DJ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
djsoliloquy) wrote2013-02-12 04:07 pm
djsoliloquy) wrote2013-02-12 04:07 pm
Entry tags:
[AC AU] Interview
Fandom: Assassin's Creed
Rating: soft R
Pairing: Altair/Malik
Summary: Written for Sophie's porn star au! Wherein college student Malik decides to write his thesis on the porn industry and sends out a call to interview some real porn stars and I bet you can’t guess who answers. This is their first meeting.
-
Malik had set his phone on the coffee table to record their interview and he was letting Altair ramble through a mercifully dull tangent about equal pay agreements. Or maybe something about merchandise. Malik personally hadn’t been paying attention since the anecdote about the threesome and the O-ring gag, around when it became suddenly difficult not to stare at Altair’s mouth.
Now Malik was mostly engrossed in being irritated and making sure his notebook completely covered his erection.
They were twenty minutes into the meeting. Malik no longer doubted Altair was a porn star, though star seemed to be an exaggeration, however much Altair’s ego denied it. The studio he worked with was small, independent. Just large enough to have a modest but devoted following.
But that wasn’t the point.
Malik knew of Altair, with the sort of grudging awareness high functioning undergraduates from related departments could have for one another, especially after having been in competition for a number of the same scholarships in years prior. And their faculty advisors knew each other in some capacity as well. Malik’s had always made a point of passing along news of Altair’s academic feats to the amused tune of so what are you going to do about it? while trying to goad Malik to higher excellence, no doubt. It tended to work. But paired with some aggravating encounters with Altair at university events, Malik had developed a certain aversion for him in person.
He wondered if Altair would notice if he snuck a hand into his pocket to rearrange himself.
“Then you just pour in the liquid rubber and bam, personal dildo,” Altair concluded, stretching against his chair and curling his legs under him. Malik found himself trying to ignore Altair’s bare feet, which he’d only seen bare once before, from the video online. They were tough but finely arched, and Malik noticed it first on the toes but all of Altair’s nails were polished and clipped. Was it for his… work? Some aesthetic or safety choice? The convenience of carefully shaped nails, prepared to be slipped in just about anywhere at a moment’s notice—
“So who writes their senior thesis on the porn industry, anyway?” Altair’s eyes narrowed, sensing a less-than-focused audience.
Malik swallowed and forced himself to abandon the image of shallowly thrusting fingers, illusory harsh whispers in his ear that sounded very much like Altair. “If we could bring the discussion in,” Malik said. He picked up his pen from the crease of the notebook and then set it down again, finally registering what Altair had said. “...You have a dildo shaped like your own dick?”
“Merchandizing,” Altair said, hands spread. “The production team let me keep the first one they made as a memento.”
Forgetting his phone for a moment, Malik said, “Well, it would give you something more industrious to do when people tell you to go fuck yourself, I imagine.”
Altair’s face froze in surprise. Then he laughed, leaning forward over the coffee table with his cheek propped on his hand, eyes narrowed in interest now. “What other things do you imagine?”
“If we can continue with the interview,” said Malik to remind him. Both of them. “As… someone active in the industry you must have an opinion on the cons of porn, so to speak. Do you disagree?”
With a snort, Altair returned to his chair, slouching in it and letting his head fall back. Malik’s gaze followed the exposed line of his throat. “Disagree with what?” Altair said, mouth twisted with impatience.
Malik inhaled. He was for the idea of porn in general. But he was also turned on, full of a nameless frustration at Altair, and a complete interview of both of them agreeing with each other wouldn’t provide the depth of opinion Malik wanted. He tried recalling anti-porn arguments from memory while trying not to stare at Altair, whose legs had fallen open when he slumped back.
“You don’t think there’s a risk of detachment from reality?” he said. “Compulsive use, development of unrealistic expectations? The industry as a whole is condemned constantly as a source of misogyny and unhealthy sexual behavior. Among other things.”
Altair rubbed a hand around his neck and through his hair. “It’s wish fulfillment,” he said as though he was tired of clarifying the point. “Of course there’s a risk of compulsive use and detachment from reality. If you want to get upset about porn corrupting people, better throw in movies, books, and everything else while you’re at it. And yes, it is possible for one person’s wish fulfillment to be another person’s oppression,” said Altair after a pause, and Malik thought, fuck. Malik could have written that. It’s what Malik would have written except snappier, more accessible, and now he had to cite Altair as a source. Even if it was under his stage name, Malik would know. Altair would know. Damn him.
