
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/744474.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Game_of_Thrones_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Renly_Baratheon/Loras_Tyrell, Margaery_Tyrell/_Robb_Stark_(mentioned),
      Samwell_Tarly/Gilly_(mentioned)
  Character:
      Renly_Baratheon, Loras_Tyrell, Margaery_Tyrell, Jon_Snow, Samwell_Tarly,
      Sansa_Stark, Robb_Stark
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe, Highschool_AU, Underage_Drinking, Underage_Sex,
      Drunken_Shenanigans, leather_pants, lack_of_parental_supervision, AU,
      Beard_jokes
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-04-01 Completed: 2013-04-06 Chapters: 4/4 Words: 11288
****** Can’t Wait to Get My Hands on You ******
by Lonov
Summary
     In which Renly designs clothes (and has emotional hangups), Margaery
     dates a jock (and gives advice), and Loras wears leather trousers
     (and tries to regain his confidence). Crushing, confusion, pining,
     high school romance and underage drinking—it’s all here!
Notes
     Characters herein do not belong to me, they belong to George RR
     Martin, and I'm not making any money from this.
     Robert's age is not canonical. He is six years older than Renly in
     this universe.
***** Introductions *****
It was only Loras's first day at Storm's End Highschool and already he hated
the place. For one thing, the cafeteria smelled of fish. For another, the
student body was huge—nearly triple the size of the school he’d gone to before
he moved here, which had always seemed so small. After all, it didn't take long
to charm 900 people, then promptly lose interest in all of them. But now he
almost longed for those familiar faces.
 
At Highgarden Highschool he had been a god. Storm's End was a blow to his ego.
He hadn't made any friends yet. Several people had tried to get his attention,
but he had only respectfully engaged them in conversation for something to do.
He'd seen some attractive boys so far, but it was only novelty that made them
appealing. No one had struck him as worthwhile just yet. Margaery had made many
friends, including the captain of the football team, whose gaze fell to her
chest more often than not. It made Loras flex in aggravation, but he didn’t
complain. He was just relieved his parents had manipulated the school board to
move her up a grade, so that she was a freshman with him. It was a great
comfort knowing he had at least one ally here, even if she had pranced out of
school with her new man the moment the day ended.
 
Annoyed, Loras trudged through the huge school doors. He classes were a waste
of time and his little sister had found friends before him. Loras huffed. He
wanted to go home.
 
                                    ******
The next day was spent much as the one before, and the following week passed
slowly. Margaery invited him to sit with her and the football team at lunch,
but the table spent most of their time talking about things Loras didn't care
about in the least. But as much as he wanted to ignore their conversation, he
knew he shouldn't let his mind wander. Since his arrival in Storm's End, it
always crept to unhappy places. He forced himself to pay attention to the
conversation at hand.
 
The football players talked like neanderthals, but with less class. Their
conversation consisted of snorts and slang that made Loras's ears ache, and the
topic of discourse was obnoxious. Apparently, Robert Baratheon ("a king," one
of the players insisted, "and a fucking genius!") had graduated from Storm's
End six years ago, but kept in touch with his high school friends. They, in
turn, kept in touch with their high school friends, and them with theirs, until
it trickled down to the current football players. What resulted from this was
that every month when Robert threw a huge party for all his old high school
friends, they invited their mates, too, and half the population of the town
aged eighteen to twenty-four had a big drunken orgy at the Baratheon household.
 
Or at least, that's what it sounded like. Loras tried very hard not to scoff at
the gross immaturity of the entire situation.
 
Margaery kicked Loras in the shins.


"Ouch!" Loras exclaimed, glaring at his sister. "What was that for?"


"Don't look quite so pained to be here," Margaery hissed. "You've got that
condescending look on your face."


"My face is a condescending look," Loras hissed back. "I can't help it. And it
doesn't help that I'm surrounded by plebeians."


"Well pretend you aren't," she replied with a glare. "Don't ruin this for me.
I’m about to become the most popular girl in the school."


Loras sighed. "Yes, all right," he muttered. "I'll see you at home, then."


"Oh, Loras," Margaery sighed, reaching for him as he stood from the table. She
dropped her hand. After a moment, and with an understanding nod, she said,
"I'll see you at home."


Loras threw away his uneaten lunch and left the cafeteria. Today was turning
out to be just as miserable as the past week.


With nowhere else to go and half an hour left in the lunch period, Loras headed
for the library. He hadn't been given any homework yet, but for this reason he
assumed no one else would be there, either, and he could sulk in peace.


He was wrong on that front; an older student sat at one of the tables reading.
Loras wandered into one of the book isles, sat on the floor, and put his head
in his hands. He'd been at this school for a week already and had met zero
interesting people. The girls were all predictable, the boys were all idiots,
and the stares he got for being handsome didn't yield anything else. There were
3,000 people in this school, and no one gave a shit about Loras Tyrell.
It was not a feeling he was used to.


"Fuck," he mumbled into his palms. "Fuck it. Fuck this town. Fuck this school.
Fuck all the fucking people it in."


"Well that's a bit forward, you don't even know me," a voice said.


Loras jumped to his feet in alarm. "What?" He spun around to find the boy who
had been sitting at the table. "What are you doing?" he asked, chagrined. He
hadn't meant for anyone to overhear his rant. But now someone had, and he
was...


...Holy shit. Loras swallowed audibly, mouth suddenly dry. Here was someone
interesting. The boy in front of him was gorgeous. He had blue-green eyes the
colour of a robin’s egg and full red lips. He must have been a senior, or an
upperclassman at least; his shoulders were too broad to be younger than
seventeen, and he had rather impressive facial hair.


Loras didn't quite know where to look. If he had been at Highgarden he would
have all his haughty confidence and self-esteem behind him. After just a week
in Storm End's, though, he was without any of his former swagger.
 
"I'm getting a book," the boy said in response to Loras's question. "And
you're... fucking the school?"


"Yes, well," Loras said, drawing himself up to his full height—and although he
was quite thin and small, he knew he could be imposing when he wanted to be.
"This is a horrible school, and I thoroughly disapprove of most of the people
in it."


The boy smirked, as if he noted Loras's shift from hating all the people in the
school to only hating some of them. "We're in the same situation there, then.
Although I'm graduating at the end of the year, and you're stuck here for..."


"Four more years," Loras groaned. He really was trying not to be whiny and
petulant, but he very much needed someone to complain to.


The boy gifted Loras with soft smile. "What's your name, freshman?" he asked,
sitting on the floor. He patted to spot beside him.


Loras weighed his options. He could sit on the floor and possibly befriend a
gorgeous boy, or he could keep his expensive pants clean but leave the library
as sad as ever.


Finally, he sat. The other boy smiled, amused. "My name is Loras Tyrell. And
yours?"


"Renly Baratheon. Good to meet you, Loras Tyrell. That's a very pretty name."


Loras preened; Renly was rather correct, in his quite biased opinion.


"Oh—Baratheon. Your brother's infamous at this school, isn't he?"


Renly's smile disappeared. "Among the young drunks and the jocks, yes. I didn't
peg you for either of those."


"I'm not," Loras insisted. "Well, at my old school I was a bit of a jock, I
suppose, but you don't have fencing here. In any case, my sister seems to be
seducing the football team, and I had the pleasure of sitting with them at
lunch for the past week. They talk about the Baratheon Bash to an extent where
it's actually pathetic."


