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WHO: Dorian Gray & Yuri Petrov
WHERE: Yuri's pad
WHEN: Sunday morning!
WHAT: thanks to the combined efforts of many people, Dorian made bail. And...decides to bug Yuri right as he's planning murderpalooza. Whoops.
WARNINGS: this will end badly no matter what

Somehow, Dorian had managed to get Yuri's apartment number, whether it was pestering Yuri until he got it, charming the information out of Yuri's neighbors, or just being a sneaky little shit himself. And so, he was putting this information to great use...by showing up at Yuri's apartment, unannounced, with a package of store-bought bakery cinnamon rolls under his arm.

It was the least he could do. After all, the great quest of paying back Yuri, Kate, Loki, Anita, Kenzi, Winry and probably others that Dorian was forgetting (except Matt. fuck Matt.) as well as worming his way back into people's good consciousnesses was just starting. And what better way to get on Yuri's good side than to let his guard down as much as he could, let the man do what he wanted while taking control if needed, being relatively good despite the fact that he was oh so bad.

Unfortunately, relatively good doesn't mean relatively smart. So despite the fact that it's a Sunday morning and Dorian didn't even call over to begin with, Dorian rang the doorbell to Yuri's apartment, standing outside and quickly putting an expression that was equal parts happiness, equal parts penitence on his face.

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A guest was the last thing Yuri expected to find upon his doorstep early Sunday morning. For reasons unbeknownst to anyone but him, he had been very cautious about keeping his schedule clear, and that narrowed down the list of possible visitors considerably.

Dressing quickly in a pale blue button-down, a black three-quarter length sleeve pullover (his imPort tattoo concealed by a stylish wide-band watch and miscellaneous beaded bracelets) and a pair of soft gray jeans, he made his way from his bedroom to his front door while tying still-damp hair back out of the way. Probably, the person calling on him would be Kotetsu, come to make a nuisance of himself, or even Jayden, who required less of a reason than the veteran Hero to come and visit. Both were among the very select few who knew where he lived, after all...but then, it wasn't likely that either one would be caught out of bed this early on a weekend.

That didn't leave very many other people to choose from, and as Yuri opened his front door, the last person he expected to see stood before him, a person he ought to have considered...but must have forgotten about in the midst of all his other plans.

Dorian Gray.

Pushing aside the protective gate of the elevator that admitted visitors directly into his apartment, Yuri stepped out of the way and made room for the younger looking man. "Good morning, Dorian. You...look well." Rather obviously (and much to his chagrin) he was caught off guard by Dorian's unannounced visit. More irritating still was the sickly sweet scent of warm cinnamon wafting into the entryway. Yuri had a weakness for sweets, and it was a weakness he did not want to let Dorian exploit, especially not now of all times.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" The latter word used quite loosely.

Dorian was dressed casually--or, at least, casually for him. So in all honesty, Dorian was dressed to give off the aura of casualness. His slacks weren't too formal but they still fit perfectly. His shoes were spotless. His shirt was a light blue oxford under a slate gray sweater, sleeves rolled up, the top button of the oxford unbuttoned in a deliberate attempt to cultivate that sense of casualness he was trying so hard to cultivate.

And Yuri was obviously caught off guard. Wonderful.

"It's a celebration," Dorian remarked, wry smile on his face, as he held up the package of cinnamon rolls. "Guess who's finally out of jail and wants to help repay you for what you've done?" The answer was obvious, it was Dorian himself. He put on a smile that was apologetic, something sweet to match the cinnamon rolls themselves. "I figured that bringing you breakfast was a wonderful way to start."

And then, before Yuri could protest, Dorian leaned over to the man, in an attempt to give him a quick peck on the lips. It never entered Dorian's mind that Yuri might not want to see him, that he might have come at an inconvenient time. Of course Yuri wanted to see him. Didn't everybody?

"A celebration?" Dorian's answer did little to clarify things. "Don't those usually require planning?"

Not to mention invitations, which obviously had not been given. As with most things, of course, Dorian appeared to have taken liberties with that. He had clearly learned nothing from his stay in jail...which was precisely what Kate Bishop had predicted would be the result.

