![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
An icon of me with the Lord of the Rings hair. Doesn't it look like I just kind of pulled it forward and hacked it off so it wouldn't be in my face? That's because I did. Elvengirl told me my eyebrows could use plucking, but I kind of like how they look. Then again I've always been fond of bushy eyebrows.
So, anyway. This stupid Ivan/Byerly story I've been working on for ages; I've come to hate it. I feel like the guys don't act enough like guys, and the feedback I get from my beta reader indicates that my sense of dramatic timing is off. I had the climax happen about like I thought it really should, I mean, if such things were playing out in real life. I think I'll just post what I have here and hope someone can give me a clue, since I just don't know what the fuck I'm doing at this point.
Title: Adjusting Perspective
Author: Derien
Fandom: Vokosigan series, Lois McMaster Bujold
Pairing: Ivan/Byerly
Rating: PG 13 for some implications
Summary: Byerly's reputation is in danger? Also, weapons runners from Jackson's Whole.
Notes: No more AU than any slash, but borrowing some artifacts from "A Deeper Season" and "What Passing Bells" universe. (At least I'm reasonably sure that's where I picked up the flower shop girl, although I gave her a name. But that's certainly where the androgenesis idea came from.) Miles is with Ekaterin, Gregor is with Laisa, Ivan's at loose ends.
Adjusting Perspective Ch 1 of 3
************************
Ivan screamed, fell, thrashed like a fish on a line and screamed and screamed. For Byerly the world went red with murderous rage, and he went at the man responsible, the man holding the remote that cued the shock collar on Ivan's neck. He was dimly aware that the quiet man in the corner was trying to get a bead on him with some sort of hand weapon, but he wasn't interested - now his hands were around the throat of the person who was hurting Ivan and they'd both gone over with his momentum and he was smashing the man's skull on the floor...
* * *
He was just closing the last file, looking forward to getting home from work and having a quick shower before taking that cute flower-shop girl out to dinner when Ivan's comconsole chimed. His mother.
Without preamble she started in. "Ivan, I'm going to let you know before anyone else does. Your friend is in the hospital, he's fine, and you will not go there."
"Which friend?"
Alys merely glared at him. "Come see me before you do anything else."
"Which friend?"
"I mean it, Ivan. Come to my office."
He swallowed. Something was definitely not good, here. "Yes, mother." Keying off, he piled the rest of the flimsies on his desk into a messy stack and shoved them into a drawer, locked it, and pocketed the key. She didn't want to say who it was, she seemed convinced he would rush to the hospital even though the injury was apparently not life-threatening... Ivan was confused. He readily acknowledged that it didn't take much to confuse him - he was no brilliant mind like his cousin, Miles, or like Byerly... /"Oh."/ he thought, /"By."/ Lady Alys was Byerly's contact to ImpSec, she well be one of the first people who would find out if he were in the hospital. And the way she'd glared at Ivan - it was just the sort of glare she might give him if she knew that he and Byerly had... Ivan was not going to call it a Relationship by any means, and the imminent meeting with his mother made him quail at the term 'screwed like rabbits.' They'd 'had relations,' he decided.
He certainly hadn't meant to, the first time - waking up the morning after had been a complete surprise. The second time it had been, if possible, even more of a surprise because he really hadn't thought he'd ever do that again. The third time he'd decided he'd better start dealing with it, and soon it had become almost commonplace, although sex that good could never be called 'commonplace.' The sexual inventiveness must go along with the madness in the Vorrutyer genes - By's cousin Donna had been nearly as much fun, back before she was a he. The part which surprised Ivan was how well he liked Byerly once he'd gotten to know him better. He was sharp, both of wit and of tongue, and yet could be surprisingly kind in a million small ways, and didn't call Ivan 'Ivan-you-idiot' nearly as much as most people did.
As he had mused on all this he had found his way as though on autopilot from his office to the parking garage where he had left his ground car. He sighed deeply as he settled into the driver's seat. He was going to have to play it very cool for his mother. He tried to line up whatever plausible points of deniability he could find, reminding himself that he had to pretend ignorance and ask exactly who she might be talking about. With any luck it wouldn't be Byerly at all. He didn't count on it.
