"I don't know, Tycho," he snapped, pushing Ty's hands down so that he could break free of the embrace. "I don't know what we're supposed to be doing, but I'm pretty sure stalking each other at parties isn't helping."

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Set by Lady!

"I wasn't stalking you, I was walking by you - in a crowded ballroom," Tycho snapped back as he grabbed his bottle of scotch back and reopened it. "Do you think it helps for you to come here and start cleaning my room?" He ran his free hand through his now-short hair as he took another shot of his scotch.

  

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Walking by closely enough to overhear things Ford had said under his breath — sure. Ford rolled his eyes, and consequently wasn't cognizant enough of Tycho reaching for the bottle to stop him from taking it.

"I didn't come here to clean your room," he snapped. "I came here to talk to you, but I didn't expect you — passed out drunk in a pile of trash and dirty clothes." This was entirely unfair, he was aware. It wasn't an accurate description of how he'd found Tycho, and even if it had been an accurate description of the room it was hardly suspicious for Ty to be asleep at this time of night. "Give me that," he said, mostly to preempt Tycho's rebuttal, and reached for the scotch bottle again.

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Set by Lady!

"Sorry for being asleep in my own bed after one of the biggest events of the season?" Tycho asked, unable to help laughing at how ridiculous Fords description was. He knew it was a bit bad but it was not that terrible.

As he spoke, he lifted the scotch bottle out of Fords reach so that the other would have to reach up higher. He wrapped his free arm around the others waist and pulled him up against himself. Fuck. Life would be so much easier for the both of them if he didn't love Ford as much as he did.

  

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Ford started to reach up for the bottle, but stopped when he felt Ty's arm around his waist. He scowled and swatted at Tycho's hand, scotch forgotten. "We're not having a cute moment, Tycho," he admonished. "I'm yelling at you, pay attention."

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Set by Lady!

He only laughed some more as Ford swatted at him. "Oh no, my actual first name. You mean business," he said, shamelessly leaning in to press a kiss against the others cheeks.

  

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"And I didn't come here to sleep with you," he said, as though he hadn't heard Ty's jibe at all. A kiss on the cheek wasn't so bad as it might have been. Somehow it seemed less provocative than Tycho leaning back on the bed earlier, even though Ty hadn't been touching him then and was practically wrapped around him now. Ford put one hand to Ty's chest to push him back, while the other grasped around for Ty's wrist so that he could pull his arm off of Ford's waist.

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Set by Lady!

"Perhaps not but oh, you could because no one else owns and plays with my body and soul so thoroughly," he murmured in a low tone. The feel of Fords hand on his chest did little to deter his antics. If anything, it just fueled him. "We could go back to my room.. I could use those silk stockings I wore to tie these lovely wrists of yours to my headboard."

  

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Ford's stomach did an uneasy flip as Ty continued. He hadn't managed to put any significant space between them, despite pressing his hand to Ty's chest; he didn't want to really push when he didn't know if Tycho was fully steady on his feet. This wasn't an enviable position to be in, stuck like this, but at least Tycho had both his hands busy. He wasn't going to move the one on Ford's waist and risk Ford stepping back and moving down the hallway, and there was no where for him to set the bottle occupying his other hand. So Ty couldn't tease him, not properly — it was just words. Ford had willpower enough to survive words. (Didn't he?)

"I came here to talk to you," he insisted. While he may have been ignoring Ty's words for the sake of his conversation the flush on his skin made it obvious that his mind had already jumped to picturing it before he could prevent himself. "About what you did at the ball tonight."

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Set by Lady!

"I didn't do anything at the ball tonight other than drink and dance," Tycho said remorselessly before continuing with his previous line of thought. "Or I could pour this Scotch down your chest and lick it off." It delighted him to see the flush on Fords skin, knowing even his words caused effects.