“Then that’s it?” Malik said, failing to care if he sounded cross. “Buyer beware and good luck?”
“I said it was fantasy, not perfect.” Altair sighed. “The industry's huge and all the more susceptible to going bad. But you realize how long porn has been around, don't you? I don’t see how the solution can be to ban a whole genre and force everyone to stop. Who decides where that stops? I'd as soon keep the porn and focus on getting rid of the misogyny and the rest of the corruption in the industry, myself.”
Well, Malik thought. He couldn’t let Altair continue talking.
“Do you watch porn?” Malik heard himself say.
The answer was not an immediate, to his surprise. “Not as much as I used to,” said Altair. “I’m pickier now, and I end up studying the film and thinking about work half the time anyway.”
“And has the decline in watching porn positively or negatively impacted your own sex life?” Malik said, still hearing the words from far away. His throat felt dry.
“It’s harder to find something that works, so I suppose I’m better at masturbating without assistance now,” Altair said and shrugged at Malik’s closed expression. “I can slow down and make an experience of it, focus on my pleasure, my wants.” He touched the base of his throat like he wasn’t aware he was doing it. The fingers slid down to rest over his stomach while he spoke, and he turned his bottom lip in, wetting it. “And you, what’s your fantasy?” he asked, not the same question at all. His mouth quirked and he added more precisely, “What gets you hard, Malik?”
Altair was looking right at him. Malik pushed down subtly on his notebook, putting pressure on his cock. “Finishing this interview would top the list currently.”
His nerves sparked as Altair’s eyes shifted to the notebook, or maybe simply at Malik’s groin, hold there longer than an idle glance. Then Altair glanced back at Malik, letting the silence open up between them like the complete bastard he was.
“Have you watched anything of mine?” he said.
He’d gone so far as to prepare an elaborate statement of denial for this very question. “Just one,” he said instead, the truth slipping out.
Altair smiled. “Did you jerk off to it?”
No, he hadn’t. He found the videos online but closed the window and deleted his browser history before they finished buffering. Then he spent a sleepless night thinking about it before starting his laptop and playing one anyway, alone in his room watching Altair fuck a stranger at the ridiculous hour of three in the morning. He completely gave up trying to fall asleep afterwards, amazingly and unexpectedly aroused yet somehow unable to touch himself over it.
Perhaps for this moment. The victorious expression on Altair’s face anticipating a yes.
Malik couldn’t recall what the other actor had looked like.
“We’re veering off topic.” Malik shifted on the couch, regretting his decision to conduct the meeting in the living room instead of at the table, holding the interview at Altair’s off-campus residence at all while all his housemates were out. The room was too hot, the air heavy when he breathed. “What do you say to the idea that porn is a crutch? That it’s used as an excuse not to relate with actual people?”
Altair’s chest heaved in a sigh, expressly demonstrating his boredom. “Why? Is that how you use it?”
“I—no, of course not.” Malik focused on his notebook rather than Altair, trying to jot something, anything, onto the paper to look busy. And push the notebook against his groin again. “I find it formulaic.”
“Is that code for ‘I don’t use porn’? Because that’s a lie.” Was Altair widening his legs intentionally? “Which video of mine did you watch, again? They aren’t—”
“Formulaic? Oh no.” Malik kept his eyes on the paper. There was now a line at the top of the paper where he’d scribbled his name down over and over again. “I only watched it once so I’m sure I missed some of the deeper thematic design woven into that narrative tapestry. You helping that poor man collect those flags for no apparent reason, and him naturally deciding to thank you by sucking you off in an alleyway. I can’t see how anyone could find that formulaic or thinly veiled.”
He was stabbing the page for emphasis by the end, striking punctuation behind his name.
Altair listened with a hand held over his mouth. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re really thinking,” he said, uncovering part of his lips to revealing a satisfied sneer.
Malik frowned at his notebook. Malik. Malik. Malik Al-Sayf. Malik Malik? Malik!Malik MalikMalik!Malik?!! Malik!??! As scripts went, it wasn’t much to go on.
His pen hovered over the page, uncertain.
“I know how you look when you come,” Malik said quietly, and the room went still.