Fifteen minutes later he had passed through the multiple levels of security necessary to get to see the social director to the Emperor, and found himself before her desk, unconsciously adopting a military at-ease position as though he were preparing for a dressing down. He mentally cursed himself and plopped into a chair, hoping she hadn't noticed as she closed out her comconsole, and trying to widen his eyes in a hopefully innocently curious expression.
"So. What's up?"
His mother's eyes narrowed. "Don't make the mistake of thinking that Byerly is my only source of gossip. I hope that you are not underestimating the seriousness of this situation." Her tone made it clear that she was sure he was. She rarely had to actually say "Ivan-you-idiot."
"Mother..." He decided he'd better not try the "I'm not sure what you mean" plea - she was never the sort of person who would have patience with that at the best of times. "It's not as though I have that much of a reputation to maintain -"
"Ha!"
So much for playing it cool. "-I understand all about fitting in with Vorish expectations and all, but, honestly, nobody really expects me to ever make anything of myself at this point- "
"Don't remind me! I've exhausted every last eligible Vor female and you're down to dating shop girls. It's not your reputation I'm concerned about at this point, it's Byerly's."
Ivan blinked. She'd jumped far ahead of where he had expected her to be. "We've had this conversation. He and I. I thought... I had this idea that I could protect him, but he explained that his effectiveness as an information gatherer depended on people thinking that he was really a nobody among the Vor. That if people had the idea that he might spill something to someone who had the ear of the Emperor it would be unlikely that anyone would ever say anything in front of him ever again, no matter how drunk he might pretend to be. And that with my family connections people might think someone might listen to me. Not that they ever would." He ran down and regarded the babble he had just spewed with horror.
"Protect him?" His mother blinked. "It's his job."
"I know," he mumbled miserably. "It makes me sick worrying, sometimes. Couldn't he get some other job? I've tried to be careful, and so has he. We've continued seeing other people and tried to make it look like happenstance when we met up, and we don't meet up near as often as we would like. He likes his job and doesn't want to jeopardize it."
"Ivan...?" Lady Alys leaned forward, peering at him closely. "Well." She nodded minutely and sat back again, steepling her fingers, and regarded her son consideringly. "No matter what you might think, I do like Byerly. Yes, I see that surprises you. I've acted my part much more effectively than you have acted yours, I think."
Ivan's ears burned with his blush and he dropped his eyes again. Too late he realized he'd said far too much.
"It's not only his job at issue," she continued. "I don't want to see his life endangered, as I'm afraid it may be. You *will* stay away from him, at least for the moment. He's only in for overnight observation, it was just a slight concussion, he should be out tomorrow morning. But as to *your* reputation-" she stopped short, compressing her lips. "Go, now, child. I must consider. I'm sure you have a date or something." She brushed her long fingers in an elegant wave of dismissal, and Ivan leapt from his chair gratefully, and, with a little bob of his head, escaped.
He did not feel at all like going out, now, thinking of Byerly lying alone in a hospital bed. How had he let his mother distract him from asking what had happened? It crossed his mind to defy her, but he had also not managed to ask her exactly which hospital he was in. He'd have to call around. And if By's life could be endangered... No, he couldn't risk that. He really shouldn't go. It was far too late to cancel his date - the manners he'd been raised with forbade it at this point for anything short of a death in the family - so he called to say he would be late ("held up at the office" - as long as he didn't say which office it was true enough) and made his shower as quick as possible.
As it turned out chirpy Dolores-from-the-flower-shop seemed not in the least put out, and the vague, foreshortened version of events which he gave her seemed to make her think he was some sort of tragic hero involved in espionage, which worked out quite to his favor as she attempted to distract him and cheer him up. She was enthusiastic and energetic. However, in the morning she remained chirpy, far too much so. In short, she was not Byerly, he realized. He liked that fact that he and By tended to have the same energy level in the mornings - either unconscious or starting very slow.