A small smile cracked over Renly's face, and Loras could tell he'd redeemed
himself. "Fencing?" Renly asked.


"Yes," Loras said, accustomed to explaining it. "It's the game with the
swords."


There was a smirk. "I'm aware," Renly said. "My brother Stannis actually got me
lessons for a while, but my heart wasn't in it and I was never very good."


"You fenced?" Loras asked, pleased to find that they had something in common.


"For a time. They do have an archery team here, if you're interested in the
less common sports. Personally," Renly said with a smile, "I like to spend my
time in here," he gestured around them, "and in the art and design studio."


The bell rang. Loras's heart dropped.


"Which is where I'm headed now," Renly finished, standing and sliding a book
off the shelf. He tucked it under his arm and held his hand out, "It was very
nice to meet you, Loras Tyrell."


"And you," Loras replied, head spinning as he shook the other boy's hand. He
didn't want Renly to leave; what if he never saw him again?


Loras glanced around, desperate for something to preserve the moment. "Are
you—?"
But Renly was already gone.
 
 
                                    ******
 
Loras went straight to Margaery's room when he got home. He laid on her bed -
huge and haughty and royally purple - and waited for her arrival. It had been
such a long day, so boring and pointless. His classes weren't exciting, his
teachers dull, the student population perpetually disappointing. And yet...


And yet, Renly Baratheon. With his beard and his shoulders and his experience
in fencing, and eyes such a deep, mesmerizing blue that Loras felt electrified
just thinking about them.


Then again, he had always been a bit of a romantic.


"Oh, there you are," Margaery said when she entered her room. "I was looking
for you."


"I've been waiting here."


"I can see that," she said, stretching out next to him on the bed. "How was
your day?"


Loras sighed. "The same as every other this past week," he admitted. "How's
your boyfriend?"


"He isn't my boyfriend," Margaery said, lightly shoving her brother. "But he's
the most popular person in the school, so I'm going to let him think that if he
wants to."


"You're very power-hungry for a girl your size."


"Thank you."


Loras laughed, and Margaery grinned at him. "Anyway," she said, "I've been
trying to scope out any attractive gay men for you, and I have discovered
several options."


"Oh?" Loras inquired, silently impressed by his sister's detective skills. She
always did have a way of manipulating the people around her to get what she
wanted.


"Theon Greyjoy."


"No idea who that is."


"He's attractive enough but a bit of an ass, I think. Okay... Jon Snow."


"He's not gay," Loras replied wistfully. "I already asked someone. Bloody
gorgeous, though."


Margaery hummed in agreement. "He looked like he could be," she explained.
Loras punched her in the arm.


"All right, all right. Renly Baratheon."


Loras sprang up in the bed and gazed down at his sister. "Seriously?" he asked,
excitement suddenly coursing through his veins.


"Yes. Robb Stark—that's my new non-boyfriend, by the way—was telling me about
it. Apparently Robert Baratheon likes to talk when he's drunk, which is
usually, and he spends a good deal of time belittling his brother for his
preferences."


Something cold slithered down Loras's spine. "That's a fucked up thing to do.
Renly's the nicest person I've met in the whole bloody school. What an ass of a
brother."


Margaery eyed him a moment. "You've met him, then," she observed. "You like
him?"


A small smile stole over Loras's face. "We spoke in the library today'' he
murmured. "And he may be the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen."


Beaming, Margeaty said, "Brother, you're fawning."


Loras had the decency to blush. "I was in a terrible mood and he cheered me. I
probably looked like a prick, too, moping about and mumbling to myself about
the fucking place when he found me."


"And he decided he wanted you to fuck him rather than the town?" Margaery
suggested.


Loras smirked, "hopefully. He's..." he thought for a moment. "He's quite a man,
though, with a beard and everything. Even if heis gay he won't be interested in
a boy so fragile he looks like a girl."


"I don't know whom you're referring to," Margaery said. "I'm sure he only
talked to you in the first place because of that gorgeous face of yours."


"Maybe," Loras said.


"Probably," Margaery corrected.


"Possibly," Loras stressed.


"Definitely," she decided.


Loras rolled his eyes and hugged her.
 
 
                                    ******
 
Loras went straight to the library the next day at lunch, but Renly wasn't
there. He walked through all the isles and waited for several minutes at one of
the tables, but Renly never arrived. After ten minutes Loras decided Renly
wasn't going to show up, and devised a plan to find him.


Renly had said he spends his time between the library and the art studio. Loras
figured he would find him there; the only problem being he didn't actually know
where that was.


The school was huge, but the art and design studio had to be somewhere. Just as
he was rising from the table to go on a quest to find it, a girl with stark red
hair entered the library.


"Excuse me," Loras said.


The girl looked up, and her eyes widened under Loras's gaze. She blushed.


Loras tried very hard not to smirk. She was already wrapped around his finger.


"I was just wondering," he said with a practiced innocent expression, "if you
would mind telling me where the art and design studio is?"


The girl nodded excitedly. "Yes, of course. I'm just going there now after I
return this book. I  could take you there."


"That would be perfect..."


"Sansa."


Loras smiled sweetly, "That would be perfect, Sansa."


The girl blushed and hurried to put her book in the return box. Loras gave a
silent cheer. The thought of possibly getting to see Renly soon made his heart
beat double.


"It's not far from here," Sansa assured him, leading him into the hallway. "Are
you new here? I haven't seen you before."


"I recently moved here from Highgarden. It's a town about five hours away."


"I hope you like it here," she said. "What's your name?"


"Loras Tyrell."


Her eyes widened expansively. "Oh," she said, as if suddenly struck with
understanding. "You're Loras Tyrell."


“Have people been talking about me?” Loras asked, preening.
 
“Not people,” she said cryptically. “Just one.”


Before Loras could inquire as to who, she stopped walking. “This is the art and
design studio,” she said, gesturing to the doorway in front of them.


It was painted with a Banksy-esque monkey holding a sign that said, “Laugh now,
but one day we’ll be in charge.”  Loras began to wonder if he was in over his
head.


“You can walk in,” Sansa told him with a tentative smile. “There aren’t a lot
of people here now, anyway. Most of the seniors leave for lunch, and most of
the underclassmen sneak out with them.”

Holding his breath in a poor attempt to keep his nerves under control, Loras
stepped into the room.

It must have been the messiest place in the school. Even the empty tables had
old paint stains covering them, and the entire room smelled strongly of
turpentine. Various easels lined the side wall with drying pictures on all of
them, and at one table two students leaned over a pottery wheel and not-so-
accidentally smeared clay on the table.

Three or four kids sat on tarps, painting something onto a wide canvas on the
floor. Another few sat on computers in a corner, working with what appeared to
be some complicated architecture software. They glanced up when Loras entered
the room, but none of them were Renly. Loras’s excitement began to falter.

“Were you looking for anything in particular?” Sansa asked, in an effort to
extend her stay at Loras’s side.
 
“I was actually looking for Renly Baratheon,” Loras ventured. He felt silly
now, coming all the way to the art and design studio just to find a bunch of
paint-covered strangers and no Renly at all.

