ARCHIVED TWHLAY II:IV
ARCHIVED
The Way He Looks at You Series
Act II: The Way You Look at Him
Chapter 4: The Way You Dress Him
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Story Master List: The Way He Looks at You Series
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You startle awake from a nightmare. The details are fuzzy, but you remember seeing Theo, he was suffering. You tried to run to his aid, to stop the pain, as you had many times before in your relationship. An invisible wall kept you from him. No matter how loud you yelled or pounded on the barrier, he could not sense you.
You watched, helpless, as he cried out in pain from an unknown source. He writhed for hours in agony as you wept. Occasionally, you would hear him mutter something, but the words never quite reached your ears.
You take a few deep breaths; reminding yourself it was only a dream, likely brought on by the stressful last day. You take in your surroundings, allowing the memories of your current situation to wash over you. Gradually you sit up, the sight of the Inquisitor startles you. A hand slaps over your mouth, silencing your gasp. He is sleeping on the floor beside you, atop a makeshift bed. A blanket tangled around his legs, leaving his bare chest exposed. His eyebrows pinch together as he sleeps. You presume he had a fitful night.
You allow your gaze to drift over his chiseled body, wondering if what he says is true, if you slept with him. Honestly, looking at him, you can’t blame yourself. The gods surely carved his body. Your thoughts drifting to how lying with him likely felt.
The only recent memory of such wicked delights is your night with Theo. You can hardly consider those actions lewd, considering the entire affair was over in a matter of minutes. The actions were enjoyable, but left you wanting; you somehow know the Inquisitor would gladly fulfill you. Thoughts of your family flood back in and you remember you still hate him and his kind.
With extreme caution, you maneuver your legs from under the blankets, rustling against the comforter. Once free, you hold your legs in the air at a 90-degree angle, pivoting on your rear before softly touching your toes to the carpeted floor. You freeze, muscles tensed to hold your position as the Thirteenth Brother shifts in his sleep. Muscles burning until sure you can lower your heels to the ground as well.
Each step calculated, you plot your course through the room to the door. You lean forward, trying to move all your weight to your feet before attempting to stand. Then you rise an inch at a time. Every noise sounds like an explosion to your hypersensitive ears. The man lies still, breath heavy and even.
With a slow inhale, you take the first step, planting your foot near the top of his head.
You don’t move for a long moment, watching his perfect face, searching for any sign he has grown privy to your escape attempt. Emboldened by the first successful step, you place your right foot just past his left shoulder. You freeze. This step is near his body and requires an equal amount of analysis. The next step marks your path to freedom, furthering yourself from his sleeping form. Each step becomes less worrisome until you finally reach the door, where you are careful to not destroy your progress.
Both hands placed on the wooden divider, turning the knob incrementally until the telltale click allows it to push open. Head whipping around instinctively. Nothing.
You wince as the door opens, concerned it will creak. It doesn’t, and you send thanks to the Inquisitor for his attention on home maintenance. Once enough space is available, you slip into the cool tiled room and repeat the process, closing and locking the bathroom door.
You breathe a sigh of relief. Briefly considering taking a shower, but the noise will draw attention. Instead, you search for an escape. You move towards the furthest point of the bathroom, the closet. You close the door behind yourself. Another barrier could save you in these circumstances.
You drop to your knees, crawling to search for any potential escape vent. You investigate the perimeter, pushing hanging articles of clothes aside to double check the wall for secret openings. As you reach the back most corner of the Thirteenth Brother’s side, you feel the white metal wall shift under your fingertips.
Your heart pounds in your ears as you glance back at the door, worried he may discover your absence at this pivotal moment. No sounding footsteps follow you, so without further hesitation, you fight to pry the panel off the wall. The tips of your fingernails bend backwards painfully, you pull the injured fingers away from your work.
Maybe the Force is required to remove the panel? But if that were the case, it wouldn’t slide around, loose in its seal. Instead of digging at the edges for purchase, you lay both hands flat against the panel. You push inward, hoping to release a locking mechanism with the added pressure. When nothing sounds a successful attempt, you slide the panel in all directions.
It clicks as you move upwards, your head swivels to check the door again. You push and slide until it falls free. The breath you were holding leaves your lungs and you shove aside the hanging clothes to let more light in.
The overhead light dances through the swinging clothes into the mysterious opening. Your eyes adjust and you realize a black box sits inside the hole, prompting you to pull it free. You toss it aside, more interested in finding a way out than the rifling through the hidden contents of an Inquisitor. It’s too dark, so you crawl partially into the hole and look around.
Nothing else is here. You touch every wall, every corner; there isn’t an exit. Eyes closing in defeat, you back out of the small hole, no closer to escape than before.
Your head bumps against the wall as you make peace with defeat. There is still the possibility of finding useful intelligence for the Rebellion. You slide across the floor and open the box’s lid.
