soft, appreciative kiss there. He feels so cared for by this man. Yussa wants him to succeed, insistent on making up for what Caleb lacks, or has far more limited access to. Still, the notion that he must repay this somehow lingers, even knowing that he means far more to Yussa than the cost of a single set of formalwear.
In any case, he would much rather remain with his lover tonight than attend this damned party, but that would be squandering his gift.
"I should probably try it on now, ja?" he suggests with a small, tight smile. He is grateful that Yussa has landed on a relatively simple design, taking his tastes into account. Caleb's worry that he'll look in the mirror and not recognize himself hasn't vanished completely, but it does seem less likely.
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He has no illusions about the help he has and hasn't provided to this very promising mage. Yussa cannot claim his interest is pure or altruistic, but he has never made that claim about any of his motivations. Caleb is intelligent, sharp, and motivated. It would be a blow to all arcane practice to have his talent wasted. And Yussa is very fond of him.
He gently pats Caleb's cheek before he draws his hand away.
"Yes, please. Let me see it on you so that I can be sure it doesn't need further alterations." He isn't overly worried - he'd been very, very precise in the measurements he gave the tailor. The clothes should fit well, and comfortably.
Rather than leaving the room, Yussa sits on the edge of the bed, apparently intent on watching Caleb undress and dress again. They've seen each other in far more compromised states, he can hardly imagine Caleb would feel any reticence now.
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Facing the open wardrobe, he removes his boots, then hangs his book holster on the door and tugs his shirt over his head. He opens his trousers deftly and pushes them down his thighs, keeping only his smalls and his woolen socks.
He examines each piece of this new outfit before putting any part of it on, learning in what order and what they fit together. Despite the embellishments it is all quite straightforward, thankfully, which is how he prefers his clothes to be. Redressing happens in the opposite order, until finally he is sliding the jacket over his shoulders and turning to Yussa as he secures the buttons hidden on the inside. All of it fits well enough to him, which is to say that he can move naturally in it, and it is neither sliding off him nor too tight. But he is no tailoring expert.
"How is it?" he asks, looking up from his buttons to find Yussa on the edge of the bed. "What you expected?"
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His golden gaze is soft and warm when Caleb turns to him.
But when Caleb seeks his approval, Yussa clears his throat and slides off the bed so that he might inspect the clothes now that they're on the man they're meant for. His gaze bears more scrutiny as he tugs here and there, ensuring that the clothes fall as they should. The colors bring out the bright blue of Caleb's eyes. When he's satisfied, he stands in front of Caleb again.
"They suit you," he says with a gentle smile. "Are they comfortable?"
He would guess by the way Caleb moves in them that he isn't uncomfortable, but it can't hurt to be certain. He will be uncomfortable enough beneath the scrutiny of others: Yussa hopes these clothes can be a shield.
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The color is beautiful, and makes for a striking contrast with his hair, from what he can see. He wonders if he should, perhaps, wear it down tonight for a change. He'll solicit Yussa's opinion on that as well.
"Do you like it?" By it he means him, and how he looks in these clothes that feel far too fine for him, but he shies away from asking outright.
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Which is to say, he likes Caleb in the clothes. Yussa's fingers brush affectionately along the his cheek, admiring his neatly trimmed beard. Caleb is an attractive young man and Yussa, stoic though he can be, is not immune to his physical charms or his endearing mannerisms. His hand drops to brush absently over Caleb's shoulder, as if to ensure the jacket isn't too tight. It isn't, of course.
"I certainly won't feel as though we are mismatched when we arrive," he adds lightly, as if that announcement is of no consequence. "How much time do we have before we must depart?"
Arriving on time - or fashionably late - will not be an issue. Even if they cannot teleport directly onto the Academy grounds, Yussa knows they can get very close.
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As ever, the memories are bittersweet. But with Yussa before him, he isn't distracted by them for long. He couldn't be, when Yussa casually proclaims something so perplexing. Confusion writ over his face, he answers the question by rote as his mind hurries to process the context.
"I--as a professor, I have access to teleport directly, so about two hours, but--"
He hadn't expected this. Not for a moment. He had absolutely no reason to. Yussa hates parties, hates getting caught in the tangled strings of Assembly business, and only rarely leaves his tower at all. So why would Caleb think going as his plus-one to an Academy event would appeal to him whatsoever?
"We? You are...planning to come with me?"
It is a pleasant shock, but a shock nonetheless.
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"I wasn't going to send you into the pit of snakes alone," he says lightly, as if it were a foregone conclusion. "And I wish to see how your new clothes are received."
The latter explanation is the weaker of the two. As much as he wishes to see Caleb wearing the clothes, he wants to provide the support of his presence. People can look at him, if they need to look at anyone. And besides, it's been a while since he ruffled any feathers in Rexxentrum: what better way than to arrive on the arm of their most unexpected inquisitor?