The silence held for a long moment. When Malik glanced up Altair had dropped his hand from his face. He wasn’t smirking anymore. His eyes were wide, expression open without being readable. Malik had a clear impression of some dangerous animal startled by an unexpected noise.
Altair got up and turned off Malik’s phone.
“You think so? A lot of people must, then.” Altair gestured to the room with his head. He sat beside Malik rather than returning to his chair. “Speaking of formulaic.”
Malik turned to stare at furniture. “What?”
“You say formulaic as though everyone is a bastion of originality.” Altair's voice was low and intimate, like they were in a crowd and had to talk close to hear one another. The house was so quiet Malik could hear birds outside.
Altair sunk in the cushions, sitting back on his heels. It stretched his pants over his groin and Malik couldn’t bring himself to look and see if Altair was hard or not. “Interviewing the porn star—your academic superior and now the topic of your paper,” said Altair. His arm slung across the back of the couch parallel to Malik’s shoulders. “Wouldn’t it solve everything if those could just… come together? It’s so obvious I think I might suggest it to our writers. I’m surprised one of them hasn’t thought of it already.”
Malik swallowed. “That isn’t remotely the same.”
“No? Should I turn that recording app back on?” Altair tilted his head enough that Malik caught the motion in his peripheral vision. “Malik?”
In a rush of lightheadedness, he realized that Altair could see into his notebook, that he was likely staring at the lines of Malik’s jotted all over page. He moved his hands to shield the paper. “No, Altair. We can leave it off.”
A pause. Malik blocked the returning insistent images of fingers, muscles, harsh whispers. Altair slid closer, rising on his knees and still not touching him. He bent his head to Malik’s ear and said, “Your phone has a camera, doesn’t it?”
—and that. Malik blinked slowly, forcing himself not to squeeze his eyes shut. It was a bluff. A joke at Malik’s expense. Altair pulling aside new inner curtains to reveal unforeseen depths to his own arrogance. None of that stopped the flush across Malik’s skin, desire flooding him in a rush so strong he couldn’t believe he’d been naive enough to think himself turned on before now. This was turned on.
He had to actually grasp the stupid notebook to keep it from falling off his lap. It kept his hands from punching Altair in the gut, anyway.
“One more question and I think we’re done,” Malik said levelly. “How long have you been doing this sort of work, for the record?”
“You mean,” said Altair, “how many years did you lose scholarships to me while I was fucking on camera for money?”
Malik was too shocked to deny it. It took his breath away.
He looked up at Altair, mouth open. A clock chimed somewhere. Altair lifted himself off the couch without turning from Malik’s face. His eyes were flat, unreadable, filled with a cold intensity. “I have class,” he said. Bare feet padded around the hardwood floor out of sight, Altair behind him picking things up, slipping on sandals. It was like the second half of their interview had never happened. “Did you get what you needed?”
“Yes, I think so,” said Malik after clearing his throat.
“Good. I look forward to seeing the citation in your paper.” The front door opened somewhere behind the couch. Malik hadn’t turned around. “The bathroom’s down the hall. Ezio gets out of his lab in fifteen minutes but the front door should lock behind you if you leave before that.”
The door closed behind him without an actual farewell. Malik listened to the footsteps tread down the concrete path to the street.
He told himself he wouldn’t. He told himself he wouldn’t and seconds later stood in the bathroom anyway, plugging earbuds into his phone and scrolling through the audio file with feverish haste, searching for the lines he needed—
What gets you hard, Malik? In that moment of hunger he’d thought, imagined when asked, of kneeling between Altair’s legs, of being directed to remove Altair’s shorts with his teeth as fingers slipped around the back of his skull, his jaw held and a thumb hooked in his mouth to open him up—and Altair, murmuring amused praises as he fed Malik his cock, slow and gentle enough to be teasing, until Malik was panting for it, straining forward—
And now that Malik thought about it, there was a strong hint of Altair’s porn to that, wasn’t there. All it was missing were those ridiculous flags.
Malik’s eyes drifted to the ceiling as he considered. Then he threw his phone and earbuds on his bag and checked to make sure the door was locked before turning the shower on cold.
Dancing under icy water wasn't how he planned to end his afternoon, but considering there was exactly zero chance of making it home without being arrested for public indecency Malik supposed it would have to do.
