Chapter Text
“I don’t think I can keep doing this.”
Though he had his attention focused on the cacophony coming from the laundry room as Dirk and Harper were ramping up for another knock-down drag-out argument, Scandalabra heard your quiet lamentation from halfway across the house. Knowing whatever had the human so upset would be far more riveting a tale than the same accusations of cheating leading into loudly making up, he ran back to the kitchen on the tips of his toes, careful to avoid alerting the others with the clicking of his heels against the linoleum. He settled himself atop the dining table, folding his hands across his knees in wait while you shuffled up the hallway.
“They just keep asking for more and more, and I can’t remember who wants what, or who I was supposed to talk to next…” The Dateviators had been shoved to the top of your head after your last interaction with Bathsheba. You thought she genuinely wanted to better connect with the other Objects in the house, but all she wanted was validation for being mean. Though the idea of snail mucin made you a little grossed out, you still wanted to hear what Barry had to say about it. Now she was mad at you for defending him, but being rude wasn’t going to help her convince anyone she was friendly and approachable. You thought she would be another friend who you could share gossip with, but she was nothing like…
Like Scandalabra.
Taking a seat at the dining table, all you had the energy left to do was brace your arms on the table and drop your head down on them dramatically. Well, it looked dramatic, but you really were that exhausted. Even before Bathsheba, you had been helping Daisuke with his deliveries around the kitchen, listening to the others express concern for his well-being. Despite their concern, it seemed like they were relying on you to convince him to rest properly. It may have been your fault he was injured, but you were still nearly strangers, what made them think he was going to listen to you if he already ignored them? The whole debacle had taken up nearly your whole day, and yet you felt like you had made no progress with anyone.
You may have had a charge left in the glasses, but you didn’t want to burden Scandalabra with your complaints. There was nothing scandalous about being the house’s new therapist, and you’d just be treating him the same way some of them were treating you.
Scandalabra watched you expectantly, waiting for you to slip the glasses down your face and tell him all about your day. It was obviously an extraordinary one if it left you so wilted, and he was dying to hear about it. When you took the glasses off your head and tossed them to the side, he was confused. Befuddled. Perplexed, even. Did—did you not want to talk with him? Had he...done something to offend you? Or had another Objet stolen your affection away from him? Crossing his arms over his chest, he let out a pouting huff, as if you could actually hear him.
Even if you didn’t have the energy to speak with him directly, you had always found comfort in simply sitting in the warm light of the lit candelabra, well before you knew it was inhabited by a consciousness. In a sudden move you were on your feet, rushing to your fireplace to grab a small metal lighter from the mantle. It had been a gift from Sam years ago, engraved with an emblem from one of your favourite shows at the time. Mindlessly fiddling with the lid of the lighter, you walked back to the dining table. The candles were about halfway spent, but ever since the Dateviators entered your life, you kept a stock of tapered candles on hand just in case. You didn’t know what would happen if they melted down completely, and you weren’t exactly looking to find out.
Watching you light each candle with care, your hand gently blocking any draft while the flames stabilised, Scandalabra was reminded of all the times he saw you in that very seat, sleepless and distraught with the matters of humans far beneath him that he deign not involve himself with. Of course, you were blissfully unaware of his existence then, babbling to yourself without a care for who’s beauty sleep you may be disrupting. It had bothered him greatly at first, being woken up by a thoughtless, classless, crass human, but once you wrapped your hands around his base as a way to ground yourself, he felt…differently.
Despite his initial annoyance, he started to look forward to your visits, to the affection your would bestow upon him, even if unknowingly. No one else in the house went out of their way to touch him like you did, and you—ha!—you didn’t even know he existed! How pathetic was that, a man of his esteem wanting, nay, needing the affections of a lowly human. He had to beg for something as simple as a kiss from the others, yet there you were, giving your touch freely. Oh, what a touch is was, warm and soft, gentle in a way that made him crave more. It made him feel special, the illustrious human doting on him and him alone. When you were particularly distressed, your fingers would wander up the tapered candles, toying with the melted wax. It was the most intimate sensation, like your were running your fingers through his hair, and it sent shivers down his spine every time.
