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Date Posted: 00:37:47 02/19/02 Tue
Author: Tristan and Rowan
Subject: It's not ALL my fault!
In reply to: Saras 's message, "Little things like Happiness" on 16:37:37 02/18/02 Mon

Tristan was more than a little surprised by Saras’ reaction to his sudden outburst. He supposed he already kind of knew that the genie was timid beyond measure. Still, that was no reason for him to stare at Tristan as if he were ordering his death sentence, instead of simply ordering him to shut up and leave the room. His wide-eyed stare and tiny, shaking fists stung Tristan in a way he wasn’t prepared for, leaving him feeling confused as hell when the little genie finally jumped to his feet and fled the kitchen.

Don’t feel sorry for him, he urged himself, He was the one who had the nerve to suggest you let Jeremy have Marz “for just a little while!” But the guilt still nagged at him somewhat—shit, he’d just never actually brought someone to tears like that before, though! It made him feel like he was the jerk here, like he was going around purposefully picking on people just for his own personal enjoyment.

“SHIT!” Marz suddenly yelled, startling him out of his scattered thoughts, “Dinner is ruined because of you two!” Obviously angry, he then threw his napkin down and stormed off, presumably to console Saras. Tristan, fuming once again, glared across at Jeremy. The little punk glared right back at him, apparently unintimidated, before he grabbed his pack and left the room as well.

At this point, he became aware of the new additions to the room, although he scarcely considered Barry to be a real person. Argus was looking at him with a slightly disgusted look on his face, and Corum…Corum, strangely enough, looked as though he’d been waiting all along for something like this to happen.

“Stop it!” he snapped at them. “I’m not the bad guy here!” In a fit of renewed anger, he flung a wooden chair out from under the table and against the wall, the sound echoing noisily in the stone walls of the tower. “Damn it, I’m not!” he insisted, sudden tears of frustration gathering in his eyes. He paced a little, feeling like a caged animal in the tiny kitchen, balling his fists up and glaring at Corum as if it were all his fault.

When Erlic and Ravin entered the room, he couldn’t stand it anymore. Marz’s teacher was one who had never liked him anyway, so he just swept out of the room, storming down the hallway like a black tornado. He stepped into the first empty room he encountered, slamming the wooden door so hard behind him that it bounced back, one of the hinges completely knocked off so that it dangled on one corner a bit.

“It’s not my fault!” he continued to rage, punching angrily at the wall. (Which was kind of stupid, since not even his high and mighty immortal flesh did well when smashed against hard stone like that.) He continued kicking and hitting various pieces of furniture, taking his frustration out on musty old pillows and rickety tables since he knew it was impossible to actually challenge the one he hated so badly to a real fight.

And he did hate Jeremy! He really did! So why did the others all think he was so great, while Tristan was the temperamental jealous fool who let his oversensitive emotions run away with him? He had every right to be angry!

Why, for gods’ sakes, he’d literally caught Jeremy in bed with Marz at one point—not just in bed, but both of them naked in bed, in what looked suspiciously like an advanced stage of foreplay! If that weren’t enough, earlier today he’d caught them again together, once again naked, once again sharing what appeared to be an intimate moment.

“How?” he growled to himself, still throwing things, even though it wasn’t making him feel any better. “How am I the bad guy in all this?”

~*~*~*~*~

Rowan was on his way to the clothing room, if only to see what was taking the women so long (at least that’s what he told himself, anyway), when he was suddenly stopped short by a series of loud banging noises. It sounded like someone was literally ransacking a room!

Keeping both hands on his swords, he made his way cautiously toward the room the sounds were emanating from. He gave the broken door a suspicious look as he peeked inside, immediately relaxing and even breathing a sigh of relief when he saw it was just Tristan.

“Who said you were a bad guy?” he asked, crossing his arms and cocking his head at the dragon. Tristan obviously did not appreciate the interruption, but Rowan was used to taking far more potent attacks than a mere heated look, so he remained unfazed, waiting patiently for an answer to his inquiry.

“All of them!” Tristan finally spat, sweeping his arm out as if to indicate the entire world—though Rowan had a good feeling the dragon’s personal world never consisted of more than himself and a few other people at any one moment in time.

“Jeremy again,” Rowan sighed, making it more of a statement than a question. Tristan shot him a shocked look, but he ignored it. “I knew he wouldn’t listen to me,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Damned, foolish, stupid kid…”

“How’d you know?” Tristan asked, his anger momentarily forgotten.