Inside sits a folded leather vest. There are deep scratches and burns across its protective layer. The front has straps of leather with buckles and metal rings. It looks intended for one to be raised high into the air for work. You shudder at the thought of climbing so high with only this protecting you from a fall. You enjoy flying, but you aren’t totally reckless. Ships have far more safety precautions than this clothing could ever offer.
You set aside the clothing to look underneath and find two more garments. These are different, longer. Ponchos? You don’t see too many people here wear such things.
You run your fingers over the faded material; one cream and orange, the other a horrid shade of pink. A giggle almost escapes your lips at the thought of the Inquisitor wearing a pink poncho over his all too black clothing. Could this be his clothing from before? It’s in his closet, hidden, so there’s a strong chance.
These are likely his clothes. A smirk paints your face at the realization you might have some new clothes to wear. After all, he said you are welcome to his side of the closet, and these cover up a fair amount of skin.
There isn’t much time left to snoop so you hang the ponchos on your side of the closet; return the vest to the box and secure in back inside the wall. With most evidence of your snooping contained, you run through the motions of preparing for the day and start the shower. You hear a knock at the bathroom door after stepping inside the lovely hot water. You yell over the sound of the water slapping against the tile underfoot.
“I’ll be out in a minute!”
There isn’t a response, but the door stays closed. Perhaps privacy is being afforded this time. Not willing to risk being caught naked again, you hurry through the routine. A towel wrapped around your body, step inside the closet and close the door while dressing.
You hear footsteps outside the door, urging you to rush. Without time to decide what to pair with the poncho, you settle for the freshly laundered black dress you arrived in. The door opens as you throw the final article of clothing over your head.
“I would prefer you not be alone for the ti-”
You turn, looking at the Inquisitor’s face, the corners of your mouth upturned. His eyes slowly scan over your body, not something he has previously done.
“Where did you get that?”
You smile. “You said I was welcome to wear any clothes on your side of the closet.”
“Not exactly what I had in mind.” He says to himself.
His discomfort brings you pleasure, so you push forward. “Look! We can match. That’s what you want, right? Since we were in love, or what not?”
In a swift movement, you grab the pink poncho off the hanger and toss it at Cal. He stands still as the fabric hits his chest and drapes across his left shoulder. The pink brightening his dark clothes.
“I think it makes you look far more approachable.” You say.
Cal’s eyes narrow despite his mouth hanging open.
“You find this amusing?”
You shrug and step past him, reentering the bathroom to see how the new clothes look. “Well, one of us should be the funny one.”
You catch Cal almost smile in the mirror’s reflection, but he masks it. You instead look over the orange and cream poncho. The length is enough to hide all the parts of your body you’d rather keep from the Thirteenth Brother. The diagonal stripes give some shape to the otherwise structureless garment.
Cal follows you, pink poncho still hanging off his shoulder. You turn and grab the material, shifting it in your hands until you find the head hole. You bunch up the material in your palms and open the hole wide; much like one would while dressing a child. Cal watches you, a look of annoyance painting his face. He keeps looking between your hands and your face, glaring enough to let you know your efforts are a risk.
It doesn’t deter you; you reach up and bring the clothing to the crown of his head.
Cal’s fingers wrap around one of your wrists.
“Absolutely not.”
You try to push the fabric lower, but Cal doesn’t budge, holding you tight.
“You’re so boring; boring black clothes, boring black bed, boring everything.” You complain, hoping to get your way.
Cal sighs, the space between his eyebrows wrinkled. “I’ll wear it, but you must only wear my old clothes, none of yours underneath.”
You pull away quickly, but Cal doesn’t release your wrist. “No! I don’t want to just be naked under this! Plus, you said you won’t look at me without my consent! So being naked under this does nothing for you.”
Cal only shrugs and releases your wrist before walking away. Making you feel you are the unreasonable one here. You put the pink poncho on the bathroom counter in a huff.
Cal calls to you from the next room. “The doctor will be here soon. I’ll make you some breakfast in the meantime.”
You choose to pout in the bathroom while Cal cooks. The smell of something awful wafts into the bathroom and you try to cover the scent by burying your nose in the borrowed clothing. A warm, earthy scent fills your nose, bringing mild relief from the horrid smell. You sit on the bathroom counter, breathing in the poncho for several more minutes.
Cal enters the bathroom. “Breakfast is ready.”
He looks curiously at you. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, just something out there smells awful. I can’t stand it.” You say.
Cal’s eyebrows raise significantly, and he nods slowly. “Right, I’ll go see if I can do something about the smell.”
He turns to leave, then pauses. “Anything you would be hungry for?”
You gag. “Uh, maybe just fruit.”
Cal nods again. “Fruit it is.”
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