braveoff | [ DUPLICITY ] inbox

I need you to look into a sundries shop in the Down.
Standard rate.
I have a Statement from someone who purchased a grandfather clock from that location that's been giving them nightmares of rapid aging and death.
I'd like to know the providence of the clock and if it has any link to Insincerity.

Edited 2021-03-24 18:43 (UTC)

I don't think this is who you meant for it to go to, but I'm happy to investigate. What's Insincerity?

[That... is not Festival's username, no.]

Brilliant.
Who exactly is this?

[He's asking the questions here!]

Drake Holloway. Who's this?

Jonathan Sims.
Insincerity is another city accessible from one of the LIEs buildings in the Up.
I meant for this to go to an associate.
I have no idea who 'Drake Holloway' is.

You could try sending it again but I'm pretty sure the wires are crossed enough right now that you'd be better off just telling your associate directly.

Nothing I'm sending is going where it's meant to.

I'm new.

[Ugh. Inconvenient.]

Good for you.

[He doesn't want to have to go and track Festival down.]

What are you skillsets, Mr. Holloway?

It's pretty unfortunate, actually, but thanks?

Combat and intel gathering, mostly. We get much more specific than that and I'd rather not be talking on these.

[Useful skillsets, then. Maybe someone to assist Chris or Festival when they're working for him? Or just another security guard for the building.]

'Undercover.'
Are you a police officer or a spy?
Or is that getting too specific?

I was a cop, yeah, but I only went after the big fish so don't hold it against me.

[ Most people do. ]

[Okay, but what if he does?]

I've worked with former officers before.
What division?
Have you ever managed any cases dealing with the paranormal?

Joint task force, vice and major crimes.

I haven't, no.

Do you believe in the supernatural, then?

I do, yeah. I don't think it exists back in my world, but I saw plenty of it the last place I was in.

It exists here, as well.
What other place were you in before this one?

An alien city called Hadriel. The 'gods' of that world fed off emotions and could use that energy to do just about anything, including bringing people back from the dead.

[Well, now...]

Any emotions, or specific ones?

Specific ones. They were each named after the ones they needed. Hope, Fear, Confusion, Love... like that.

Edited 2021-04-10 00:54 (UTC)

I'd call Confusion a state more than an emotion.
Was there any particular incentive to feed and entity of Fear?

Whichever it is, she fed off it.
Fear protected the city, and we didn't a choice in whether we fed them or not. They did things to us and the city to make us feel what they needed.

[It's years ago at this point, but he remembers asking Gerry about the possibility of other Entities, ones with some positive influence to balance the Fears. If something like that could really exist out in the multiverse...]

Well, they all sound like dicks if they were forcing you to experience emotions.
How long were you there for?

Yeah, it wasn't the best way but the population was really too small for them to feed off emotions they didn't force.

A little over two years.

How were you being brought there?
Some sort of technology?
I don't suppose the lab where you arrived in Duplicity looked at all familiar?

Not technology, magic. We called it the Door.
I've never seen a lab quite like this one.

[That's unfortunate.]

But it was magic that was able to pull you across dimensions?
Interesting.
We've yet to divine if it's magic or some sort of technology doing it here.
Or if we're even real or this is the Matrix, really.
That's part of the work I've been doing.
Sort of.
Just trying to see what information is out there on this place.
It is strikingly difficult to learn anything about the actual origins of Duplicity or this world.

What have you learned so far? The locals won't talk to me so I haven't learned much at all about how the city's run or survives.

I've prepared a digital collection.

[Jon sends along an attachment with two zipped attachments.]

In brief, we know that Duplicity's authorities have made every effort to scrub the date of Duplicity's inception from their records.
There's only been one photograph found with a full year: 28 September 2018.
And there's indication that one individual who appears to be in his 50s or 60s was born within the city of Duplicity.
It's unclear how long LIEs has been operating here or how long they've been dragging people into their programs.
There are definitely non-humans in the city who aren't part of the most recent program that's been running for the past two and a half years.
But where they've come from is a mystery.
LIEs was running with natives before we arrived.
That much is clear.

[ There's a lot of information there -- Drake starts reading it until he gets another message, then switches back to Jon. He'll comb through it carefully later. ]

You've done a lot of work -- how long have you been here to get all this?

Nearly two years.
It was mainly searching back through the messages posted to the network.
The accounts are incomplete, but they're the best I was able to cobble together.

It's beginning to feel like when Jar Jar got his hands on things, my love.

Heads up that this isn't who you meant to send that to, I'm pretty sure. Sorry.

Again, it seems. I had thought this time...

You've my apologies.

Your username. Is this Padmé?

It is.

[And after a moment.]

Hello, Drake.

Hey, how'd you guess?

A politician never gives away her secrets.

Am I the only person you've met recently you didn't already know the username of?

Got it in one.

See, I can be clever too. How're you doing?

I'll be better prepared next time.

Finding the more quirky aspects of this place frustrating, and debating just walking to get an answer instead of continuing to try this thing.

You?

That might be more efficient, honestly.

I'm... bored, hah. I'm not used to living alone and I don't go in to work for a couple hours yet, so I'm just people watching in the park.

Already employed. I haven’t found anything, even if I could.

You shared a residence before?

I've heard it's easier once you're contracted and have 'permission' or whatever.

Yeah, I did. I lived with my partner.

Indeed. One needs permission for many things here.

And they did not arrive?

[Her own husband had been here almost a year without her.]

It's a little more complicated than that. They're here, they arrived at the same time, but... don't remember anything.

I'm sorry to hear that.
This place can be cruel enough on it's own without adding to it.

I'll be alright.

Can I ask, do you have a partner here? Your first message was to a 'my love.'

We are both submissives, although he has been here far longer than I.

Do you think his dominant would contract you, too? Or are you looking for someone else?

[Anakin had already surprised her by going to his to ask her to take Padmé on.]

She has already offered.

A friend told me to find someone I trust.

You don't trust her? Or you're just taking your time? That's smart.

I don't know her beyond our initial meeting.
Contracting would make things simpler.

[Yet she hasn't agreed, nor has Padmé ever been one to take the easier road.]

Simpler's not always best. I'd say get to know her a little more first, but... I guess they're temporary anyway, right? If you hit three months and don't have a contract, it's better than a citation.

Indeed. I've no desire to provide them with any more dominion over me. But I see no need to rush.

If you run out of time and decide not to go with her, you can come to me. I'm not rushing, either, but I don't see myself rescinding the offer.

That's very generous of you to offer.

I'm trying to find someone I actually like, since we'd have to spend a good amount of time together. You've been really nice.

It is a good basis to start on.

I thought so.

Your partner, what's his name?

Same. It makes an untenable situation a little better.

Anakin. He's been here almost a year.

Must be nice to have someone to help you adjust?

In a way, yes.

[That unspoken but...]

There's another that we both know here as well.
Several others that know the galaxy we share.

Edited 2021-04-01 02:01 (UTC)

There's a but there. What is it?

The very nature of this place, is all.

I'm sure it'd be easier for you both if he were a Dom.

We're both headstrong people.
Just in different ways.

[ Following this. There's not a lot else he wants to do around this place. Sharkface shows up in the clothes Drake lent him fairly soon after their conversation and knocks on the door. He's got his hood up when Drake answers the door.

His smile is faint, but there. ]

Hey.

[ The knock comes sooner than Drake would have expected. He crosses the apartment to answer it and finds Sharkface waiting outside with his hood up and a faint smile on his face. That's promising, he thinks to himself, stepping back to let the other man in. ]

Hey. I was just seeing what I could make for dinner, you want to take a look with me?

Didn't know there'd be food involved.

[ That's nice. He can't cook for shit and takeout gets expensive. Sharkface steps inside, pushing his hood back. ]

I mean, I can look. Don't think you want me cooking.

No worries, I was gonna cook while you were working on blocking out the mural.

[ He suddenly remembers teaching Ephemera how to flip pancakes and it aches, his expression faltering. ]

Come see if anything jumps at you.

[ He blinks, wondering at that expression but unable to place the reasons for it. ]

Okay. Show me.

[ He can work on the mural, at least. ]

[ Drake leads him back to the kitchen and opens the fridge. Most notably he's got steak, because after years of basically being vegan in Hadriel he's reintroducing animal protein to his diet. There's also chicken, though, and veggies.

He lets Sharkface rummage while he gets out the things that will be necessary no matter what, and opens the cupboard with the starches. ]

[ The glance he gets at Drake's fridge seems promising. Plenty of protein and fresh vegetables. Whatever Drake ends up making will be light years better than the shit he got in prison. Sharkface feels a brief stab of grief for Barrows, and his brother's cooking, but pushes it aside to start laying out his pencils. ]

It's been a long time since I've had anything with fresh ingredients.

[ It's said a little wistfully. ]

Thanks.

Me too, actually. Go ahead, pick something. If you want the steak it should come to room temp anyway.

[ He's not sure of the order they're doing things in, but wants to let Sharkface pick what dinner is just because he knows it's been a long time since he had that chance. ]

[ Sharkface tips his head to the side, considering his options. He goes for the chicken and some bell pepper, in the end. Chicken can't be that hard to cook, right? And bell peppers are easy, just chop them up. ]

Any food you couldn't find? Shit they might be short of?

[ It's asked idly. For lack of a better idea, he's devoted himself to trying to find out how the city works. ]

[ Drake notes what Sharkface pulls out, grinning slightly at it. It's like he's asking for a stir fry without actually using the words. Easy. He pulls down some rice and ingredients for a sauce, then goes to dig an onion out of a lower cupboard. ]

It looked like any other market to me. Nobody would answer when I asked if things were imported, though.

[ It's not like he expected them to. ]

Are you hungry now?

[ Sharkface steps back, out of the way. He supposes he can chop things, if Drake wants the help, but he's a shit cook. ]

They're real tight-lipped around here.

[ At least about how the city is run, anyway. ]

Yeah, I can eat.

They sure are.

[ When Sharkface steps back Drake nods towards the sketchbook, still on the coffee table -- the kitchen and dining/living areas are open plan. ]

You can start blocking if you want. I'll get this done, it should be ready in like half an hour.

[ Sharkface hesitates, then nods. He came here to work on the mural, after all.

And. Maybe other things. But the food, and the art, and the conversation? Those, at least, feel simple. He likes Drake's company more than anticipated. ]

Yeah.

[ He steps out into the living room area, picking up the sketchbook for a better look. ]

You settling in okay?

[ The jungle landscapes are towards the end of the book, he'll have to flip through it again to find them. ]

I guess in some ways. I've got some acquaintances, work, patrol... everything but what they want me to.

How about you?

[ He has more time to linger over the sketches now and does so, tracing out some of the lines with his finger. Wondering at the intention behind them. The care. ]

Got into a fight with my roommate. Then we did shots.

[ So. On balance, it could be worse. ]

[ Drake starts chopping, oblivious to Sharkface going through the book behind him. ]

Sounds like it could have gone worse. What did you fight about?

He didn't like my face.

[ It's the same bullshit he used to field back in prison. He thinks there's something a little off about Majima, but so what? There's something off about this whole goddamn situation.

Sharkface hums, going through the sketchbook. He lingers over some of the drawings of Drake, wondering at the care there. Then he twitches and flips over to the jungle drawing.

It's easier to focus on that right now, instead of wondering over a life some other version of him lived. ]

You want it covering the whole wall, or just a section?

Asshole.

[ Drake bristles slightly -- he doesn't like hearing it. He doesn't like that Sharkface is living with someone like that, but they seem to have worked it out. It's not his business, really.

He lets it go, dumping onion and pepper in the pan. The sound of vegetables sizzling fills the space. ]

Whole wall would look better, don't you think? I'm not in a rush.

[ Sharkface just shrugs. ]

He doesn't care that I paint on the walls.

[ Things balance themselves out, in the end. ]

Cool. I can do the whole wall.

[ Plenty of space to work with, plenty of little nooks and crannies to fill with detail. ]

Don't thinK I'll get to painting today. There's a lot to block out first.

[ Drake knows that's an acceptable trade to Sharkface, so he just nods and stays quiet. Works on making a sauce for the stir fry instead. It's easier to talk about the mural. ]

Like I said, no rush. I'm not going to complain about seeing more of you.

[ Maybe he shouldn't have said that, but he can't take it back now. Doesn't really want to, anyway. ]

If you tell me what colors you need I can go nuts at the paint store next paycheck.

[ Oh. That -

Sharkface hesitates, not sure what to make of that. Where he's supposed to fit in that equation, when he's not the man that Drake knew. They didn't share the things the sketchbook shows. That connection. That care.

But here they are. That matters, doesn't it?

He sets the sketchbook down carefully and begins laying out his pencils and the battered ruler he managed to dig up. Might as well get started. ]

Yeah. Okay. I'll make a list.

[ He hesitates. ]

Thanks. For. This.

[ It's not quite that simple for Drake. For all he knows, this Sharkface is the same person, just from an earlier point again. They arrived at the same time. Something could have gone wrong in transit.

But even if it is a different version entirely, Drake doesn't think he's capable of treating him differently. At least not at this point, where things are lining up. Where he still feels like he understands this man, can help him. Everyone deserves that, don't they?

He goes still in his cutting up the chicken when Sharkface thanks him. For the work, for something to do, for the supplies, probably. Little things. Easy things.

Drake still smiles at it. ]

...you're welcome. But you're doing me the favor, I hate all the white in here.

[ Sharkface glances back toward the kitchen, flashing Drake a small smile. It's not much of one, with his scars, but it's real. ]

White walls bother me. They're too empty.

[ Drake's never been bothered by the scars. They were just less important than the expression beneath -- if anything they're the sign of something he went through, something he survived. So he likes the smile. It rings true, reaches his good eye.

He nods, then turns back to the meal he's preparing. ]

I feel the same way. My ma always covered the walls in pictures. Knicknacks on every shelf. It doesn't feel like home unless there's something to catch your eye on the wall.

[ The chicken gets added to the pan with another sizzle. ]

I had to keep the walls bare, for work back home. So it never felt like I lived there. But in Hadriel, we had every inch covered. I loved it.

Yeah. You can get used to living with nothing but the essentials, but it's -

[ Sharkface hesitates. ]

It's better, when you can fill a space.

Yeah. Yeah, it is.

[ It feels safer, more comfortable, even if that's not true. It feels like it's yours.

He lets Sharkface work in peace while he cooks, and soon enough the smell of dinner is filling the space -- the rice needs another few minutes by the time he's finished the stir fry so he flicks off the heat on the pan and comes over to look at what Sharkface is sketching on his wall. ]

That looks amazing already.

[ He smiles, steps in a little closer. ]

Dinner will be done in a couple minutes -- do you want a drink?

[ He works in broad strokes first, getting the general shape of the thing down. Making sure the movement is consistent across the entire piece, that one section doesn't overwhelm the others. Later, he'll go in and add the small details. He'll work from the picture, like Drake asked, but already Sharkface can see sections where he'll improvise, or build on the sketch. Make it his own.

Sharkface steps back with a frown, examining his work. ]

Good. It's coming together.

[ It'll be a big project. He's thankful for that. He glances at Drake, expression softening, and nods. ]

Yeah. Thank you.

[ Drake isn't picky about sticking to the sketch. He'd prefer more color anyway, flowers for sure, since those existed on the jungle planet.

He stands next to Sharkface and just looks at it for a moment, already feeling better about the wall existing in his space. It'll be his, how he wants it, soon enough. ]

Thank you. I've got soda, coffee, or whiskey. Feel free to combine those. Maybe not the coffee and the soda.

[ Sharkface hums to himself, rolling his shoulders. Taking it all in. The mural's coming together in pieces. He can see the shape of it now, knows how it'll come together.

It's a good project, he thinks.

Sharkface huffs a little, smiling at Drake. ]

Whiskey would be good.

Sure.

[ Drake smiles back, then returns to the kitchen and opens a cupboard to pull down two glasses and a bottle. ]

Come sit.

[ Sharkface nods, following Drake in. He takes a seat. ]

Met anyone new? Anyone worth knowing?

Maybe. One woman, she's been here two and a half years, seems to know things inside and out.

[ He pours them drinks and places one in front of Sharkface, going to grab plates and utensils and such while the rice finishes. ]

I've got a couple hits on the ad that I agreed to meet, just to see if we get along. I'm still not looking to rush into a contract but... the quota's a thing.

Yeah. The quota's a thing.

[ His tone goes flat for a moment, though he shakes it off and takes a drink. ]

Met a couple people who seem to know their way around. I'll see how it turns.

[ Drake sets their places at the island where Sharkface is seated, nodding approvingly. ]

Everybody I've met seems to hate it, I figure that's a pretty good sign too. That there's no kool-aid.

Anybody interesting?

[ Sharkface hums in agreement. ]

Not sure. Maybe. Some kid named Katie Holt seems to know her way around. And there's a woman named Qi'ra who's built herself some power in the Down. I'll see how it shakes out.

Sounds like someone worth knowing.

[ Drake checks the rice again and deems it done, flicking off the heat and serving them both before coming around the island to sit next to Sharkface. ]

The woman I met who's been here forever is Raven -- she says she switched designations a couple years ago, but that it almost never happens.

[ He hums in agreement, watching Drake. What he says next is interesting. ]

Really. But it is possible?

[ That's worth knowing. ]

How'd that happen?

She got in with the would-be mayor. I got the impression it was some kind of a stunt or... something.

A stunt.

[ Sharkface frowns. ]

But it took? It's real?

Like a show of power? But I'm just guessing. And it's real, yeah.

[ Sharkface nods slowly. ]

Good to know, I guess. I'm still trying to get a handle on this place. All the fucking rules.

[ Heh. Fucking rules. When they're rules about fucking. It'd be funny if it were intentional but as it is it's just... frustrating. Drake picks up his fork and nods towards Sharkface's plate for him to try dinner. ]

Go ahead. While it's hot.

[ Oh. Right. Sharkface glances down at the plate and then back at Drake.

It's fine. It's just food. Only, no one's cooked for him in a long time. Not since Barrows, he thinks.

He twitches and takes his fork. Digs in before he can think too hard about it. ]

Shit. This is good.

[ Drake beams, then tempers his smile to something less embarrassingly obvious and spears a bite of chicken. ]

Thanks. I got a lot of practice in the past couple of years.

[ Both of cooking and cooking for Ephemera, specifically. Drake knows his tastes. ]

[ Sharkface lifts his head and gives Drake a faint smile. ]

It's a good skill. I like it.

I'm glad.

[ He takes a bite himself, and they eat quietly for a little while. Until what's been in the back of Drake's mind since Sharkface arrived gets too loud for him to ignore. ]

...you don't have to stay, you know.

[ The silence settles between them. It's not uncomfortable, not like he feared it might be.

Sharkface hesitates, chewing on his food. ]

No. I don't have to.

[ He could up and walk away. Take his chances. ]

It wasn't so bad last time, was it?

No, it was good. I just... don't want it to only be about the quota.

[ He breathes out, reaches for his drink. ]

Not with you.

[ Oh. Sharkface twitches a little, dropping his gaze down to his hands and the tattoos stretching across his knuckles. The rings. The memorial. He belongs to the dead now. He thinks Drake knows that, on some level. ]

I don't know how to explain it.

[ His voice is very soft. ]

But I trust you. I know that's not....it's not much. But that's real.

[ Drake blinks. He was expecting Sharkface to shut down a bit at that admission, honestly, which might have been underestimating him except for that they barely know each other from his perspective. It's not like Drake's offered him much in the grand scheme of things, not like when they met in Hadriel. But instead the other man says 'I trust you' and that's... a lot, honestly. It matters. He smiles softly. ]

It is. And it's plenty. I'd like you to stay, if you're up for it. Even just to work on the mural.

[ Sharkface lifts his head, watching Drake. It's a nice smile. Drake wears it well. ]

I'd like to stay. To work on the mural.

[ He doesn't particularly want to address the quota thing, but it's still hanging over both of them. ]

I'm glad.

[ If nothing else he likes the company. He can watch Sharkface work, make up the couch for him if it gets too late to go back. They don't have to do anything. ]

[ That sits between them. Sharkface takes a slow breath, then another, and reaches for his drink to steady himself.

Okay. He's okay. ]

Thank you. For the food. And - the mural.

[ The chance to work on it, he means. ]

I'm definitely the one who should be thanking you -- I couldn't afford to pay for work like this and it's important to me. To make the place more like it's mine.

[ He isn't exactly planning on making a home here, but knows from experience that it happens anyway. ]

What have you been painting on your walls?

[ His expression softens briefly. ]

This set of cliffs I saw on a drop. They were some kind of black crystal. I remember the way it'd shine. I'm working on that. Lot of shades. Lot of lighting.

[ Drake smiles -- Ephemera never showed him that jump specifically, but he knows how much the other man loved them. It's good that something that makes him happy is going up on the walls. ]

Can I see sometime?

[ He hesitates a bit, then nods. ]

If you want. Place is pretty crappy.

I wouldn't be coming for the place.

[ He doesn't specify whether it's for Sharkface or just the art, though. Leaves it open to interpretation as he takes another bite. ]

[ Yeah. He wouldn't. Sharkface watches Drake for a moment, then nods. ]

Okay. I'll kick my roommate out and you can come over sometime. Just let me know when.

Thanks.

[ He tilts his head curiously. ]

Kick your roommate out, huh? He that bad or am I?

Oh, he's crazy.

[ It's said matter-of-factly. ]

And we got into a knife-fight. Then we made up.

[ Drake blinks. A knife fight is way worse than he was thinking when Sharkface last mentioned issues with the roommate. That's. Yeah, he doesn't like that. The other man can handle himself, obviously, but he shouldn't have to wonder if he's going to be stabbed in his own apartment. The urge to just invite him to crash here indefinitely is strong, but Drake clamps down on it. Too much, too fast. Instead he asks a question. ]

...do you sleep okay there?

[ Sharkface just shrugs. ]

I don't sleep much. Ever. But it's fine. I can handle it.

[ He's not worried about getting shanked when he does manage to sleep. ]

[ Drake's quiet for a long moment, then breathes out and takes a risk. ]

...crash here tonight? See how it feels.

[ Oh. Sharkface hesitates, watching Drake for a moment. ]

...maybe.

[ He doesn't sleep much these days. He'd probably just end up pacing in the middle of the night. But maybe he could go back to working on the mural. ]

I'll think about it.

That's all I ask. Offer's open.

[ He finishes off the last bite of dinner and swirls the whiskey left in his glass, downing it in one last swallow. Stands up to take the dishes to the sink and put away the leftovers. ]

[ Sharkface lowers his gaze and downs the last of his glass, kicking it back. The quota is still a thing. Hanging over both of them. And maybe, maybe it wouldn't just be easier to - ?

Breathe. He twitches, and stands to help put the dishes away. ]

Food's good.

Thanks. It's nice to have access to actual meat again... you want a snack later, there's some left.

[ He's currently transferring it to a container, dishes left in the sink.

As casual and domestic as the meal felt, though, he is starting to sense that tension in the air again. The quota hanging over them, will they or won't they? Drake closes the container and sticks it in the fridge, wondering if he should do dishes now and let Sharkface paint a little more, or... it's easier to just ask, honestly. He closes the fridge door and turns to where the other man is standing at the sink. ]

What do you feel like?

[ Yeah. That. Sharkface leans against the wall, watching Drake for a long moment.

He swallows hard. ]

Do you want - ?

[ His gaze flicks to Drake's mouth briefly. ]

Only if you're comfortable with it.

[ It's interesting to him that Sharkface glances at his mouth, though. He'd seemed kind of skittish about the kissing, last time. ]

I mean. I do, but. I'm not the type to push, either, if you want to just paint all night I'd be happy to watch that, too.

[ Comfortable. Hah. Given the choice, Sharkface knows he'd rather just - paint. Maybe talk to Drake while doing it. Let things settle. Have a quiet moment for a time, let it slow down. But that's not the reality of their situation, is it? The quota's hanging over all of them and it's been made very clear what will happen if they don't play along.

Pieces of it felt good last time. Drake said he wanted it to be about more, but this -

It feels too big. Too heavy.

Sharkface twitches and looks away. He wonders if there's anymore alcohol. And he knows it would be unfair to ask.

Breathe. ]

It doesn't -

[ He rocks minutely, trying to find the words to explain it. To make the situation feel easier, somehow. ]

It doesn't have to be complicated, does it?

[ Drake leans back against the kitchen counter, giving that question the consideration it deserves. It's kind of inherently complicated being around each other at all, but the sex... doesn't have to be. He knows he's capable of focusing on just that, on letting Sharkface get it over with the way he'd prefer. And as much as he'd rather not they kind of have to, for the time being. They don't have the luxury of taking it slow.

He breathes out, then shakes his head. ]

It doesn't.

[ It doesn't sound like he's ecstatic about that, but he's not upset either. Just stating a fact. ]

Okay.

[ Sharkface swallows hard, meeting Drake's eyes. ]

It was okay last time. Wasn't it?

Yeah, of course it was.

[ He smiles faintly, taking a step forward. ]

If there's anything you'd want to be different about it you should probably tell me, though. I don't want to go too far if you let me guess.

[ Sharkface nods slowly, watching Drake. After a moment, he steps forward as well. Closing the gap. ]

I'd -

[ He hesitates. ]

I don't want to take my clothes off.

[ Not that he did last time, but. ]

That's fine. Anything else?

[ He hesitates, then clarifies. ]

Can I touch you?

[ Sharkface twitches, touching his knuckles to his mouth. This used to be easier. He liked being with other people. Making them smile, finding out what made them feel good. And now -

It feels hard. And it shouldn't. ]

If you go slow.

[ He says it quietly. ]

I can do that.

[ He reaches out, taking Sharkface's hand and rubbing his thumb over the other man's knuckles. ]

You can tell me if it's too much, okay?

[ Oh. Sharkface shivers, good eye going wide, but he doesn't flinch away from Drake. The touch is soft. It doesn't hurt.

It doesn't hurt. His throat goes very tight. He nods, suddenly unable to speak. ]

[ Sharkface doesn't pull away, doesn't even flinch this time, and Drake smiles softly. Progress. ]

Come on.

[ He uses the gentle hold to tug Sharkface forward, out of the kitchen and towards the bedroom door. It's loose enough that he can pull free if he wants, but he figures the contact is something of a warmup. ]

[ Okay. They're doing this. Sharkface takes a deep breath, then lets it go. He follows Drake and tries to pretend it feels easy, natural. And it wasn't bad last time. Pieces of it were good. Pieces of it almost felt like before, when he was Ephemera for real. Like there wasn't all this weight hanging over both of them.

They can pretend for a little while, can't they?

Sharkface swallows hard, squeezing Drake's hand. Gentle, to start. That feels like the right way. ]

[ They're doing... something. Drake knows how touch starved Sharkface is, and is hoping he can nudge things a little further without pushing for his sake. Not just his own. He leads the other man into his room just like the last time, drawing him in with the hand he's squeezing. That's promising. He smiles encouragingly as the gap between them closes and takes care to telegraph his movements.

His free hand comes up and settles on Sharkface's chest, light but there, and he leans in to touch their foreheads together. Just like before, so hopefully familiar. ]

Just breathe.

[ Breathe. Hah. Drake closes the distance between them, his hand resting against Sharkface's chest. And then -

Sharkface shivers, closing his good eye. He leans into the gesture, nuzzling against Drake. Wanting the closeness even as it scares him. The weight of it. The implications.

It could be simple, couldn't it?

Sharkface reaches out and puts his hand on Drake's arm, squeezing. He breathes out slow. ]

[ There you go, Drake thinks to himself, just relax. He nuzzles back gently, just trying to get the other man used to this. To being close again. To being able to trust someone being so close.

When he can feel Sharkface's pulse level out a bit he slides his hand up, to his shoulder and then his neck, touch soft but protective. He happens to be on the scarred side, but knows it won't hurt. Just feel a little less intense, maybe. They stand like that for another minute, going slow and easy. ]

Can I kiss you?

[ He still has sensation under the scars. Not as much, but enough to know when he's being touched. Whether it's meant to wound or not. And this is -

It's a lot. It's heavy in a way Sharkface doesn't always know how to weather and he hates how his breath hitches, how close it comes to a flinch.

But it's a comfort too, in a strange way. Tied up in too many emotions to name, but a comfort nonetheless.

He breathes out. He settles. ]

Yeah.

[ His voice comes out rough. ]

[ Drake isn't trying to make this heavy, but showing Sharkface that contact with him isn't something to fear or expect pain from is probably going to be. He knows that. But the other man seems to settle again -- breathe -- and consents to kissing, which seems like the best case scenario. Drake just hopes he isn't pushing himself.

The kiss is soft but sure, Drake keeping things light for the moment. He squeezes Sharkface's hand encouragingly, and sucks very gently on his bottom lip. Thinking that maybe, just maybe, if the other man likes it this could become something more mutual. ]

[ It's hard to focus, to know what he's supposed to be doing here. Sharkface shivers again, squeezing Drake's hand. He doesn't kiss Drake back, but he doesn't pull away either. Maybe that's enough.

Probably not, though.

He closes his good eye and presses their foreheads together, leaning against Drake. The closeness feels good, at least. Like something he'd like to keep. ]

[ It's not encouraging, but not exactly discouraging either. Sharkface doesn't pull away. That's something, but Drake does stop kissing him. He squeezes back instead, letting the forehead touch linger and taking the other man's weight easily.

It's something, he tells himself. And not a small thing, either. It's trust. Just... maybe not attraction, or a willingness to let himself feel it? Not yet. He won't let himself worry it'll never happen.

If nothing else, he's pretty sure the closeness is welcome, and that's a place to start. ]

Lie down with me? Just that.

[ Sharkface opens his good eye and watches Drake for a moment. It simpler last time. closer to transactional. This isn't.

Breathe. Just -

Breathe.

He swallows hard, then nods. ]

Okay.

[ Like before, his voice comes out rough. He leans in and kisses Drake briefly before he can think about it too much. Not hard, but enough to feel. ]

[ Drake smiles softly at that, letting his hand slip down from Sharkface's neck in something that's almost a caress.

Then he steps back towards the bed, climbing on and scooting to the far side to make room. They can lie down and relax a little, get used to being close to each other, just touching. It might help. ]

C'mere.

[ Sharkface hesitates for a moment, then kneels down and unlaces his boots. Deliberately, he steps out of them. Pushes them into a straight line. He leaves his socks on. It feels better that way, somehow. Like armor.

Breathe.

He watches Drake for a moment, his throat tight. Does it make it worse that Drake is the sort of handsome that Sharkface wants to draw? That his smile is so -

Sharkface twitches. Takes a deep breath, and then lets it go.

He moves. Lies down stiffly next to Drake and reaches out a hand to touch Drake's arm. Lightly, to start. ]

[ Drake settles on his side, facing Sharkface with his head propped up on his arm. The touch is welcome, but the other man is tense enough that Drake's going to let him ease up before touching back just yet. ]

It's okay. Tell me more about the jump with those black cliffs.

[ Sharkface blinks, surprised. ]

You want to hear about that?

[ Drake nods, like it's the most natural thing in the world to ask about. ]

Yeah. It's something that makes you happy.

[ He doesn't respond immediately, running his fingers along Drake's arm. Breathe, he reminds himself. Just breathe. ]

It was a bad drop. Huge fucking mess. Locals were Insurrectionists, or close to it, and they hated our guts. Command was on this diplomacy kick. Wanted a win they could put in the news. Humanity coming together and all that shit.

[ It's supposed to be a good story, though. And here he is focusing on the bad. Sharkface exhales. ]

Anyway, command told us to drop in, try and get whoever was still alive to an extraction zone. Locals were hiding in these caves by the water. Couldn't land a pelican down there, not with terrain that rough, so we did a free jump. We were expecting shitty weather. Lot of rain, lot of wind. It was gonna be a rough jump.

[ Sharkface huffs, giving Drake a faint smile. ]

Storm broke while we were in the air. Sun came out and those cliffs, man. They were shining so bright you couldn't look at them directly. But I could see them reflected off the water as we were going down. Never seen anything like it. Like an oil slick, shining in the sun.

It was a bad drop all around. But that, that was good.

[ Drake shifts a little closer during the story, just getting Sharkface used to the proximity. It does sound beautiful, even if it was a bad drop. He had no way of knowing. ]

I didn't mean to ask about a bad one, sorry -- tell me about your favorite? Unless you don't feel like talking anymore.

[ Casually, as if it's the most natural thing in the world, he drapes his arm over Sharkface. Just to see what the response is, if he's ready for a little more contact or not. ]

[ Most of the stories he knows are bad, Sharkface thinks. He could tell Drake about his family, but that only ends one way. They're gone. Most people he knows are gone now. Maybe he doesn't have any good stories left.

Sharkface breathes out and leans in to press his forehead to Drake's. It's answer enough, he hopes. ]

[ It's answer enough. Drake hums softly, leaning into the contact and sliding his hand up the other man's side in what he hopes is a soothing manner. ]

It's okay.

[ Sharkface shivers, closing his good eye. He used to be good at this sort of thing, once. Touching people. Knowing how to be around them. How to tell stories that don't end with awful things. He thinks that part of him might have died, and he fears what rose in its place is inadequate to the task.

But it feels good to press close to Drake. To match his breathing.

Sharkface takes a shuddering breath, and then another. Maybe if he stops talking, if he just focuses on the physical, then it won't feel so heavy.

Maybe then it'll be okay.

He squeezes Drake's arm, trying to force himself to focus. It's fine. Or it can be, if he holds it together and doesn't make it complicated. ]

[ Drake scoots in again so they're fully against each other, and strokes the other man's back in time with their breathing. Slow and steady.

He waits until Sharkface seems to ease up a bit before brushing their noses together, telegraphing what he'd like and waiting to see what he does about it. ]

[ Breathe. Stay focused. Sharkface presses his forehead to Drake's and exhales.

Okay. They're okay.

He leans in and kisses the man. Not hard. ]

[ Drake kisses back, keeping it soft for now even if he can't ignore the thrill that rushes through him at the fact Sharkface initiated. It doesn't necessarily mean anything, doesn't mean he wants any of this, but he seems to be getting more comfortable with it. That's the first step to letting himself enjoy it too, right? ]

[ This part is familiar, or it ought to be. He knows how it goes, the give and take of it. He used to like it. Learning how people move, what they liked, how he could make them feel good. It feels harder now. Like something he could do wrong.

Breathe. It doesn’t have to be bad.

Sharkface shivers a little, drawing back to try and read Drake’s expression. ]

Is this okay?

[ It's a little heartbreaking the way that Sharkface asks that, combined with his overall hesitance. It's like he's afraid of doing something wrong. Drake strokes his back again, bending up his other arm between them to trail his fingertips along Sharkface's jaw. ]

It's good. You don't have to worry so much, just... feel.

[ Sharkface shivers, tipping his head back even though he knows it exposes his throat. He watches Drake and wonders what this would be like if it was more of a choice. If there wasn't a quota hanging over both of them. Maybe he could pretend, for a little while. ]

Okay.

[ Just feel. Forget the rest. Sharkface runs his hand over Drake's arm again, then - very carefully - shifts it over to Drake's chest. Resting over his heart. ]

[ Not too long ago Drake's pulse would have been hard to detect, but now it's beating steadily under Sharkface's hand. He waits to see what happens, what the intent behind the touch was, lying still and patient. ]

[ Drake's heartbeat is strong and steady. Sharkface spreads his fingers wide, feeling it out. Memorizing the rhythm. It gives him something to follow, a way to center himself. He thinks that might matter.

Breathe. Okay.

Sharkface leans in and presses his forehead to Drake's. He slides his hand down Drake's chest, over his stomach. And then, slowly, lower. ]

[ Oh, they're... okay. Drake's breathing hitches in anticipation as the other man's hand slides low on his stomach, his hips just barely rocking forward before he catches himself. Stay still. Don't be so eager. Unless that would help? In the end he bites his lip and steadies himself, leaning into the forehead touch instead.

Part of him is screaming to stop it happening this way again, that it should be mutual, but the rest knows that he can't push and that they need to do this. It'll be okay. ]

[ Okay. No mistaking that, is there? Sharkface smiles a little, weakly, and rests his hand on Drake's stomach. Following the line of Drake's hip with his thumb, feeling it out. Slower this time. More careful. ]

Slow?

[ His voice is rough. Sharkface swallows to clear it. His stomach tightens. Drake looks good, like this. Really good. ]

Or - ?

[ Drake breathes out, then grins sheepishly. It's never taken much to get him going. ]

I'm not picky. Whatever you're comfortable with.

[ His hand slides down Sharkface's back, settling on his waist hesitantly. ]

[ That smile is going to do things to him, Sharkface thinks, breathing out slow. He shivers at the touch but doesn't pull back from it. Pieces of it feels good. He bumps his head against Drake's again, gentle, and presses closer. ]

I like it slower.

[ Or he does this time, with this man. It's true, strangely. He doesn't - he doesn't let himself think this way anymore. Doesn't let himself want like this. But he does, now. Does that make it better, or just more complicated.

Sharkface leans in and kisses Drake on the cheek. Light, gentle. And he slides his hand lower, curling his fingers. Trying to catch the moment that Drake's breathing changes. ]

[ Don't let yourself hope, Drake tells himself, and you won't be disappointed. But it's almost impossible not to when Sharkface shivers and presses in closer, then kisses him on the cheek. It's sweet, and makes him think there's more to this than the quota. That maybe the other man actually likes him a little, even if he's not ready for this to be more than one sided.

His smile broadens a little and he nods -- slower is fine. What he usually prefers, though he doesn't say it. Just closes his eyes and focuses on the touch, on the way his stomach jumps when Sharkface's hand slides lower. And it's still a novelty when his pulse speeds up, breath shuddering as he struggles to keep still. ]

[ He can feel everything like this. All of it. The moment that Drake's breathing shifts. How his heartbeat jumps. Sharkface huffs a little, smiling.

Maybe he'd missed this. ]

I got you.

[ He works his fingers slow, feeling Drake out. Pressing this thumb to the head. Slow. ]

[ Drake makes a vague affirmative sound that's more moan than not, his fingers curling against Sharkface's waist. The truth is that the words are more of a turn on than the touch -- something he's heard so often in that voice, low and honest. ]

Can I kiss you again? Please.

[ Sharkface peers at Drake as he works his hand. It feels like there's a whole lifetime of things he's missing, that he never knew in the first place. But this? This feels good. Not much has, recently.

