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lovely_ambitionTitle: And Then Months Later, Ambrose Retaliates 2/2
Pairing: Ambrose/Cain
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: If I did own them, they'd be pretty angry I did this, huh?
Summary: Cain's one mistake was never letting Ambrose live it down.
Notes: Yes, it's genderswitch, so if that's not your thing, you might want to shy away. This is a sequel to The first story, in which Ambrose was a woman and no one really noticed anything was different. You can find Part One here!![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kseda is a darling for looking this over!
When the night of the celebration came around, Ambrose was a mess of nerves, twitching with frustration and anticipation that never really went anywhere and left him more than a little frustrated with his ‘darling’ significant other. Cain kept doing things that made Ambrose think that maybe she was about to relent and then something would come up.
When Cain had drawn a bath in the tub big enough for two, she had let it fill with sandalwood scent and then had cited at the last minute that she had to go over protocols and Ambrose should just take a bath without her because Cain wouldn’t be back for hours.
When Cain had slipped into bed wearing nothing but one of the button-downs – and Ambrose had realized that there really was nothing underneath – Ambrose thought that was a guarantee of something, but then Cain was asleep in five minutes flat.
And on and on it went to the point that Ambrose felt like he was bound to explode.
DG noticed, but she’d always been a very empathic girl. Ambrose almost hoped she didn’t feel exactly as he did, because that would just be very, very strange. They finally got a chance to talk amidst the bustle of desperate workers putting together the last decorations for the evening. “So, how’s it going?” DG asked, hiding a smirk behind a few flowers native to the Northern Island area.
Ambrose gave her a glare that said the comments were not appreciated.
“This was your idea, remember?” DG reminded him. “You came and asked us and you even played the guilt card on me.”
“I didn’t expect Cain to be so…Cain-like,” Ambrose muttered. “He’s doing this on purpose, I know he is.”
“What is he doing?”
Ambrose sighed and the very sound was melancholy personified. Except he wasn’t so much melancholy as he was completely and utterly beyond frustrated because Cain was a beautiful person and Ambrose was supposed to be allowed to at least kiss her for more than two point four seconds (yes, he had timed it). But every advance was denied, every suggestion was spearheaded, and every look was rebuffed. “He’s being Cain,” Ambrose said, with a glower. “That should be enough to explain it.”
DG just nodded knowingly. “Maybe Cain will let you dance with him at the party?”
Even if Cain was technically a woman now, it was near-impossible to refer to him as anything but a ‘him’. After all, it was Cain. Something about the man defied certain aspects of the world. Gender just happened to be one of them.
“Cain? In a dress?” Ambrose echoed with a snort. “DG, there’s a greater chance of…well, of me taking a mobat as a pet than Cain wearing an actual dress and shoes tonight. No, I bet he’ll lock himself in the room and continue not sleeping with me.”
“I really don’t need to hear things like that,” DG said, mildly uncomfortable as she picked up her flowers and handed one to Ambrose. “Give it to Cain, tell him…her…him, whatever, to open the box we sent up and think about it.”
Ambrose twirled the magnificent orange flower in his hand as he watched DG go and let loose yet another frustrated and disappointed sigh.
He never did go and give the flower to Cain or hint at whatever box DG was talking about. In fact, he just didn’t go back to the suite, not ready to endure yet another rejection or disappointment or to have it rubbed in his face that as a woman, Cain was currently beating Ambrose.
Cain was winning and Ambrose hadn’t even gotten the upper hand once. And he didn’t like that in the least.
Instead, Ambrose spent the day in the company of the Queen as they walked around the gardens and he complimented both her hair (which the girls had turned a shade of golden brown using their magic so that when the light caught her hair, it shimmered magnificently) and her dress (of the finest silks and inks that the O.Z. could produce). They spoke about the seasons and the weather and every time the Queen would gently ask about Ambrose’s love life, he would steer the topic back to political machinations and public opinion, discussing all the various ways the O.Z. had worked to become normal in the annuals since the Eclipse.
