Ficathon fic: Intimations of Maturity
Intimations of Maturity
by kassia06
Written for avon7, who wanted Miles and Ivan being friends. "Cousins" might be a better word for what they're behaving like here, but, either way, it's a lot of Miles and Ivan. It's overlong, for which I apologize. I hope you enjoy it anyway.
Warnings: Um, there's like, one swear word. Does that count?
Summary: Ivan and Miles go on a double date. Takes place before The Warrior's Apprentice.



"I would, but I don't think my girlfriend would like it."

"No?" said Ivan, disappointed. "You sure?"

Paul gave him a Look, as if Ivan had just said something really stupid. Ivan knew the Look well. "Um, yes, Ivan, I'm sure. Girlfriends don't like it when their boyfriends go out with other people."

"Oh. Okay. Thanks, anyway."

Ivan cut the com and considered his options. He'd composed a mental list of people he could call, weighted according to the likelihood that they'd be available, and the likelihood that they'd behave themselves. If he'd been judging based only on availability, his cousin Miles would have been the first person he called. However, there were other factors to be considered. Including Miles in your social plans was like strapping contact explosive to your torso before you went out. Sure, there was a perfectly good chance that no one would smack into you and set the stuff off, but that didn't make it a good idea.

But, Miles would probably be at home, and Ivan was getting desperate. He schooled his face to an expression of amiability, and keyed in Miles' number.

Nobody picked up for a long time, and Ivan was about to give up when his cousin's face appeared onscreen.

"Oh." Miles' eyes narrowed. "What do you want?"

That wasn't a promising opening line. Ivan licked his lips, and started speaking, "I met this girl--"

Miles held up a hand. "Stop."

Ivan froze with his mouth open, the tip of tongue still pressed against the back of his teeth.

"The answer," said Miles, "is no." He broke into a cheerful grin as he reached up to end the call. "Have a nice day!"

"Hey!" Ivan put his hand up to the vidscreen, as if he could reach through it and stop Miles' hand. Strangely, it worked. His cousin stopped mid-movement. "Don't be a jerk. Let me finish."

Miles dropped his hand, leaned back, and lifted his chin. "Okay, you met a girl. What was her name?"

"Penelope. She told me to call her Penny. I met her--"

"Blonde, brunette, or redhead?"

"Kind of a reddish-brown.... dammit, let me tell my story! This girl, Penny, I met her at the grocery store...."

Miles' expression became oddly wistful. "You meet girls at the grocery store?"

Ivan nodded. "I was running an errand for m'mother. I saw Penny standing next to the produce, and we got to talking."

"About produce?"

"No! I asked her to come out with me tonight, and she said, she would love to, but she has this friend who's visiting her. Just got back from Escobar. She said she couldn't go out without her friend. I told her it was fine, I'd bring a friend along, too."

"That was quick thinking, Ivan."

Ivan smiled gratefully. "Yeah, right?

Miles' eyes sparked with amusement. "Yeah. So how many people did you call before you got to me?"

Ivan placed his hand on his chest in a gesture of trustworthiness. "You're the first."

"Liar."

"Third," Ivan amended.

"So... fifth?"

"Fourth, actually. Miles, come on. It'll be fun."

Miles gave him the Look. Paul's you-are-an-idiot look was just a faint, ineffectual copy of the Vorkosigan version. "I sincerely doubt that."

"I would do it for you," Ivan pointed out.

"Hm." Miles tilted his head thoughtfully. "You would, wouldn't you? But you'd probably enjoy yourself. Whereas the chance that I'll enjoy myself is.... infinitesimal."

Ivan realized that he hadn't impressed the importance of the situation on his cousin. He leaned towards the screen. "Miles, she's a university student."

Miles didn't look too impressed. "She is? You mean Penny or the friend?"

"Penny. I don't know what the friend is."

"Wait." Miles frowned. "You haven't met the friend?"

Oops. Ivan hadn't considered that that might be a sticking point. Should he lie? But Miles was glaring at him, and he forgot how to lie when Miles was glaring at him. Unlike with his mother's terrifying glare, which made him forget how to do anything but lie. Ivan flashed a sheepish smile at his cousin and said, "No."

"Ivan."

"I'll tell you what. If she's hideous or insane, I'll help you fake some kind of deadly allergic reaction, okay?"

That actually seemed to work on Miles. He looked thoughtful for a moment, and then began to nod. "Yeah. All right."

Ivan's brow shot up in surprise. "Seriously?"

"Yes. But just this once."