He nods. Leans into it. ]

[ Fuck, that feels amazing. Drake shudders, leaning in for another kiss. He's a little bolder this time, his other hand cupping Sharkface's jaw and tongue flicking out to tease at his bottom lip. He's behaving otherwise, his grip loose on Sharkface's waist, but can't help encouraging the encounter somehow. ]

[ Oh. Sharkface shivers all over, his mouth parting slightly. He wants -

He doesn't know. More, maybe.

Just more.

Sharkface moves his hand. Working Drake slow. He wants to hear it. Feel it. All of it. ]

Fuck.

[ It's said softly. He wants. ]

[ Encouraging it is, then. Drake gives a breathless little moan when their lips part, his hips rocking into Sharkface's hand helplessly. ]

It's... mm, it's okay. C'mere.

[ Then he's chasing after the other man's mouth to deepen the kiss. He hopes he's reading this right, but if he's not it'll be clear enough in a second. ]

[ Sharkface closes his good eye, shuddering. He makes a small sound and presses against Drake. Almost clinging.

This time, he kisses Drake back. Hesitantly, carefully. But he does it. ]

[ That's more of a turn on than anything they've done so far, that little hint that Sharkface is enjoying this too. He twitches in the other man's hand, grip tightening just slightly.

Slow, he reminds himself, focusing on the kiss, on the way Sharkface is holding him. Slow and deep, for as long as he's allowed. They wind up breaking for air and Drake immediately presses their foreheads together again, almost overwhelmed by the intensity of feelings he's having. ]

[ They kiss. They kiss and it's good and it's almost too much. Sharkface makes another small sound, feeling lost. He wants to pull back or cling even tighter, and the two impulses war together inside of him. Churning under his skin.

Sharkface bites off a moan, clinging to Drake. He presses his forehead to Drake's and shudders. ]

Please.

[ He doesn't know what he's saying. What he wants. The word is out before he can take it back. ]

[ The world has narrowed down to this, to them in the same bed kissing and touching and Sharkface begging him for something that Drake is both excited by and terrified to get wrong. He struggles for composure and falls just a little short, his voice coming out in a breathless rush. ]

Can I touch you?

[ He remembers the no clothes off rule, but they don't have to come off. His fingers tease at the bottom of Sharkface's shirt just at his waistband, waiting for permission. ]

[ Oh. Sharkface makes a small sound, pressing his forehead to Drake's. Wanting comfort, wanting something like stability. The closeness feels good, like something worth holding onto. Drake's hand is at his shirt, hovering there like a promise.

Fuck. Sharkface swallows hard. He works Drake slowly, wanting it to last. ]

Yeah. If you want.

[ His voice is small then. Rough. ]

[ The hand on him is distracting, but Drake is determined. He bites his lip for focus and nods a little, their heads still touching, and slides his fingertips under Sharkface's shirt. He already knows all the other man's sensitive spots but this feels like the first time again, so he treats it that way. A caress skims up to Sharkface's ribs and back down to his stomach, light and teasing and hopefully getting him used to being touched again before he goes more interesting places. ]

[ Oh, fuck. Sharkface shudders hard, curling in on himself. It doesn't hurt. He thinks maybe it should. He'd know how to handle it then, how to react. But there's no pain and his skin feels like it's going to vibrate off his bones. Sharkface presses against Drake, working him a little faster. A little harder. He presses his face into Drake's shoulder, hiding. Trying to center himself.

It's a lot, all of a sudden. ]

Whoa-- ahh, hey--

[ Drake stills his own hand, squirming both at the sudden change of pace and so he can use his other to cradle Sharkface's head against his shoulder, covering the implant protectively. ]

Ephemera? Slow down, it's okay. You're okay.

[ His breath comes out in a rush. Sharkface shifts to put his arm around Drake, pulling them closer. He just wants to hold him. Be held. It's too much, suddenly. He tries to slow his breathing, to match Drake's, and focus on the hand on the back of his skull. The way the implant is protected. The way he's protected, now.

Breathe. It's okay. ]

I'm sorry.

[ He slows his hand, taking another shuddering breath. ]

I just. Want it to be good.

[ Oh. He wasn't speeding up just to get it over with -- that's promising, at least. Drake ducks his head to press a kiss to Sharkface's hair, hand slipping out from under the his shirt to stop his attentions. Just for a little break. It's keeping them from a proper hug -- he guides Sharkface's arm around him and scoots in so they're pressed full body against each other, stroking the other man's back over his shirt. ]

It's good. I'm just more worried I pushed you, I'm sorry.

[ It had seemed like he was into it this time, and Drake so desperately wants it to be mutual that he might have rushed him. So for now he's just going to hold Sharkface, let the moment settle. ]

[ This used to be easy. Fooling around with other people, touching them. Not thoughtless - never thoughtless - but something joyful, something good. It feels unfair, suddenly, that it isn’t anymore. That he loses his shit so easily even with someone he trusts.

Funny, that. The irony burns bitter under his skin.

Sharkface presses against Drake, taking a shuddering breath. Trying to calm himself. To be steady. Drake is solid, real. When he smiles, it meets his eyes. Sharkface thinks he’d like painting Drake one day. He’s sketched him quietly, though not in person. And now -

What is he supposed to do now?

He takes another breath. Lets it go. He presses against Drake and wonders what the hell he's supposed to do now. He ought to get it over with, do his best to make it good, but instead he just wants to cling. To hold Drake close and match his breathing.

Maybe slow is better. It felt good, didn’t it? Even last time, there were pieces of it that felt good. That stuck with him in the aftermath.

His stomach twists. He’s half hard. It hasn’t been like this for a long time. ]

’s okay.

[ He’d like it to be, at least. ]

Edited 2021-05-06 14:58 (UTC)

[ For a long moment they just hold each other quietly, Sharkface clinging and Drake rubbing his back. Pressed together like this he can feel that the other man is half hard, but he's not going to do anything about it just yet. ]

You don't have to apologize with me, either. Not for this.

[ If nothing else, Drake is extraordinarily patient. He'll be ready to go again pretty much whenever, so it's a small thing to lie here giving some comfort for his own mistake. Or was it? It seemed like Sharkface liked it, just wasn't sure what to do with that. ]

We can try again or not, this time. That's up to you.

[ He says it softly into the other man's hair. ]

[ There's something about Drake, isn't there? Something good, solid. Sharkface rests his hand on Drake's back, spreading his fingers wide. Just resting his hand there for a moment, breathing.

Sharkface exhales. He doesn't think he could do this with anyone else. Not right now. Maybe not ever. ]

Slow.

[ He swallows hard, drawing back just enough to meet Drake's eyes. ]

Yeah?

[ Drake lets him pull back, smiling gently. He can do slow. What matters is that Sharkface doesn't want to stop just yet. If they can get him past this he'll have a much easier time here, sure, but also... it feels important. That the other man is letting him do this. ]

Slow.

[ He stays just as he is, pressed close and protectively covering Sharkface's neck, but the hand on his back slides back down to the hem of his shirt. This time when his fingers slip underneath it's just barely, stroking his waist. Keeping away from the scars for now. He knows where they all are. ]

[ This time he's ready for it, or at least prepared, and Sharkface only breathes out when Drake touches him. It's light, barely anything on balance. Earlier, it felt like a live wire. Like something that would twist through him. Wrench him.

Sharkface takes a deep breath. Lets it go. The hand on the back of his neck stands as a comfort, something steadying. A sign of protection. Trust.

He leans in and kisses Drake again. Slow. Like he said. ]

[ The kiss is actually unexpected but Drake responds in kind, slow and gentle. He has to temper the happiness he feels at the fact that Sharkface would lean in to kiss him again, and very tentatively slides his hand further up with the hopes that it's distracting in a good way. Just a light caress over the other man's ribs, not yet daring to touch his chest. ]

[ His breath hitches, but he doesn't flinch. He's ready for it this time. It doesn't hit quite so hard. Drake's hands are gentle. The touch is light, ghosting over his ribs. Not his scars, though.

That helps, he thinks. Having that distance.

Carefully, slowly, he rests his hand on Drake's hip. Curls it there, and kisses him again. ]

[ Feeling emboldened by the reactions he's getting, Drake slides his hand higher -- still dodging the scars as best he can from memory, but heading towards more interesting places. Sharkface is still kissing, and he can feel the other man's hand on his hip. Not yet, he thinks, give yourself a chance.

He rests his hand over Sharkface's heart for a moment, feeling it beat, letting him get used to the skin to skin touch... then skims to the side to run his fingertips over a nipple curiously. ]

[ Sharkface goes very still at that, bowing his head. The shivery feeling settles under his skin. It churns there, edging onto too much. But he breathes, and Drake goes slow, and it settles.

He breathes. ]

Just - slow.

[ His voice is rough. He swallows hard and presses a little closer, holding Drake tight. ]

[ Drake smiles quietly, pressing a kiss to the top of Sharkface's bowed head. ]

Slow.

[ He says it like a promise, and it is one. The other man is clinging to him tight enough he can feel that he's affected by it, but it's not something they need to tend to right away. Instead he just keeps going slowly, his thumb stroking until the little nub of flesh under his hand hardens to a point and he hears Sharkface's breath hitch... but he doesn't pull away. Drake rolls it between his fingers gently, just trying to give him more stimulation. So he gets used to the rush of it, knows that it's safe.

His other hand never leaves Sharkface's neck. ]

[ This used to be easy. Not thoughtless - never thoughtless - but easy, and the knowledge that it isn't anymore settles sharp and cold in his chest. Before, when he was Ephemera, he could have made it easy. They could have laughed together. Made each other feel good. Sharkface twitches, his breath coming a little quicker. Because it does feel good, still. Not many things do these days.

Drake rests his hand on Sharkface's neck, steadying. And Sharkface does his best to breathe through it. To stay present, stay with this man.

Fuck, he thinks. Fuck. He ought to be doing something more. Making it good, or maybe just getting it over with. They have a quota now. There are stakes. Consequences.

But it feels good just to be held, for a moment.

Just a moment.

He breathes out slow and lifts his head just enough to press a kiss Drake's neck, right over his pulse point. ]

[ Drake lets out a shuddering sigh at the kiss, tipping his head back and keeping his hand moving. Slowly, so it's easy to telegraph the caresses. He's patient in general but especially with this. They'll get there eventually, and in the meantime he's enjoying the closeness -- that he's allowed to touch this man in this way, to hold him and help as much as he can. And it will help, if they can get him past his aversion to being touched, considering the nature of this place. ]

You doing okay?

[ Sharkface shivers a little. Okay always felt like a relative thing. Are you functional? Can you fight? And he could fight if he had to. He'll always fight.

Not here, though. Not now.

Fuck. He presses against Drake, breathing out. ]

It's. A lot.

[ Drake hums his understanding, fingertips skimming gently down Sharkface's sternum as he speaks again. ]

I know. But in a good way maybe?

[ He can feel the other man against him, half-hard and shivering. Struggling to cope with it but still not pulling back. There has to be something to that, right? ]

[ Sharkface bites off a groan, sitting with that for a moment before he answers. ]

Some of it.

[ More than he expected. ]

I don't know. Yes. No.

Tell me.

[ Drake's voice is soft, gentle. ]

What parts are good, what's bad?

[ That twists in him. The question. Because he has to put it to words now, doesn't it? Explain himself. Account for the crazy.

This used to be easy. And now it's not.

Sharkface twitches. He shifts to run his hand down Drake's back, slow and steady. ]

You feel good.

[ This part, being close to him. That feels good. ]

But it -

It used to be easy.

...I get it. But it can be again. If you give yourself time.

[ It hadn't been easy at first the last time around, either, when they'd had months to get used to being around each other beforehand. Of course this is going to be rough. ]

If you want me to stop, I'll stop. But you're doing great.

[ That sits with him for a moment. Settles under his skin. A kindness, perhaps. Sharkface draws back just enough to meet Drake's gaze, watching him carefully. ]

Can we just...

[ He swallows. ]

Can I make you come, and then we can just...be, for a little while?

[ Drake nods at that, genuinely (surprisingly even to himself) not disappointed -- they made progress. ]

Yeah. Hang on.

[ He reclaims his hand from under Sharkface's shirt, smoothing it back down for him before sitting up and pulling his shirt over his head. He doesn't really want to stain it. It's dropped to the floor beside the bed and then he's settling back down, scooting in enough to press his forehead to Sharkface's again, nuzzling gently. ]

Go for it.

[ He's only half-hard at this point but it won't take much to get him going again. Especially if they start kissing again. ]

[ Sharkface closes his good eye, pressing his forehead to Drake's. Even now, there's a part of him that just wants the closeness. To press close to Drake and let the rest go. But there's still the quota hanging over both of them. This way, they have some safety. Some breathing room. Okay.

Okay.

He kisses Drake, a little softer than before, and slides his free hand down between them. He follows the liens of Drake's stomach for a moment before shifting to grip him again. Work him. ]

[ Drake shudders at the first touch, even before Sharkface's hand is wrapped around him, and kisses back just as gently. Not trying to work him up this time, just wanting the intimacy of it. He sets his hand back on the other man's waist to have something to hold on to and rocks his hips, kind of just wanting it over with now himself. Both the release and so it's not hanging over them, so they can just cuddle. It does feel good, though. ]

[ Sharkface breathes out slow, listening to Drake as they kiss. They're close enough now that he can feel everything. The small changes. The way that Drake shudders even before Sharkface puts it to a rhythm. And he wonders if maybe one day they couldn't move together, really move together.

Maybe. Wouldn't that be something?

He leans in and kisses Drake again. A little deeper this time, a little longer, and he lets it linger. ]

[ Drake moans into the deeper kiss, his fingers curling against Sharkface's side as the other man picks up the pace. It might not be everything he wants for them, but it still feels fantastic. And the way that Sharkface kisses is familiar, enough that Drake can imagine the times he had with Ephemera, the times it was mutual. Easy. He believes they'll get there but thinking about it helps now. ]

[ Breathe out, Sharkface reminds. And don't get lost. It was harder earlier. Fraught. It feels less so now. They've had some time, some practice, and Drake feels good like this. The way he sounds, how he moves when Sharkface touches him. ]

Fuck.

[ His voice comes out softer than before. ]

You - you can. You can let go.

[ That gets a soft, breathless laugh -- it's not exactly like he was holding back, but Sharkface is right. He's close, shifting restlessly in the other man's grip, meeting each stroke as the pressure builds. A few more strokes and he does come with a shuddering moan, pressing in close.

It takes him a moment to remember to breathe again, but his higher brain function returns slowly. He can feel the mess between them, and personally doesn't mind it but lazily rolls onto his back to grab some tissues from the nightstand. ]

You're good at that.

[ There's something deeply, immensely satisfying about making another person come. Sharkface takes a slow, shaky breath, and tries to commit that sound Drake made to memory. Fucking hell.

His hand's sticky. He really doesn't care.

Sharkface huffs a little. ]

Still got it.

[ Drake grins at him, wiping off his stomach and passing the other man a few fresh tissues for his hand. He's guessing they're not getting up right away, and so tucks himself back into his pants and rolls to face Sharkface again. He feels loose and relaxed, perfect for cuddling. ]

You're staying, right?

[ He'd said they could just 'be' but not for how long. ]

[ Sharkface cleans his hand off and just watches Drake, his expression soft and fond. Then he presses a little closer, settling against him. ]

Yeah.

[ It's said softly. He thinks -

He thinks that would be okay. For a little while. ]

[ Drake's grin broadens at that, lighting his eyes. He drapes an arm over Sharkface, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek and then dropping his head back to the pillow. ]

Thank you. I can loan you something to sleep in.

[ Sharkface smiles faintly at the kiss. It's sweet, he thinks. Before, he knows he would have flinched away from it. ]

Okay.

[ This part, at least, doesn't have to be complicated. They can just - be, together. Share space. Hold each other. ]

[ He catches the smile, which is cute enough it makes him want to kiss the other man properly again, but he behaves. Smiles back and bends up the arm trapped between them to stroke his fingertips over the curve of it on Sharkface's unscarred side fondly. ]

Maybe we'll both sleep a little easier.

[ Sharkface sighs, reaching out to put his hand on Drake's arm. Gentle, but there. ]

That'd be nice.

[ Drake glances over Sharkface's shoulder to the clock on that nightstand -- it's actually getting kind of late. He hums, then leans in for another peck and forces himself to get up so they can change. ]

Better grab sleep stuff before we get too comfortable. You want sleeves?

[ Sharkface blinks, surprised. But then he remembers that Drake knew that other version of him. Knows those details. ]

Yeah. Thank you.

[ He prefers sleeping in long sleeves, when he's got the chance. He gets cold. And it occurs to Sharkface then that this will be the first time he's slept in an actual bed in many years. He's been given one in the room he shares back in the Down, but he sleeps on the floor. It feels safer that way. Smarter. And he wonders if he'll be able to manage it here.

Maybe. He could try, couldn't he? ]

'Course.

[ There's a little rummaging, then Drake's coming back with clothes for them both. He usually sleeps in very little but for Sharkface's sake he'll put on a tank and pants. The outfit he tosses over has a long sleeved shirt, though, soft enough to sleep in.

He fully expects Sharkface to retreat to the bathroom to change, but doesn't bother for himself -- his dick was just in the other man's hand and he's still shirtless, he figures it's no big deal to switch pants in front of him. ]

[ Shark stands up slowly, accepting the clothes. They're clean. Soft. A comfort, he thinks. In prison he'd go around shirtless because at least his tattoos and his scars could serve as armor. It gave him distance. Here, he doesn't need to pull that trick.

He watches Drake for a moment, then strips off his shirt and begins changing. Why not? It's not like any of this is a surprise. He has trouble with touch, still, but bodies are bodies. ]

[ Oh. That's a surprise, honestly -- Drake isn't sure if it means Sharkface is comfortable with him by any measure, but hey. It's a nice view. He pulls on his own sleep pants and tugs the tank over his head, then pulls back the covers on the bed and climbs back in, still watching the other man. When he's done, Drake pats the spot next to him invitingly. ]

[ Sharkface hesitates for a moment, folding his street clothes up. ]

I'm going to take my eye out. Flush it.

[ And then maybe try to sleep. That'd be something, wouldn't it? If he could get some decent sleep next to another person. Or maybe just next to Drake, who feels -

Safe. ]

[ Drake nods, he's obviously fine with it being out. ]

Sure... is it any more comfortable than your old one?

[ Oh. Another thing Drake knows. Sharkface hesitates a moment, then shakes his head. ]

It just itches sometimes. I’ve got scar tissue there.

[ Drake nods, gesturing towards the bathroom. ]

Go ahead. I'll be here.

[ He hesitates for another moment, then nods and ducks into the bathroom. It doesn't take long, in the end. He takes his eye out, flushes it, splashes some water on his face. Gives himself a long look in the mirror. Not for the first time, he wonders what he's doing. Where it's all headed. There's a part of him that wants it to remain strictly practical, a choice made to endure. That, he could take. That, he thinks, would be simple.

But it's not. Drake isn't.

Breathe.

Sharkface exhales and heads back out. He wavers for a moment and then lies back down next to Drake, gingerly. ]

I don't usually sleep in beds.

[ Drake smiles gently when Sharkface comes back, but when he comments on not sleeping in beds a hint of sadness creeps into his expression. He's remembering Ephemera and his dozens of pillows crowding them, how much the other man loved indulging in softness after so long without it. And now they're back at the start of it all, and he's thinking of all the things Sharkface doesn't love yet. Pillows. Him. It's... rough, but he scoots back in slowly, telegraphing his movements, and tells himself it'll be okay one way or another. However this turns out. ]

It might take some getting used to, but I think you'll like it.

[ He drapes an arm over the other man, wanting to tell him so many things. But what he settles on, his voice soft and almost shy, is: ]

You're safe with me.

[ Sharkface shifts a little so he can meet Drake's gaze, can see what's in his expression. His eyes. Sometimes Sharkface doesn't have the words for things, or knows that he reads people wrong. That's hurt him before. He's made mistakes. Trusted too easily.

But there's honesty there. Sincerity. Whatever else happens, he believes that Drake means what he says.

Sharkface takes a slow breath, trying to settle. ]

I know.

[ It's said softly. He believes that, at least. He has someone to watch his back while he sleeps. ]

[ It's a relief how honest Sharkface sounds in return. Like he actually believes it. Drake tilts his head forward to bump their foreheads together, then snuggles down more comfortably. ]

Just shove me off if you get too warm, okay?

[ Sharkface huffs a little. It feels so -

Normal. ]

Okay.

[There's no denying that she is a little curious after their brief conversation. It is one of the reasons that Padmé did accept, that, and she does find Drake surprisingly easy to talk to. It's taken a little time for her to make her way to the Up, but there does come a knock on his door as she waits outside of it.]

[ The smell of cooking has drifted into the landing outside, and only grows stronger when Drake opens the door for her. ]

Padme. Welcome back.

[ He smiles and steps back to let her in, then holds out a hand. ]

I can take your jacket.

Thank you for having me again.

[Her stomach gives a little rumble as she catches the scent of what's cooking within. Padmé can cook to survive, but by no means would she want to survive off of her own cooking, although it would still be an upgrade on what is provided in the Down.]

It smells wonderful.

[Slipping her coat off and handing it to him.]

[ Her coat gets hung on a hook by the door and then he's gesturing for Padme to follow him back to the kitchen, where there are currently vegetables roasting and onions caramelizing in a pan. He's got two steaks out, ready to be seared off. ]

I was waiting for you to put these on... it's been a couple years since I had one, myself.

[She gives a glance around, having been there before, before following him back towards the kitchen. It is a stark contrast from her own residence, although Padmé also knows that it's done on purpose. It doesn't mean she's just going to follow their rules to get a softer bed or nicer items.]

Oh? They didn't have them where you were?

[Or did it have something to do with the undead statement in his biography blurb.]

[ Drake shakes his head, putting another pan on and turning up the heat. ]

They didn't. But I would've been wasting them anyway, I couldn't really taste anything while I was... a zombie.

[ He glances back at Padme to see if she recognizes that word. ]

[She takes a moment to consider that word, running it through her memory. It isn't a term that Padmé can say rings any bells for her though.]

And you're not... a zombie anymore?

I'm not. I got cured in the last world I was in... technically, the gods made me a new body that wasn't infected. Undead isn't exactly accurate but it's the traditional view of zombies.

[ He sizes up the way she's frowning. ]

You don't know what that is, though, do you?

[She knows that there are mechanical replacements in her own galaxy, that can be used when someone loses a leg, or a hand, like her husband. A whole new body though? Well, there are the Clones, but that is one person cloned, and each is their own person, whether the Republic actually seems them like that.

She shakes her head though.]

I'm not certain we have something like that where I come from. A variety of different beings in all sorts of different forms.

...this is going to be a lot more to explain, then. Uhm.

[ He frowns, wondering if he should start with his condition or the traditional view. ]

So in my world, there's the fiction of zombies and the reality, and they're pretty different. But they have one terrible characteristic in common that led to us calling ourselves that. Really, we're infected with a virus that causes certain physical changes. The biggest one being that we have to eat human brains to keep our humanity.

[ Maybe he should see how that lands before continuing. ]

[Undead she could understand, at least the word. Based on what Padmé knows, one is either alive, or dead. If the galaxy holds other mysteries, she isn't privy to them, not that she loses sleep over that. She has always tried her best to do her best, to help others less fortunate than her, and it's been good enough.]

So this virus... Alters you.

[She knows of being sick, of course, and that there are any number of illnesses, sicknesses and viruses in the world. But eating brains?]

And if you don't, you... turn feral?

That's accurate, yeah. Unfortunately.

[ Now for the broader cultural interpretation. ]

There's the fiction of it too, where we got the name from... zombies are mindless reanimated corpses that eat brains. Which is kind of what happens if you starve, so.

I know it's gross. But it's what I had to do to survive for a long time.

I mean, different cultures eat all different manner of foods.

[She know some that eat the brains or hooves of creatures. There's bug and other plants, like algae, that Padmé wouldn't go out of her way to try. Although they are creatures raised for food or insects, not human. That is perhaps the part that is confusing to her.]

Forgive me, but how exactly do you get brains?

[ Not usually their own species, for obvious reasons. :( ]

At home, through a funeral parlour. In Hadriel, one of the gods created them magically for me.

[It was better than she may have thought, in a way, at least. While she can understand that it is something that he apparently needs to eat, it could well have been a very different answer that he gave.]

Were you happy then, to get your new body?

Extremely. Life as a zombie sucks, and not just because of the dietary restriction. I couldn't have survived here as one, that's for sure.

[ He puts the steaks on and opens the oven slightly to peek at the vegetables. ]

But that's what my profile was referencing.

I'm sorry you had to go through that.

[Especially as it doesn't seem to be something that he had wanted in his life. A part of her wonders how it had happened, but viruses are typically passed through a variety of different ways, some easier than others. It also isn't something that should just be tossed out there so casually by this place. They really had no boundaries.]

I've been informed since that they like to poke and prod at you with those little biographies. They apparently do it every couple of months.

It's alright. I did a lot of good that way, too, and I don't have to worry about it anymore.

[ He smiles, though it's a little sad. He'd rather have been a zombie in Hadriel than a human here, if it meant he wasn't alone, but. You can't always get what you want, now can you? ]

Yeah, I heard the same. How did yours turn out?

[It's a hint of that sadness that Padmé can catch in his expression. Her hand moves, reaching out, to give a soft brief squeeze on his arm. No doubt there is more there, but it is his story. Stars know that Padmé hasn't shared her whole life story with anyone here.]

I mean, it certainly isn't what I would have written about myself, although I also wouldn't have posted anything.

[ A bit of light comes back into his eyes at the touch, his smile seeming brighter. ]

In my home world, we have dating apps. I might be one of the only people my age who's never written a profile. Honestly, I have no idea what I'd say in one.

I assume that they are voluntary at least...

[If there is such a thing, Padmé has never run across it. Then again, she hadn't dated that much anyway. Her life had always been busy, from princess to queen to senator. That, and the fact that she had secretly wed a Jedi later. No doubt Anakin would have been less than impressed had she posted to them.]

A nice guy who knows how to cook?

They are. And thank you.

[ He turns the steaks over and prods them with the tongs, seeming satisfied. ]

Too bad neither of those things are helping me meet my quota.

[Ah. She understands that. Even with a husband here, Padmé hadn't been too pleased at learning that there was a quota.

She would argue that they would, along with the fact that he is quite handsome as well.]

It's one of many things that isn't fair about this place.

Yeah, society controlling how much someone has sex is just... it's kind of nuts?

[ He shrugs, leaning down to take the vegetables out of the oven while the steaks finish. It wouldn't be a problem if his partner were here, but for now he's on his own. ]

It is. Unfortunately we do need to play by their rules for now.

[There is a tightness on her face as she says that, as she hasn't exactly been doing that. Others, she knows, have found contracts fairly early, even if it was just to ease their way out of the Down and into something slightly better.]

There are ways, or so I've been told.

[Moving slightly to the side to get out of his way.]

Are you certain you don't need a hand with anything?

Ways?

[ He sets the tray down and nods towards a particular cupboard. ]

You can grab us plates. And whatever you want to drink.

Choices, perhaps? There are places, or you can post, or- well, they don't exactly get into preferences with their little shenanigans, other than one's orientation.

[Moving to grab the plates and taken them over to the table.]

[ Drake tilts his head, wondering what she means by places. Brothels? That's really not his style but he can see how it's a good option if you're struggling to meet your quota. Hmm. ]

What kind of preferences would you want them to get into?

Oh. Well. I mean there's always personality, or looks.

[Blondes. Brunettes. Male. Female. Short or tall... She could list any number of different variations.]

I'd say I could see why society wouldn't want to go down that rabbit hole, but they're already pretty deep in it.

Indeed. They seem to have no qualms about anything here, no lines that cannot be crossed.

[ It doesn't take Caleb long at all to get to the location Drake had sent him. In eight months he's gotten to know the city pretty well, moving easily through the crowd while avoiding the SIN guards. The dark clothes he wears blend with the mark on his throat, making it easier for him. On some days.

Today it goes well, and he stops outside the place, looking around for someone that matches the image on the finder. ]

[ Drake is waiting outside, leaning against the wall of the building... this is about when he realizes that they didn't exchange descriptions, and he doesn't even know if he's looking for a Dom or a sub. But he sees a guy lingering outside the building on the other side of the door and decides to take a chance. ]

Are you Caleb, by any chance?

[ Caleb is so glad for Drake's approach, offering a bright smile as he nods eagerly. ]

Drake. Hey, yeah. Thanks for entertaining my questions.

[ He offers his hand. ]

I would say welcome to Duplicity but most hate it here.

[ Drake smiles back; it comes easily and lights his eyes as he reaches to shake Caleb's hand. ]

It's not where I wanted to end up, that's for sure.

[ He tries to keep his displeasure with what goes on here from exploding into 'I hate it' because hey, Hadriel sucked too, but he was still able to make it home. It's not like he can go back to his own world. ]

Should we go in?

[ Caleb can't help but chuckle at that. ]

Wasn't my first, or tenth, choice either but I wouldn't change it.

[He has too much here now, and he isn't ready to lose that if he's ever given a choice.

He moves to grab the door for the other. ]

After you.

I get that.

[ He nods his thanks for Caleb grabbing the door, wondering how it looks to the people around them, what with the other man being a sub. If he's playing in to the culture or if he's overthinking this. Probably the latter... he steps through with another grin. ]

Thanks.

[ They make their way up to the counter and Drake is struck by just how long it's been since he's done anything like this... meet someone for coffee, or a meal, or a date. Just going out somewhere there's service and you pay... he was out of society too long. He glances at Caleb sheepishly. ]

Sorry, I haven't done this in forever -- should we order together?

[ He always feels for people who are new here. It's been nearly a year and for Caleb it feels like longer than that. More than that, he's come to accept it as home, and he has reasons to want to stay but he hates it for the sake of so many.

He glances at Drake, considering that and what the finder had said about him. ]

We can. Works for me. My treat since you are willing to let me be a nosy bastard.

[ He grins at that though, giving them his order. ]

Hah. Alright, thank you.

[ He places his order as well, then steps over to the end of the counter to wait for their drinks. ]

The place I was stuck before this one, there was no service industry. This is kind of nostalgic.

[ He can't help but smile, though it fades slightly, head canting and considering that. ]

So was it just cafeteria style? Provided for everyone?

[ Except for one or two people, most seemed to come from a world that is like his own, so this is the first he's heard of something like this. ]

[ Drake shakes his head -- aside from celebrations, the food wasn't prepared for them. ]

Not cafeteria style, more like there was a pantry. Limited options, but they did provide for everyone.

[ Caleb considers that for a moment, head canting slightly and looking at him for a moment. ]

Is this about the descriptor in your finder post, or was your world like post apocalyptic?

Uh. Both, actually, though it wasn't my home world. I should probably start from the beginning.

[ Their drinks are placed on the counter and Drake picks them up, passing Caleb's to him and nodding towards a table tucked away against the shop window. ]

This isn't my first 'kidnapped to another universe' rodeo.

[Caleb takes his drink with a nod and follows to the table, settling in with his attention on Drake. ]

I know I've heard of some mentioning it but it's still crazy to me. Hell, this place is crazy still to me.

[ He considers that. Does he truly think that still? It can be crazy and he can still want to be in Duplicity. ]

So the whole undead part... that came from this other world?

[ Drake sits, shaking his head. ]

That's from home, actually. And 'undead' isn't really accurate, it's more like... mostly dead? I was infected with something that basically turns people into zombies. Then I died for real and wound up in the other world in that state.

[ He waits for the reaction, having run into someone already who didn't know what a zombie was and needed a whole bunch more explanation. ]

[ Caleb stares at Drake for a minute because the words make sense but there's also the part that just kind of shocks him. ]

Wow, you were infected? And you... I mean, you said you were infected, but were you a zombie? Does that mean mindless brain eater in your world? Because I've dealt with terms meaning different things.

[ He shakes his head, kind of marveling at it. ]

I was thinking you meant vampire with the undead.

I'm sorry though about... hell, all of it. I just can't imagine.

[ There's shock there but no judgement that Drake can see, so he continues, hands around his coffee cup. ]

It... can mean that. It's not like the movies, corpses rising from the grave and all. That doesn't happen. If someone's dead they're just dead, but if an infected person doesn't stay fed, they can turn into mindless brain eaters, yeah. The rotting, the shambling, all of it. I never hit that point, though it got close a couple times.

[ There's more to it, but he'll let Caleb process it one piece at a time. His smile is a little wry. ]

It sucked. Like really sucked, on a lot of levels, but there are benefits too. That's why I stayed one so long before asking the gods for a human body.

[ Caleb shifts in his seat, considering the other man and what he's been through. He tries to imagine things he thinks it's got to be an asshole move to ask about. Like where he got food, and how long it took before movie zombies happened but it seems early in meeting the guy to ask those things. ]

Once you hit that point, game over then? No coming back from it?

[It makes sense in a way. Kind of like dementia maybe. Once the brain gets to a certain point, it can't come back. ]

You asked for... So they didn't heal you, they found you another body?

[ His mind finds itself catching on one thing and another. Who is he to question gods, after all, when he's in this world and seen the dead rise here in another way. ]

Yeah, that'd be game over.

[ He takes a sip of his coffee, appreciating that Caleb is dealing with this so well. Or seeming to, anyway. ]

They made me another body. They didn't understand how to cure illness, but they remade humans all the time when they died in the city. That's how I got brains, too, which I'm sure you wanted to ask about -- back home I got them from a funeral parlor.

I was trying really hard not to. I was going to fail but I was trying.

[ They've gotten this far, so how could he not ask? ]

I have to say. My dominant is a magician and he's got a friend that's a vampire. My... Nate is a witch who makes spelled piercings and tattoos. This one is new to me though.

Both the zombie thing and the... [ He's been trying to be cool about it but this is just making more questions. ] How do they make a body?

A magician, huh? I knew a couple of wizards back in Hadriel, but no one who called themselves a magician. Or a witch, actually. Is it different?

[ Drake just smiles at the question. ]

I have no idea, but I'm pretty happy with it.

My family never put a name to it, though history labeled us witches as well. [ Because he's talking about others, but might as well admit his own. ] All three of us work magic differently and specialize in different forms of magic.

Well yeah. I mean, it's kind of amazing they can do that. It would explain how people can die here and come back within a month too. That kind of knowledge and technology.

[ It's interesting... he knew that even within the specific categories there are different forms, like the little war going between Lup and her brother over who's school of wizardry was better. ]

What form do you specialize in?

[With Anakin gone, Padmé knows that things have changed. Obi-Wan has told her that she can still contract to his Dominant, and yet... It may well be in her head, but she would rather not be a third wheel, so to speak.

It is one of the reasons that she does reach out today. That, and she does want to check up on him.]

Hello Drake. I hope you've been doing well after all this kerfuffle that's happened?

[ Drake did see Obi-Wan's post, but didn't see Padme's reply -- he wasn't sure if it was polite or would be painful to check in on her about it. Leave it to her to check in first and give him the opportunity. He smiles at his device, maybe she can hear it in his voice. ]

Hey Padme. I was stuck in the Up, it wasn't great not being able to help but I'm doing fine. How are you?

[It isn't the first time that they have been separated, although it's not like Padmé can see him when he returns on Coruscant. It could be weeks, months, or even years before she is reunited with her husband.]

Mm. I can only imagine. My partner had been stuck up there as well. Thankfully, I did have a friend in the Down and he had no qualms letting me stay with him.

[ Well, since she brought him up first... ]

I'm glad you were safe. But I was actually asking about him. Your partner -- I saw him mentioned in that post.

You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, I just know what it's like and thought I'd offer a shoulder.

[There is still a strangeness at being able to just speak about Anakin without worry. She'd gone into the relationship knowing that it would have to be kept a secret. But there is a little pause.]

Ah. Yes. That was Obi-Wan.

[It is a stiff upper lip that she usually gives anyway, at least for the most part. Queen and senator- one tends not to show too much emotion.]

We are often apart. The war hasn't helped matters any either. That, and the whole private nature of our relationship.

You hadn't told me about that... I'm still sorry he's not here now.

[ In another universe entirely, in all likelihood. He just sympathizes, but he can hear that Padme's trying to minimize things so he'll follow her lead. ]

Hey, I've got tonight off. You want to come hang out and try making that bread you mentioned?

He's a Jedi, and they are forbidden to have that manner of attachment.

[Not that Padmé ever agreed with that thought... It made no sense to her. Love is never a weakness.

He does catch her by surprise, if only due to how kind he is. It's not that she isn't used to it, but...]

I would like the distraction, but only if you don't actually have other plans.

I get it. My last job had that rule, too.

[ And he'd chosen just about the worst possible partner for an undercover officer. But it wasn't meant to be anyway. ]

No other plans. The company would be nice.

It's their code, although I suppose not many are aware of it. I doubt I even know the half of it, given that I wasn't born with the ability to use the Force. What I have learned, I picked up through Anakin.

[Perhaps more than the Order may have liked him to share, but she hadn't done anything with it.]

Then I'll happily rope you into being my helper.

[And, it will give her a chance to bring up the whole contract request.]

[ Drake hums -- it's not something he knows anything about either, and Anakin's not here to ask. Maybe Obi-Wan would, but Drake doesn't know him and isn't going to track a stranger down for an idle curiosity. He's more interested in seeing Padme, maybe cheering her up a little. ]

I'm out right now but I'll hit the store and head back -- you can come over whenever.

It will likely take me some time to get to the Up with all the new restrictions.

[Although she does have a valid reason to do so, which shouldn't hinder her.]

I'll leave shortly.

Yeah, it's a hassle now. Travel safe.

[ He detours to the store on his way home, getting what he figures are the right ingredients for what she described. Whenever Padme gets to his apartment he'll be there, everything she might need set out on the kitchen counter. ]

[It does take her longer than expecting, being slightly harassed by the guards. She'd had to iterate again and again, before they finally allow her through. There does eventually come a soft knock at his door.]

[ Drake is just starting to feel bad about having her make the trip when there's a knock at his door -- he's there to open it quickly, greeting her with a friendly smile. ]

Hey, Padme. I hope they didn't give you too much trouble. Come in.

[A thought that he should throw out the door. A little hassle to see a friend is doable, even if she may have had to bite her cheek a little from going into full Senator mode on them.]

A small hurdle. They have quite tightened things up though.

[She does offer a smile.]

But I am glad you invited, and that I have come.

It's good to see you.

[ He closes the door behind her, admiring her hair as he turns back -- it's always so elegant, he can't imagine how long it takes to do. ]

Can I get you a drink?

[It would be an unruly mess if she didn't make some attempt to tame it, although there are days when she may be lazier than others. Still, a variety of styles had been picked up during her years as Queen, although thankfully the heavy headpieces had been left behind.]

