[Damn, it'd be nice to smoke and think this over. Or just smoke. It's been a bit and half of that time has been stressful, but then he'd either have to smoke in her face or scoot away and neither of those are gonna fly. So he chews on his lip and blinks down as she explains, halfway stuck in his own head turning it over.]
Guess so. [Back to the present. He looks at her for a quiet moment, swipes at his hair with his other hand and sighs.] Mm, no. It is. Didn't, uh, think of anyone here, first time -
[And it was a day or two between the first and the second time and in that time he really should've fessed up, trusted someone to handle it before it got away from him. Shouldn't have trusted that he could handle it. His eyes slide to the side, guilty, because they wouldn't be in this mess if he'd gone to her in the first place.]
Fucked it up after that. [Another sigh, then he looks down at her without trying to hide the worry at the edges of his expression.] Shoulda said somethin'. Before I tried it again.
[Softly, though, because of that look on his face. Things she wishes she could fix and is finally starting to understand she can't, because for the most part they're nothing to do with her.]
I'm still worried about you, you know. I'm not gonna pretend I'm not hurt and kinda mad at you, but mostly I'm just worried.
[She wets her lips, tries to find a way to say what's in her head without sounding like and after-school special and comes up with nothing. Hell with it, she'll say it anyway.]
I want you to come to me if something's wrong. If you feel like you need to talk about something, or whatever. I know this is all different and weird now but it doesn't make me care about you any less. I still want to help.
[Worry overlaid with guilt all over again and he can't tell if the way she's speaking, careful and gentle, is making this harder or easier. Part of him thanks it'd be easier if she was more angry with him - open, caring sincerity in discussions is hard to handle and especially to sustain without him either closing up or them getting awkward. But it's also reassuring, that she can say she's mad and doesn't make to pull away.]
An' what if what's wrong is - y'know.
[Them. He squeezes her for a second rather than saying it aloud, not quite a hug, before he levels a look that's a little more solemn.]
You don't come, either. When something's wrong.
[And he doesn't only mean that she doesn't come to him. Last time he knows of that she had a problem, she left - didn't come to anyone at all - almost died. It's in the back of his mind, lurking, but probably shows on his face anyway. The more important thing is that he suddenly wonders if she's been waiting on him to say something similar to her, when to him it's a given.]
[She leans a little closer at that squeeze, moves the arm closest to him behind his back for the extra contact. And she's about to try to lighten the mood with a joke that would doubtless not be funny when he continues and it dies on her lips, replaced by an expression that's halfway guilty and mostly sheepish. Yeah, he has a point. A quiet sigh as she tilts her head towards him.]
Yeah, I know. I'm just used to people getting hurt when they try to help me. That's not some teen poetry bullshit either, I mean physically hurt. But I'll remember. In case there's a next time.
[That's why it's had been so much easier to ask him for help way back, what feels like a very long time ago now. When he'd been just some guy - cute guy, sure, and funny - but just some guy she knew. Now he's so much more than that, and even if it makes her a hypocrite she's not willing to risk him. But if it means taking whatever the hell this is and maybe building something out of it, then... sure. She can try.]
[He doesn't look very impressed with her explanation. Most of the people here are used to getting hurt, and most of the people she knows would be willing to get hurt for her. Well, at least the ones that he knows of - Asato, Alex, himself, but there are probably more. More than that, though, is the fact that it doesn't have to be anything dangerous for them to want to help out.
Or at least that's the case with him.]
Doesn't hafta be that kind of wrong.
[Which comes out slightly snappish, annoyed, though his posture doesn't change.]
Edited (accidentally half a sentence) 2013-01-10 10:24 (UTC)
Help, I need to clean my guns but I'm out of hydrogen peroxide and I don't want to go to medbay to get more?
[A dry answer to his snappishness but it's followed closely by a sigh, because she's meant to be the healthy one here, right. She'll lead by example, if in a very roundabout way and with her eyes fixed on the book in her lap, fingers tracing the pattern of the wood.]
So what if my problem was that a while back this guy I was into asked me to spend the night with him and it was pretty much the happiest and safest I'd felt in months but then everything got weird and now I can't tell if he asked me 'cause he wanted me to or if he only did it because his creepy-ass mask made him think it was a good idea?