* * *

It was one of life's great mysteries that overprotective Aunt Alys had let her son have a groundcar. Miles' mother hypothesized that it was in the hope he would use it to take out promising Vor maidens. If that was so, the plan had backfired.

One thing was certain: Aunt Alys had never seen her son drive, at least not the way he was driving now. If she had, she would have locked him up until he was fifty.

"You do see the other cars, right?" Miles asked anxiously. "You know we're not alone on the road?"

"Calm down, coz. We're almost there."

"If by 'there' you mean 'through the window with our bodies smeared across two lanes'," Miles braced himself as Ivan turned a corner, "then, yes, I believe you."

"Don't be such a raging hypocrite," Ivan said. "I've seen you drive."

"That wasn't in Vorbarr Sultana traffic," Miles pointed out. Ivan waved his hand dismissively. "Seriously, Ivan, I can't believe your mother gave you a car."

"Yeah, I was pretty surprised, too. I worked on her, but I didn't expect it to take. Normally, she does everything she can to limit my range of movement." Ivan took another corner as if all the hounds of hell were at their heels. "I guess you haven't had that problem. Your parents have always been pretty relaxed about letting you come and go as you please, haven't they?"

"Not... always," said Miles. "I think they would've sent Bothari with me tonight, if they could have."

Ivan twitched, and glanced behind them, as if he expected to see Bothari's hulking figure looming in the back seat. He turned back forward, and frowned. "Yeah, about that, I hope I'm not expected to be your substitute bodyguard. 'Cause that's not what I had in mind for this evening."

Miles eyed his cousin drily. "Don't worry, Ivan. We have no expectations of you at all."

"Oh. Good."

Miles blew out his breath, and shifted in his seat. Almost there. He wondered what Ivan's Penelope would make of him. More importantly, he wondered what Ivan's Penelope's friend would make of him.

He had learned, fairly early on, not to apologize for his height. He no longer felt that he had to somehow make up for imposing his dwarfish presence on attractive women. Come to think of it, he probably owed a bit of that to Ivan. Ivan had never seemed to care what women might make of Miles' appearance, and had never had any problem foisting Miles on his girlfriends' friends.

Still, it was nerve-wracking to have to anticipate that first response, those few seconds before good manners reasserted themselves. And that was assuming that the person had manners in the first place.

This was why he needed a uniform. They saw his height, his crooked body, and they thought they knew who he was. A uniform, though, that would throw off all their calculations. And even if they thought that it was just nepotism, there were all those decorations he would make sure to accumulate. Even if they thought he'd gotten his uniform for free, a record of victories would speak for itself.

He was getting ahead of himself. He needed a uniform, first.

Not much longer now.

The two women were waiting out in front of the building. The one who must have been Penelope was very pretty, on the cusp of beautiful, not that Miles would've expected anything less from Ivan. She wore her thick, coppery hair loose, though that was not the style in the capital these days, and her skin had a healthy glow even at this distance. The structure of her face, especially the curve of her chin and the shape of her mouth, reminded Miles a bit of Aunt Alys, something he would be sure to point out if Ivan did anything to irritate him.

The friend was a brunette, a couple of inches shorter, with a rounder face. She suffered from standing next to Penelope, but she was definitely attractive in her own right.

"Not bad, right?" Ivan murmured to him, popping the canopy.

Determined to get the worst part over with, Miles got out of the car to stand at his full height and walked forward to meet them.

The reaction wasn't as bad as it could've been, but it was certainly not good. The friend gaped. Miles thoughts started racing. Had Ivan not warned her? Had he been too vague? Had she thought "really short" meant someone who came up to her eyebrows?

No, he reminded himself, this was her problem, not his, not even Ivan's. He strode forward and smiled up at her as if he couldn't see astonishment written on her face. She did, thankfully, get herself under control, and mumbled something polite at Ivan's offhand introductions.

"Alma, this is my cousin, Miles Vorkosigan. Miles, Alma Leeds."

Did her eyes widen just a little more at the name Vorkosigan? Ivan didn't seem to notice anything; he was staring admiringly at Penny.

Ivan and Miles handed their respective dates into the groundcar, and got in after them, Ivan and Penny in the front and Miles and Alma in the back. As they got underway, Ivan announced, "We're going to a place called Fellnik's. I think you'll both like it. The chef is famous all over the continent."

For a second, Miles felt like he was watching the first tutorial in Ivan's Guide to Dating. Rule #1: Women need to be fed. Rule #2: Women like it when their dates are decisive. Penelope and Alma agreed enthusiastically to Ivan's plan.

