Author: Dove
Fandom/Orginal: Pandora Hearts
Disclaimer: I don't own these guys, unfortunately.
Authors Notes: Oh look, Dove wrote something that wasn't Death Note related for once.
So this fic might need a little bit of a disclaimer for those of you not familiar with the fandom. The characters here, Gilbert and Vincent, are brothers who were separated when they were about nine and ten (for reasons that would require massive spoilers, shhh) and then reunited at thirteen and fourteen, respectively, Gilbert having lost his memories for those spoiler reasons. Gilbert was a servant of the Vessailus house and taken in after his master was pulled into the abyss. He's been working for years to tame a Chain (a monster that you can control to kill, teleport, etc; they're all different) in order to rescue him. This fic takes place a few days after he's tamed his Chain, Raven.
And yes, Vincent really *is* this clingy in canon. Here's a reference picture, Gilbert being the tall dark and handsome one, and Vincent being the lovely one with the roses and his Chain on his shoulder. (Sleepy Dormouse, d'aww.) Anyhow, onto fic. Be nice, this is my first time writing for this fandom, let alone something fetish-related.
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It was rare that Gilbert Nightray walked the massive grounds of his adopted house, at least, not without a set purpose in mind. The shooting range was on the other side of the expanse of land, the area where he’d spent most of his time in the ten years that he’d been a son of the dukedom. The practice had paid off, his training and studying had left him strong; a far cry from the trembling child that he’d been when he’d first arrived. His older brothers no longer looked at him as someone to taunt and take advantage of, but rather someone who at least commanded the respect deserved of a contractor, as unwilling as they were to admit it out loud. Where the Nightray family had failed to produce an heir worthy of signing a contract with Raven, it had been one of the two adopted brothers with the golden eyes that was deemed satisfactory.
But it wasn’t the triumph of taming the Chain that brought Gil to walk through the garden, one hand outstretched to flick dew off of the tops of the rosebuds as he moved as graciously as a mock-nobleman of his standing should. He’d woken that morning with a heavy head and chest, the beginnings of a head cold, it felt like. It would be a hindrance on his work, but he’d never hear the end of it from Break if something happened in the house that Gilbert couldn’t leak to him because he’d been too busy sniffling and coughing under his covers, so he was out in the fresh air to try and clear his muggy head and continue his duties to his superior. A harsh fit of coughing cut off his thoughts, his hand nearly taking off an entire rose’s head as he jerked it up to cover his mouth suddenly. It wasn’t the first time that morning that his breath had been stolen by his convulsing lungs, and apparently it wouldn’t be the last.
When he finally caught his breath, Gil wiped a gloved hand over his eyes and took another cautious step forward with a shaky sigh. Perhaps the fresh air wasn’t such a good idea after all. His skin was starting to feel clammy and sweat was dribbling down his hairline and over the back of his neck. He hadn’t even made it the whole way around the house yet and he was feeling completely winded and faint.
“Of all the foolishness,” he growled under his breath, forcing another small fit of coughing from him as he turned on his heels to walk towards the door. He’d only made in five and a half steps forward before a voice calling his name sounded over the chilly fall wind. The voice was one that he knew better than his own, and he didn’t need to turn in order to greet his little brother.
“Vince,” he sighed, turning his heavy head up with a good deal of effort as the footfall sounded closer. “Good morning.”
Vincent didn’t reply with words, just the brightest smile that he could stretch across his face while he grabbed and held Gil’s arm tight against his chest, leaning into the taller man to urge him to continue walking.
“Where were you going?” Vincent inquired, nuzzling his cheek against Gil’s shoulder.
“Nowhere, really,” Gil answered, trying to remove his arm from Vincent’s grasp. His little brother had spent a lifetime clinging to him, and when they were young and still adjusting to the house it was okay, but they were adults now. Gil hated the idea of breaking Vincent of old habits that he’d once encouraged, but they needed to at least pretend to be nobles while they were living here. Or perhaps that was just an excuse to attempt to free him of his brother’s possessive behavior.
“Ah, it’s so rare that big brother walks outside for enjoyment,” Vincent mused idly, loosening his grip, but not letting go entirely. “He’s usually so busy working. How lucky that I would find him! What shall we do, then?”
Gil sniffled wetly and coughed hoarsely into his gloved fist, facing away from his brother as far as the still-tight grip on his arm would allow. “You can do what you want, but I’m going inside,” he answered, the congestion in his lungs becoming more obvious in his voice as the crisp air was starting to break it apart.
“Gil?” Vincent frowned and reached over to grab Gil’s chin and force his head around. “You’re flushed. Are you feeling poorly?”
“Fine, just exhausted,” Gil answered, batting the hand away. “Don’t worry about me.”