Yuri's gaze fell upon the box as it was lifted, then rose to catch the younger looking man's apologetic smile. He was not convinced by it, but said despite the fact, "You didn't need to thank me, really. It was the least I could..."

The words died abruptly on his lips, not because Dorian's managed to reach his own, but because Yuri realized rather quickly what the other man was about to do by his body language and he turned away, the act of doing so cleverly disguised by his immediate closing of the apartment door.

"Anyway, come in. At the end, if you turn to your left, you will find the dining area. We can eat there." Until he figured out a way to shoo Dorian out of his apartment.

As the kiss was denied, Dorian briefly sank into a small pout, making his displeasure obvious. Still, he couldn't stay sulky too long. For one, it didn't suit him. And secondly, he couldn't spend all his time sulking, not when he was here, he was out of jail, and he was with his Yuri. There would be plenty of time for more fun later.

Almost lazily, Dorian started to walk over towards the dining area, eyes scanning the rest of the apartment as he did so. Dorian couldn't lie: it was nice. Of course, his current living arrangements had some perks (namely Dio) but wouldn't it be nice just to imagine having a place of his own, that he could design and arrange however he wanted? Where he didn't have to worry about one-night stands running into his preteen flatmate...the more he thought about that idea, the more Dorian had to admit, he liked it.

"Celebrations don't have to be planned," Dorian remarked, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "A celebration can be something as simple as two very close friends gathering together for breakfast." He walked towards the table and set the cinnamon rolls down on top. Opening the box, Dorian took one out and, carefully holding it between two fingers, walked over to Yuri, waving the cinnamon roll in an enticing manner, partly to get his attention, partly to be a troublesome little shit.

"Besides, I'll be thanking you until the end of my life." No, no he wouldn't. But Yuri didn't need to know that much about him just yet (but eventually? Maybe.) "What better way to start than getting you some delicious breakfast?"

Dorian's displeasure was swiftly ignored, a task made all the easier by the quick rate at which he seemed to bounce back. Yuri was not certain he should be grateful for that, not entirely, but for now it was better than the alternative; he was unquestionably sure that he did not have the required skill set for dealing with emotionally distraught young men, nor did he want to even attempt it.

"They don't, but it is usually better if they are, lest one encounter other unwelcome surprises along the way," Yuri explained as he followed Dorian into the dining area. As the other man came towards him with a cinnamon roll in hand, he frowned. "For example...I was preparing to head out. Not to have crumbs dropped on my floor."

Or sticky fingers practically shoved in his face.

It was difficult to remain cross on an empty stomach, however. His frown fading, Yuri started around Dorian and toward the kitchen doorway.

"You're here now, though." Not much to be done about that, not yet at least. "Say no more about thanking me, please. And...excuse me a moment while I will get us some plates and napkins. Did you want anything to drink?"

"You can be late," Dorian remarked, wry little smile on his face. "If you're meeting someone, there can always be excuses. Something came up, traffic was miserable, I couldn't find this one thing, I overslept..." Thankfully, Dorian stopped his litany of listing off excuses by taking a bite of the cinnamon roll in his hands. Traces of the icing clung to his lips as he chewed and swallowed.

Of course, the intent could easily be read in his words. You can be late and make excuses and spend more time with me.

But he had to say, Yuri telling him not to thank him? A relief. It was like a small weight had been kicked off of Dorian's stomach. He could thank people, of course, but his thanks was empty words, words struggling to hold a sense of gratitude and seriousness that the moment called for. He knew that if anyone could see through them, Yuri could.

"I'd like some milk, if you've got any," Dorian chimed in, before taking another bite out of the cinnamon roll in his hands. He leaned against Yuri's table as he ate, seemingly paying no attention to the fact that there were chairs he could sit in instead.

If Yuri had planned to meet anyone, such excuses would work, but he'd planned on taking certain articles to certain cities in preparation for carrying out certain duties yet to come. That wasn't something he could put off, not for very long. He couldn't be caught rushing around too late into the day or people might suspect he was up to something...

Though the idea of being stuck in his apartment with Dorian for any period of time was almost worse when he thought about it. And he was trying very hard not to think about it at all, particularly if it meant looking at the other man when sugary icing frosted his lips. Did he have no manners at all?