I actually brought some chai tea, which is similar to what we drink with the bread at home.

[Uncertain whether he has heard of it, or if it would interest him.]

Oh, cool. I'll put some water on.

[ He gestures for her to follow him into the kitchen, where he gets a kettle and starts filling it. ]

Do you take it with milk and sugar like we do in my world?

I do. I was told that was typically how it was taken, although they also said black or various combinations.

[Personally she did like it with milk and sugar though, finding it a bit too tart and spiced for her tastebuds otherwise.]

Yeah, it is. I dated a girl real into tea once, she was strict about everything being traditional... green tea straight, chai with milk and sugar. I never knew there were so many rules about tea.

[ He sets the kettle on the stove and turns it on, then gestures to the bread baking stuff he got. ]

Does this look right?

I may have blasphemed in her eyes then. I drank my green tea with lemon.

[And she would do it again. Obi-Wan's tea supply had been a little raided during her stay there, and she would seek to refill it one day when she was able.

She moves forward though, eyes glancing across the items, before giving a nod.]

It is typically Naboo flour that we use, although that's not exactly a thing I've been here, so any flour should do and not alter the taste overly. Thank you for picking it up.

Maybe. It's a valid life choice to me though.

[ He grins, and lets her survey the groceries. What he grabbed was from memory of his mother making bread, plus the jam she'd mentioned. He already had stuff like sugar. ]

We can get started whenever you want, then.

Good, because I quite enjoyed it.

[Not that she would allow others to dictate her life for her. ]

Have you measuring cups and two bowls?

Yeah, they're....

[ He considers the cupboards for a moment, glancing back and forth like it's a guessing game, then opens one. It's correct, and he gives a soft 'aha!' as he bends down to pull out the bowls for her. Measuring cups are in the drawer, and they're set in front of Padme as well. ]

You need eggs, right?

[She could go by weight, or even wing it, if need be. Padmé had made it enough when she was younger, although it has been quite a few years since the last time. Thankfully he does find them, earning an amused smile from her. Luck?]

Just one, unless you wanted to double the recipe? It makes one loaf of average size.

[ He knew they were in the kitchen somewhere just not exactly where so it was a bit of a guess to get the right cupboard first try. This is a man who cooks way more than he bakes. And is opening the fridge to grab her eggs. ]

Let's go for broke. We can try one and you can give the other to your friend if it comes out good -- might cheer him up a little.

Double or nothing then.

[She has faced worse odds before, and if nothing else, perhaps a third attempt... She'd be able to tell how well the recipe was going once it rose. She moves to start measuring out the dry materials into one bowl.]

He... is from the future. Farther than I am. ... and Anakin.

[ Drake sets the eggs down, watching what Padme's doing with interest. ]

...how far in the future?

[Flour and salt measured into one, she moves to the other to measure out the milk, butter and sugar, before pausing at his question.]

I'm not certain of an exact number, but a few years anyway.

Are there any big differences for you?

[ He leans back against the counter -- they can change the subject if she seems uncomfortable, but he's curious. ]

[She hesitates, fingers stilling, before turning her gaze to him.]

I haven't asked too much... [The but hangs there a moment.] I know things have changed, and that the war ends not as I would have expected. There is something about a man that I trust and look up to as well, but I was told to ask- ask Anakin. I hadn't gotten the chance before he left.

I'm sorry. You can ask him when you get home?

[ His expression doesn't falter, but there's something sad in his eyes -- he's reminded himself he doesn't have a home anymore, because it was a person who doesn't seem to exist now. He shakes it off, nodding towards the bowls. ]

Anything I can do to help?

If what we're told is true, I won't even remember any of it.

[There is something in her voice that says that she would like to. There is plenty that she would change, if she could. Yet, would that also alter the future of everyone here that knows of her past? She doesn't know.]

Oh. Hmm. The eggs and those spices can go into this bowl.

[Motioning towards the set one which she's not put all the ingredients into.]

Mix, and we can then slowly add the flour. It will need to rest in a warm place for about an hour after.

I've heard that too, but in the last place I was it seemed kind of case by case. Maybe it is here, too.

[ He'd want to remember, he thinks, though he has no home to go back to so it's entirely hypothetical. While he speaks he follows Padme's directions, cracking eggs and measuring the spices, then mixing thoroughly. ]

What should we do while it rests?

Truly?

[She can't help but look at him with a slightly surprised expression.

Making certain to leave the bread covered and in a warmer spot, Padmé rinses off her hands, before turning back to him. There is a pause, considering, before speaking.]

There was actually something that I wanted to talk to you about.

It's a long shot but I have a good history with those.

[ Drake smiles, letting her wash up before placing the other bowls and tools in the sink to soak a little. ]

Yeah? What's that?

Then here is to your continued success.

[And she doesn't exactly fidget, but there is another brief pause.]

I hadn't made up my mind, at least until recently, as I was going to ask my husband his opinion on the matter. He's gone now, and there was something that transpired regardless which does make me hesitate in the route that I had been debating taking.

[Between him and the person that he had been contracted to for quite some time. Padmé doesn't think it was anything to do with her, but something had happened. There was also something about Qi'ra that made Padmé take a second harder look, uncertain of her.]

Please, do not feel obliged or any such thing, as I do not want that, but I would ask if you would be willing to contract with me. I've no desire to intrude, simply the chance to work, and in turn aim towards a place of my own at some point.

[Which, of course, she couldn't own on her own due to the nature of this place.]

[ Drake doesn't ask what happened, although he's curious. It's not his business even if he cares about Padme... she'd tell him if she wanted to talk about it. Whatever it was, it seems to have pushed her to making up her mind on who to contract with and Drake is honestly kind of honored that she'd trust him that much. His offer had been genuine but he hadn't actually expected things to go this way.

He also needs a sub soon if he doesn't want to go to jail, especially now that Ephemera has signed with someone else, and he really likes Padme. She's one of the only people he feels even remotely close to here, that he can trust and be himself around. So she gets a smile, then a nod. ]

I'd like that. And no strings, promise -- as far as I'm concerned you can be with whoever you want and live wherever you want. The city doesn't have any requirements for pairs, right?

[She may one day broach the topic with Qi'ra, although stars knew that she would have worked on Anakin. She'd give him time, knowing that it had typically been what her husband had required, before lightly pressing. From him she may never know, as even if he may return, he may not recall this place.

She may wait, silent, as indeed she doesn't want him to feel pressured into it, but some tension does leave and a smile shifts onto her face.]

Thank you.

[Before giving a soft laugh, although her gaze also shifts off. Who she wants to be with isn't here. Living is also a tricky matter, although she has her space in the Down, as it may be. There's a slight cock to her head, and she does question, for clarification.]

For contracts, or for partners?

[As pairs could do either way in it's meaning.]

Uh, contracts, I guess? We don't have to-- actually, are you making quota now?

[ It's a pretty big concern now that he's thinking about it, with Anakin gone. He isn't sure of Padme's habits otherwise. ]

Ah. [There is a brief pause, as she could answer the contracts part, but he does follow it up with another question.] I hadn't really thought that far ahead yet.

I'm sorry to bring it up. I'd help if you needed it, but we don't have to talk about that now.

Oh. No, it's- [She considers for a moment, before cocking her head slightly.]

I suppose, in a manner, it was an easy way out, having him here. Not that I want it to be hard. It was... familiar? A known.

[ Drake nods. He wouldn't be surprised if she had been exclusively making quota with her husband. ]

I'm sorry it's going to be harder now. Emotionally, at least, I don't think you'll have a problem finding people.

[ She is beautiful, after all, and very kind. She'll get offers. ]

I don't know about that...

[Brow furrowing.]

Trust has usually been the basis of my relationships. It's not exactly something one typically speeds through.

[ Hmm. Drake nods his understanding of that... it's not easy to trust, especially when you're out of your element. ]

Well if you think you could trust me, I'd help. Do you have any good friends here?

[Some events have pushed the boundaries with Padmé, but she would rather not have to rely on getting inflicted with whatever is going around to deal with their requirements. There's much she would like to do, such as telling them where to go. Yet she also knows there is little point in making a scene.]

I wouldn't want to press you into something if you had no inclination towards it.

[Although she pauses, uncertain if that was clear enough. She's been married, to a man, but Padmé has no idea about Drake and his preferences. She would like to believe that he wouldn't compromise himself.]

One. He trained Anakin, although I did meet him first.

It's, uh. Really not pressing me.

[ He grins sheepishly -- Padme is gorgeous and he's pretty much always ready to go, he just makes it a rule not to hit on people unless they show interest first because he doesn't want to make them uncomfortable around him. He's also kind of a big guy, so not coming off as skeezy or threatening is a general life priority. ]

Would you ask him?

[There's a small curl of her lips, a softness to her face. Since she has met him, he has been nothing but kind and considerate. He may indeed have a rather large presence, but she's never gotten anything off putting from him.]

I could... He has built a life for himself here, not that I've been excluded, but he has found someone.

Well in a place with rules like this non-monogamy is the norm, right? If you're interested, ask. Worst case he turns you down and you're stuck with me.

[ It's clearly a joke, his grin less sheepish now. ]

I'd hardly call it being stuck...

[A wry, albeit slightly flushed, response. Handsome in appearance, and pleasant in personality. Padmé does enjoy his company.]

[ Drake laughs softly, both flattered and charmed. Seems like they've both been hiding some attraction, which is a good sign for quota antics. ]

Come here, I'm curious about something.

[There may be a small arch of her eyebrow, curiosity across her features, although she does step forward.]

About?

If you don't mind me being a little forward.

[ He steps in to meet her, dipping his head, and it's pretty clear he's going in for a kiss. She can pull back if she doesn't want one. ]

[There's several different places it could have gone, although it becomes clear which one it is. Forward? Yes and no. In another time and place, most certainly, but here there is no black and white.

And yes, she finds him attractive on several different levels, which is why there is a moment's pause, before she meets him just before he finishes bending down to her.]

[ It's a soft kiss at first, almost shy as their lips brush... but Padme did lean up to meet him. He can afford to be a little bolder, reaching up to cradle her head as he deepens the kiss, tongue swiping over her lower lip. ]

[Tentative, her lips ghost over his, exploring. Her pulse quickens as his hand grazes across her skin, that small electric spark in turn as her fingers curl to clutch at his shirt. It's a sharp inhale as her lips part, pressing harder for a moment, before pulling back ever so, lips skimming over his.]

... with a kiss like that, I might want to be stuck with you.

[ Drake smiles faintly, brushing their noses together rather than pulling back. It was a good kiss, and satisfied his curiosity to find out if there was chemistry there or just attraction. His other arm loops around her waist to keep her close. ]

I could say the same to you.

[Her eyes glance up, a delicate smile on her lips. With her hand coming to rest of her chest, there is a impish gleam that flashes for a moment.]

Only could?

[That gentle teasing. Her focus had always been her duties. Everything else had fallen to the side for the longest time.]

Thank you. For everything.

[ Drake brushes his fingers across her cheek and huffs a soft laugh, enjoying the playfulness. ]

Fine, I will. You're a good kisser. But you don't have to thank me for any of it.

[ She's been kind to him, too, and good company when he desperately needs it. And if they're both without their partners and need to make quota, well. They'll have each other for that too, maybe. ]

Edited 2021-07-13 00:18 (UTC)

[Her fingers twitch on his chest as his touch ghosts across her skin. With a shiver, she shifts to rest her other hand over his, squeezing lightly.]

I may not have to, but it doesn't mean I won't.

[ Drake spreads his fingers to catch hers between them, squeezing back while stroking his thumb over her lips. ]

Guess I have to thank you back, then. You're excellent company.

[He is rather distracting. Whether he intends to be or not, Padmé isn't entirely certain. Yet, it doesn't stop her tongue from flicking across his thumb as it brushes against her lips.]

I do promise not to broadcast to the world that you said that about a politician.

[That soft banter.]

Hmm, I think I can trust you with my secrets. But if you need convincing...

[ He dips his head and kisses her again, a little deeper this time. ]

[She doesn't, of course, but at the same time, she's not going to protest as he bends back down again. It's a heady sensation as his lips sink down, and she presses back, shifting up to her tippy toes, mouth slowly working over his as she explores the sensation.]

[ It is absolutely just an excuse to kiss her again. The arm he has around her tightens when she rises onto her toes, to help hold her up and against him. Where the first kiss was a rush, this one is a slow burn, both of them exploring one another's mouths. Drake pays close attention, trying to figure out what she likes... he sucks softly on her bottom lip, lets their tongues meet and tangle, feeling things out. Slow and thoughtful, though she'll be able to feel how affected he is by it soon enough. ]

[Padmé hums softly as her body melds up to his. Her hand slides up along his chest, over his shoulders, until her fingers are curling up behind his neck. It's a hitched breath as he sucks, a moan as his tongue weaves over hers, and her nails drag along the nape of his neck, stroking. Her tongue darts, tracing, teeth nibbling, body rocking lightly against his.]

[ When this kiss finally breaks Drake's a little breathless, his pulse fluttering in his chest. He's all but clutching Padme to him and seems to realize that after a moment, loosening his hold in case she wants to call it there. It's not hard to get carried away when it's this good, though. It feels natural, easy. Like they fit together as well in this way as they do in each other's company. ]

How much longer do we have?

[ He says it playfully, eyes sparkling, but there's a hint of 'hey, if you wanna kill the time...' to it. ]

[She sucks in a light breath, heart hammering as his lips part from hers. Lingers for a moment, eyes closed, aware of how his touch eases up. Padmé won't lie. There is something that is organic about it, that seemingly clicks effortlessly into place.

Her gaze shifts focuses, brow furrowing at his question. Did they have for?]

Longer- oh. Thirty minutes- forty?

[Lips giving a small quirk as she catches the expression on his face.]

[ Forty would be better, Drake thinks, but they could make it work. Only if she wanted. He brushes their noses together, a pretty clear sign that he wants to keep kissing her at the least, one hand stroking up and down her back. ]

I can set a timer.

[Her fingers curl, to drop and rest on his shoulder. She hasn't moved away, although there's still a ghost of a space between them. A space that closes as his hand draws along her spine, to meld back up as she inhales deeply.]

We wouldn't want to let all our hard work go to waste.

[ Drake grins as she presses back against him and at the comment alike, then finally straightens up and steps away. He goes over to his microwave and sets a timer for 40 minutes because more time is definitely better here, and beckons to Padme to follow him as he backs out of the kitchen. She'll know from being over before that he's moving towards his bedroom. ]

[She tracks him as he moves, to set the timer. It is true that she would rather not waste their efforts, conscious that it has been started. Yet there's no denying that tug that she feels towards him. It's a slightly contemplative expression, eyes shifting across him, until he motions.

A cursory look is tossed to the dough, although she knows that it should be fine. There's a difference between minutes here and there, and hours, as that would indeed ruin it. Yet the smile does come earnest as she tips her head slightly, moving towards him and the direction he leads.]

[ Drake smiles when Padme follows him, holding eye contact as he leads her into his room and sits on the edge of his bed -- glad he made it fresh this morning. He hadn't anticipated this, but it's a happy development.

He holds out a hand to her to pull her in but doesn't specifically guide her. She can sit next to him or in his lap, whichever she'd prefer. Either way once she's settled he's going to mold his other hand to her neck and lean in for another kiss, one with the promise of more if she wants it. ]

[Her palm slips lightly into his as it's offered, taking a second to squeeze it, and she does shift, to settle on his lap. It's a moment, bracing over his legs as she straddles, finds a spot, sucking in a breath as his fingers skim along her neck. It's a shiver as her fingers clutch at his shirt, eyes closing, to meet his lips half-way as her mouth dips to his. She drifts for a moment, flesh ghosting flesh, before pressing in harder with a soft moan.]

[ It reads more as teasing than hesitance to Drake, the way Padme's lips ghost over his for a moment before settling into a proper kiss. There's no way for her to know he loves that, but he does. The anticipation, the way a moment builds. He wraps his other arm around her waist and settles his hand low on her back, pulling her tight in against him.

They kiss until Drake, at least, is breathless. But he doesn't stop entirely. Instead he dips his head to her neck, kissing down the line of her throat over her pulse, sucking lightly so as not to mark her unless she wants that. He's taking his cues from the sounds she makes, the way she arches against him... and the hand on her back slips under the hem of her shirt to caress soft, warm skin. ]

[Work had always been her primary focus, but it hadn't always been her sole focus in life. Much of what she had done had been for duty, at least until she had met Anakin, but even before then, there had been some moments. It is always getting to learn what someone else likes, those small spots that make them gasp or moan, what can make them groan loudly or shiver with pleasure.

She likes how he responds though, slipping down his legs as his arm encircles and tugs, until she is nestled on his lap, torso to his, close enough that her indrawn presses her chest against his. It is heady, that soft noise finally escaping her as their lips part, at least until she hisses from the brush of his lips along her throat. Her head lolls to the side, giving him the access as her hand tightens in his, shivering. Exploring goes her own hand, tracing up along his chest and over the slope of his shoulder, feeling the tensing of muscles as she goes, to settle at the nape of his neck. It's a small twitch as she feels his fingers against her skin, her nails curling lightly as she strokes, fingers splaying over the back of his head, until her head dipping down to capture his lips again.]

[ Padme shivers against him, pressed as close as she can get, her breath catching before she leans down to catch his mouth in another proper kiss. Drake smiles into it for a moment before letting it deepen into something hungry, the promise of more. His second hand joins the first, skimming up her sides pushing up her shirt. The fabric bunches between them and when they break apart next Drake makes as if to pull it over her head, meeting her eyes for a moment before with a question in them. They're not going to do anything she doesn't want, and he's still learning how to read her. ]

[There's that awareness of his second hand joining, to caress up along her rib cage, pressing the material up as it goes. It's a shuddered breath as they break apart again, eyes closed to savour those various sensation, tongue darting across her lips as she turns to look up at Drake. She gives a small nod, understanding the question that he poses, that soft warmth on her features that it is even something that he does consider. Then she's shifting in turn, hands leaving him and away so that he can tug it up and over her head.]

[ Drake pulls her shirt off for her, letting it fall to the side before reaching for his own as well. So they can be skin to skin to some extent, though he's leaving her bra for her to decide when to remove it. ]

This still okay?

[Her eyes shift, roaming over that now revealed expanse of skin, noting the tattoos, ending on his face. There's a smile as her hands move to cup his cheeks, thumbs brushing for a few moments, before settling on his shoulder.]

It is. Very okay.

[Eyes flickering over his, her finger traces along the outline of the tattoo on his arm.]

[ Drake is happy to let her touch, smiling at her as his own hands caress her sides. ]

Do you have any?

[ Tattoos, he means. ]

No. None.

[She traces her index fingers, making an L and an I - the first four in the forty-four.]

Favourite numbers?

[Quirking an eyebrow, although her hand slides down a little lower over his chest, nails skimming as they drop along his abdomen.]

[ Drake shakes his head, just slightly. ]

Memorials.

[ He hums with approval as Padme's nails skim down his torso, the muscles jumping under her touch. He grins at her, pulling her back in close. ]

Careful, I'm ticklish.

[It's an acknowledging noise, knowing that everyone memorializes things in their own way. Finds herself drawn back in, although there's a gleam in her eyes. If she, ever just so, shifts her position...]

You can't say something like that and not expect consequences.

[As she strokes her fingers back and forth a little lower at his side.]

[ Drake makes a sound somewhere between a laugh and a yelp, but instead of shrinking back from her touch he scoops her up into his arms and changes their position. Dropping her playfully onto her back on the mattress and hovering over her, trying to catch her hands with his free one. ]

[Her own smile brightens in turn, feathering her fingers along his side, yet it's her own surprised squeak that she suddenly gives, finding her world inverting. Gasping, she blinks, before laughing, trying to evade his grasp and tickle him some more- yet it only works for so long before he has her hands. Padmé is acutely aware of him then, a slight shift of her hips, with a rosy flush on her cheeks.]

Quite ticklish...

I did warn you.

[ He's still laughing a little, but it's more delight at the situation than anything else. Settling his weight on top of her he leans back down for another kiss, pinning her hips so that if she squirms... well. Things will get interesting quickly. ]

[Her own chuckle mingles with his, tapering off as he settles. There's a solidness to him, bearing as he does, and yet there is nothing suffocating about it. A pleasant warmth to his frame. A sucked in breath as he captures her mouth again, her lips moving over his. It's those soft noises as she returns it with her own fervor, shivering, grinding up against him as the kiss continues, left leg shifting up slightly as she rocks upwards into him.]

[ Padme's enthusiasm for this catches Drake off guard, with how reserved she usually is -- he moans softly into the kiss, rolling his hips back against her and skimming one hand back down her side to stop shyly on her hip. Encouraging her movement but just short of grabbing her ass.

When they next break for air he nuzzles against her cheek and pulls back onto his knees, the hand on her hip teasing at her waistband. ]

Off?

[There has always been that public persona and that private persona that Padmé shows to the world. She's also altered, from queen to senator, understanding that each required a different approach, but it is those that she trusts that she does let the walls start to slip away. She may be reserved and calm when faced with an obstacle, but she could be playful and mischievous as well.]

Off... Unless you have a thing for them?

[There is that small glimmer in her eyes, but she raises her hips to help, admiring the view. He is very handsome, after all.]

[ Drake smiles, shaking his head a little -- maybe another time, they can play with outfits. Right now he's more interested in seeing Padme without hers, as the skirt is long enough it will only get in his way. He slips it and her underwear off her hips, leaving her in just the bra he'd left on her. His eyes cut to it now, bright and curious. ]

[There's a small playful arch of her eyebrow as she notes his reaction, and how his eyes drop. Acutely aware of that fact, Padmé leans forward, dipping her face towards his. Distracting him with a kiss, her hand moves behind, popping the clasp of her bra free, shrugging it down her shoulders, until she works it off, dropping it. Hand free once more, her palm cups his cheek, deepening the kiss.]

[ It's a welcome distraction. Drake kisses back, his hand coming up to caress Padme's side as he eases her back to to the mattress. Trailing lower still, following the curve of her waist to her hip and down her thigh, then back down along the inside. Teasingly, telegraphing his movements with agonizing slowness, his fingers slip between her legs. ]

[One hand remains, delicate, barely holding against his cheek as she slips the other down, across the wide expanse of his shoulders, gliding over his back as her mouth works over his. She sucks in a breath as his fingers meander down, breaking the kiss for a moment, holding it as he takes his time to explore the curves and dips of her body. Goosebumps rise in his wake, her chest rising and falling. His name is ushered in a breathless tone as she squirms beneath him, dipping to feather her lips once more along his. It's a hitch, nails sinking lightly against his shoulder blade as his delve closer to her core, slick already with need.]

[ Life goes on. Sharkface finds a rhythm. Makes it work. He's got enough art supplies that even when he finishes the mural of the black cliffs, he's not at a loss for space or inspiration. Piece by piece, night by night, he fills up the sketchbook. He even breaks out a couple canvases and starts smaller pieces. Works on what he pleases.

In some ways, it's better than prison. There are restrictions, but he's not locked a cell. He can eat when he wants, so long as he can afford it. No one takes his paints away.

It could be worse. But the nightmares, oh. Those are the same.

He's sitting on his bed, pen and sketchbook in hand, when he hears the knock at the door. Majima's out. Sharkface wasn't expecting him back for a while, either. He stands with a frown, tucking the book under his arm, and blinks when he sees who's at the door. ]

Drake?

Hey...

[ Drake looks a bit awkward and more than a little roughed up, although he's made an effort to straighten his clothes and smooth his hair back. He's got a bruise blossoming on his cheek and a split lip, some blood on his shirt from where it dripped. 'Patrol' was a little rough tonight, and it's late as fuck now, enough that they gave him such a hard time at the elevator that he decided not to bother with it. He has friends in the Down. If Sharkface turns him away there are other places he can go, too, but he's hoping he won't. ]

I don't want to impose on you, but uh... [ He gestures at his state. ] This didn't go over so well.

Shit.

[ Sharkface motions him inside, scanning the area for enemies. So far, he can't catch any looming. ]

How bad are you fucked up?

It's fine. You should see the other guys.

[ He smiles, lopsided on account of his lip, then winces and comes inside. No one's following him that he clocked, but he appreciates Sharkface double checking. ]

You mind if I wash up?

[ He pulls the door closed, eying Drake up and down. Checking for any injuries that seem like they go deeper than just a beating. ]

No. Go ahead. Roommate's out. There's a first aid kit in the bathroom, too.

Thank you. I'll be out of your hair in no time.

[ He heads for the bathroom, not bothering to close the door since he's just patching himself up. If Sharkface peers in he's got his shirt off, fresh bruises blooming over his ribs as well, and is letting the stain soak in peroxide as he cleans his lip. ]

[ For a moment, Sharkface leaves him to it. Drake's trained, knows how to handle himself. Probably knows how to patch himself up just fine. But Sharkface worries, still.

He leans against the door, peering in. ]

The other guy gonna hold a grudge?

Maybe.

[ Drake admits it reluctantly, shrugging. ]

If I ruin his night too many times, maybe, but this was the first time I've seen this group.

What was he doing?

[ Probably deserved having his night ruined, but it's information worth having. Sharkface frowns. ]

How many in the group?

Just the usual, they had somebody cornered. Four of them.

[ He turns the sink on to scrub out the bloodstain, figuring the peroxide's done its job by now. ]

I've had worse odds.

[ Sharkface tips his head back. Drake's in one piece, more or less. He might not be next time. ]

Might have more friends next time, though. You want backup? I'm good at breaking heads.

...I wouldn't mind the company. But you live down here, it's riskier.

[ Sharkface just shrugs. It's like being back in prison in some ways. Not all of them, but enough that the comparisons hit true. There are rules, expectations. Alliances that cannot be disturbed without consequence. And sometimes you just have to say fuck it and power through regardless.

It's worth having allies. And some people are worth protecting. ]

I'll survive it. And I'm good backup.

...I know. If you want to, sure.

[ Satisfied that he's scrubbed out the blood on his shirt, he turns off the water and starts wringing it out. ]

I know I'm asking for trouble doing this, but some habits are just. Hard to break.

Some things are worth doing.

[ Regardless of cost. He understands that. It's why he fought for the Insurrection, once. ]

Yeah. Gives me a sense of purpose.

[ He finishes wringing his shirt out, and shakes it to get rid of the wrinkles... then seems to be debating something internally. It's obvious enough when he speaks again. ]

You mind if I hang out while it dries? I'd like to see what you've been painting here, too.

[ Sharkface blinks, but nods. ]

Yeah, if you want. Place is pretty shitty, though.

[ Drake smiles softly, draping his shirt on the towel rack to dry. ]

I don't care about the place. Just the company.

[ Oh. Sharkface blinks, watching Drake for a long moment. He thinks this is what having friends feels like. ]

Okay. You want some water, or anything? Think I've got some coffee, but it's the shitty instant kind.

[ Drake's expression doesn't falter, stays warm and soft. ]

Water would be great.

[ Look at Sharkface, playing host. Drake follows him into the kitchen, seemingly unbothered by the fact he's not wearing a shirt. The other man hasn't said anything about it, and it's not like he has a spare. The kitchen is pretty barren, though, not even a pan out on the stove. ]

How are you guys doing on groceries? Doesn't look like you cook much.

[ Okay, then. Sharkface nods and then pads out into the kitchen. They have water, at least. A couple clean cups. He fills one up and hands it over. ]

Food's expensive.

[ And so far as he knows, Majima doesn't cook anymore than Sharkface himself does. ]

We make do.

[ He hesitates, realizing something. ]

You wanna borrow a shirt, or something?

[ Sharkface doesn't care, but he's realizing belatedly that Drake might. ]

You know I'd take you shopping, right? Or you could just come by more often. Not for the quota, I mean.

[ He takes the cup, raising it to have a sip but pausing at the question. ]

Uh. If it bothers you.

[ But I don't have anything to offer you in return, Sharkface thinks. He watches Drake for a moment, then nods slowly. It's kindness. There's a part of him that still recognizes it.

Okay, he thinks. Okay. ]

I could come over more.

[ It's said softly. And for a moment, Sharkface allows himself to look at Drake. Really look.

He looks good like that, Sharkface thinks. With the tattoos, that easy confidence. ]

No. Don't mind.

I'd like that a lot.

[ He does sip the water as Sharkface looks him over, trying not to feel nervous about the answer -- but it's a no. There's a weird sense of relief at that, one that Drake doesn't know how to process right now. He nods, then glances around at the walls. ]

I'm good, then. Willing to show me what you've been working on?

[ Sharkface's expression softens briefly. He thinks Drake is the only person here who he trusts - truly trusts - to look at his art and not turn into something mocking or probing. ]

Yeah. Been trying out the canvases. C'mon.

[ Drake follows where Sharkface leads, genuinely curious what this version of his partner has been painting. He remembers the early days in Hadriel, where the art was mostly his family. Over and over again, until he got them just right. But here he's got a wider range of supplies, colors to experiment with, and he was eager enough to do Drake's mural -- still unfinished, and he's got ideas for more projects -- so maybe the subjects are more varied. ]

[ It's strange to have so many choices for his art. In prison he had nubby little pens and scrap paper the guards wouldn't let him kept, lest he start making escape plans or some nonsense. Here, he's got the mural on the wall, sketchbooks, and even canvases to play around with. More than a few people have bought him supplies seemingly just for the sake of doing it, without asking for anything in payment. He wants to distrust it, but no catch has been revealed just yet.

He gestures briefly at the mural on the wall, a massive undertaking that stretches from floor to ceiling. It depicts cliffs made of black crystal shining over a dark ocean, multiple colors hidden within the black. But there are shadows there, too. Something a little stranger than reality. Dark shapes looking out. Ghosts, he thinks. Paying witness.

But what he pulls out instead is a canvas, covered in a thin sheet to protect it. It's a portrait he's been working on of a dark-haired woman. The main colors are dark, bold, but the undertones are warmer. He offers it out to Drake. ]

Her name's Vanessa. Traded her the portrait for some more paint and brushes.

[ Drake is studying the cliff mural when Sharkface offers him the canvas -- he sets his glass down on the nightstand and takes the painting carefully, making sure not to touch the front of it. The paint is dry, of course, but he thinks he remembers that the oils on your fingers can damage it. Even if it's not accurate he's treating the painting like something precious. ]

It's beautiful.

[ The woman in it, obviously, but just the artwork itself too. It seems like the shading is done in careful layers, creating an intricate play of light and shadow. ]

Is this in oil?

Acrylics. But I've got some oils I want to try.

[ They take longer to dry and he's been told they blend a little differently. Take to the canvas in a different way. They're expensive, but he's been given gifts. And there's not much he cares to buy these days except food and art supplies. ]

Liked doing it. It's....peaceful, I guess.

[ He keeps admiring it, nodding at the information he's given. It's a slightly different style than he's used to from Ephemera, but still recognizable. ]

Did she sit for this? Or are you doing it from memory?

[ Sharkface's smile is faint, but there. ]

She sat for it. We talked.

[ It was - nice. Almost normal. ]

That sounds nice. I bet it's been a long time, huh?

[ He passes the canvas back, smiling. The painting really is beautiful, and shows the other man's range. ]

When are you giving it to her?

Never actually used a canvas before.

[ He’s painted other things. Scraps of wood or metal, armor, whatever was at hand. And now he has canvases and that’s new, but not unwelcome. He’s picked it up fast. ]

Soon. I want to finish up the background and the lighting on her dress. But it came together.

we should talk. can i come over?

[ Drake smiles when he sees the username pop up on his device, but that burst of warmth quickly turns to dread when he sees the message itself. That sounds serious. He takes a deep breath and tries to stop his mind racing through possibilities -- he'll find out what it is soon enough. ]

you can always come over. i'm home.

i'll be there soon

[ And he is, as soon as he can get past the bullshit with the checkpoints, knocking on the door and watching his corners with care. His clothes, notably, are much nicer this time around. But he's still got a sweatshirt on underneath his jacket, the hood pulled up to shield the worst of his scars. ]

Hey.

[ His smile is small, but genuine. ]

Can I come in?

[ Drake can tell the smile is genuine, and so even though he's worried he can't help but return it. That's the first thing he notices... next are the clothes, which are very nice. The stuff Drake gave him fit well, of course, but were still city-provided. It looks like someone's taken him shopping.

And that gives him an idea of what this might be about. His stomach twists and smile falters a little as he steps back and swings the door wider to welcome Sharkface in. ]

Not gonna lie, you've got me kind of nervous. Everything okay?

It's not a bad thing.

[ Or at least he hopes it isn't a bad thing, that he's allied with the right person - someone he can understand and trust in small ways, someone who will fight with him if it comes to that. But the simple truth is, he's been tricked before. People gave him one side of themselves and he believed it, swallowed the lines they fed him. He trusted them and it went wrong. Sometimes, Sharkface thinks he just isn't good at reading people and maybe never was. He got lucky with his family. They loved him and that was unconditional, pure.

Everything that followed is tangled, knotted. The aftermath always is.

Sharkface steps inside, touching his knuckles to his mouth. He wasn't worried when he first sent the message but he is now. It nags at him, the thought he might have fucked up. That it's going to spiral on him. He understands Lakshmi, or at least enough of her. And he trusts Drake, though there's a lot he doesn't yet know about the man.

If it's a mistake, it's one that will cost him. But if it's not -

He supposes he'll have to live with that one, too. ]

Made a deal. Doesn't get me armor, but it's something. More room to maneuver.

[ He tips his head to the side. ]

You wanna sign with me?

What kind of deal?

[ And what's the something? Besides the clothes. Drake's still a little worried, enough that he shifts his weight restlessly before leading Sharkface deeper into the apartment. There's a cup of coffee on the kitchen island where he was sitting, waiting, and he's about to offer some to the other man when the question catches him off guard. ]

...I do, yeah. But I'm less worried about what I want.

A contract.

[ They don't have to fuck. That was one of the first agreements they made. They're allies but they don't have to fuck and she doesn't care what he does so long as he doesn't make stupid moves without telling her. Sharkface follows Drake, watching him carefully and trying to swallow down the unease. ]

It's how things work here. It's this or jail. But she.

[ He hesitates. ]

She makes sense to me. In a different way than you. And you -

[ Again, he wavers. Struggling for the right words. ]

I don't know. I trust you, I think.

[ Oh. Drake goes still, then nods slowly. That's that, then. At least for now. He has other options to stay out of jail himself, so that's not the problem. But something is. He shouldn't be disappointed -- Sharkface barely knows him. Didn't understand him for a long time even after they got together, there's no reason to think things would go faster or better here. But something in him aches knowing that he wasn't the one the other man chose.

He tries to push it all aside and focus on just this conversation, but has a feeling his mask isn't as good as it used to be. ]

You can. I know my saying that doesn't help, but I'll prove it in time.

[ The worry breaks through his grief, then. To bring up something far more important. ]

You trust her too, right? I mean I'm-- it's none of my business and I know you can take care of yourself. But she's legit?

[ Even as Sharkface fears he isn't good at reading other people - or maybe just anyone who isn't armored - it's impossible to miss the hurt on Drake's face. Because there's trust between them, but there was more once - or there was more with that other version of him, the one that Drake has to be missing, and Sharkface isn't that man. Looks like him, moves like him, probably even speaks like him, but there's always going to be that divide. And how could that do anything but hurt in the aftermath?

Sharkface twitches. Exhales slowly. ]

Yeah. You'll probably like her.

[ She's more like Sharkface than not. They understand each other in a way he wasn't expecting - grief and rage and that need for control so close to the surface. But she's been fair to him. There was even something close to joy when they sparred. ]

But I thought - you've done a lot for me. Been patient with me when I'm. Like this.

[ When he edges closer toward crazy than not. ]

I can't do a lot here. Not yet. But I. I can protect you. I can do that. I want to.

[ He meets Drake's gaze head on. ]

So if you want. If you want me to sign with you, too, then I will.

I probably will. I already know she's got good taste.

[ His smile is faint, but real. As Sharkface continues there's a lot that Drake wants to say, emotions churning and the words just out of reach as he waits for the other man to get his own out. In the end he's left blinking in confusion, though, everything else on hold for the moment. ]

Is that even possible?

Think so, yeah.

[ There's paperwork, there always is. But they could work it out, couldn't they? ]

I get it, if you don't want to. But - I wanted to offer. It'd be something I could do for you.

[ A way to offer Drake some protection in turn. ]

...you don't have to do anything for me, though. You don't owe me anything, I'd want you to want it.

[ To want him hangs unspoken between them, and Drake breathes out and leans back against the counter. ]

What does contracting mean to you?

[ Sharkface hesitates. ]

I want you to be safe.

[ That feels simple, at least. ]

The contracts are just a means to an end. But they're -

[ He twitches. ]

Intimate. Or they can be. Lakshmi makes sense to me. She said she won't touch me. We're allies.

[ Two soldiers with their own wars to fight back home. ]

I just. I want you to be safe. You - matter.

[ Some days, Drake wonders if he's making a huge mistake with Sharkface. If he should just leave the other man be, because the chances that he's someone else entirely are better than it just being Ephemera with memory loss. And his actual partner is out there somewhere, alone, waiting for him to show up. He wonders if he's just being masochistic wanting so desperately to spend time with someone who doesn't love him, doesn't even know him. Or worse, if it's all selfish. If he isn't helping Sharkface, just futilely trying to turn him into someone he isn't meant to be.

But then the other man says something like that, and even as his heart breaks a little more he knows he can't just let this go and pretend there's nothing there. There is something between them, even if it's not the same, not yet. Drake takes another steadying breath, then stretches out a hand towards Sharkface. It's not the hug he really wants, but baby steps. ]

Let's look into it, then? We don't have to make a decision right away, either.

[ Oh. Sharkface wavers for a moment, fearing that he's going to fuck it up. Because there's a part of him that just wants to hold Drake then, offer what comfort he can. And he fears that he isn't good at that anymore, that something broke in him a long time ago and whatever he can offer people in the aftermath is brittle and small. Hardly worth taking.

He shivers, then steps in closer and takes Drake's hand. It feels important. And it doesn't hurt. ]

Okay.

[ Okay. ]

Could I. Could I stay, for a little while?

[ The moment Sharkface's hand is in his Drake seems to relax significantly, his expression easing into a gentle smile in response to the question. ]

You can always stay. Can I get you anything?

[ Sharkface peers at him, quipping a faint smile. Some of the tension's bleed away, it seems. At least, Drake doesn't look so stressed. ]

No. I'm good.

[ It went okay, in the end. He worried. He still worries, but this -

This feels all right. Sharkface hesitates for a moment, then takes a breath and shifts so he can press against Drake a little.