Ivan sent Dolores on her way kindly, he hoped, but as quickly as he could manage. He had to go to work, anyway, it was the perfect excuse. Lately he usually scheduled dates with women on weeknights, so as to have weekends free in case By was available.
He only managed to wait until early afternoon before sending a message to By, trusting he would be home by this time. The response was terse - "Not a good idea right now. Hopefully soon."
* * *
After a week Ivan was itching with impatience and feeling just wrong, in some unaccountable way. He'd grown used to seeing By on a fairly regular basis without even realizing that was so at the time. He'd seen By enough for rumors to start? This was amazing to him; it hardly seemed possible. They'd been out - to dinner or plays - a few times, but hardly anything much. He really needed someone with information, someone who would talk to him, so he could know just how much damage had really been done, and his mother was right out. Cousin Miles was in the city at the moment. Much as he hated to - the dwarf would never let him live it down - he found himself calling at Vorkosigan House.
Married respectability had mellowed some of the hyperactiveness out of the little git - or maybe it was just old age catching up with him. Ivan was pretty sure he didn't want either happening to him. Still, Miles now had a calmness that made Ivan feel better for being in his presence as his cousin led the way to the sitting room.
"What seems to be the problem?" Miles asked, sounding so much like a doctor that Ivan nearly said, "My skin - it doesn't fit right."
Where to start? "I, uh, need some information."
"Yes...?" Miles chose an overstuffed brown leather chair near the fire.
"About..." Ivan looked around and decided to bring over a straight backed wooden chair so that he could sit fairly close and not raise his voice. "About what people are saying about me."
"Ah. Hm."
That did not sound good.
"Yeah. What are they saying about me and B..."
"You only just caught on that they were talking?"
"My mother told me."
Miles winced. "Ouch. Well. Popular opinion seems to be that all your previous womanizing was an attempt to cover up."
"That bad?"
"Some dissenters say it's a phase and that Byerly somehow seduced you and has you under his evil influence."
Somehow that didn't make Ivan feel any better. "Look. How many particular instances are there that people have actually seen something? Is this a fixable situation?"
"Do you want it to be?"
"Of course! It's ruining Byerly's job."
"Ah."
"And I'd like my reputation back."
"Well, that you're not going to get, at least not right away. Not to say that your reputation was anything much to speak of. People aren't really all that surprised by this. Some are scandalized by the gender, but the general consensus seems to be that you were always oversexed and you'll just, erm, well, there's no way to put a genteel spin on it - that you've only proven that you'll jump on anyone who holds still too long. I'll bet you even money that if you dump Byerly there'll be other guys after you from now on."
He pulled a face. This was not a train of thought he wanted to pursue right now. He'd barely managed to get used to the idea of there being one male who he could do 'that sort of thing' with. "What have people seen?"
"There was that incident at Olivia's party last month."
"Oh yeah. My fault. He told me we shouldn't. Damn. That really blew it, didn't it?"
"So to speak!" Miles was laughing at him, the little twit. They'd actually only been caught necking, but rumor might have made the story a little more spicy.
"Any other times?"
"Mostly you've just been seen out together. Probably only four or five times. You might be able to spin it as a friendship that got a little out of hand that one time, if you really work on it and live a wholesome life. And can resist seeing other men."
"Not a problem."
"You're sure?"
"Not. A. Problem."
Miles cocked his head to one side. "Interesting."
"What?"
"That you're so sure. Never mind, though. You're really going to stop seeing him, even so?"
Ivan nodded, but then felt guilty for lying to Miles about this and his up and down head bob changed to a side to side motion. "No. I don't want to. But we can be more careful. After all, only maybe six instances? That's actually a pretty good success rate. I mean, five months, or really it's only been often for the last four months, so that's twelve weeks -"
"Sixteen."
"-sixteen, right, at least twice a week -"
"*Twice* a week??"
"-is, um - carry the one - is thirty-two, right? So, five or six out of thirty-two is... Well, make it on average three times -"
"You've been having sex with *Byerly* three times a *week*? And then your other dates?"