[That sure was an avalanche of words, and her breath on finishing is audible.]
[His eyes snap to the ceiling, not quite a roll but more of a why me as he gets ready to comment on her setting fire to the kitchens or, maybe more similar to what he meant, her crashing by his room at ass-o-clock. Or hell, going to Medbay to fetch her sleeping pills or tampons or goddamned whatever.
Of course, none of that actually happens. Instead he spends the first part watching her finger trace patterns, then his stomach flips and he looks like he's about to blush all over again and this is what people are talking about when they mean butterflies, huh, then a tiny frown flickers and he blinks up at her, and finally - ] Uh. [ - a lot more makes sense and he kind of looks like he's high and just solved Wheatley's rubik's cube for a second.]
Shoulda asked before now.
[Not what he meant to say but the practical part of his brain kick-started back first, and answered her question. As soon as he hears it he splutters and gives his head a shake, no, moron, why did you say that, scrubs at his face with his free hand and doesn't bring it back down from his eye because oh god no wonder she hasn't wanted to be around him.]
[Well. She's already awkward just putting it out there and as soon as he tells her she should have asked sooner her cheeks stain red. This is exactly why she hasn't, you butt. And then he's scrambling all over his own words and she'd laugh at that except he says it was after and suddenly her heart's beating so hard she's sure he must be able to hear it throwing itself against the walls of her chest.
But she can't really tell what he's getting at there, so she shifts and it turns her body in towards his as she reaches tentatively up to pull his hand away from his face.]
[Fuck, not even he knows what he's trying to say, everything's a start-stop of letting everything out a clumsy rush of words and keeping it in until he's finished thinking it over, can actually arrange his thoughts into some semblance of order. Not anything that would usually be a question but she really deserves some answers and making her wait on them seems cruel. His fingers curl around her hand and he lets her pull it away, despite how much he wants to bury his face and groan.]
You thought it was - [Thought it was the mask the entire time.] No. I thought - [I'd changed too much and you didn't like me anymore but he bites down on that, because, hell, that could still be the case.]
Didn't realize, [is what he finally settles with, sighs it out and can't seem to meet her eyes until he rolls a shoulder and lifts his chin, thumbing across her knuckles. Takes a breath.] Sorry...
[She doesn't really care whether he's sorry - sorry's nice, sure, but what she wants is clarity. And that's always going to be a stumbling block with them and their multiple-lifetimes-worth of issues but this, at least, she can ask for. So she does, with their hands cupped warm together and her eyes on his, no effort to hide her need for a straight answer.]
It was your choice. You wanted it?
[Blunt, yeah, but that's kind of his style even if feelings really really aren't. And she needs this, needs to know.]
[Still a little vague - it could be any number of things, her feeling happy and safe or her spending the night or whatever it was they had going before everything went to hell - and even though there's a flicker of confusion he doesn't ask her to specify. The answer's the same regardless of what it is.]
Want.
[His blush rockets up to eleven when he realizes how forward that is. He clears his throat, fixes it.]
[Want is good. Want is great. Wanted is.. less good, and that trips her for a second, but it's still miles better than the mask just seeing her as another thing to hoard and figuring out a way to make her add herself to the collection willingly. And between the two of them the blush factor in the room is probably enough to power one of the engines, but hell with it. Might as well get it out of the way while she's already tripping over her words, each one so weighted with hope and more than a month's wort of confused emotions that they clunk.]
I still want it. And if you do too, I wanna try.
[To get back to where they were, to figure out what they're even doing - or to not figure it out and make it work anyway.]
[It's not that want was wrong, it's that she wasn't asking about the present at the time and he went and blurted it anyway. She's asking about it now, though, and that word is suddenly appropriate again, should be easy to say or agree with except that he's sort of blown away that she gave him a want in return. Even with a lot of the avoidance explained, the logic hasn't quite sunk in. So his brows go up and he cocks his head - no way, really? - realizes it's a stupid question and this is no time to let an opportunity slip away, nods and bites his cheek. Yeah. Yeah he does. Despite the fact that they have no idea what the fuck they're doing.