Time, however, refused to stop for anyone (even if Ambrose had been trying to concoct a device that would allow time to stop on a nanosecond).
“The celebration is beginning, Ambrose dear,” the Queen murmured, curtsying. “You must join us.”
“But I haven’t changed!” he said with some alarm, staring down at his normal day-to-day wear, the long coat (embellished with flecks of deep burgundy and browns) and a pair of fitted black trousers with his vest and button-down. “And Cain might be there,” he added weakly.
“Are you afraid of your own significant other, Ambrose?” the Queen asked, sounding as though she were about to burst out laughing at any moment.
“Maybe. It’s Cain. Everyone’s a little afraid of him and now he’s so stupidly in control of the stupid situation and won’t even let me do anything! Honestly, it’s like we got married behind my back and he’s withholding things!” The words almost seemed to rush out of Ambrose and by the time he was done, he felt infinitesimally better about the situation, but not great. With another deep breath, Ambrose swallowed his pride and offered his arm to the Queen. He could be mature about this. He could. “I believe there’s a celebration to attend.” She took his arm and they very regally walked into the main ballroom. Ambrose bowed as he delivered the Queen to Ahamo and he wandered off to find a place to sit, perhaps talk to Raw and Kalm – even though both viewers said that being around Ambrose while he was frustrated was a very bad thing, as it rubbed off of him and into them and sent everyone around them into a spiral of a bad mood.
Instead, he found Azkadellia, dressed in the finest of lilac ruffles and with her hair pinned up elegantly, she looked all the part of an innocent young woman. She was tapping out the rhythm of the music with her foot and Ambrose bowed to her as he approached.
He opened his mouth to ask as to whether she was enjoying the party when a glimmer of blue caught Ambrose’s eye and he turned to find a beautiful woman escorting DG across the floor in wide, almost uncontrolled turns and DG’s loud laughter was contagious. “Cain! Stop, no!” she protested, laughing all the while as the other woman dipped her.
“Cain,” Ambrose exhaled, gaping.
Maybe mobats had come to roost in their room and had slid Cain into that dress she was wearing, because she was not only done up, but the hair was clipped in place. When they twirled past Ambrose and Azkadellia again, Cain winked in their direction and all Ambrose could think was ‘winning, more winning’ and knew that he might as well concede defeat already. Ambrose was drifting onto the dance floor and he could hear something like his own voice asking DG if he could have this dance and then suddenly, it was him with one hand clasping Cain’s and his other on Cain’s hips and the turns were much more controlled now as they did their one-two-threes across the floor.
“You did this to spite me,” Ambrose accused and watched the very slow and smug smile cross Cain’s softer features.
“You threw down the challenge,” Cain countered, which was almost the most Cain had spoken to Ambrose since the change. “I was just playing by your rules, sweetheart,” she informed him with a sweet tone to her voice. “You wanted the change, so now I’m proving that you can initiate the battle, but I can still win.”
They were still dancing easily and Ambrose had started to press light kisses to Cain’s neck and down the shoulder until the straps of the dress forced him to backtrack and kiss his way back up. “Do you ever think it isn’t very healthy of us to look at everything in our relationship as a game someone has to win?”
“It’s crossed my mind.”
They eased close with the dancing and Ambrose’s hand slowly slid around to the small of Cain’s back. “I’m sorry I did this.”
“I’m sorry I’ve been playing like I have,” Cain admitted, but she was still smiling yet. “I don’t think you’ve taken this many cold showers in the whole time we’ve been together.” Those words were accompanied by a genuine laugh, which earned a glare from Ambrose. Which somehow provoked a kiss from Cain, so maybe the glaring had some higher purpose after all. Ambrose came away from the kiss with the tiniest of perspective and he began to laugh, leaning his cheek to the top of Cain’s head and sliding in close.
“The girls are undoing it tomorrow,” he promised, the hand on Cain’s back sliding up just enough to touch bare skin, and then slid back down again to hover around Cain’s ass. “And I have to say, you looked good wearing what you normally do.”
“I know.”
“I know you know that.”
