Six Feet Apart, Please! (Percy/Leon)

Percy, who had been absorbed in his work, as usual, heard him before he arrived but didn't acknowledge until his presence couldn't be ignored. He pulled himself out of the circuit board he was soldering and blinked up at Leon from behind his heavy-duty goggles. "Huh?" he asked vacantly, though just seconds later his delayed brain processed the words. "Oh, uh...yeah. I'm hungry," he said as his stomach rumbled loudly as if frustrated at only just now being recognized. "A salad with grilled chicken with walnuts and chia seeds...maybe a chile-lime dressing," he said, not really knowing where Leon was ordering from. In his focused state of mind, he couldn't fathom that it was anywhere but the popular clean-eats place in town, which is where he always ordered on the days his home was without a cook. Leon's offer to pay was taken in stride since if there was one thing he was learning about his assistant, it was that the guy didn't like handouts very well. Despite the fact that letting the person in the room-- who would miss 3,000 jewel about as much as a stray coin so worthless that no one bothered to stop and pick it up-- pay was the no-brainer, Leon never seemed to see it that way. It didn't matter anymore, though. The rogue-faced man probably hadn't noticed, but Percy just added the sum back onto his paycheck.

Percy, who had always been a bit of a lab hermit, was even less likely to leave his home now that BOVID-19 was ravaging Ishgar. Any groceries, snacks, and any supplies needed were shipped in with no contact by Dagger personal shoppers. It was subtle, but there was an extra bit of anxiety held in the young man's shoulders, a general unease that only increased any time he heard about it on the news. In the rare instances where he'd had no choice but to leave his Rose Garden home, he wore his ridiculous looking but absolutely germ-proof face mask and stripped down to his underwear to leave the contaminated clothing outside for someone to fetch and clean. Most people were unaware, but Percy was a germaphobe. Most thought since he worked in the medical industry as well as technology that he'd be unphased by disease and illness-causing pathogens, but his medical expertise was more in the marrying of tech and medicine with the occasional life-saving surgery on injuries and undiseased physiological issues. He stayed very far away from working with anything contagious. Maybe it was that time when he was little where he'd caught a sinus infection 4 times in a row from every member of his family and was certain he'd never feel better again...

Leon was lucky he'd been too distracted to notice the scratchiness in his friend's voice. Percy wouldn't hesitate to go into lockdown panic, and it was only his knowledge of the human body that would keep him from spraying any sick person in the face with Pysol. With a sigh, he placed his tools down and set to using a different type of cleaner to rid his hands of the grease from working on the arm portion of some sort of cybernetic suit. And as usual, he missed the smears on his cheeks under his goggles, even as he slid the goggles back on his head like a hairband. "I didn't even realize it was lunchtime...or is it dinner time?" the youngest Dagger son asked, swiveling in his chair to stand and stretch. He'd been hunched over that table for hours now.

[wc: 593 || total: 1171]

Space Cadet was slowly coming down out of his mind galaxy, indicated by the focus and sharpness returning to his eyes as he stared at Leon. "Oh," he muttered when the man said he hadn't even said the restaurant, which now that he thought about it, was too crucial a detail to assume. "Sorry," he said with a weak smile, reaching up to scratch the back of his head. Trying to do so caused a stiff twinge, so he began rolling his sore shoulders instead. He was used to his body feeling stiff and achy after a long day in the lab, but it didn't make it feel any better.

Leon began nagging him about his mindless habits again, to which he sighed in resignation and nodded. "I'll try to do better," he said for probably the millionth time in return, half-heartedly returning a few tools to their holders and cases. He didn't exactly get the whole table cleared before he lost interest and started rubbing his eyes instead. After adding an eyedrop to to his damaged eye. "It's hard to sit up straight and have the stability to work on intricate things, or get a good view..." he tried to defend himself, though in this case, both were right. Percy couldn't really have great posture and do most of what he did, but Leon was right that his back would stuffer. A smile crossed his lips as he thought of something. "Working men's' backs are supposed to hurt, right? Maybe someday I'll come home to someone who will rub it for me," he tittered at his own joke. It was a nice thought, but he hardly considered it to be in his cards.