"We're not really having sex all the time. Although once we barely got out of bed for two days," Ivan was blushing furiously, but he couldn't help smiling just a little at that memory, "But mostly we're just... talking. And stuff. And really the other dates have been pretty far between, I've only had about three that went anywhere in the last four months. I've lost my train of thought, now. Six fives in thirty, so maybe we've been noticed one in five times? That's two in ten times, that's close to an eighty percent success rate, right? And I'll bet the only times we've been caught is when we went someplace in public together, so if we just don't go out in public we'll be all set."
"You're going to confine yourselves to your homes? That doesn't sound like a recipe for a successful relationship."
"Relationship?"
"Well, what do you call it?"
"Friendship?"
"So you have a friend who's just a convenient outstanding shag?"
"I suppose."
"And you've pretty much stopped seeing women?"
"I, er, suppose I haven't been putting the effort in..."
"Not much point when you've got such an outstanding shag so convenient, is there?"
"Um."
Miles stared at him.
"I could try harder. You said you thought the damage could be fixed."
"If you got yourself married, maybe! How are you going to do that when every Vor daughter near your age has been married off and you've already run through most of the eligible daughters of the richer merchant and military families, and you can't even be bothered to put the effort in to find a date with a shop girl on a regular basis?"
"You didn't say anything about getting married! You said 'live a wholesome life,' I don't see why I should have to-"
"If you're going to keep seeing him you're GOING to get caught again, it's only a matter of time. A matter of wanting to see the outside world together, forgetting yourself for a moment - it will happen. No, the way I see it you might as well not bother; if you're going to keep on you might as well admit you're in love and -"
"In love?"
"Well, yes. I DO think that's what all the evidence points to, at this time."
"You think I am?"
"You're considering basically killing off most of your social life in order to spend time with him. Now, I think that'll only end with you both hating each other, eventually, and throwing away something which could be really good. My point, if you would let me get to it and not have to keep going back over the same ground, is that most people aren't really upset by this..." he waved his hand, "Liaison. If you don't want to call it a relationship. Vorrutyers are crazy anyway, and maybe there's a little crazy in the Vorpatrils, too, but as the old guard dies off and more of the up-and-coming Counts are exposed to the outside galactic cultures there's less and less worry about how you run your personal life. You're not far from the throne, but that'll just make the conservatives back Gregor more firmly, I don't think there's much to worry about there. Always the chance of random violence, and that should not be taken too lightly."
"But... my mother. My Vorish duty to father an heir to my family and all that..."
"You don't keep up on science news much, do you? There's a new thing called androgenesis. Let's two guys have kids. They recently developed it on Beta and Jackson's Whole almost simultaneously - must be one of those ideas who's time has come. You could have kids with Byerly if you want."
"Byerly, raise kids? *Me* raise kids??"
"It's your Vorish duty, as you mentioned. That doesn't mean that you have to start in right away, but the option is there for when you're ready."
Ivan was confused, overwhelmed. His heart and stomach seemed to be doing flip-flops, and he shook his head as if to clear if of cobwebs. "You're not suggesting I ... marry Byerly?"
"I'm not sure if it's legally possible at the moment, but with androgenesis available there may be a legal argument for the possibility. After all, if marriage is for reproduction and there's no actual barrier to reproducing... It might eventually be an option."
"How does that help with his job, though? I'm ruining his ability to be an intelligence gatherer."
"It doesn't help with that aspect at all, unfortunately. He'd have to find another job."
"He enjoys it, though." /"I don't. I worry all the time."/
"He's a smart enough man, it shouldn't be impossible for us to find somewhere else in the system to place him. Something he could do that wouldn't be entirely boring, but might be a little safer. I think you'd prefer that, wouldn't you?"
Miles always had been able to see right through Ivan. "Yes," Ivan admitted, and almost smiled, "I would. I've gotten to hate his job after the last few fiascoes. But I know he's not like me - I like boredom. He needs some excitement."
"Think on it. Run it by him. He might change his mind after a few more close calls, especially if you were there to sweeten the deal. He might just need the right person to settle down with. And I think somewhere in you there's the makings of a settling-down type of person, if your love for boredom is any indication."