“I’ll worry if I like, brother,” Vincent answered childishly, finally letting go of the arm, even if it looked like it pained him to do so.
“Well, I’m telling you that it’s pointless,” Gil snapped just as immaturely before lapsing into another fit of coughing. This one wasn’t limited to just a few small clearings of his throat, but rasping convulsions so painful that he stopped and leaned with one hand against a tree while he tried to catch a deep breath. Vincent was at his side instantly, rubbing circles into his back while the other hand grasped his shoulder delicately to help hold him up.
“Ah, you said something was pointless. What was that you were referring to again, Gil?”
“Shut up,” the older man growled back, a few more small coughs escaping as he took a long, shuddering breath in through his sore throat. The cold air only made it sting worse, and Gil’s eyes were starting to water until his vision was only colorful molded shapes in front of him. He blinked and sniffled frantically, pulling his handkerchief from his jacket pocket to wipe at his eyes and nose.
“Big brother is so cruel,” Vincent chided, pulling Gil forward and towards the house. “He should be in bed rather than sulking outside in the frigid air.”
“Not sulking,” Gil muttered, his words muffled by the cloth in his hands. He attempted to clear his nose of congestion, but only succeeded in forcing another fit of painful coughs from his throat.
“Gil, you sound awful,” Vincent cooed into his ear. “However did you get so sick?”
“What a question to ask,” he grumbled, giving his nose one last wipe before folding the handkerchief and putting it back into his pocket. “I haven’t a clue. And it’s not that bad, you’re over-exaggerating. And besides I--huh--”
Whatever he’d been about to say was replaced with a string of loud gasps as his breath hitched violently, his nose twitching against the itch that had invaded without warning. Once more, Gil paused in his steps and raised a hand to cover his face as he waited for the inevitable sneeze to finally surface. Except, it never did. The hitched breathing tapered off and was replaced with a loud cough that forced him to nearly fall forward.
“Oh, what a shame, Gil,” Vincent said, keeping his grip tight on his shoulders. “I was rather looking forward to blessing you.”
“I’m sure you’ll have another chance,” Gil replied, sniffling wetly as he rubbed at his sore nose. “Vincent, you shouldn’t be so close to me like this. You’ll catch it from me, I know you will.”
“Stop worrying about me,” the younger man insisted, helping Gilbert up each step that would lead them to the side entrance of the grand house. “Let me fuss over you for once, big brother. I’m so rarely awarded the opportunity to do so!”
“This isn’t the time for games!” Gil nearly shouted, swallowing back another fit of coughing. “Vincent, you’re not as strong as I am. If you catch this it’ll be ten times worse for you, it always is. Please, leave me be.”
“Gil, you look dreadful. At the very least allow me to draw you a bath, then I will leave you alone. How does that sound? Will you allow me this compromise?”
Of course he would. Gilbert could pretend to discipline his brother all he wanted, but in the end, he would always get his way. The game that they played back and forth was simply a façade for Gil to believe that he could be in control over everything that he loved. He’d contracted in order to save his precious master from the abyss, the Nightray house providing the Chain that he required to do so. He could masquerade as a noble all he wanted, but he was still only a servant at his core, training to save his precious young master.
He groaned and nodded, one hand moving up to massage the bridge of his nose and either rub the sneeze away or force it out. Anything was better than being stuck in this uncomfortable limbo of itching and sniffling. “Whatever you want, Vince,” he finally acquiesced, taking his hand from his nose to turn the doorknob and step into the warm air of the house. Gil sighed softly as the heat chased away the chill in his skin, but shuddered as it also stirred up another sharp tickle in his nose. Before he had a chance to react, he sneezed loudly and uncovered, his head pitching forwards to aim at the pristine floors of the noble house.
“Huh-choo!” Gil quickly covered his mouth a moment too late, an embarrassed flush warming his already fevered cheeks. His teary eyes darted up and down the halls, making sure that no one had seen.
“Bless you, Gil,” Vincent said softly and with none of the amusement that he’d had before, taking his own handkerchief from his pocket to hand to his brother. “Here, blow your nose.”
Gil took it and covered his face, but didn’t make any motions to clear the congestion from his nose. “Thank you,” he muttered, starting down the hall to his bedroom, his little brother’s hands still clinging to his shoulders like strings holding up a puppet.
“Shall I call for a doctor? Duke Nightray must have one on call, I’m sure he can be here soon.”
“No need,” Gil replied, sniffling wetly against the dampening fabric. “It’s just a head cold, Vince. Don’t bother the duke with my nonsense.”
