stilljustandrew | [ainmhianverse] same as it ever was

"Thank you."

Andrew stirs in his arms, lifts his head.

"I'll tell you everything," he says, a touch muffled. "I will, I promise. I want to. It's just ... some of it's hard, and there's so much of it."

"I know," Max soothes. His hand strokes gently at Andrew's hair. "I don't want to overwhelm you too much. So, we'll take it a little at a time. And I'll tell you more about me too. Okay?"

He finally draws back so he can look Andrew in the face better. "Can you tell me what you were doing for a living before you got taken to that other world? Did you have a job in California?"

"I ... I'd moved to New York by then," he says slowly. "Sort of. Half in New York and half at the Academy in the UK. I was ..." A long breath. "See, this is why I asked before about supernatural creatures. I was working with people who fight them."

As he talks, his gaze drops to his hands in his lap, but at the same time he becomes a little more animated. This is something he knows, an explanation he's given countless times, until it's grown smooth in his mouth.

"There's ... in that world there's something called a Vampire Slayer. There used to be only one in every generation, there's a lot of them now. She -- it's always a girl -- she's got superhuman strength, agility, perception, and she has all these things so she can slay vampires. And for centuries there was an organization called the Watchers' Council, who studied the lore and kept diaries of each Slayer's life, and assigned one Watcher to train and look after each Slayer. I ... I was working with the New Watchers' Council, at the Slayers' Academy. After all the potential Slayers got Called at once, and we needed to train as many as we could all togther."

A beat. "That was one of my jobs. That was the bigger one. The other one was ... a little group of supernatural troubleshooters in New York City. I was sort of support staff for them."

He soaks all that in with a carefully neutral expression on his face. How strange. Worlds can be so similar in some ways and so different in others.

"I take it vampires are still maintaining secrecy in your world and killing people? Otherwise, why would you need to hunt them?" He's not really mad about that. Vampires are, well, bloodsuckers. They might be tame in Max's own world, but he remembers the stories of how it was before the Accords.

"We have an organization in my world, too, that handles the supernatural, but it's all done officially, and with full public knowledge. We call it IOPSA."

He nods at the question about vampires and secrecy. "I mean a lot of people know, there's this whole sort of subculture that knows about vampires and demons and magic and everything, but ... most people don't, and think none of it's real."

And he hesitates before saying "I didn't know any of it was real until I was like fifteen. And there was a lot of it in my town."

Max nods. Yes, there's a subculture around such things in his world too. There are even establishments that cater to the curiosity of tourists who want to see a vampire but in a nice and safe fashion.

And then, beyond that, there are actually people in his world that simply refuse to acknowledge any of it as real. They stick their heads in the sand and pretend they can't see it. Max isn't sure which group is more foolish.

"What happened when you were fifteen? How did you find out?"

A faint, distant smile. "My brother ..."

He has to stop for a moment at the unexpected pain in his throat, like the word brother had some hidden barb in it. Without thinking he reaches for his coffee mug and takes a swallow; the bitterness and heat make him wince, but it clears his throat to keep talking.

"My older brother, Tucker. He got into all of it before I did. And one day out of the blue, he just said hey, show you something. And he summoned up this tiny, tiny little water demon, in an empty mayonnaise jar, and then banished it again. And I was like: most amazing thing ever, right? And then he said there was more to it, a lot more, and he ... he showed me which books were the real deal, and how I could use what was in them, and ... "

That smile again, painful and nostalgic all at once.

"And that was where it started," he finishes.

There's something more to this. He can hear it in Andrew's voice, see it in the nervous gestures. The way he talks... makes it sound like the beginning of the end.

"Did something happen to him?" Max asks quietly.

"Not ... not last I heard from him." Very soft. "Just, that was a while ago. I think he's okay? Probably? But we haven't, I mean, even before I ... before I left. Hadn't talked in a while."

He shrugs, small and resigned. "I don't know if he even knows I'm gone."

A wave of relief washes over him. It's not great to hear Andrew and his brother have, by the sounds of it, a strained relationship but that sure beats some of the alternatives.

"I'm sorry to hear it. Sometimes things just... don't work out. But, then, family can be what you make for yourself too, right? I think you'll find people here who care for you." Max already does. "I know it won't be the same, but it's something."

For a moment he doesn't look up; then it's a slow uncertain glance from lowered eyes, halfway to wary, as though there's some implication in Max's words that he hasn't quite grasped and isn't sure he wants to.

"People," he echoes.

"Yeah..." Andrew looks so wary. What does he think Max means by this?

"I mean like friends." Andrew would like more friends, wouldn't he?

"I'm your," he hesitates only briefly, "Master. You aren't allowed to let anyone else take my place as that. But you should still learn to socialize. Wouldn't you like that?"

"But I ..."

But I'm yours now, is what he wants to say, aren't I supposed to be yours now? Only he can't explain even to himself why that feels like it stands against the entire concept of other people. People who -- who might --

He grasps hold of the one definite thing Max says, you aren't allowed to let anyone else take my place as that, and it feels like a life raft.