“He’s in that corner,” Sansa said, her face falling a bit. She pointed to a
figure with his back to them at a far table. “He’s quite immersed, so—”

“Thanks,” Loras breathed, already walking away. His heart beat faster and
faster as he approached the corner table.

Renly didn’t move at Loras’s approach, and Loras wondered if he hadn’t heard
him walking over. He's quite immersed, Sansa had said. Maybe he was busy, and
Loras shouldn’t break him away from whatever he was doing; Renly might get
annoyed.

Loras decided pretend he was back at Highgarden and his self-esteem was still
inflated enough to do or say whatever he wanted. Even if his confidence wasn’t
what it used to be, he could pretend it was.

“Excuse me,” he said, sitting across from Renly at the table.

Renly jumped, surprised, and lifted his eyes from his work. When he realised it
was Loras a smile broke across his face.

“Loras Tyrell,” he said, “what brings you to my corner of the art and design
studio?”

Loras grinned. “Well it certainly isn’t that,” he said, pointing to a nearby
portrait of a naked female.

Renly laughed. “No, that’s certainly not what brought me over, either,” he
said, and he gave Loras an expression he could only describe as playful,
electric eyes wide and nose scrunched. “Are you here to see me?” Renly asked,
leaning his head onto one hand. Loras wondered, for a split second, what the
deep brown stubble would feel like against his skin.
 
 
“Yes,” Loras said, pulling himself from his daydreams. “You were nice to me
yesterday.”

“Mm, I was. Even after you expressed such utter hatred toward me and the whole
school.”

He was teasing. There was a twinkle in his eye the likes of which Loras had
never seen before.

“I hadn’t met you before that,” Loras said. He bit his lip in a practiced,
careful way and mentally whooped when Renly’s eyes fell—only for a second—to
his lips. “But now I’ve changed my mind about this place.”

Renly’s gaze dropped, and Loras noticed the sketchpad in front of him.

“What are you drawing?” he asked.

“Clothes,” Renly replied, picking up the sketchpad and flicking through it.
“Always clothes. I want to be a fashion designer, so in school I sketch my
inspirations, and at home I actually put the fabrics together.”

“Really?” Loras asked, intrigued. “Can I see it?”

After a moment in which Loras could practically see Renly weighing the options,
he pressed the sketchpad into Loras's hand.

Loras flipped through page after page of women’s and men’s fashion. Just before
he got to the suit Renly was currently working on, he stopped for a moment on
the page in front of it. A thin, angled model stood proudly in flowing shirt
and pants combination that looked like it came straight out of the Middle Ages.
A tumble of long, curled brown hair fell to his shoulders.

He looked up and locked eyes with Renly. “Nice hair,” he said.

Renly snatched the sketchpad back. A soft red sat atop his cheekbones, and
Loras rather liked it there. In fact, he’d like it very much if that blush took
up permanent residence.  “Was there something you wanted?”

Loras grinned. “Did you draw that outfit for me?"

Renly stayed silent. Across the room Sansa stared at the both of them. Loras
lifted a hand to wave at her.

“I might have,” Renly said carefully.

“Will you make it for me so I can wear it around?”

Visibly relaxing, Renly said, “Sure I will. It’ll be a pretty price, though.
Expensive fabrics.”

“Splendid,” Loras said. “My parents are rich.”

Renly laughed. “You have no modesty. Have you looked into the archery club?”

“I forgot about it, to be honest,” Loras confessed. “I’m still trying to find
my way around the school.”

Renly nodded. After a moment he said, "I saw your sister talking to Robb Stark
this morning.”

“Who?”

“Captain of the football team,” Renly elaborated; Loras nodded, remembering
what Margaery had said the previous night. “She looked downright regal
surrounded by the attention of the popular crowd. It’s funny. I think your
family must be very interesting.”

“We are,” Loras assured him, and Renly laughed again. “Margaery and I are very
close. We have two brothers, but they’re older so they stayed in Highgarden.”

“Do you wish you could have stayed with them?” Renly asked.

“That,” said Loras as he smiled slowly, “I am still deciding.”

And as he said it he realised that he was still deciding. He was giving Storm's
End High School another chance, and it was all because of Renly Baratheon.
Renly Baratheon, with his mood shifts as fast as lightning—humorous, sincere,
serious, and back again—with a nose that scrunched when he laughed, and blue
eyes like hydrangeas.

"Well, I hope you come to like it here,” Renly said. “Just stay away from Mr.
Baits, it's been confirmed that he's a vampire."

"Oh?" Loras said, trying not to laugh. "Confirmed by whom?"

"By me, of course. I saw his drinking blood last Wednesday. He looked as if he
was enjoying it, so I felt a bit sorry for him and decided not to tell the
administration. Could still be dangerous, though."

Unable to stop himself this time, Loras laughed out loud. "Doesn't he teach
Ethics?"

Renly just shook his head sadly. "That's the unfortunate part."

When the period was over Loras left wondering if he'd ever laughed so much in
one sitting.

The next day, when Loras again went to the art and design studio, and sat
across from a sketching Renly, it occurred to him that he’s never been so
interested in anyone in his life.
***** Confusion *****
The following two weeks steadily improved Loras’s impression of Storm High. He
realised the day after his first venture into the art and design studio that
Sansa was in one of his classes, and it was a relief to finally have someone to
talk to. He spoke with one of the physical education teachers about joining the
archery club, and through that he met the very-much-straight Jon Snow (who was
an excellent archer) and the questionable Samwell Tarly (who was not). He spent
lunch periods in the art and design studio watching Renly intermittently sketch
and leaf through fabric catalogs while they talked.


Two and a half weeks after Renly had first talked to Loras in the library, he
invited him to come out with him, Sansa, and some of their friends. It was
Friday night and Loras was thrilled to finally have plans with Renly. Not that
he said as much when he was asked. He’d only nonchalantly said “sure” at school
that Friday, right before the bell rang to end the lunch period. He hadn’t
mentioned how fast his heart was beating or how thrilled he was to be going out
with Renly. Even if it was just as friends in a group, and even if Renly had
yet to explicitly show any non-platonic feelings toward him.


So it made sense that after school on Friday Loras was fully in a state of
distress. It was his first out-of-school chance to make a good impression on
Renly, and if it went well the two of them could become something more. And
while Loras wasn't entirely sure what that "more" would be, he pictured it with
a lot of laughing and teasing and kissing.


“ Are you daydreaming about him again?” a voice asked from behind, and Loras
jumped.


“Margaery, don’t sneak up on me,” he said. “Help me choose what to wear
tonight.”


She smiled genuinely and wrapped her arms around her brother in a hug. “We’ll
choose the best non-date date outfit ever,” she promised. “I’m so glad you
managed to find someone here. You were so upset right after the move.”


“And I’ll be even more upset if you don’t help me pick out something to wear.
He wants to be a fashion designer, my clothes have to impress him.”


Margaery nodded slowly, calculating. “How many teal shirts do you have?”


Loras frowned. “Teal? Just the old one I wore for the month Willas was in the
hospital.”


“Hm. No, that’s too worn out.” A flash of revelation crossed her face. “Oh,
Loras,” she said slowly, smile increasing by the second. “It’s been so long
since we’ve gone shopping together.”


Loras grinned.