"I dislike being late to anything, I'm afraid. Fortunately for you, my commitments are only to myself." Points for honesty? Not that he wanted to win Dorian's favor, though perhaps doing so would make the other man more acquiescent to leaving him in peace in a timely fashion.

He left and, but a few minutes later, returned with two small plates, some napkins, and two small glasses filled with milk balanced carefully in both hands. Setting everything down was more difficult, but Yuri had years of practice having spent most of his life looking after his mentally ill mother. Without looking directly at Dorian, he took note of where the man was standing and chose to sit opposite him, on the other side of the table.

"So, tell me, have you found work yet?" Impersonal conversation was better, Yuri decided. Work was a safe topic. Very safe.

As Yuri set the items down and moved to the other side of the table, Dorian pulled a chair out and sat down, facing Yuri. He grabbed one of the plates and set down his half-eaten cinnamon roll on it. Facing Yuri, Dorian licked his lips as he smiled coyly, a calculated move, both to get the icing off of his lips and also an attempt at something remotely sensual.

And then Yuri had to go and ruin it all by asking about work. The coy smile on Dorian's face instantly faded into a comical pout. "I've been asking around but again, the ex-con aspect is a bit of a problem." Which was an understatement. He had absolutely no idea what the hell he was going to do for a job. The allowance the government gave them was good for food, but not much else...and Dorian knew that it could be cut off at any moment. Who would the government disown first? The criminals.

He grumpily took another bite of his cinnamon roll, slouching slightly in the chair to show his displeasure.

Dorian's calculated flirtations were met with an unruffled stare and a napkin that was held out toward him between Yuri's index and middle fingers. The judge did not allow his gaze to linger, not on Dorian's pink tongue as it swept across his lips chasing glistening crystals of sugar, or upon his mouth at all. He was not thinking about how those lips might taste glazed as they were—he wasn't.

Which subsequently had nothing at all to do with why he had yet to touch his own cinnamon roll.

"I thought you were going to pursue art, Dorian?" Yuri asked. He hadn't been lying when he'd hinted that Dorian's brush with the law oughtn't harm his ability to sell his paintings. In fact, now that he knew a little bit more about the origins of Dorian's name (or Dorian himself, perhaps?), Yuri would wager that his infamy would actually better the other man's sales. Art appreciators had such a skewed idea of what made a piece truly valuable...

Taking the napkin, Dorian politely wiped the rest of the sugar off of his mouth, before spreading the napkin out on his lap. If Yuri was going to give him a stare like that, fine. He could behave himself for now...for a little bit...until he got bored.

"The problem with pursuing art is that you need supplies. And in order to get supplies, you need money." And in order to get money, you needed a job. It was a vicious cycle that Dorian had found himself smack-dab in the middle of. Of course, he had enough money to help get himself started--he had bought a canvas and bought some paints, but if he wanted to make a career out of this, he needed more supplies, more connections, and more opportunities. After all, while Dorian planned to coast on his status as an imPort, an ex-con and as Dorian Gray somewhat, he couldn't entirely rely on all three of those.

"Of course, inspiration is always another problem." Turning towards Yuri, he smiled. "Care to sit for a portrait painting?" It was said half-jokingly but half seriously. Why not? Yuri was attractive, he was somebody Dorian knew, and a portrait painting meant that he got to spend more time with Yuri. That was what mattered in the end, right?

Yuri was beginning to think Dorian would always be in need of something, that it was the core of his being and that money, at least for now, was but one of the many things he would take from others gladly if it was given. Of course, Yuri had already given enough, hadn't he? Helping get the man out of jail...surely Dorian wouldn't expect more than that from him.

"Start small, Dorian. You needn't dive headfirst into everything. In particular, areas that will shape your future should be planned carefully, not with wild abandon." Which was sure to be a completely alien concept to the ex-con, Yuri thought.

Though that thought wasn't allowed the time to linger, for Dorian's followup question pointed his mind in a different direction. Turning the right side of his face away (though he was not precisely aware that he was doing so), Yuri studied Dorian out of the corner of his vision for just a moment before he transferred his gaze to the view beyond the balcony doors on the far side of the living area. He did not want to see himself painted upon a canvas. Portraits were too revealing, and even if Dorian did not see the scars he hid, the truth might still show elsewhere.

