deercountry | Birthday Party

Birthday Party

Who: Paul Atreides and all his CR
What: Throwing everyone’s favorite Duke a surprise birthday party
When: Forwarded dated to April 1st
Where: Bone House in Gaze

Content Warnings: Drinking, underage drinking, drugs (both fictional and not), drawings of space worms, skeletons, will add further warnings if necessary

When you arrive at the house in Gaze, (affectionately known as Bone House), a skeleton will open the door and offer to take your coat if you have one. No need to take your shoes off or anything!

The large house has been decorated with black streamers and confetti. In the entryway and hung on the railing to the second floor that overlooks the entrance to the great room are large banners that say “HAPPY BIRTHDAY PAUL” (though one looks like it used to say “Jaune” but was just painted over? Whatever).

In the Living Room, there is a large board and various colored markers for people to write messages to the birthday boy. There is also a table full of bottled water and various couches, chairs, and beanbags to collapse into if the party gets to be too much and one needs a quiet place to rest or a place to chill if you’ve imbibed too much… well, whatever you had.

It is also where all the food and drinks are.

There’s an extremely large charcuterie board with the usual meats, cheeses, and olives as well as an extremely eccentric collection of snacks ranging from individual sized Cheez-it bags, to humungous bags of Doritos and salty chips, as well as nearly every kind of Oreo one can imagine.

There are also various cakes, all angel food. Some are misshapen, some have an attempt at being frosted with whipped cream and fruit, one even says “Happy Birthday Ka-” before that was hastily covered with a bunch of strawberries jammed really close together.

At the island, a skeleton is playing bartender. Surprisingly, it can seem to take and understand individual orders, but there’s always a constant flow of tequila shots being made and sent out to the great hall to be served by another skeleton.

And, no, of course it’s not going to check your age to see if you’re legal. It’s a skeleton. Why would it care?

The Great Hall is the center of activity and where everyone is encouraged to mingle and have fun. There is a skeleton on the grand piano in the corner gleefully playing piano covers of the hits from the Shrek Soundtrack with the occasional cover of “DaRude’s Sandstorm” when it has another one to help out.

In another corner, on huge piece of paper that spans nearly 6ft wide and 8ft tall is drawing of an Arrakis sandworm and it’s giant maw. The game is Pin the Tooth on the Sandworm and it’s… very easy… because the worm maw is most of the board. Even if the skeleton spins you as you’re blindfolded, it’s pretty hard to lose. If you manage to do it, which is likely, the skeleton running the game will award you a tequila shot! If you lose, the skeletons will award you a tequila shot (but it’s rail).

(It’s a drinking game, isn’t the point to drink?)

There’s also a table that has many candelabras on it, numbering up to seventeen. They’re still lit and burning even though there is a sign that says “make a wish!” even though it almost looks like a shrine for the dead.

…It’s maybe clear that the concept of “birthday candles” was greatly misunderstood.

There is also a skeleton dealing out small doses of “Spice”, a psychoactive drug straight outta the Duneverse. However, you must check in with this Skeleton to get a dose. There will be no “permanently melting your brain with ancestral memories” at this party!

Teacher’s/God’s/Jod’s/The Emperor Undying’s study, adjacent to the main hall, is closed and locked. Though, the lock is fairly easy to break if someone really wanted to get in. There’s not even skeletons guarding.

That said, many things are warded with eerie runes of blood and bone.

So, fuck around and find out.

The upstairs is generally off limits. Party goers can climb up the stairs, and it’s encouraged if they want to look over the Great Room from above, but all of the bedrooms are carefully guarded by more skeletons who will SCREAM VERY LOUDLY if you try to enter and will become hostile if done by force.

Of course, this won’t happen if you are with someone who lives in the house.

Enjoy the party! Mingle away!

((ooc: if you have any questions or anything, please hit me up at

worldtype)) or via PM.))

Birthday Board | At the Party | The Morning After | IC Party Games | Spice Dealer

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Between the sound of running water, the warm blankets, Paul's heartbeat against his back, and the gentle fingers running up and down his rib, Kaworu's eyes start to feel heavy. Omurice fades from his mind as the idea of going back to sleep starts to seep in and take over.