“I never asked for these glasses, or to be trapped inside my own home like this.” You sighed, already feeling guilty for your misplaced resentment. It wasn’t his fault, or the fault of anyone else in the house, that the Dateviators had been tossed haphazardly through the window of your front door for safe keeping from Valdivian. Just like always, you mindlessly wrapped shaking fingers around the base of the candelabra, letting your eyes get lost in the flickering flames. You remembered so many nights spent just like this, bathed in the dim candlelight while you tried to focus on small chores that could lull you back to sleep. Washing dishes, cleaning your kitchen, or occasionally journaling if you could focus your scattered thoughts enough.
Now, all of those tasks were associated with a being, a mind and spirit that you couldn’t mentally separate from the object you were interacting with. If you washed the dishes, would Daisuke chastise your for your technique? Would washing your laundry lead to you playing relationship counselor for them again? Even trying to write about your experiences would just confuse Diana even further. “I want to help everyone, honestly I do, I’m just...I’m so tired.”
“Oh, my darling…” This was the first time he had seen you so distraught since you became aware of the objects inside your home being much more than they appear. He was not so much a fool to believe this was caused by one poor interaction, but you were always in high spirits, a smile on your face even when the exhaustion was etched into the lines under your eyes. With all of the rumors that found themselves in his clutches, it would be the most abysmal scandal if he had somehow missed the signs of your distress. He watched you often, but perhaps not as often as he should.
“Sometimes I wish they could be more like you.” Now that had his full attention. “That’s why I always come at night, you actually let me relax. It’s nice to just talk with you, y’know? You don’t ask things of me—well, I guess a kiss counts as a thing, but that’s not—I don’t—” Finally realising the flames on the candelabra were growing brighter and brighter the more you talked, you stopped yourself before spilling how much you enjoyed indulging his only request. You had forgotten that the Objects could be aware of you whenever they wanted regardless of whether you wore the glasses or not, surely he had been listening to your rant. It had been too easy to slip back into pre-Dateviator habits, mindlessly speaking your thoughts out loud when you thought you were completely alone. Was he sitting next to you now, watching the blush that burned your cheeks?
“Sorry, Scandy, I-I should go. I don’t know what I’m saying anymore, I just need some sleep.” You extinguished the candles with just as much care as you lit them. Scandalabra reached out for your arm to stop you, but without the Dateviators active you slipped right through his grasp, snatching the glasses before rushing upstairs. Fearing that he, too, would soon find a reason to snap at you, or worse, hate you, hot tears stung the corners of your eyes. Sleep. That was all you needed, then tomorrow you could pretend like this had never happened.
In your sudden absence, Scandalabra was torn between two emotions. He was elated to know you thought so highly of him, and gods it made him want to gloat to anyone who passed by that he was the human’s favorite. Him, the silly dandy whom much of the housedom looked down upon as nothing more than an obnoxious scandal monger. Not that they were incorrect, but that wasn’t all he was. The immense boost to his ego would make it easier to keep up the persona, but… If it were the persona that brought you so much joy, would he ever be able to be himself around you? Surely you’d hate him, thinking him a fraud, a worthless fake. Who in their right mind would like Jonathan Wick, when he could hardly stand himself?
Sensing he was alone in the dining room, he let his shoulders slouch as his body relaxed. The Scandalabra persona was second nature at this point, but sometimes he needed a break. Pulling a pack of cigarettes out of the inside of his jacket, he tapped the top of the carton against his palm. It was a disgusting habit, but one that still brought him comfort after all these years. With a flick of his lighter, a deep inhale filled his lungs with sweet nicotine. A rare indulgence, one he hid from the others in the house ever since you brought him home from a thrift store years ago. With a few more puffs, he snuffed out the cigarette and stashed the rest for another day.
- - V - -
Sleep had been what you needed after all. With a clear mind, and restored patience and empathy, you made your way through another day of speaking to the Objects in your house. It felt like you were finally getting somewhere, reaching the level of a comfortable friendship multiple times. So far you had shied away from love, but your confidence grew with every interaction. All it took was a little practice before it was easier to know what to say and how to react. Though you were still tired, there was a sense of satisfaction in knowing you had what it took to make friends all along, there were just some Objects more challenging than others that made it seem otherwise.