"I think you would do better to find another to sit for you. I am often too busy for such things, besides." A pause, and then in an attempt to remove himself from Dorian's focus, he added, "What about Ms. Bishop? You two are close, and I think that she might like to see you doing something honest."

Indeed it was a pretty alien concept. Planning...he could plan things. And he had some experience. But he knew he wouldn't like it and he knew that he'd have trouble sticking to it. So, trying to find something different that he didn't have to plan out it was.

Though Yuri's reaction to Dorian's question was...interesting. Dorian took a bite out of his cinnamon roll, watching Yuri as he turned his face away, looking at the living area. That wasn't the reaction of someone who was just too busy. That was the reaction of someone who was averse to a self-portrait. The question of the hour was, why? Something in his past? A personal matter, either about paintings or about Yuri himself? Or was he averse to Dorian painting the picture? Needless to say, this matter deserved probing...which Dorian was pretty certain wouldn't happen. Yuri tended to be resistant to those sort of probing questions, at least in Dorian's experience.

As he mentioned Kate, Dorian couldn't help but shrug. "Maybe. I think she'd be too busy though as well." Besides, what the hell would Kate want with a self-portrait? At least with Yuri, he could see it fitting the aesthetic he had going on, but Kate? Maybe? Maybe not? "Of course, knowing most imPorts, I think a lot of us would fall into the too busy category."

Yuri was definitely averse to Dorian himself painting the picture—in more ways than one, the younger looking man had proven that he had an eye for detail. Of course, that was not precisely what troubled Yuri the most about Dorian being the artist of any portrait of him, it was instead the idea that Dorian might see something he could use as leverage, a point with which to pry even further into matters that did not concern him, and into Yuri's life overall.

Yuri would much rather be the one prying. It was his right, after all. And his duty.

At last, he broke a piece of his cinnamon roll off and pushed it past his lips and into his mouth. The sweetness was a much needed contrast to the bitterness that had invaded his thoughts thanks to Dorian's question, and he savored the distraction for a few moments before swallowing, allowing the sugar to dissolve on his tongue.

After a sip of his milk, he asked, "Why not civilians, in that case? Or scenery. You might paint a landscape and dedicate it as an apology to the bank you robbed. Though," Yuri picked at his roll once more, pulling a piece away from the main body. "That would be quite insincere, don't you agree? You don't feel at all bad about what you did, do you?"

This was a tough spot. Truly, Dorian didn't feel regret at all--the only regret he felt was that he got caught and had to spend two months alone with his thoughts, dwelling on the past, trying to find ways to distract himself. But there was no way on Earth he would tell Yuri that. He knew how selfish and childish that would make him look. But again, if he lied to Yuri, the other man would see through it instantly.

There was no way that Dorian could come out of that question unscathed. So, he came up with a different tactic: stalling.

"There's no way to answer that question and maintain my dignity, you know," said with a joking little smile. "Because I've got a feeling that, no matter my answer, your thoughts about it all will remain the same."

Dorian was right, although even stalling was unsatisfactory in Yuri's eyes, and rightfully so. The judge recognized the act for what it was, though in the end, it was also confirmation of a sort, wasn't it? Otherwise, Dorian would simply have been able to say he felt full of regret (whether or not Yuri believed him being beside the point).

"You presume to know what I think about your actions?" he asked, finding the direction their conversation was taking now to be significantly more to his liking. It was familiar territory, after all, and allowed him (what he felt was) the upper hand, something with which to smile about at last, though one could not call the smile he wore kind by any means. Cold and challenging, perhaps, but not kind.

"Of course I presume. Didn't we go over this before? We're more alike than you seem to realize." At least, in Dorian's mind, according to what he knew, they were more alike than Yuri seemed to realize. Reality wasn't aligning up quite as nicely.

That cold smile though...it was a bit unexpected. So Dorian responded with a quizzical frown. Was he really that annoyed at being imposed upon? Dorian brought breakfast, how could Yuri be so annoyed at him?

"Anyway, I please the fifth on your question. Isn't that the American expression?"