As they drove to the restaurant, Alma stared forward, out the window, at her hands -- basically anywhere but at Miles. After a little while, she leaned towards the front seat and spoke. "It's really strange to be back. Everything looks different after Escobar."

"Oh?" said Miles, pretending that the comment had been addressed to him though it had clearly been addressed to Penelope. "How long were you on Escobar?"

"A year," she said. She looked at him, and then away. "I think everyone should live off-planet for at least a year. It's an incredible life-changing experience."

"I think that's an excellent idea. Ship everyone off to Beta Colony in shifts and see if they come back any better for it."

"Because," Alma continued, practically talking over him, "you don't really get to know a place until you've lived in it. I know a few people who have visited other planets, but that's not the same. You don't learn to appreciate other cultures until you're immersed in them."

"What's the strangest thing about coming back, for you?" Miles asked, looking pointedly at her face, which was pointedly not looking at his. "What's the most striking difference between here and Escobar?"

"Oh... you know, people there are more open-minded. They have a lot more galactic traffic, and a lot more people from other planets. Barrayar has such a monolithic culture."

Ivan broke off his front-seat conversation with Penny to say helpfully, "Miles has been to Escobar."

"Oh?" said Alma, and nothing more.

They arrived at the restaurant a few moments later. They had a private room in the back of Fellnik's, a fact which clearly impressed their dates. Miles was more impressed by his cousin's tactical genius. The private room said that Ivan had pull without him having to boast of it. It also showed that he was willing to go out of his way for his date without making him look desperate. How had Ivan gotten so smart about women, so fast? Yet he remained so clueless about everything else. He was an idiot savant, obviously.

They had drinks at the bar while they waited for their dinner to be served. The seats were arranged so that Alma had to talk to him, or nobody at all, and she finally started speaking in his direction.

Miles nodded absently as she told some inconsequential anecdote about her favorite nightspot on Escobar, and compared the wine there to the wine on Barrayar. Ivan and Penelope, he noted, seemed to be getting on like a house on fire. At least, Penelope laughed often, and the stream of chatter never dried up.

That was strange, when you thought about it. Because, really, how much could Ivan have to say? Miles tried to think of the conversations he'd had with his cousin. When they weren't finding new ways to get themselves or each other killed -- though, to hear their mothers tell it, that was all they ever did -- they spent most of their time insulting each other, insulting other people, and reminiscing. Penny was smiling, so obviously they weren't exchanging insults. They could hardly be reminiscing. He imagined the conversation: Penelope: Remember when we met in the grocery store three days ago? Ivan: How could I forget? You were standing near the produce. And remember that time, forty-five minutes ago, when I came to pick you up in my groundcar? Penelope: Of course. It seems like only yesterday.

Finally, a waiter came to inform them that dinner was served. On their way in, Ivan briefly detached himself from his date, and came over to Miles. He bent his head and muttered, "Could you at least try to look like you're having a good time?"

Ivan's Rule #3, thought Miles. At least try to look like you're having a good time. Miles hadn't been aware that his displeasure was showing, or that Ivan was observing it. Ivan hadn't seemed to notice anything but his date's charming face. "Don't worry," said Miles. "It doesn't make a difference, either way. Alma wouldn't notice if I stabbed my hand with a fork and started breaking flatware over my head."

"Um, yeah. Just try, okay?"

"All right, Ivan."

"I'm serious, Miles."

"I understand. I'll do my best."

Miles put on a huge smile during dinner. As a challenge to himself, he tried to keep the smile in place the whole time, even while chewing. It was more difficult than he would've imagined, but he thought he did a pretty good job, because Ivan cast alternately worried and irritated glances towards him. Alma didn't seem to notice.

* * *

Ivan was hugely relieved to have dinner over with. Everything had turned out all right despite Miles and Alma. Miles was a pain, but his presence had accomplished its purpose. With some help from Penny, Ivan had managed to deposit the Miles and Alma at a cafe a block away, while he and his date went back to her apartment.

It was a small apartment, but well-kept. Penny left to freshen up, and Ivan walked around, touching things. An apartment of one's own, what a concept. Apartment? Hell, he'd settle for just a room. Or a bunk in a barracks somewhere. Whatever. It all sounded like freedom to him.

Penny reemerged, her hair brushed and her make-up touched up. He wondered why she thought she had to go to the extra effort, but that was girls for you. And he appreciated the thought. "You have a nice apartment," he said.

"Thank you. Can I get you something to drink? Some coffee, wine?"

"Wine would be nice."

She wasn't Vor, so he figured she wouldn't be offended if he followed her into the kitchen while she poured the wine. He said something that made her laugh, and then they returned to the living room, and sat down on the couch. After a few moments, talk dwindled, wine glasses were set down a safe distance away, and things started to get interesting.