“Well, that’s why you’re dating me,” Cain said, very simply and spun them so that Cain was the one dipping Ambrose and not the other way around. Cain peered down at Ambrose and smiled, the angle of the bemusement altered by Ambrose’s perception. Cain slowly slid Ambrose back up to his normal stance and slid off his jacket to wrap around her shoulders. “I hate the dress.”
“I know you do,” Ambrose sympathized. “You really wore it just to get back at me.”
“That and I danced with just about every man and woman here. You were late.”
“Every woman?” Ambrose clarified, eyes flitting about the room to take in the noble ladies and the dresses and started to imagine Cain pressed up against them. “Are you still torturing me?”
“A little.”
“Can we stop with the torturing now and just go sleep?” Ambrose begged, not even having anything else but sleep in his mind. Maybe Cain would actually let them do something, but he wasn’t about to hold his breath, because if he did, he might go blue and asphyxiate.
Cain leaned in and whispered a string of very pleasing words into Ambrose’s ear, ones that almost made up for the rest of all the frustration and the near-torture.
Ambrose’s eyes widened and he nodded eagerly. “Please,” he half-spat out, half-begged. “Gods, Cain, yes. Gods, yes.”
They weren’t seen by any of the partygoers after Ambrose dragged Cain off the dance floor with a hand and they went not up to the rooms, but out the front doors.
*
When Cain woke up, the too-loose shirt that was usually worn was now just-right and the boxers borrowed from Ambrose were splitting at the seams. Ambrose rolled over, tossed an arm over Cain’s hips and tugged him closer. “I’ll go thank the girls when I’m conscious,” Ambrose mumbled, breathing heavy and hot against Cain’s chest as he fell back to sleep.
“Hey, Ambrose,” Cain murmured, grabbing a pillow to fortify behind his head.
“Mmf?”
“You won.”
“…exactly how did I…”
“I’ll explain later, go back to sleep.”
He didn’t need much more than that before he gave in to his exhaustion.
THE END
Pairing: Ambrose/Cain
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: If I did own them, they'd be pretty angry I did this, huh?
Summary: Cain's one mistake was never letting Ambrose live it down.
Notes: Yes, it's genderswitch, so if that's not your thing, you might want to shy away. This is a sequel to The first story, in which Ambrose was a woman and no one really noticed anything was different. You can find Part One here!
kseda is a darling for looking this over!When the night of the celebration came around, Ambrose was a mess of nerves, twitching with frustration and anticipation that never really went anywhere and left him more than a little frustrated with his ‘darling’ significant other. Cain kept doing things that made Ambrose think that maybe she was about to relent and then something would come up.
When Cain had drawn a bath in the tub big enough for two, she had let it fill with sandalwood scent and then had cited at the last minute that she had to go over protocols and Ambrose should just take a bath without her because Cain wouldn’t be back for hours.
When Cain had slipped into bed wearing nothing but one of the button-downs – and Ambrose had realized that there really was nothing underneath – Ambrose thought that was a guarantee of something, but then Cain was asleep in five minutes flat.
And on and on it went to the point that Ambrose felt like he was bound to explode.
DG noticed, but she’d always been a very empathic girl. Ambrose almost hoped she didn’t feel exactly as he did, because that would just be very, very strange. They finally got a chance to talk amidst the bustle of desperate workers putting together the last decorations for the evening. “So, how’s it going?” DG asked, hiding a smirk behind a few flowers native to the Northern Island area.
Ambrose gave her a glare that said the comments were not appreciated.
“This was your idea, remember?” DG reminded him. “You came and asked us and you even played the guilt card on me.”
“I didn’t expect Cain to be so…Cain-like,” Ambrose muttered. “He’s doing this on purpose, I know he is.”
“What is he doing?”
Ambrose sighed and the very sound was melancholy personified. Except he wasn’t so much melancholy as he was completely and utterly beyond frustrated because Cain was a beautiful person and Ambrose was supposed to be allowed to at least kiss her for more than two point four seconds (yes, he had timed it). But every advance was denied, every suggestion was spearheaded, and every look was rebuffed. “He’s being Cain,” Ambrose said, with a glower. “That should be enough to explain it.”