Ever since they were old enough to do things on their own, Margaery and Loras
had gone shopping together. They would call up the personal driver their
parents had reserved for emergencies, go to the nearest shopping center, and
lose track of time. Since their parents were so rarely home, and spent the
majority of every month in far away countries for work, there was no one to
decide what constituted an “emergency” except Margaery and Loras, and usually
their emergencies were of the fashion variety. When they arrived at a store,
they each picked out every item they desired and together brought an avalanche
of clothes to the dressing room, where they would model each outfit for the
other and decide together what looked best. With the help of their parent’s
credit cards they would buy whatever suited them.


Typically these endeavors took the whole day, but as they only had three hours
until Loras had to meet up with Renly and the others, they sped through the one
store after the next in an attempt to find what Margaery had dubbed the “Loras-
is-so-getting-action-with-a-bearded-man” ensemble.


Loras told her she was being too hopeful, although the only difference between
what she was saying and what he was thinking was that she was saying it out
loud.


An hour before Loras had to meet his friends, he and Margaery took their bags
of clothes into the back of their hired car and drove home. Loras was buzzing
with excitement. The outfit Margaery had picked out reached outside his comfort
zone, but it felt good. When they went up to Loras’s room and he changed into
the teal t-shirt and trousers Margaery had insisted upon, he was beaming.


“Oh, that is perfect,” Margaery said, very self-satisfied. “You look hot,
Loras. Renly’s going to see your ass in those trousers and lose his mind.”


Loras’s stomach did a flip. “You don’t think—it’s not too much, is it?”


“Leather pants are always too much,” Margaery informed him. “And that’s why
they’re perfect.


“It’s so...” Loras walked back and forth across the room “...tight.”


Smirking, Margaery said, “that’s the point of it, darling. What do you think
all the boys will say when they see you? They’ll say, ‘wow, I bet he’s as tight
as his pants are.’”


“Margaery!” Loras exclaimed, looking in shock at his sister. “You can’t talk
like that!”


“You’re wearingleather pants. Who’s the more profane one in this scenario?”


Loras grumbled his agreement. She was right. The leather was snug on his skin,
hugging every curve of his sports-toned muscles, and he felt obscene. And
constricted, in certain areas, but some things had to be sacrificed for the
greater good.


When he looked in the mirror a surge of warmth went through his body. He looked
good. Margaery was right—teal was the perfect colour on him, and it looked
excellent with the black leather.


“Your ride is here,” Margaery whispered, winking. “Good luck, brother.”


Loras squeezed her hands and hurried out the door.


Sansa had promised to give Loras a ride; Jon Snow, her step-brother and Loras’s
friend from archery, had just recently gotten his driver’s license and was
happy to drive anyone. When Loras opened the back-door of the car, both Sansa
and Jon made surprised noises.


“Y-you,” Sansa said, eyes wide. Loras smiled sweetly at her. It seemed the
leather was working its magic.


“Those are some interesting trousers,” Jon said, pulling the car out of the
driveway and in the direction of the local music venue they were going to.


“Are they?” Loras asked innocently. “This is how everyone used to dress on
Friday nights when I lived in Highgarden.”


“It looks nice,” Sansa breathed.


Loras grinned at her. “Thanks.”
 
 
                                    ******
 
The music venue Dragon Fire was rather small but bursting with people. The
lesser-known local bands that had already performed, and were giving autographs
to fans milling around them; the band going on next was beginning to set up
their instruments on the tiny stage.


“Jon. Jon!” someone called. Jon, Sansa, and Loras turned to see Renly coming
toward them. Loras’ stomach exploded into nerves.


“This place is really packed tonight. I was worried I wouldn’t find you,” Renly
said. Several people bumped into their group trying to move around; there were
so many people around them Renly had to shout to be heard. “Valyrian Steel is
going on in about twenty minutes. I think they’re doing songs from the new EP.”
 
“I hope they do, I haven’t heard it yet!” Sansa said.


“I downloaded it last week and it was amazing,” Jon said excitedly.


Renly nodded enthusiastically. “Which was your favorite song? I’m trying to
decide between ‘Milk of the Poppy’ and ‘Ships’.”


“‘Milk of the Poppy’ was my favorite by far,” John said.


Renly turned to Loras for the first time. “What was your favorite?”


“I’ve never heard them before,” Loras said, wondering if he should have
listened to the EP the night before so he and Renly would have something in
common musically.


Renly only nodded, “it’s good you’re hearing them tonight, then, or I’m not
sure we could be friends.”


“And what if I hate them?” Loras asked. Challenging Renly was one of his
favorite things.


“Then we certainly couldn’t be friends,” he replied with mock-seriousness, and
Loras laughed.


Renly looked down to avoid stepping on a spilled drink on the floor, and Loras
could almost sense the moment he noticed the leather. Renly’s eyes widened.


“Apparently that’s what they all wear to go out in Highgarden,” Jon supplied.
Loras was infinitely thankful with how quickly he’d been able to come up with
that lie before.


“Don’t people wear things like this here?” Loras asked, tilting his head to
look at his ass in the pants. “If they don’t, they should start.”


Jon snorted. Renly muttered something that sounded a lot like, “I’m not sure we
could handle it.”


They joined a group of kids Renly and Sansa knew from art and design club.
Loras had seen some of the students before, when he went to the art and design
studio to eat lunch with Renly, but he didn’t know any of them by name. He
waited for Renly to introduce them, but Renly didn’t.


In fact, Renly wasn’t looking at him at all. He was talking to a handsome boy
Loras had seen before on the architecture programs on the computer, and they
were laughing together.


Loras’s heart plummeted.
 
Jon, at least, seemed to be in the same situation Loras was. He knew some of
the art kids through Sansa but wasn’t good friends with any but Renly. He stood
next to Loras and looked calmly at their surroundings. He didn’t seem
uncomfortable, but he didn’t look like he was having fun, either.


“Do you hang out with Sansa and Renly a lot?” Loras asked him, partly to make
conversation but mostly so it looked like he had friends. Sansa and Renly
certainly did, but they didn’t seem eager to share.


“Sometimes,” Jon said. “I’m not a big fan of huge groups like this,” he
gestured to the fifteen or so people around them, “but I wanted to see Valyrian
Steel.”


“Hm,” Loras said.


Jon watched him with intelligent eyes. “You seem like the type to look a group
like this. All that attention,” he smiled.


“I would, usually,” Loras said. “If I didn’t feel as if I’ve just been snubbed
by Renly. I thought he thought I was... interesting, at least. But it’s
occurring to me now that he only wants me there when he has no one else to
charm.”


“Well, I wouldn’t know much about Renly’sinterests,” Jon said, very carefully.
He knows, Loras thought, he totally knows how I feel about Renly. “But I will
say this: Renly hasn’t had an easy life. About a year ago he came out of the
closet and into the fire... so to speak. His brothers treat him like shit
because of who he is. And he talks sometimes about how he doesn’t care about
what they think, but I think in a way he does, because they’re almost parental
figures for him, as fucked up as that sounds. One’s an alcoholic and one’s a
complete prig, but they’re the closest thing he has to parents, and I think he
struggles with himself a lot because—”


“Wait,” Loras said. “You’re saying—he doesn’t have parents?”


“No,” Jon confirmed solemnly. “They died a long time ago. Which is why, despite
how little he cares for his brothers, he still has problems coming to terms
with himself sometimes. In terms of his sexuality, I mean.”