Then the door opened.

It was Penny's friend, and she was alone. Ivan cursed Miles. Penny looked like she was doing the same to Alma. But all she said was, "Hello, Alma."

"Where's Miles?" asked Ivan.

"Oh," Alma waved her hand, "he went home."

Ivan frowned. "Home? How?" Could he still be retrieved? Could these two be forced to entertain each other?

"He said he would walk."

"What? All the way home?" Ivan asked in surprise. That was a long walk. And not the safest walk, at night.

"Wine?" Alma looked at the glasses on coffee table. "You finally opened that bottle, Penny?" She passed by them and went to the kitchen.

Penny said, "Excuse me for a moment," and went to follow her.

Ivan picked up his wine glass, and took a gulp. In the kitchen, he could hear the two women engaged in a fierce, whispered conference. At first he couldn't make out what they were saying, but then their voices got sharper.

"You told me he was Vor!"

"He is Vor!"

"At that height?"

The least they could do, though Ivan, was whisper properly. Did they want him to hear? He took another gulp of wine, and looked glumly around the living room.

"Look, can't you go out and find something to do with yourself?"

"What do I know about Vorbarr Sultana? I'm here to visit you, Penny."

"I can't watch you every moment of every day! Where's all that Escobar-style independence you were talking about?"

Ivan shifted uncomfortably. They weren't even whispering anymore. Couldn't they take it outside or something? Acting like this, with company over, it was, it was.... Ivan searched for a word. The only one he could come up with was his mother's most searing indictment. It was vulgar.

Damn it, Alma shouldn't have let Miles walk back. She should have arranged for him to get a ride. It was only polite. And he should've called a cab. It was only sensible. And considerate, for the people who might be considered to be responsible for his safety.

Alma's voice broke through his thoughts. "Were you always such a bitch, Penny?"

"I cannot believe you are calling me a bitch in my own house!"

Oh, God. He had been hoping the flare-up would die down. They weren't to shouting yet, but they were becoming dangerously shrill. Full-blown yelling was only a step away.... and what could he hide behind, if they started throwing things?

And if the girls could be this ill-behaved, what might Alma have said to Miles? Miles could be awfully sensitive when it came to girls and his looks, and he'd been in a weird mood all night. What if she'd said something to push him over the edge? The fact that he would walk home was in and of itself an indication that something was not right. In his mind's eye, Ivan traced the possible routes from this part of town back to Vorkosigan House. Of course, Miles could take care of himself, and he had his perimeter security. But Miles' security had always been only as effective as Miles let it be. If he decided to endanger himself, well, even Bothari had trouble stopping him when Miles was set on doing something stupid.

He noticed, in one part of his mind, that the women's voices had dropped back to whispers. After a moment, Penny and Alma reemerged, red-faced but not shouting or throwing things or trying to strangle each other. Alma caught his eye, and nodded coldly. "It was nice to meet you, Ivan."

"Ah, you too, Alma," he said quickly, as the door shut behind her.

"I'm sorry about that," said Penny.

"It's all right." Penny sat back down, and Ivan handed her her wine.

"We've been rubbing against each other a lot lately," she said. "I thought it would be so nice to have her visit." Penny rolled her eyes expressively. "I was wrong. We fight like a married couple."

"No, I understand. You're old friends." Not that he knew much about old friends. But it must have been the right thing to say, because she nodded, and smiled slightly. She set her glass back down -- she hadn't even taken a sip -- and leaned towards him.

Ivan looked at his own glass. He'd emptied it at some point. This was, what, his fifth glass tonight? Miles had hardly had anything to drink, which was too bad. Then he would've just been sleepy, instead of... whatever else he was. Ivan couldn't even guess, and that was the problem. Better men than he had tried to predict Miles, and failed. Hell, if Aunt Cordelia couldn't even do it, what hope did he have? He was just Ivan.

Penny leaned closer. Her breath tickled his ear.

No, when Miles was in motion, all anyone could do was get out of the way. Hell, Miles was a big boy, now. He could walk home alone if he wanted. He could even try to get himself killed if he wanted. That was the point of all this growing up anyway, right? To earn the right to dig your own grave. And whatever he was up to right now, Miles wouldn't appreciate his big cousin Ivan blundering into it. Best to stay here. Best for everyone involved.

"I have to go," said Ivan.

Penny drew back. "What?"

"I just realized, I have to go. I'm sorry." He hopped to his feet.

"Why? Is there something wrong? Is this about Alma?"