He yawns when Midoriya exits the bathroom, debating to ask him just to come back to bed. He blinks up at the hero with sleepy curiosity as Midoriya comes over to examine the condom, the big XXL letters on the packaging reflecting in the bathroom light. The wrong size. Kaworu takes another sip of water, considering the package and the other condom he just opened.

Oh.

He chokes on the thankfully small sip of water, making a sound between hiccup and a sneeze, as he tries to swallow it all back down so he can laugh at Paul's expense.

"Oh! He's right." They've been roommate for awhile. Kaworu knows. Then he extends his hand further towards the green-haired hero. "You should take then. It seems more your size, you're... muscled."

Paul lifts his head from behind Kaworu's, eyes narrowed in glittering challenge amid the smeared remnants of last night's eyeliner.

"I don't think Midoriya-kun has any eggplants at hand," Paul says, archly, "And Sensei Lawrence comes from a martial culture which prizes physical vigor as an aspect of manhood. I'm sure the gift is intended symbolically."

Paul has watched enough of the films suggested by Sensei Lawrence (and requested by Gideon on a semi-regular basis) to have reasonable confidence in his ability to sell the improvised sociological explanation if pressed. He's not going to sit idly by while people impugn his sensei, even if they're mostly right.

The comments on sizing of fruit, so to speak, don't bother him. They're practically nostalgic, like the crudely affectionate ribbing of soldiers.

"Besides, even an eggplant might not be sufficient to fill these," he says, mildly speculative, "Now, if we had a relatively small sand worm to protect from the rain...nothing inside gets wet, yes?"

For a second, he thought Kaworu was going to say "thick." It's the kind of unbridled cursed energy he exudes. It's in Kaworu's eyes, if not his words. Midoriya flushes deeper and does not take the condom. He thinks going downstairs with bits of lubricant on him would be difficult to explain to other members of the household.

"Womanhood too," he adds automatically to Paul. In Midoriya's world, the US is not without its problems, but their #1 Hero is undeniably built like a tank and hits like one too.

Midoriya returns to making pointed eye contact with Paul's darkly smudged ones. He couldn't directly mock the size of "bananas." That's rude; people can't help the way they're born. He can be dubious about Paul and Johnny's judgment regarding protection. He says nothing about the worm or anything it resembles; everyone's got their weird hobbies.

"If there's no eggplants in the kitchen, there's probably something growing on the house."

If there's a way to ensure safety, Midoriya will be obstinate about it. He's going to sex educate his friends if it kills him. It probably will, given how much blood keeps rushing to his face. At least it's not rushing to other places.

"It's always worms with you."

Kaworu flops back down onto the bed with a long suffering sigh. There's was a lot of worm last night. Surely, Paul must be satisfied for at least a bit of time!

"Let us know if you find an eggplant, Izuku-kun." He calls to the poor teen hero's retreating back and taking note of the twitch. Then it's oddly silent except the sound of he and Paul breathing and the creaking of an old house.

Idly, he reaches for Paul's hand, his arm still draped over Kaworu like a duvet, and runs his fingers along the top of Paul's. In some ways, it feels like there's been a fundamental shift, like very axis of the world has changed, and yet it also feels like nothing's changed at all.

"I thought it would be funny," Paul murmurs, once Midoriya is out of the room, taking his silence on the topic of burrowing worms with him. He would think more about that twitch and its accompanying flush, but Kaworu's hand traces over the back of his, and he can only do so much at a time under these conditions.

Conditions which have changed overnight, a shift in environmental homeostasis. He threads their fingers together and curls closer around the smaller boy, his face returning to the soft refuge of his hair.

"Last night," Paul says, quietly, "What happened with our bet. Was that all right?"

He would tell himself it must be, since Kaworu has let him stay this close, but that's not a real guarantee of anything. Or, as Midoriya pointed out, it might be a matter of memory.

"Yes. Why wouldn't it be?"

Is Kaworu's initial reply. Blunt, honest, without any attempt at delicacy. It's not usual for him at least. But it doesn't feel right this time. It feels harsh on his tongue. And like it leaves chalky residue in the air. He shifts, squeezing Paul's hand, stretching his legs out so he can hook a foot under Paul's knee.

"I'm always alright with you." He means it. Paul doesn't always have to be steady or smart or brave for Kaworu to be alright with him. He just has to be. The warm puffs of air on his neck after each inhale are ticklish yet soothing. He remembers the spice and losing track of his body, like they were one being. It was nice.