"If you want me to," he says, and that's firmer, if still unsteady. "Are, are there any ... any other people who belong to you?"

"Not the way you're thinking of, no."

There's a pang of sadness in his chest. Andrew looks so distraught just at the idea of meeting others. But that's not good. Max can't be the only person he ever socializes with. He may have to go slow, Max realizes, but they will get him out there.

"I have people I care about and who care about me. Friends, lovers, people who are both. That's what I'd like you to be able to have too. But not because I told you to. I want you to... have meaningful relationships for yourself."

Andrew swallows hard, and closes his eyes.

Very small, almost inaudible: "What if they try to make me leave you."

(His tone doesn't sound like a question at all, as though the if means when.)

Max looks ill. He takes another sip of his coffee to both fill the lengthening silence and wet his suddenly dry mouth.

It's only a matter of time. He knows it because he's lived it. It didn't take long after people found out what he was, for them to start trying to convince him to forsake his Master forever. And that was with his master being far away. Max is here. He is actively participating in it.

What will his friends and family think of him doing the one thing he swore he'd never do? Will they understand his reasons?

"Maybe it would be best if we didn't tell anyone about the true nature of our relationship. If they don't know then the won't try to interfere." He feels queasy just suggesting it, but he needs time. This needs to come to light in a controlled manner.

Andrew, for his part, knows because he's lived it too.

His eyes snap open wide at the suggestion, and he nods quickly, eagerly, seizing on the solution. "I won't, I won't tell anyone. I can -- I can keep a secret, I promise --"

It'll mean anyone else he meets here won't know what he really is, he realizes. But ... maybe he can live with that, this time. Maybe it'll be all right if only Max knows what he is, and still wants him.

"Okay. Good. And... just to be safe I..." He takes a deep breath. "I order you to keep this secret from everyone."

It still makes him sick to do it like that, but it is the safest way.

"If anyone tries to press you on it, you can tell them that we are in a relationship but that it's not exclusive. They can talk to me if they have concerns. Will that be okay?"

"Yes, my l--" He catches himself, with another flicker of alarm in his eyes, and hastily corrects "-- Max."

It doesn't feel right at all, using his master's bare name, but that's what he's been ordered to do.

"Don't worry," Max says reassuringly. He heard that near slip-up. "You'll get accustomed to it eventually. This is necessary to keep anyone from asking questions."

For how long, comes a thought unbidden. How long is he going to be able to keep this under control? As long as he has to, he tells himself. But the more he thinks about it, the less sure he gets.

"In the meantime, we need to figure out what the hell we are going to do with you here. I keep a pretty busy social schedule. And some of that is...private time --if you catch my drift? So I can't have you at my side twenty-four-seven." But how can he send the man away either?

"So, tell you what? I have a cafe I own and operate here. How would you like to work there? It would give you a chance to meet and interact with people in a controlled environment."

"I ..." He hesitates. "Maybe? I mean, if you want me to, of course, but ... I, I don't mind being on my own."

He glances around the room, uncertainly, trying to picture where he might be placed here, waiting for Max to return. This is a bedroom and not a study, but --

This is a bedroom. A faint, slow misgiving comes over him.

"But you," slowly, "you'd want this room for private time."

"Yeah," Max nods. "Yeah, I have lovers that are used to being able to come over any time. They won't know you. Some of them won't want you around to witness what we do. Probably a lot of them won't. So, we'll have to figure out what to do with you when that happens."

Max is already trying to calculate how much favor he has saved up. Would it be enough to add a second bedroom into this one? A second room with a door that connects, so Andrew can be here but separate. Maybe that could work?

There's something else too. Something he really needs Andrew to understand.

"Andrew, let me level with you here. My end goal is to slowly ween you into independence. I know that sounds impossible right now, but I have to believe there's a way. I swear, I will take care of you and keep you until I find it, but I will always be hoping there will come a day when I can set you free."

The look Andrew gives him at the last words is one of blank dismay, slowly verging on betrayal. His lips move silently, no and I and but, before pressing together palely as he swallows hard and seems to crumple inward on himself.

"Oh," is what he finally says, the word almost soundless.

That look. It breaks Max's heart. But he can't take it back. No matter how much he wants to reassure Andrew. He means this. They are in a world where wishes come true. There IS a way, Max just has to find it. He WILL find it.

"I'm sorry. I know that's not what you want to hear. It's my hope that by the time we make it that far, your feelings will have changed too. Until then, I swear you are mine. Only mine. Okay?"

Max leans into Andrew, to draw him close in a warm embrace. "This whole thing is going to be a process. We'll just take it a day at a time." Before Max can think better of it, he brushes a kiss to Andrew's crown.

Andrew tries to say okay in response to the question, but his throat's closed completely. He leans into Max's arms, struggling not to cling to him, struggling not to cry.

Maybe it's the kiss on his head, or maybe it's the words a day at a time and their terrible echo from more years ago than he can immediately recall, that overwhelm the struggle and start him weeping again.

"Please," and it comes out choked, blurred, barely a word at all. "Please --"

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adding this in for the AU

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