Rating: soft R
Pairing: Altair/Malik
Summary: Written for Sophie's porn star au! Wherein college student Malik decides to write his thesis on the porn industry and sends out a call to interview some real porn stars and I bet you can’t guess who answers. This is their first meeting.
-
Malik had set his phone on the coffee table to record their interview and he was letting Altair ramble through a mercifully dull tangent about equal pay agreements. Or maybe something about merchandise. Malik personally hadn’t been paying attention since the anecdote about the threesome and the O-ring gag, around when it became suddenly difficult not to stare at Altair’s mouth.
Now Malik was mostly engrossed in being irritated and making sure his notebook completely covered his erection.
They were twenty minutes into the meeting. Malik no longer doubted Altair was a porn star, though star seemed to be an exaggeration, however much Altair’s ego denied it. The studio he worked with was small, independent. Just large enough to have a modest but devoted following.
But that wasn’t the point.
Malik knew of Altair, with the sort of grudging awareness high functioning undergraduates from related departments could have for one another, especially after having been in competition for a number of the same scholarships in years prior. And their faculty advisors knew each other in some capacity as well. Malik’s had always made a point of passing along news of Altair’s academic feats to the amused tune of so what are you going to do about it? while trying to goad Malik to higher excellence, no doubt. It tended to work. But paired with some aggravating encounters with Altair at university events, Malik had developed a certain aversion for him in person.
He wondered if Altair would notice if he snuck a hand into his pocket to rearrange himself.
“Then you just pour in the liquid rubber and bam, personal dildo,” Altair concluded, stretching against his chair and curling his legs under him. Malik found himself trying to ignore Altair’s bare feet, which he’d only seen bare once before, from the video online. They were tough but finely arched, and Malik noticed it first on the toes but all of Altair’s nails were polished and clipped. Was it for his… work? Some aesthetic or safety choice? The convenience of carefully shaped nails, prepared to be slipped in just about anywhere at a moment’s notice—
“So who writes their senior thesis on the porn industry, anyway?” Altair’s eyes narrowed, sensing a less-than-focused audience.
Malik swallowed and forced himself to abandon the image of shallowly thrusting fingers, illusory harsh whispers in his ear that sounded very much like Altair. “If we could bring the discussion in,” Malik said. He picked up his pen from the crease of the notebook and then set it down again, finally registering what Altair had said. “...You have a dildo shaped like your own dick?”
“Merchandizing,” Altair said, hands spread. “The production team let me keep the first one they made as a memento.”
Forgetting his phone for a moment, Malik said, “Well, it would give you something more industrious to do when people tell you to go fuck yourself, I imagine.”
Altair’s face froze in surprise. Then he laughed, leaning forward over the coffee table with his cheek propped on his hand, eyes narrowed in interest now. “What other things do you imagine?”
“If we can continue with the interview,” said Malik to remind him. Both of them. “As… someone active in the industry you must have an opinion on the cons of porn, so to speak. Do you disagree?”
With a snort, Altair returned to his chair, slouching in it and letting his head fall back. Malik’s gaze followed the exposed line of his throat. “Disagree with what?” Altair said, mouth twisted with impatience.
Malik inhaled. He was for the idea of porn in general. But he was also turned on, full of a nameless frustration at Altair, and a complete interview of both of them agreeing with each other wouldn’t provide the depth of opinion Malik wanted. He tried recalling anti-porn arguments from memory while trying not to stare at Altair, whose legs had fallen open when he slumped back.
“You don’t think there’s a risk of detachment from reality?” he said. “Compulsive use, development of unrealistic expectations? The industry as a whole is condemned constantly as a source of misogyny and unhealthy sexual behavior. Among other things.”
Altair rubbed a hand around his neck and through his hair. “It’s wish fulfillment,” he said as though he was tired of clarifying the point. “Of course there’s a risk of compulsive use and detachment from reality. If you want to get upset about porn corrupting people, better throw in movies, books, and everything else while you’re at it. And yes, it is possible for one person’s wish fulfillment to be another person’s oppression,” said Altair after a pause, and Malik thought, fuck. Malik could have written that. It’s what Malik would have written except snappier, more accessible, and now he had to cite Altair as a source. Even if it was under his stage name, Malik would know. Altair would know. Damn him.
“Then that’s it?” Malik said, failing to care if he sounded cross. “Buyer beware and good luck?”