DG just nodded knowingly. “Maybe Cain will let you dance with him at the party?”
Even if Cain was technically a woman now, it was near-impossible to refer to him as anything but a ‘him’. After all, it was Cain. Something about the man defied certain aspects of the world. Gender just happened to be one of them.
“Cain? In a dress?” Ambrose echoed with a snort. “DG, there’s a greater chance of…well, of me taking a mobat as a pet than Cain wearing an actual dress and shoes tonight. No, I bet he’ll lock himself in the room and continue not sleeping with me.”
“I really don’t need to hear things like that,” DG said, mildly uncomfortable as she picked up her flowers and handed one to Ambrose. “Give it to Cain, tell him…her…him, whatever, to open the box we sent up and think about it.”
Ambrose twirled the magnificent orange flower in his hand as he watched DG go and let loose yet another frustrated and disappointed sigh.
He never did go and give the flower to Cain or hint at whatever box DG was talking about. In fact, he just didn’t go back to the suite, not ready to endure yet another rejection or disappointment or to have it rubbed in his face that as a woman, Cain was currently beating Ambrose.
Cain was winning and Ambrose hadn’t even gotten the upper hand once. And he didn’t like that in the least.
Instead, Ambrose spent the day in the company of the Queen as they walked around the gardens and he complimented both her hair (which the girls had turned a shade of golden brown using their magic so that when the light caught her hair, it shimmered magnificently) and her dress (of the finest silks and inks that the O.Z. could produce). They spoke about the seasons and the weather and every time the Queen would gently ask about Ambrose’s love life, he would steer the topic back to political machinations and public opinion, discussing all the various ways the O.Z. had worked to become normal in the annuals since the Eclipse.
Time, however, refused to stop for anyone (even if Ambrose had been trying to concoct a device that would allow time to stop on a nanosecond).
“The celebration is beginning, Ambrose dear,” the Queen murmured, curtsying. “You must join us.”
“But I haven’t changed!” he said with some alarm, staring down at his normal day-to-day wear, the long coat (embellished with flecks of deep burgundy and browns) and a pair of fitted black trousers with his vest and button-down. “And Cain might be there,” he added weakly.
“Are you afraid of your own significant other, Ambrose?” the Queen asked, sounding as though she were about to burst out laughing at any moment.
“Maybe. It’s Cain. Everyone’s a little afraid of him and now he’s so stupidly in control of the stupid situation and won’t even let me do anything! Honestly, it’s like we got married behind my back and he’s withholding things!” The words almost seemed to rush out of Ambrose and by the time he was done, he felt infinitesimally better about the situation, but not great. With another deep breath, Ambrose swallowed his pride and offered his arm to the Queen. He could be mature about this. He could. “I believe there’s a celebration to attend.” She took his arm and they very regally walked into the main ballroom. Ambrose bowed as he delivered the Queen to Ahamo and he wandered off to find a place to sit, perhaps talk to Raw and Kalm – even though both viewers said that being around Ambrose while he was frustrated was a very bad thing, as it rubbed off of him and into them and sent everyone around them into a spiral of a bad mood.
Instead, he found Azkadellia, dressed in the finest of lilac ruffles and with her hair pinned up elegantly, she looked all the part of an innocent young woman. She was tapping out the rhythm of the music with her foot and Ambrose bowed to her as he approached.
He opened his mouth to ask as to whether she was enjoying the party when a glimmer of blue caught Ambrose’s eye and he turned to find a beautiful woman escorting DG across the floor in wide, almost uncontrolled turns and DG’s loud laughter was contagious. “Cain! Stop, no!” she protested, laughing all the while as the other woman dipped her.
“Cain,” Ambrose exhaled, gaping.