“Fate, the gods, mysterious Forces, call it what you will,” he quipped. Naturally, that gained him a very sour look, but he didn’t particularly care. “Look, don’t worry how I guessed, just tell me what happened and who’s where now.”

Luckily for him, Tristan obviously needed someone to talk to, since under normal circumstances the dragon would have just told him to go to hell and mind his own damned business. Once he had all the sketchy details in order, he nodded slowly, one finger pulling thoughtfully on a strand of his hair while he mulled all this over.

“Why should Jeremy’s advances bother you, anyway?” he asked.

This took Tristan off guard, apparently, for he immediately looked up and said, frowning, “Because he’s totally unlike me. He throws himself all over Marz, and Marz loves that. Sometimes I wish I could be like—

A look of horror passed over the dragon’s features, making Rowan chuckle. It was probably rather unsettling to realize you admired the person you thought you hated with such passion.

“It’s something to think about,” he said, turning from the room. Leaving Tristan to his thoughts, he glanced into the rooms nearest the kitchen, managing to find Jeremy only on his third try. The kid looked absolutely miserable, and he had the bottle of wine in one hand and cigarette in the other to prove it.

Trying to breath as shallowly as possible, so that his thrice-damned allergies wouldn’t act up, Rowan entered the room casually and grabbed his own bottle from the cart, taking a seat on the other end of the bed Jeremy was sitting on.

“Want to talk about something?” he asked calmly, uncorking the bottle and taking a sip before fixing his young friend with a frank but compassionate look.

~*~*~*~*~

But Tristan was more the unsettled. He was absolutely floored. Had he really almost said that? He wished he could be more like Jeremy sometimes?

It couldn’t be true, it just couldn’t. He chewed on his lip while switching his thoughts to his earlier conversation with Corum, remembering how his friend had mentioned something about Marz always needing company, especially when he was feeling kind of vulnerable around the edges.

And that’s when clever Jeremy always stepped in, of course. While Tristan was busy fuming by himself, the little wisp of a kid slipped in and made his move, endearing himself to Marz in a way that Tristan was now positive he himself had yet to do. It was so plain and obvious, he was stunned he hadn’t realized it a long time ago.

He was still angry with Jeremy. He was positive that he had every right to be. But the genie…damn. I shouldn’t have yelled at him like that. Shit, I shouldn’t have threatened him in front of everybody. Even Marz thought I was a jerk for doing that!

He, too, left the room, wandering that part of the tower to search for Marz, whom he was pretty sure had run after Saras. It didn’t take long for him to find them. They were seated on the floor, and Marz even had his arms around the little genie, whose face, sure enough, was wet and red with tears.

He felt himself stiffen to see them so close together, but immediately he forced the feeling away. Marz is like that with others, he told himself furiously. Get used to it!

Stupid and selfish, he knew, to think that Marz would change for his benefit. He should be the one to change, to be like Jeremy and always take every opportunity to prove his own personal adoration of the one he loved. But right now he was fairly positive Marz was too pissed to so much as hold his hand. He kept his distance as he approached the pair, frowning at the terrified look Saras shot him, and the subsequent tightening of Marz’s arms around him.

“You don’t have to do that,” he sighed, a touch angered by the reaction. He stood awkwardly for a few seconds before kneeling down beside him, sitting back on his heels to stare at them both. “Look…Saras…”

Well, did you mean to do it or not? Just say it, idiot!

“I didn’t mean to threaten you like that,” he said, his voice sounding even quieter and more clumsy than usual. “I was just pissed off at Jeremy and shouldn’t have snapped at you, too. It’s just that…I’m not…used to loving another person so much…and I guess always having to worry about losing him. Your suggestion about Jeremy getting a chance with Marz, well it just…I mean, it kind of really…”

Come on, be a big dragon. Get it out.

“It really hurt me,” he mumbled, no longer looking at Saras as he spoke. He sure as hell couldn’t meet Marz’s angry gaze now, but he knew that Corum said not to leave him alone, so he wasn’t going to stomp off again and leave him alone this time.

All in all, it wasn’t exactly an apology, but this was Tristan. It really was the best he could do, given the circumstances. Only Marz was occasionally graced with genuine, heartfelt I’m sorry’s, but he thought that even if he did manage to scrounge one of those up for his lover, he would likely be rebuked.

Tristan knew that Marz was disappointed in him, and it made him feel more miserable than he would have ever thought possible. He wasn’t exactly sure how to fix things, or who to blame and who to forgive, but he sure as hell was going to try, even if his damned pride got somehow lost in the dust behind his tail somewhere.

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