Because I’m failing at ficcing properly but writing fic on my birthday is kind of a tradition of mine, I thought I’d doodle a quick something for my NDU peeps, especially as I promised a while back to scribble something for Piki/Proto and never got around to doing so. TIME TO AMEND THAT.
Piki learned early on to avoid asking Proto questions unless he genuinely wanted to know the answer. Proto’s default expression of pleasant neutrality hid a mind that loved to analyse and catalogue the reactions of others, and if given a chance to dissect someone’s thoughts by provoking them with overly honest answers, he would leap at it. One trick was to try to avoid talking around him, but he had a talent for interpreting different kinds of silence too; the only defence that ever seemed to count for anything was to be just as honest back, and brutally so.
Piki wanted the answer to one question, so he asked it.
"Why are you wearing a dress?"
Even with his back exposed to the elements, shifting muscles and scarred skin on proud display, Proto’s body language gave away nothing. “An exchange of interests. I’ve often wondered how it feels to stand on skin in stiletto heels, and I’ve found someone who’ll permit me to find out. All it costs is the wearing of this dress.” He turned around in his chair, garish orange-red lipstick highlighting his smile. “I’ve done more for less.”
Piki’s mouth felt dry as he took in the full sight - the purple velvet halterneck scooping awkwardly where it expected breasts to be, ending a good six inches short of Proto’s ankles. A second-hand dress, clearly, but the stilettos were a perfect fit, the black patent leather either new or well looked after.
Piki wondered if the shoes were a gift from Proto’s suitor, or if they had been waiting in Proto’s wardrobe for their chance to shine, and felt an abrupt and peculiar twinge of jealousy.
"What does he want you to wear under it?" Piki asked, testing the waters. He knew the second Proto had looked at him he would have seen the dress had stirred a certain kind of interest, so there was no point in denying it.
“‘He’? That’s presumptuous,” Proto said, spreading his legs and settling his hands between them so that the dress gave a vague outline of what hid beneath it. “Even if you are correct. Do you want to find out for yourself?”
Piki thought about it - the possibility of finding lingerie, or nothing, or Proto’s generally preferred attire of threadbare briefs or boxers.
There was something exciting about not knowing the answer, and he bent down to kiss the soft, almost waxy surface of Proto’s lipstick-smeared lips, careful not to smudge them.
Proto laughed and ran his tongue over Piki’s chin before leaning back, his expression at once playful and smug. “I’ll tell you what; my friend is on strict orders to keep their hands below my hips. If you’re awake when I get back, you can explore everywhere they can’t.”
Promising time to Proto was a dangerous affair, one that was known to occasionally end in tears, blood, terror, and combinations of the three.
On the other hand, all three were effective reminders of the fact Piki was just as alive and real as he tried to make the characters in his plays.
"Deal," Piki said, stealing another kiss before offering Proto a hand as he stood.
It wasn’t needed. Proto had clearly practiced wearing the stilettos before.
Piki rather wished he’d been around to see it.