Maybe mobats had come to roost in their room and had slid Cain into that dress she was wearing, because she was not only done up, but the hair was clipped in place. When they twirled past Ambrose and Azkadellia again, Cain winked in their direction and all Ambrose could think was ‘winning, more winning’ and knew that he might as well concede defeat already. Ambrose was drifting onto the dance floor and he could hear something like his own voice asking DG if he could have this dance and then suddenly, it was him with one hand clasping Cain’s and his other on Cain’s hips and the turns were much more controlled now as they did their one-two-threes across the floor.
“You did this to spite me,” Ambrose accused and watched the very slow and smug smile cross Cain’s softer features.
“You threw down the challenge,” Cain countered, which was almost the most Cain had spoken to Ambrose since the change. “I was just playing by your rules, sweetheart,” she informed him with a sweet tone to her voice. “You wanted the change, so now I’m proving that you can initiate the battle, but I can still win.”
They were still dancing easily and Ambrose had started to press light kisses to Cain’s neck and down the shoulder until the straps of the dress forced him to backtrack and kiss his way back up. “Do you ever think it isn’t very healthy of us to look at everything in our relationship as a game someone has to win?”
“It’s crossed my mind.”
They eased close with the dancing and Ambrose’s hand slowly slid around to the small of Cain’s back. “I’m sorry I did this.”
“I’m sorry I’ve been playing like I have,” Cain admitted, but she was still smiling yet. “I don’t think you’ve taken this many cold showers in the whole time we’ve been together.” Those words were accompanied by a genuine laugh, which earned a glare from Ambrose. Which somehow provoked a kiss from Cain, so maybe the glaring had some higher purpose after all. Ambrose came away from the kiss with the tiniest of perspective and he began to laugh, leaning his cheek to the top of Cain’s head and sliding in close.
“The girls are undoing it tomorrow,” he promised, the hand on Cain’s back sliding up just enough to touch bare skin, and then slid back down again to hover around Cain’s ass. “And I have to say, you looked good wearing what you normally do.”
“I know.”
“I know you know that.”
“Well, that’s why you’re dating me,” Cain said, very simply and spun them so that Cain was the one dipping Ambrose and not the other way around. Cain peered down at Ambrose and smiled, the angle of the bemusement altered by Ambrose’s perception. Cain slowly slid Ambrose back up to his normal stance and slid off his jacket to wrap around her shoulders. “I hate the dress.”
“I know you do,” Ambrose sympathized. “You really wore it just to get back at me.”
“That and I danced with just about every man and woman here. You were late.”
“Every woman?” Ambrose clarified, eyes flitting about the room to take in the noble ladies and the dresses and started to imagine Cain pressed up against them. “Are you still torturing me?”
“A little.”
“Can we stop with the torturing now and just go sleep?” Ambrose begged, not even having anything else but sleep in his mind. Maybe Cain would actually let them do something, but he wasn’t about to hold his breath, because if he did, he might go blue and asphyxiate.
Cain leaned in and whispered a string of very pleasing words into Ambrose’s ear, ones that almost made up for the rest of all the frustration and the near-torture.
Ambrose’s eyes widened and he nodded eagerly. “Please,” he half-spat out, half-begged. “Gods, Cain, yes. Gods, yes.”
They weren’t seen by any of the partygoers after Ambrose dragged Cain off the dance floor with a hand and they went not up to the rooms, but out the front doors.
*
When Cain woke up, the too-loose shirt that was usually worn was now just-right and the boxers borrowed from Ambrose were splitting at the seams. Ambrose rolled over, tossed an arm over Cain’s hips and tugged him closer. “I’ll go thank the girls when I’m conscious,” Ambrose mumbled, breathing heavy and hot against Cain’s chest as he fell back to sleep.
“Hey, Ambrose,” Cain murmured, grabbing a pillow to fortify behind his head.
“Mmf?”
“You won.”
“…exactly how did I…”
“I’ll explain later, go back to sleep.”
He didn’t need much more than that before he gave in to his exhaustion.
THE END
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This was one of those times when I really truly did laugh out loud. I love your Ambrose. And Cain!
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Basically, Ambrose did GOOD by the sexings.