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Dimo hadn't meant to look.
Okay, yes, that was a lie, he had very definitely meant to look. After all, Maxim was once again asleep in his bed, wearing nothing but that long-but-not-long-enough nightshirt and a pair of wooly stockings. More than that, he was curled on his side, Dimo's pillow held tight against his chest, one leg hitched up towards his chest, pulling the hem of his nightshirt up until it draped over his hip and barely covered his rump. So really, he was begging to be looked at, when Dimo thought about it. It was just that... well...
He hadn't meant to look.
He'd just sat down on the bed, leaning over to shake the boy awake, it was sort of right there. In his face.
A small bush of coarse gold curls nestled between Maxim's legs, and... that was about it.
Besides the obvious thing that generally came with an utter lack of cock and balls.
When he raised his eyes, ice cold blue stared down at him, Maxim's sharp, delicate face unreadable.
By Dimo's count, the silence lasted long enough for the world to end and rebuild itself several times over. The clock would say that it was less than a minute, but the clock wasn't the one looking Maxim in the face, having just discovered the boy wasn't quite the boy he seemed to be.
“If you tell anyone, I will not kill you. I will cut off your privates, embalm them, and fit them in a harness for my own personal use, and then penetrate the resulting hole in your crotch with them.”
Oh, thank goodness, threats. Threats were good. He could handle those.
Flashing a sheepish smile, Dimo straightened up a little, tugging the hem of Maxim's shirt down so that it covered all the appropriate bits. “Tell enyvun vhat, sveethott?”
A bit of tension left Maxim's frame, and he sat up – yes, he, Dimo was fairly certain of that designation. Maxim had spent his whole life that way, and didn't look terribly keen on stopping now – passing a hand over his thigh. A murmur of “Father would have killed me, if he knew” confirmed it.
“Don' gotta explain nottink to me, dollink. Hyu are happy de vay hyu are, right?”
Biting his lip, Maxim nodded, looking down as he fussed with the hem of his nightshirt, twisting it and tying the ends into knots between his fingers. Then he shook his head.
“No?”
“Wish I was a real boy,” Maxim said, his voice soft and thick with emotion. Shame. Dimo didn't know how to handle this situation, but at the same time, he didn't want Maxim to think... well, he knew he didn't want Maxim to think he hated him. It did change things, but everything changed things, in small, minute ways, all the time, and if you got caught up in that sort of thing, then you tended to get left behind. Dimo didn't plan on leaving Maxim behind (except for survival training, but that was different) any time soon.
So he scooped the boy up, settling him on his lap, cradling him to his chest. Maxim didn't resist, and even tucked his head underneath Dimo's chin, arms wrapping around his shoulders. The Jaeger held a him little tighter, letting out a small sigh of relief. He might not know the right thing to do, but at least he wasn't doing the wrong thing. “Zum time, mebbe ve tok to Master Faustus 'bout it. Bet he could do zumting 'bout it.”
“Maybe.” Maxim seemed a little doubtful, but that was fine. He hadn't been with the Jaegers for two months, and one of those was spent abandoned in the wild, training. Dimo didn't expect him to trust the Masters implicitly just yet.
“At least, hyu should mebbe schtott gettink ready for de day, hm? Vit hyu routine, hyu gonna miss breakfast hiff hyu ain't qvick!”
That made Maxim tense up, and in half a second, he was across the room with a cry of “oh, shoot!”, digging through his basket of toiletries. “You should have woken me up sooner!” he whined, looking over his shoulder with an accusing pout, brow furrowed sharply.
Dimo held up his hands defensively. “Couldn't help it. Hyu chust looked zo sveet, lyink dere all schnoogled op vit my pillow...” He sighed wistfully, clasping his hands to his chest, batting his eyes at the boy. “How could Hy possibly vake soch a precious leedle angel from his repoze?”
Maxim's hairbrush promptly smacked him in the face, then they both laughed as Dimo got to his feet, made a playful grab towards Maxim's rump, then left the room.