As a testament to your effort, that strange man on Thiscord had told you about a thing called Realization. It seemed too fantastical to believe, but he insinuated that the objects inside your home could somehow be transformed into living, breathing humans. You needed to understand the process more before you dared try it on anyone, but there were certainly a few Objects who you would love to get to know in the flesh, so to speak. For now, you’d keep the possibility to yourself.
With one charge left in the Dateviators, you found yourself hesitating to visit Scandalabra. You worried that he might be upset with you for avoiding speaking to him directly last night, he could be sensitive at times when it came to where your attention was directed. Avoiding him for another day would only make things worse, you knew that. With a determined sigh, you focused the glasses on the candelabra on your dining table, watching the being spring to life in a shower of pink and gold.
“And here I thought you may have forgotten all about your Scandalabra!” He sat on the edge of the table, knees crossed with his arms braced at his sides. “Really, dear, you shant neglect me so. Why, I’d simply perish if I never heard another scandal roll off that devilish tongue of yours.”
The instant the words left his mouth, he regretted them. Here he was, sounding just as demanding at the others in the housedom whom had caused you so much strife just last night. Catching the slight sag in your shoulders, he scrambled to his feet, reaching out to comfort you with a hand on—he wasn’t sure where he could touch you. A hug was far too presumptuous, rumours would certainly spread like the fire that burned upon his wick of the unbecoming behaviour. You had done nary more than hold his hand on one occasion, which somehow felt far more intimate than the kisses you gave so freely. Dammit, Jonathan, just do something!
Grabbing your hand, he let your fingers curl gently around his own. Slowly, oh so agonizingly slowly, he brought your hand up to his lips, placing the softest kiss upon your waiting fingers. Time must have frozen around you two, as you stood transfixed by the sincerity in his expression. It was still Scandalabra, but you were seeing something deeper, far beyond the surface level brashness that had always felt a bit forced in your mind. Without thinking, you took a few steps closer to get a better look, recognizing what appeared to be regret. Your heart dropped like a stone. This was it, he was just trying to break the news softly to you that he no longer wanted you around.
“Even someone as infallible as I make errors with my words, darling. I’d be overjoyed to be graced by your presence, with or without scandal.” He watched the realisation dawn on you as a smile slowly spread across your face. It was quite a lovely smile…F-For a human, that is.
“You were listening to me last night…” Of course he was, you already knew that. Shame burned brightly on your face again. Did he just feel bad for you? He was flippant about, well, nearly everything, and you couldn’t recall him ever apologizing for anything. It was strangely charming, an extension of his self-assurance that was so uniquely him.
“I had hoped it had been something a little more salacious to leave you so exhausted, but hearing you so distraught…” He clicked his tongue, placing a dramatic hand over his heart. “It’s simply unacceptable. I curse anyone who would leave you feeling so.”
The only saving grace from the night before was the fact that you hadn’t shared any names with him. Though he was less than intimidating, you could picture him trying and failing to confront Bathsheba over her self-absorbed behavior. It would be a sweet gesture, but you didn’t want anyone else to bear the brunt of her rudeness. You just wanted to put it behind you, and what better way than to keep his focus on whatever he been hoping to hear from you.
“Salacious, like…”
“Like a fling between the human and an Objet. Why, it would be the scandal of the century!” Oh. It had been...a long time since you intimate with anyone. Not that you didn’t have some experience, it had just been easier to focus on other things recently. Between inheriting the house and all the legalities involved, adjusting to a new city, and trying to find work, you were left too exhausted to care about dating. There were some objects you had a bit of a flirty relationship with, but it felt more like friendly teasing than actual romantic interest.
Though his hand had dropped to his side, he still held a tight grip on your fingers. With how close you stood to him, you could see how brilliantly his silver eyes shined. If he had been thinking about you with the others in that way, was he really as pure as he claimed to be? Not to mention how he had been the one to grab your hand, to elevate the level of intimacy between you two. You had to fight the smile that threatened to give away your thoughts.