Ivan stood, shaking his head, but smiling. "You're insane. I can't believe this plan. It will never work." But maybe... he was grinning, now. "Thanks, Coz." He was whistling as he took his leave. Maybe.
Chapter 2
So, anyway. This stupid Ivan/Byerly story I've been working on for ages; I've come to hate it. I feel like the guys don't act enough like guys, and the feedback I get from my beta reader indicates that my sense of dramatic timing is off. I had the climax happen about like I thought it really should, I mean, if such things were playing out in real life. I think I'll just post what I have here and hope someone can give me a clue, since I just don't know what the fuck I'm doing at this point.
Title: Adjusting Perspective
Author: Derien
Fandom: Vokosigan series, Lois McMaster Bujold
Pairing: Ivan/Byerly
Rating: PG 13 for some implications
Summary: Byerly's reputation is in danger? Also, weapons runners from Jackson's Whole.
Notes: No more AU than any slash, but borrowing some artifacts from "A Deeper Season" and "What Passing Bells" universe. (At least I'm reasonably sure that's where I picked up the flower shop girl, although I gave her a name. But that's certainly where the androgenesis idea came from.) Miles is with Ekaterin, Gregor is with Laisa, Ivan's at loose ends.
Adjusting Perspective Ch 1 of 3
************************
Ivan screamed, fell, thrashed like a fish on a line and screamed and screamed. For Byerly the world went red with murderous rage, and he went at the man responsible, the man holding the remote that cued the shock collar on Ivan's neck. He was dimly aware that the quiet man in the corner was trying to get a bead on him with some sort of hand weapon, but he wasn't interested - now his hands were around the throat of the person who was hurting Ivan and they'd both gone over with his momentum and he was smashing the man's skull on the floor...
* * *
He was just closing the last file, looking forward to getting home from work and having a quick shower before taking that cute flower-shop girl out to dinner when Ivan's comconsole chimed. His mother.
Without preamble she started in. "Ivan, I'm going to let you know before anyone else does. Your friend is in the hospital, he's fine, and you will not go there."
"Which friend?"
Alys merely glared at him. "Come see me before you do anything else."
"Which friend?"
"I mean it, Ivan. Come to my office."
He swallowed. Something was definitely not good, here. "Yes, mother." Keying off, he piled the rest of the flimsies on his desk into a messy stack and shoved them into a drawer, locked it, and pocketed the key. She didn't want to say who it was, she seemed convinced he would rush to the hospital even though the injury was apparently not life-threatening... Ivan was confused. He readily acknowledged that it didn't take much to confuse him - he was no brilliant mind like his cousin, Miles, or like Byerly... /"Oh."/ he thought, /"By."/ Lady Alys was Byerly's contact to ImpSec, she well be one of the first people who would find out if he were in the hospital. And the way she'd glared at Ivan - it was just the sort of glare she might give him if she knew that he and Byerly had... Ivan was not going to call it a Relationship by any means, and the imminent meeting with his mother made him quail at the term 'screwed like rabbits.' They'd 'had relations,' he decided.
He certainly hadn't meant to, the first time - waking up the morning after had been a complete surprise. The second time it had been, if possible, even more of a surprise because he really hadn't thought he'd ever do that again. The third time he'd decided he'd better start dealing with it, and soon it had become almost commonplace, although sex that good could never be called 'commonplace.' The sexual inventiveness must go along with the madness in the Vorrutyer genes - By's cousin Donna had been nearly as much fun, back before she was a he. The part which surprised Ivan was how well he liked Byerly once he'd gotten to know him better. He was sharp, both of wit and of tongue, and yet could be surprisingly kind in a million small ways, and didn't call Ivan 'Ivan-you-idiot' nearly as much as most people did.
As he had mused on all this he had found his way as though on autopilot from his office to the parking garage where he had left his ground car. He sighed deeply as he settled into the driver's seat. He was going to have to play it very cool for his mother. He tried to line up whatever plausible points of deniability he could find, reminding himself that he had to pretend ignorance and ask exactly who she might be talking about. With any luck it wouldn't be Byerly at all. He didn't count on it.