"We're really not," Yuri answered simply, and even if there were similarities between them, he was determined to ignore the fact that they existed. Of course, when Dorian frowned the way he did, Yuri realized that he might be undoing all the work he'd put into gaining Dorian's trust so far. That wouldn't help him at all in discovering what sort of man the other truly was—he could be cold, but not the kind of cold that was biting. Dorian might flee somewhere warmer then, and his secrets along with him.

So Yuri switched gears. He glanced down at the piece of cinnamon roll he held between his fingers before holding it out for Dorian. A peace offering.

"I believe you mean plead the fifth," Yuri added, the edges of his smile softening. He gave a nod to his offering and added, "And you should know, if only for the record...I like that you're different, Dorian. That makes you more interesting to me. A lot more interesting."

That did the trick. As Yuri's smile softened, Dorian's only grew. Taking the piece of the cinnamon roll, he popped it in his mouth, chewing and swallowing. And oh. Plead the fifth. Dorian winced, sheepish expression on his face as he swallowed the cinnamon roll. Still, his little goof-up seems to have endeared Yuri to him. All the better, in Dorian's mind.

"Well, if I can be anything in the world, I strive to be interesting," said with a small little smirk. After all, Dorian hated boring. Heaven forbid if he was ever boring himself.

"You are," Yuri assured. "So interesting, in fact...that I must confess to having done some homework."

He wiped his hand upon his napkin before he rose from his chair. With a gesture of his hand—wait here just a moment, Dorian, I have something to show you—Yuri excused himself and entered the bedroom just off the living area. The door was, of course, shut behind him to prevent Dorian from seeing inside, not that Yuri was long within. But a few moments later he returned with something held behind his back. He did not present it until he stood before Dorian, and when he held it out...

It was a book.

"I found this after our last discussion," Yuri explained. The hardcover was worn, as expected of an early edition, but the print upon it still read like new: The Picture of Dorian Gray.

Dorian leant forward as Yuri rises from the chair. As he leaves, Dorian (to his credit) remained in the chair, instead finishing off the final touches of his cinnamon roll. He was about to hop up and go bother Yuri when the other man re-entered the room, something in his hands. Like a child trying to figure out what their Christmas present is before it's opened, Dorian peered around, trying to see if he could catch a glimpse of what Yuri was holding.

As soon as he saw the title, though, Dorian couldn't help but let out a small laugh, as he shook his head with a grin on his face. Oscar's book. Of course Yuri would be curious, of course he would search out the book that Oscar wrote about him, the book that Dorian had been claiming as the origin of his name in order to stave off any particular questions. How wonderful.

"Have you read it yet? You've got to tell me what you think." Partly as a book critique, partly because he honestly was curious. He wasn't entirely like the Dorian that Oscar wrote, the Dorian who Oscar killed in text, claiming it as a mercy. But he was close enough that similarities were obvious.

To Dorian's credit again, Yuri was very close to laughing when the other man tried to peer curiously around him. Indeed, the Dorian who sat before him demonstrated many of the same characteristics as the Dorian from Oscar Wilde's most famous piece of literature. Both men were without physical flaw, were mischievous and charming and, as Dorian had just proven, insatiably curious about all things related to them—a touch egocentric, that, although really, it was almost too childish in nature to claim as a fault of any kind.

As Yuri lay the book upon the table with care, he tapped a long finger against its cover in contemplation. "I read it—more than once—but I have always read quickly, especially when I find the material to be of importance to me." Let Dorian make of that what he wished. And as for what he thought of the book, well... "As expected of any work belong to Wilde, it was inordinately descriptive. Not the sort of fiction I usually read, in fact. But it was a fascinating exploration of moral ambiguity and consequence."

Naturally, Yuri had found the part about consequence to be the most relevant to him, but overall, The Picture of Dorian Gray was significant, and if he was not mistaken, the best look so far that he'd had into what he might expect from this Dorian.

"I'd be interested in hearing what you make of it," he said as he took a seat once more, and this time he sat closer to the other man, taking up a place at the end of the table, the book between them.

What he made of it...now this was the question. The answer in reality was that he viewed it in a purely nostalgic tone. It reminded him of better days. Better days with Basil, with Sibyl, with Oscar, before he messed everything up, before he sold his soul and ruined everything (as often happens with Dorian). And he still wasn't entirely sure what to make of the ending, Oscar's belief that killing Dorian was a service to him, the nicest thing he could have done.

