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>When posting prompts, always remember to add kinks you're both looking for and wanting to avoid in a potential fill.
>When filling, please remember to add your story tags: characters, relationship types, kinks, series and universe (ie: skyrim)
>Our character limit here at LJ is 4300.
>If you have any other questions about posting, visit the HOW TO KINK MEME THREAD, under the Page Summary on your left.
Mead and Sympathy M!DB/Brynjolf 3/6
Date: 2012-11-19 01:19 pm (UTC)“Maybe, maybe the job can be shared,” Dyce suggested. “Someone can be the disciplinarian, someone can talk to Maven, and so forth.”
“You’re saying the outfit needs more than just brains. Yeah, it’s not a bad idea. The Guild needs a heart - there’s a spot for you.”
Dyce blinked at him in surprise, “Why, Brynjolf, that’s almost poetic.”
Brynjolf met his eyes briefly, “I wouldn’t read too much into it.”
Dyce shrugged, “We still need some brains, however.”
“Being serious,” Brynjolf said. “Do you think it would work? You, me, Vex and Devlin. What if we disagree? We need a tiebreaker. Karliah?”
“It seems like the obvious choice,” Dyce said. “A council. Why not? We’re just getting bigger. If we’re serious about a solid presence in every hold, relying on one person just seems like begging for trouble.”
“I’ll sound the others out,” Brynjolf said. “We don’t need to be hasty.”
Their conversation was interrupted by Rune and Sapphire, who arrived via the ladder. Sapphire nodded at them and walked out to the flagon while Rune went to empty his pockets into the guild tribute chest.
“Rune!” Dyce cried. “My most wonderful friend. Bring us more drinks, would you?” He waved an empty bottle and looked at the Imperial imploringly. Brynjolf merely watched.
“Fine fine,” Rune said good-naturedly. “I wouldn’t want you to overstrain yourself.”
As he left the room Brynjolf turned to Dyce. “He was half in love with you,” he said quietly.
Dyce smiled, a bit sadly. “I know. I think I overwhelmed him a bit, to be honest. I’m glad we could be friends.”
“You seem different,” Brynjolf observed. “If I’d said that three weeks ago you would have made a joke of it.”
Before Dyce could answer, Rune returned, with mead, bread and cheese on a tray.
“If you’re ever too old to steal, you’d make a fine barmaid,” Brynjolf said.
“Only my brothers in crime get service from me,” he said. He set the plate down and bid them good evening.
They ate in silence, devouring the plate of bread and cheese with the knowledge that neither of them would be bothered to go and get more once it was gone.
“So, what happened, Bryn?” Dyce asked eventually.
“When?’
“Somewhere between the Bee and Barb and your pants. I ain’t, you know, upset or anything, just curious. I know flirting when I see it - don’t tell me you were chatting me up just to get me in the Guild. That’s low, man.”
“No, lad, it wasn’t like that.” Brynjolf sighed. “I don’t see a polite way of saying this; you’re too easy.”
Dyce raised his eyebrows, “I didn’t figure you were the kind to care what I did on my nights off.”
“I’m not. I mean, for me it’s all about the chase. You just, well, I’ve never seen you turn anyone down, you get me?”
Dyce nodded and took a drink. “Huh, fair enough then. Mystery solved.”
Brynjolf looked at him for a few moments. “That’s all?”
“Yeah. There’s no such thing as a bad reason for turning someone down. What did you expect, that I’d throw myself on you and beg you to make a man of me?” He smirked.
“I could picture you doing that, actually.”
“Ah, but would you want to?”
“What? Picture it or make a man of you?”
Dyce just chuckled and wrapped his lips around the neck of the bottle, tipping it and his head back to get the last few drops. It didn’t sound like Brynjolf was entirely convinced by his own arguments, but Dyce was hardly going to chase him at this point.
Brynjolf was watching him and Dyce knew it.
“I’m glad we had this conversation,” Dyce said. “It’s been productive. Now try not to bury yourself in work again and blow everyone off the way you have been. We’ve missed you, Bryn - the place isn’t the same without you.”
“I’ve been here,” he said gruffly.
“You know what I mean,” Dyce said seriously. “We can sort it. Karliah, Nocturnal, everything. We’ll work it out.” He glanced around at the empty bottles and sighed, “We’ve made a mess. I’ll clean it up.” He got to his feet with little difficulty, and started collecting the empties and putting them on the table.
His hips were roughly level with Brynjolf’s line of sight, and the Nord just watched him as he piled everything onto the tray.