He tilts his head back as though he could look up at Paul if he twisted far enough. A playful look on his unseen face. "Still... I can't believe you won so quickly."

Paul huffs in mock offense that doesn't mask the underlying profound relief of it. He's pliant for Kaworu's rearranging of his legs, content to be entangled.

The water has helped him feel better. So too have the metabolic processes he's been coaxing into heightened efficiency, filtration and regeneration turned up to an upper tolerable limit. The downside is how warm it makes him, and the sticky sheen of sweat breaking out over his skin as his body shifts toxic byproducts out through every channel available.

His heart has to beat quickly to keep up with it all, but that's not the only reason it jumps and shivers.

"You let me win," he accuses, very gently, and in a fit of daring blows a cool stream of air across the delicate fuzz at the nape of Kaworu's neck, just to see what happens. "I don't mind, though."

"I didn't!" Kaworu insists with a soft laugh at the ticklish sensation at the back of his neck, tickling hairs that he often forgets are even there. "You did surprise me with your words, though I'd like to see you plan a party."

Paul's heartbeat is rapid against his back, it almost feels like the whirring of an S^2 organ, but he can still hear the distinctive beats of a human heart that is far more soothing. Giving Paul's leg a playful little tap, he 'hms' thoughtfully.

"In Japan, the sound of a human heart beat is doki doki. It often appears when one character has a crush on another." The thoughtfulness quickly flips into something playful.

"...And you are awfully sweaty."

This is both a tease and a statement of fact because they are very close right now.

"Doki doki," Paul echoes, in equal thoughtfulness, tapping out each syllable on Kaworu's ribs. He has, at least, figured out what crush means, having sought out the definition after his conversation with Anna (who he vaguely thinks might be pleased with how this turned out).

He knows what it means, but not what it's supposed to feel like. He's lying in a bed with someone he kissed, entwined like vines, and as he told Midoriya - he knows things. He isn't unaware of the implications.

But the definitions he read all made it seem like it should hurt, and this doesn't. Everywhere they're touching feels like a balm, the faint vibration of Kaworu's chest as soothing as it ever is. He could drift like this for hours, or at least until Midoriya came back, if he let himself.

"I should get up, then. Take a shower," Paul says, then, with a flutter of hesitant suggestion, "Brush my teeth, in case I surprise you again."

"Doki doki."

Kaworu agrees, softly. It doesn't really matter that Paul is a gross, sweaty mess right now and all of that is seeping into his pajamas. His affection outweighs any potential disgust.

He could doze for hours like this, just content to be. He wonders how it must feel to be without, like Sayo, and considers how lucky he is that he gained reward from his risk instead of nursing heartbreak. If only it weren't so complicated.

Then Paul shifts slightly, like he's making moves to get up, and Kaworu rolls over to half-face him.

"Do you think you get a kiss every time you surprise me?"

Edited (wtf am i doin) 2022-04-21 00:03 (UTC)

One of the things Paul finds fascinating about Kaworu is the ruthlessness he sometimes has in cutting through all the chaff of social rituals. He plunges to the heart of things, fearlessly direct. He's done it to Paul on several occasions before this one.

But that was then, and this is Kaworu looking up at him with bold crimson eyes as he twists against Paul's overheated body and sets his pulsing head spinning. Despite the two glasses of water, his mouth is dry, and he swallows as he glances down, which doesn't help at all when he ends up focused on his mouth instead.

"No," he protests, too quick and too quiet, "I don't- I don't expect anything."

He drops his gaze lower, to the collar of Kaworu's pajamas, where he finds a loose thread to fixate on.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to."

Kaworu laughs, softly and then a little louder by the end. It's a laugh of someone who is charmed that someone would say such a silly thing. It's so human to have these doubts. And doubts are something Kaworu has learned he too has but, not here, not now. He would kiss Paul for every surprise, he's alright with that.

"I know. I've spent my life doing things I don't want to do."

He reaches up to card a hand through Paul's sweaty curls, tucking some locks behind his ear, just as he did last night. Then he leans forward and presses his lips to Paul's forehead before dropping back down on the bed, pressing his own forehead against Paul's.

"I'm here because it is my will to be here."