Now that his dark-headed assistant had ordered the food and had taken a break from prodding his idiosyncrasies, he was curious about the project he was working on. The issue was... Leon made a noise. Percy leaned away a little, mismatched eyes appraising him with mild alarm. Squinting, Percy proceeded with his explanation of his work, since he loved explaining it to Leon just about as much as Leon liked hearing it. The scarred man was the only person to show that much interest in what he was doing since he was in school and his teachers thought they could take credit for his brains. Leon didn't have that ulterior motive. "It's the circuit board for a new cybernetic suit focused on speed," he answered, not explaining too much since Leon probably remembered that he'd been on a cybernetic suit kick lately. He'd already completed five others, focusing on various aspects of a fight. Each improved on the others, and even those were studies for something much bigger he had in mind.

Unable to contain his germaphobia, Percy blurted out the question that had been eating at the back of his mind. "Leon, are you feeling okay? Is your throat sore?" Surely he was just being paranoid. There was no way, after all his efforts to stay out of the public to avoid the dreaded BOVID, that it had just walked into his lab and infected everything. Right? Right?

[wc: 523 || total: 2327]

Percy was still all sorts of paranoid about that sore throat and his consistent clearing of it, but he was trying not to come off like a psycho. In fact, he chanted 'don't be a psycho' over and over in his head a few times, trying to talk himself down from his trigger happy bleach finger. Maybe it was just allergies. There'd been a lot of over paranoia out in the world, people getting punched for harmless coughing and sneezing related to allergens in the air. He said he felt fine. If he had boronavirus, he'd feel horrible, if not need to go to the hospital.

With a nervous exhale and shaky laugh, the half-and-half head would nod. "You've had that feeling a few times now. Never play poker," Percy teased, making a more serious attempt at stretching out his body. Once he was finished, he knocked his fists into one of those biceps Leon had been patting earlier. "Come on, let's go outside. I don't want to knock off all I worked on today," he said, moving past his friend and toward the door. As Leon repeatedly pointed out, his lab was far too cluttered to safely move around in when in a hurry, so horsing around would just...be a terrible idea. Besides, his assistant would love his mind if they had much more of a mess to clean up than the messes Percy usually made.

Once outside, the chilly winter air nipped at any exposed skin, invigorating him more than any caffeinated tea would. It had snowed a few days before, but the sun had melted most of it away. Most of the grass was visible once more, with only lines where the shoveled powder had built up and frozen leftover. However, the sun was no longer shining, and the thick gray clouds overhead and the crisp scent in the air foretold of another snow squall on the way, but they had plenty of time for a round or two before the flakes started. As usual, the tech nerd transformed into his more confident self with that cocky sideways grin appearing on his lips like it always did when they sparred. "Alright, come on, then. Try your luck, Leon," he said, getting into a defensive stance with his fists raised and feet planted lightly enough that he could move in a split second if he needed to.

[wc: 400 || total: 3281]

Testosterone pumped through Percy's veins with every elevated heartbeat. Few things got him going like a spar. It was one of the few reliable constants in his life that he'd always enjoyed. Some of his fondest childhood memories were sparring with Wallard and Artemis. Though he'd never admit it aloud, Wallard was more like a father to him than his actual father, so many adolescent issues were worked through in their countless spars. It was where everything he was as a person met action, and what came tumbling out was dealt with and what remained was better than the start. Progress felt good, especially when the wheels were spinning in mud in every other part of your life.

Eyes gleaming, Percy took in the taunt with his own condescending expression. "Oh yeah? Like I haven't heard that one before," he responded sharply, trying to provoke his opponent. His ego got the better of him sometimes. He knew there would be a day when Leon would deserve to win, and as a good teacher, he'd have to let it happen. However, Leon wasn't there yet, so for now he'd lord his skill and be what his mentee could aspire to be someday. At least, that was his plan. Percy had to admit that Leon was improving at a rather alarming rate, and it didn't help that he wasn't quite in the same shape that he was when he'd fought Leon the first time. His body was still haunted by the consequences of being inside Fairy Tail's guildhall when it was knocked down. He'd lost a little muscle mass just from how long it took to heal up. Going so long without working out had robbed him of his top strength, and even though he'd been working hard to build it back up, his leg was full of pins and rods that ached and his ribs were still tender. But, in true Dagger style, he'd not acknowledge these weaknesses and continue to act like he was on top of his game.