Just a little. ]

[ Drake understands the worry -- he knows where it comes from and in a way it's a good thing, it means that whatever they have matters to Sharkface. But he's always quick to try and ease it when he can, especially when the other man scoots in to lean against him. He squeezes Sharkface's hand and tilts his head, pressing their foreheads together too. ]

We'll figure it out.

[ His voice is soft and reassuring, and Sharkface will get the sense he means more than the contract business. ]

You look great, by the way. I didn't get to say that before. Think Lakshmi would help me shop too, if I asked?

[ Sharkface breathes out, relaxing into the touch. Because it's familiar, because he knows how it goes. And it fits. This trust they have, that they've always had. He can't always explain it. But this feels right. Even when he's brittle and strange, and fears he can't be who Drake's looking for, this slots into place. ]

I'm getting used to it. It's like armor, a little.

[ A way of controlling how he moves through the world. ]

Yeah. Think she would.

[ He huffs a little. ]

She's a hell of a woman.

[ Drake hums softly in agreement. Obviously he's never met her, but if Sharkface chose her to contract with? She's gotta be something special. ]

I figured she must be.

[ He's really trying to sound neutral, but probably not for the reasons one would think. It's not jealousy, it's insecurity. Something he hasn't felt since he was with Liv and worrying he couldn't make her happy. Now the issue is harder to put his finger on, beyond uncertainty what he offers besides help with the quota. Anyone can do that. ]

[ Sharkface shifts, watching Drake for a moment, then leans in and bumps their foreheads together. Gently, carefully. This feels important, too. Having this closeness. He doesn't with anyone else. ]

You okay?

[ It's asked softly. ]

[ Drake leans into it, comforted by the closeness. He isn't entirely surprised that Sharkface can read him already -- he doesn't bother with acts around the other man, never has and probably never will. It doesn't feel right. ]

Yeah. You're still here.

[ He tilts his face up and presses a kiss to Sharkface's forehead, warm and affectionate. He's a little knotted up but he'll be fine. Just needs to let things settle. ]

Let's go sit. You can tell me what you've been up to? Any new projects?

[ Oh. Sharkface blinks several times, surprised by the gesture. The - gentleness of it, he supposes. He's not used to that. But he didn't flinch from it this time and that -

That's something, isn't it? ]

Yeah. We can do that.

[ He hesitates a moment, then puts his hand on Drake's arm. Lightly, gingerly, in case it isn't okay. ]

Not a whole lot? Mostly sketching. I can show you, if you want.

[ The hand on his arm gets a genuine smile out of Drake -- first he didn't flinch back and now he's reaching out, and that means a lot.

He leads Sharkface over to the couch, sitting first and letting the other man decide if he wants to maintain contact or not. Drake would certainly be happy to cuddle a bit. ]

I'd love to see. Do you carry a pad around?

[ They go to the couch and while Sharkface hesitates for a moment - perhaps a moment too long - he sits down and presses against Drake. Just a little. But it feels good, is the thing. It reminds him of being back with his family and how easily they'd held each other, how he could reach out and one of them would be there - Barrows, Rodriguez, Daisy, any of them - and he'd know he was safe, loved. He thought that was over. That he'd never know it again. ]

Yeah. A small one. It just - gives me something, you know?

[ The hesitation registers but in the end Sharkface sits down close and presses against his side, and a warm fondness spreads through Drake's chest. He drapes his arm over the back of the couch around the other man, holding him gently. Showing a quiet appreciation for the intimacy -- it really does seem like he's getting more comfortable with contact. ]

I know what you mean. Show me?

[ Sharkface nods, tugging the sketchbook out of his inner pocket. He flips through a couple pages, then offers it out to Drake. The pages are filled almost corner to corner, crammed with sketches. A few landscapes, places he's been. Mostly in the Down, but all over the city. Storefronts with shadowy customers coming and going, sunlight reflected in choppy waves. A couple armor studies from fights he remembers from back home. But mostly he's drawn people. Those he's met, talked to. A few he's seen on the street and doesn't know at all. There are several who repeat, though. Majima smoking a cigarette, Vanessa sitting in a tall backed chair, her back perfectly straight. Crais looking vaguely annoyed.

And Drake. Here and there, Drake appears. Giving that easy smile of his, observing the world quietly. Each time, he's been drawn with care. ]

[ Drake rests the book in his lap so he can turn pages one handed, not wanting to reclaim his arm from around Sharkface. The sketches are gorgeous, and he scans every page with care. Even though he doesn't know most of the people in the book, they're consistent and distinct, their expressions running the gamut from one drawing to the next. Sharkface has a talent for them, Drake thinks, for capturing emotion on the page.

He loses count of how many times he's seen himself, by the time he's gone through the filled pages. He breathes out and starts going through the book again backwards, just wanting to keep looking. ]

You might be the most talented person I've ever met, you know that?

[ He shifts so he can lean against Drake a little, watching it play out. How Drake takes his time with the images. Like he wants to memorize them. ]

Yeah?

[ He huffs a little, flashing Drake a faint smile. ]

You're gonna make me blush.

That's just incentive to keep complimenting you.

[ He glances away from the book for a moment to check if Sharkface is blushing now -- not yet. But he's smiling. Drake grins back, eyes sparkling with amusement even as he speaks more seriously. ]

I mean it, though.

[ Sharkface huffs again. He was good at this once. Talking to other people, making them laugh. Making them smile the way that Drake's smiling now. It felt good, nature. Not always easy - it was something he had to work at, to practice - but it was the sort of work he liked, that he didn't mind putting in.

It's different now. Harder. He thought it was beyond him.

Maybe not, though. Maybe he can still talk with people like a normal human being. ]

I don't show a lot of people. Mostly, they don't ask.

[ Mostly, he doesn't offer. ]

I like drawing you. The way you move through the world.

Always show me.

[ That was the first thing he'd ever learned about Sharkface -- that he was a great artist. Looking at his work still gives Drake the same thrill, the same joy and appreciation even if he's not educated in art. He just knows what he likes. ]

Yeah? I'd make a joke about you getting my good side but... you kind of got every side.

[ He tilts his head curiously. ]

What do you mean, move through the world?

[ That gets a faint huff. Sharkface settles against Drake, watching him. Wondering if maybe Drake will let Sharkface sketch him like this. Just for a little while. It doesn't have to be stiff. It could just be them, talking. Sharing space. Couldn't it? ]

How you talk with people. How you see them. Just - you. You pay attention.

[ It's hard to explain. Sharkface isn't sure he has the right words. ]

[ He absolutely would, especially if it'd make Sharkface happy. He's never posed for anyone before, not even Ephemera, but just talking, being together and holding mostly still is easy. Sharkface will have to ask, though, right now Drake's enjoying the contact. ]

It pays off. Watching people, seeing who they really are.

Yeah.

[ It's been a long time since he's just shared space with someone like this. Without it going sharp, without it turning violent in some way. Sharkface missed it, he realizes, and there's a pang of grief in his chest for all that he lost and knows he'll never get back. His brothers, his sisters. But for a long time he thought he'd never touch anyone again, not without violence, and now -

Sometimes it hurts. Sometimes it feels like it's going to ruin him. But not right now.

He clears his throat. ]

Can I draw you? Just. Just for a little while?

[ He's done it often enough from memory. But not like this. Not when they're in the same room. ]

[ Drake tilts his head at the grief that passes through Sharkface's expression -- he's pretty sure he knows who the other man is thinking about, and so pulls him in a little tighter hoping it's a comfort. He's about to change the subject when Sharkface does it for them, and the request has Drake perking up a little. ]

Of course... like this? Or should I move? I've never posed or anything.

[ Sharkface shifts to bump his head against Drake's. Gentle, just because he can. ]

Like this. We can keep talking. It doesn't. It doesn't have to be formal or anything.

[ Drake bumps back, feeling warm and content. It's amazing how the smallest gestures can make him so happy, but they do. ]

Okay. I like that, I can watch.

[ It'll be cool to see the drawing take shape. ]

[ He smiles a little, holding his hand out for the sketchbook. ]

Good. Good, we can do that.

[ It can be quiet. Simple. ]

How've you been?

[ Drake passes it back, settling against the couch and Sharkface a little more comfortably. How's he been...? ]

Honestly? Kind of lonely, in that 'there are lots of people around but I don't feel close to anyone' way. It reminds me a little of when I was back in Seattle.

[ Sharkface pulls a pen out as well, shifting so he can watch Drake and draw at the same time. ]

Yeah?

[ He tips his head to the side. ]

I get that. It's. I don't know. I feel like I can't breathe here.

Yeah, it's not great.

[ He wishes Sharkface had been in Hadriel, or... remembered it, whatever the case might be. But he should probably explain the comment about Seattle. ]

That's where I'm from... I worked undercover, so I couldn't really have connections. But I had to know and deal with a lot of people. It was like being alone in a crowd all the time.

[ There's something centering about sketching, about making any kind of art. It's not therapeutic, not like the counselor claimed, but it puts the world into its proper place. And then for a little while, things settle. They stay where they ought to be.

Sharkface watches Drake, nodding slowly. ]

You had to be on your guard all the time, didn't you?

Yeah. And couldn't tell anyone the truth, it was... I did a lot of good but I also kind of regret it. I never really got to have my own life and then I was dead, you know?

[ He watches the sketching, the lines appearing on the page with the promise of turning into something beautiful. ]

It's not so different here. I'm pretending, one way or another, most of the time. You're the only one I really trust.

[ There's a lot that Sharkface doesn't know about Drake's life before Duplicity. A lot they've shared, certainly, but not all. But he understands, he thinks. At least in part. You have to shut yourself off in a situation like that. Compartmentalize. It's about endurance, survival. And it takes a toll. ]

I've got your back.

[ It's said simply, a quiet promise. ]

Whatever happens.

[ Drake's expression eases, his smile returning. The trust shines in his eyes. ]

I know. Thank you for that.

[ That, Sharkface thinks. That's the expression he wants to draw. That quiet trust, how it shows in Drake's eyes.

He clears his throat. ]

And. I can come over more, if you want. I can bring my paints. Finish up the mural. Work on some other stuff. Whatever you want.

[ That's basically the best thing he could offer, to Drake. He nods, not wanting to make Sharkface feel pressured by his enthusiasm but... yes. He loves that idea. He'd give the other man a key if he didn't think it was too much too fast for him. ]

That'd be amazing. We'll have to pick more things for you to paint, I've got plenty of walls.

[ There are plenty of walls. Plenty of options. Sharkface smiles just a little. ]

You do. You'll have to think about what you want on them.

And you'll have to help me figure out how to arrange it so the transitions work. This place is pretty open plan.

[ Sharkface is the artist, he'll probably have an idea about that. In their Hadriel apartment Ephemera had started out painting randomly, sure, but in the end it had all flowed from one mural to the next. Drake misses it. ]

[ Sharkface makes a thoughtful sound, glancing out at the walls again as he sketches. The mural is fairly large, but there's plenty of room still. He could keep it simple, do landscapes that bleed into each other. Maybe even paint the ceilings to match. ]

I can do that. You want them all landscapes?

That might be nice. Just fill everything.

[ There are a few people he'd like portraits of, but that might actually be better not directly on the walls -- they have canvasses readily available, here. ]

We can go through the sketchbooks again for ideas, if you're okay with that.

[ Sharkface hesitates for a moment. ]

Yeah. But for some, maybe I could draw new things?

[ He knows the sketchbook is important to Drake. That it matters. That other version of him filled the pages. But it's not him. Or at least not entirely, or not right now. He'd rather add his own take on things a little. ]

[ Drake perks up at that, his smile returning easily. ]

Absolutely. Make it your own.

[ He trusts that it'll be great whatever Sharkface paints, and is curious now what designs he's considering. The book would just have been a starting point anyway. ]

[ Good. His smile is a little easier that time. He needn't have worried. ]

Thank you. It matters. Having places I can paint. Canvases are great, bu I think I like working on walls the best.

[ More space, more room to expand. ]

[ Drake nods -- there must be something creatively freeing about the space of a wall, about knowing where it'll be and how it'll look indefinitely. ]

I trust you, I love everything you paint. And obviously I'll buy the supplies.

[ Sharkface watches him for a moment, then nods. He keeps on sketching, in the meantime. ]

It helps. Knowing I can come here. Get away from the rest of it.

[ For a long moment, Drake is quiet and thoughtful. Then... ]

Do you want a key?

[ Oh. Sharkface stills, considering that. ]

You okay with that?

Yeah. I'd like knowing you had it, anyway. That you can come and go even if I'm not home.

[ It doesn't feel like home to Drake, not in the way that Hadriel did, but maybe it could. Maybe with more paint on the walls and coming back to Sharkface in the apartment every now and then. He grins again. ]

Paint, raid the fridge, whatever.

[ Sharkface smiles again. A little warmer than before. ]

All right. I’d like that, too.

[ A quiet place he retreat to. A safe place. He taps his pen against the sketch pad. ]

You wanna see?

[ Feeling warm and content, Drake turns his head to press a kiss to Sharkface's hair, then nods. ]

Show me.

[ He passes the sketchbook over, watching curiously for Drake’s reaction. The drawing is a little rough, not yet done, but the broad strokes are there. The span of Drake’s shoulders, the way he holds himself. How the light casts his face. And a quieter expression on his face, in his eyes. Something honest. Real. ]

[ Drake studies it for a long moment, struck once again that he's seeing himself how Sharkface sees him. It's beautiful even as a sketch, something he's never thought about himself while looking at photos or in the mirror. ]

You always manage to get expression in the eyes. How do you do that?

Practice.

[ Which is the honest answer. It takes a lot of practice. He works at it. ]

I dunno. Always liked drawing faces. Trying to get people just right.

Pretty sure I could practice for a lifetime and never come close.

[ He passes the book back, voice softening. ]

I love it.

[ Sharkface huffs, taking the sketchbook back. ]

Helps, having -

[ He smiles. Just a little. ]

Somebody worth drawing.

[ Drake smiles softly, leaning in to press his forehead to Sharkface's. ]

You can be real sweet, you know that?

[ He leans into the gesture, his eyes closing. He breathes out. And things settle, for a moment. ]

Sometimes, I guess.

[ Drake laughs softly, reaching up to run his fingers through Sharkface's hair. ]

Trust me.

[ It's soft. A small gesture, on balance, but a gentle one. He shivers a little, pressing closer. ]

I do.

[ Even now, he's not entirely sure how to explain that one. ]

Thank you. For this.

[ This is nice, Drake thinks. Just being together, even if he has to actively curb the instinct to go in for a kiss. Instead he twirls a lock of hair around his fingers and lets the moment settle. ]

Thank you... I know how hard it is to let someone in.

[ He breathes out and, to his own surprise, settles. Not completely - never completely - but he trusts Drake, and it feels safe. And he misses being held. Like how his family would. ]

This place is fucked.

[ Understatement of the goddamn century. ]

But I’m trying - I’m trying not to be sharp with people all the time.

[ Drake smiles encouragingly, even though Sharkface's eyes are closed he can probably hear it in Drake's voice. ]

You're doing great with me, at least.

It feels easier with you.

[ Not perfect. Not always painless. But - better.

Safe. ]

[ Drake's hand stills, curiosity scratching at the back of his mind. It can't hurt to ask, right? ]

...why, do you think? I mean, coming at you with what I did could've just freaked you out.

[ For a moment, there's no answer. ]

I don't know.

[ His voice is soft. ]

You could have lied to me. People do that. But I just ... believed it. Believed you.

[ Drake can't imagine lying to Sharkface. Not at any point, either time they met. It just... feels wrong even to think about it.

He smiles softly, brushing their noses together. ]

Guess I've got an honest face. But I'm glad you did.

[ Sharkface sighs and nuzzles closer. ]

You do. Think maybe I needed that.

[ Someone honest. ]

[ Closer is good, though at this point they're cuddled up in such a way that any more and someone's going to be in the other's lap. Not that Drake would mind that. ]

Everybody needs that. Trust is... really hard in the first place, you know?

Yeah.

[ He used to trust too easily. It's been used against him. But then he found his family, and that -

It hurts, still. But it was real. He loved them. He would have done anything for them. ]

It can go wrong.

[ But it hasn't, with Drake. ]

[ Drake hums in agreement, because... yeah. It can, and it can be horrible. But? ]

But if it doesn't, it's worth having.

Yeah.

[ He takes a slow breath. Lets it go. ]

Yeah, it is.

[ Like this. ]

Let me grab you that key. Just a second.

[ Drake pulls back slowly, brushing a kiss to Sharkface's hairline as he gets up, and disappears into his bedroom. He keeps the spares in a drawer in there. ]

[ Oh. Sharkface shifts, eyes open now. Watching Drake. ]

You sure?

[ There's a soft rummaging coming from the bedroom, then Drake's coming back with keys in hand. ]

I'm sure.

[ He reaches out for Sharkface's hand, placing the keys in his palm and folding his fingers around them. ]

You ever want company, or somewhere to paint, or just need a place to feel safe... you've got it here.

[ Sharkface shivers a little, but nods. He holds the keys loosely in his hand. ]

Okay.

[ Okay. He has a safe place to go. ]

Thank you.

[ Drake smiles, reclaiming his spot on the couch. ]

You're welcome.

[ And he holds out his arm invitingly. ]

[ Sharkface hesitates for a moment, then moves closer so he can press against Drake. So they can hold each other and just - be, for a little while.

He breathes out. And then he settles. ]

[ Guess who's soaking wet and knocking on Drake's doorstep. Sharkface shut himself away after shit went down on the beach, unwilling to risk company or conversation. He's come back to himself in the aftermath, though without much grace. And still the waters keep on rising, cold and filthy.

He holds the key in hand, but he knocks anyway. It feels better that way. So he's not barging straight in and making a mess on the floors uninvited. ]

[ It's late at night and Drake is tossing and turning, trying to fall asleep after what turned into a very long day of wading through floodwaters trying to help people. He'd taken a hot shower and crawled into bed. But he didn't get a summons, so he doesn't know what's happened yet, doesn't know why someone might be knocking on his door. Maybe a neighbor needs something?

He doesn't realize that despite having a key Sharkface might not want to use it, and so looks surprised when he answers the door to find him completely soaked and looking downright traumatized. Drake's expression quickly turns to alarm and he steps back to usher the other man inside. ]

What's wrong?

[ Something awful happened, that much is obvious. He starts to reach for Sharkface then rethinks the gesture, just motions for him to come farther in. Who cares about water on the floor? ]

I'll get you fresh towels, you have to wash off. You didn't get grabbed, did you?

[ It took time to remember himself afterward, once the chains were removed. There are marks on his wrists. Raised welts, and darker bruises. He fought. It didn't accomplish much. ]

Can I use your shower?

[ He wants to - scrub. To use soap. And dodge the question as long as he can. ]

Yeah, that's what I meant. Here.

[ The dodging has only made Drake more concerned, but it's clear that Sharkface isn't ready to talk about whatever it is. So he just grabs two towels from the closet and tosses them into the bathroom, nodding towards it. ]

I'll grab you a change of clothes and put them outside the door, okay?

[ He remembers Sharkface saying he didn't want to take clothes off around anyone. So he'll just wait in the living room, give him his space. ]

Call out if you need anything else, I'll be right there.

Okay.

[ He ought to say something, he thinks. Explain, even if just in small ways. But the words just don't come. Sharkface shakes his head and just heads to the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Breathe. You're fine.

He showers. He does it silently. Uses everything that has a scent, whatever he can find. Anything to erase the sting of salt. When it's done, he gives himself a once-over in the mirror. There are bite marks on his shoulder. He doesn't regret those. But the rest -

Hah.

Silently, he opens the door and grabs the clothes that Drake left him. ]

[ Drake is just waiting on the couch, since the worry has him now extremely awake. He thinks he hears the creak of the door at one point but Sharkface doesn't emerge yet -- he must've just been grabbing the clothes. Lucky that they're the same size, and he was sure to pick something with long sleeves.

He doesn't call out to check if the other man is done. He'll come out when he's ready. But he's starting to feel very restless... he gets up and crosses to the kitchen and pulls down two mugs. Padme left some spiced tea here the last time they had a meal together, he thinks that might be nice? Maybe? If nothing else it's something to do with his himself for a few minutes. ]

[ He dresses slowly. The shower helped. It got the salt off his skin, at least. He feels a little closer to a person in the aftermath. After a moment, he takes a deep breath and then pads out barefoot to the kitchen. ]

Hey.

[ He runs a hand through his damp hair. ]

Got a glass I can use? I want to take my eye out.

Yeah.

[ He reaches up into the cupboard again to grab one, setting it on the counter in front of Sharkface. Then he finishes up the tea and pushes one of those mugs over, too. ]

To help warm you up. If you don't like it I can make coffee but I figured since it's so late...

[ He wants to offer some comfort for whatever happened, but Sharkface is keeping his distance for now so Drake will just wait for him to come closer on his own. ]

[ He nods his thanks and pulls the glass closer, dropping his eye into it. Normally he'd cover it with a patch, or a bandage, but right now he's too tired to go hunting for one. The socket feels swollen, anyway. Aching. The shower helped, but -

Yeah.

He twitches, then reaches for the tea. He holds it in his hands for a moment, letting the warmth seep into his joints.

Breathe. You're fine. ]

Sorry. Thanks.

[ He feels - scattered, more than anything. Uncertain of himself. ]

Nothing to apologize for.

[ Drake takes his own mug, just to have something to hold on to. So he doesn't keep reaching for Sharkface when the other man might not be ready for it. ]

Do you want to talk about whatever hap--

[ It's then that he notices, glancing at how the other man is holding the mug, that there are bruises on his wrists peeking out from under the long sleeves. He wouldn't have noticed if they hadn't come down onto Sharkface's hands, like he was pulling hard to get out of restraints.

Breathe, he tells himself. His grip on the mug goes white, though. ]

...are you hurt?

[ Oh. That.

Sharkface stares at the mug. Feels the heat seeping into his joints, easing the ache. Pushing it away. He hurts tonight. He didn't in the moment. Things just sort of went numb, except for when they didn't.

He twitches. He tugs his sleeves down. ]

It doesn't matter. It's over.

[ He'll heal. He's not dead. It's his superpower. He always survives. ]

[ Drake feels anger welling up inside him at whoever the fuck hurt Sharkface... it was probably just this place, and there's no one for him to go threaten, but. He forces it down, forces himself to breathe and stay calm on the surface. Keep his voice gentle. ]

It matters to me. You don't have to tell me, but you can. I meant it that you're safe with me.

[ He tilts his head further into the apartment, towards the couch, towards the bedroom. ]

Do you want to sit? Or lie down?

[ He keeps on holding the mug. Watching the steam curl and rise. Then he wonders what would happen if he smashed it against the wall. If he heard it crumble. If it would burn his hands. ]

I -

[ He starts. Stops. The words die in his throat. ]

Yeah.

[ More than anything, he just wants to feel safe. Let it go quiet. ]

[ God, Drake thinks, what the fuck happened? He breathes out slow, then takes his mug and starts crossing back to the bedroom. Blankets sound nice even if they're just sitting. When he gets there he sets his mug down on the nightstand and sits back against the headboard, pulling the blankets up over his legs and holding them up for Sharkface to get in with him. Whether or not they cuddle is up to the other man but he's really hoping that Sharkface will scoot in right against him. He kind of needs to reassure himself the other man is alright, but also acknowledges that this isn't about what he needs. All he can do is be here. ]

[ For lack of a better idea, he takes the mug with him. Mayne he'll drink it, maybe just hold it for a little while longer. He ought to do something beyond staring at nothing, staggering through moments as his mind catches up.

It's hard to focus. He doesn't know why.

He twitches in the threshold, worrying at the sight of the bed and what that might mean, but he breathes out. Remembers himself, that it's Drake. And he sets the mug down on the nightstand and crawls in next to Drake. Presses against him without a word and closes his good eye tight. ]

[ Immediately Drake's arms encircle Sharkface, holding him against his side and stroking his hair. It's okay, he wants to say, nothing's going to hurt you now, but he doesn't know if that's true. Doesn't know anything but he can do this. He can be here, solid and warm and protective. ]

Match my breathing. You're safe.

[ His voice is soft and his breathing steady, even if inside he's a riot of emotion. He can do this. He promised a safe place and he's going to provide it, goddamnit. ]

[ For a moment, he tenses. Caught up in the memories, maybe. He can still taste the salt. Feel it against his skin.

Breathe.

He pulls his wrists to his chest, squeezing one tight in his hand. He's not restrained. He can get loose. He's fine.

Breathe. In and out. Survive, soldier.

He shivers, then does what he's told. Matches his breathing to Drake's as best he can. For a moment, it reminds him a bit of Paradise Falls. The aftermath, when Rodriguez and Eli held him. Promised he was safe and they'd stay with him, they'd protect him, and they did. They had his back. They kept him safe. And even when he woke up screaming, they stayed. They brought him back.

Breathe. Just breathe. ]

[ For what it's worth, Drake's hold is gentle. It's mostly just the weight of his limbs, not a restrictive grip. Sharkface can pull away whenever he wants, but Drake's hoping he doesn't. He can feel how tense the other man is, and even as he tries to do as he's told he's not relaxing yet. That's okay. It's okay, Drake's not going anywhere. He just holds him, and worries, and runs his fingers gently through Sharkface's slowly drying hair. Wishing he could do anything else to comfort the man.

They just sit like that for a long while, before Drake dares to speak again. ]

I'm sorry I wasn't there.

[ For whatever it was. He's supposed to have Sharkface's back and he wasn't there. The guilt twists sickly in the pit of his stomach. ]

You can stay as long as you want.

[ The moment stretches on. He breathes, matching the pace to Drake's. In and then out again. Steadying. It happened, and it cannot be changed, and the only thing left to do is survive. You have a job to do, soldier. So get it done.

He keeps his good eye closed, pressed against Drake. This is real. This is now. Not the salt, not the water.

Not the chains. ]

I couldn't get loose.

[ His voice feels strange. Distant. ]

Tried to break my fingers but I couldn't get the angle right.

[ It's not a surprising thing, but it still hits Drake hard. The image of Sharkface chained up somewhere, struggling to get free. He must not have been able to reach one hand with the other.

He swallows, dropping his hand from Sharkface's hair to reach down to where he's gripping his own wrist. He covers the other man's hand with his own, stroking his thumb over the tattoos on his fingers. It's over, but it's not okay. ]

How'd you get free, then?

[ He shivers, curling into himself. ]

Played along.

[ It wasn't much of a choice. But he could have fought harder. Could have -

Don't. ]

I didn't want to drown.

[ Played along? What does that-- oh. There's probably only one thing that means, considering what Duplicity is like. Drake feels sick, his pulse thudding faster as the anger twists in him again. Sharkface wasn't ready for that, and though it's better than drowning it still sparks something fierce and protective in him. And... jealous, maybe? That he'd let someone else touch him like that, even if he didn't actually want it. He shoves that down as an unhelpful emotion, and then the anger, just focusing on keeping his breathing steady for the other man. ]

I'm sorry.

[ He lifts his hand back to Sharkface's head, this time just cradling it against his shoulder with his hand protectively over the implant. It's all he can do now. ]

You made it through. You survived.

[ It's strange, he thinks. He ought to be angry. Raging. Anger would be more useful. He could turn it into something. Fuel for the fire, the mission he still has to complete. And yet.

And yet, he can feel himself shaking. Afraid, even though it's over. Even though it was nothing. He didn't drown. He only tore his wrists up. That's nothing, on balance.

Nothing at all.

He shifts, hiding his face against Drake's shoulder. Trying to match his breathing again. ]

Sorry. Uh. Losing my shit, a little.

It's okay. I get it.

[ The situation isn't, it sounds terrifying just in how vulnerable it made him, but needing to fall apart is absolutely understandable. Drake just holds him as he trembles, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. ]

[ Sharkface feels his breath hitch. God, that's pathetic. He can't even keep his cool. This is nothing. He survived. Only some bruises to show for it. That's nothing.

Nothing.

He shifts, curling into Drake, and wraps his arm around the man. He wants to just - stop. Not be here anymore. ]

This fucking place.

[ All this bullshit. ]

It got under my skin.

[ Hopefully it's okay if Drake holds him a little tighter at that, because he is. It's strange... both a relief that Sharkface is seeking contact and more intense worry, because it's not normal. He needs to be comforted and Drake feels at a loss. This isn't enough, it's... it hurts to see someone he cares about so much in this state. ]

What can I do?

[ He asks it softly, a murmur into Sharkface's hair. ]

[ There's a long pause. Sharkface breathes out slow. Then he shifts a little so he can rest his head against Drake's chest. Listen to his heartbeat. ]

Can I just. Stay here, for a little while?

[ Drake's heartbeat gives him away. It's pounding in his chest despite his steady breathing, his even tone. He's upset, just trying not to make this about him. ]

Yeah... of course, I--

[ Drake breathes out, reaching for composure. ]

It'd be good for them both, he thinks. Because in the aftermath, scared and hurting, Sharkface came to him for comfort. Is accepting it, even if Drake feels like he isn't doing enough right now. That's a huge step for him, and if this sets him back in other ways, they can hold onto this. Work on the rest. ]

I'm sorry it happened, but I'm really glad you came to me. Please stay.

It was just -

[ Sex, he starts to say. It was just sex, it could have been worse. He could have drowned. He could have died like the sergeant. But the words die in his throat. He swallows hard. Tries to push them away.

He focuses on Drake, as best he can. He can hear Drake's heart pounding, but Drake's voice is steady.

Good, Sharkface thinks. Good, okay. That's real. ]

...thank you.

...it wasn't just that.

[ Drake hesitates for a moment, not sure how to explain himself. Why he thinks it's a big deal, without making Sharkface more upset. ]

It was something done to you, not something you chose to do. That external pressure, literally 'do this or die,' it takes away your agency. It's wrong. And you're right to be upset about it. Not whoever helped you survive by doing it, just. The fact that it happened. I'm sorry.

[ Maybe it'd be easier if he could blame someone. A person, a target, an enemy he could strike. Instead it's just this place and all the fucked up ways it tries to mess with people. Twist them up. ]

They weren't.

[ He rocks forward. ]

They could have hurt me. Really hurt me. And they didn't. So why does that feel worse?

I'm glad they were decent.

[ He gives the question the thought it deserves, before speaking again. ]

I think... it's because you know what to do with pain. You know how to endure it, how to respond to it. This is different.

[ Something twists in him again, that it was someone else. That he wasn't there to help. No, he scolds himself, forcing it back down. ]

[ He turns that over in his mind for a moment, then exhales. It makes sense, in the end. Pain he knows. Pain he can use. This is another monster all together.

Hah. ]

I'd rather be alive.

[ It's said softly. ]

I didn't want to die like that for nothing. And I survived. I'm - here, now.

[ His breathing has steadied. This is better, he knows. ]

[ Drake nods against the top of Sharkface's head, thinking that that's a big step too. That he'd rather live than die for nothing, for stubbornness. It's a shitty thing that happened, but he's alive. He made that choice.

His vision is blurry, and when he blinks he finds that he's tearing up. Keep it together, Drake. He doesn't realize that a tear has fallen onto the scarred side of Sharkface's head. ]

I'm glad you're still here.

[ Sharkface shifts, lifting his head to peer at Drake. Is he - ?

Oh. ]

Shit. I didn't mean to. To make you sad.

Huh?

[ Drake blinks again, then realizes what happened. He reclaims one hand to wipe his face, frustrated. He's supposed to be the steady one, the one offering comfort. Goddamnit. ]

I'm fine. Really, it's just. Hard to think about you dying and not get a little choked up.

[ He offers a lopsided smile, settling his arm back around Sharkface. ]

But you're here.

[ Maybe he isn't good company right now, or ever. But it fees - better, somehow, to press against Drake. To match their breathing. Things are quiet now. Steadier in the aftermath.

Maybe, maybe they could be okay. ]

I'm here.

[ He exhales. Slow and steady. ]

And you're here. That's something.

[ 'And you're here,' he says, and Drake's expression softens again. He lifts a hand, brushing his fingers down Sharkface's cheek affectionately. ]

I'll always be here for you.

[ But that's a lie, isn't it? He wasn't there when this happened, only in the aftermath. He seems to realize that, expression darkening briefly, guilt twisting in him... but manages to refocus on the other man. ]

Maybe we should stick together for awhile?

[ It's a small gesture. Light, affectionate. Sharkface blinks several times, then leans into it. He's not certain how to read the expression that follows on Drake's face, but -

Context, he supposes. It's not a good time for anyone.

He exhales. ]

Yeah. Yeah, we -

We could do that.

It'd make me feel better.

[ He admits it sheepishly, continuing to cradle the other man's face when he leans into it. Brushing his thumb over Sharkface's cheekbone. Yeah, he'd feel better having him around more. This isn't about him, but communication is important. In that vein... ]

You're important to me, you know. You.

[ Whether he's another version entirely or actually Drake's Ephemera without memories doesn't matter anymore. They have something, trust and care at the least, and that matters. The promise to protect each other that he's already failed, but -- if he can keep this from happening again, he'll do everything in his power for it. ]

[ Sharkface watches Drake for a long moment. Even now, he’s hard pressed to explain exactly why Drake was different. Because there was something there, even at the start. That trust. It shouldn’t have worked but it did. It does.

He exhales. This place is fucked and they’re complicated. There’s history between Drake and that other version that Sharkface can’t remember. But this?

This fits. They fit.

He closes his good eye and nods just once. ]

I know. I trusted you from the start.

[ They have something, even if it's not the same yet. Something precious, to be protected. Drake smiles softly, then reaches down and pulls the covers up over them higher. Rubs Sharkface's back a little, hoping he's comfortable and warm and actually feels safe. ]

You should try to rest. I'll be here, I promise.

[ In some ways, it’s like being back home. Knowing that one of his team was there to watch his back, to stand guard while he slept. They always curled up together, fuck what anyone else said. Even in armor, they wanted that closeness. Needed it. Something human in the aftermath.

Like now. Like this. He nods slowly, curling against Drake. ]

Okay.

[ He still feels scraped raw, scoured, but exhaustion does it’s work. He sleeps, in the end. Restlessly, uneasily, but he sleeps. ]

[ Drake manages to sleep, too, finally, with Sharkface in his arms. When he wakes up they're cuddled close against each other, the other man half using him as a pillow. He can feel Sharkface stirring and shifts onto his side with a contented sigh so that they're facing each other. Still pressed close, legs tangled, one arm draped over his waist.

He bends his other arm up and brushes Sharkface's bangs away from his good eye, and just... looks at him. How peaceful he seems in this moment. Drake wishes it would last, but maybe he can still make this a good day. Make up for some of the awfulness that he's been through. ]

[ There might be dreams. Sharkface doesn’t remember them, though. Not this time. He shifts, still fuzzy from sleep, and instinctively presses closer to Drake. Seeking warmth, closeness. The sort of comfort he’d almost forgotten. He exhales and opens his good eye slowly, blinking.

Oh. ]

Hey.

[ His voice is soft. And it occurs to Sharkface then that the only time he’s slept in a bed in years, literal goddamn years, is with Drake. ]

[ Drake smiles at him, perfectly content with his snuggling closer. ]

Morning.

[ It's hard to tell, with how dark and stormy it is outside, but there is some light coming in through the half-drawn curtains. Drake rubs his hand along Sharkface's back, making no move to disentangle from him just yet. ]

You sleep okay?

[ It feels good. Sharkface shifts a little, wondering at that. His joints are aching with familiar pains, but there's a tenderness to his wrists that's all new. But the hand on his back feels nice, gentle, and he likes how it feels to press close. To feel Drake next to him, solid and strong. ]

Yeah. Didn't even dream.

Good.

[ He keeps stroking Sharkface's back, even as he stretches a little. Working out the morning stiffness. ]

You hungry?

[ Sharkface rolls his shoulders, considering. Then, to his own surprise: ]

Yeah.

[ He hadn't thought he'd have an appetite after the night before. But he does. ]

Okay. Gimmie a minute and I'll get up...

[ He's enjoying the morning cuddles, and still kind of waking up. ]

How do you feel about pancakes?

[ Sharkface pauses a moment. Then he huffs and smiles. ]

I like 'em. You got the stuff to make 'em?

Yeah, I should have everything. And bacon, I'm pretty sure.

[ He'll make a big breakfast. Maybe teach Sharkface to flip a pancake. It'll be nice, he just needs to get out of bed... ]

This is me getting up.

[ He presses their foreheads together for a moment, then reels his arm back and rolls over so he can sit up. It sucks and he's going into cuddle withdrawal already, but breakfast is important. ]

Try not to fall back to sleep.

[ And with that he pushes himself out of bed, raking his hair back as he pads barefoot out to the kitchen to start cooking. Coffee first. ]

Mhmph.

[ Sharkface flexes his fingers, working the ache out. There's a part of him that wants to ask Drake just to stay in bed and they can lie next to each other and just be, but he's hungry and he figures Drake is, too. He pushes himself up a little, dragging hand down his face. And Drake said he could stay, but -

Nah. Time to get up.

Sharkface exhales and heads into the bathroom to splash some water on his face. He looks tired. As expected, really. But still alive.

That matters.

He pads out into the kitchen, reaching for the cup with his eye to wash it out. ]

Can I help? I'm a shit cook, but -

[ He waves his hand vaguely. He can follow directions, at least? ]

[ Drake's got coffee brewing and all the ingredients out, and is currently measuring flour for the pancake batter. He glances over his shoulder and gives Sharkface a bright smile -- he was hopeful that the other man would want to help. ]

You can learn. Let me get it ready and I'll show you.

[ Sharkface smiles a little, moving over to the sink to rinse his eye out before popping it back in. He feels - better, he thinks. Closer to human in the aftermath. ]

Sure. I can do that.

[ The batter comes together quickly, and Drake turns the heat on the stove. ]

So the best way to tell if the pan is hot enough is to flick some water on it -- if it bubbles up and dances, we're good.

[ It doesn't take long before they get to that point. Drake motions Sharkface over and demonstrates pouring one scoop of pancake batter, then passes him the scoop. ]

Go ahead.

[ He watches curiously. Barrows always cooked for the team. Took over the task religiously and so Sharkface never really learned anything beyond wrangling MREs. But he tends to learn new things quick and this doesn't look all that complicated.

Besides. He likes pancakes. Sharkface nods, then takes the scoop and pours out some batter. Careful not to get too much. It's a little lopsided, but more or less pancake shaped. ]

Like that?

Yup.

[ Drake loops an arm around Sharkface's waist, resting his chin on the other man's shoulder and watching the pan. ]

Now we wait for the edges to bubble and start looking dry, that means they're ready to flip. If they're too brown on the other side we just turn the heat down.