Fifteen minutes later he had passed through the multiple levels of security necessary to get to see the social director to the Emperor, and found himself before her desk, unconsciously adopting a military at-ease position as though he were preparing for a dressing down. He mentally cursed himself and plopped into a chair, hoping she hadn't noticed as she closed out her comconsole, and trying to widen his eyes in a hopefully innocently curious expression.
"So. What's up?"
His mother's eyes narrowed. "Don't make the mistake of thinking that Byerly is my only source of gossip. I hope that you are not underestimating the seriousness of this situation." Her tone made it clear that she was sure he was. She rarely had to actually say "Ivan-you-idiot."
"Mother..." He decided he'd better not try the "I'm not sure what you mean" plea - she was never the sort of person who would have patience with that at the best of times. "It's not as though I have that much of a reputation to maintain -"
"Ha!"
So much for playing it cool. "-I understand all about fitting in with Vorish expectations and all, but, honestly, nobody really expects me to ever make anything of myself at this point- "
"Don't remind me! I've exhausted every last eligible Vor female and you're down to dating shop girls. It's not your reputation I'm concerned about at this point, it's Byerly's."
Ivan blinked. She'd jumped far ahead of where he had expected her to be. "We've had this conversation. He and I. I thought... I had this idea that I could protect him, but he explained that his effectiveness as an information gatherer depended on people thinking that he was really a nobody among the Vor. That if people had the idea that he might spill something to someone who had the ear of the Emperor it would be unlikely that anyone would ever say anything in front of him ever again, no matter how drunk he might pretend to be. And that with my family connections people might think someone might listen to me. Not that they ever would." He ran down and regarded the babble he had just spewed with horror.
"Protect him?" His mother blinked. "It's his job."
"I know," he mumbled miserably. "It makes me sick worrying, sometimes. Couldn't he get some other job? I've tried to be careful, and so has he. We've continued seeing other people and tried to make it look like happenstance when we met up, and we don't meet up near as often as we would like. He likes his job and doesn't want to jeopardize it."
"Ivan...?" Lady Alys leaned forward, peering at him closely. "Well." She nodded minutely and sat back again, steepling her fingers, and regarded her son consideringly. "No matter what you might think, I do like Byerly. Yes, I see that surprises you. I've acted my part much more effectively than you have acted yours, I think."
Ivan's ears burned with his blush and he dropped his eyes again. Too late he realized he'd said far too much.
"It's not only his job at issue," she continued. "I don't want to see his life endangered, as I'm afraid it may be. You *will* stay away from him, at least for the moment. He's only in for overnight observation, it was just a slight concussion, he should be out tomorrow morning. But as to *your* reputation-" she stopped short, compressing her lips. "Go, now, child. I must consider. I'm sure you have a date or something." She brushed her long fingers in an elegant wave of dismissal, and Ivan leapt from his chair gratefully, and, with a little bob of his head, escaped.
He did not feel at all like going out, now, thinking of Byerly lying alone in a hospital bed. How had he let his mother distract him from asking what had happened? It crossed his mind to defy her, but he had also not managed to ask her exactly which hospital he was in. He'd have to call around. And if By's life could be endangered... No, he couldn't risk that. He really shouldn't go. It was far too late to cancel his date - the manners he'd been raised with forbade it at this point for anything short of a death in the family - so he called to say he would be late ("held up at the office" - as long as he didn't say which office it was true enough) and made his shower as quick as possible.
As it turned out chirpy Dolores-from-the-flower-shop seemed not in the least put out, and the vague, foreshortened version of events which he gave her seemed to make her think he was some sort of tragic hero involved in espionage, which worked out quite to his favor as she attempted to distract him and cheer him up. She was enthusiastic and energetic. However, in the morning she remained chirpy, far too much so. In short, she was not Byerly, he realized. He liked that fact that he and By tended to have the same energy level in the mornings - either unconscious or starting very slow.
Ivan sent Dolores on her way kindly, he hoped, but as quickly as he could manage. He had to go to work, anyway, it was the perfect excuse. Lately he usually scheduled dates with women on weeknights, so as to have weekends free in case By was available.