  

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At this Ford did push Tycho away more forcefully, in addition to pressing Ty's hand back off of his waist. "If you stain my shirt I'm sending you the laundry bill," he grumbled (and was dismayed by the idea as he said it that this was not an entirely unflirtatious thing to say — but he didn't know what he was supposed to say at this point, because he had already asked Tycho politely not to do this and then told Tycho quite bluntly to stop and neither had produced the intended effect, and ignoring it clearly wasn't working either).

"You know that's not true," he contended, about what Ty had or hadn't done at the ball. "I had to try and explain to my wife why my supposedly best friend is angry with me, and what the hell am I supposed to tell her? And she's not going to be the only who notices this sort of thing if you're going to go shoving me at parties."

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Set by Lady!

"That's why your shirt would be off," Tycho said with a smirk. He sighed as Ford continued on about what he had done at the stupid ball. He let Ford go now and took another drink from his bottle of scotch.

"I can't turn it off as easily as you can." And he honestly could care less what Mrs. Greengrass thought about anything."Tell her the truth: that I don't like her and think she ruined all our lives including her own. But you are right, I acted unnecessarily. Maybe I should utilize a pensieve." Except he did not really want to do that. The hurt was part of his love now, it would cheapen it for him to take away the emotional part of his memories, he felt.

  

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If Ford could actually "turn it off" the way Tycho apparently thought he could then Jemima wouldn't have immediately noticed that something was wrong when Ty pushed by. If he could turn it off he wouldn't have had the conversation with her at all, and he wouldn't have ended up here begging Tycho to give him more space. But he wasn't sure arguing the point would make any difference. This was the same thing Tycho had accused him of last time they'd talked. If he still didn't believe Ford then there wasn't anything he could say to convince him.

Ty's remarks about Jemima were entirely unfair, but Ford also wasn't sure that was a fight worth having. Tycho was never going to like her, no matter how faultless she had or hadn't been in the initial scandal, no matter how much she'd tried to make things easier on Ford in the weeks since. Nothing she could do would make things any easier on Tycho. And hearing Ford say she didn't ruin all our lives, I did wouldn't help Ty either, for all that it was true.

Ford looked at him a moment, shoulders tense as he thought of and then discarded half a dozen things to say. Eventually he sighed, shoulders sagging as he pushed his hands into his pockets. "I'm worried about you," he admitted.

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Set by Lady!

"Well, don't." It was an odd contradiction of feelings. He didn't want Ford worrying about him but he was also glad that he did because it kept him in Fords thoughts. "I have enough friends to worry about me - you can let someone else handle.. me." Not that anyone but a select handful knew what was really going on with him.

  

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Being shut down so abruptly stung more than it probably should have. Ty having friends who would look after him was a good thing, objectively — so why did Tycho pointing them out feel like a personal attack? Maybe not exactly an attack, but certainly a rejection.

"I —" I'm sorry I can't make it any easier, he started to say, but the words stuck in his throat. Probably nothing he did would make it easier; what Tycho needed was less of him. What would have made it easier was if Ford had told him to leave, when he'd asked two weeks ago — go somewhere far away and heal, go away and forget about me, go away and maybe fall in love again. Ford hadn't been able to stomach the thought then and he couldn't now either. Asking Tycho to stay was selfish and pointless, but Ford couldn't imagine ever asking him to leave.

I miss you, was the other way he could have finished the sentence. Selfish again. He did, but what good would it be to say it? The only thing at the end of that road was prolonged heartbreak. He could hold Tycho, or kiss him, or take him to bed, but when they finished he'd still have to go home to his wife.

He hated this. He hated looking at Tycho and not touching him, hated not being able to say what was on his mind, hated hurting him.

"I'll go," he eventually said, tone low and head hung. Tycho was right; he had no business being here in the first place.

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Set by Lady!

Ty looked over at Ford as the other started to say something only to pause. He didn't enjoy the look on Fords face and he doubted Ford enjoyed seeing him like this either. But what could he do? He had to cope some way and despite what he had done at the ball, that was tame in relative to the things Ty would do if he didn't know Ford valued his reputation and family so much. Those were the reasons Ford had gotten married in the first place, after all.

"No," he said when Ford said he would go. "Not looking and sounding like that."

  

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