Loras’s head was spinning. How could he not know this about Renly? How could
Renly have never told him? It wasn’t something one could bring up in typical
conversation, sure, but Renly could have told him this in the almost three
weeks they’d known each other.


“How do you know?” Loras finally replied.


“I listen,” Jon said. “I observe. No one is exceedingly complicated, if you
understand where they’re coming from.”
 
 
Valyrian Steel came on stage and the room roared to life. As the first chord
struck, people went wild; they danced, shouted along with the lyrics, thundered
through the crowd in an attempt to get to the front of the stage. One boy
crawled up next to the guitarist, who unceremoniously shoved him back off.


It was far more hectic than Loras had imagined it would be. Bodies on every
side of him pushed and pulled in every direction, and Loras, thin as he was,
was easily pushed with them.


An overweight, sweating man beside Loras rocked to the right and almost caused
him to fall. Just before he hit the ground, Jon caught him.


Loras was furious. First Renly invited him here, and got Loras’s hopes up, and
acted as if he wanted, at least, to be friends. Then Loras had gotten here, and
Renly had met up with his other friends, and had proceeded to ignore him. And
now disgusting, sweat-covered people were knocking into Loras on all sides, and
the music wasn’t even that good, and Renly was staring at him. Renly had seen
him almost shoved to the ground.


Loras glared back at him and turned to fight his way back through the crowd. He
had a personal driver if he ever needed one, and for the second time that day,
he did. He was leaving.


Furious, Loras exited Dragon Fire. There would surely be a bruises on his arms
tomorrow from being knocked into so many times, and the gross amount of body
heat in the place made sweat drip down his legs. He dialed the number for his
driver and gave him the building’s address.


“Loras!” he heard someone call after him. He knew that voice. “Loras, where are
you going?”


Loras spun around. He was annoyed and angry, but more than anything else, he
was hurt. He felt stupid. He’d thought tonight would turn out wonderfully, and
he and Renly would become closer, maybe even become something more than
friends. Instead he felt stupid. He was covered in other people’s sweat, his
ears were still ringing from how loud the music was, and Renly barely cared
about him at all. It was like some cosmic joke that now, when he was leaving,
Renly finally wanted to talk; because he was so desperate to thoroughly
reinforce how nice he could be even when he didn’t give two shits about Loras.


“I’m going home,” Loras told him.


Renly looked frozen. “You’re leaving? I... Are you not enjoying yourself?”


“Well, you invited me here and then ignored me completely, so, no, I’m not
really enjoying myself,” Loras said frankly.


“Loras, I didn’t mean to,” Renly said sincerely, “I was glad you came—I am
glad.”


"Unfortunately, it didn't seem that way,” Loras muttered. The slim, black car
belonging to Loras’s driver pulled up in front of Dragon Fire. He gave Renly a
nod, stepped into the car, and shut the door behind him.
 
 
                                    ******
 
Later that night Loras lie awake in bed, thinking over the evening’s events.
He’d yelled at Renly, and been rude to him, when Renly had only ever been nice
to him.


Except when he was ignoring you for his other friends, a voice whispered back.


Loras scrunched his eyes shut tightly. He’d grown closer to Jon, at least; if
only Jon were the boy he was interested in. But there were more important
things than boys, Loras struggled to remind himself. He should spend less time
thinking about Renly and more time working on improving his archery stance, and
trying to find a nearby fencing club. He ignored the voice that told him Renly
probably knew where one was.


The next Monday at school Loras sat with Jon and the archery club at lunch. He
listened half-heartedly to Sam’s story about some girl named Gilly, and
resigned himself to counting the days until the end of the school year. Only
nine more months to go.


Loras didn’t see Renly, and he didn’t go looking for him. For once he was glad
about the enormous population of the school. He flirted with other boys in
class and ignored Sansa when she tried to talk to him. She’d left him to his
own devices on Friday, too, and even though it didn’t hurt the same way Renly
ignoring him had, he still didn’t want to talk to her.


“You never come to the art and design studio anymore,” Sansa said one day,
cornering him as soon as the bell rang to dismiss them from class.


Loras barely looked at her. “I know.”


Frowning, she said, “Well you should come back. Renly’s been asking about you.
He told me to try to talk to you in class but you haven’t been talking to me,
either.”


With the most irritated expression Loras could conjure, he looked at Sansa and
said, balefully, “Okay.”


She withered under his gaze. “Renly says he wants to talk to you but he
wouldn’t tell me what it was about.”


“Right,” Loras said, heading toward the door.


Sansa hurried to keep up with Loras as he walked away. “Loras, you have to
listen to me. Just—just come to the Baratheon Bash this Saturday. He told me to
invite you!”


Loras rolled his eyes and left the room.
 
 
                                    ******
It’s not that Loras was too angry to talk to Renly. It would just be easier to
pretend he didn’t matter. If Loras tried to be friends with him, and spend
lunches with him, and smile with him and laugh with him as though he was happy
with only being friends forever, he felt he might burst. The thought of it made
him wince. He’d like Renly beyond anyone he ever had before, and Renly was free
to not like him back. He was free to like other friends better and he was free
to only want to talk to Loras sometimes.


But in that case Loras couldn’t stick around. He couldn’t stay friends with him
knowing it was only for sometimes, only when Renly wanted someone to talk to
while he sketched.


Maybe he didn’t even want that, but he was too polite to turn you away.


Loras clenched his fists and he made an effort to think about something else.
***** Shenanigans *****
Chapter Notes
     Warning: beard jokes full steam ahead.
The school spent the next week abuzz with excitement over the upcoming
Baratheon Bash. At lunch Jon talked about last month’s events and invited Loras
to come. At home Margaery talked about how excited she was and invited Loras to
come. In class on Friday Sansa passed Loras a note that invited him to come.


Fine, I’ll be there, he scribbled back, barely managing to keep his letters
undercase. If for no other reason, he wanted people to stop asking him to go.
And, he decided, there would be so many people in Renly’s house—which better be
big, Loras thought, because at least a hundred kids from Storm High were
planning to go to the party, probably more, in addition to all of Robert
Baratheon’s friends—that he doubted Renly would be able to find him, anyway.


The party would be fine, Loras reasoned. So long as his heart stopped beating
so fast.
 
                                    ******
 
“Don’t tell me you’re wearing that,” Margaery said at nine o'clock on Friday.
It was time to leave for the party—the Baratheon Bash, as it were, though Loras
thought the name was stupid—and his sister was finally,finally stepping out of
her room. She’d been in there with the door shut getting ready since they’d
gotten home from school.


“Don’t tell me you’re wearingthat,” Loras retorted, looking disparagingly at
her outfit. Or lack thereof. “It’s your body to show off how you like,
Margaery, but you’re going to freeze in that. Storm’s End is much colder than
Highgarden.”


“I don’t care if I freeze so long as I’m the most popular girl in school.”
Margaery said.


“Fine,” Loras said. He was thinking about Renly, and going to Renly’s house,
and what would happen if he saw Renly when he was there, and if it would be
awkward and if he would get drunk. He felt like getting drunk. “Do whatever you
want."


“Your outfit would be nicer with the leather pants,” Margaery informed him.


