"James," Lazarus whined, drawing the name out the way a child might as he walked in through the door.
"Mmm...?" he looked up from the piano score before him.
"I don't like reading anymore."
"And I don't like attempting to decipher your stupid scrawling," he laughed, throwing the score across the table towards him. Catching it, Lazarus laughed too.
"What d'you mean? It's not a scrawl. It's called music."
"Same thing!" Lazarus cuffed him around the back of the head as he walked past.
"Don't insult my music!" they both laughed and James turned to face Lazarus, who sat on the edge of the bed, pulling off his leather boots and throwing them into the corner of the room near the wash basin.
"I wasn't. I was insulting the way you write it down," he grinned, rising from his chair and pushing Lazarus down on the bed. His eyes flashed playfully as he gave Lazarus a quick, teasing kiss, holding him down on the rough blanket.
Lazarus was about to kiss back when there was a knock on the door, and the both of them froze for a moment, the thrill of fear shivering through them. James climbed off his lover and went to answer the door.
"Hey," Annabelle's voice floated into the room on the breeze, "is my pest of a little brother in?"
"I'm not a pest!" Lazarus protested, pushing himself up so he was sitting. James stood back with a smile and let her in. "What have I done to deserve this, then?" he put on a sullen voice, pouting as she sat down at the table where James had been sat only moments ago.
"What little brother doesn't deserve being called a pest?" she smirked.
"You wound me with your cruel, cruel words," Lazarus cried, putting his hand over his heart, trying not to smile.
"You little drama queen," she laughed, "you should be in theatre, not music."
"Aye. Maybe, but then I'd never see him," James said, sitting on the bed beside Lazarus, though he left a gap between them. Rolling his eyes, Lazarus shuffled up and put his arms around James, cuddling up to him. Annabelle smiled slightly - the expression had lost its awkwardness long ago; it was only James that seemed to have trouble adjusting to the idea of being open about their relationship. At least in front of Annabelle. No one else could know after all.
After a moment, he returned the hug, putting his arms around Lazarus, loosely at first, then firmer. Lazarus grinned.
"I see I didn't really need to come and check up on you two, then," Annabelle said with a laugh, "just please don't ever let yourselves get caught. I'm not about to let my little brother go the same way as my older brother for his crimes."
"I'll take care of him," James promised. Annabelle covered her mouth, biting back a laugh. "What? Don't you think I can?"
"Oh, it's not that. It's just so strange that two boys that I've known all their lives are lovers, living together, promising to take care of each other. Sorry," she smiled.
"There won't be any need, anyways," Lazarus laughed, "I'm gonna live forever," James and Annabelle laughed too at his ridiculous claim.
"Annabelle!" A voice outside roared, cutting off the laughter. Lazarus froze and pushed James off him, hurriedly sitting on the piano stool away from him. He ignored the confused look from James as his father stomped in. "You know I hate it when you wander off like that. Get back home. Now."
"Sorry, dad," she mumbled, standing up, "I'll see you boys later," she managed a weak smile before she was dragged away again.
"He ignored you altogether this time," James muttered, shocked by the rejection he had witnessed. Lazarus just shrugged.
"He thinks I've pushed him back into the poverty I dragged him out of. I don't blame him for resenting me, but I don't want nothin' to do with him no more," he grumbled his way through the short explanation and James thought twice about mentioning it again.
"What're you doing over there? Get your ass back over here!" Lazarus smiled and obliged, crawling back onto the bed, curling up on his side. James laid down with him, putting his arms around his lover, quietly enjoying the way Lazarus snuggled up close and shut his eyes with a small smile. "So. You're gonna live forever, eh?" His smiled grew a little and he nodded. "You better not leave me behind in your immortality."
"Oh, no. I was planning on taking you with me. We'll see everything; inventions and people becoming famous and other people looking back and studying them in lessons of history."
"That's a grand old plan you've got there," he murmured, though he was curious to know exactly how Lazarus was planning on living forever.
"Mmm... if only it would come true," Lazarus sighed, "it's less of a plan than a wish."