"No, that's not it. I had a great time, Penny, really." He moved towards the door. And then, just in case it would help, he added, "Let's do it again sometime, okay?"

Penny stared at him, bemused. If she was intending to voice any more objections, Ivan never found out, because he was out the door before she could.

Ivan wasn't terribly worried, not really. He had the groundcar, and Miles had short legs. He would have no trouble catching up with the manic-depressive dwarf.

Ivan started at the coffee shop and worked his way along the most likely route. He didn't see Miles, though. Maybe he hadn't gone home? Where else would he have gone? Ivan tried to think of other places, but cut himself off -- there was really no point in driving himself crazy with all the crazy things Miles might have done. He would just focus on the one thing that seemed likely.

He drove slowly, scanning the dark sidewalks for a tiny, dark figure.

* * *

Miles lay on his bed, half his mind on the vidbook in front of him, half his mind on his erstwhile date.

All in all, the whole double date thing with Ivan could have gone much worse. Miles kind of wished it had. A debacle might have been entertaining, whereas the date with Alma had just been a mind-numbering waste of life. Well, he had done his job. Ivan was cozily ensconced in Penny's bachelorette pad now, and if they weren't having a nice time, it wasn't Miles' fault. Which meant Ivan owed him one, something to remember next time he was dragooning Ivan into doing him a favor.

Miles' door opened. Miles couldn't remember the last time someone had opened it without knocking. He looked up from his vid book to see his cousin standing in the doorway.

Ivan was looking at him as if he'd found him dangling from a tree, or lying in the middle of the road -- not like he'd found him in his own bedroom, reading. "How the hell did you get here so fast?" Ivan demanded indignantly.

"I took a cab." Miles looked at his cousin curiously.

Ivan cast around the room, and finally settled into an armchair in the corner. "I ran into your parents downstairs," he said. "Every time they look at me I start to wonder if I've sprouted another head or something."

"Don't mind them. They're old and easily confused. What are you doing here, Ivan? Did something happen? I thought you and Penny were getting on all right."

"We were. Then Alma came in and told us you were going to walk home. So I came looking for you."

"Uh... huh? Why didn't you just call here to see if I was home?"

"I didn't think you would be home. I thought you were walking." Ivan glared at him.

"Well, I thought better of it. It's a long walk, and not all that safe for a person of my stature."

"I know," said Ivan.

Looking at his cousin's glum, resentful face, an amazing thought struck Miles. "Ivan, did you pass on sex to come looking for me?"

Ivan hunkered down in the chair, and looked surly. Miles grinned. "Aw, you shouldn't have."

"Apparently not. Damn it."

Miles put on a semi-sympathetic smile, and said, "If it helps, I thought Penny looked a bit like your mother."

"Gah!" Ivan jerked forward, and looked at Miles, aghast. "No! Why would that help?"

"I thought it might make you feel better about not sleeping with her." Miles pursed his lips. "Never mind."

Ivan settled back in the chair, still looking a bit shellshocked. His eye fell on the vid book, in Miles' hand. "Studying for the service exams?"

"Sort of. Are you ready for them?"

"The physicals, yeah. The writtens, not so much." He looked at Miles thoughtfully. "You were ready for the writtens when we were ten, I think."

Miles couldn't really argue with that, so he shrugged.

"If you combined the two of us -- " Ivan began.

Miles cut him off, "Yeah. Except, you'll do fine on the writtens. You don't need my brain to pass."

They both fell silent. After a moment, Ivan said, "Well, I'd better go." He stood up. "I'm glad you're not dead in a ditch. I was trying to figure out what would happen to me if you got killed tonight. I couldn't decide whether your parents would kill me, or if they'd order Bothari to do it."

"Good point. Bothari, probably. But they'd only take it out on you because they couldn't kill me for getting myself killed." Ivan moved towards the door. Miles said, "So I take it Penny is a lost cause?"

Ivan sighed. "If she wasn't before, she is now."

Miles frowned down at his bare feet, and heard himself saying, "So you wanna do something?" He looked up at Ivan. "Provided we both get into the service, we don't have much, ah... freedom left to us."

The effect was instantaneous. Ivan brightened. "Yeah. I know a girl who's giving a party tonight. Should be a good time."

Miles realized belatedly he'd escaped a boring night with Alma only to throw himself into a boring night with Ivan. He tried to think of some excuse that would undo the damage. The problem was, Ivan knew that Miles had nothing to do tonight. He could fake some kind of deadly allergic reaction.... He opened his mouth, hoping that some convincing excuse would pour out of it.

But all that came out was, "Let me get my shoes."

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