“Well last time the pants didn’t help me any,” Loras snapped. “So excuse me if
I’m just wearing jeans and a sweater tonight. Clearly I’ve not been impressing
anyone.”


Margaery watched him for a moment, lips pursed. After a moment she deduced,
“Moving here fucked your confidence.”


Loras rolled his eyes. “No shit. Now let’s go to the party so I can get trashed
and forget about that.”


When their driver dropped them at the Baratheon’s house, Margaery gave a nod of
approval. “It will do,” she said. The house was almost as big as the Tyrell’s
estate, and there were at least fifty cars around it, either parked or dropping
people off. Hundreds of people milled around outside, and music blared from
inside  the huge front doors. Luckily there were no neighboring houses nearby.


“Well, brother,” Margaery said as they stepped indoors, “make good choices.”


And with that she disappeared into the crowd.


Loras, for his part, wandered around looking for the kitchen. He had a plan:
get a drink first, find Jon and Sam later. When he finally came across the
kitchen he saw more alcohol than he’d ever seen before in his life: hundreds of
kinds lined the counters and tables, and people grabbed whole bottles as they
disappeared from the room. A group of people—students, from the looks of it;
Loras had seen some of them before in the hallways and classes—formed a circle,
passing around shot glasses.


Someone shouted, “Have one, Tyrell!” and thrust a shot glass into his hands.
Before Loras could ask what it was the circle chanted a count down from three,
and on one, along with the rest of the circle, Loras gulped the liquid back.


It burned, and it made him feel dizzy. Though he would deny it if asked, Loras
had only ever been drunk twice before. He knew he couldn't handle alcohol very
well yet, but tonight he planned on getting wasted like never before, and so,
steeling himself, he did one more shot for good measure before he left the
kitchen. He grabbed a drink, rum with something fizzy in it, and walked back
into the throng of the hallway. Before he found any of his friends he ran into
someone he often talked with in history class, and by the time that
conversation was over, Loras was on his fifth drink.


The burn had begun to feel good.


The world had slowed down by the time he saw Jon standing with Sam and someone
Loras presumed to be Gilly. He couldn’t concentrate on anything, and when he
approached the group and greeted them, Jon laughed at him and Sam told him he
was shouting.


“I had shots with people,” Loras told them, waving his hand toward the kitchen.
“I really wanted to get drunk so I went to the kitchen and I did some shots and
now I have this drink and it’s alcoholic and I’m almost finished with it
but...” Loras trailed off. Suddenly he was embarrassed; he’d forgotten what
he’d been talking about. He finished his drink and grabbed Jon’s. “What was I
saying?”


“Don’t worry about it, Loras,” Jon advised, clapping him on the shoulder and
taking his plastic cup back. “You might want to slow down with the alcohol. And
not steal my drink ever again.”


“As if. I like alcohol,” Loras informed him in a conspiratorial whisper. “And I
like boys.”


Jon and Gilly laughed, and Loras, inspired by their positive reactions, decided
to keep talking about it.


“I really like boys. Boy’s hands and boy’s faces and boy’s butts. And stubble,
I love stubble. Renly has stubble. Sometimes he has a little beard. And he has
nice hands and a nice face and a nice butt. Do you know Renly?” Loras asked
Gilly, gesticulating expansively. “He’s really cute. But don’t go near him,
he’s mean, and he pretends to like people when really he doesn’t. And he looks
at you with his face but he doesn’t even let you kiss it.” He needed Gilly to
understand what terrible things Renly did. He needed everyone to. “He didn’t
even look at my butt! Don’t I have a nice butt? I do, right? He didn’t even
look at it!”


Someone tapped him on the shoulder. “And here you are,” Loras said
sarcastically. “Speak of the Devil. Speak of the Devil’s stupid beard.”


Renly looked affronted, and it was a very funny look; Loras giggled. Renly
grabbed Loras by the arm and steered him away.


He guided Loras up two levels of stairs and a ladder (which was a struggle, to
say the least) until they stood on the floor of a loft. Much of the noise from
the party was drowned out up here, which was nice because the loud music had
only helped to disorient Loras further.


"This is your room?" Loras asked, looking around. It was a large room, almost
the size of Loras's own, and the ceiling sloped downward on both sides; it was
almost like an attic, but more inviting. It looked similar to the way Loras had
imagined it, only he couldn't soak in all the details at the moment.


"Yes, it is. Loras, I need to talk to you. I know you've been—" he cut himself
off, watching Loras as he tried to maneuver his way onto the floor. Instead of
the graceful movement he'd been aiming for, Loras practically fell onto the
ground. Renly grabbed his shoulders in an attempt to steady him. "How much have
you had to drink?"


"I had a... lot," Loras said cryptically, eyeing Renly and the small distance
that separated them. "Why are you asking? Why are we here? Are—where's the
party?" His words were slurred.


"The party is downstairs, Loras, but right now I need you to listen to me. I
heard what you were saying downstairs..." He trailed off, rubbing his chin with
his hands. "God, this is going to be completely lost on you right now, isn't
it?"


Sensing his unhappiness, Loras inched closer. "No, no," he insisted, touching
Renly's hands. "Tell me." He couldn't remember why he'd been mad at Renly. What
had he done? Invited Loras out and abandoned him? But that didn't seem like
such a bad thing now, not when Renly was so lovely right in front of him.


Renly studied him, as of unsure whether or not he should continue. "I know I
shouldn't have ignored you at the concert. It was rude and I was an ass, but I
couldn't help myself, with you in those trousers. You looked too good. And I
knew you were flirting with me all week and you would be interested... but I
couldn't do that. You're young, and I'm foolish, and—and I like you more than
I've ever liked anyone, because you're funny and clever and brilliant, but
since I wanted to be with you, and you wanted to be with me... we could have
been together. And I don't know if that's a good idea."


Loras tried to follow what he was saying, but in his inebriated state it was
almost impossible. What did seem like a good thing to say, however, was, "Jon
said at the Dragon Flame... the Dragon Friar, Friar Dragon," what was that
place called? "He said you don't like yourself because you're gay."


Renly exhaled and looked at his feet. They were both sitting on the ground now,
legs touching. "I think he's probably right."


"But I'm gay, too. Is that why y'don't like me?"


Renly met eyes with Loras for a full thirty seconds before he responded. "No,
Loras," he said. "That's why I like you so much. But it's why I don't trust
myself around you. I didn't trust myself, with you in those trousers," he shook
his head. "God, I wanted to touch you so badly. I needed to get away, because
every time I looked at you I'd get... it would be too much. And then you were
leaving and I didn't know how to explain it to you, and you didn't come to the
art and design studio again and I knew you thought I was an asshole. And you
had every reason to."


"I don't think you're an asshole now," Loras helpfully replied. His insides
were dancing because he made Renly feel too much.


A small smile crossed Renly's face. "That's because you're very drunk."


"I'm not too drunk to dothis," Loras said, and he kissed Renly on the mouth.


Renly made a muffled noise and sat still for longer than Loras would have
liked. Finally his lips moved under Loras's, and Loras brought his hands up to
touch Renly's face, and it was wonderful until Renly forced Loras back.


"Loras, you're drunk," Renly repeated gently, still holding Loras's face in his
hands. "I can't do it like this."