Okay, yes, that was a lie, he had very definitely meant to look. After all, Maxim was once again asleep in his bed, wearing nothing but that long-but-not-long-enough nightshirt and a pair of wooly stockings. More than that, he was curled on his side, Dimo's pillow held tight against his chest, one leg hitched up towards his chest, pulling the hem of his nightshirt up until it draped over his hip and barely covered his rump. So really, he was begging to be looked at, when Dimo thought about it. It was just that... well...
He hadn't meant to look.
He'd just sat down on the bed, leaning over to shake the boy awake, it was sort of right there. In his face.
A small bush of coarse gold curls nestled between Maxim's legs, and... that was about it.
Besides the obvious thing that generally came with an utter lack of cock and balls.
When he raised his eyes, ice cold blue stared down at him, Maxim's sharp, delicate face unreadable.
By Dimo's count, the silence lasted long enough for the world to end and rebuild itself several times over. The clock would say that it was less than a minute, but the clock wasn't the one looking Maxim in the face, having just discovered the boy wasn't quite the boy he seemed to be.
“If you tell anyone, I will not kill you. I will cut off your privates, embalm them, and fit them in a harness for my own personal use, and then penetrate the resulting hole in your crotch with them.”
Oh, thank goodness, threats. Threats were good. He could handle those.
Flashing a sheepish smile, Dimo straightened up a little, tugging the hem of Maxim's shirt down so that it covered all the appropriate bits. “Tell enyvun vhat, sveethott?”
A bit of tension left Maxim's frame, and he sat up – yes, he, Dimo was fairly certain of that designation. Maxim had spent his whole life that way, and didn't look terribly keen on stopping now – passing a hand over his thigh. A murmur of “Father would have killed me, if he knew” confirmed it.
“Don' gotta explain nottink to me, dollink. Hyu are happy de vay hyu are, right?”
Biting his lip, Maxim nodded, looking down as he fussed with the hem of his nightshirt, twisting it and tying the ends into knots between his fingers. Then he shook his head.
“No?”
“Wish I was a real boy,” Maxim said, his voice soft and thick with emotion. Shame. Dimo didn't know how to handle this situation, but at the same time, he didn't want Maxim to think... well, he knew he didn't want Maxim to think he hated him. It did change things, but everything changed things, in small, minute ways, all the time, and if you got caught up in that sort of thing, then you tended to get left behind. Dimo didn't plan on leaving Maxim behind (except for survival training, but that was different) any time soon.
So he scooped the boy up, settling him on his lap, cradling him to his chest. Maxim didn't resist, and even tucked his head underneath Dimo's chin, arms wrapping around his shoulders. The Jaeger held a him little tighter, letting out a small sigh of relief. He might not know the right thing to do, but at least he wasn't doing the wrong thing. “Zum time, mebbe ve tok to Master Faustus 'bout it. Bet he could do zumting 'bout it.”
“Maybe.” Maxim seemed a little doubtful, but that was fine. He hadn't been with the Jaegers for two months, and one of those was spent abandoned in the wild, training. Dimo didn't expect him to trust the Masters implicitly just yet.
“At least, hyu should mebbe schtott gettink ready for de day, hm? Vit hyu routine, hyu gonna miss breakfast hiff hyu ain't qvick!”
That made Maxim tense up, and in half a second, he was across the room with a cry of “oh, shoot!”, digging through his basket of toiletries. “You should have woken me up sooner!” he whined, looking over his shoulder with an accusing pout, brow furrowed sharply.
Dimo held up his hands defensively. “Couldn't help it. Hyu chust looked zo sveet, lyink dere all schnoogled op vit my pillow...” He sighed wistfully, clasping his hands to his chest, batting his eyes at the boy. “How could Hy possibly vake soch a precious leedle angel from his repoze?”
Maxim's hairbrush promptly smacked him in the face, then they both laughed as Dimo got to his feet, made a playful grab towards Maxim's rump, then left the room.
