barrayar | I am junking up this beautiful community with this junk

Probably. If it's any consolation, we can act as a check on each other. Keep tabs.

[Gregor seems quite comfortable with this for someone who'd stared in horror at his file upon first arrival. That's what months living half in Miles's head will do you. Acclimation for anyone.

He's glad to see him slow down on eating, if only for that it means less implied worrying. Maybe he'll adjust as time goes on. Gregor is inferring some ugly things about his upbringing from this-- he'd never truly thought about how skinny Miles is for his size, since it's so obviously just from his absurd amount of energy and flinging himself pell-mell at everything, but...]

[ Miles, meanwhile, has skipped straight past the tea and gone on to getting out a bottle of wine. God, he needs something after all that. Admittedly half the mess was of his own devising, but ... now that it's over, he's not sure what to do. He's deflated. Cut in half. He can't figure out what metaphor suits him best.

So he returns that tiredness, gently, but also gratitude. And a bit of awe. Miles can lie up and down and sideways, but Gregor is a master of maneuvering people. Even Miles. Especially Miles. He snorts a bit, not quite ready to sit yet; he needs to pace a bit before resting, like a dog turning around three times.

He takes great comfort in that link though. Practically flopping halfway across it, lounging in it, soaking up Gregor's presence like a plant takes in water. ]

Dear god, no. I never did. This just makes it even worse.

[He reaches out and pours himself a glass of wine. There's an internal sense of... stroking across Miles's presence in his head, letting him know he's welcome, and at least a little sorry for having to shut him out for that time, no knowledge of what he's doing. It hadn't been that easy for Gregor either, he'd just been distracted.

And he admits he shyly revels in that bit of awe and gratitude. Gregor would've done it all anyway, obviously, but he's not immune to Miles's appreciation.]

I think the worst part is how... detached he is from all of it. He's studied the whole thing but felt none of it. [A sudden, short laugh, rough around the edges.] I had to actually approach it as a proper Jacksonian Deal, can you imagine? Liege-swearing.

[ It's a silent sign of trust, not eating everything in sight. If the clone were more nervous, he'd be operating under the unconscious assumption that the food would go away, and so he'd be packing it in before it could be taken from him. Instead, he's eating just a bit more than would be justified for the metabolism of a seventeen-year-old six-food-odd boy. No anxiety prompting him to hoard, or to overeat just for the comfort of it. ]

Do you keep the link open all the time? With him? I could feel how...worried he was, that you shut him out while talking to me.

[ He swallows half an apple wedge.

[Aside from his policy of honesty with him, there's just no point in lying about this.]

Pretty much. With everyone else it's more like what I've set up with you. [Gregor nods at him. Just a little bit open, enough to knock on his door, so to speak, or feel if anything major happens.] But Miles... well, you have to know we grew up together. There's really nothing we were hiding from each other in the first place.

[Which is a lie at this point but Gregor is still firmly in deny-my-feelings-existence phase.]

[ Mental hair caressing. That's what this feels like. He warms to it instantly, deciding he quite likes it, and that Gregor ought to keep doing it forever.

Miles takes the bottle back after Gregor' poured, and takes a swig directly from it. ]

Is that how you did it then? Offered him terms, payment and the like? [ And then a quick spike of worry. ] You didn't offer him anything dangerous, right--?

Hm. No. But you'll get this, where he didn't, at all.

[Miles directly in the bottle, oh dear. Well, he did just find out he has a clone-twin and the whole mess besides... Gregor takes a solid drink himself before continuing, inadvertently leaving Miles in suspense for a few moments.]

I old him that if he were a Barrayaran subject retroactively, he'd have been suffering in service that whole time. And I'd owe him. [Here comes the wry smile.] A rather large blank check, I believe I said.

[Which, of course, Gregor already owes everyone for serving just the same.]

[ It's a dangerous thing when Miles doesn't pour himself glasses. Mostly because it means he doesn't care how drunk he gets. (Because he doesn't, that was exhausting, and he is going to need something to sleep tonight. Sleep in the next morning, in fact.)

He frowns a bit, puzzling that out. Instantly catching onto that unspoken dimension to it. ]

You'd offer that to any Barrayaran. Vorkosigans especially.