Yussa makes his way up through the tower. The next door he opens is the one that leads to his private chambers; he leaves it open for Caleb as he sweeps inside.
The elven mage sits at a table lined with small containers and brushes. Yussa examines himself in the mirror there, turning his head one way, then the other. His fingers brush across the line of his cheek, then down his neck before elegantly plucking up the first brush. Yussa applies his makeup with the ease and confidence of practice. He lines his eyes and applies gold shadow; his lips, too, are painted gold with precise care.
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"Yussa, I--I cannot tell you how glad I am," he insists earnestly, but keeps the rest of what he might say to himself for the moment.
As if on a lead, Caleb needs no more than that small gesture to follow, like the obedient boy he is. He is near glowing with pride. Yussa is going to come with him, which means that Yussa will not only tolerate this event and these people for his sake, but that he is happy to be seen by them on Caleb's arm. To very publically convey his support, and perhaps even, to some extent, his affection. This is far, far beyond anything he could have expected or hoped for.
Trailing Yussa into his bedroom, he opts to continue standing, mindful of wrinkling his new clothes. Perhaps needlessly mindful, with prestidigitation at his fingertips, but it is a matter of respect for what Yussa has given him. He lingers several paces back from the table where Yussa has settled like an artist at an easel. He can see him in the mirror, first examining his fine features, then beginning to accentuate them with shimmering gold applied by a steady hand. Caleb is enthralled, oddly aroused, and flattered that he has been invited to observe this very intimate ritual.
Yussa has both vision and skill. His bare face with its sharp, handsome features is already striking, but he makes himself eye-catching in another way. Caleb openly admires him. He remains a quiet and attentive witness, dedicating Yussa the attention he deserves, and can't help imagining those painted gold lips sliding against his.
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That done, Yussa rises and moves toward the cedar wardrobe holding many of his clothes. Without effort, he shrugs out of the robe he's wearing to reveal the outfit waiting beneath.
It is relatively conservative from the back, but from the front it features a plunging neckline and tailoring to show more of Yussa's shape. The sweeping sleeves add to the structure and its clear the entire look is designed to draw attention as well as mitigate it: very little of him is actually exposed. Yussa returns to a full length mirror to examine himself. Like in the vanity, he turns one way and then another, as if looking for a flaw. There are none, of course. This will be his armor as much as anything, and he will use it to shield and to bolster Caleb as much as he can.
He peers at Caleb through the mirror and lifts a brow, silently inviting a response.
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"You are radiant," he murmurs, and his hands shift as his arms wrap around Yussa's petite form more tightly, embracing him from behind. "I thought I was coming here to pick up clothes, not..." He shakes his head. "Not the man whose company is going to make me the envy of all of Rexxentrum tonight."
Looking at their reflections together, Caleb has to admit that they are an eye-catching pair. Yussa has clearly coordinated their outfits; the parts of his jacket that are gold match Yussa's gown perfectly. That is a bold statement to make, and Caleb's emotions are a tangle of gratitude, pride, love, disbelief, desire, and more, too much to tease apart.
"Thank you. That you would do this for me..." Bowing his head, he noses behind the other man's long elven ear, against his neck. "I was dreading this night for many reasons, but you have changed that completely."
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"I am glad that I could turn it around so quickly," he says gently. "Your work is important, and this part sounds very tedious for you. So I will do what I can to make your evening... more enjoyable. Or at least somewhat easier."
He will go as Caleb's guest, and the hand-wringing directors of the Academy and the sharper eyes of the Cerberus Assembly can deal with his presence as someone who is not connected to either of their institutions.
"I will follow your lead if you like," he adds. His intention tonight is to bolster Caleb. Yussa reaches back to gently catch Caleb's cheek, guiding him so that he can give him a kiss.
"Should I put on anything else?" he asks as he peers at them in the mirror again.
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"Earrings," he suggests fondly, and lightly kisses the pointed tip of Yussa's nearest ear. "And, ah--perhaps you could help me with one more thing?"
This is an entirely spur of the moment request. He feels strangely nervous asking, face warming with a reflexive flush, but he has already gotten this far. He lifts a hand from around Yussa and taps his face beneath his own eye to indicate what he's talking about: makeup. "Just a little bit, maybe, if you think it would look decent? Nothing flashy. A gold lip would probably not suit me as it does you." He catches the eye of Yussa's reflection again and smiles, soft and wry. "I trust your judgement."
There is nothing to be apprehensive about, Caleb reminds himself. Plenty of men regularly wear makeup, and wear it well, Yussa included. It's just that he has never been one of them. But perhaps this is a night to be daring and try something new--even if it is only a little kohl around his eyes or a dusting of shimmering powder over his cheekbones.