“He is technically your father--”
“No. He’s not,” he interrupted, not wanting to ask anymore favors from the man who adopted him after his young master had been taken by the Baskervilles. It had been a union of convenience and personal gain for Duke Nightray, to what means, Gilbert wasn’t certain, but there had to be a reason that a man would adopt a servant into a noble house besides the fact that his little brother had requested it.
“You’re just trying to t-trick me. Stop being a p…pain, Vin…huh--!” Another useless fit of hitching, sharp breaths left him struggling to keep his eyes from tearing and running down his face, and just like last time left him a mess before once again dissipating into a dull, humming itch in his sinuses.
“Ah. Disappointed again,” Vincent lamented, placing his cheek against Gil’s shoulder as they neared his bedroom door.
“You’re disappointed? This is very frustrating!” Gil shot back, stirring up another fit of coughing.
“Aw, you’re right Gil, I shouldn’t tease,” Vincent giggled, pushing past him to open his door and wave him through. “I only want to see you smile. I haven’t seen it in so long.”
“I’ll smile when this cold leaves my chest, promise,” he gasped, tumbling down onto his bed, the handkerchief still pressed against his mouth as he breathed shallowly, trying to force the tickle back into his nose. Through the fabric he pinched at the bridge of his nose and tried rubbing back and forth harshly. The friction made the itch worse, but it still hovered just out of his grasp no matter how much he tried to get it to surface.
“Lie here, I’ll start the bath for you,” Vincent said softly, leaving his jacket and gloves draped over the back of a chair as he moved for the bathroom. Finally alone, Gilbert blew his red, sore nose and curled into a pathetic, sweaty, shivering ball, coughing weakly against his bedspread. He was hardly the picture of the young man who, just a few days prior, had tamed and contracted with a vicious Chain that had cut his neck open to bleed him, taste him, and finally accept him. But maybe it was the extra strain on his body over the last few days that had forced this illness on his body. It wouldn’t be the first time in his life that he’d worked himself into exhaustion without realizing it.
Curled up on the bed, he felt himself begin to doze off, his slumber broken by the sound of feet shuffling across the room and a hand on his shoulder.
“Gil? Wake up, the bath will be ready in a moment.”
“Don’t want to…” Gil mumbled, blinking his teary eyes up at his little brother. “Thank you, Vince, but I’ll just s-sleep…uh-gh!” His breath caught in his throat again as his nostrils twitched, and he brought his hand up to hover in front of his nose, ready to cover the sneeze if it finally decided to finish this time. But just like before, the tickle died off with a pathetic whimper in the back of his throat. He couldn’t remember the last time that he felt so miserable.
“Gil.”
The older man’s eyes fluttered back open and he rolled onto his back, peering up at the younger man. “What is it?”
“Let me help,” he said, sitting down on the bed and reaching forward to stroke Gil’s cheek gently. Gilbert shuddered at the touch, his nose still twitching as he squirmed away from his brother.
“That w-won’t be…huh…ah, necessary,” he insisted, reaching up to rub at his nose and try to hide his red, pathetic face from view. Vincent sighed, leaned forward and tipped Gil’s face back up with both of his hands.
“You trust me, don’t you big brother? We’ve trusted each other for years, haven’t we?”
“Of course, but--”
“Then stop being a child and let me help. Goodness, if I didn’t know better I’d think that you didn’t want me here.”
“I’m not being a child!” Gil snapped with a small groan, his throat stinging from raising his voice. “Yes, I want you to leave! I’m sick and feel awful, so excuse me if I would rather be alone than risk infecting you! Or anyone else for that matter!” What kind of guest would he be in this house where he didn’t belong if he made the family ill?
“Close your eyes, Gilbert,” Vincent answered, ignoring his big brother’s childish words.
“But why?”
“You trust me, you just said that you did. Now, close your eyes and keep them closed. I’ll know if you’re peeking.”
More games. Gil knew that he could protest all he wanted, but in the end he would end up doing exactly what Vincent wanted. With another loud, wet sniffle, he turned his body until he was on his back, let his head roll onto the bed and closed his eyes, the darkness making his head spin a little bit. He felt Vincent stand up, the shifting of the bed adding to his dizziness. Gil grasped the sheets to keep himself steady, as though it would help him straighten the dark horizon on the insides of his eyelids. A moment later, the bed shifted again, but the opposite side of the mattress now. The hand was back, on the other cheek, and he allowed his head to be tipped back as Vincent pressed his thumb against his chin.
“Relax,” Vincent whispered into his ear. Gilbert did his best to unclench his sore body, holding back another cough as he felt something brushing against the cheek that his brother’s hand was touching. Something soft, but still abrasive enough to make the muscles in his face tense and twitch in irritation. Before he could protest it, the object moved along his cheekbone and rested just under his nostrils, his breath starting to hitch from the gentle touch. Gil’s eyes squeezed shut even tighter as he gasped harshly.