He only managed to wait until early afternoon before sending a message to By, trusting he would be home by this time. The response was terse - "Not a good idea right now. Hopefully soon."
* * *
After a week Ivan was itching with impatience and feeling just wrong, in some unaccountable way. He'd grown used to seeing By on a fairly regular basis without even realizing that was so at the time. He'd seen By enough for rumors to start? This was amazing to him; it hardly seemed possible. They'd been out - to dinner or plays - a few times, but hardly anything much. He really needed someone with information, someone who would talk to him, so he could know just how much damage had really been done, and his mother was right out. Cousin Miles was in the city at the moment. Much as he hated to - the dwarf would never let him live it down - he found himself calling at Vorkosigan House.
Married respectability had mellowed some of the hyperactiveness out of the little git - or maybe it was just old age catching up with him. Ivan was pretty sure he didn't want either happening to him. Still, Miles now had a calmness that made Ivan feel better for being in his presence as his cousin led the way to the sitting room.
"What seems to be the problem?" Miles asked, sounding so much like a doctor that Ivan nearly said, "My skin - it doesn't fit right."
Where to start? "I, uh, need some information."
"Yes...?" Miles chose an overstuffed brown leather chair near the fire.
"About..." Ivan looked around and decided to bring over a straight backed wooden chair so that he could sit fairly close and not raise his voice. "About what people are saying about me."
"Ah. Hm."
That did not sound good.
"Yeah. What are they saying about me and B..."
"You only just caught on that they were talking?"
"My mother told me."
Miles winced. "Ouch. Well. Popular opinion seems to be that all your previous womanizing was an attempt to cover up."
"That bad?"
"Some dissenters say it's a phase and that Byerly somehow seduced you and has you under his evil influence."
Somehow that didn't make Ivan feel any better. "Look. How many particular instances are there that people have actually seen something? Is this a fixable situation?"
"Do you want it to be?"
"Of course! It's ruining Byerly's job."
"Ah."
"And I'd like my reputation back."
"Well, that you're not going to get, at least not right away. Not to say that your reputation was anything much to speak of. People aren't really all that surprised by this. Some are scandalized by the gender, but the general consensus seems to be that you were always oversexed and you'll just, erm, well, there's no way to put a genteel spin on it - that you've only proven that you'll jump on anyone who holds still too long. I'll bet you even money that if you dump Byerly there'll be other guys after you from now on."
He pulled a face. This was not a train of thought he wanted to pursue right now. He'd barely managed to get used to the idea of there being one male who he could do 'that sort of thing' with. "What have people seen?"
"There was that incident at Olivia's party last month."
"Oh yeah. My fault. He told me we shouldn't. Damn. That really blew it, didn't it?"
"So to speak!" Miles was laughing at him, the little twit. They'd actually only been caught necking, but rumor might have made the story a little more spicy.
"Any other times?"
"Mostly you've just been seen out together. Probably only four or five times. You might be able to spin it as a friendship that got a little out of hand that one time, if you really work on it and live a wholesome life. And can resist seeing other men."
"Not a problem."
"You're sure?"
"Not. A. Problem."
Miles cocked his head to one side. "Interesting."
"What?"
"That you're so sure. Never mind, though. You're really going to stop seeing him, even so?"
Ivan nodded, but then felt guilty for lying to Miles about this and his up and down head bob changed to a side to side motion. "No. I don't want to. But we can be more careful. After all, only maybe six instances? That's actually a pretty good success rate. I mean, five months, or really it's only been often for the last four months, so that's twelve weeks -"
"Sixteen."
"-sixteen, right, at least twice a week -"
"*Twice* a week??"
"-is, um - carry the one - is thirty-two, right? So, five or six out of thirty-two is... Well, make it on average three times -"
"You've been having sex with *Byerly* three times a *week*? And then your other dates?"
"We're not really having sex all the time. Although once we barely got out of bed for two days," Ivan was blushing furiously, but he couldn't help smiling just a little at that memory, "But mostly we're just... talking. And stuff. And really the other dates have been pretty far between, I've only had about three that went anywhere in the last four months. I've lost my train of thought, now. Six fives in thirty, so maybe we've been noticed one in five times? That's two in ten times, that's close to an eighty percent success rate, right? And I'll bet the only times we've been caught is when we went someplace in public together, so if we just don't go out in public we'll be all set."