"You've got to understand that going through my life sharing a name with Dorian Gray of the book has left me with a unique perspective on the whole thing." And hey, that's technically true. "But the man has some interesting qualities. Say what you will about all the negative aspects--and there are plenty of negative aspects--but he's tenacious." Which was a word that some would use to describe Dorian himself.

"That being said, I've always had a fondness for Wilde's prose and the way he writes certain characters--you'll need to read 'The Importance of being Earnest' after this, by the way. And say what you will about the man, but he certainly provides some unique insights into the human condition."

"I expect it has," responded Yuri with a smile, "which is precisely the reason I've asked."

Though it was far from the only reason.

Dorian—the Dorian Gray who sat with him in his home, that was—there were ways in which he seemed another person, separate from Oscar Wilde's Dorian. Where Oscar's Dorian was more emotional, Yuri's (that was rather a funny way of looking at the other man, wasn't it? as his?) was, for however transparent he could be at times, typically in control of himself and the face he presented the rest of the world with. (And that was a similarity he and his Dorian shared, though again, Yuri was not wanting to think of the similarities that might exist between himself and someone he was deliberating the need to punish.) In comparing the Dorian of the book with the man sitting next to him, Yuri also thought that they were different in the way they expressed their their love of things, at least that was how it seemed so far. Oscar's Dorian was much more vocal about his loves and fancies, sharing them with his friends and he was eager—almost unbearably so—for the approval of the company he kept, but his Dorian...

Well, there were times when Yuri thought that the younger looking man (and that was another thing, was he really as young as he looked?) wanted his approval, was even striving for it, but then there were times when he was convinced that Dorian only wanted him to think so.

"I would have to agree," said Yuri after he tugged his dish and drink toward himself and took a sip of milk. "He is very tenacious...but then, so are you. You're still here, after all. After the way I behaved earlier, if you were anything but, I think you would have gone. I'm sorry for that, by the way. I'm afraid I showed you a rather ugly side when you showed up unannounced, and there really wasn't any call for it."

He met Dorian's gaze and then leaned forward, resting his hand atop the other man's wrist. Squeezing lightly, he promised, "I'll read whatever you like. I want to know you—all about you, even the things you like."

This was getting better and better. Dorian was practically reveling in Yuri's words, letting them settle into his mind. Yuri wanted to know about him, Yuri was interested in him. And why wouldn't he be? Dorian knew that he was interesting. He knew he had a certain effect on people--he had been relying on that effect, on the fact that he was fairly good at convincing people to like him and pay attention to him, his entire life. He loved the fact that it was working, that Yuri's attention was on him, that he was apologizing for his behavior when Dorian essentially barged into the apartment.

In Dorian's mind, this couldn't get any better. He thought that Yuri was interesting, he wanted to draw closer to the man, in hopes that his dreams about Yuri would match the reality. This was going to end up so, so, well for him.

Of course, he couldn't let this be too blatant. He still needed to find some way to show Yuri that he cared about him, that he was interested in his own thoughts, his own opinions--and he did. But at the end of the day, Dorian would choose himself over anybody else. Yuri had potential to be something more, but at the moment? it was just potential. "I'll tell you about me only if you tell me about you in return." Said with a little smirk and a small wink. "After all, it's only fair."

"I will tell you whatever you want to know," Yuri answered, but with a smirk of his own he added, "Unfortunately, I must point out that I cannot be as much of an open book as you. No one has ever written about me, after all."

The remark was meant to sound playful, the perfect guise for how serious Yuri was being beneath it all. He would only tell Dorian enough to keep him interested, he decided. There was, of course, the problem of not wanting to fabricate anything, but so long as he stuck as closely to the truth as possible, he ought to be able to satisfy Dorian's curiosity.

He withdrew his hand from the other man's wrist and returned to picking apart his cinnamon roll. A few more pieces were savored in contemplative silence before, licking his fingers and wiping them upon his napkin, he glanced at the clock behind Dorian and upon the wall and smiled.

"As my way of properly apologizing to you...I will give you the rest of my morning. My business can wait until this afternoon, leaving you and I with plenty of time to begin getting to know one another better right now. How does that sound?"