[ The gesture feels almost natural, Drake coming up behind him and looping an arm around Sharkface's waist. Not hard. Not enough to pin him, or hurt him. Later, Sharkface will wonder why he didn't flinch. He stiffens a little, then reminds himself to breathe. And perhaps strangely, it's okay. He supposes they've earned this. This closeness.

He nods again, watching. ]

Doesn't sound too hard.

[ Drake waits patiently for the other man to relax into the touch, smiling when he does. They can have this, this closeness. It can just be something nice, something good in the midst of all this... everything Duplicity throws at them. ]

It's not. You've got this. I'll watch for these first two so you know what to look for, then pancakes are your job.

[ He also has eggs and bacon set out, he'll be making those on the other burner. ]

[ Sharkface nods slowly, watching the batter. Barrows would have done this back home, he thinks, and fights back a pang of sadness. He thinks Barrows and Drake would have gotten along. ]

All right. Teamwork.

[ They just stand like that for a little while, Drake lazily cuddling Sharkface while they watch pancake batter cook. It's not exciting, but it's close to a perfect morning for Drake. And soon enough they're looking like they're ready to flip. He reaches around Sharkface with his free hand to grab the spatula. ]

Okay, here's the fun part. You want to move quick, small sharp movements.

[ He flips the first pancake and hands Sharkface the spatula for him to try the other. ]

Go ahead.

[ Quick and sharp. All right. Sharkface watches Drake, eyes half-lidded. Content in a way he hasn't felt for a while. It's not that he's forgotten last night. Can't forget that shit. But he feels -

Human. Safe. A rare thing. ]

All right. Here goes nothing.

[ He takes the spatula and does his best to copy Drake's gesture. It's a little clumsy, but he doesn't squish the pancake and it ends up flipped. A little ragged, but still passable. ]

Congratulations, you can cook.

[ Anyone can be taught! It's pretty good for a first try, honestly. Drake turns his head and kisses the side of Sharkface's neck before pulling back to start on the other components. ]

Just give them a minute before you start checking the bottom, they should pull off the pan on their own when they're ready.

[ He cracks an egg into the other pan and just like that, they're making breakfast together. It's ridiculously domestic, and makes him stupidly happy. ]

[ He huffs, cracking a faint smile. ]

Shit. Guess I can.

[ Or at least he's not completely hopeless when it comes to learning. Hey, there are worse things. They're making breakfast. They're going to have breakfast together. ]

Thanks. For this. For showing me.

Of course. It's fun once you get the hang of it, I really like cooking.

[ Especially when he has someone to feed. ]

I should go for groceries at some point today... and do you need any of your stuff from the Down? We can go pick up your clothes and art supplies. And you should probably tell Lakshmi you're here, so she doesn't worry.

Edited 2021-07-13 03:39 (UTC)

[ Yeah. That. Sharkface doesn't answer immediately, watching the pancakes as they start to bubble. Not quite yet, he thinks. Give it another moment. ]

She's gone.

[ It's said simply. It's not like she died - or maybe it is like she died. But it cannot be changed, and there's no one he can track down and hurt to avenge the the wound.

He misses her. She made sense to him. He thinks they were forged in similar ways, walked similar paths. ]

[ Oh, shit. Drake pauses in what he's doing, the pit of his stomach dropping out. He didn't know her. Hadn't even gotten to meet her yet, but he knows what it's like to lose people in that way. For them to be there one day and gone the next, and it's a harsh reminder to him that it still happens here.

He breathes out, turning an egg gently. ]

I'm sorry. I know what that's like.

[ And he wonders, in some small part of his mind that he tries to ignore, if that's the only reason Sharkface came to him. Ultimately it doesn't matter, because he's here and he wants to stay. Drake just... wonders.

He shoves it down and brushes his fingers against the back of Sharkface's hand where it hangs beside his, offering contact and comfort. ]

We don't have to talk about it. But we can if you want to.

[ It's done and it cannot be changed. He's lost people before, his family first amongst the list. And even now, he's uncertain where Lakshmi fell on that scale. They were allies and she made sense to him in a way very little does in this place. Under different circumstances, if they'd been forced to cross purposes, they might have been bitter enemies. Here, they were allies. He thinks they might have been friends one day, if they'd had enough time. It was a different sort of connection than what he has with Drake, drawn across different lines, but no less real for it.

He exhales. He flips a pancake. It goes better this time. ]

She made sense to me. In a different way than you, but.

[ He hesitates, trying to find the words. ]

I'm glad she's not stuck here anymore. But I miss her.

[ Drake nods, completely understanding that sentiment. Every time someone who'd wanted to go home vanished, it was bittersweet. ]

It's complicated, and hard being the one left behind. But you're not alone here.

[ He doesn't bring up what he learned about contracts -- if she just left Sharkface should have a couple months, Drake will let Lakshmi's vanishing settle first. Let everything settle. See how they do living together, if Sharkface even still wants to.

He reaches for a plate, sliding the eggs out of the pan and tossing some bacon in next. ]

I'll grab your painting supplies after we eat, that sound like a plan?

[ It's not the first time he's been left behind. The last man standing. The grief still comes in sharp like it's the first time. Raw, brutal. Unending. But she isn't dead. That has to be something. You can't do shit when you're dead.

He exhales. At least he knew her. He liked her. He hopes she gets a better shot, wherever she ends up.

He flips another pancake. It comes easier this time. A little more smoothly. ]

Yeah. It's a plan.

[ He smiles a little. ]

My pancakes aren't completely shitty.

[ The change of subject is deliberate, Drake knows, but it's also the truth. The pancakes look as good as anything he would've made. He smiles back, leaning in to bump their shoulders playfully. ]

They're not even a little shitty. You pick things up quick... we're going to have to try something more complicated next time.

[ He watches Drake for a moment, then smiles. Sometimes when the two of them are in the same space, it feels - Sharkface isn't sure he has the right words for it, exactly. Peaceful, he supposes. He hasn't had that for a long time. ]

I'd like that.

[ He flips one of the pancakes onto the plate. ]

Never really learned how to cook, but I like this.

I'm not a chef, but I can teach you what I know. My ma... she was terrible in the kitchen, but she watched a ton of cooking shows. I picked some stuff up, and in Hadriel cooking was the only choice so I've gotten a lot better at it the past few years.

[ Even as a zombie he'd needed to eat normal food, and once he'd moved in with Ephemera it'd become less of a chore and more of something fun. Sharing whatever he came up with that day. ]

It's kind of creative, in a way. Except you eat it. Closest I get to art.

Yeah?

[ He flips another pancake over, considering that. Everybody needs something, he supposes. A way to put the world in context. ]

I get that. It feels good, getting it right.

Yeah... it's satisfying.

[ Drake turns the bacon, watching it sizzle in the pan. ]

You ever teach anybody art?

[ He shakes his head. One pancake left to flip, but it doesn't look ready quite yet. ]

I drew a tattoo for Barrows once. And I made stencils for people so they could paint their armor. Never taught anyone, though. Nobody asked.

[ Drake's quiet for a moment, thinking. He'd probably be terrible at it, but he'd like to learn. ]

Do you think you'd enjoy it? I'll trade you cooking lessons for art lessons.

[ He blinks, considering. ]

I'd give it a shot. See what happens. I like this - cooking. Learning from you.

[ Maybe it'd be all right, teaching Drake something. ]

[ Drake beams, serving up the bacon and turning off his burner. Breakfast is just about ready. ]

Worst case I suck at it but we still have some fun.

[ Sharkface smiles a little, and flips the last pancake onto the plate. It was a small collaboration, maybe. But they've got food now. A real breakfast. That's not nothing.

It feels human. Something real in the aftermath. ]

I can live with that.

[ Drake turns off the other burner as well, grabbing his plate and settling his other hand at the small of Sharkface's back. A light, casual touch. ]

Coffee should be ready. Wanna go sit down?

[ Sharkface hesitates at the touch, uncertain, but doesn't shy away. ]

Yeah. Food sounds real good right now.

[ Coffee, too. ]

Bring these over to the table? I'll be right there.

[ He passes the plate to Sharkface, then, dropping his hand and moving to make them coffee. He knows exactly how the other man takes it, after all. ]

[ Sharkface nods, accepting the plates. He's hopefully about the coffee. There wasn't anything but instant, shitty stuff in prison and these days he still tends to spend his money more on paints than food. But it could be nice, he thinks. Coffee, decent food, breakfast with someone who isn't going to shank him in the middle of it.

Like they're normal people. Isn't that something?

He sets the plates down and then snags a chair for himself, watching Drake fondly. ]

You didn't get caught out in the water for any of this shit?

[ Probably played it smart, like Sharkface should have. ]

Oh, I did. A whole bunch... the effects of the water really suck if you spend too much time out there, or don't shower fast enough.

[ He finishes making their coffees and gathers up utensils and syrup and comes over, setting the mugs down in front of their plates and passing Sharkface a fork before sitting. ]

A few days ago I saw a posting that somebody's partner was missing... spent the whole day canvassing the Down. That was miserable.

[ And yet he's going to go back out there to get Sharkface's stuff for him. ]

[ He twitches a little, but nods at Drake when the coffee appears. He tugs it closer, hunching over his food. An old prison reflex. ]

Yeah, it's not fun.

[ It really wasn't. He takes a sip of coffee, huffing in surprise when he finds it exactly as sweet as he likes. ]

Did you find them? The partner?

No, nobody's seen him since we last did... I think he might've drowned, and I haven't heard back from his partner since either.

[ Drake cuts a bite of pancake but doesn't eat it yet. ]

I'm worried about him.

Shit.

[ Sharkface touches his knuckles to his mouth, then drops his hand. ]

Drowning's a bad way to go.

It is, yeah... I just don't know what else could've happened to him, he doesn't seem like the type to not reach out.

[ Sharkface exhales, then pulls his plate closer. He puts butter on his pancakes, then syrup. Why not, right? ]

They sure he's still in the city?

Yeah, his device is working, it just goes to voicemail.

[ Sharkface frowns. ]

No way to track that?

Not that we have. The city probably could... I don't know who to ask but I'll suggest it to Ray if he ever calls me back.

[ Sharkface nods slowly, chewing on his food. ]

You go back down there, I'll back you.

...are you sure?

[ After what he's been through, nearly drowning in chains... Drake was perfectly fine having him wait here where it's safe and dry while he fetched Sharkface's things.

On the other hand, he's rescued a handful of people from being pulled under and drowned himself... it wouldn't hurt to have backup just in case. ]

Yeah.

[ He takes another bite of pancake. It's good. And the answer is a simple one. If Drake's going out there, then Sharkface will back him. ]

Shit. This is probably the best breakfast I've had in a while.

Thank you, then. The water monsters have been pretty aggressive, it'll help.

[ He takes a sip of his coffee, then smiles at Sharkface's comment. ]

Yeah? And you made it.

Be easier if I had armor, but I'll watch your back.

[ And try not to drown. All that fun stuff.

He huffs a little, smiling. ]

Made the pancakes. I did all right.

To be fair, most things seem like they'd be easier in armor.

[ But he appreciates that Sharkface is coming. He did get used to having someone watching his back in Hadriel. ]

Think about what else you'd like to learn to make? We'll stop for groceries on the way back.

Most things are.

[ There are reasons he wants his back so badly. Sharkface considers that for a moment, drinking some coffee. ]

Noodles. And maybe stir fry?

[ Of course. Drake grins, nodding. ]

Those are pretty easy, though there's a lot of prep work. I'll show you.

[ It's something for them to do together that isn't about the quota. Isn't about this place at all, just them. He likes the idea of that. ]

[ Sharkface sips his coffee, nodding. ]

I'd like that. There anything you want to learn how to paint? Or draw, I guess?

I mean... people would be nice, but that seems like pretty much the hardest thing possible so not what I should start with, right?

[ Sharkface shrugs a little. ]

I mean, it's what I started with. At least you're interested in the subject. Figure that matters.

Yeah? Maybe there's hope for me yet then. Do you start with features or the general face shape, or what?

Depends if you're doing a whole composition, making sure it fits within something larger or not. Then I start with the shape. But if it's just a portrait, then I start with the eyes. Build from there.

Start with the eyes... I like that.

[ And he meets Sharkface's good one, grinning. ]

You have to promise not to laugh at how bad I am starting out.

[ Sharkface huffs for a little, watching Drake. His expression softens, nothing but fond. ]

Promise. Everybody's gotta start somewhere.

[ Drake just looks at him for a moment, at his soft expression. Hears the fondness in his voice. It's more than he dared to have hoped for when they first ran into each other here, really. But Sharkface keeps surprising him. Keeps doing and saying things that make Drake think no matter what version of themselves they are they're going to have something special.

He reaches over with his free hand and puts it over Sharkface's, endlessly grateful. And it's not about the art lessons. ]

I'm glad you're staying.

[ Drake's hand feels warm over his. Steadying, but not trapping him. Sharkface watches him for a moment, then smiles again.

A small expression. But a real one. ]

You've always been honest with me. It matters. And you -

[ He hesitates, trying to find the right words. ]

I don't know if I can explain it. But you -

You matter. To me.

[ Drake gives Sharkface's hand a little squeeze, gentle but there, and his fingers curl under the other man's in a quiet an invitation to hold on. ]

You matter to me, too. That's not something we have to explain.

[ It sounds simple, putting it that way, but it runs deep. Even here, even though Sharkface doesn't remember it, there's no one more important to Drake. He's stopped picking it apart to try and understand his feelings. ]

Eat up. It's hell in the Down, you'll need your energy.

[ It helps, Drake saying it. That they don't need to explain it, quantify it. That maybe this thing just is and that's okay.

They're okay.

He squeezes Drake's hand. ]

Okay.

[ The rest of breakfast passes quietly, but it's a comfortable sort of quiet. Peaceful. But then it's time to deal with the storm outside and the chaos of the Down -- Drake grabs some trash bags to take down so they can keep things from getting soaked on the way back up, and crosses his fingers that Sharkface's apartment wasn't too much of a casualty of the flooding. That there's stuff left to salvage.

It's just as bad in the Down as it was the day before. Drake loops his arm through Sharkface's as they wade into the waters on the way to the apartments, just in case something grabs one of them like the people he's been saving from drowning recently. After what the other man went through Drake just doesn't want to risk it. But they make it to his place without a major incident.

It's water damaged, that much is obvious. But it's not under water, which is good, Drake thinks. He pulls out the bags and passes one to Sharkface so they can start packing. The less time they spend down here, the better. ]

Are your paints okay?

[ It's a goddamn mess in the Down, just like when he left it, but at least this time nothing tries to drown them. They go slow just in case, careful about how they move, and Sharkface is thankful for the backup. Someone to cover his blindspot, to watch his back. ]

Think so. I'll check them later.

[ They're sealed. That ought to make a difference. A good number of his brushes are ruined, though. And the mural -

Yeah. That's a mess. Maybe he can fix it, maybe he can't. A thought for later.

He starts packing up what he can save, though. It's better than nothing. ]

Thanks. For watching my back.

[ While Sharkface deals with going through his art supplies, Drake grabs his clothes. The upper drawers of the small dresser and the closet seem fine so those go in one bag, the lower drawers that have gotten wet in another. He's hoping that he can wash them for the other man and they'll be okay -- it's nice stuff, presumably that Lakshmi bought him.

He glances up at the comment, lips curving into a tiny smile. ]

Thanks for watching mine. We're not out of the woods yet, though.

[ There's still the trip back, through dangerous waters. Drake's not letting his guard down. ]

Yeah.

[ Still have to get back. Do it all over again. He drags a hand through his hair. Exhales. ]

One thing at a time. There anybody else you wanna check on while we're down here?

Not that I can think of -- I'm pretty sure everyone I know is already evacuated. Along with a bunch more I helped get to the Up the past week.

[ His priority right now is Sharkface, anyway. Getting his stuff back and into the washer, hitting the grocery store, making sure he doesn't have to work tonight. But maybe there's still someone down here the other man knows. ]

What about you? Anybody you'd want to check on?

[ He shakes his head. ]

Checked in on some people earlier, but they're doing all right.

[ Got places to stay. They can handle themselves. And it's odd to realize that he does have people he cares about here, people he'd go back for, but -

It happened. It did. ]

Think I've got most of it. I'll have to test everything to be sure, but it could be worse.

Glad to hear it.

[ If they're important enough for Sharkface to check on, then Drake cares by proxy.

He ties off the bags he's packed so they're as waterproof as possible and straightens up, turning back to Sharkface. ]

You can test everything back at my place... I'll need to run half your clothes through the washer but I think they'll be okay. Ready to head back up?

Yeah.

[ He scans the room again, just in case. The far wall stands stark. He can see the lines underneath the muck, the intention behind it, but the colors are all muddled now. ]

Mural's shot. I'll try and come back and fix it when things are better.

Yeah... you can't paint underwater.

[ And honestly he doesn't like the thought of Sharkface returning to this place but... he'll give the guy some time for it to settle before he proposes a new contract, and maybe moving in for real. Right now it feels like too much too soon.

They leave the apartment and wade back into the floodwaters, Drake hefting the bags of clothes on his shoulders. He doesn't have a spare hand to keep hold of Sharkface now, though. ]

Stay real close? I've seen too many people get dragged under.

Nah.

[ Not without armor, anyway. There's no use in sticking around and so they don't. Just pack up their shit and head out. Once more into the fray and all that. Sharkface scans the area as they move, watching for anything strange. Anything at all. ]

Noted. And we should scrub when we get back. Think there's something in the water. Makes people sick.

You can grab the shower first, I'll put everything in the wash.

[ They trudge through the water towards the elevator, keeping a sharp eye out. Drake's hoping that seeing two people together will keep the monster from going for them, knowing there's someone to help their prey... but there might be more than one, after all. Gotta stay alert. ]

[ He clicks his teeth in agreement. So far, nothing's attacked them. They haven't even gotten tripped up on the debris. It's going well. He knows better than to trust that. ]

Later, you mind if I do some painting? I could use it.

[ The distraction. Something like peace. ]

[ Drake nods, shivering in the cold water. It's not surprising that Sharkface would want to paint, after what he went through the night before. It's actually promising he chose that as his outlet, too, as willing as Drake would've been to spar with him. ]

Yeah, 'course you can. I've got plenty of walls, artist's choice what you put on 'em. What do you feel like painting?

[ He smiles a little, trudging through the water. A shower's going to feel great after this. Maybe less fraught than the night before. He feels better now. In control, centered. That might not last - things usually don't in this place - but it's something. Maybe enough to build from. ]

Not sure yet. Something detailed. I take requests.

[ The elevator will be in sight around the next corner. Drake hustles, readjusting the weight of the bags. ]

I know, but I promised you free reign... and I like seeing what you come up with. If you really want direction, I was thinking a nighttime cityscape for the bedroom?

I can work with that.

[ It’s a place to start, at least. A prompt to work from, something that he can make his own. A cityscape at night. Lights in the dark.

Yeah, he can work with that. He’s feeling better now. Centered. It might not last and he knows that, but for now, things feel like they’re riding even. He’s calm in a way that he rarely is these days. Whatever the reasons, Sharkface accepts it. He and Drake are figuring each other out. It feels natural. Easy. Always has.

He misses Lakshmi and that understanding, different than the one he has with Drake, but she’s gone. Hopefully not dead. But if she’s still kicking, then she’ll fight. That has to count for something. ]

I’ll test my paints first, see what needs to be replaced. But I can start blocking it out when we get back.

That sounds great. I can't wait to see what you come up with.

[ They make it to the elevator with only a few scares -- Drake figures one of them must've kicked debris under the surface, but nothing grabs them. The buddy system works, and once again he's glad Sharkface came along. He probably couldn't have carried everything himself, anyway.

The rest of the journey back is uneventful, peaceful even. A familiar presence at his side, with the promise of that lingering. Drake's pretty sure it won't last, not here, but they can have it for awhile.

They get into his apartment and he heads straight for the laundry. ]

Grab a shower, I'll put clothes outside the door again.

Yeah.

[ Sharkface hesitates for a moment, setting his bag of paints down. He'll check them after he showers, after he makes sure that nothing in the water got under his skin this time around. ]

I know I said it before, but. Thank you.

[ Drake hesitates before ducking into the laundry room. ]

Thank you. For being here... I think I'd go nuts on my own.

[ He smiles quietly, then nods towards the bathroom. The faster Sharkface showers, the faster he can. He's already feeling a little hot and itchy. ]

[ Sharkface nods just once and then retreats to the shower. Time to scrub. He doesn't take long this time. And when he's done, he changes into clean clothes and then heads out, humming to hhsemlf. ]

You're up. No side effects?

[ Drake's run the first load through the wash, tossed it in the dryer, and has a second load in. He's still in his own wet clothes, though, sitting at the kitchen island looking dazed and flushed. ]

I'm uh... I don't feel so hot.

[ Shit.

And just like that, he's in mission mode. Sharkface hurries over, leaning in so he can check Drake's pupils. ]

Hey. Hey, focus on me. What's wrong?

[ They're dilated, and he feels overwarm and is breathing a little too fast. It's just whatever drugs were in the water, but it might be too late for just a shower to take care of it. ]

I just... need to wash up. Right?

[ Sharkface hesitates for a moment, then reaches out to cup Drake's face in his hands. A test, to see if it makes a difference. If it's gotten to the point where touch eases it, then -

Well. Then they're probably already in it. ]

You're gonna be okay.

[ He keeps his voice soft. ]

I got you.

[ It does help. A little focus comes back to Drake's eyes and he reaches up to put a hand over one of Sharkface's, breathing easier. ]

I know. Thanks -- can you get me some water? Then I'll shower.

[ Shit. Sharkface breathes out slow, bowing his head a little. He hates this, he thinks. The fact that it's never a goddamn choice around here. He smooths his thumb over Drake's cheek and nods. ]

Yeah. I'll get you some.

[ Maybe showering will help. They can hope, right? ]

[ Even drugged, Drake's not oblivious. Something's bothering Sharkface, he seems almost angry. ]

...hey, what's wrong?

[ And of course Drake notices. Drake always does. Sharkface slows his breathing down deliberately, trying to center himself. Stay in control, present. ]

You'll be okay. It passes.

[ One way or another. He swallows hard. ]

I'll be right back. Just gonna get some water for you.

Yeah, it'll pass. Thank you.

[ He said that already, didn't he? Well, it's not a bad thing to reiterate. Drake waits patiently, eyes closed, remembering the feel of the other man touching his face. Screw the drugs, he's not going to do anything they don't want.

Sharkface returns with glass in hand and Drake takes it and drinks, determined to flush things out of his system. Then he's getting up carefully and making his way to the bathroom.

The door closes. Water starts running. Then there's a loud thud. ]

[ There's nothing to do but ride it out. It's just more of the city's bullshit, Sharkface knows. It isn't meant to kill them, just fuck them over in small, predictable ways. He lingers by the door just in case, worrying.

Wisely, as it turns out. He doesn't bother asking what's wrong, just shoves the door open. ]

[ Drake hasn't even made it into the shower, though he's got it running hot. Being so unsteady he fell getting his pants off and whacked his head on the edge of the sink, and is lying there in his underwear clutching his head, dazed.

When the door opens his eyes go wide -- this is embarrassing. It's sweet that Sharkface was worried, and perhaps he was right to be, but. Embarrassing all the same. ]

I'm okay.

[ It comes out a little shaky. ]

[ Fuck. Sharkface kneels down, reaching out to touch Drake's face for a better look. Make sure his eyes are tracking. There's a job to do, someone to check on, and this time - this time - he doesn't even hesitate at the contact. ]

How hard you bang your head?

[ Drake's not used to being taken care of. He lowers his own hands and holds perfectly still, as if leaning into the touch will break the moment, make Sharkface think twice about reaching for him. ]

Just a lump.

[ He's not bleeding, but with the way his head was already spinning it's hard to tell if he's going to be concussed. His eyes are tracking, near black with how wide his pupils are. ]

[ There's no blood, at least. No slurred speech. But the way that Drake's eyes have blown worries Sharkface. This is bad. Worse than he was expecting.

Shit. He exhales slowly. ]

Okay. Grab my shoulder, let's get you up. Try and get some water on you.

[ He'll hold Drake up if that's what it takes. ]

[ Drake nods, reaching up to grip Sharkface's shoulder and steady himself. It's an effort to get up and he sways once he's on his feet, but doesn't fall again. ]

I'm sorry.

[ The other man didn't sign on to babysit. But with Sharkface's support, he gets into the shower, still in his underwear. He doesn't dare pull them off first. It's not that he's shy, it's that he 1) doesn't want to fall again and 2) doesn't want to make Sharkface uncomfortable with his nudity. His head feels clearer while they're touching, but sparks an entirely different kind of heat. And on top of that he doesn't expect the other man to hang around while he bathes. ]

I think if I sit it'll be okay. You don't have to stay.

I got you.

[ He's committed now. This is what they're doing. Sharkface keeps his footing as they go, mindful of where he steps. Last thing they need is to both go crashing to the ground. He steps into the shower, heedless of the water and how it's soaking into his clothes.

This needs to be done, so he's doing it. He holds Drake steady. ]

It's okay.

[ At least it's clean water, and they're already doing laundry. Still, Drake's surprised when Sharkface steps in with him to hold him up. He nods gratefully, reaching a shaky hand for the soap. ]

I owe you a really nice dinner after this.

[ Sharkface exhales, shifting to press his head against Drake's. A small offer of comfort. He's careful with how he holds Drake, so he won't leave bruises but still keeps him steady. It's not the first time he's done this for someone. Only the last time was with Rodriguez, when his brother was drunk off his ass, so far gone he couldn't see straight and walked straight into a door. But that was what they did for each other. Family. They took care of each other. ]

I'm easy. I'll eat anything.

[ Drake starts scrubbing himself, trusting Sharkface to keep him from falling again. The contact helps, and he tips his head back a little to keep their heads together. It's steadying emotionally as much as Sharkface's grip is physically, and he's endlessly grateful for it. ]

Stir fry. Over noodles. I think we've got all the stuff.

[ Sharkface closes his good eye, breathing out slow. He's got a decent grip on Drake, he can do this for a while.

They'll be okay. ]

Stir fry's great.

[ He holds steady, listening to the water and Drake's breathing. ]

It helping any?

It's not getting worse anymore.

[ Which means that it will get better. Drake keeps scrubbing, his free hand over one of Sharkface's where it's holding him steady. Another quiet thank you.

It does improve by the time he's fully washed, though, some of the throbbing, uncomfortable heat abated. His head a little clearer. And then he just lets the hot water pound on him a moment before he reaches to turn it off and leans back against Sharkface, resting his head on the other man's shoulder and grinning sheepishly. ]

Not how I envisioned our first shower together.

[ It's a weak joke, but clearly a joke. ]

Thanks. Really.

[ Sharkface huffs, bumping his head against Drake’s. They’re both soaked now. ]

I’ve had worse. And weirder. Least you weren’t hallucinating. That’s really not fun on tile.

That sounds awful. Did that happen to you?

[ They're both soaked, but at least the water is clean. Drake finally pulls back from Sharkface's embrace carefully, but finds he's steady enough that they can get out of the shower. ]

Come on, let's put on dry clothes... and then I think I need to lie down while this wears off the rest of the way.

Yeah. Got a puncture in my rig during a chem attack. Wasn’t fun. Dane held me up while I was ranting about seeing wolves in my corners.

[ A bad night all around. Sharkface steps back, watching Drake carefully the whole time. ]

All right. You want me to get you some more water?

[ Drake makes a soft, sympathetic 'oof' sound, shedding his soaked boxers and wrapping a towel around his waist. It's nothing Sharkface hasn't seen before, after all. Then he's carefully making his way out of the bathroom, headed for clothes. He's ready to be dry and warm.

He smiles a little at the offer, nodding. ]

That'd be great, yeah.

[ Sharkface nods and heads back into the kitchen for a glass. Who knows what the long term affects of this stuff will end up being? Best thing is to keep Drake hydrated for now.

He pads back in and sets the glass on the nightstand. ]

You good? Not seeing double or anything?

[ Drake has dried off and pulled on some pajama pants, and set out fresh clothes for Sharkface. He takes the glass gratefully and gestures to them. ]

Not anymore. I'm still dizzy, though. It's kind of like being super high past the point of it being fun.

[ He leans back against the headboard tiredly, sipping his water. ]

I might fall asleep while you're painting. If you hear the laundry singing can you put stuff in the dryer?

[ Hey, dry clothes. Sharkface nods in thanks and starts stripping out of his wet ones. Whatever issues he has with touch, he's not body shy. Not really, not at the end of the day. Modesty was the first thing the instructors killed in training. ]

Yeah, I can do that. I'll keep an eye on you.

[ They'll be okay. ]

[ Drake watches Sharkface change -- not leering, just admiring as he finishes his water. ]

Sorry you have to babysit me. I know this isn't what you signed up for when you said you'd stay.

[ He shrugs, pulling on a fresh pair of pants. He doesn't bother with socks this time. ]

's all right. You've looked after me plenty.

[ Drake didn't have to go back to the Down with him. But he did. And so, here they are. ]

Just rest.

Don't let me sleep past dinner. I promised.

[ He does settle down, though, lying facing the blank wall so he can watch Sharkface paint while he's trying to nod off. ]

Deal.

[ He flashes Drake a faint smile. He's looking forward to that food. And then he starts his work, humming a little under his breath as he goes. It's detail work, it takes focus. He could use that right now.

Bit by bit, he finds a rhythm. Bit by bit, he settles. ]

[ Drake watches for awhile, until the lines appearing on the wall are so blurry he has to close his eyes. And then he naps to the familiar sound of Sharkface humming while he paints. It's comforting.

He doesn't wake up on his own, please wake him. ]

[ The work carries him through for a while. Sharkface works quietly, putting lines up on the wall. Blocking for the project to follow. He likes to lay things out first, figure out how the elements will interact. And for a while, he loses himself in the process.

He keeps track of time, though, and he sets his pencils and ruler down when it comes around time for dinner. He steps over to Drake's side and reaches out to touch his arm, gentle. ]

Hey.

[ Drake stirs blearily, opening his eyes to see that familiar face filling his field of vision. For a moment he's confused -- this isn't their room -- but then it comes back to him. Luckily before he could reach up and playfully tumble his partner back into bed for cuddles. Instead he reaches up and rubs at his eyes like a sleepy child. ]

Hey. Dinnertime?

[ His expression softens briefly. Drake looks calm. At peace. ]

Hey. Yeah, figured it was that time.

[ Whenever Sharkface's expression softens like that at him, Drake wants to kiss him. It's a problem. He smiles back quietly instead, pushing himself up to sitting.

He feels better. Clearer, if still a little overwarm even though he fell asleep without the blanket. Good that the drugs are flushing out. ]

I'll get things started. You wanna hang out with me, or keep painting?

I'll hang with you. You mind if I watch you cook?

[ Might as well get some idea of how it goes. He wants to learn, anyway. ]

I'd love that. I can explain what I'm doing, but it's all pretty easy. You'll see.

[ He gets up, detouring briefly to pull on a t-shirt, and leads Sharkface back to the kitchen. ]

Okay so this is really just throwing whatever you've got in the pan, the secret to it's the order you cook things in, and the sauce. Some vegetables cook faster than others.

[ Sharkface pads after him, rolling his shoulders. ]

Yeah? Like what?

[ Drake opens the fridge, pulling out meat and a variety of vegetables -- chicken and carrots, broccoli, peppers, snap peas -- then a cupboard for onion and garlic. He explains that the carrots and peppers will take a little longer and that onions should always go in first but garlic will burn. Still, it's just throwing everything in one pan. Not as hard as it might sound. ]

But first we're going to make a marinade for the meat so it can sit while we chop up and start the vegetables. Do you want to help or just watch?

I think just watch this time.

[ Take it all in. ]

Unless you want me to chop stuff. I can probably do that just fine.

I'll chop, then, give the meat some time to marinate.

[ He pulls down some bottles and spices from an upper cupboard and makes a quick sauce, explaining the basic proportions, then offers the spoon for Sharkface to taste it before he adds it to the bowl of meat. He's trying not to bombard the other man with too much information at once, but on the other hand, Sharkface learns fast. It'll balance out. ]

We'll hold back a little and add cornstarch towards the end, putting that in will thicken it up.

[ It's like chemistry, in a way. Sharkface never did so hot at that in high school, but he picks things up quick. There are clear rules, a logic he can follow, and then you get food at the end. What's not to like? He nods along as Drake explains, watching closely. ]

How'd you learn this stuff anyway?

[ Drake keeps going, putting the meat to marinate and starting to chop the vegetables. ]

My ma was a terrible cook, but she watched a ton of cooking shows.... I picked a bit up from that, I guess. Learned just enough to impress a date. But I didn't really have to cook regularly until Hadriel where takeout wasn't an option. Everything there was terrible canned shit unless you made friends with somebody who had a garden, or fished, you know?

[ And he'd made friends with all of those people, because he had someone to feed. Someone he wanted healthy, someone who lit up tasting things he'd never had before. Drake smiles a little. ]

The other you, he didn't complain, but admitted he missed things. So I figured out how to make them. Wasn't easy... the way I was there, I couldn't taste much, but our friend Lup helped a lot. And after years of cooking every day it turns out you get pretty good at it.

[ They haven’t talked about Hadriel and that other version of him in a while. Truthfully, Sharkface doesn’t want to know. It just knots things up and he isn’t that man, cannot be that man, so why dwell and just make it more complicated?

But it happened. It mattered. And now -

Sharkface rocks back on his heels, uncertain all over again. ]

Guess you would. It’s better than prison food. A lot better.

[ And it’s clear how much Drake cared for that other version of him. ]

[ Drake doesn't plan on drawing it out -- just enough to answer the question. His partner missed things; he figured out how to make them. But he can tell even that made Sharkface a little uncomfortable so he seizes on the new topic. ]

Prison food was awful, agreed. I can only imagine it's worse in space, too.

[ Maybe they don’t have to dwell. Maybe that’s for the best. Sharkface clicks his teeth. ]

How long were you in for?

[ No dwelling here. Drake keeps chopping, moving the conversation right along. It's easier for him, too, to talk about other things. ]

About two years. I got really lucky with my sentence.

[ In his old life, Sharkface wouldn’t have called two years a long time. Then everything blew up in his face and he ended up in prison, and time changed its equations for him. He exhales slowly, nodding. ]

Lucky how?

We argued it was a provoked assault, not aggravated, and the judge went easy on me. The time I did do was for "going overboard."

[ He shrugs, finishing up with the peppers. ]

I was pretty young, too.

[ Sharkface watches Drake for a long moment, wondering. ]

I won’t ask, if you don’t want me to.

I don't mind talking about it. But you might look at me a little differently after hearing the story.

[ It's just a warning, not a way of getting out of telling it. ]

My father split when I was little, and my ma had this string of abusive loser boyfriends. The worst was this guy named Frank... so I'm 19 and I come home and find ma in the kitchen, crying. Black eye, blood all over. And Frank's watching tv with his hand down his pants, calling out for another beer. I'd just had enough, you know? We got into it, and he pulled a knife... and something in me snapped. I think I would've killed him if ma hadn't pulled me off, I just kept going after he was down. I didn't. But it turned out I paralyzed him.

[ Finished chopping, Drake sets the knife down to rummage in the cupboard for the bottle of oil. He's not looking at Sharkface, not yet. ]

I did my time. I got help for my temper. But that happened. I pled guilty.

[ He's not certain what to expect when Drake begins telling the story and so he just rocks back on his heels and listens, taking it in. Drake keeps working as he lays it out, one detail after another.

Oh, Sharkface thinks, and exhales. ]

I'm sorry. That's a hell of a thing to go through.

[ Drake finally looks back at Sharkface, nodding slightly in acknowledgment of his sympathy. ]

Everybody's got something in their past, right? Some defining moment.

[ It doesn't compare, in his mind, to Sharkface losing his whole family. But in a way, it was a turning point for him just like that was for the other man. A moment after which, they decided who they were going to be.

It's not so different. ]

Anyway, uh... can you fill that pot with water for the noodles? I'm gonna start actually cooking things, finally.

Yeah. Something they carry.

[ He does. It's a common thread. An expected wound. Their worlds aren't that different in the end. At least in that regard.

Sharkface clears his throat. ]

Got it.

[ Fill the pot with water. Simple. He can do that. He hesitates for a moment, though. ]

...thank you. For telling me.

[ Something they carry... Drake likes that. It rings true. He smiles faintly at Sharkface, then wipes his hands on the towel hanging from the stove and reaches over to take the other man's hand for a moment. ]

I trust you.

[ To understand. To not think he's a monster for being capable of that. To keep it quiet... and just in general, honestly. ]

[ Oh. Sharkface hesitates a moment, then squeezes Drake's hand. ]

I know.

[ Whatever this thing is, it's done the work. There was trust between them from the start. Somehow, impossibly, that was always true. ]

So. How much water do I add?

[ It felt like he needed to say the words. To articulate a feeling he has about this man, who's someone different but still so important to him. He could fall in love all over again easily, he thinks, if he let himself.

Drake squeezes back, then lets go so Sharkface can grab the pot. ]

Leave about three inches at the top. Then lid it and put it on the stove on high heat so it boils.

[ Sharkface shifts so he can bump his head against Drake's. Not hard, and not for very long, but the gesture is there. It matters, like this does. ]

Got it.

[ Once the pot's on to boil, Drake puts a little oil in the pan and starts cooking the veggies, explaining the order as he goes. Onions first, always. Then carrots and peppers, broccoli and snap peas. Then the chicken to brown a little before anything else. ]

You kinda just feel when stuff is done. Here, try it.

[ Sharkface sticks close, watching as Drake works. He marks the sequence, the way that Drake mixes everything. How it's stirred, how the various pieces react to the heat. He nods, stepping forward. ]

Feel it?

Yeah. You know what the raw chicken feels like... [ he passes the spatula ] This is just barely seared, so it's undercooked. Feel how it's a little firmer and then squishes? That's how you know it's still raw inside.

[ He holds up a hand to show a trick he learned on tv that actually works. He touches the tip of his index finger to his thumb, then pokes the meaty bit just beneath. ]

Raw. [ middle finger to thumb ] Rare, or undercooked for chicken. [ ring finger to thumb ] Cooked through. [ pinky to thumb ] Overcooked.

[ Oh. Sharkface huffs a little, smiling. ]

I see it. That’s clever.

Yeah. I have no idea who came up with it first, but it works. If you're poking something and you're not sure, just check your hand.

I’ll remember that.

[ He smiles a little. ]

You’re good at this. Cooking. But teaching, too.