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"Sit," he says gently. "Straddle the bench, facing me. I will tend you in just a moment."
He pulls a box closer and chooses a pair of long gold drop earrings, then a few other pieces, including one with a delicate chain linking two star-shaped studs. Satisfied with his decoration, he pushes the box away and carefully chooses a few pots of makeup. He turns to face Caleb, one leg folded across the bench as he studies his lover's face.
He plucks up a thin brush and drags it lightly through his kohl.
"Look down - close your eyes, if that will help."
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"You are going to be taking my breath away all evening," he murmurs as his eyes slip closed, leaving himself entirely in Yussa's hands. He laces his fingers together between his knees so that he can fidget without obstructing anything.
As soon as the brush touches his face, it feels like a spell is being cast. Allowing his lover to paint on his skin is an entirely novel intimacy. He can feel how steady Yussa's hand is, the confidence with which he moves the brush. It was captivating to watch, and entrancing in a different way to experience. He dares not speak, or even breathe too deeply, lest a line go awry.
His curiosity about what he will look like will be satisfied soon enough. For now, he tries to appreciate the process.
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"Open your eyes, look up," he instructs softly, waiting for Caleb to do as he says. Applying the lower line requires a different kind of care, but Yussa is as efficient as ever. He smudges those too, though not as much, keeping the look more crisp. The kohl applied, he plucks up a different brush to add a sheen of gold powder at the inner corners of Caleb's eyes, sweeping up into the darker smudges on his eyelids.
He sits back to examine his work and makes a soft, satisfied sound. Caleb will not be the only one distracted all evening.
"Take a look, what do you think? It's easy to correct anything you don't like."
Yussa finds the look enchanting. Caleb's vivid blue eyes are made more so by the addition of the darker lines and it is impossible not to notice them with the attention drawn there. The flicker of gold adds interest - and ties him yet again to his companion for the evening - without being too flashy or overwhelming.
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"Oh," he breathes, and watches his own expression change with surprise. His eyes are darkly outlined, and there is a subtle shimmer of gold powder swiped up from the inner corners over his lids. Both serve to emphasize the blue of his eyes, which stands out even more starkly than usual. It is all very understated, far from a dramatic change, but to Caleb there is a clear difference.
Turning his face left and right, the gold powder catches the light. It does please him to match Yussa in yet another way. He turns to his lover almost shyly, reaching for his nearest hand to give it a gentle squeeze. "I think that I was right to trust you, as ever."
While he can't imagine wearing it often, for attending a special occasion with Yussa, it feels good to make a little extra effort. "It looks nice. Better than I expected. Thank you."
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Another kiss with a smile lingering between them.
"But we should depart, I think. It is one thing to be fashionably late, another to disrupt the night's proceedings."
They should be seen arriving together rather than sneaking in after the festivities have started. Yussa rises slowly and absently smooths his clothes. He finds a cloak to wear, knowing the night air in Rexxentrum will be chilly to him, regardless of season. As much as he talks about being Caleb's armor tonight, he must don his own. He does not often attend social functions and that is by design. He knows his presence will make an impact given how elusive he is, and he is prepared to bear the brunt of it if he can. And there is a balance to find between bolstering the younger man and outshining him; he would prefer to avoid the latter.
He looks at himself in a floor-length mirror and takes a breath, then lets it go slowly. He is radiant. He will be the star in the deep blue of Caleb's sky.
"I am ready when you are," he says as he looks back at his lover.
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But Yussa is correct, of course. While Caleb would have been perfectly happy to arrive late and slip in without notice if it were just him, circumstances have changed. Arriving with Yussa on his arm is a statement, but it only works if they're actually seen.
"Ja, we should go now, before I lose my nerve," he agrees with a tight smile. Admittedly, he is dreading this evening much less now that he'll have Yussa's company. He gets up from the bench he's been straddling, straightens out his jacket, and offers the older wizard his hand. "My hair looks okay worn down like this?" he checks, a last minute confirmation. Typically he pulls it back, but the red looks nice contrasted with the deep blue of his jacket.
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He remembers a thing he's forgotten - he'd been distracted by doing Caleb's make up - and turns back toward his dressing table and a jewelry box. The nail guards are removed long enough for Yussa to put in earrings, since Caleb suggested them, and by the time he's finished his ears are decorated from lobe to tip. He slips his fingers back into the guards and rejoins Caleb.
"There, now I'm ready. You'll have to bring us there, sweet boy, as I most assuredly cannot teleport directly onto the grounds." A smirk plays across his golden lips. He's already alluded to the fact that he cannot (or will not) visit the Halls of Erudition.