The sap in him wants to kiss her even though that's probably a horrible idea, given how high he's riding already, his ridiculously strong reaction in the Gardens earlier. He pulls his hand so that he can thumb at her lip, fingers cupping her face, spends a long moment looking at her mouth before he lifts his eyes to hers again. Unsure.]
[He looks almost stunned for a moment there, just long enough for her to get a really good run-up to kicking herself, but then he nods and doesn't say anything and holds her face like that, and wow.
Her eyes close and her mouth opens, lips parted against the press of his thumb, and... nothing happens. She opens her eyes just in time to see him raise his, to catch that look of uncertainty in them and Jesus Christ her first kiss ever didn't make her feel this tangled up and nervous and it's enough to push her back into her old pattern of covering up with bravado, so:]
[Bravado that he doesn't match except for a single tap of his thumb on her lower lip. Can't, if he actually wants to kiss her and make sure it's normal, can't afford the distraction. He keeps looking at her and yeah it's probably weird that he's staring her down while she can see that he's steeling himself, but it's better that she knows he thinks he needs to be cautious about this, right.]
Don't move.
[A little upswing on the end that makes it sound more like a question than an order, a don't move, please? as he cups her face in both hands and leans forward, halting and careful, noses over her cheek and finally presses his lips against hers with a sigh. A warm, almost shy brush of a thing that he lets linger before he swallows, nods against her forehead with his thumbs still pressing against her cheekbones and his fingers sliding toward the nape of her neck. Whispers with his lips still at the edge of her mouth and his eyes barely open.]
[Don't move, he says, and she doesn't. Stills under his touch and doesn't even breathe in the gentle cradle of his hands, which is really of no consequence because that lingering, tender touch would steal it away anyhow.
When his lips leave hers she keeps her eyes closed, lashes sooty against her freckled cheeks and a smile curving against the near press of his mouth. Inhale swift and shaky and the exhale slow, thinking it wants to be a sigh or a laugh and not quite making it to either.]
Okay.
[A pause, and then that laugh finally forms, warm and welcoming. No bravado here, anymore.]
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Guess so. [Back to the present. He looks at her for a quiet moment, swipes at his hair with his other hand and sighs.] Mm, no. It is. Didn't, uh, think of anyone here, first time -
[And it was a day or two between the first and the second time and in that time he really should've fessed up, trusted someone to handle it before it got away from him. Shouldn't have trusted that he could handle it. His eyes slide to the side, guilty, because they wouldn't be in this mess if he'd gone to her in the first place.]
Fucked it up after that. [Another sigh, then he looks down at her without trying to hide the worry at the edges of his expression.] Shoulda said somethin'. Before I tried it again.
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[Softly, though, because of that look on his face. Things she wishes she could fix and is finally starting to understand she can't, because for the most part they're nothing to do with her.]
I'm still worried about you, you know. I'm not gonna pretend I'm not hurt and kinda mad at you, but mostly I'm just worried.
[She wets her lips, tries to find a way to say what's in her head without sounding like and after-school special and comes up with nothing. Hell with it, she'll say it anyway.]
I want you to come to me if something's wrong. If you feel like you need to talk about something, or whatever. I know this is all different and weird now but it doesn't make me care about you any less. I still want to help.
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An' what if what's wrong is - y'know.
[Them. He squeezes her for a second rather than saying it aloud, not quite a hug, before he levels a look that's a little more solemn.]
You don't come, either. When something's wrong.
[And he doesn't only mean that she doesn't come to him. Last time he knows of that she had a problem, she left - didn't come to anyone at all - almost died. It's in the back of his mind, lurking, but probably shows on his face anyway. The more important thing is that he suddenly wonders if she's been waiting on him to say something similar to her, when to him it's a given.]
Uh. Y'know you can, right.
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[She leans a little closer at that squeeze, moves the arm closest to him behind his back for the extra contact. And she's about to try to lighten the mood with a joke that would doubtless not be funny when he continues and it dies on her lips, replaced by an expression that's halfway guilty and mostly sheepish. Yeah, he has a point. A quiet sigh as she tilts her head towards him.]
Yeah, I know. I'm just used to people getting hurt when they try to help me. That's not some teen poetry bullshit either, I mean physically hurt. But I'll remember. In case there's a next time.