“You know what would make an even bigger scandal?” The question fell out of your mouth before you could even think to stop it. You had always been impulsive, acting before you considered the consequences, and his presence always brought out your worst behavior. It was like a push and pull between the two of you to see who could be more outrageous, more provocative with your words, but pushing things physically had never crossed your mind before. You weren’t sure what you were going to say to him.
“Don’t be a tease, you must tell me!” He leaned even closer into your space, nearly nose to nose if you were to tilt your head back. The proximity made your heart beat a little faster. With how many times he had asked you for a kiss, you doubted he would mind you giving him one unprompted.
The difference, though, was the way your hand found the back of his neck, fingers wandering into the strange texture of his hair. You had been wondering what it felt like, but asking him outright to touch it felt strange. It was wax, but you could still feel the individual strands, soft and pliant while you worked your fingers through them. He seemed to startle at your touch, eyes going wide as his breath hitched in his throat, though he made no move to pull away from you.
“Darling, t-that’s not quite what I thought you meant when you said—” You instantly regretted your decision, worrying you had gravely misread his body language.
“I-I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have done that, I just—” He grabbed your wrist the instant he felt your hand start to pull away, holding it in place. How unexpectedly forward of you, taking advantage of his vulnerabilities with your divine touch. He couldn’t remember how long it had been since anyone really touched him like that. You playing with the wax of his candles didn’t count, it wasn’t intentional, you had no way to know how heavenly it felt. Even this wasn’t real, he knew, just a trick of the Dateviators. How pathetic he was, nearly coming undone from your touch alone. His mask was teetering, and if he weren’t careful it might just—
“Keep going.” His voice was unexpectedly low in your ears, nearly a growl the way it carried from his throat. A gasp accidentally escaped your parted lips as your heart thundered in your chest. You wanted to ask where that had come from, but a voice in your head told you not to let this moment pass. Sinking your fingers deeper into his hair, you hesitated only a moment longer before crashing your lips against his.
This was nothing like the chaste kisses you had shared before, a simple brush of your lips against his. There was no slow build up, no reluctant testing of your lips against his like the first kiss between new lovers. No, there was a desperate hunger between you now, like a tension you had never noticed before had finally snapped. You pushed him back against the table with ease, slipping your hand under his coat to pull him even closer against your body. He was so warm against you, so responsive to your touch, it was frighteningly easy to get absolutely lost in him. It was a surprise when you felt his hand brush the back of your neck, pushing the kiss deeper, frenetic, just as lost in the moment as you were. Giving into the voice that demanded more, you drank him in, the hand in his hair giving a slight tug before you realised what you were doing.
The sweetest whimper dripped from his lips on to yours, breaking you from whatever spell had overcome you as reality rushed back. How could you be so stupid, jeopardizing your friendship like that!
“I’m so sorry, I-I don’t know what came over me!” You took a few quick steps backwards, burying your face in your hands. “I’m so embarrassed, I can’t believe I just did that...”
“You are...embarrassed by kissing your Scandalabra?” The possessive descriptor slipped off his tongue without a second thought. In that moment, he truly felt like yours, like you wanted him as something more than just a friend, but that all came crashing down the moment you pulled away so abruptly. Of course you couldn’t possibly see him that way, he was a right fool to think otherwise. Maybe you had somehow seen under the mask, and you already hated who you found hiding under it.
Your heart broke from how crestfallen he looked. Just as quickly as you had stepped away, you rushed to intertwine your fingers with his. It felt like your head was spinning from so many conflicting feelings, but you would have to sort through them later.
“NO! No, not that, I just mean…” You could feel your cheeks turning scarlet, and you wished you had something, anything to hide behind while you gathered your thoughts. “I should have asked first, if it was okay. You were standing so close to me, it felt like I was supposed to kiss you. Then you were just so warm, and I haven’t kissed anyone in years, and…I’m still mortified I pulled your hair like that, I-I don’t know where that came from, but it’ll never happen again.”
As soon as you were able to stop the flow of your word vomit, you noticed Scandalabra had pulled one of his hands back and was now fanning himself. Any trace of the emotion you had seen earlier was replaced with a wicked smile.