Thanks. I've never actually done it before.

[ While Sharkface keeps the stir fry moving, he grabs the noodles and checks if the water's boiling... it is, so he tosses them in and then goes to add the sauce to the chicken and veggies so it can thicken up. ]

Want me to take back over?

Yeah.

[ The sauce part sounded a bit complicated. But he likes this, the energy of the moment. How quiet it is.

It’s nice. ]

[ Drake takes the spatula back, stirring. ]

So that starch I added is going to thicken it up as it cooks. You want to keep an eye on it... it'll get glossy instead of cloudy like it is right now, and it'll stick to the food. That's what we're looking for.

[ Glossy. Right. Sharkface nods slowly. ]

How sticky?

Not sweet-sticky, it'll just start to coat things instead of running back off into the bottom of the pan. I'll show you.

[ He scoots over a little so Sharkface can get as close as he needs to see... he finds he's enjoying this on a teaching level as much as he likes the moment. Peaceful and domestic and perfect for what it is. ]

[ Sharkface steps in closer, watching curiously. It's like chemistry. Barrows handled that on the squad, too. Explosives, whenever they had to deal with chemicals, that was all his brother's deal. That, and the cooking. Maybe that's why Barrows got so good at it. The overlap. ]

It's a lot to remember.

[ Bad decisions have been made. Ephemera manages to make it back home more or less upright, but it's a close thing. At least he hasn't been shot. But the damage is starting to stack in a way that's begun to show.

There's a lot of blood, is the thing. He's tied off his arm and snapped his nose back into place, but the rest -

He needs a shower. He might have a concussion. Fun.

He staggers through the door, manages to keep his feet. ]

Drake?

[ He sounds nothing but tired. He's got his prosthetic eye tucked away into his pocket, the socket red and raw where Felix punched it straight out of his skull. There's blood in his hair, dried in streaks down his face. ]

If you're here, don't freak out.

[ Drake's on the couch, just around the corner. He hears the door and his name and perks up, but the sound of Ephemera's voice and his somewhat concerning words have him up and heading to meet the other man. ]

I'm here, what's-- shit.

[ Ephemera is covered in blood, missing his fake eye, and swaying. Drake's at his side in a flash and slipping under the other man's uninjured arm to steady him, the worry obvious in his expression. Still, his voice is calm and gentle, his touches careful. Nothing to worry about, it's just him. ]

Hold on to me.

[ And he starts guiding Ephemera to the bathroom, where they're going to check him over thoroughly because... well. He looks like hell. ]

Hey...

[ Yeah, he's probably concussed. Fun. He leans against Drake without protest, though, doing his best not to drag his feet as they head to the bathroom.

Also: ow. He's used to ignoring things and it's almost novel to be beaten to shit enough that he actually feels it. ]

Nobody's dead.

[ Just to get that out there. ]

Good, but you're my priority.

[ Which is to say, he's very glad Ephemera isn't dead -- but he is beat to hell. He gets the other man to the bathroom and eases him down on the closed toilet, then tilts his face up into the light to check his good eye. ]

Follow my finger. [ The movement is sluggish, and his pupil's blown. ] Well you've got a concussion.

[ It looks like his nose has been broken and snapped back into place, too, and his forehead is still bleeding sluggishly. Drake hums worriedly but before reaching for a washcloth to clean the other man up he's checking that arm too, ripping Ephemera's shirt beneath where his arm is tied off to look at the wound.

It's not great, but maybe not terrible either? He's going to have to see how the bleeding starts back up to know if he has to drag Ephemera to the hospital or can handle it himself. Exhaling, he does reach for a clean washcloth and drags the souped up first aid kit out from under the sink, wetting the cloth with antiseptic and starting to wipe Ephemera's face gently. ]

Who did this to you?

[ Ephemera goes where Drake leads, drifting through the moment. He feels more than slightly like he's been drugged, or gone half-asleep. His fake eye is still tucked away in his pocket and he remembers how it felt when Felix pressed it back into his hand. Strange, almost solemn. None of this went how he expected. But there's blood on the ground, nonetheless. Another scar for the collection. ]

Cool...

[ He blinks, drifting again. Reminding himself to sit up straighter and not make it harder for Drake. ]

Oh. Me an' Felix went at it.

......that absolute fucker.

[ Despite practically growling his words, Drake's hands stay gentle and steady. He should have known, though. This doesn't look like Carolina's handiwork, and Ephemera wouldn't seem so calm if it was. Probably. He's a little worried about that, too, actually, but will deal with the injuries first.

He finishes cleaning Ephemera's face and suture-strips the gash on his forehead so it stops bleeding -- he suspects he'll have to do real stitches for the arm, which is next up. ]

He start it?

Nah.

[ Ephemera feels himself drifting. The concussion. Definitely. But that's not all of it, he thinks. It's this moment, this place. It does things to people. He remembers the weight of Felix's gun in his hand, how easy it would have been to pull the trigger. And how he hadn't.

He twitches. ]

Maybe. Can't remember. I stabbed him.

[ Got him good. But didn't kill him. ]

But he's not dead, huh? And you're not.

[ That must have been a choice Ephemera made, which is very promising. But also confusing on Felix's end. Did they just want a fight?

He takes Ephemera's hand in his on the bad arm, wanting to make sure he's not got any nerve damage before he unties the tourniquet to see what he's dealing with. ]

Tell me what happened. And squeeze my hand.

[ Yeah. Nobody's fucking dead. And now everything's complicated. Ephemera breathes out slow and squeezes Drake's hand. The wound bleeds sluggishly. It went deep. Even now, he feels distant from himself. Like it's happening to someone else. ]

Oh. He put his gun in my hand and told me to pull the trigger.

[ Okay, it's deep but probably didn't hit anything important? Drake doesn't think, anyway. He reaches back into the first aid kit for sutures and a needle, and asks his next question softly. ]

Why didn't you?

I don't know.

[ He should have, is the thing. Every scrap of training he's ever had said to pull the trigger. Fuck the risk, fuck the resurrection game, just fucking get it over with. Put him down, end the threat. And yet.

And fucking yet. ]

It didn't feel right.

It's better that you didn't, I think. I might kill him myself, though, this is deep.

[ Drake props Ephemera's arm up on the edge of the sink gently and starts stitching, something he sadly has a lot of practice at. A few months ago he'd hoped he'd never have to do this for Ephemera again, but here they are.

He doesn't want to think about it too hard. ]

[ Ephemera just shakes his head and leans back, his good eye half-lidded as he watches Drake. He's tired, he realizes. All he wants to do is sleep.

Bad idea, with a concussion. ]

I can't feel it.

[ Or at least not much of it. The adrenaline and the nerve damage have teamed up to kill the sensation. ]

Sorry I freaked you out.

It's okay. Don't worry about me, just... as long as you come home. Everything else we can deal with, right?

[ He keeps stitching, but notices Ephemera looks like he's about to nod off. Not good. ]

Hey, stay with me.

Uh huh.

[ He twitches, shaking himself. Sleeping's bad when you've got a concussion. When he's centered, he knows that. But it's hard to focus right now, to remember what he needs to do. Everything feels more than a little unreal. Like waking up from a dream. ]

I'll live.

[ Probably. It just won't be pretty. ]

[ Drake ties off another stitch, knowing he has to move fast if he's going to be able to keep Ephemera awake. ]

Just don't fall asleep. We've gotta get some sugar and fluids into you after this.

[ Another stitch, and an impulsive comment: ]

And you'll be breathing. Living's different.

[ Oh. Ephemera blinks slowly. His thoughts are like molasses. Everything feels heavy, coming a beat too slow to fully grasp. He thinks he ought to be in more pain than he is. Everything's dulled. That might be a problem. The only thing that feels real about the moment is the sound of Drake's voice. ]

Can you talk to me? It's hard to focus.

[ He sways a little. Corrects. ]

I'm trying, Drake.

...I know. Sorry.

[ He leans in and presses a kiss to Ephemera's forehead, then goes back to stitching. He's about halfway done, then they really need to clean him up and check him over more thoroughly and get some sugar into him. ]

What should we talk about-- oh hey, I never asked. Was there anything left in your room when we got back from camp? I got something weird.

[ You're fine. Just breathe, and focus. And don't pass out. Easy. Ephemera breathes out, counting on the exhale, and puts his hand on Drake's shoulder. A loose hold, just something to do. A way to center himself in the moment. ]

Yeah. Got some chocolate. Real fancy shit. Was gonna ask if you wanted some. WHat'd you get?

Hell yeah, I want some.

[ Another stitch, and Ephemera can feel the muscles shifting under his touch as Drake moves. Something else to focus on, something tactile. ]

It's something else I had with me when I left Hadriel -- my mother's photo album. Makes me wonder if they've got more of my shit hidden somewhere here.

[ Ephemera focuses on his breathing, on remaining steady. Stuck in the moment. This is happening, he needs to stay here. ]

Maybe.

[ He wonders if his armor is out there. ]

Can I see it, sometime? I'd - like that. Seeing your family.

Yeah, of course. Once we get you cleaned up, okay?

[ Last couple of stitches, almost done with that part. ]

This is a sign of just how much I trust you, by the way. There's some terrible hair going on in that book.

[ And done. He sets down the needle and reaches for the hem of Ephemera's shirt... he knows the other man doesn't like being undressed, but it's kind of necessary here. ]

Just me. Okay?

[ That gets a faint huff. ]

Now that I have to see.

[ It's a little lighter, something to break the tension. At least for a moment. Ephemera stills, watching Drake for a moment. Felix kissed me, he almost says. First time was - another way of throwing a blow, he thinks. Second time wasn't. But how is he supposed to put that into words?

He exhales. ]

Okay.

[ He moves gingerly, stripping his shirt off. Ow. ]

There were some bad trends in the 90s.

[ Drake helps him off with it, carefully as he can. The shredded, bloody shirt winds up in the bathroom trash can and then Drake's grabbing another washcloth, wetting this one with just water and turning back to Ephemera to clean him up. He wipes the other man's face off gently, then kneels in front of him and keeps going, the cloth rapidly soaking up red. ]

What about you? Any aesthetic mistakes in your past?

Oh, plenty.

[ He drags a hand down his face and regrets it almost instantly. Ow. He's going to be a mess of bruises tomorrow. A real goddamn mess. And now he's dragged Drake right into the middle of this one, too. ]

Got a couple drunken pictures out there in the ether somewhere. Helljumper parties get wild.

Watch your nose.

[ There's not much Drake can do about it but tape it, and it's going to hurt like hell for awhile. He runs the cloth down Ephemera's chest, wiping away blood and prodding fresh bruises gently to see if anything's broken. ]

I'd pay to see those. Wild how?

[ He drops his hand with a grunt. He shoved his nose back into place, more or less. It's just going to suck for a while. ]

Oh, everybody hooks up with everybody and gets real naked.

[ It's said blandly. He may or may not be kidding. ]

[ Drake hums, grinning softly. ]

I actually can't tell if you're shitting me or not. That's new for us.

[ Ephemera cracks a faint smile. ]

A little. We weren't having orgies or anything. People did hook up a lot, though. Mostly we just got drunk and punched each other. Ate a lot of food. Good times.

[ Drake rises from the floor, tossing the bloody washcloth into the sink, and offers Ephemera a hand up. ]

Doesn't sound so different from my last crowd, honestly.

[ He takes Drake's hand and hauls himself up with a sigh. Ow. ]

It was a trip. Not really my crowd anymore.

[ For multiple reasons. ]

Easy.

[ Drake slips under Ephemera's good arm, wrapping an arm around his waist and leading him to the couch -- not either of their rooms, he has to stay awake -- to set him down gently. ]

I'm gonna get you some ice and something to eat. State your preferences now or choke down what I bring you.

[ Drake's strong and solid, and he doesn't waver at all. Just gets it done. Ephemera reaches out to touch his arm briefly, meeting his eyes. He nods. ]

Something hot. I'll eat anything, you know me.

Yeah, I know you.

[ He wavers there for a moment, then pulls back reluctantly to cross to the kitchen. In the interest of time he rummages through the fridge for something left over that might be appealing, and while that's heating up he fills a bag with ice... then pours Ephemera some juice and pulls a pack of cookies out of the cupboard. It all gets brought over when the microwave beeps. ]

You finish it all and I'll show you the embarrassing photos.

[ He passes the plate over and sits down close, wrapping the baggie of ice in a dish cloth. ]

[ Yay, food. He'll probably manage to keep it down. Probably, Ephemera thinks, and breathes out slow as he takes the plate. Taps his nails along the rim to center himself, stay in the moment. Food's good. He needs the calories right now or he's going to crash hard and he probably won't get back up again for a good long while if he does. ]

I'm gonna hold you to that one.

[ He gives Drake a faint smile. ]

Just go slow, I don't want you feeling sick on top of everything else.

[ He grips the makeshift ice pack and drapes that arm on the back of the couch to hold it to Ephemera's head for him. ]

[ Ephemera nods slowly, then leans into the ice pack. Ow. But it helps, or it will. He knows how this goes. Hardly the first time he's gotten the shit kicked out of him. ]

Thanks. I mean it.

[ For that he gets another kiss to the side of his head. ]

You're welcome. And we'll see if you're still thanking me when I wake you up every hour tonight to make sure you're not in a coma.

Sexy.

[ Not really. But at least he can smile and - hopefully - lighten the mood a bit. It's like being back in the war, with his family at his side. How they'd patch each other up in the aftermath. Try and stay sane, stay human.

He snags one of the cookies, though. Yay, sugar. ]

You want in on this?

[ Drake chuckles softly, trying to joke and keep lightening the mood. ]

Hey, if you want them to be sexy wake up calls, just let me know.

[ He considers the cookies, then takes just one -- there are enough left in the package for Ephemera. ]

You've gotta drink up, too.

See, this is why everyone likes you. Charming fucker.

[ Even under the circumstances. Even when there's blood on the ground. Ephemera watches Drake for a moment, wondering - not for the first time - how the fuck they ended up finding each other. Why it works so well. And then he wonders what'll happen when Drake steps back and realizes what a fucking mess Ephemera keeps making of this shit.

He exhales. He drinks his damn juice. ]

I know. Not my first rodeo.

Not everyone likes me. And you think I'd make that offer for just anyone? Nope.

[ He shifts the icepack a little to accommodate for how it's melting in the bag, and nuzzles closer to speak into Ephemera's ear. ]

Feel special.

[ He huffs a little. This guy. Goddamn, he thinks. There's always been something about Drake. He's charming and calm and it works. Maybe it shouldn't but this makes sense to him and so little does around here. ]

Shit. Guess I have to when you say it like that.

[ Drake just smiles, staying close until Ephemera's finished his juice. And that means he has a promise to keep. ]

Time to hold up my end of the bargain, huh? Here, take the ice pack.

Thanks.

[ He means it. Despite all the damage, all the goddamn blood that Drake just finished scrubbing off him, this feels -

Right. Or at the very least, it's calm. Maybe he needs that, in the aftermath. He shifts to take the ice pack. ]

I'll make it up to you, okay? Somehow.

[ Drake stands to fetch the book and a fresh shirt for Ephemera, but the sentiment that the other man needs to make this up to him has him glancing over his shoulder.

He shakes his head. ]

Everything will balance out. I don't want you feeling like you owe me anything, or that I'd hold this over you.

Just a minute.

[ He disappears into his room, and there's the sound of a drawer opening. Things shuffling inside. When he comes back he's got a red photo album and a long sleeved black shirt. They're passed over one at a time. ]

You need help getting that on?

[ Oh. Ephemera stares after Drake for a moment, wondering what he's supposed to say. He keeps fucking things up, and Drake is always - there. A steadying presence. And there's a part of him that wants to be steady too, to make it symmetric, but he doesn't quite know how.

But maybe he could learn. Maybe he could do that one day.

His expression softens when Drake returns. ]

Think I've got it. Thanks. Now I definitely have to share my fancy chocolate with you.

[ Drake really does believe that it'll balance out -- and that if someone steady was what he needed, Ephemera could be that for him. But right now... he doesn't know what it is he needs, besides the other man alive and with him. It's an easy requirement, really.

He smiles again, sitting back down and resting one hand over the cover of the book while Ephemera puts the shirt on. ]

I'd like that. Since we're sharing and all... do you guys have rattails in the future? That's a style I hope never came back around. Anyway.

[ He flips the book open to reveal that they're starting things with baby pictures. In many of them a woman with fluffy red hair holds a baby that's surely too small to have turned into Drake, her smile bright and proud. ]

Oh, shit. That your mom?

[ He leans in closer, tugging his shirt down. It's different, seeing baby pictures. Wondering what that must've been like, to grow up with blood family around. Sometimes Ephemera thinks he remembers a woman with dark hair, a woman in uniform, but he's not certain if that's a real memory or something he made up, the kind of story orphans tell themselves to fill in the gasp. Either way, this is real. This was Drake's life. ]

You were tiny, man.

It is. And everybody starts out tiny, but yeah. I came a little early.

[ He turns the pages; the baby pictures are pretty standard. Silly outfits, happy expressions, bathtime, first unsteady steps... the beginning of a life, documented at the start of a thick album. Drake knows Ephemera doesn't have anything like this. That he's lucky to have had his ma, who thought he could do no wrong.

If he's observant, Ephemera might notice a handful of the pictures are snipped, someone taken out of them. It's just Drake, and his mother.

The grade school pics are where the embarrassing hair begins and oh lord, it doesn't stop. ]

...I'd say I was too young to know what I looked like, but high school was just as bad.

I didn't know that.

[ But now he does. Ephemera shifts closer, reminding himself to eat while Drake turns the pages. The idea of family photo albums is still a novelty, something that other people did that Ephemera only knows by reputation. But this is Drake's life, piece by piece, picture by picture, and Ephemera gets to share that.

He huffs a little, nudging Drake with his arm. ]

Nah, I've seen worse. Trust me. You look happy.

[ He doesn't comment on the snipped pictures. He knows part of that story. It doesn't need to be dredged back up, not unless Drake wants to tell him more. ]

( context )

rooftop
go now or he bleeds out

[ It doesn't take a genius to figure out who this is -- and so Drake texts back even as he's running out the door. ]

if you started this one i'll kill you myself

[ Ephemera comes back covered in oil and bite marks, and blood streaked all the way down his throat. Later, he'll feel the bruises settle in. No broken bones, a few bruised ribs. One of the milder beatings he's taken over the years, aside from a possible concussion. He'll deal with it later.

He shuts the door without a word and just heads for the shower. He hates how the oil feels. How it's soaked into his hair, gotten behind his prosthetic. The smell of it.

Which is, of course, when he rounds the corner and nearly runs smack into Drake. Shit.

Ephemera stares at him for a good three seconds. ]

I need to shower.

[ You sure do, Drake thinks but doesn't say, just blinking at Ephemera. It takes a lot to surprise him but the oil manages it, the other man's skin glistening. Bite marks and blood marring it.

This can't be anything he entered into consensually, right? Which means Drake is instantly worried for Ephemera's mental state.

First things first. Let him shower. Drake steps aside quietly, letting Ephemera slip past him to the bathroom. He had been coming to see what the other man wanted for dinner when he heard the door, but he can just make something while Ephemera's in the shower. ]

[ The first thing he does is take his eye out and flush the socket. The oil's gotten in, started irritating the shit out of the flesh there, and fuck that's a mess. He hates it, Ephemera thinks bleakly, and only just refrains from punching his reflection in the mirror. This is what, the fourth time he and Felix didn't kill each other?

It'd be much simpler if they had. They certainly drew enough blood to try.

He showers. He uses all the scented crap he can get his hands on and his scrubs his skin raw until the oil's gone completely.

Breathe. You're fine.

He doesn't feel fine. But he doesn't hide in the bathroom, either. He heads back to his own room and his own clothes and he gets dressed. Long sleeves, loose pants. His painting clothes. After, he slaps a bandage over his eye and that's -

Better, he thinks. And then he heads out into the kitchen because there's really no dodging this when he and Drake live together now. He leans against the wall and exhales slowly. ]

Nothing's broken. Might have a concussion, but I didn't break anything.

That's good news. But not the part of it I had questions about.

[ He stirs the pot over the stove once more and puts the spoon down in its rest, turning to look at Ephemera. Leaning back against the counter, gripping it to hide his tension there. Ephemera might know him well enough at this point to catch that trick, though. ]

It looked like something you wouldn't have done willingly happened again.

[ Yeah. That tension is clear. As is the cause. Ephemera drags a hand through his hair. He feels nothing but tired. ]

It's a theme around here.

[ His voice is soft. Bitter humor. ]

Pieces of it were a choice. Think that helped.

[ He thinks that's the only reason he hasn't completely lost his mind. ]

[ He's trying to hide it, his worry and anger, but the hints are there. The white knuckled grip on the counter, the way his eyes linger at the bite marks still visible above Ephemera's collar. He breathes out, nodding. ]

Do you want to talk about the rest? Or just have dinner?

[ It eats at him that again, he wasn't there. They can't be chained to each other, but the things that happen here make him want to be. ]

[ Ephemera watches Drake for a long moment. Before, he knows he would have turtled up and done his best to put the whole thing out of his mind. Put himself in front of a mural and a bottle of tequila and kept on trucking until he either passed out or something finally made sense in his mind. Strangely, this time he's calmer. Twitchy still, but -

Less.

He steps forward and just hugs Drake, pressing their foreheads together. ]

[ Drake blinks in surprise when Ephemera steps in for a hug, but he's letting go of the counter so his own arms can come up as soon as the other man makes contact. The question is, does Ephemera want the comfort or is he just trying to reassure Drake that he's okay? Maybe it's both? Either way, it feels important. And it's not like Drake's going to pass it up. He leans into the contact, eyes closing and shoulders uncoiling just slightly. ]

You don't have to tell me, either. Sorry if I made it sound like that.

[ Breathe out, Ephemera thinks. And stay in the moment. He closes his good eye and just nuzzles against Drake. Taking comfort from the closeness. ]

It's hard to explain.

[ His voice is soft. ]

I don't know if I've got the words.

[ That makes it sound like it's something noteworthy, though... Drake nuzzles back, his voice softer now. ]

Try if you want. Worst case, I don't get it. But I can tell this place forced it again, and whoever it was, they're a biter.

[ Ephemera snorts at that. ]

I got him back.

[ Bit the shit out of him. It was a whole thing. ]

Tried to rip his throat out. Didn't have any weapons on me. Don't know if they would've stopped it then. Don't think they wanted anyone to die, not really. But they wouldn't let us leave.

[ Well that sounds brutal. There's a certain amount of dissonance between knowing Ephemera's absolutely capable of that kind of violence and the way the other man is holding him right now, that Drake just takes in stride as part of knowing him. It is what it is.

He hums thoughtfully. ]

Seems like their favorite trick. But you're better with it this time.

[ What's up with that? ]

Am I?

[ He doesn't feel better. He feels - hollowed out, in the aftermath. Confused. He exhales and presses close to Drake, listening to his breathing. Trying to slow his own to match it. ]

I don't know. One moment we were going to kill each other, and then -

[ And then. Ephemera breathes out slow. ]

There was this moment he reminded me of Hunter. When Hunter was losing his mind. And I just - I was calm then. I had to be calm.

...I know what that feels like. When you feel like you're gonna lose it, but the other person already is and they need help. So you hold it together when maybe if it was just you, you couldn't manage it.

[ Drake's definitely someone who can stay calm for other people as easy as breathing, but calm for himself took time.

He reaches up and brushes Ephemera's hair back, nuzzling his cheek gently. ]

It takes strength, you know?

[ Oh. Ephemera peers at Drake for a moment, leaning into the touch. ]

Like you do for me?

I get the feeling the motivation might've been a little different.

[ Drake grins, pressing a kiss to Ephemera's cheek. It's different with Ephemera -- it's always been easier for some reason. Natural. They just fit, somehow, and he doesn't have to think about it.

He suspects with Ephemera and whoever the biter is, it was more about survival than love. Given that he's mentioned tearing the guy's throat out. ]

But yeah. I'm glad I can be that for you.

[ Probably. Ephemera can’t say he likes Felix, but Felix makes sense to him in a way not a lot of people do. What was that thing Crais said about soldiers? Predictable patterns of damage, or something along those lines.

Yeah. They’ve got those.

He breathes out, pressing close to Drake. ]

Thank you. For just - for being you.

Thank you for telling me.

[ Another kiss, another stroke to Ephemera's hair, and Drake relaxes a little more against him. It's making sense to him now, why Ephemera seems steadier this time. It's not that the situation was better. It's that he's grown. ]

It was different than when you were calm for Hunter, right? This guy wasn't family, wasn't someone you wanted to protect... but you knew what to do to help and you did it. And you both made it through.

[ That's big, Drake thinks. He doesn't want to freak Ephemera out by blowing it up, but he does want to acknowledge it. ]

Do you realize how far you've come just since you got here?

[ Sometimes Ephemera wonders if there was any saving Hunter. CT was manic, out of control. Barely lucid even in his quiet moments. His brother lost too much too violently. Blamed himself even though it was just —

It was just what happened. And maybe if Ephemera had been stronger, hadn’t been so badly injured he couldn’t even walk, maybe then —

But he couldn’t. He didn’t. And so his brother died sick, and surrounded by strangers. ]

Sometimes.

[ It comes out soft. ]

I feel like more of a person now.

[ Drake has a pretty good idea what Ephemera's thinking about, but those thoughts are natural. They just have to happen, and they deserve to be acknowledged. He does hold Ephemera a little tighter, though. Hugs him close and ducks his head.

The admission is also big. The fact that he even could feel like more of a person, and that he's acknowledging it. ]

I'm really proud of you.

[ Ephemera closes his good eye and breathes out slow. He’s tired, more then anything. But he doesn’t feel insane. He doesn’t feel brittle, like he’s going to lose the thread. Like something in him is going to break if he doesn’t tap it down hard.

It happened. And then it ended. ]

It helps. Having this. Having you.

[ Drake can't really find the words to express how much that means to him. This isn't the life he thought they'd have, but he isn't alone in it. They're still together in the important ways and the complexities of it -- missing Ephemera truly being his partner, the awkwardness of one-sided quota sex -- aren't impacting him as much as they did at first. ]

You'll always have me.

[ It's a softly spoken promise, one that he maybe shouldn't make because they have no control over who comes and goes... but it rings true anyway. They've found each other twice now, Drake has to believe that no matter what they'll wind up together. He lets out a shuddering breath and composes himself, pulling back to look Ephemera in the eye. ]

Is it anyone I should worry about?

[ Sometimes they share a bed and just lie down next to each other. Ephemera doesn't sleep well even on the good days, but having Drake at his side - helps. He can settle because he knows, deep down, that someone has his back. That he's safe. And he hopes he can offer that to Drake in turn. Something meaningful, even if he can't be steady.

He reaches up to cup Drake's face with his hand. Gentle. ]

I know.

[ It's said simply. They've always known how to move around each other. ]

Ah. Maybe?

[ Ephemera winces a little. ]

It's Felix.

[ The gentle touch to his face has Drake closing his eyes and leaning into it, savoring those words. For a moment, he can just be content.

Of course reality crashes back. He opens his eyes again and breathes out, then turns his face into Ephemera's hand and kisses his palm. ]

I'm going to have a talk with that fucker.

[ Yeah. That's a thing. Ephemera winces, then leans forward and just bumps their foreheads together. A small gesture. But a meaningful one. ]

Wasn't his fault. It was just - a thing that happened. Think I tore him up more anyway.

[ There was a lot of blood. They hit each other in the head more than a few times before things turned. ]

[ Drake leans into the contact, trying not to think about what that fight might have looked like. What Ephemera looked like in a pool of his own blood on that roof. Felix had messaged him, sure, but Drake really would have preferred there be less stabbing in the first place. ]

And the last time you two fought, you wound up in the hospital. He's dangerous and I just--

[ He's interrupted by the kitchen timer beeping, reminding him that he was making dinner. Right. ]

--I just want you safe.

[ He tilts his head and kisses Ephemera chastely on the lips, then pulls back to turn off the timer and stove and bring the pasta over to the sink to drain. ]

I know. I -

[ The timer dings before Ephemera can finish the thought. He exhales and drags a hand through his hair. It's starting to get long on him. He'll have to cut it soon. ]

I know. But just - not this time, okay? It wasn't on him.

[ Drake is quiet for a moment, then nods. ]

Okay. Not this time, then.

[ But he's still going to have a talk with Felix because... Ephemera makes it sound like there's definitely going to be a next time and he doesn't quite get the guy yet. And he's known criminals like him. The charismatic type, the one who's just funny and smart enough to think they're better than everybody else, but doesn't really make connections, just uses people for their own benefit.

Ephemera won't fall for his shit, he's the one who first warned Drake about Felix after all. But Drake wants to really get Felix, to know what makes him tick, to know what he's up to here. And with Ephemera.

So the talk's going to happen. Just not about this.

He turns back to Ephemera, tipping his head towards the cupboards. They don't need to talk about this anymore if Ephemera doesn't want to... Drake has something else to bring up over dinner. ]

Grab us plates?

[ The problem here — or one of them, anyway — is that Ephemera doesn’t know what he’s doing with Felix. Things swing from one moment to the next, the world tilts on its axis, and what would have been simple suddenly isn’t.

They haven’t killed each other. Despite opportunity and an abundance of vicious instinct, despite a lifetime building up all their brutal reflexes, they haven’t killed each other. And there were moments that edged onto —

Careful. Or something like merciful.

Ephemera exhales slowly. He doesn’t know what to do with any of that. He really doesn’t. But at least he can handle getting plates. ]

Yeah. I can do that.

[ All the more reason for them to talk about it, honestly, but Drake isn't pushing at the moment. Not when things are so raw, when he just wants Ephemera to feel safe with him. He takes those plates and serves them dinner, once again skipping the table to sit right next to Ephemera at the counter. ]

You want a drink?

[ Ephemera shifts a little closer to Drake. Taking comfort from the closeness. Someone watching his back, covering his blind spot. ]

Fuck, yeah. I could use a drink.

So could I.

[ He leans in and kisses Ephemera's cheek before moving past him to grab glasses and a bottle of whiskey, returning to his seat to pour for them both. ]

What do we toast to?

[ Whiskey sounds damn good right now. Ephemera rubs his thumb along the rim of the glass, then lifts it. ]

To solid ground.

[ To being alive on solid ground. ]

And -

[ He hesitates, struggling for the words. ]

For whatever it was that pushed us together.

[ Drake blinks, then smiles softly at Ephemera and clinks their glasses, taking a sip. ]

You'd better watch out, being that smooth.

[ Ephemera huffs a little. ]

Oh, yeah? You think I'm smooth?

I'm biased, but you're a charmer. Only one problem with it.

[ Ephemera smiles again, leaning back. ]

Yeah?

[ To be fair, this wouldn't be as much of a problem if Duplicity would just lay off and give Ephemera some breathing room but. ]

Yeah. It really makes me want to kiss you.

[ Oh. For a moment, Ephemera just watches Drake. He feels better than he did earlier. Settled, in small ways. But the thing easier is still fresh on his mind, the way the sand felt as it stuck under his nails and the smell of the oil. How there was a crowd watching.

He twitches. Tries to smile. Because there's a part of him that wants to, is the thing. To make this something good. He thinks it could be good, with Drake. Something they chose versus a matter of survival and compromise. ]

You -

[ He hesitates. ]

If you go slow, then. You can.

[ Drake watches Ephemera closely, sees him trying to smile, knows that there's something here. And that they've never... really made that choice, it's always been for quota, or to loosen the collar. But he knows there's a dozen traumas spinning around in Ephemera's head right now and it's unfair to ask. He sets his glass down and reaches for Ephemera's hand instead. ]

I don't want it to be something you... endure, for my sake. And I know this isn't a great time. But when you want it? I'm here, okay?

[ Ephemera breathes out and takes Drake's hand. Just holds it, rubbing his thumb along the span of Drake's knuckles. Gentle, always gentle. He needs that, he thinks. Something that isn't about violence or - surviving. ]

Okay.

[ He watches Drake for a moment. ]

I do. Want you. I think about it a lot.

[ It's not shocking, but it's still reassuring to hear. That this isn't one sided. Drake breathes out, smiling, and slips back off his stool to get a little closer. Still holding Ephemera's hand. ]

Just a kiss? For now.

[ Ephemera peers up at him, swallowing hard. The memory of earlier is still there. Raw. But this -

It's quieter. And maybe he needs that, too.

He squeezes Drake's hand. ]

Yeah. Please.

[ Moving slow, telegraphing his actions, Drake reaches out with his free hand to cup Ephemera's cheek. He presses their foreheads together first, eyes closed but not kissing him yet, just letting him acclimate to the closeness. To the different flavor of intimacy behind it this time. ]

Stay with me.

[ In this moment. Don't think of anyone or anything else. Just this.

He brushes their noses together, tilting his head... and finally presses their lips together into a soft kiss. For as gentle as it is physically, though, it's strangely intense. He doesn't deepen it just yet, but waits for any sign from Ephemera that it's okay -- or not okay. ]

[ It's gentle, is the thing. Slow. Ephemera's breath hitches at the touch but he doesn't jerk away, doesn't flinch. He closes his good eye and just breathes, still holding onto Drake's hand. Feeling his heart rate jump.

It's different from before, in the arena. Not quite so calm. But there's quiet, and that -

That matters.

Ephemera makes a small sound as Drake kisses him. It's gentle. He knew it would be. And for a moment he just lingers there, his good eye still closed. Getting used to it. Remembering what it felt like.

Then he shifts a little and presses into it. Not hard. But he kisses Drake back, shifting one hand to cup the back of Drake's neck. Shield the place where the implant would be, if they'd grown up in the same world. ]

[ Drake isn't certain this was right until Ephemera shifts up and closer to him, kissing back... and then it's more than right, it's perfect. Down to the protective hand on his neck. He shudders at the touch and slips his own hand back into Ephemera's hair. Tilts his head a little more, parting his lips to flick his tongue politely over Ephemera's bottom lip.

One kiss, but he didn't say he'd make it quick. ]

[ Oh. Ephemera shivers again, tupping his head back as Drake runs his hand through Ephemera's hair. The shivery feeling twists through him. Warm, and welcome.

Fuck, he thinks, his good eye still closed. Fuck, I love you.

He swallows hard, then presses forward again. Wanting. ]

[ It's not their first kiss, not even the first time Ephemera's kissed him back, but it feels like a first kiss. Drake's breath hitches as Ephemera presses in again and he gives in to temptation to step closer, between the other man's legs where he's still sitting.

He doesn't pull Ephemera's hair but he holds on there, and to his hand, as the kiss deepens. They're in sync enough it almost feels like it happens on its own... Ephemera's lips part and Drake's tongue slips in, tangling with his. Slow and gentle, but not restrained. This is just what feels right -- what they both need right now. ]

[ It feels good like this, Drake pressed close and still standing, but not looming. Just close. Ephemera likes the way Drake's breathing changes, how he can feel it when they're this close. Likes how Drake kisses him, how he holds onto Ephemera's hair, and how easy it feels to just be. Existing on the same wavelength.

Ephemera shivers again. It's been a long time since it's been this slow. He thinks he could kiss Drake like this for a long time. Just hold him, be held. He presses forward again, licking against Drake's mouth to see if Drake will let him. If that feels right, too. He thinks it will. ]

[ Oh, Drake lets him. He parts his lips and lets out a small, low hum of pleasure at the first stroke of Ephemera's tongue, and lets the balance of who's kissing who shift naturally. Lets him explore a little. It is the first time that Ephemera's taken initiative like this, and Drake's not about to do anything to dissuade him. ]

[ He takes it slow. Feeling it out, one hand still cupped protectively over the back of Drake's neck. A steadying touch. An important one. And Drake lets him. Hums and oh, fuck. He can feel it echo.

Ephemera shivers again. He kisses Drake until he needs to draw back just to breathe and then he presses their foreheads together. ]

Fuck.

[ It's been a long time since he's kissed anyone like that. ]

[ Drake's head is spinning a little by the time Ephemera pulls back, overwhelmed by the sensations and emotions alike. His breath comes quick and shallow as they rest against each other, foreheads pressed together, sharing each other's air. This kiss was different. This one meant something.

His hand drops from Ephemera's hair to cover his implant, other thumb stroking the back of his hand. ]

You okay?

[ It comes out in a whisper, low and breathless. One kiss, for now. But he's still coming down from it and checking in isn't the only thing he wants to say. ]

[ Ephemera opens his good eye, trying to catch his breath. Slow down his heart rate when he can feel it pounding in his throat. He squeezes Drake's hand in his.

Gentle. Always. ]

Yeah.

[ It comes out soft. ]

That was - good. It felt good.

[ Drake squeezes back, smiling. ]

I'm glad.

[ I love you, he thinks, his own pulse fluttering. And then he finally pulls away enough to sink back onto his stool. His jeans are tight now, but he ignores that and just studies Ephemera's face, the pleasure and surprise at it still in his expression. ]

We'll uh-- we'll just take it slow.

Slow. Yeah.

[ He watches Drake for a long moment. There's a part of him that wants to reach for him again. Kiss him harder. Maybe -

Fuck.

Ephemera shivers a little. He watches Drake closely. ]

...come here?

[ Drake blinks, but slides back off the stool immediately. It's only then that he realizes he's still holding Ephemera's hand. ]

What's up?

[ Are things not actually okay? ]

[ Ephemera huffs a little, lifting their joined hands. He kisses Drake's knuckles. One by one. ]

Just wanted to do that.

[ Wait what-- oh no that's cute. Drake bites his lip to keep from grinning but it doesn't work. ]

You needed me to come closer for that?

Yeah.

[ Ephemera grins at him. ]

That okay?

[ Ephemera what did he just say about being charming?

More than anything it's good to see him smile like that, though. ]

Yeah, that's okay.

[ He starts to lean back again, expression questioning. Anything else? ]

[ Ephemera hesitates for a moment. It was good. They could let it be simple.

Ah. Fuck it. He squeezes Drake’s hand again, then leans forward and kisses him. Still soft. Still halfway expecting something to change, to catch him, but it doesn’t. It just feels -

Nice. ]

[ It's a good thing Drake was half-anticipating something like that, or he might have been knocked off balance. Instead he just straightens back up with a muffled laugh, his free hand settling on Ephemera's waist to steady himself as they kiss again. Soft and sweet, just exploring.

It's not hard to keep it that way. What is difficult is not to smile into it, because Drake is completely delighted right now. By the kiss, sure, but more by the fact that Ephemera initiated it -- playfully, even. That they've taken this step, that not everything has to be so fraught all the time. There's trust between them and they want this, and Drake has no problem going slow.