“I said it was fantasy, not perfect.” Altair sighed. “The industry's huge and all the more susceptible to going bad. But you realize how long porn has been around, don't you? I don’t see how the solution can be to ban a whole genre and force everyone to stop. Who decides where that stops? I'd as soon keep the porn and focus on getting rid of the misogyny and the rest of the corruption in the industry, myself.”
Well, Malik thought. He couldn’t let Altair continue talking.
“Do you watch porn?” Malik heard himself say.
The answer was not an immediate, to his surprise. “Not as much as I used to,” said Altair. “I’m pickier now, and I end up studying the film and thinking about work half the time anyway.”
“And has the decline in watching porn positively or negatively impacted your own sex life?” Malik said, still hearing the words from far away. His throat felt dry.
“It’s harder to find something that works, so I suppose I’m better at masturbating without assistance now,” Altair said and shrugged at Malik’s closed expression. “I can slow down and make an experience of it, focus on my pleasure, my wants.” He touched the base of his throat like he wasn’t aware he was doing it. The fingers slid down to rest over his stomach while he spoke, and he turned his bottom lip in, wetting it. “And you, what’s your fantasy?” he asked, not the same question at all. His mouth quirked and he added more precisely, “What gets you hard, Malik?”
Altair was looking right at him. Malik pushed down subtly on his notebook, putting pressure on his cock. “Finishing this interview would top the list currently.”
His nerves sparked as Altair’s eyes shifted to the notebook, or maybe simply at Malik’s groin, hold there longer than an idle glance. Then Altair glanced back at Malik, letting the silence open up between them like the complete bastard he was.
“Have you watched anything of mine?” he said.
He’d gone so far as to prepare an elaborate statement of denial for this very question. “Just one,” he said instead, the truth slipping out.
Altair smiled. “Did you jerk off to it?”
No, he hadn’t. He found the videos online but closed the window and deleted his browser history before they finished buffering. Then he spent a sleepless night thinking about it before starting his laptop and playing one anyway, alone in his room watching Altair fuck a stranger at the ridiculous hour of three in the morning. He completely gave up trying to fall asleep afterwards, amazingly and unexpectedly aroused yet somehow unable to touch himself over it.
Perhaps for this moment. The victorious expression on Altair’s face anticipating a yes.
Malik couldn’t recall what the other actor had looked like.
“We’re veering off topic.” Malik shifted on the couch, regretting his decision to conduct the meeting in the living room instead of at the table, holding the interview at Altair’s off-campus residence at all while all his housemates were out. The room was too hot, the air heavy when he breathed. “What do you say to the idea that porn is a crutch? That it’s used as an excuse not to relate with actual people?”
Altair’s chest heaved in a sigh, expressly demonstrating his boredom. “Why? Is that how you use it?”
“I—no, of course not.” Malik focused on his notebook rather than Altair, trying to jot something, anything, onto the paper to look busy. And push the notebook against his groin again. “I find it formulaic.”
“Is that code for ‘I don’t use porn’? Because that’s a lie.” Was Altair widening his legs intentionally? “Which video of mine did you watch, again? They aren’t—”
“Formulaic? Oh no.” Malik kept his eyes on the paper. There was now a line at the top of the paper where he’d scribbled his name down over and over again. “I only watched it once so I’m sure I missed some of the deeper thematic design woven into that narrative tapestry. You helping that poor man collect those flags for no apparent reason, and him naturally deciding to thank you by sucking you off in an alleyway. I can’t see how anyone could find that formulaic or thinly veiled.”
He was stabbing the page for emphasis by the end, striking punctuation behind his name.
Altair listened with a hand held over his mouth. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re really thinking,” he said, uncovering part of his lips to revealing a satisfied sneer.
Malik frowned at his notebook. Malik. Malik. Malik Al-Sayf. Malik Malik? Malik!Malik MalikMalik!Malik?!! Malik!??! As scripts went, it wasn’t much to go on.
His pen hovered over the page, uncertain.
“I know how you look when you come,” Malik said quietly, and the room went still.
The silence held for a long moment. When Malik glanced up Altair had dropped his hand from his face. He wasn’t smirking anymore. His eyes were wide, expression open without being readable. Malik had a clear impression of some dangerous animal startled by an unexpected noise.
Altair got up and turned off Malik’s phone.
