stilljustandrew | [ainmhianverse] same as it ever was

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 --"

Shit. Oh shit. Something he's said was exactly the wrong thing. He doesn't know what, but it doesn't take a genius to figure it out with Andrew suddenly weeping in his arms again. Was it the kiss? Too far? God, he's really fucking this up. He was doing so well before...while he was still playing by his Master's rulebook.

"Hey. Shhh," he tries to sooth the man, stroking his hair softly. "Hey, I'm sorry. I'm not going anywhere. Okay? I'm not going to leave you. And I'm not going to turn you away. I promised, remember. I promised I'd take care of you. I will."

"I'm sorry," and he's trying to wipe his eyes before he can get Max's shirt wet, but the tears are spilling out as uncontrollably as the words, "I don't, I don't want to be alone again, please don't leave me alone again, please."

It takes a few moments for Max's murmured reassurances to get through to him, and a little longer for the horrible lost feeling, like falling through an endless cold void, to start to fade. Even once the weeping stops, he's still trembling, leaning against Max's chest.

"I thought ..." And while the words were pouring out before, now each one has to be forced through. "I didn't say it right, before. I'm sorry. I thought -- I thought you understood. What I am."

Max will take away any hopes of his shirt not getting wet, by purposefully holding his sleeve down and using it to mop Andrew's face.

"I'm not going to leave you alone..."

His breath catches in his throat at those words. What Andrew is. Yes... he knows. He doesn't want to accept it. But he knows.

"A stray dog who wants a master," Max says softly. "And you deserve a master who wants you too."

Max closes his eyes and lets go of a deep breath. He committed to this. He knew when he said those words. He knew what he was signing up for. No backing out now.

"I do want you. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said what I did before. I want you, for as long as you want me too."

Andrew draws in one sobbing breath and lurches forward, off of his stool, to crumple to his knees on the floor beside Max's. The seat is too high for him to put his head down in Max's lap, but he can lean his forehead against Max's knee, and does.

He's trying to say thank you, and can't make the words come out without bursting into tears again.

At first, Max fears Andrew has fallen. Then he realizes what's really happened and his gut twists in on itself. His Pet has gone to his knees in front of Max, in thanks and also surrender. Max does his best to quell the queasy feeling at his core and strokes Andrew softly on his head.

"Okay. Okay. Andrew... I...you're welcome. Okay? Now, come back up here with me, please? You haven't even touched your coffee. Do you not like it?"

He moves at once when Max says come back up here, climbing to his feet and wiping his eyes, and then hoists himself back onto his own stool.

"I -- no, it's good, I --" He reaches for the coffee mug, takes a swallow, does his best to suppress a wince at the bitterness.

That face does not convince Max at all.

"Okay, that's gonna stop." Max reaches for the cup in Andrew's hand and gently lifts it away.

"Little lies like that one are not what I want to hear. I don't need you to protect my feelings. Please, tell me what you really think of the coffee."

A faint, blotchy flush of shame rises to his face, and he lowers his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he half-whispers. "I, I know I asked for coffee, but ... I'm used to it sweet, with milk or cream, and I -- I didn't want to -- I'm sorry."

"Shh, it's okay. Apology already accepted." Max pats his head again then gets up and goes to the refrigerator.

"One thing you should know about me right away is that I never consider it a bother to fix someone food or drink exactly how they like it. It's actually one of my greatest joys; always has been."

He comes back with a jug of fresh milk and a container of sugar. He lays those and a spoon down in front of Andrew.

"Here, show me how you usually like it."

A tiny, fragile smile begins to form on Andrew's face. He hesitates for only a moment -- is this all right? really? -- before reaching for the spoon.

Slowly, as though still expecting to be told to stop, he starts to spoon sugar into his coffee; he stops at four heaping spoonfuls and stirs vigorously to convince all of it to dissolve, and then adds a generous amount of milk. The coffee is not quite as pale as his skin, but not much darker, by the time he gives it a last stir and lifts the mug to his lips.

His eyes close at the first taste, and his smile widens.

Max sits and watches with the most placid face he can muster. It's just coffee and yet even this task is full of trepidation. Clearly, it's going to take a lot of time to unpick all the knots Andrew has been tied into. But at the end of it all, there's that smile. That's it. That's what Max is doing it for. It will be worth it in the end.

"There, that's what I like seeing," Max's smile mirrors his. "I'd really like to know when you have preferences like this. I'd like you to tell me. Stuff like what type of condiments you eat on your food, or if you prefer red or white wine, favorite colors, preferred type of fabric for your clothes... all of it. You don't have to tell me all at once, but if it pops into your head, I'd like you to go ahead and say it."

He reaches to Andrew and pats his arm, "I guess you could say I'm the kind of master that likes to dote. I want to hear about your opinions on things. That will make you a better companion to me." And, hopefully, both of them better friend over time.

That will make you a better companion to me; all right, there's a framing he can grasp hold of, that makes sense. He takes another swallow of coffee, thinking about it.

And then hesitantly ventures: "If that's what you want, then of course, but ... but what if my opinions aren't good? I, I've been having things my own way for a long time now, I'm ... I'm afraid I might be, um. A little spoiled."

He's back on track. He can tell because Andrew doesn't fight it this time. As much as framing it that way makes Max want to be sick, it's what he needs to do to get through. Small steps for both of them.

"You're allowed to have a different opinion than mine. I won't punish you for it. And I'm probably not going to characterize them as good or bad, except in maybe some really big cases."

That talk of him being spoiled makes Max want to lean over and hug the man. Good, he wants to say. Good! Keep being spoiled. But he restrains himself.

"The big things being like... do you think it's okay to murder people? I mean, I hope you agree with me on that one."

The coffee mug slips from his fingers and clatters onto the empty plate, rocking and spilling a little but not falling onto its side. Andrew's face has gone white again, and he can't make himself look Max in the face.

"No," he says, almost soundlessly, beginning to shake his head side to side as though to say it with gesture if he can't with voice, again and again.

(What he wants to say and can't: please don't make me.)

"Andrew!" Max grabs for his hand and squeezes it tight. "I don't either. So we agree. And I'll never ask you to do that. Understand? Never!

"In fact, I order you to never use violence on another person except if you are protecting yourself or someone else. Do you hear me?"

"Yes," and he shuts his eyes in abject relief, clinging to Max's hand. "Yes, Max."

(An order. A rule. This rule. It feels like he's been groping blindly along a vertiginous cliffside, tearing wind around him and ice underfoot, and finally found a strong guiding rail under his hand; it feels like an arm around him, a voice murmuring I won't let you fall.)

"Thank you," he adds after a moment, small and unsteady. "I'm, I'm sorry I keep ..."

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adding this in for the AU

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