"You couldn't do it when I was sober," Loras said petulantly. He leaned his
hands on Renly's chest, pushing against flat muscles so Renly was on the ground
and Loras was on top of him, kissing his neck. In between kisses he added, "And
now I know you want me, so why shouldn't I keep pushing?"


Renly sighed, which angered Loras until he realised it was probably from the
pleasure of the kisses rather than Renly's own exasperation. Or possibly it was
from both. Loras continued to kiss his neck, filled with the pleasant buzz of
alcohol that was quickly making him drowsy. He stopped kissing and rested his
head on Renly's chest without realising what he was doing.


Renly started to rise; Loras grumbled his disapproval.


"I'm putting you in bed," Renly told him, helping Loras stand and moving them
across a plush carpet to the bed.


Loras collapsed on top of the comforter. "I jus' like you more than anyone," he
slurred, dazed from sleepiness and alcohol. "I do."


With a tiny, unsure smile, Renly whispered, "We'll talk tomorrow."


Loras was already asleep.
 
                                    ******
 
Seven hours later felt a little bit like hell. Loras woke in a strange room on
a soft bed that smelled like cotton and spicy cologne and boy. His head was
pounding, his stomach churning, and his mouth filled with what tasted like used
tissues.


He was confused, to say the least.


Tentatively, Loras opened his eyes. The ceiling was gray and the walls were
brown; they sloped down in a way that seemed familiar to Loras, though he
couldn't remember ever seeing them before. The walls were a soft brown, the
same as the bedspread, and the carpet was emerald. A poster of Valyrian Steel
hung on the wall and a guitar sat in the corner near a table on which a shining
sewing machine sat, above it a shelf of fabrics.


The lights were off, for which he was grateful. A small stream of sunlight came
through a loose curtain, and it was just enough to illuminate the room without
irritating Loras's headache. After a minute of refusing to move, Loras took a
risk and raised his head.


"Oh, God," he muttered, settling himself back onto the pillow with no small
amount of pain in his skull. "It's like I've been run over by a truck."


"You weren't, don't worry," Renly said, and Loras barely avoided a heart
attack.


He did manage to sit up in the bed—Renly's bed?—without much vertigo, because
he was so shocked to see that boy, all of people, camped out in a chair across
the room.


"Unless a truck came through the window in the night when I was sleeping and
boarded the wall up after it," he added.


Loras blanched. "What—where am I?"


"My bedroom," Renly said carefully. "Alone on the bed, notice. I slept in this
chair," he patted the armrest. "You were really gone. I didn't want to leave
you in here without someone to make sure you were okay."


The room was spinning; Loras's stomach was flipping. Close proximity to Renly
was doing anxious things to his already-sick stomach. "I think I may throw up,"
he confessed.


Renly pointed to the huge silver dish beside him. "We could go in the bathroom
but I think it's occupied. There's usually a long line to the toilets after
parties like this."


They were studiously avoiding talking about what they had done the night
before, and they both knew it. Loras wasn't entirely sure what had
happened—God, he was bad at drinking. He'd have to improve on that if he wanted
to bag a Baratheon—but he suspected it was something, at least. He was lying in
Renly's bed, for Christ's sake, with no recollection how he’d gotten there.


"So are we..."


"Maybe we shouldn't," Renly said.


"I think we ought to," challenged Loras.


Renly sighed. "Fine. Nothing happened between us. I'm not sure how much you
remember..."


"I remember Jon and Sam, and talking to some people from school. Not much
else."


"Right. Well what happened, basically, was—I never drink at these parties,
really. But yesterday I was feeling a bit hopeless because I wanted you to
come, but Sansa said she didn't think you would, and so I went downstairs to
get a drink. Imagine my surprise when I saw you talking to Jon and already
sloshed," he gave a wry smile. Loras, filled with trepidation over the risk of
having done something mortifying last night, and feeling quite like he was
rocking on a boat in the middle of a storm, didn't smile back. "Anyway. When I
went up to you, you insulted me. You don't like the beard, I take it."


Loras pursed his lips to keep himself from assuring Renly of the opposite. I
fucking love the beard and I fucking love your face underneath it. He had a
feeling those declarations could wait until he was cleared of any embarrassing
drunken charges.


"I wanted to talk to you but the music was loud, and I wanted to speak in
private. So we went upstairs, and I told you—well."


"What? Tell me."


Renly blinked. He was divided, Loras could tell, unsure of what he should say,
but also determined to finish. "I told you about why I ignored you at the
concert. About how fuckinggood you look to me, all the time, and about how
you're clever and brilliant. About how badly I wanted you, and how I told
myself I couldn't have you."


Loras's lips parted.


"You proceeded to say you wanted me back and attempt to make out with me,"
Renly said matter-of-factly, though his cheeks were light pink.


Loras's cheeks were much more than light pink: they were the colour of a
firetruck. "I—make out? You mean like... make out?"


"Generally that's what it means, yes. I... pushed you off, if that makes you
feel better. I told you I couldn't, when you were so drunk."


"I'm not drunk now," Loras pointed out.


"No, you're just hungover like never before."


Loras groaned. "I'm not very good at getting drunk."


That wry smile again. "I know."


"Was it... did I..." Oh, fuck it. "Was it really embarrassing?"


Renly stood from his chair and walked to the bed. He sat down next to Loras,
careful not to move the bed and aggravate Loras's hungover body. "No," he said
quietly, running his hand up where Loras's arm was under the covers. He sounded
sincere, and Loras breathed a sigh of relief. "No, you didn't embarrass
yourself. I was more embarrassed than anything. I feel bad... Loras, I feel
horrible for being an asshole to you. I just, I don't always know what to do in
situations like this. My brothers are the closest things I'll ever have to
parents, and they would never approve—"


Loras would have kissed him if he didn’t feel like he had dead rodent in his
mouth. Instead he put two fingers to the other boy's lips and held them there.


"We will make do."


"But—"


"Stoppit."


Renly grinned a slow, languorous grin; he held back a laugh. After a moment
Loras felt the bed move next to him, and Renly laid beside him. Loras pointed
to the throw up bowl in warning. "I could need that any minute."


"And I'll get it for you, if you do." He stroked Loras's hair.


Suddenly Loras remembered something from the night before. "Wait... you were
doing that last night. Weren't you? I remember the feeling of you stroking my
hair. I think I woke up to it at one point. Feels nice."


Renly was trying not to look like he wished Loras hadn't remembered that. "It's
very nice hair," he said after a while.


"It is," Loras agreed. "Is that what attracted you to me, at first? You drew my
hair on that clothing sketch."


"Oh!" Renly exclaimed, getting up from the bed too fast and jolting Loras,
whose stomach highly objected.


"Ugh. God, be careful!"


"Sorry, sorry. I'm just—I completely forgot." He was across the room at the
table covered in fabrics and a sewing machine. He picked up something Loras
couldn't see and brought it over behind his back. "I got something for you.
Well, I made it. It's yours." From behind his back he pulled out the flowing,
Medieval shirt Loras had seen in the sketch of himself, the first time he had
been in the art and design studio.


It was a beautiful piece of clothing, soft and light. "You made this for me,"
Loras confirmed. Renly rejoined him on the bed, and nodded. "Do I have to pay
for it?"