[That's why it's had been so much easier to ask him for help way back, what feels like a very long time ago now. When he'd been just some guy - cute guy, sure, and funny - but just some guy she knew. Now he's so much more than that, and even if it makes her a hypocrite she's not willing to risk him. But if it means taking whatever the hell this is and maybe building something out of it, then... sure. She can try.]
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Or at least that's the case with him.]
Doesn't hafta be that kind of wrong.
[Which comes out slightly snappish, annoyed, though his posture doesn't change.]
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[A dry answer to his snappishness but it's followed closely by a sigh, because she's meant to be the healthy one here, right. She'll lead by example, if in a very roundabout way and with her eyes fixed on the book in her lap, fingers tracing the pattern of the wood.]
So what if my problem was that a while back this guy I was into asked me to spend the night with him and it was pretty much the happiest and safest I'd felt in months but then everything got weird and now I can't tell if he asked me 'cause he wanted me to or if he only did it because his creepy-ass mask made him think it was a good idea?
[That sure was an avalanche of words, and her breath on finishing is audible.]
no subject
Of course, none of that actually happens. Instead he spends the first part watching her finger trace patterns, then his stomach flips and he looks like he's about to blush all over again and this is what people are talking about when they mean butterflies, huh, then a tiny frown flickers and he blinks up at her, and finally - ] Uh. [ - a lot more makes sense and he kind of looks like he's high and just solved Wheatley's rubik's cube for a second.]
Shoulda asked before now.
[Not what he meant to say but the practical part of his brain kick-started back first, and answered her question. As soon as he hears it he splutters and gives his head a shake, no, moron, why did you say that, scrubs at his face with his free hand and doesn't bring it back down from his eye because oh god no wonder she hasn't wanted to be around him.]
I mean uh - no. Put it on after that. You've - ?
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But she can't really tell what he's getting at there, so she shifts and it turns her body in towards his as she reaches tentatively up to pull his hand away from his face.]
I've what?
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You thought it was - [Thought it was the mask the entire time.] No. I thought - [I'd changed too much and you didn't like me anymore but he bites down on that, because, hell, that could still be the case.]
Didn't realize, [is what he finally settles with, sighs it out and can't seem to meet her eyes until he rolls a shoulder and lifts his chin, thumbing across her knuckles. Takes a breath.] Sorry...
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It was your choice. You wanted it?
[Blunt, yeah, but that's kind of his style even if feelings really really aren't. And she needs this, needs to know.]
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Want.
[His blush rockets up to eleven when he realizes how forward that is. He clears his throat, fixes it.]
Uh - wanted, yeah.
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I still want it. And if you do too, I wanna try.
[To get back to where they were, to figure out what they're even doing - or to not figure it out and make it work anyway.]
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The sap in him wants to kiss her even though that's probably a horrible idea, given how high he's riding already, his ridiculously strong reaction in the Gardens earlier. He pulls his hand so that he can thumb at her lip, fingers cupping her face, spends a long moment looking at her mouth before he lifts his eyes to hers again. Unsure.]
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Her eyes close and her mouth opens, lips parted against the press of his thumb, and... nothing happens. She opens her eyes just in time to see him raise his, to catch that look of uncertainty in them and Jesus Christ her first kiss ever didn't make her feel this tangled up and nervous and it's enough to push her back into her old pattern of covering up with bravado, so:]
You gonna kiss me or what?
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Don't move.
[A little upswing on the end that makes it sound more like a question than an order, a don't move, please? as he cups her face in both hands and leans forward, halting and careful, noses over her cheek and finally presses his lips against hers with a sigh. A warm, almost shy brush of a thing that he lets linger before he swallows, nods against her forehead with his thumbs still pressing against her cheekbones and his fingers sliding toward the nape of her neck. Whispers with his lips still at the edge of her mouth and his eyes barely open.]
... okay.
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When his lips leave hers she keeps her eyes closed, lashes sooty against her freckled cheeks and a smile curving against the near press of his mouth. Inhale swift and shaky and the exhale slow, thinking it wants to be a sigh or a laugh and not quite making it to either.]
Okay.
[A pause, and then that laugh finally forms, warm and welcoming. No bravado here, anymore.]
Thank you.