He kisses Ephemera breathless again, and by the time the kiss breaks he's pressed even closer, back between Ephemera's legs with his arm looped around his waist. Still holding his hand. He could do this all night, he thinks, just kissing and holding and being held. With a pleased hum he nuzzles the other man's cheek, pressing a kiss there as well, loathe to pull away. ]

Still okay?

[ Ephemera huffs, smiling up at Drake. He missed this, he thinks. Being able to touch someone else like this, without the underlying thrum of violence of him losing his shit because somebody stepped in range. How it feels to have Drake holding him, an arm around Ephemera's waist and the easy way they kiss. Because it feels easy now. So little has in this place. ]

Yeah.

Yeah, I am.

[ Drake can't help the smile now, finally letting go of Ephemera's hand to wrap that arm around him too and pull him into a warm hug. ]

We should actually eat dinner. And I've got something else to ask you.

[ After that he's looking forward to Ephemera spending the night in his room, even if it's just the usual cuddling. It feels like they've broken through some barrier he didn't want to admit was there before. ]

[ Ephemera goes easily into it, resting his forehead against Drake's shoulder. Things are finally quiet now. Settled. ]

Probably should, before it gets cold.

[ He breathes out slow. ]

Yeah? Ask me what?

[ Another tiny kiss to the side of Ephemera's head and Drake pulls back to return to his stool... but before he gets on it he tugs it closer and scoots his plate over as well. Picks up his fork so he's not tempted to just keep cuddling. ]

You know those gifts we got when we came back from camp? That everybody got.

[ They're closer now. Ephemera breathes out slow. He likes that, he thinks. Proximity. The way he can shift and bump his arm against Drake's. ]

Yeah, I remember. I got to see all those pictures of you as a kid.

[ That was pretty cute, he remembers. ]

Yeah. I'm happy having it, but it got me thinking... Padme got a kitten.

[ A lot of people got pets, actually -- and Ephemera still needs to meet Padme -- and that combined with memories of his childhood? ]

How do you feel about dogs?

[ Oh. Of all the things Ephemera was expecting, that wasn't one. He sits up a little straighter, thinking. ]

I don't know.

[ It's said thoughtfully. ]

There were dogs around when I was a kid, but they chased us. Mean as shit. I'm not afraid of them or anything. You want to get one?

[ A cat might be a safer bet, but Drake's really more of a dog guy. And he thinks a puppy, that they train themselves, might be really great.

He leans in to brush their shoulders together as he spears another piece of chicken. ]

Kinda. Would you come with me to look at least? There must be a shelter around or something.

[ Ephemera eats slowly, thinking. Oddly, he's realized he doesn't shield his food around Drake. Doesn't hunch over his plate and prepare to stab anyone with his fork. He's not certain when that happened, only that it did. This trust they've got built up quick. Even now, he's not sure how to account for it. ]

Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that. You thinking a puppy or something? Or an older dog?

[ Drake thinks about that for a moment, and when he answers it's kind of a non-answer. He isn't picky, he just wants it to be the pet that's right for them. ]

I wanna say a puppy... at least young? But if there's an older dog who fits I wouldn't rule it out. I think we should go and see what feels right.

You've still gotta meet Padme, too. And her kitten's freakin' adorable.

I don't know anything about dogs. So, I'll go with it.

[ See what happens. Maybe they can get a bigger dog, a dog he can take running. People do that, right?

Ephemera nods slowly. ]

I do. I want to. What's she like?

We'll see what they've got. And Padme's... pretty great. Smart, beautiful, independent as hell. She's married and her husband disappeared from here, though, and ever since she's been having a hard time. I think it'd be nice to drag her away from work for a nice dinner or something.

Hey, I still got that fancy chocolate.

[ He smiles a little. ]

Why not, right?

[ Drake smiles back, nodding. ]

Why not? We just have to pick a night we're all free.

All right. Let's do it.

[ He smiles again. ]

I like kittens. Crais has one.

Yeah? I'll ask her to bring hers, then.

[ He'll message her after dinner, do the scheduling. ]

I think you'll really like her.

Bet I will. You like her.

[ Drake's got good judgement with people. So, it'll work out. ]

[ Drake laughs softly, but there's understanding in it. Ephemera trusts his judgment.

The rest of dinner passes quietly, until Drake's downing the last mouthful of his whiskey feeling pleasantly buzzed. He takes their plates and sets them in the sink to deal with later. ]

How are you feeling?

[ They eat and it's quiet for a while. Things settle. Ephemera drinks and he eats and he lets things breathe. Lets himself come down from the adrenaline rush of earlier and settle back into himself. There will be echos later - he knows, there always are - but right now things have quieted and that's -

That's good. That's enough, for right now.

He stands, stretching a little. Running a hand through his hair. ]

Better. Tired, but better.

[ Drake crosses back to Ephemera, reaching out to take over brushing the other man's hair back for him. It's getting a little long, getting in his good eye. ]

We'll both need haircuts soon.

[ He likes the feel of Ephemera's, though. What's left is thick and soft, and he loves running his fingers through it. ]

You want to go lie down?

[ It's a small gesture, but Ephemera finds himself hopelessly charmed by it. He breathes out, leaning into it a little. ]

Thinking about growing it out. Maybe.

[ Trying something different. He tips his head to the side, then nods. ]

Yeah. I'm beat.

[ Drake loves the way Ephemera leans into his touches, and so drags his nails lightly along the other man's scalp before twirling an overgrown lock between his fingers. ]

Yeah? I'd like it longer.

[ He gives a playful little tug before letting go and stepping back, leading the way to his room. It's gotten decently late -- still a little early for him to be able to sleep but he's pretty much always content to just cuddle. ]

Yeah?

[ That's nice, the way that Drake tugs his hair. Runs his fingers through it. That's nice. Easy. Not a lot is around here. Ephemera follows after Drake easily, rubbing a hand down his face. He can feel himself crashing. If he's lucky, he'll drop without dreaming. ]

I don't think I've ever had it long. Always used to buzz it off. 'cept in prison and then I wouldn't let anyone near me with scissors.

[ Drake gets in bed on his side, as usual, and holds an arm out for Ephemera. ]

That's kind of a shame. It's good hair.

[ His expression softens. ]

C'mere.

[ Ephemera's expression softens. And he goes easily, willingly, and curls up with Drake. ]

Thank you. For - being you.

[ Drake wraps both arms around him, snuggling down. ]

You keep thanking me for that you're gonna give me an ego.

[ Ephemera huffs a little, closing his good eye. He likes this, curling up with Drake. He thinks maybe this time he's tired enough that he'll sleep without nightmares.

Maybe. Wouldn't that be something? ]

I'm not worried.

[ ...okay Ephemera. You're going to have to stop being sweet because you're killing him here. ]

You should be. I bet I'd be insufferable. All self righteous and smug.

Nah. Not you.

[ He settles, putting his hand on Drake's arm. ]

I don't see you being smug.

I can be very smug. About... uh....

[ Damnit he can't even think of anything. ]

[ Ephemera huffs, squeezing Drake's arm. ]

Sure you can. Maybe about your cooking.

I wasn't fishing for compliments, but I'm glad you like it.

[ He slides his hand up to Ephemera's face, fingers curling around his chin to tilt it up to his. ]

I probably wouldn't bother if it was just for me, honestly.

[ Ephemera cracks his good eye, peering at Drake. ]

I like it when you teach me. So, maybe I'll be able to cook for you one day too.

I'd love that.

[ He bumps their noses together, smiling. ]

What else do you want to learn to make?

[ Ephemera huffs a little, closing his good eye again. Settling against Drake. ]

Don't laugh. But chocolate chip cookies. I miss that shit and they're expensive as hell around here.

Why would I laugh? You know that's one of the few things my Ma was actually good at making? I can teach you.

Yeah?

[ Ephemera smiles a little. ]

I'd like that.

Next grocery trip. We'll get the stuff.

[ He kisses Ephemera's forehead, snuggling down. He should let the other man sleep. ]

Get some rest, okay? I'll be right here.

Mhmph. Okay.

[ It comes out soft. Ephemera closes his good eye, pressing close. He breathes out slow. And settles. ]

[ Drake lies there, stroking his fingertips idly up and down Ephemera's back while he drifts to sleep. Or at least, until the other man goes heavy against him and his breathing smooth and even. Only then does he let his hand drop and whispers. ]

I love you.

[ He's asleep before long too. ]

where are you

Corner of Jones and 4th headed back to my place.
You need me somewhere?

nah
ill meet you there

Sure. See you there.

[ He's very curious, but he'll find out what Sam wants soon enough. Drake finishes up his run and heads back to his apartment, which is empty at the moment. Gets himself some water, splashes some on his face, and is wondering if he can squeeze a quick shower in before Sam gets here -- the other man didn't say where he was coming from, after all.... ]

( he's in the up, so it--takes roughly thirty minutes to get there, since he's walking it and not really in a rush. this isn't an apartment he feels comfortable just trying to shove his way inside of, so sam does stop at the door. raps his fingers against it before shoving his hand back down into his jeans' pocket. no jacket today, just a ratty tank that smells like an ashtray.

sam looks fine; no bruises, scratches, nothing broken. but that's also about normal for him, given how fast his body pulls itself together. )

[ Drake's just getting redressed from his shower when he hears Sam's knock -- he opens the door a moment later in jeans and a t-shirt, hair still damp and mussed, feet bare. And sure enough he's looking Sam over, but there's no visible injuries, no blood on his clothes from ones that have already healed.

Curiouser and curiouser. Drake swings the door open wider. ]

Hey. Come on in.

Yo.

( a lift of his shoulder, before he's moving into the apartment. immediately goes towards the kitchen even if he--stops just before entering it to tip his head back towards drake. offers him a little half-grin. )

Restock the fridge any time recently? I'm starving. ( did he come here just to snag all drake's food? no. but it's definitely a bonus he's not going to just let get away from him, thank you. )

[ Uhhh okay? Drake doesn't actually mind someone hungry coming by for a meal, but he's not sure that's all Sam wants. Like what if he hadn't been heading home? ]

Yeah, actually. I'll make you something if you want, but is that all you're here for?

Yeah. There something wrong with that?

( technically he's just here so he's somewhere and not lazing around in a fold up chair somewhere outside staring off into space, but he'll take the free food. sam hitches his hip up against the counter, then--jumps up onto it. makes himself comfortable. )

No, it's a good thing. I just thought you didn't trust me.

[ He comes into the kitchen and opens the fridge, considering its contents just as he's considering Sam. Something must be wrong for him to just drop by, right? Or it's some kind of test? ]

What're you in the mood for?

I don't trust anyone here.

( not wholly, anyway. everyone's after their own agenda, which is just how the world works. drake's a little more suspicious than others because he's. niceish. in a weird way. sam still thinks he's pulling this crap on purpose to get something out of him but he hasn't figured out what it is yet. so. )

A sandwich'd be nice.

You can, you know. I'm still waiting for you to come around on that front.

[ He quirks an eyebrow. ]

Just a sandwich?

[ It seems like an awfully simple request to come all the way here for, but Drake starts pulling ingredients out for a good one. If he's feeding you he's gonna feed you well, Sam. ]

Just a sandwich.

( he won't turn down a good sandwich though. or a giant sandwich. or everything else in drake's fridge, sam isn't picky. he is hungry though. so he just--sits on the counter and keeps watch of what drake opts to put in it. )

I had someone here. Someone from back home--probably the only person I'd've been happy to see from there. Asshole just up and disappeared.

You want it grilled?

[ Since there's cheese going on here. A loaded grilled cheese actually sounds pretty good to Drake.

He glances up from making it when Sam actually explains what's wrong, though. And it winds up being something he's really familiar with -- someone you care about vanishing, and you're unsure if you'll ever see them again. How much it hurts. The fear as well as the loss. ]

...I'm sorry. That sucks, I've been there.

He'll be dead in a couple years. Not as in, I'm a couple years ahead and remember him dying or some shit. But as in his body's falling apart and there ain't shit anyone there can do about it.

( darker than he'd really planned on going during this visit but whatever. he's here now. )

Was hoping we could just figure shit out here, 's too damn bad it didn't pan out.

Grilled is fine.

[ Drake assembles the sandwich quietly as Sam talks, his sympathy rising. It really is too damn bad, he thinks, and wonders if he should continue to commiserate or just let Sam get it out, let that stand on its own. ]

You want to talk about him? Tell me what he's like?

Nah. Told you more already than I'd told near anyone else.

( how's that for trust building? not that it really matters, since bram is gone. )

Puts me right back to square one though.

[ Oh. Damn. Drake didn't expect that either. He's at a bit of a loss, just flipping the sandwich in the pan until Sam speaks again. ]

Square one? How do you mean?

If he was still here, I'd've been fine staying here. Now that he's gone? I gotta find a way back to that hellhole.

( so. square one. back to fucking with the system until he finds a weak spot he can exploit and get into the nitty gritty details of how shit here works. )

Easier said than done, yeah.

[ He's been there, too. But he wonders... ]

Any leads so far?

Nope, nada. Nothing.

( very unhelpful, but it's about as far as he's gotten also. no leads. there's the guy who made duplicity, but sam hasn't found a way to access him yet. )

Locals are very unhelpful.

That's for sure. And I'm guessing you've talked to everybody who's been here for years already, right?

[ He slides Sam's sandwich onto a plate for him, flicking off the stove. Here you go, buddy. ]

No.

( but he does reach to snatch the sandwich off his plate, takes a messy bite out of it before he finishes his answer around a mouthful, )

I'm shit at people.

[ Drake sets the plate down on the counter next to Sam and leans back to consider him. ]

Why do you say that?

I had my people back home, right? A few friends and shit. Most've what we did was talk shit constantly and beat the crap out of each other for fun. Then there was Bram. Who's the exact opposite of every other fucking person I'd ever spent more than two seconds around without wanting to rip out their guts through their assholes,

( he's getting to his point, but he's taking another bite first. )

People're complicated. I don't give a shit about just fucking around with 'em at parties or whatever, but fucking up my chance at getting information out of 'em by being the dickbag I am ain't on my game plan. So I haven't gone hunting 'em down yet.

I could help you.

[ It slips out before Drake really thinks about it, but even when he does it just makes sense. ]

We can come up with some questions and I'll track 'em down and get the answers. This is sort of what I did back home.

What'd you do back home?

( another piece of the drake puzzle that he's been working on solving for a while. )

[ There's a good chance that he's about to get shit for this, but he's not gonna lie either. He shrugs. ]

I was an undercover cop.

Oh.

( another bite. slow, like he's considering how he wants to respond to that before, )

Gross.

Yeah, that's about what I expected. But depending on how you look at it I was either really good or really bad.

I mean--apparently you're fucking dead or some shit, right? So.

[ Well, not anymore, but Drake huffs softly. There's no amusement in it. ]

Work doesn't have much to do with how I died.

How'd you kick it?

( this is a perfectly appropriate conversation to have over a sandwich, right. )

The answer is human experimentation, but how we get there is kind of complicated.

[ Sam doesn't respond, just eating his sandwich, but for lack of anything else to talk about Drake shrugs and goes on. ]

I knew this guy from my time in prison, Pogo. He was a dealer... called me one night from the trunk of a car and I heard him get executed. But he told me what he was seeing out the tail light while he was in there, so I knew where he was buried. He had something on him that night, a bad batch of drugs that had caused a massacre. Or that's what I thought.

Anyway, looking into it I got shot. Almost didn't make it, but the guys who wanted the leftover drugs brought me to somebody who was able to turn me into a zombie so I didn't just die.

[ You still with him, Sam? And no, he's not shitting you. ]

( drake talks enough that he can scarf the rest of his sandwich down without feeling fucking awkward just sitting up here, so thanks for the opening, he'll definitely take it.

by the time he finishes, sam's shoving the last little corner of crust into his mouth and chewing it down. he's mostly pretending to focus down on the sandwich itself, but the word zombie gets his attention, and, well. )

A zombie. No shit?

No shit. It's fucking awful, honestly. And this is where it gets complicated, but you don't need to know how it happened -- honestly I'm a little muddy on the details myself since I was frozen for most of it. But ultimately I wound up in a cell in a research lab where they were experimenting on zombies.

[ He crosses his arms, remembering. ]

They told us we were being used to test a cure, but the people who came back to the cells after getting it weren't people anymore. Last thing I remember is the shot.

Well, shit. That sucks.

( doesn't really cover how much it sucks but. he's guessing drake doesn't really need his sympathy. he looks like he's fine. if he isn't fine, he's good at faking it. )

So, like. A brain-eating zombie, or?

[ He isn't exactly fine, but he can talk about it now that he's human again -- safe. ]

That's kinda the defining characteristic of zombiedom.

Only zombies I know of are from movies and shit. And those like to overexaggerate.

( just saying. )

And now you're--what, just a normal ol' human again?

In my world it's not exactly like the movies. You're still alive, technically. It's an infection that slows your vitals and requires you to eat brains to stay human... you don't eat for long enough and you'll turn into the kind of monster from the movies, and there's no way back.

[ Hang on, Sam, this is where it gets weirder. ]

I stayed like that for a long time in Hadriel because I could protect people better -- zombies can survive just about anything, and we have an extreme response to adrenaline that makes us stronger and faster. But towards the end of the war there I asked the gods to be normal again. They made me a new body.

Gross, gods.

( even worse than cops, apparently. but he's pulling himself off the counter, and brushing off any bread crumbs from his shirt in the process. )

So aside from the whole brains bullshit, it worked for you. I can do that crap. Survive almost anything and shit.

They weren't really gods, that's just what the native species of their planet called them. They were aliens with extraordinary abilities.

[ The Hadriel gods were real good to Drake, in any case. ]

Anyway, the brains bullshit is worse than just eating them. You kind of take on traits of the person you ate, get flashes of their life, their death... you can lose track of who you really are, hopping from one brain to another.

Even worse.

( sounds terrible, who would like some fake-gods, sam doesn't even like the all-powerful whatever the fuck beings he's got back home. well. mostly because most of them keep trying to gut him. and the other ones are just overly large assholes running on a power trip. but that's a story for later. )

If you get re-zombified, don't eat my brains.

I'm not planning on either of those things. And for the record, I never killed anybody to eat.

I'd probably survive it, to be fair.

( a hand raising up to the side of his head, like he's--checking for an old wound. )

I mean, long as you don't fuck up my whole brain. A lil nibble probably won't hurt.

Unless you can regenerate, not just heal, I think it would hurt. But I'm no neurologist.

I've got shit halfwings that keep insisting on growing back no matter how many times I cut 'em off. And I'm pretty sure I've lost some internal organs at some point and've been fine. But,

( a grin, stupid and easy. )

don't eat my brains. Just in case you get all cold an' brain hungry again.

Okay. I promise.

[ He crosses his heart, grinning back. ]

You're just rolling with all this?

I got in a sword fight once with some asshole that looked like if you took an octopus, shredded half it's legthings, then taped it back together on top of a two-legged goat.

( a vague gesture, between them both. )

He wanted to eat my eyes. So your thing sounds normalish, aside from the cop bit. That's just fucked up.

That's... quite a description.

[ Drake shrugs at that last, though. ]

I just wanted to help people.

Did you? Help people?

( jury's still out on whether drake is actually a good guy or just a great manipulator. )

Definitely some. Not as many as I would've liked, but it still matters to the people I did save.

[ Drake tilts his head at Sam. ]

You still don't trust me, huh?

Don't take offense to it. I don't trust nobody.

( but the sandwich wasn't poisoned and drake just let sam in without any arguments, which does give him several points in his favor. )

You're alright.

Yeah? I'll take it.

[ He grins at Sam, then circles back to his original point. ]

So what do you think? We could work together.

What're you planning on doing when you get outta here?

( it doesn't matter, he's still just--scoping out drake's intentions. )

...honestly, I don't know. It's. Really complicated for me.

[ Not just that he's dead, of course there are ways around that. Especially if he got his Door orb back from the stuff he's pretty sure was confiscated when he arrived. ]

Complicated how?

( probably the dead thing, he's betting. a little hard to go back to that. )

Well I can't go home, obviously. But I had a plan... we had a plan.

[ He hesitates for a moment, wondering if he trusts Sam... hmm. Ah, he might as well just spit it out. Worst case Sam talks about it with Ephemera and the guy might need someone to discuss it with anyway. ]

I was engaged, in Hadriel.

( we had a plan, and sam doesn't need to follow up with the who's we because drake's quick to fill in the blankets for him. )

Huh.

You and who?

Ephemera.

[ He holds up a hand to stall questions, since he's possibly about to answer a few. ]

The one here doesn't remember any of it, and yes he knows.

Huh.

( didn't expect that guy to be the sort who would get engaged. sam's finished his sandwich, he's still hungry, so he's going to just--casually let himself off the counter and start sifting through cupboards. don't mind him, he's just here for the snacks. )

Must feel real weird then, right? That you guys were close to gettin' hitched far as you remember, and he doesn't remember jack shit about it.

Edited 2021-09-27 18:47 (UTC)

[ Drake doesn't stop him. The first cupboard Sam opens is staples and seasonings but the second has snacks. Go nuts. ]

It did, at first. Not knowing if he forgot or is someone else entirely, and the person I knew is out there alone now. But then I realized as long as we're stuck here, it doesn't really matter. I want to be with him either way.

[ There's more to it. He feels like he helps, and Ephemera trusted him from the start, again. It didn't take long before he fell for this one too. ]

What a softie.

( he--snickers, but it's soft. teasing but not malicious. there's a box of some kind of crackers, which sam pulls down and opens so he can shove them into his mouth. )

Does he wanna be with you like that, even here?

[ Drake huffs, stepping closer and digging towards the back of the cupboard -- he has cookies Sam didn't see -- and puts the package on the counter between them. ]

Like that? Nah. He's not ready for something like that.

[ But they're contracted, and living together, and usually sleep in the same bed... so Drake wonders. If they'll get there again. And just what he'll do if that's the case when it comes time to leave. ]

( sucks to be drake, he can't be wooed by sweets. but he'll shove one of the cookies into his mouth anyway, because food is always good and why would he turn it down? )

Were you guys exclusive before? Far as you remember.

( because fuck island would be real inconveniencing if so, wouldn't it. especially since drake's the only one who remembers. but he seems to run with shit just fine, considering how easily he'd opted to just run with sam being an asshole at him during camp. so. )

[ Drake considers that... then shakes his head. ]

It hadn't come up for a long time, but originally no. Either way I'd say this place is extenuating circumstances, wouldn't you?

'm sure you could still mostly manage it here.

( not during crap like camp but. mostly. a loose roll of his shoulders, before he's switching back to the crackers. )

But 'm starting to get used to you, an' I actually kinda like Terrence, so just wanna make sure I'm not crossing line I didn't know're there.

Mostly. This place kind of likes forcing the issue, though.

[ Drake grins when Sam says he's getting used to him, and it only broadens with the rest. ]

No, man, you're good. Getting used to me, huh?

I let you touch my ass, didn't I? That's a pretty solid second base.

( what base system is he running off of, here. does sam even know? definitely not. crackers down on the counter, he--takes a step closer to drake. slouches a bit and tips his head down a bit so they're a little closer to eye-level. )

Cop thing's a little bit of a turn-off though.

[ Drake shrugs a little, looking up at Sam as he comes closer. He won't lie that he's a little disappointed to hear that, but it is what it is. ]

Very few people don't hold it against me, I'm used to it.

Least you acknowledge it.

( hand to drake's shoulder, but there's no pressure behind the touch. sam's eyes move down to his hand, like he's--considering where he's going with it. )

You haven't pulled shit with me yet, which's points in your favor. I'd say that leaves you at.. ( eyes rolling up, as he--pretends to mouth counting out numbers.

he's shit at math actually but sam knows how to fake it. )

A solid seven out of ten.

Hey, I'm not a fan either. The vast majority of the people I worked with were corrupt or abusive or both.

[ Then Sam's hand is on his shoulder and Drake glances at it, then him, lips quirking like he's trying not to smile. ]

I'll take a seven. Not that I know what this scale is for.

That gets you up to an eight point five out of ten.

( a stupid smirk, before he's leaning in the bit of distance that separates them and--presses a kiss against drake's cheek, just below his eye. )

Thanks for the food.

[ But what's the scale for, Sam?! Drake doesn't ask again, though, just smiles up at him. That kiss was very cute. ]

Anytime. You heading out already?

( the secret is that the scale has no meaning. he's just fucking with drake. it's more fun this way. but he laughs soft, pats drake's shoulder, and moves to walk on passed him. )

Yep. I'll see you next time.

( it's not telling drake off so it's some kind of progress, right? )

[ Drake lets him go -- he hopes he helped the loneliness a little at least. ]

Sure. Take care of yourself, Sam.

[ There are times when he loses himself in the painting. Locks himself away and lets the outside world die, where nothing exists but the image and what he does to make it real. In some ways, it's like fielding a drop. You compartmentalize. There's nothing but the objective and the details required to survive it. The rest becomes noise. Nothing but a nuisance. Nothing that needs to be remembered, so he doesn't.

He doesn't remember the first time he saw combat. It's gone, an old memory. All the color washed out. No point in dwelling. And he doesn't remember how he gets home after knocking York unconscious in the alley.

It happens. At some point he comes back to himself in his own room, surrounded by canvases and an empty bottle of whiskey. Fielding an awful headache.

Fuck, Ephemera thinks, and drags a hand down his face. Fucking hell.

He exhales. He's painted violent things. Nothing so straightforward as portraits. It's all abstract shit now. Eyes and half-formed faces, corpses burning. A series of three connected pieces that bridge the gap between a night sky and the aftermath of a plasma bombardment - either way, the black shine of dying things, trailed by ghosts. The only good thing is that at least he hasn't painted York. Ephemera doesn't think he could come back from that one.

He swallows, his throat dry. He's drunk enough to know he's utterly wasted, but not far gone enough to pass the fuck out.

A shame. That'd be easier.

He sways. And then he heads back out to get some water before he makes his impending hangover all the worse. He knocks on Drake's door, in the meantime. ]

'm not dead.

[ In case he was wondering. ]

[ When Drake came home from work, Ephemera's boots were in the foyer and his door was closed with the light on behind it. He didn't think much of it, then, figuring the other man was working on his painting and would come out for dinner. But that didn't happen either. Still, Drake tried not to worry. He eats alone, wraps Ephemera's plate and puts it in the fridge, and cleans up. Goes to read in his room with the door ajar, just in case.

Finally, just when he was considering trying to get some sleep with the intention of checking on Ephemera in the morning to make sure he's okay... but then comes a knock. And the comment would be comical, making light of Drake's penchant to worry when Ephemera doesn't check in for too long, except there's something in his voice. It's a little slurred, a little flat.

Drake sits up, putting his book aside, and calls out. ]

It's open. Come in?

[ Ephemera pushes the door open a touch wider, but doesn’t come in. He leans against the doorframe instead, watching Drake. Wondering what he’s supposed to say.

There’s blood under his nails. Paint, too. ]

You okay?

[ That's as worrying as his voice, honestly. Drake is quiet for a long moment, then breathes out and gets up from bed. Ephemera doesn't look hurt, but there's something in his good eye that's haunted and suffering.

He comes over slowly, like he doesn't want to startle Ephemera away, and reaches up to wipe a smudge of paint off his cheek. ]

I think I should be asking you that. What's wrong?

[ Ephemera just closes his eyes and breathes out. He’s drunk and he doesn’t flinch, but the whole moment has a dreamlike quality to it. Like it’s happening to someone else.

Drake’s hand is real, though. Isn’t it? ]

I didn’t kill him.

[ And there are entirely too many people that could apply to right now. ]

[ Ephemera is very drunk. Drake can smell it as much as tell from his voice and eye, but he's letting that go for now. Just molding his hand to Ephemera's face and staying calm, because that's what he needs to be. It's shockingly easy with Ephemera -- he's never been scared of the other man. Only worried, like he is now. His question is simple to start. The complicated one can come next. ]

Who?

[ He leans into the touch. It's real, he's fairly certain. Or if he's not, then he's dreaming. ]

York...

[ It comes out more tired than anything else. ]

[ York. Not one of the ones Drake knows well, he was only in Hadriel for that one event but he'd seemed like a good guy. Helped bring Freelancer down, right? Is that why..? No, he shouldn't guess. Ephemera's right in front of him. ]

Come on, let's go sit down.

[ He wraps an arm around the other man's shoulders and leads him back out to the couch, sitting close and taking one of his blood and paint stained hands. ]

Can you tell me why, or is that why you're like this now?

[ It’s hard to focus, to remember what he’d intended when he knocked on Drake’s door. Ephemera just exhales and goes with it, goes where Drake directs him. Drake puts an arm around him, takes one of Ephemera’s hands in his own.

There’s blood under his jails, Ephemera thinks absently. And a knife still up his sleeve. Drake can probably feel the lines of the sheath.

Ephemera shakes his head. ]

He wouldn’t fight back.

[ Oh. That's... interesting. He squeezes Ephemera's hand and nods. ]

...I can understand that.

[ Both sides, actually, but he's pretty sure York didn't know that passivity is the key to stopping a fight with Ephemera. ]

What are you feeling?

Drunk.

[ Ephemera twitches. Closes his eyes. The moment feels both too distance and entirely too heavy to bear. ]

I don’t know.

[ Drake takes a moment to study Ephemera, sitting there against his side with his eyes closed. Sure, he's drunk, but he doesn't sound angry..? ]

It's just grief, isn't it?

[ Sometimes the truth hits him like a blade. Twists in sharp and rips him to pieces.

Ephemera twitches. He squeezes Drake's hand. ]

I miss them. It hurts.

I know.

[ Gently, he pulls Ephemera tighter in against his side for a hug, touching their foreheads. ]

You're not alone, okay? And you shouldn't feel like you failed at anything because you didn't kill him.

[ It hits him strange. Even after all this time, the grief cuts in deep. Catches him unaware. Ephemera rocks forward, biting back a sob. No, he thinks. No, don't be gentle. I can't. I can't, I -

He realizes, belatedly, that he said the last part out loud. Ephemera shakes his head mutely and then gives in and just presses his face into Drake's shoulder to hide. As he weeps. ]

[ Oh... Drake breathes out, then lets go of Ephemera's hand to cradle his head protectively instead. Holding him gentle but firm, stroking his back, just letting him get some of it out. Sometimes that's all you can do, he thinks.

It isn't until the other man has seemed to exhaust himself that he says anything again, voice low and soft, murmuring into Ephemera's hair. ]

Can't what, babe?

[ It goes on like that for a while and then, eventually, it ends Ephemera slumps against Drake, feeling nothing but the hollow drag of exhaustion. He's drunk. He used to like being drunk. Now it's a means to an end.

Fuck.

He shivers. ]

This. With them - here.

[ Drake rests his chin on top of Ephemera's head, holding him close. While he's this drunk might be a bad time to try and talk through it, but sooner is always better. He decides they might as well try. ]

Yeah you can. I know you can. Tell me what happened?

[ How do you put that to words? Ephemera shivers, his good eye screwed tight. He can feel a headache building. Pulsing in his skull. Ruining him. But Drake is steady and solid, and Ephemera can hear his heartbeat.

Steady. At least one thing is. ]

Didn't know who he was. Didn't check. Thought he was just...a soldier from back home.

[ He's coherent, that's good. Drake would like to get some water and painkillers into him, but if he's talking right now they should get to the bottom of this. ]

And after you found out? What did you feel?

[ That part's easy. Ephemera twitches, face still hidden against Drake's shoulder. His voice is muffled. But he can still manage words, so.

That's something. ]

Angry. Wanted to kill him.

[ He's managing. Drake's just doing his best to walk him through it, unravel what's surely a tangled mess of emotions right now. ]

Why didn't you? Why does it matter if he fights back?

[ There’s a long moment of quiet. Then: ]

Have to be lines.

[ Even with vengeance. ]

[ That's simple, Drake thinks. But he's about to ask about something that isn't. ]

And why wouldn't he fight?

[ Yeah. That. Ephemera takes a shaky breath. Lets it go. ]

Said -

[ Even now, he wants it to have been a trick. Even now, he has a horrible feeling that it wasn't. ]

Said I was hurting enough.

[ That sits between them for a moment, Drake considering what he knows about York and from who. What the likelihood is he was being genuine. In the end he just doesn't know enough to make that call, but he might try and talk to the guy about this. ]

I never met him. York, I mean. I don't know if he's the type to try and manipulate you, but he's definitely not wrong.

[ He hesitates, then takes a breath and adds something else. ]

I did meet Hunter once, did I ever mention that?

[ Ephemera goes very still. For a moment, he barely breathes. ]

...no. He was - he was alive?

[ Drake nods, knowing Ephemera will feel the motion against his head. Yeah. He was alive... ]

He was going by CT.

[ He's not going to recount the whole time Hunter was there, what they went through with him. Attacking Ephemera, hating Drake, withdrawing from drugs, wanting to go after the Freelancers they had a truce with. It was a mess. But he does have a point here. ]

Oh.

[ CT. Not Hunter. The two get confused in his mind sometimes. He knows they weren't two different people, not literally. But sometimes it's easier to think of it that way. To try and separate them, because Hunter loved him and he thinks CT did too, in some fucked up way, but CT wasn't there. CT was a ghost as much as the others were.

Ephemera shivers. ]

He wasn't - okay. He couldn't, after they died.

No. No, he wasn't okay.

[ Drake strokes his hand down Ephemera's back as he shivers, trying to soothe him a little because this part of the conversation isn't going to be easy. ]

That's when he told you kill them all, right?

[ So Drake knows about that, too. Ephemera doesn't answer immediately. His head swims. He shivers.

Then he nods. ]

Yeah. We - promised. For the others.

[ For their family. There was nothing else left. ]

[ Yeah, he knows. He knows too much, honestly, and this might be crossing a line but he can't not say it. ]

I don't wanna upset you but I think... if he was his right mind he never would've asked you to promise that. The guy I met, he was broken because he couldn't process his grief. And I've seen Hunter, memories of him. That guy never would've wanted you to break, too.

He was my family.

[ It comes out soft. Not a denial. But a truth, still. ]

He was the only one left.

I know. And you still love him, all of them, and nothing can ever take that away. But that promise... I can't watch it destroy you, too.

[ His hand stills on Ephemera's neck, covering the implant. ]

Grief is hard. But it's more than anger. More than revenge. It has to be.

[ The hand on his neck is gentle. It's an old gesture. A comfort, even like this. It always was.

Ephemera doesn't say anything for a long time. Then, silently, he shifts so he can put his hand over Drake's wrist. Just - holding, for now. Keeping him close. ]

It hurts, Drake. All the time.

[ Ephemera goes quiet and Drake doesn't push. Just gives the other man some time to process what he's said. They might not finish this conversation tonight, or even this week, but it's something for Ephemera to think about. To decide if this is really the road that's right for him to go down. ]

Most of the things they say make it hurt less are fucking lies, you know? Time. Revenge. Booze. The only thing that really helps is rebuilding. You don't move on. You move forward.

[ They've had conversations about this before. Or if not like this, moments that felt along similar lines. The past is written. The future isn't. And they're alive now, both of them.

There's a future here. Or there could be.

Ephemera squeezes Drake's wrist, pressing his thumb against Drake's pulse point. He can't find the words right now. Everything feels so goddamn heavy. But he doesn't flinch away. Drake's here, solid and real.

It matters. It has to. ]

[ Ephemera squeezes his wrist and Drake can feel his pulse thudding steadily under the pressure, reaffirming that he's alive and human. And there's hope in that. There's hope for Ephemera too, whether he thinks there is right now or not.

Drake breathes out slowly, and says something he's only dared say aloud when he's sure Ephemera's asleep. ]

I love you. I'm on your side, okay?

[ Ephemera doesn't say anything for a long time. He breathes. He sits with it, feeling Drake's pulse against his thumb. Strong and steady. Alive.

He knew, he thinks. Even if he couldn't put it into words. He saw the way Drake looks at him, moves around him. And he knew. Maybe not right away, but soon enough. Sometimes things just slot into place. They were together in another world. Or a version of Ephemera stood next to Drake in the ways that mattered. They trusted each other. Held each other. And they're holding each other now.

Fuck.

Ephemera keeps his good eye closed. But he shifts a little, and takes his hand off of Drake's wrist just long enough to make two gestures. Sign language is it's own thing, expressive in a way even speaking out loud isn't. But sometimes he can't manage verbalizing. Sometimes, like now, the words just die in his throat. But the gesture are there. Sometimes he can manage that.

He breathes out. He makes two gestures. Thumb and index finger pointed out. Then he extends his little finger and taps it against Drake's wrist.

Everything translates here. The gesture is simple.

Love you. ]

[ Drake doesn't know sign language, but everything translates. He knows what it means. His breath catches, pulse speeding up, and despite how fraught the moment is he finds himself smiling. He wasn't sure if saying it now would help or overwhelm the other man, but it seems to have worked out. Maybe.

He buries his face into Ephemera's hair, pressing a kiss to the top of his head and just. Settles. Holds him close and lets himself hope for awhile.

Eventually, the moment has to break. He'd be content to let Ephemera just fall asleep in his arms except the other man is very drunk -- not so drunk he won't remember, Drake's pretty sure, but enough that he's going to be sick as hell in the morning if they don't take a few steps now. ]

Hey. Can I get some water into you?

[ It settles. Somehow, despite all odds, the moment settles. Ephemera keeps his good eye closed and just - breathes. Focuses on the way that Drake feels against him, solid and warm, and lets himself drift into a quieter place.

It settles. They're okay. ]

Mhph.

[ He squeezes Drake's wrist. ]

Okay...

I'll be right back.

[ Drake kisses his head again and waits for Ephemera to lean back so he can get up, then heads straight across to the kitchen and grabs the tallest glass he has. Runs the tap so that it's just the right temperature -- just slightly cool so he doesn't just throw it up -- and comes straight back with it. He takes his seat next to Ephemera and passes the glass, settling an arm around him again. ]

You wanna stay with me tonight or on your own?

[ A shower is probably out of the question but hopefully he can help the other man to scrub up so he doesn't sleep splattered in paint and York's blood. ]

[ Ephemera presses the heel of his hand into his good eye until kaleidoscopes bloom across his vision. The colors twist. He tries to focus on that and not the pounding in his head, or the grief threatening to come creeping back up and wreck him.

Breathe. Remember where you are. Stay, soldier.

He drops his hand when Drake comes back and takes the glass. Drinks slowly. ]

With you.