“You think so? A lot of people must, then.” Altair gestured to the room with his head. He sat beside Malik rather than returning to his chair. “Speaking of formulaic.”
Malik turned to stare at furniture. “What?”
“You say formulaic as though everyone is a bastion of originality.” Altair's voice was low and intimate, like they were in a crowd and had to talk close to hear one another. The house was so quiet Malik could hear birds outside.
Altair sunk in the cushions, sitting back on his heels. It stretched his pants over his groin and Malik couldn’t bring himself to look and see if Altair was hard or not. “Interviewing the porn star—your academic superior and now the topic of your paper,” said Altair. His arm slung across the back of the couch parallel to Malik’s shoulders. “Wouldn’t it solve everything if those could just… come together? It’s so obvious I think I might suggest it to our writers. I’m surprised one of them hasn’t thought of it already.”
Malik swallowed. “That isn’t remotely the same.”
“No? Should I turn that recording app back on?” Altair tilted his head enough that Malik caught the motion in his peripheral vision. “Malik?”
In a rush of lightheadedness, he realized that Altair could see into his notebook, that he was likely staring at the lines of Malik’s jotted all over page. He moved his hands to shield the paper. “No, Altair. We can leave it off.”
A pause. Malik blocked the returning insistent images of fingers, muscles, harsh whispers. Altair slid closer, rising on his knees and still not touching him. He bent his head to Malik’s ear and said, “Your phone has a camera, doesn’t it?”
—and that. Malik blinked slowly, forcing himself not to squeeze his eyes shut. It was a bluff. A joke at Malik’s expense. Altair pulling aside new inner curtains to reveal unforeseen depths to his own arrogance. None of that stopped the flush across Malik’s skin, desire flooding him in a rush so strong he couldn’t believe he’d been naive enough to think himself turned on before now. This was turned on.
He had to actually grasp the stupid notebook to keep it from falling off his lap. It kept his hands from punching Altair in the gut, anyway.
“One more question and I think we’re done,” Malik said levelly. “How long have you been doing this sort of work, for the record?”
“You mean,” said Altair, “how many years did you lose scholarships to me while I was fucking on camera for money?”
Malik was too shocked to deny it. It took his breath away.
He looked up at Altair, mouth open. A clock chimed somewhere. Altair lifted himself off the couch without turning from Malik’s face. His eyes were flat, unreadable, filled with a cold intensity. “I have class,” he said. Bare feet padded around the hardwood floor out of sight, Altair behind him picking things up, slipping on sandals. It was like the second half of their interview had never happened. “Did you get what you needed?”
“Yes, I think so,” said Malik after clearing his throat.
“Good. I look forward to seeing the citation in your paper.” The front door opened somewhere behind the couch. Malik hadn’t turned around. “The bathroom’s down the hall. Ezio gets out of his lab in fifteen minutes but the front door should lock behind you if you leave before that.”
The door closed behind him without an actual farewell. Malik listened to the footsteps tread down the concrete path to the street.
He told himself he wouldn’t. He told himself he wouldn’t and seconds later stood in the bathroom anyway, plugging earbuds into his phone and scrolling through the audio file with feverish haste, searching for the lines he needed—
What gets you hard, Malik? In that moment of hunger he’d thought, imagined when asked, of kneeling between Altair’s legs, of being directed to remove Altair’s shorts with his teeth as fingers slipped around the back of his skull, his jaw held and a thumb hooked in his mouth to open him up—and Altair, murmuring amused praises as he fed Malik his cock, slow and gentle enough to be teasing, until Malik was panting for it, straining forward—
And now that Malik thought about it, there was a strong hint of Altair’s porn to that, wasn’t there. All it was missing were those ridiculous flags.
Malik’s eyes drifted to the ceiling as he considered. Then he threw his phone and earbuds on his bag and checked to make sure the door was locked before turning the shower on cold.
Dancing under icy water wasn't how he planned to end his afternoon, but considering there was exactly zero chance of making it home without being arrested for public indecency Malik supposed it would have to do.
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Yep. Sorry boys, the tension is more entertaining than orgasms.
ugly laughter
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(Also, omg, excuse my gushing, but ugh that Sanza brother fic is still the loveliest thing-- there's such a great sense of each other as one of the few constants in their lives, and the way that there are some things that need to be said out loud with them, and others that don't. Auuuugh I love it.)