Jealousy - Julian

Mayhaps Julian had mistaken your intentions. That was fine, if so. Incredibly fine. So perfectly fine and he doesn’t have a problem with it at all. His heart certainly doesn’t feel like it’s cracking in two. No, sir.

He enters the tavern where you’d gotten a room, as you usually do when you visit. Gods forbid his sister talk you into staying in his family’s huge, ostentatious home again. The one time she managed it, she did nothing but try and sniff out gossip on his love life like a bloodhound the entire night. Regardless, that’s when he saw you.

At the bar.

With someone that is certainly not him.

It’s okay, really. It’s fine. So fine.

He sulks off to the side, fully intent on grabbing a stool and drowning his sorrows. He would go to another bar, another tavern, another whatever, but…well, his sister had bribed them all not to serve him anymore.

Old Welston that owns this place is the only one who doesn’t really give a shit. Is it a cheap tactic she’s employed lately to make him use his bedroom at the palace? Yes, yes it is. Will he spite her by still not returning home? Also yes.

Despite seating himself at the bar, he has no stomach for a drink tonight. He waves off the serving girl, his eyes continually trailing over to you.

He happens to be watching the exact moment you pour your drink over the man’s head.

Leaping from his seat at that very second, a thrill runs through him as he sees the man reaching for the dagger at his belt. Grabbing his hand from behind, he twists the arm back until-

There it is. A good pop.

In his defense, you wouldn’t pour your drink over the asshole unless he was being awfully creepy. And from the flush on your face, the degenerate must’ve said something rather scandalous.

“Is sprained good enough?” He leans over the man’s shoulder to purr, “Or would you prefer broken?”

“Just get him out of here,” You bite out, glaring at the sorry sap still held in Julian’s grasp.

He winks, shoving the man in the direction of the door. Bastard doesn’t waste any time, at least; he’s out of the tavern like a shot as soon as Julian lets him go.

“And here I thought you’d replaced me,” Julian turns, pressing a hand over his heart.

“Ass,” You huff, sitting back on your stool.

“I do have a pretty one,” He smirks, “But perhaps we should focus on other matters.”

He fills the man’s vacated seat after his last quip. It feels good to be where he belongs once more; perched by you, hanging off your every word.

“It’s decent,” You shrug.

“Decent!” He says, scandalized, “I’ll have you know-“

“Julian,” You interrupt him, your face drawing into a much more serious expression, “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” He dismisses.

“I will, because I appreciate it.” You narrow your eyes, “Deal with it.”

“I love your aggressive affection so, my dear.” He grins, “If you want-“

You cut him off by leaning forward and brushing your lips against his. He has to admit, if you want to shut him up it’s a very effective tactic.

“I don’t feel like having a drink anymore,” You mummer.

You’re exhausted, that much is obvious. He stands quickly, offering his arm.

“Then to bed with you.”

“And you.”

Julian blinks, “You want me to stay?”

“I always want you to stay,” Your smile is a small, quick thing, but it still sends electricity shooting up his spine.

“Oh,” He shrugs, full of faux nonchalance, “I guess I can spend the night here.”

“What’s your alternative?” You raise an eyebrow, “Having tea with your sister?”

He grimaces, “Don’t remind me. The spiteful hag.”

You accept his arm, tugging him toward the stairs. He goes easily, happily, trailing after you like he’s some besotted fool. Well, actually, he supposes that’s exactly the term for himself. Besotted fool.