“Vince--”
“Shh. What did I say? Relax.”
Eyes still shut, tears started forming in the corners and sliding down his red cheeks. “But it t-tic…ti--”
“It’s supposed to.”
His breath was already hitching frantically, and Gil tipped his head back, breathing shallowly to try and encourage the sneeze out. Whatever his brother was letting tickle back and forth under his nostrils was suddenly inserted and twirled in a full circle, and that was all it took for Gil’s nose to finally give in to the virus that was taking over his body and allow him at least a little bit of relief.
Gilbert finally sneezed loudly, wetly and uncovered, his head instinctively turning away from where Vincent was sitting. But whatever was tickling his nose was still inserted, and teasing another tickle out. His breath hitched viciously for several agonizing seconds, one hand twisting painfully into his sheet while the other moved up to grab Vincent’s wrist and help him guide the source of the inducing into a spot that would be more sensitive.
“heh-chsh!” Gil didn’t have time to pull himself away this time, stifling the best that he could to keep from spraying his brother. The third sneeze came only a half-second later, followed by three more that wrenched so quickly from his body that he scarcely had a moment to breathe in between. When the fit was over, he was thrown into a fit of painful coughing, the hand that still held tightly to Vincent’s wrist pulling the younger man away so that Gil could turn on his side and hide his face in his blanket until he could manage to breathe again.
Above him, Gil could hear Vincent sighing softly, as though he were watching something beautiful stand before him rather than his weak older brother struggling for air. His hand moved up to rub Gil’s shoulders, and he made a few small shushing noises into his ear.
“Bless you again, Gil,” he whispered, brushing his older brother’s dark hair from his face. “I told you that you could trust me. Doesn’t that feel much better now?”
“Th-thank you, V—he-chhsh! Eck-chh!” Gilbert gasped and pulled his blanket up over his leaking nose, his hand groping for the handkerchief that he’d dropped when he’d nearly fallen asleep a moment before. It was now that he realized that he still hadn’t opened his eyes since Vincent had told him to close them, but when he finally cracked them back open, his vision was blurred with thick tears.
Vincent must have noticed what he was searching for, because a moment later the well-used cloth was placed over his nose, a hand that didn’t belong to him working to wipe beneath his nostrils gently. “Blow,” Vincent instructed him, but Gil shook his head and pulled the fabric from his brother’s grip.
“I’ll do it myself,” he groaned, blowing as hard as he could in his exhausted state. It took a few more small fits of coughing and another two blows before he could manage to breathe through his nose to his satisfaction. When he felt that he’d recomposed himself enough, he peered up at his brother’s concerned face.
“What…what was that?” he asked, sniffling as the itch in his nose finally started to fade.
“What was what, brother?” Vincent replied, placing his wrist on Gil’s forehead and cheeks to check for a fever.
“What were you using to tickle my nose? That was…”
A smug grin on his face, Vincent raised his hand to reveal his tool; a single black raven’s feather.
“Fitting, no?” he said, tapping the wet tip against Gil’s nose. “Only a few days after you contract with Raven, and I just happened to have this with me. The bird seems to solve another one of your problems.”
His eyes wide, Gil let out a shaky breath and swallowed painfully. “What…what were you doing, carrying that around?”
“I found it outside, picked it up on a whim. Good thing I did though, right? Otherwise you’d probably still be tortured. Does it still itch? I can do it again, if you’d like.” He brought the feather back down to rest beneath Gil’s twitching nostrils, only to have his hand swatted away, the older man rubbing frantically at his nose as he sat up.
“No, no, that’s not necessary,” he gasped, removing his hand with a small sniffle as he pointed at the bathroom. “You should go turn the faucet off now, before the bathtub overflows.”
“Ah, you’re right. My brother is so sharp, even when he’s sick. I’ll be back in a moment.” Vincent leaned over to kiss Gil’s forehead softly before finally moving from his side, leaving the feather on the mattress. Gil sighed, coughing a few times as he picked it up and examined it, twirling it between his index finger and thumb. Raven could easily be to blame for his current illness; the Chain might have stressed his body past its limit after he’d been sealed through his left hand. This inexplicable feather provided by his brother was another morbid reminder of their bond, but Gilbert was hardly poetic enough to appreciate the connection at the moment. Hand still grasping the feather, he laid his arm across his eyes to block the light of the room and let out a long breath, the disease in his chest also surely strengthening its same invisible hold.
I love you right now.
I don't usually like male stories, and I know NOTHING about this fandom. But I liked the story! Thanks for sharing.