“Oh, my sweet, I’d be positively overjoyed if you were to kiss me just like that again. Perhaps my debauched state would be the biggest scandal this house has ever seen.” A devious giggle punctuated his sentence. He silently applauded himself for his quick thinking, masking the shock he still felt from your confession. Speaking of masks, his had clung on by a thread, he could only hope you didn’t think too deeply about the drop in his voice.
You were flooded with relief to know he wasn’t mad at you, that your relationship was undamaged from your momentary lapse in judgement. He didn’t hate you. Knowing that, the embarrassment started to fade into nervous laughter.
“I suppose I should be ready for the house to be gossiping about us tomorrow.” It made you a little uncomfortable to consider something so personal being dissected by the other gossip-inclined individuals in your home, but that wasn’t enough to make you regret it.
“There wasn’t a single soul to witness our little tryst, though I quite like the idea of being the voyee for once, and a lady would never kiss and tell.” You briefly considered telling him that ‘voyee’ wasn’t a real word, but you weren’t feeling up to a conversation about how dowdy the English language is compared to languages from the other countries he had lived.
“If that were true, then how do I know that you and Celia—”
“No more questions!” He waved you off with a flick of his wrist. “Sometimes...the best scandals are those kept to oneself.” With a final appreciative peck on the lips, you scampered upstairs to your room.
Fuck did he need a cigarette after that. He was still riding the high of your touch, the heat of your mouth, the sweet sting when you pulled his hair…Should he be embarrassed by the sound he made? It felt good. Too good. His mask had already slipped once, there was no way he could keep up the Scandalabra persona if you touched him like that again. He could only be pure and chaste for so long before he broke, and he couldn’t risk that with you. There would be no love ending between you, the thought of you seeing the shameful brand on his lower back, knowing what he had been hiding from you, from everyone…No, you deserved someone better, someone who wasn’t just a loser hiding behind a grandiose persona. It would take some work, but Jon had an idea.
With the Dateviators charging beside your bed, you found yourself tossing and turning, unable to quiet your mind. That drop in Scandalabra’s voice...You were still certain you had seen something different in his face when he kissed your hand. Did you still have more to learn about him? For a brief moment you wondered if he was hiding something from you, if you had seen something you weren’t meant to. That couldn’t be, he could hardly keep gossip to himself long enough for you adjust the glasses onto your face most of the time. You just couldn’t see him keeping a secret from you without bursting at the seams.
The sound he made when you pulled his hair was still fresh in your mind, as was the foreign urge that compelled you to do it in the first place. Even if he did seem to...enjoy it, you were having a hard time escaping your guilt. It wasn’t the fact that you gave in to the unfamiliar voice in your head that told you to push, pull, and bite, it was how much you enjoyed it yourself. He was your friend—a friend you occasionally kissed, sure—but you feared anything further was a gamble your couldn’t take. Draping your arms over your eyes, you sighed. How were you ever going to face him again if that voice were always in the back of your mind?
- - V - -
You started your day by talking with Skylar, curious for more information about Realization. Though the logistics of how it worked went a bit over your head, you listened to her enthusiastically explain everything you needed to know to turn the Objects in your home into living, breathing humans. There were a few barriers still, such as what Skylar called Unfurnished Business, and different aspects of your personality that were admittedly lacking. She assured you that discovering new Objects and building relationships with the ones you already knew was the best way to develop your personality. It still felt like a kick to your ego to know you really were just as inferior as you felt.
Stopping to speak with Gaia for some clues on where yet-undiscovered Objects might be, you gave her an update on those you had spoken to so far. What caught you by surprise was her insistence that Scandalabra wasn’t among the worldly objects she was interested in. Pulling your leg? That couldn’t be. Even explaining to her the number of places he had traveled wasn’t enough to convince her of his imported nature. Gaia was being unusually cryptic about her refusal to acknowledge him as what she was looking for, trying to change the subject back to other Objects who possessed the worldly charm she was looking for.