Paul's eyelashes flutter as he leans into Kaworu's touch, a tiny hum between surprise and pleasure drawn out of him by the kiss to his forehead. He tightens his arm around Kaworu, all thoughts of getting up temporarily dispelled.

"I'm glad," he says, softly, finally lifting his gaze back to Kaworu's. He can see him so much better in the glow of their bedroom's lunar orbs than he could in the closet. There are subtle variation in the red of his irises, this close. He wants to memorize them, shade by shade.

"So it's all right if I kiss you again?" Paul asks, and there's a faint edge of teasing in the quiet question, overshadowed by the low husk of his half-closed throat.

Kaworu curls up beneath Paul's arm, accepting that he'll be covered in sweat and it's worth it. In the moment, that little hum is the most beautiful thing he's ever heard. He lets Paul appreciate him, look into his eyes, he doesn't flinch away, he just stays there, being admired like a portrait and feeling like a beautiful creature instead of an abomination.

"Hmmm, I guess you can," Kaworu's voice comes out teasing, melodic, but eager.

Paul says nothing to that. He only smiles, slight and tilted, a gentle curve of anticipation under a heat-darkened gaze. He shifts against Kaworu just for the pleasant brush of friction between them, his thin t-shirt sliding reluctantly across his skin.

One secret of the boy who strives towards the impossible perfect is that, sometimes, he likes it better when things aren't.

The first kiss goes to the sharp pointed corner of Kaworu's teasing mouth, the second softly placed on its center. There's a split on his own lips he doesn't remember getting, a fine line of raw skin that stings when stretched, and there's none of the radiant bloom of spice to usher him on. They do need to brush their teeth. He's making a mess of both of them, and his head hurts, and he's happy.

Kaworu likes Paul's imperfections. He likes the rougher edges that Paul doesn't let a lot of people see. There's moments when he's clumsy, flummoxed, or even just dragged down by the dregs of sleepiness early in the morning. These traits are so endearingly human.

The first kiss makes him start to giggle, ribcage reverberating with a soft sound that is interrupted as the second kiss is pressed to his lips. He doesn't really mind their sour breath, though he's suddenly aware of how chapped his lips are and how dry his mouth is and how movement sometimes creates a stabbing sensation in his head.

Kaworu continues anyway. He slides a leg out from under Paul's and then kicks it over the taller boy's thighs, claiming his territory in the process.

Paul slides his hand to Kaworu's back, remembering the notched pearls of his spine, and he traces them from his neck to the small of his back. The draping of Kaworu's leg coaxes another hum from him, almost a question.

He'd thought there was a chance it was the spice that kindled the low heat in his belly, that made him so fervently anticipatory of the idea of drawing them flush together, but in the aching sober morning he's barely more temperate.

There are good reasons not to dip his fingers under the hem of Kaworu's shirt again, to glide upward along the path he just slipped down, but they're hard to recall through rising sensory static.

The sound Kaworu makes is a soft answer to Paul's hummed question as he feels warm fingers down his spine. Even without spice, he can feel every point of warm contact on his skin on skin, exhilarating and comforting all at once.

This feels nice. It feels easy. The warmth that flows from his core to the tips of every part of his body. He's satiated and yet wants more.

He pushes closer to Paul, twisting his fingers in those brown curls, unconcerned by the sweat clinging to the roots.

Midoriya is breaking in the new rice cooker. Prepping the sauce as best he can out of whatever's on hand gives Midoriya some much needed distraction. One thing at a time. For now, he (desperately) takes a simple joy in starting a dish of a size that's better shared.

Midoriya returns upstairs and knocks politely on the door. At Paul's muffled Come in, Midoriya enters. He's got an eggplant in his hand and resolve in his heart and nothing can stop him. He's going to make sure his friends are safe. Just like that one video he watched, he's got this.

"You said I could come in!!"

He holds the eggplant in front of him like a shield. It, of course, blocks nothing of the sweaty twine of his friends' bodies.

Edited 2022-04-26 04:11 (UTC)

Midoriya's dismay cuts through the balmy haze of Paul's thoughtlessness. He glances down at the blanket still covering most of them, all of their clothing more or less where it should be, except for the bared patch of skin on Kaworu's back.

That's easily corrected. Paul slips his hand free of Kaworu's shirt so he can tug the blanket higher, propping himself up on his other elbow as he does.