As the jab came for his face, Percy easily pivoted on one leg to move Leon's target out of the way. At the same time, one hand came up to push on top of the fist containing all of Leon's momentum, aiming that force abruptly at the ground. If he'd wanted, he probably could have gripped the wrist instead and flipped Leon flat on his back, but he was content with just knocking him off balance. As he then stepped into Leon's passing space, he gave him a hearty slap on the back, which probably wouldn't help the balance issue. "Mm, better, but I'm still smirking, I bet."

[wc: 447 || total: 4278]

Percy's smirk widened into a satisfied grin, enjoying how his taunts got the better of Leon. But then, in a twist of fate and probably some karma he deserved, Leon got the better of him. For a split second, Percy forgot about his weak spot. While he lifted an arm to block the shot at his head, he intended to tank through the rib shot as he had in their first fight. However, as the wild blow of pure frustration and impatient strength collided with his tender midsection, a powerful pang of pain stole his breath, or rather, had it all rushing out of him. "UGHN!" he groaned. Refilling his lungs with a sharp inhale, it felt like every muscle in his body lost strength at exactly the same time. Dropping his shoulder to curl his elbow toward the injury was all he could do at first, that and gasp and grunt. His focus broke as well, so he didn't even notice Leon's dip in physical performance. All he could think of was getting out of range of another shot while he tried to recover.

Staggering a few steps back, his arms curled around his ribs as if the heat and pressure from his arms would soothe the jolts of agony. They were no longer broken, but the tenderness persisted. The heavy structure beam that had struck him there nearly crumbled the bones there, just as his leg bones had been. Dropping to one knee, he took a moment to try and compose himself, but really only ended up angling his angry face up at Leon. It was rarely a good sign when Percy when serious and silent. Without warning he sprung, not to continue their boxing match, but in a thoughtless body tackle that would send them both tumbling to the ground in a mess of limbs. Just what he'd do if he managed to pin the larger man was unclear. Perhaps Percy didn't even know yet.

[wc: 329 || total: 4908]

"Oof!"

Wrestling always looked questionable at best and considering these two's history, it was even more questionable than usual. The twinging in his ribs still robbed him of the strength he needed to get an edge on Leon, so in the end, his wrestling was pointless and he was being pinned roughly against the cold, damp ground. With a growl of displeasure, he struggled to get his wrists free. He brought his legs up and clenched them around Leon's waist, trying to twist his body and throw the dark-haired man's balance off for a last-ditch roll-and-pin. But no, Leon was too sturdy in this position. He wriggled for only a few seconds more before he seemed to finally accept it. When Leon said that was enough, he'd meant it. Nothing short of a crotch kick would get him out of this, and that was a dick move he wasn't willing to pull unless it was life or death. Percy's muscles relaxed and he laid beneath him, his chest heaving from the effort. Like Leon, his face was flushed and a little sweaty from all the activity, giving him the healthy glow of someone who had just worked out, except he was in an expensive black button-up that was now missing its top two buttons and was untucked from his grass-stained khaki pants. His normally perfectly combed head of half-red, half-white was mussed and wild, the white and red mixing haphazardly on the very top and against his forehead. This close to each other, each labored breath brought in the rugged sandalwood scent and the natural musk of the wolfish man looming above. Indeed, this was familiar, but unlike before, Percy wasn't drunk. No, he was high on testosterone instead, and in an even more precarious position.

After a pause for them both to get some of their air back in their lungs, the defiant Dagger spoke. "Now what?" Percy asked in an odd tone (huskiness probably sounded weird coming from him), his eyes intense, but not so much with anger now. It was an aggressive expression to be sure, one that was primal in some way. Challenging. Provoking. Interested. Excited.

Percy had this magnificent talent for turning his big, beautiful brain off at the oddest times, usually unintentionally. He prided himself on being a brawler who also used his brains, but occasionally he was all body and no mind when emotions got involved. At the moment, he seemed to give off the same vibe as at the tail end of the Single's event. Tension. His heart rate was rising for a different reason as Leon sunk his pressure into his wrists, and subconsciously his mismatched eyes flickered away from those marigolds to his angular jaw and mouth. This was the part where he'd said something about not being as fragile as fine china before, but for now, he was silent. The blush persisted on his cheeks and ears, like a beacon that Percy was shamelessly attracted to the man over him. Slow blinking eyes rose back to the golden ones, curious and questioning.

[wc: 514 || total: 6037]

When the phone buzzed and Leon stopped his face's descent to lean away and answer it, frustration crossed Percy's features. It was just a split second, but then his eyes widened. The moment's spell was broken. Wait. What were they doing? What was he doing?? What had he been about to let happen, or worse, wanted to let happen? As his senses returned to him and all that confidence retreated back to that primitive cave it crawled out of, Percy was left mortified. He turned into a tomato from the neck up.

Also avoiding looking too directly at Leon, the inventor hastily took the offered hand, stood, and released it. Back to running it would seem, but unlike his ungraceful, hurried, and humiliating exit from the Single's event, he was already home. He had nowhere to run and hide, so they'd just have to surf this awkward moment together... over lunch.

More troubling on many fronts was that gaze Leon had been giving him wasn't forced by some idiotic handcuff scenario. Percy was extremely inexperienced in this sort of thing, but it'd seemed he'd been about to kiss him. Which had been what part of him had wanted (yikes), but he'd been under the impression that he'd been the only one falling victim to hormones under duress before, which had been more than painful to navigate. Had he misunderstood? Did it matter if he had? Leon had kissed his cheek not too long ago as well, but that had been mistletoe...but he could have ignored it if he wanted.

Mind whirling with compounding conflictions, Percy didn't hesitate to turn his back to Leon and head back around to the front of the lab. Snatching up the bag of food, he continued inside and into the designated break corner. It was where the TV was earlier and was predictably the cleanest area in the lab thanks to Leon. He placed the bag on the table, dug his salad out, and flopped onto the couch. He didn't start eating right away, though. He added the dressing but ended up mindlessly mixing it in while he gnawed on the inside of his lip. It was so easy for the guy to slip into his thoughts and get lost, worrying about the implications of his new struggle on top of all the others. Sometimes it was exhausting...

Soon enough, though, with an inhale he actually speared some lettuce and chicken and crammed it into his mouth. Once he swallowed, it seemed he was ready to move on. "Uh...good fight. Finding an opponent's weaknesses is crucial," he complimented, choosing to ignore the fact that he'd lost his cool for a second over it. He'd spin it in a different way. "Also, you did well being flexible when the unexpected is thrown at you. You're, ah, improving very quickly!"

[wc: 473 || total: 7059]

Ignoring Leon's continuing jabs in an effort to not lose his temper again, Percy only huffed through his nose and dug out some of the nuts and seeds in his salad. They always seemed to sink to the bottom, which was a shame. They tasted nice mixed in with the healthy leaves and grilled chicken

"You what?!"

As was always Percy's first instinct, the initial alarm faded into skepticism. "Oh, you're just teasing me, right? Well, ha ha, good one," he rolled his eyes. However, the truth niggled at this brain. The clearing of his throat. He'd asked about it earlier, fearing BOVID. Leon could just be ribbing him about it, or...

Maybe it was better to be safe than sorry.

Putting his now half-eaten salad on the table, he angled toward his couch mate. Percy wasn't exactly the most nurturing of people, since he hadn't received much of that growing up to use as an example. For the majority of his life, his mother was as detached as she could get due to the loss of his stillborn brother. She'd never been quite right as far as he could remember, and the Dagger patriarch maintained his estate with chilled firmness and was rarely home. The closest example was Wallard, who was basically a male nanny, but also the head of all the other personal staff in the Dagger household. Many times had Wallard checked him for fever since Percy had been a rather sickly child. Almost without thinking, a concerned Percy reached out to push the dark, messy hair back from his friend's forehead, then stretched up to press his lips against Leon's forehead. The lips had the most sensitive sensation receptors in the whole body, which was why babies put everything in their mouths. This made them perfect for a quick temperature check.

Oh no, he was hot... It'd been enough time since their scuffle that he should have returned to a base temperature, but his face was still flushed and sweaty. This was bad!

If he'd had his can of Pysol, he definitely would have sprayed the man in the face, point-blank. So horrified was his expression that it looked as if he would leap out of his skin. He didn't need it anymore. it'd been touched by this infected person, and thus was compromised itself.

Now seemed like the best time for that shower. Abruptly standing and moving with urgency, Percy sprinted to the emergency shower station that was used when he spilled corrosive materials. His shirt was already off by the time he pulled the curtain closed, and in comedic speed, he washed himself as clean as he could get with the highest strength soap and emerged from the shower area in a literal hazmat suit. Germaphobe Perseus didn't mess around. He knew it could already be too late and he was infected too, but if he thought about that too hard, he'd freak out. And no, this wasn't even freak out levels yet. He would operate as if he wasn't infected and hope for the best.

"Into the house," he ordered, pointing to the lab door. "We're quarantined for at least two weeks. I have spare bedrooms." Yes, he seemed pissed. Pissed and on edge. And a little scared, for both himself and for Leon...and about trying to care for someone. He wasn't sure he knew how to do that, but surely there were guidelines online. At worst, he could call someone from the medical department, right?

[wc: 583 || total: 8254]

"I'm rarely in here. Not a lot of downtime. Besides, the maid comes once or twice a week," he said off-handedly, still seeming quite sour but at least a little soothed that Leon hadn't fought him on his orders. It was true that most of the house was devoid of his personal touches, and for a wealthy man, he didn't own a lot of stuff. Most of his funds went into magical research and equipment for the next big project in the lab. His other living expenses, while higher than the average person's due to the level of comfort he was accustomed to, were minimal considering how much jewel he made. The Dagger personal staff that he borrowed from the main estate were well paid out of his pocket and received a handsome bonus. "So no, I'm not messing with you. If you want proof, check my bedroom," he quipped, though he didn't mean right now. He'd prefer Leon keep his germs out of where he intended to sleep without the hazmat suit.

Okay, so he had the sick man in his home. Now what? How did one care for someone who was sick? He thought back on his personal experiences and what Wallard had done when he caught a cold or had that horrible sinus infection. Awkwardly pausing n some sort of thinking process, Percy stared at Leon for a long moment, planning his course of action. At the moment, his patient seemed to feel decent, which meant he could stay on the couch where the TV was. Supplies? Box of tissues, small trash can, cough drops, glass of water, blanket, cold compress, and fever-reducing pills should he need them. "Sit on the couch," he ordered again, turning to fetch all the things he'd just thought of from their various places around the house. "Uh, please," he added, realizing he'd sounded a little harsh. Sure, he wasn't happy about the very thing he'd feared and been careful to avoid being brought to him by someone he'd trusted, but it was what it was. No use being rude. Now they would just deal with it.

The room he'd indicated was at the front of the house, to the left of the front door. Two sides of the room were completely covered floor to ceiling with windows, a third wall served to hold the large TV and shelves for DVDs, books, and a few small figurines from his favorite animated shows. Opposite of the TV was a sleek black couch made from expensive faux-leather (meaning it was both beautiful and comfortable) on a fluffy white rug, otherwise, the dark wood floors might make guest's feet cold. In front of the couch was a simple glass table, and overhead was an artistic chandelier that looked like a starburst. There was also recessed lighting behind the TV, in case dimmer mood-lighting was needed. The fourth wall that would have enclosed the room was missing, stretching the floorplan out into a spacious open concept. The kitchen was a stainless steel, gray, and white masterpiece. Depending on the angle, an activity room could also be seen behind the wall with the TV, where there was a pool table and some other non-electronic activities for parties...not that Percy ever had anyone over. However, the house was designed to accommodate anyway, just in case. Across from it was some minimalist stairs leading up to where three bedrooms and a study were situated. There were three full bathrooms, the master attached to Percy's room, another up across from the other rooms, and one downstairs behind the activity room. It was the smallest one, but still plenty nice.

It was pretty clear a professional had designed and lightly decorated to make it feel somewhat homey, while the white walls and black furniture color scheme that Percy had chosen basically shouted that he kept people at a distance. If not for the few figurines, personalized DVDs, and books, anyone could have lived here.

After a few trips back and forth, the makeshift mother hen had collected all the necessities he could think of. Navigating in the bulky suit was already grating on his frayed nerves, and more than once had he bumped into something as he rushed around, but he managed to line up all the things on the coffee table and at Leon's disposal. Last was the cold, damp cloth, which he was waiting to put on that feverish forehead his lips had grazed. "Get comfortable. You should probably lay back so this doesn't slide off."

From the worried look on his face, it was clear that Percy was stressing out over Leon's fate. People had been dying from this stuff. What if he did something wrong? They may have only known each other a couple of months, but he hadn't spent so much consistent time with another human being outside of his family since Dagda, and Dagda was busy being a guild master these days. He was used to Leon's presence now. The nagging about his cleaning habits, relying on him for some of the mechanical work on his projects, even his tendency to interrupt Percy's work to either ask about what he was doing or encourage him to get up and eat. Sparring was something he looked forward to since it served as the only physical contact he had with other people. It was the best way he knew how to interact with anyone. It was a bit of an overreaction, but thinking about how all of that could stop because of this virus had the poor guy spiraling already.

[wc: 933 || total: 10138]

"I'm not making faces," Percy protested, clearly unable to see his own mug twisted into acute concern. Wrinkles were the least of his worries since the burn on the left side of his face would crease long before his age called for it. "Why would I need to worry about wrinkles anyway? As if this giant, ugly scar on my face isn't enough?" he quipped back, a little bit of his already dry humor sneaking back into his otherwise tightly wound body. Most times he didn't seem like it, but he was pretty self-conscious of the burn to his face. There was no choice but to accept it, but he did think it made him unattractive. Perhaps it was another reason he never made any effort to keep up with his playboy brother, or even his sister who had gotten a lot of attention. He was the ugly duckling of the whole bunch. Due to the secrecy of the Dagger's...other dealings... Percy had crafted a piece of technology that would disguise his appearance that worked much like the magical rings operatives received but actually worked on him. More than once had he used it to simply remove the damage to his face, eye, and hairline so he could gaze at what he could have looked like... what he should have looked like. He'd looked a lot like his brother only with softer eyes, rounder cheeks, and shorter hair. What would he be like now if his grandfather hadn't thrown his gauntlet back at him?

Making yet another face, Percy frowned, both realizing he'd forgotten a few things as well as getting annoyed that Leon was more worried about his unfinished salad. "No, it's fine. The salad was compromised. I'll eat when we have dinner," he said, though that opened a whole new can of worms. The Dagger didn't know how to cook. There were a few meals prepped in the fridge to hold him over between cook visits, but there was nothing in there befitting a sick person. Sick people needed chicken noodle soup. It couldn't be that hard, could it? If he could mix volatile chemicals together and synthesize fuels from complicated molecular recipes, surely he could make a simple soup.

However, more pressing was the clothing situation. "You shouldn't sit there shirtless..." he muttered, imagining the chill of the cool air inside the home against damp, hot skin would only worsen the chilling effect of the fever, which would surely spring at any moment. Undeterred by Leon's unwillingness to let Percy fuss over him, the half-and-half head leaned forward, his hazmat suit squeaking, and laid the blanket over his torso. "I'll go find you something."

Percy had the same thought about his clothing versus Leon's larger frame. Most of his things were tailored, so they definitely wouldn't have any wiggle room for this much of a difference. However, there were a couple items he could think of. In the many times he'd been in the hospital, cheap, oversized clothes had been required to fit over various casts and braces. He was pretty sure he still had those tucked away somewhere. Or maybe even one of his stretchy tank tops? The young man disappeared upstairs and returned with the articles and presented them to his guest. "Here, put one of these on."

Leon might as well get used to helicopter Percy. He and his alarming yellow suit weren't going away anytime soon, and it was sure to only get worse from here.

[wc: 583 || total: 11421]

As he asked the question, the young man paused. He wasn't used to talking about himself. The incident wasn't even discussed much in the Dagger household. It was just sorta... glazed over it. It happened, it wasn't a great moment, but it was a speck of dirt on the family tapestry that could never quite be washed out, so it was just looked over. Percy's natural distance from others was definitely something he learned from his family.

However, friends talked to each other, didn't they? It was an inevitable question. "Uhm," he started with a filler word, indicating he intended to answer but wasn't quite sure what to say yet. The hazmat suit limited his normal fidgets, so he just had to sit there, turned awkwardly so he could see the man on the couch through the little window in his hood, but then his mismatched eyes dropped to the couch cushion in front of him, where they'd stay. "I was showing one of my inventions to my grandfather," Percy answered truthfully, eyes growing distant. There was so much to unpack from that situation that he couldn't really explain. "It was a prototype for the pyro half of my gauntlets. He looked at it for a second, then flew into a rage, crushed it, and threw it at me. The special fuel sprayed out onto my face and head and then it sparked. Then... whoosh..." he motioned to the burn as if his fingers were flames. Normally he would have stopped there with his explanation, but the stress of the BOVID situation seemed to turn his mouth on like a faucet. More words gushed out of him. "I guess I was trying to impress him or show him that..." he trailed, seeming to lose the words. It felt too edgy to say what first came to mind, which was 'to show I had worth without magic'. A rye smile pulled the corners of his mouth. "I don't know, I guess that I could still be strong with what I could make to make up for not having magic. But to him, 'in power, you find strength' and power is magic, you know? He doesn't tolerate weakness in the family..."

And just like that, he realized that he'd opened the door and rushed to close it. He wasn't sure why, though. Leon knew he had insecurities, yet openly admitting the details of a moment that would forever shape his perception of his life felt like he'd stepped out into public nude. "S-Sorry, that was a bit heavy," he sighed, ducking his head in embarrassment.

[wc: 433 || total: 12,193]

As much as Percy was worried about Leon, especially now that he was worked up, he couldn't help a shy smile and a short chuckle through his nose. His cheeks flushed over the taller man's apparently fond opinion of him, which was admittedly surprising and heartwarming. And a little embarrassing, since Percy wasn't used to being praised. How do you respond to that? He had no idea, but the fluttering in his chest was concerning. "Calm down, killer," he said, not wanting him to get too worked up. He was sick, after all. "I don't think he meant to burn me, though obviously, he did mean to throw my invention back at me. But he's old and pretty frail now, so I don't think it'd be satisfying."

Reaching down to pick up the poor tossed blanket to return to his lap, the scarred man contemplated what his furious friend said. Strongest, smartest, coolest, huh? If Leon had come up against the Mephistopheles Dagger from his childhood, or even his father or brother, he'd most likely rethink calling Percy the strongest. When his grandpa or father released their auras, he couldn't even stand and usually threw up. Given his social life and skills, or lack thereof, coolest hardly applied. Now smartest, at least that one Percy could accept. He wasn't a genius in all things. Far from it. But the few things he did excel in had propelled him to genius status in those areas, so that was something he could be cautiously proud of. Even that, though, wasn't enough to make him a fully successful Dagger... or get him this sort of praise. It felt...good.

Percy snorted a small laugh again as he peered over at the man stewing on the couch. Leon really did look like a raging bull about to gore the heck out of a red-suited bull-fighter. His aggressiveness was... something. It made him feel a certain way that he was trying desperately to ignore. Just like earlier when he'd been laying under him. Just like at the event. Like Leon was a piece of iron and Percy was an awkward, resistant magnet. His intensity was cute, among other things.

Now that his patient had calmed a little, Percy's face also sobered and his cheeks regained their natural color. "I don't know, Leon. As powerful as my family is..." his voice trailed off, unsure how to word it in a way that would be Dagger approved. The Daggers weren't as truly powerful and wealthy as they were because they could punch hard and made smart choices. They were ruthless, cunning, and so strong that no one dared incur their wrath. Even with Grandpa weakened, who could really stand up to the overbearing magical power of Lucarius Dagger, and now his brother Artemis after his contract with that horrifying demon?

Daggers always had to watch what they said. Image was everything. Act this way, look this way, speak this way, succeed this way. Percy didn't live up to that image, no matter how hard he tried. His father, though cold, could at least appreciate that he had plenty of non-magical skill and intelligence. Two out of the three. But it was that third that would always lead to disappointment.

"How did you get yours?" Percy asked suddenly, referring to the ones streaked across his left cheek, and honestly any of the other curious ones on his body. He'd just seen them again when Leon peeled off his shirt, but he remembered them best from that night. Was it weird to want to touch them?

[wc: 596 || total: 13502]