Scandalabra watched you as you flitted throughout the house, but the length of time you spent with Gaia made him nervous. He had considered jumping in to distract you, or perhaps even spin the globe herself in circles with a circular argument. Thinking better of it, he paced the floor of the dining room, twisting and turning the story he had fed you in his mind in case you came asking him about it later. It felt atrocious to keep lying to you, especially when you seemed closer to the truth every day, but it was the only way to keep his wick from being extinguished by the river of deceit he was drowning in. Maybe if he enacted his plan before you had a chance to question him, you’d forget all about any doubts that clouded your mind. Jonathan, you cad, what a brilliant idea! His pacing came to a sudden stop as you parted ways with Gaia, preparing to push the persona to new extremes.
Still turning Gaia’s words over in your head, you decided to spend some time in a room you had been neglecting – your office. Aside from online shopping, you didn’t have much reason to visit due to your labour limbo. You certainly weren’t expecting there to be so many Objects crammed into the cramped room, but it made your day pass incredibly quickly. So quickly, in fact, that you hadn’t realised you spent the last charge of the glasses on your junk drawer, building the perfect tchotchke for your office.
There was something so magnetically weird about Jerry that immediately put you at ease. Even if you fumbled your words or clacked your teeth against his in a messy kiss, Jerry would simply laugh it off with an archaic exclamation. You certainly hadn’t expected to get physically involved with someone you just met, but he was surprisingly greedy with your affection. With the warnings you had heard from others in the house about him, it was no wonder he was just as touch-starved as you. Time had been of no concern to you until you heard the low-battery chirp from the Dateviators. With a curse under your breath, you pulled out your phone and realised it was nearly midnight already. Apologizing for having to kiss and run, you exited Jerry’s museum before you got to discover where you’d be left once your connection with an animus like his was severed.
Your stomach growled painfully, a reminder that you had skipped two meals while locked away in your office. Shoving the glasses to the top of your head, you let your eyes adjust to the natural colour of your surroundings before padding off to raid your kitchen. You were elbow-deep into the recesses of your fridge, reaching for a container of Japanese curry you were hopeful hadn’t turned, when you felt the distinct sensation of being watched. It wasn’t the general feeling you got anywhere in your house since getting the glasses, this felt much more focused. Jealous, if you had to put an emotion on it.
“I’m out of charges for the night, but let me heat up my dinner and I’ll come sit by you, okay?” You peaked your head out of the fridge to speak towards Scandalabra. Laughing to yourself at how absurd your life had become, you popped the container in the microwave—with a cover, you didn’t want to leave Luke a mess—and lit the candelabra as carefully as always.
Scandalabra held back a gasp. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t feeling rather neglected again, having watched you spend your entire day hidden from his purview when he had expected you to come to him right away, but for you to sense that…Well, he was pouting, now that he noticed, but still! Now that you were right next to him, he could see how disheveled your hair was, your kiss-bruised lips...Why, you had a scandal of your very own! Oh, how he wished he could question you face to face, he needed every single detail immediately!
“It feels a little embarrassing to say now, but...Jerry is a really good kisser.” The sound of the microwave beeping distracted you for a moment before you sat down with your piping hot curry. “I mean, he’s sweet and all, but I didn’t expect him to be so good at that.”
Jerry was...an interesting choice of lover. Nearly as reviled as he was, it made Scandalabra wonder what you saw in him. He was a hoarder that smelled of mildew and mold, with an unhealthy attachment to the items that any sane person would throw out. Scandalabra had once been someone else’s trash, perhaps you found common ground in caring for things that were thoughtlessly discarded, seeing the beauty in them, their potential to become something great. Or, perhaps he was only projecting what he hoped you saw about him. With a wistful sigh, he sat beside you on the table.
“That junk drawer has fumbled into finding your love within his recesses…How positively scandalous, darling!” While he listened to you regale him with all the sordid details of your impromptu rendezvous, he couldn’t help but smile. This had been his plan, to encourage your relations with the others in the house. It admittedly left him with a bit of a knot in his stomach, but that was easy to ignore with how happy you sounded. This was what you deserved, a lover untethered by self-inflicted rules about purity. He was relieved you couldn’t see his face at the moment, you were too clever and knew him too well not to see how conflicted he truly felt.
You were his friend. His only friend. He’d pay any price to keep from ruining that.