Oh, yes. Vorkosigans especially. But it's all... fluff and nonsense to him, this liege thing. That I'd feel beholden to do anything but use him for my own ends. Which I can't blame him for, so--

[An oblique half-shrug.]

I tried to meet him at a place he could understand from. He'd have done something for me by flipping, neutralized the whole plot, so I'd owe him.

[ That makes the clone shake his head just a bit. He looks skeptical. And his voice is firm with firsthand knowledge. ]

Growing up with someone doesn't mean not hiding anything from them. You hide plenty. And sharing emotions is different from sharing other things.

He really is Jacksonian, isn't he ...

[ It seems obvious, in retrospect, but it just feels baffling. What would Miles have been like, raised in that situation? Exactly like that? Surely so, given that they are basically twins ... what a concept.

He darkens again at the mention of the plot. Another long swig of wine. ]

You know we owe you for that. And him too.

Spare me. If we tried to tally up what we owe one another, we'd be here all night. It all comes out in a wash, you know that.

[Then a gentle further mental petting, like trying to smooth down the fur of a riled cat.]

And save some of that for me, would you? [Which really means, slow down.]

You're not wrong. But it's... different, with Miles. Even before this, we trusted each other implicitly. We had no fear of betrayal. Or even rejection, really.

I do know that. But I'm going to be grateful, dammit, because I know you're grateful to us.

[ God he is weak to that. Mentally stretching a bit in fondness, tilting as if to let Gregor caress at a really sore spot ... It makes him set the bottle down for a moment, anyway, and nudge it towards Gregor wordlessly. ]

[ The clone's response is blunt - a little too blunt, probably. Tact is something still beyond him. ]

Lord Vorkosigan was accused of treason a few years ago.

Because I was young and stupid enough to believe them. It was unfounded.

[There's just enough self-directed sourness there to show that he really does castigate himself over that.]

[Gregor takes it, pours a second glass for himself, and then sets it aside in silent declaration.

In recompense he obligingly keeps up the mental skritching, less metaphorically sending over his own warmth and gratitude and trust.]

I won't say no to that. It's a very dark place, his head. You are a relief.

[ A soft sigh. Point taken; he reluctantly examines the amount of wine left in the bottle and makes a mental note to stop when there's about a glass left.

Instead of drinking again, he leans against Gregor's warmth. Pleased at that comment too, trying not to be pleased at the expense of his brother... ]

No chance of being replaced after all?

[ Said lightly, but with a thin trembling thread of fear behind it. ]

[Isn't this much better than alcohol? Less miserable fuzziness, more unconditional fondness.

Laced with some teasing exasperation now.] No chance at all. He's not a replacement and you don't need replacing. Remember?

[Remember Gregor's impatience with him making himself taller? This comes from the same source.]

[ Ah, yes. He does remember that feeling. He recalls the ember that had resulted from that first disastrous experiment - finds the blazing brand at his chest instead. Either way, he's warmed by the protectiveness. ]

I know, I know. And I don't think he'd enjoy it in the end.

No kidding. You're the only person I can fathom handling all that you do.

[Quietly, an uncommon sense of neediness tentatively welling up now,] You're the only person I can fathom having in my head like this, all the time.

[ Oh. That's ... He immediately reaches out to meet it, to intertwine himself with that needy spot firmly and brightly. Like hell he's going anywhere as long as Gregor wants him. ]

It's ... become familiar very quickly, hasn't it. I feel deaf without it.

[ A little shrug. And a hesitant: ]

Well...It makes the theory of implicit trust since childhood a little more difficult.

[ He doesn't know why he's doing this - why he's prying. But he's prying. ]

[Gregor receives him gratefully, like someone cold huddling around a fire.

That very reaction prompts him to ask, hesitant,] Should we be concerned about that?

[The funny thing about truly stable trust is that Gregor doesn't feel at all threatened about having it questioned by an outside source. Plus, he's giving him an uncommonly free pass to ask questions, given the circumstances. It's a unique situation so he's getting unique dispensation on prying.

He swallows a bite of food before responding.] You don't know how stable something is until you've tested the foundation. We survived that, ergo, I feel sure of our future survival.

I am junking up this beautiful community with this junk

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