Renly laughed. "No, no, I was joking about that. When I become very famous and
well-known and design clothes for celebrities, maybe then," he joked, smiling
gently. "But this is a gift."


"You should fold it and put it somewhere it won't get vomit on it, as I should
be sick any minute."


"You're just using that as an excuse because you don't want to have to move."


"Precisely. I shall spend the rest of the day in your bed."


Renly snorted. "And the day after that?"


"And the day after that. And after that, and forever and ever until my hangover
is gone and we can make out again. I missed out on it last time, you see."


"I see, I see," Renly said, snuggling up close to the other boy. He put a hand
in Loras's hair. "You're very cute when you're drunk, you know. Tenacious.
Insistent. Shockingly honest, which was what I needed." He paused. "Do you
really think my beard is stupid?"


Loras tried not to laugh, he really did. "I hate it," he said, reaching out and
putting his palm against Renly's cheek. "I hate it especially when it's just
stubble, and it makes me think of how it would feel against my skin if we
kissed. How it would leave marks and I would feel them later on and be reminded
of you." He whispered, "mostly I hate that because the thought makes me hard at
awkward times, like when we're in the art and design studio and Sansa's
watching us like a hawk across the room."


"Goodness," Renly said, "allow me to rephrase: you're shockingly honest all the
time. I quite like it."


"Mm. Um. Renly?"


"Would you like the bucket now?"


Loras, otherwise occupied with being sick, didn't need to reply. Renly got a
water bottle off his bedside table and continued to stroke Loras's hair.
***** Promise *****
                              Four months later  
"This is some sick hair obsession you have," Loras informed him as they lay,
once again, side by side in Renly's bed. Renly’s hands were tangled in his
boyfriend’s hair.

“It’s just so curly,” Renly said sincerely, “and soft. If I could make clothes
out of this they’d sell in an instant.”

Loras smirked. “You think that just because you got into the best fashion
school in the country you’ll be a millionaire designer soon, do you?”

“Mm,” Renly agreed. “I’ll need to be if I want you to stick around.”

“Oh, you know I don’t care about money. Much.”

Chuckling, Renly said, “I know. But I won’t take chances.”

For a moment Loras grinned back. Then his smile faded. “What am I going to do
when you’re in design school... and I’m in high school?”

Renly exhaled heavily and rolled on top of Loras, draping himself over the
other man’s body. “We will make do,” he said, and Loras noted the parroting of
words he had spoken four month previously. Last time he had said them, they had
made do. They had worked together to help Renly get over his tredidation, and
they'd figured out how to have a relationship. Now Renly was turning the phrase
around to quell Loras’s worries, and, though Loras wouldn't admit it, he was
secretly appreciative.

“But—”

Renly interrupted him with a kiss. “It’s only an hour’s plane ride away. I’ll
come up on weekends when I can.”

“And when you can’t?”

Mouth on Loras’s ear, Renly whispered, “I’ll use my hand.”

Loras shivered.

“But,” Renly continued, travelling down Loras’s body to his hips and deftly
undoing his belt and zipper, “as I’m here now...”

“Let’s fuck.”

Instead of spoken agreement Renly decided to wrap his lips around Loras’s cock.

“Wait!”

Renly pulled back, annoyed. “What could possibly be more important than a
blowjob?”

Loras fingered the laces on his shirt, wrapping the leather strings in his
hands and pulling them gently. “You made me this. I don’t want to get it
dirty.”

A soft look crossed Renly’s face, and he reached to wrap Loras’s hands in his
own. He didn’t say anything, but Loras knew what he was thinking.

He felt it, too.

“Quickly,” Loras whispered, and Renly took off his hand-made shirt, folded it,
and placed it on the bedside table. Loras watched him, and when Renly leaned
back over to resume his task, his body caught fire. He loved seeing Renly like
this, mouth and cheeks growing redder along with Loras’s cock. Renly’s eyes
were closed and his hands were working the part of Loras’s cock that he
couldn’t get into his mouth. He was so beautiful. All the time, of course, but
Loras thought especially now. Especially like this.

The only time he was more beautiful was when he was moving over Loras’s body,
and getting his pleasure from it.

As if he could read his mind, Renly opened his eyes, released Loras’s cock from
a gleaming red mouth, and grabbed lube from the bedside table.

“Fuck, yes,” Loras groaned. He struggled to get his trousers and briefs off as
he watched Renly pour the shining liquid onto his fingers.

“So needy,” Renly whispered, and smirked. He slid a finger between Loras’s
crack and rubbed the outside of his hole. Loras bit his lip to keep from
moaning again. “You love this part.”

“Every part,” Loras corrected, gasping. Renly added another finger.

It was these moments Loras often felt he lived for: Renly looked like a king,
like a lord, towering above him with power and love, moving his fingers in that
way he had mastered. Loras didn’t feel the third finger go in; he was so
enveloped by the pleasure that he wasn’t called back to the moment until Renly
had his cock lined up.

“Ready?”

Loras nodded. It was always a struggle to relax as Renly was entering him, but
he had found that, actually, when he was properly prepared, clenching felt good
for both of them. This was one of those times. Renly cursed, and Loras couldn’t
keep himself from crying out. He wrapped a hand around his cock.

“That’s so good,” he moaned. “Yes, Renly, god, that’s so good, it’s so perfect,
please.”

Renly grasped his boyfriend’s legs and used them as leverage to get further
inside. It was better than anything Loras could imagine, anything he had
imagined before he’d met Renly.

“Look at me,” Renly implored, and Loras’s eyes snapped open. He hadn’t realised
he’d closed them. “Yes.”

If Loras had been in any other situation, he would have managed a flirty, No,
you, or a snippyObviously. Now, though, he was unable to do anything but grip
his cock harder. Renly ran his hands on every part of Loras’s body he could
reach.

“Fuck,” Renly hissed.

“Close,” Loras agreed.

After three more thrusts, Loras felt a shock go through his body. He stiffened
and came, clenching harder around Renly, whose orgasm followed quickly. Streams
of white coated Loras’s hand and stomach, and as Renly gently pulled out he
felt more liquid leaking from him.

Neither said anything; they laid side-by-side, body on body, sweat on sweat,
waiting for the jelly to leave their limbs.

After a few minutes, Renly leaned over and kissed him, deeply and gently.
Rather than a premise for sex it was a promise for love.

“You’re wonderful,” Renly whispered.

Loras kissed his nose. “Aren’t you happy you aren’t still uncomfortable with
being gay?”

“God, yes,” Renly murmured. “You opened my eyes on the drunken night of yours.”

Loras stuck his tongue out. Renly kissed it.

“We’ll sort out design school when I get there,” Renly quietly assured him.
“Don’t worry. I won’t give you up so easily.”

“I would hope not,” Loras muttered.

“If for no other reason than to get to see you in those leather pants.”

Loras bit him on the shoulder.

“Kinky,” Renly grinned.

After a long yawn, Loras smiled and winked. “You have no idea.”

Running a hand through Loras’s hair and biting his lip, Renly shrugged.
“Actually, I might.” He said. Then, simply, “I’m glad you’ve grown to like it
here. I’m glad you didn’t go back to Highgarden.”

“It’s because of you that I stayed,” Loras said.

“I know.”

Valyrian Steel played in the background. The song was about surprising
discoveries, and Loras sensed a theme.
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