"Not so loud," Paul murmurs, settling his hand on Kaworu's side, "Unless you want everyone else to see your eggplant."

Paul had thought Midoriya was joking about the fruits and vegetables. Apparently not, but he won't judge. There are much odder and equally harmless proclivities out there in the universe.

"Come in and close the door," he amends, coaxing, pitched gently in the hopes of reassurance.

"Yes?"

Is Kaworu's response, clearly not particularly sympathetic to Midoriya's distress here. Humans have weird hangups about modesty but they're still fully clothed. Nothing scandalous at all.

Then he rolls over at the mention of eggplant, noticing it in Midoriya's hands. Immediately, he perks up, propping himself up on an elbow, unconsciously mirroring Paul, to gaze expectantly at the Pro-Hero turned sex educator before them.

"Oh, you found one. Are you really going to show us?"

Absurdly, hilariously, Midoriya doesn't care about lack of clothing on boys and on himself. If he wasn't already, communal facilities at UA desensitized him. Paul needlessly covering Kaworu just underscores how ridiculous his friends have been to him all morning. (Is it morning?) It's what they seemed to be doing, and not being sure he's allowed to be here while they do it, that he's helplessly confused about.

He hurriedly closes the door so they'll have privacy, realizes too late he's on the wrong (right?) side of it, decides this is what he wanted anyway. (Right?) That's why he brought the eggplant in the first place. (Still not as weird as worms, Paul.) Right--his mission.

"Y-yes." He shyly walks over and sets the eggplant down where he'd put the water pitcher earlier. He tries not to stare at how sweaty and flushed his friends look. It makes him feel warm. "I thought I'd see if you were ready for breakfast, but maybe I should just do this now..." As soon as humanly possible. "Did either of you even get up while I was gone?"

He begins intrepidly frisking the bed, hoping to find another condom.

"I was distracted," Paul admits, which is somewhat stating the obvious. Midoriya wasn't gone that long - or Paul lost more time than he thought he did.

For whatever reason, this demonstration seems very important to him, so Paul helpfully produces one of the condoms before Midoriya accidentally finds the knives tucked along the bed frame. He sets it down next to the eggplant and sinks back down, watching him thoughtfully.

He has a few idle inferences he might make about the cause of Midoriya's shyness, but Paul also guesses this comes down to differing cultural expectations, which means those inferences can't be trusted. He could keep trying to puzzle it out independently, but so far, that hasn't put him at ease.

"I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable," he says, sincerely, "We weren't - nothing was happening." He hesitates, then, running his tongue over still sleep-fuzzed teeth. "Is something wrong?"

Edited 2022-04-26 19:06 (UTC)

"I was the distraction," Kaworu clarifies for no one at all and looking deeply pleased with himself for it too. Though, he too can sense that Midoriya is quite serious about this presentation and he's already learned that one can't easily deny Midoriya when he's serious about something.

So to be helpful, he sits up a little, resting against pillows and Paul's body and takes the glass of water again, sipping it to show that he's getting prepared for... whatever is going to come. Then when he sets it back down, he takes the eggplant and offers it to Midorya.

"...Is something wrong?"

Edited 2022-04-26 19:27 (UTC)

Kaworu is very illuminating, an angel of light. He illuminates exactly nothing Midoriya didn't know already. Even the knives he has not discovered... He'd be surprised if Paul didn't keep a few around where he sleeps. It says something about Midoriya, and Paul, that he thinks it would be more normal to.

He never expects anything, least of all to be admitted to a room where by all rights it looks like he's interrupted something. The two in bed are unflustered by this, not resentful, even helpful. Midoriya concludes, a little desperately in confusion,

"No, actually." He doesn't even punctuate this with one of his false I'm fine smiles, though ironically everything is more fine than he thought. He hands the condom to Kaworu, the one who needs to learn how to put it on. He takes the offered eggplant, falters, unsure of the logistics in case his hands need to be free to help, then hands it to Paul instead.

"I'm just not sure why you let me in when you were busy." He sits on the bed with the familiar closeness of a friend who was just recently in it, but touches neither of them. It's almost laughable, considering the time they spent lounging or sleeping on each other. (On Midoriya, more accurately, like cats jealously guarding a favored seat.)

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better late than never cw: stupid teens playing with condoms

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