"You're going to confine yourselves to your homes? That doesn't sound like a recipe for a successful relationship."
"Relationship?"
"Well, what do you call it?"
"Friendship?"
"So you have a friend who's just a convenient outstanding shag?"
"I suppose."
"And you've pretty much stopped seeing women?"
"I, er, suppose I haven't been putting the effort in..."
"Not much point when you've got such an outstanding shag so convenient, is there?"
"Um."
Miles stared at him.
"I could try harder. You said you thought the damage could be fixed."
"If you got yourself married, maybe! How are you going to do that when every Vor daughter near your age has been married off and you've already run through most of the eligible daughters of the richer merchant and military families, and you can't even be bothered to put the effort in to find a date with a shop girl on a regular basis?"
"You didn't say anything about getting married! You said 'live a wholesome life,' I don't see why I should have to-"
"If you're going to keep seeing him you're GOING to get caught again, it's only a matter of time. A matter of wanting to see the outside world together, forgetting yourself for a moment - it will happen. No, the way I see it you might as well not bother; if you're going to keep on you might as well admit you're in love and -"
"In love?"
"Well, yes. I DO think that's what all the evidence points to, at this time."
"You think I am?"
"You're considering basically killing off most of your social life in order to spend time with him. Now, I think that'll only end with you both hating each other, eventually, and throwing away something which could be really good. My point, if you would let me get to it and not have to keep going back over the same ground, is that most people aren't really upset by this..." he waved his hand, "Liaison. If you don't want to call it a relationship. Vorrutyers are crazy anyway, and maybe there's a little crazy in the Vorpatrils, too, but as the old guard dies off and more of the up-and-coming Counts are exposed to the outside galactic cultures there's less and less worry about how you run your personal life. You're not far from the throne, but that'll just make the conservatives back Gregor more firmly, I don't think there's much to worry about there. Always the chance of random violence, and that should not be taken too lightly."
"But... my mother. My Vorish duty to father an heir to my family and all that..."
"You don't keep up on science news much, do you? There's a new thing called androgenesis. Let's two guys have kids. They recently developed it on Beta and Jackson's Whole almost simultaneously - must be one of those ideas who's time has come. You could have kids with Byerly if you want."
"Byerly, raise kids? *Me* raise kids??"
"It's your Vorish duty, as you mentioned. That doesn't mean that you have to start in right away, but the option is there for when you're ready."
Ivan was confused, overwhelmed. His heart and stomach seemed to be doing flip-flops, and he shook his head as if to clear if of cobwebs. "You're not suggesting I ... marry Byerly?"
"I'm not sure if it's legally possible at the moment, but with androgenesis available there may be a legal argument for the possibility. After all, if marriage is for reproduction and there's no actual barrier to reproducing... It might eventually be an option."
"How does that help with his job, though? I'm ruining his ability to be an intelligence gatherer."
"It doesn't help with that aspect at all, unfortunately. He'd have to find another job."
"He enjoys it, though." /"I don't. I worry all the time."/
"He's a smart enough man, it shouldn't be impossible for us to find somewhere else in the system to place him. Something he could do that wouldn't be entirely boring, but might be a little safer. I think you'd prefer that, wouldn't you?"
Miles always had been able to see right through Ivan. "Yes," Ivan admitted, and almost smiled, "I would. I've gotten to hate his job after the last few fiascoes. But I know he's not like me - I like boredom. He needs some excitement."
"Think on it. Run it by him. He might change his mind after a few more close calls, especially if you were there to sweeten the deal. He might just need the right person to settle down with. And I think somewhere in you there's the makings of a settling-down type of person, if your love for boredom is any indication."
Ivan stood, shaking his head, but smiling. "You're insane. I can't believe this plan. It will never work." But maybe... he was grinning, now. "Thanks, Coz." He was whistling as he took his leave. Maybe.
Chapter 2
Tags: