“I,” Oz announces, with all the gravity befitting of a noble of the Bezarius household, “have gotten old.”
Gil fixes him with a particularly flat stare before lying back on the couch, withdrawing a cigarette from its package. “Do I even need to say it?”
“Well, that’s not to say that Gil hasn’t gotten even older!” He can never quite fathom how Oz can say things like that with such a bright smile. Granted, most days he’s not sure how his master manages to smile at all, but that, at least, he’s used to. “But here I am, thinking, ‘Ahhh, Gil really became a respectable adult, didn’t he?’ One has to be getting old to indulge in that kind of nostalgia.”
Gil allows a sliver of a smile in return. “Don’t even say things like that. You sound like some indulgent grandfather.”
“I can’t help it,” Oz laughs, swinging his legs over the edge of the chair. “It somehow feels like a hopeless pupil is all grown up. It wasn’t that long ago that you couldn’t do a thing without my help…”
“Well,” Gil says, “I wouldn’t go that far.”
“Of course,” Oz says with a dismissive hand wave, “but still, it’s a good thing I was there, wasn’t it? Gil might have gone even longer without being kissed by anyone, after all.”
Gil, in the midst of taking a drag off his cigarette, chokes.
He barely pays attention to the ensuing lecture about the dangers of lying down while smoking, which gives him a chance to recover, at least. There is, after all, one nice thing about Oz’s whims: once they’re fulfilled, he seems to forget all about them. Most of the time.
What’s less than nice was that until that point, he can’t be deterred. He certainly wouldn’t allow it the day, about a year before the coming-of-age ceremony, that he shut them both into an unused sitting room.
“Young master,” Gil had protested, “please open the door!”
“Gilbert,” Oz had sighed, in a tone that suggested that he wished Gil had a surname that could be used for dramatic effect. “Did you hear what you just said? You’re already thirteen and you’ve never kissed anyone? That’s appalling. As your master, I can’t let it stand.”
“I don’t need anything like that!” Gil’s voice cracked. “And that aside, young master, you haven‘t either, have you?”
Oz snickered. “That’s where you’d be wrong, Gil.”
“… huh?” Gil said. “When did you-”
“Well, don’t concern yourself with that for now. That’s a lesson for another day.” Oz reached forward and grabbed both sides of his servant’s face. “Pay close attention, okay? This is valuable life experience.”
Back in the present, Oz leans back in the chair with a long, reminiscent sigh, before obliterating any hope Gil had for a subject change. “It did help though, didn’t it? I’m sure Gil’s become quite the heartbreaker. You’ve probably gotten even better than me now.”
When Gil only coughs, he sits up straight in utter horror. “Not once since then?”
“As if I had time for that!” Gil barks.
“You haven’t actually grown up at all, have you?” With an air of great suffering, Oz stands. “All right. Honestly, we’re going to have to start at the beginning, aren’t we? You’ve probably forgotten everything.”
“Meaning what, exactly?”
“In other words…” With a truly frightening grin, Oz closes in on the couch. “Refresher course.”
When he’s not otherwise occupied, Gil plans to tell his master that he hasn’t grown up a bit, either.
FIC: Raven/Oz - nostalgia
Gil fixes him with a particularly flat stare before lying back on the couch, withdrawing a cigarette from its package. “Do I even need to say it?”
“Well, that’s not to say that Gil hasn’t gotten even older!” He can never quite fathom how Oz can say things like that with such a bright smile. Granted, most days he’s not sure how his master manages to smile at all, but that, at least, he’s used to. “But here I am, thinking, ‘Ahhh, Gil really became a respectable adult, didn’t he?’ One has to be getting old to indulge in that kind of nostalgia.”
Gil allows a sliver of a smile in return. “Don’t even say things like that. You sound like some indulgent grandfather.”
“I can’t help it,” Oz laughs, swinging his legs over the edge of the chair. “It somehow feels like a hopeless pupil is all grown up. It wasn’t that long ago that you couldn’t do a thing without my help…”
“Well,” Gil says, “I wouldn’t go that far.”
“Of course,” Oz says with a dismissive hand wave, “but still, it’s a good thing I was there, wasn’t it? Gil might have gone even longer without being kissed by anyone, after all.”
Gil, in the midst of taking a drag off his cigarette, chokes.
He barely pays attention to the ensuing lecture about the dangers of lying down while smoking, which gives him a chance to recover, at least. There is, after all, one nice thing about Oz’s whims: once they’re fulfilled, he seems to forget all about them. Most of the time.
What’s less than nice was that until that point, he can’t be deterred. He certainly wouldn’t allow it the day, about a year before the coming-of-age ceremony, that he shut them both into an unused sitting room.
“Young master,” Gil had protested, “please open the door!”
“Gilbert,” Oz had sighed, in a tone that suggested that he wished Gil had a surname that could be used for dramatic effect. “Did you hear what you just said? You’re already thirteen and you’ve never kissed anyone? That’s appalling. As your master, I can’t let it stand.”
“I don’t need anything like that!” Gil’s voice cracked. “And that aside, young master, you haven‘t either, have you?”
Oz snickered. “That’s where you’d be wrong, Gil.”
“… huh?” Gil said. “When did you-”
“Well, don’t concern yourself with that for now. That’s a lesson for another day.” Oz reached forward and grabbed both sides of his servant’s face. “Pay close attention, okay? This is valuable life experience.”
Back in the present, Oz leans back in the chair with a long, reminiscent sigh, before obliterating any hope Gil had for a subject change. “It did help though, didn’t it? I’m sure Gil’s become quite the heartbreaker. You’ve probably gotten even better than me now.”
When Gil only coughs, he sits up straight in utter horror. “Not once since then?”
“As if I had time for that!” Gil barks.
“You haven’t actually grown up at all, have you?” With an air of great suffering, Oz stands. “All right. Honestly, we’re going to have to start at the beginning, aren’t we? You’ve probably forgotten everything.”
“Meaning what, exactly?”
“In other words…” With a truly frightening grin, Oz closes in on the couch. “Refresher course.”
When he’s not otherwise occupied, Gil plans to tell his master that he hasn’t grown up a bit, either.