[ It comes out soft. He's fucking tired, but he doesn't want to be alone. Not right now. ]

[ There's definite relief in Drake's expression when Ephemera says that. It's a good sign, he thinks, that the other man can still accept comfort, isn't just pulling away and sinking down into his grief like quicksand. He's still present. Hurting in several ways, but here.

They'll probably get shitty sleep -- Ephemera's bound to have nightmares tonight -- but Drake couldn't care less. As long as he can be there for them. ]

Okay. I'm glad.

[ He rubs Ephemera's shoulder a little, feeling how tense he is and frowning slightly. ]

How about you finish that, wash up, and I'll rub your back? You're coiled like a spring.

[ Ephemera drags a hand down his face, knuckling into his bad eye. Watching the kaleidoscope colors bloom across his vision yet again. Fuck, he feels like shit. ]

You don't have to do that. I already wrecked your night.

[ He drops his hand, peering at Drake. ]

Are you - okay?

Hey, you didn't wreck anything.

[ His tone is gentle, but very certain. And yeah Drake's a little worried what's going on in the other man's head right now but... he would've been upset if Ephemera had tried to hide this or felt like he couldn't come to him. ]

I'm just glad you came to me.

[ Ephemera watches Drake for a moment, trying and failing to come up with the right words for this. There must be words, he thinks. But he can't think of them. It's hard to think at all.

After a moment, he just shifts and bumps their foreheads together. Taking comfort from the closeness. ]

[ Drake automatically reaches up to cradle the other man's head, eyes closing. Ephemera's supposed to be hydrating, but... another moment or two won't hurt. ]

We don't have to talk about it anymore tonight, but I hope you'll keep telling me what you're feeling.

[ More than anything he wants to help Ephemera sort through it, so he can start processing his grief. ]

Like I'm going to have an awesome hangover.

[ Breathe out. You're okay. He closes his good eye. ]

Tired. Brittle.

[ Drake hums softly in understanding. And it's late even if Ephemera hadn't had an extremely emotional day. ]

Finish the water, and we can crash?

[ Ephemera sighs, holding the glass loosely. ]

Yeah. Okay.

[ He finishes the water. ]

[ Drake nods encouragingly, holding his hand out for the empty glass when Ephemera finishes it. ]

Go wash up? Maybe take some painkillers just to head it off. I'll be right in.

[ Ephemera nods slowly, handing the glass over. He doubts he'd be able to manage a shower, but he can splash some water on his face. Get his boots off. ]

Okay.

[ Then, softer: ]

Thank you.

[ Drake smiles softly, tilting his face up and kissing Ephemera's forehead. ]

You're welcome. Go on.

[ While Ephemera washes the blood and paint off he's gonna get him a water refill, and see if they have anything like crackers hanging around. He'll meet the other man back in his room. ]

[ And just like that, things settle a little. Not all the way, but -

Enough.

Ephemera washes his face. Toes his boots off and lines them up. And then he heads back into Drake's room, swaying a little as he goes. He's drunk. On the edge of lost but still present, still in the moment. Still here. He leans against the wall and just watches Drake for a moment. Taking him in. Then, quietly: ]

Think I love you.

[ Drake managed to find the crackers and is just coming back with them and a refilled water glass, setting them down on Ephemera's nightstand. He doesn't hear the other man come back, with his boots off, until he says something.

Something very good.

Ephemera's drunk, Drake recognizes. But still said it. He just hopes it's not something the other man regrets in the morning one way or another. There's no way he's not going to smile at hearing it, though. Soft and warm and fond. He crosses back to where Ephemera's leaning against the wall, reaching out to be leaned on instead. ]

C'mere.

[ Fuck, Ephemera thinks, staring at Drake. That smile. That’s going to be the end of him. Because Drake means it, all of it. And it feels easy when Ephemera takes his hand, leaning against him. Letting Drake help him over.

It won’t be the first time they’ve shared a bed. But it -

Matters. It matters. This time is different.

He sighs. Closes his good eye. ]

Okay.

[ Drake helps Ephemera over to the bed, sits him down on the edge of it and helps him get his legs up. Then circles around and gets in himself, pulling up the blanket.

Instead of opening his arms as usual, though, he reaches up and smoothes Ephemera's bangs out of his face. ]

You feel up for a goodnight kiss?

[ And just like before, when Drake helped him move, it’s easy. The blankets are soft and even as drunk as he as, Ephemera knows where he is. He doesn’t always sleep well and there are nights when he still retreats to the floor to rest, paranoia bleeding through.

Not now, though. He cracks his good eye, peering at Drake. Giving him a faint smile. ]

Yeah.

[ Shitty as he feels, he wants that. ]

[ Some nights Ephemera doesn't stay, it's true. But they're still sharing more often than not, and Drake likes to think he gets a little comfort from it. Hopefully tonight is one of those nights.

Drake smiles, leaning in and brushing their noses together just to give him a moment to prepare... then tilts his head for a soft kiss.

He did warn Ephemera that it was what he wanted to do every time he said something sweet. ]

[ Drake leans in close, lingering for a moment, and then -

It's gentle, in the end. Maybe one day that'll stop surprising him. Maybe one day it'll stop feeling strange. Ephemera barely moves, afraid to ruin it. But Drake presses his mouth to Ephemera's and it's just -

It's good, he thinks, and makes a small sound. It doesn't hurt at all. It never has, with Drake.

Ephemera shifts, cupping the back of Drake's neck, and kisses him back. Not hard, and not for long, but it matters.

It matters. ]

[ The little sounds Ephemera makes when they kiss are going to be the end of him, Drake thinks. The way the other man touches him, so carefully. And although there's no heat in his, no urgency, there's a lot of love. He keeps it soft and sweet for as long as Ephemera's kissing back, then lets it break just as gently. Stays close, eyes shining in the dim light from the streetlamps far below. ]

You should probably sleep on your side.

[ He'll let Ephemera pick the position, though -- however he's comfortable. ]

[ They linger like that for a moment, just watching each other. Ephemera swallows hard. And he wonders, suddenly, what it'd be like if they did this with more intent. If maybe he could manage it. Something mutual.

Maybe. Not right now, not like this, but -

One day. That'd be nice, he thinks. ]

Yeah.

[ His voice is soft. Then he sighs, and rolls onto his side. Facing the wall, his back to Drake. It feels -

Safe, like that. Drake will watch his back. Always has. ]

[ Not tonight. Not while he's drunk, and not while he's this upset. But someday probably soon, Drake thinks, they'll be ready.

Tonight he just snuggles in against Ephemera's back, kissing the nape of his neck and wrapping an arm around his waist. He brushes against Ephemera's hand and decides to hold that as well, hoping being the little spoon tonight makes him feel safe. Protected and just... comfortable, as much as he can be.

It's late and it doesn't take long before he falls asleep, Ephemera warm and solid in his arms. It's not a peaceful night -- several times Ephemera jolts awake from a nightmare and Drake has to soothe him back to restfulness. All soft touches and tones, though his voice is rough from sleep. Still reaching for that feeling of safety. He doesn't know for sure what's going on in the other man's dreams but every time Ephemera's able to relax against him again and fall back to sleep so when morning does come and the other man is still in his arms he counts it as a win.

He lies still, not wanting to wake Ephemera before he's ready or jostle him when he surely has an awful hangover. ]

[ The dreams bleed from one violent end to another. Some memories, some not. Sometimes the two blend, giving him new horrors to stare at in the dark. Ships burning in the sky. A planet sundered. His family in pieces. His friends in chains. Drake, shot in the head. Crais, his throat cut. Lakshmi bleeding out, unable to heal from catastrophic damage. He tries to save them, protect them. He never can. And he wakes shaking, reaching for a weapon -

And then he settles, because Drake is there. Alive and strong, his voice rough from sleep but very much alive. And it's okay.

It's okay.

He sleeps. Not well, but he sleeps. And when he wakes, his head feels like it's going to crack apart and cut him to pieces on the shards. ]

Fuck.

[ Ephemera groans, knuckling into his bad eye. Ow. Ow. ]

[ Ah, there's the hangover. Drake pushes himself up onto an elbow to be able to see the other man's face when he stirs, maybe gauge how bad it is. ]

Hey.

[ Looks like the headache is the worst of it, this time. ]

Should I grab you some more painkillers?

Hey.

[ At least he’s not puking his guts out just yet. Small favors. Ephemera keeps his hand clapped over his eye. Today is going to suck. ]

Uh huh. Head’s killing me.

Just a second. Try to sit up, have a cracker or two before we put more acid in your stomach.

[ He kisses Ephemera's shoulder and pushes himself up further to get out of bed. His footsteps are soft heading to the bathroom, then there's the telltale rattle of a bottle, and Drake coming back with some meds in hand. ]

Here.

[ He sits on the edge of the bed and hands them over. ]

[ He has to get up now. Face the aftermath. Ephemera sighs, dropping his hand.

Nothing for it, then. He sits upright with a grunt. And while the world spins, he manages to keep everything down. Small favors.

Ephemera gives Drake a faint, tired smile. ]

Thanks. Feel like shit, but I think I’ll live.

You should take it easy today, but yeah. You'll live.

[ Drake smiles gently -- Ephemera's a survivor, that's for sure. And certainly won't be dying on his watch. ]

You remember what we talked about last night?

Yeah. Most of it.

[ He rubs at his face, giving Drake a tired look. ]

How much of a mess was I?

That's real subjective. If you're asking me?

[ He sets a hand on Ephemera's knee, over the covers, and squeezes gently. ]

You were drunk and hurting but still willing to listen, so I'm proud of you.

[ He watches Drake for a moment, then nods just once. ]

Felt like hell, after that shit with York. But not with you. That was -

That felt good.

[ Not all of it, Drake thinks -- he'd challenged the other man even if he hadn't pushed for resolution in one night. He's still a little worried what Ephemera's thinking about the whole Freelancer revenge quest, but... that's obviously not what he's talking about right now. ]

You remember, huh? And you meant it?

Yeah.

[ His memory is spotty even when he's sober, but not about this. This bled true. ]

I've loved people before. My family. We said it a lot. Meant it every time. But that was - different. They were my brothers, my sisters. And you're -

[ He hesitates. ]

It's different. I'm different now. But it feels - good.

[ Drake nods his understanding -- no, he's not like a brother. It's different. 'In love' is different, and it's freeing to be able to say it. To hear it.

He scoots a little closer, still smiling. ]

I'm glad -- it's supposed to.

I've never said it like this.

[ He loved his family. Loves them still, even though they're gone. He'll carry their ghosts until the end, whatever that means and wherever that takes him. But they were always siblings to him, the lines clearly drawn. It felt safe that way. He knew who he was with them. And this thing with Drake is new, and different, and he's never had that before. Not quite like this.

Even so, Drake comes closer. And he smiles like that, and it -

Fuck, Ephemera thinks. That smile. ]

I know I'm not the other one, the one you had a life with. But this - this is good. Not a lot of things are in this city.

Our memories are a big part of who we are, so even if you've just forgotten, I know it's different. You're someone different. But I-- we have a life now. I'll never stop loving him, but I fell for you too.

[ He doesn't know what that means for leaving, but he's going one day at a time. And there's no reason for them to deny themselves anything. ]

You okay with that?

It's complicated.

[ He won't deny that. Sometimes it trips him up. ]

But I don't get jealous. I never have. It just feels right, when I'm with you. Maybe that's enough.

[ Drake reaches for Ephemera's hand where it rests beside him on the mattress, running his thumb over the other man's knuckles. ]

Just remember I love you. That part doesn't have to be complicated.

[ The touch is light. Gentle. Drake's always been that way with him. Careful in a way that never feels like coddling. Ephemera watches him for a moment, then breathes out. Nods. ]

I'll remember. Promise.

[ He leans in and kisses Ephemera's forehead, gives his hand a little squeeze. He feels... peaceful. Like something's right in all the mess of this place. They have something good, and he's going to hold onto it. ]

Good. How's your stomach..? I can make real breakfast.

[ Ephemera closes his good eye, breathing out slow. Then, very carefully, he reaches out and puts his hand on Drake's arm. Lightly, for now. Just to touch him. Hold him, in some small way. ]

Haven't thrown up yet.

[ Small favors. ]

Think I can hold something down.

Okay. What sounds good?

[ He might be stalling, just a little. Just to draw out the moment. To sit here holding on to each other, something so simple that feels so important. ]

[ Ephemera sighs, then takes a chance and presses a little closer so he can put his head on Drake's shoulder and just breathe. It feels safe. Steadying. ]

Always liked your pancakes.

[ Automatically, Drake's hand comes up to cradle Ephemera's head. He threads his fingers through the other man's hair, rubbing lightly against his scalp -- a little massage to help the hangover headache. ]

You've got it. And I never did give you that backrub last night. IOU?

[ That feels nice. Ephemera hums a little, letting himself settle for a moment. Being touched still throws him more often than it doesn't. It's rare that he wants it, even rarer when he can relax into it. He thinks it comes easiest with Drake.

Funny, that. He can't explain it. Never could. ]

Uh huh. But this is making up for it.

I could do it now. Might help the headache.

[ He keeps up the gentle touches, trailing his fingertips to the other man's neck to feel how tense he still is. ]

[ Ephemera presses against Drake, breathing out slow. It feels nice. He likes the shivery feeling that comes from Drake working his fingers through Ephemera's hair and down over his neck, ghosting around the implant. Gentle. ]

Okay. You want me to lie down?

[ Another kiss to the side of Ephemera's head and Drake's pulling back so they can shift around on the bed. ]

Yeah. On your stomach, tell me if you start feeling sick or anything.

[ He hums a little, shifting so he's lying on top of the blankets instead of under them. So far, he hasn't felt sick. His hangover isn't fun by any stretch but it's not the worst he's had over the years. And it feels good just to breathe, to let things settle.

He lies down, his head pillowed on his arms. ]

Feeling okay so far.

That's a good sign.

[ Drake shifts, climbing over Ephemera so his weight is on his knees, on either side of the other man's hips. Runs his hands up and down Ephemera's back, smoothing over his shirt. ]

Just relax.

[ And he starts to massage -- gentler than Henry taught him at first, just nice and relaxing at first. As he feels for knots and tight spots. ]

[ There's a moment where the position gives him pause, but Ephemera breathes though it and it's okay. He settles, focusing on the way it feels to have Drake's hands against him. Pressing against his back. And after a moment, Drake's weight over him feels more like a comfort than a half-remembered threat.

It's been a long time since he's let anyone touch him like this. Ephemera knows he's tense - he always is, these days - but it's one of those things he really only notices when it's gone. Like the pain in his joints, the way everything aches sharpest when it's cold or ten minutes after he first wakes up sleep. There's always a delay. Sometimes he wakes up and he doesn't hurt, but it always catches him afterward. Drake's hands are strong, but he's gentle about how he moves. Finding knots and spots of tension, and easing them away. And Ephemera melts. He feels warm, and -

Safe. And part of him wonders, idly, what it'd feel like to have Drake work him like this in a different context.

He sighs. Keeps his good eye closed. ]

's good. You feel - good, like this.

[ You're safe, Drake thinks, it's just me, and Ephemera gets there without him having to say it out loud. He's careful to keep his weight off the other man but can feel Ephemera uncoiling beneath him, the tension melting away under his hands. It feels nice to him, too, to be doing something where the results are so obvious. To press his fingers in and feel the knots release, to know that he's doing something good. Something where he's leaving Ephemera in a better state than he was in before.

He tilts forward with a little hum, hands still working low on the other man's back as he kisses the nape of his neck where Ephemera's shirt has shifted a little. ]

I like doing it. [ He admits it softly, hands sliding up. ] It's real good after workouts, too.

[ Ephemera huffs out another long sigh, feeling himself go plaint and boneless. It's been a long time since he's relaxed like this, since he's allowed himself to lower his guard long enough to even consider it. There's pain in his joints - there's always pain in his joints - but it feels less as Drake works him, as he leans in and presses a gentle kiss to the back of Ephemera's neck.

He shivers. It's strange, having this. It's even stranger to want it. To feel the pain lessen. ]

Will you teach me? So I can do it for you, too?

Sure.

[ Drake shifts his weight again, straightening so that he can work down Ephemera's arms too. Easing away as much pain as he can with just his touch. ]

The trick's knowing how the muscles go. Working along the lines.

[ He squeezes Ephemera's hands and works back up to his neck, carefully. Minding the implant, just kneading away the tension there. He knows a couple pressure points that should help the headache. ]

Ah -

[ Breathe. It's okay. It's just new, and it doesn't hurt. Ephemera feels his breath catch as Drake works pressure points around his neck. There are a few that Ephemera knows, though only in a violent context. Press one right below the jaw and you'll have a man howling. He never knew that others could have him melting into the blankets. No one ever taught him.

He shivers again. ]

It doesn't hurt.

[ It doesn't hurt at all. ]

Good.

[ Drake keeps massaging carefully, letting a bit of his weight down onto Ephemera's hips -- his legs are getting tired of holding himself like that but his hands are fine. Strong and warm and gentle. ]

Turn your head the other way.

[ Ephemera shivers again, gripping the blankets between his fingers before he takes a deep breath and lets the tension go. Lets himself go slack as Drake's weight settles over him a little bit more. Holding him still. Holding him steady. ]

Okay.

[ He shifts, turning his head. Good side down. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't open his remaining eye and see what Drake's doing. He just has to trust that Drake won't hurt him. And he does. He always has, he thinks. And the warm feeling just -

Spreads. ]

[ He leans forward again, kissing the other side of Ephemera's neck. Just like before, soft and warm. Then repeats the massage he just did, making sure both sides are loose and relaxed. There's nothing to be afraid of in this. It's not going to hurt, not with how careful he's being.

Once he's satisfied he eases up again, sliding off Ephemera's hips to lie beside him, one hand still protectively covering his neck. Ephemera can turn his head back to look at Drake if he wants -- he's smiling with a gentle sort of satisfaction. A job well done, he hopes. ]

You okay?

[ It goes on, Drake working him. Gentle - always, always gentle - and with the sort of care that Ephemera didn't think he'd ever expect from people again. He's still hurting when it's done but the baseline ache fades down, ebbing to almost nothing.

It's strange, not to be in pain. It's become his constant companion. He's not sure to do with himself when it fades.

He shifts, peering at Drake. Good eye half-lidded. ]

It felt good. I don't - hurt anymore.

[ There must still be some pain, Drake thinks. He's not a miracle worker. But he helped. He presses against Ephemera's side and bumps their foreheads together gently, closing his eyes. ]

You're giving me too much credit, but I'll do it whenever you want. Yeah?

Okay.

[ Ephemera closes his good eye, reaching out to put his hand on Drake's arm. Just holding him, for now. ]

Will you kiss me?

[ I'll do that whenever you want, too, Drake thinks, but what comes out is: ]

Always.

[ And he tilts his head to catch Ephemera's mouth.

It's soft, how he always makes an effort to start out. Just a brush of lips at first, a gentle pressure, until his part and draw Ephemera's bottom lip between his own. ]

[ It's gentle, like he knew it would be. But there, Drake's mouth pressing against his. Ephemera makes a small sound, shivering, and tightens his grip on Drake's arm.

He keeps his good eye closed. And he kisses Drake back, his mouth parting. Wanting. Nothing hurts right now, and he -

Wants. ]

[ He still feels a thrill every time they kiss. No matter how many times it happens, like lightning down Drake's spine. Ephemera kisses him back and Drake shivers too. Deepens it slowly, pressing a little closer and slipping his tongue between the other man's parted lips. There's something about the way Ephemera's clutching his arm this time, though. Something about how he's leaning into it.

Drake's almost afraid to hope that Ephemera wants this as much as he does. But it feels that way. ]

[ They've kissed before. Even done it slowly like this. Ephemera sighs, pressing closer. He holds tight to Drake's arm, wanting to -

Get closer. Hold him. Ephemera kisses Drake back, his good eye still closed, and shifts closer. Pressing against him. When they break for air, he feels himself shivering and leans in to bump his forehead against Drake's. ]

Please.

[ The kiss breaks and before Drake can check in, make sure this is still okay, he hears that. Feels the state they're both in just from kissing. Slowly, so Ephemera knows exactly what he's doing, he slides his hand down to the other man's hip and presses in closer.

He's still a little breathless when he speaks. ]

What do you want?

[ Oh. Ephemera swallows hard, his breath catching again. He's hard. He didn't -

He didn't expect that. But Drake feels good, and the way his voice sounds keeps echoing through. Like an electric charge. ]

You.

[ He hesitates a moment, then shifts to press his hand against Drake's chest. Feeling his heartbeat against his palm and then sliding lower, over his stomach. ]

[ That's both very specific and not specific at all, and Drake huffs softly, brushing their noses together as Ephemera's hand slides down his torso. ]

Hey. You've got me. Slow it down.

[ He tilts his head for another kiss, this one deeper and needier than the last... and lets his hand slip under the hem of Ephemera's shirt, caressing his lower back. If they want this to be something mutual, something they both just want? Drake knows they're going to have to go slow and steady. So it feels safe. ]

Fuck. Drake -

[ Ephemera keeps his good eye closed, making a small sound as Drake kisses him. And as Ephemera presses closer and kisses him back, licking into his mouth. Wanting him. There are no words. There are too many words. He used to be good at this. But Drake's hand presses against his back and Ephemera shivers with it, rocking into him. He fists his hand in Drake's shirt and tugs, wanting him closer. Wanting to get on top of him.

Fuck.

He opens his good eye a crack, swallowing hard. ]

Can I? Touch you?

[ Ephemera's still good at this, as far as Drake is concerned. He's reactive, and every little shiver and squirm gets Drake a little hotter. When this kiss breaks he's immediately dipping his head to kiss Ephemera's throat, which results in the question being asked close to his ear. And he can feel the low rumble of the words under his lips. ]

Yeah. Please.

[ He can be polite, too! But at the same time his hand is trailing up Ephemera's back experimentally, dodging the scars so that he feels every touch. The fabric scrunches up around his wrist. ]

Edited 2021-10-03 04:05 (UTC)

[ Drake kisses his throat and Ephemera groans, shivering with it. Everything feels like so much right now, pulling him into the immediate and away from the lingering headache still pulsing between his eyes. He's not completely free of pain but it's the closest he's come in a very long time and it -

It feels almost like a dream. Only half real.

He shivers again, and slips his hand under Drake's shirt. Pressing up, against his stomach. Feeling him out. ]

[ Drake's stomach jumps at the touch, and he makes a small sound of pleasure against Ephemera's neck and leans into it. He wants more, of course he does. He wants to know what Ephemera will do with him, to him, for him. What he's ready for and what they still need to be careful about. He just... wants.

His own fingertips dig into the muscle of the other man's back -- gently, always gently -- and he desperately wants their shirts gone. Wants to trail his mouth down Ephemera's body, but knows they have to go slow and careful. So he kisses his throat again instead, teeth dragging slightly against soft, warm skin. ]

[ The lingering edge of the hangover pulses in Ephemera’s skull but he lets it go. Dismisses it as unimportant. How could it possibly matter, when Drake touches him like this? When he presses his fingers against Ephemera’s back, when he drags his mouth down Ephemera’s neck and there’s no lingering fear - not even for a second - that Drake will take the obvious opening like an enemy and tear Ephemera’s threat out with his teeth.

It’s not like that with them. It never was.

Ephemera shivers, then makes a choice. He shifts, putting his hand on Drake’s arm, and rolls them. Gets on top of him, peering down at Drake.

Fuck.

Then, hoarsely: ]

You look good like that.

[ Hurting Ephemera is the last thing Drake would ever want to do. And he's said as much to others but it was never necessary with them. He let his actions speak with Ephemera, and it's a reward that the other man isn't afraid of him. That they can do this, now.

Ephemera rolls him onto his back and climbs on top and there's a thrill in that, his eyes sparkling with anticipation when Ephemera climbs on top of him. Compliments him, his voice rough from arousal and that's fucking hot. Drake grins, then reclaims his hands and squirms just enough to yank his shirt up, lifting his shoulders to pull it off and dropping back to the pillows. The fabric lands with a soft rustle off the side of the bed. ]

Better?

[ There's no pressure for Ephemera to follow suit, just an invitation to touch as he takes the other man's hand and presses it over his heart again. So he can feel the way it's pounding in his chest. ]

Yeah.

[ Drake smiles up at him and Ephemera shivers again, leaning in so he can feel it properly. Drake's heart is pounding.

So is his, Ephemera thinks, and swallows hard. Shit. He stays there for a moment, just breathing and feeling the press of Drake's heartbeat against his palm, and then he shakes himself. And shrugs his own shirt off, pulling it over his head and letting it fall. ]

Edited 2021-10-04 01:50 (UTC)

[ Oh. It's a view he's seen plenty, but not like this. Not intimately like this, when there's a clear invitation for him to touch. Drake bites his lip, lifting both hands. One cups Ephemera's cheek, the other settles on his ribs just to get the other man used to being touched like this. It's okay. It's safe. And he's always thought Ephemera was gorgeous, scars and all. The marks of a survivor.

He slides his hand slowly around to Ephemera's front, touch trailing up to play across his chest. Breaking new ground. ]

You okay?

[ Ephemera closes his good eye, leaning into the touch. He breathes out slow. It's okay, he thinks. And if he shivers when Drake trails his other hand across Ephemera's chest, he thinks maybe that's okay too.

It's just - new. It doesn't hurt.

He nods slowly, his good eye still closed. ]

Go slow.

I can do that.

[ He keeps his hand moving, a caress just firm enough not to tickle. Not following the path of tattoos or scars, but his muscles. Dragging his fingertips down Ephemera's abs and then back up, slow and thorough. Just getting him used to being touched again. He waits until Ephemera's breathing has evened out a bit, only then daring to brush his thumb over a nipple experimentally. ]

[ Most people trace out his tattoos when they touch him, or his scars. Somehow, this feels - easier. Ephemera shivers again, breathing out through his mouth. Letting it settle. Letting himself get used to the sensation. He sighs when Drake touches his chest. Lightly, carefully, but -

It feels good. Not so fraught, this time.

Ephemera cracks his good eye, peering down at Drake. Then he leans in and kisses him. Thoroughly. ]

[ Drake did that intentionally -- not calling attention to the marks on his skin, just touching him. Taking a note from the massage from earlier and following the lines of his body, just wanting to make him feel good. It seems to be working, he thinks, Ephemera shivering and sighing above him but not pulling back.

He's about to check in again when Ephemera opens his eyes, but before he can he's being kissed. Deep and thorough, and it's all Drake can do to kiss back. And keep touching. The hand trapped between them on Ephemera's chest gets a little bolder, rolling that nipple between his fingertips until it peaks and then sliding away, not wanting it to be too much. His other hand winds up low on Ephemera's back, holding him close. Skin to skin, and he can't help squirming a little. Arching up as their tongues tangle and there's more of the other man's weight on him.

It's important, he thinks, that Ephemera stays in control here. But fuck. He wants to roll them over and just worship him for awhile, show him how good it can be. Patience, Drake reminds himself. No matter how the kissing is getting him hot and bothered, they can take it slow. ]

[ It hasn’t been like this for a long time. Ephemera’s made quota every month, even with the moments where it got tense and down to the wire. But that was necessity more often than not, something that left him anxious and tense throughout. More than once, he just felt -

Lost.

It doesn’t feel like that now. It’s good, his breath coming quicker as Drake kisses him back. Touches him. And maybe for the first time, Ephemera doesn’t have the urge to hide his face in Drake’s shoulder. He’s hard. Wanting.

So is Drake. Fuck.

Ephemera draws back so he can press their foreheads together, rocking down against Drake with a low sigh. It feels good. It doesn’t always, with other people. But this - ?

This is good. He drags his hand down Drake’s chest. Feeling it out, following the lines of muscle. Like Drake did for him. ]

Want to make you feel good.

[ Drake gasps as Ephemera rocks into him, holding on like everything will stop if he lets go. Easy, he reminds himself. Slow. ]

Mm... you always do.

[ But this is different and they both know it. This feels like something mutual, like something Ephemera's enjoying too rather than just bearing for his sake, or for quota. Drake arches into his touch, his breath trembling like his stomach beneath Ephemera's fingers. ]

What else do you want?

[ He rests his hands on Drake's stomach, smoothing circles with his thumbs. Wanting to feel this, all of it. Memorize it. ]

Make you come.

[ There's a part of him that wants to fuck Drake right here, right now. On this bed they've shared so many times. It'd feel good, he thinks. All of this has. But maybe that's too much right now, he isn't sure. This, though?

This is good. ]

[ Drake smiles at that, reaching up to mold his hand to Ephemera's jaw, thumb stroking his cheek. There's no censure in his voice, as this certainly isn't an objection -- he's on board with that -- it's just not exactly what he was asking. ]

I meant for you, babe.

[ There's a question in his eyes as well. Is this still okay? ]

[ Oh. Ephemera hesitates, unsure again. He's better, he thinks, when he can focus on other people. But that's not entirely fair, is it?

He leans into the touch, breathing out. ]

I don't know. But I want - this. With you.

[ It's alright -- he doesn't need to know exactly what he wants, it just felt worth asking. Drake gives a contented hum and leans up, catching Ephemera's mouth again. It's soft and playful, and he murmurs against the other man's lips. ]

You've got me. Just do what feels right.

[ His other hand, the one not on Ephemera's face, is stroking down his side. Telegraphing its journey to Ephemera's waistband, which he tugs at gently. He'd like to lose their pants, but are they there yet? ]

[ Ephemera presses into the kiss, his good eye sliding closed. For a moment, he just lets himself feel. Lets himself shiver as Drake's hand presses down his side. Tugs at his waistband.

For a moment, he just holds there. Breathing out slow.

Then he nods. Softly: ]

Yeah.

[ Then, a little firmer: ]

Yeah.

[ Okay. They're there, apparently. Drake slides his fingertips in, across Ephemera's stomach. ]

Stay up here with me.

[ He's gonna do this as slow as everything else. One-handed he unfastens the other man's pants and slides the zipper down, then does his own, sighing as the pressure eases. No move to pull them down just yet, but he traces the shape of Ephemera's erection through his underwear -- more a caress than a proper stroke, just getting him used to the idea. ]

[ This used to be easy once. Just a thing he did with people. He liked it, figuring out how to move with them. What made a partner smile, what made them feel good. Not quite a game, but something light-hearted. Something they could do together. And he and Drake are doing this together.

Ephemera shivers, his breath hitching. Rocking into the touch. It's light. He thinks that helps. ]

What do you want?

[ He swallows hard, cracking his good eye. ]

Tell me?

[ Drake hesitates. He's not picky. All he wants is something mutual, and he doesn't want to go too big and make Ephemera skittish of this. Or too small, and make it seem like he doesn't think the other man can handle something more.

But then Ephemera opens his eyes and asks Drake to tell him, so... ]

...I want you to ride me. So I can see you, touch you.

[ He keeps up the gentle touches, quickly following up with, ]

We don't have to. Or you could fuck me.

[ Ephemera's breath catches. And there's no hiding the way he rocks as Drake says it. I want you to ride me. And suddenly he wants that, too. Wants to hold Drake and feel it, all of it.

He shivers. ]

Yeah.

[ Fuck. Fuck, but he wants it. ]

We - we can do that.

[ Ephemera rocks into his touch and agrees, and Drake smiles, palming him properly. Giving him something to press against, squeezing just slightly. ]

Yeah?

[ He leans up just slightly for another kiss, nuzzling their noses when it breaks. ]

Okay.

Fu - ck.

[ It comes out small, Ephemera's breath catching as Drake squeezes him just enough to feel. To want more. He rocks into it, biting his lip.

Fuck. He leans into it, closing his good eye again. Pressed cheek to cheek with Drake. ]

Feels good.

[ Fuck is right, Drake thinks, that's hot. Then laughs at himself, and there's subdued delight in his voice when he replies, voice low and soft since he's already speaking right into Ephemera's ear. ]

Lose the pants and I'll do you one better.

[ Ephemera huffs a little, smiling. He missed this, he thinks. Being able to laugh during sex, even if it's just softly. How it feels to be held and not flinch. ]

Means I have to get off you. I'm not that flexible.

[ He breathes out, pressing his forehead to Drake's. ]

Okay.

[ And then he does, regretfully. Just long enough to loose his pants, and his underwear. ]

[ Drake takes the opportunity to shed the rest of his own clothes as well, kicking his pants over the edge of the bed carelessly. And then he's reaching for Ephemera again, though he doesn't encourage the other man to get back on top of him. Not yet. ]

You mind being on your back for a hot minute?

[ He has ideas. ]

[ Ephemera leans in, taking the opportunity to kiss Drake. First on the mouth, then the cheek. Gently.

It feels important, to be gentle right now. ]

Nah.

[ He shifts, cupping Drake's cheek in his hand. ]

I can do that.

[ Drake smiles at him, leaning into the touch and then in for another kiss, pressing Ephemera onto his back just as gently. One hand comes up and reaches into the nightstand, the objects inside rustling softly as he finds what he's looking for. ]

Just relax.

[ It's slow. Drake eases him onto his back and Ephemera goes willingly, running a hand through his hair. He breathes out slow, shivering a little in anticipation, and then reaches out to trail his fingers over Drake's arm. Wanting to touch him, to hold him. ]

[ There's a pleased little hum at the touch, as Drake shifts so that he's between Ephemera's legs and holding himself up on one arm. His other hand flicks the tube open with a telltale 'click.' ]

You want me to stay up here?

[ It's been a long time since he's done this. Years. Ephemera breathes out, watching Drake. His good eye half-lidded. ]

Yeah. So I know where you are.

[ Drake had a feeling that'd be the case. He smiles, leaning down and kissing Ephemera again, soft and sweet. Something he never gets tired of... but there's another task at hand now. ]

Bend your leg up.

[ And then his hand is slipping between them, slick fingers trailing down between Ephemera's legs, searching. And then gently, as gently as he can manage, one presses in. Drake watches his face, wanting to be sure it's still okay. ]

[ He does what he's told, nodding slowly. Watching Drake the whole time. It's slow. That helps, he thinks. Ephemera breathes out, tipping his head back. Getting used to the sensation. It's been a long time but he remembers it. Remembers how it feels like a lot at first, but then it gets easier. And then it gets good.

He nods again. Reaches a hand down to touch himself idly, and smiles a little. ]

Yeah.

[ He can tell when that shift happens. When it gets good, even before Ephemera reaches down to touch himself. Drake doesn't stop him -- he could've done one better if not for having to stay up here, but it's more important that they can see each other. That he can see Ephemera's smile when he adjusts, and that the other man has control even on his back.

Drake stays where he is and adds another finger, gently curling them inside, searching. Considering whether or not it'd be okay to lean down and kiss Ephemera's neck, with how his head's tipped back. ]

[ It's all a matter of angles, in the end. Ephemera breathes out, letting himself get used to it. Watching Drake the whole while. And then Drake curls his fingers up, and -

Oh.

Ephemera's breath catches. He swallows hard. Feels his toes curl.

Yeah. Yeah, okay. He remembers that now. ]

[ Fuck, that's hot. The little hitch in his breath and the way Ephemera shifts against him, the way his throat works. Drake watches, grinning, keeping the pace slow and steady. Don't get excited, don't rush it.

He lowers himself a bit closer, spreading his fingers and feeling the resistance then give of the other man's body. ]

Still good?

[ It just builds, doesn't it? Ephemera groans, his hips rocking. Slow, though. In time with Drake's fingers, in time with the easy way he jerks himself off. Slow, so he'll feel all of it.

His toes curl. He can feel the pressure building in strange places. In the very center of his palms as Drake works him. As his body adjusts. It's been a long time but oh, he remembers it now. That drag. And he's tight, but it eases, and Drake works him slow, and steady, and it just -

Builds.

He squeezes his cock. And he watches Drake, swallowing hard. ]

Been, ah - been a long time since I've done this.

[ He shivers a little. ]

'm glad it's with you.

[ Ephemera's hips rock down against his hand and Drake curls his fingers again, maintaining eye contact as he does. It's intense even though he's not being touched -- the way Ephemera groans, the way he moves -- and he bites his lip for focus. He can feel his heart pounding, heat building between them. ]

Me too.

[ I love you, he thinks, shifting a little, his own hard on brushing against Ephemera's hip and making him shiver too. And he'd be happy with just this, honestly, but-- ]

Don't come yet.

[ Ephemera makes a small sound, watching Drake all the while. Rocking into the touch. Feeling it fill him up. Stretch him open. And he wants so much, now.

He takes his hand off his cock. Nods jerkily. ]

I won't.

[ No. Not yet. ]

[ It feels like Ephemera's just about prepared, but Drake wants to be sure. To distract them both he gives in to the urge for another kiss, this one far more heated than when this began. It drags on until he needs to breathe, at which point he pushes himself back up and lets his fingers slip free. ]

You feel ready?

[ Ephemera closes his good eye, pressing his forehead to Drake's. Just breathing with him for a moment. Centering himself. He aches already. He can feel it everywhere, not just inside. ]

Yeah.

[ He breathes out, shivering a little. ]

Yeah.

[ He stays close, his weight over Ephemera for a little longer, letting him find his center. There's no rush, they have all the time in the world -- his hard on certainly isn't going anywhere. Even if Ephemera needed to call it quits right now, Drake would be happy. He went into this with no expectations.

But the other man doesn't call it quits. He shivers under Drake appealingly and gives that soft affirmation, and Drake finds his hand where it rests on the mattress with his clean one and squeezes. Keeps hold of it as he shifts off Ephemera and rolls onto his back. ]

Okay. C'mere.

[ He watches Ephemera, free hand finally going to his own erection. Just long enough to make sure he's slick. His breath catches as he lets go and he waits, exposed, trusting. ]

[ It's been a long time since he's done this. Ephemera takes a shuddering breath and then lets it out, opening his good eye. It helps that it's with Drake, he thinks. That it's with someone he's trusted since the start.

He shifts, then climbs on top of Drake. Settling over him with an exhale, running his hands down Drake's chest. Feeling him out. Steadying himself.

Breathe. It's okay. ]

Yeah?

[ Drake gives a low hum of pleasure at the touch, nodding. Reaching back and settling his hands on Ephemera's thighs, holding him steady. ]

Take your time.

[ It's okay. It's just him. Nothing to worry about here. ]

[ Ephemera breathes out slow, watching Drake. Then he shifts, reaching behind him to guide Drake's cock into place. It's simple, isn't it? He's done this before, but not for a long time.

Breathe out. And sink down.

He does. ]

[ It's a close thing that Drake doesn't squirm at the touch as Ephemera lines him up, and he bites his lip in anticipation of having to hold still. But it happens quickly. Ephemera breathes out and lowers himself into Drake's lap -- he gasps sharply and grips the other man's thighs before he catches himself.

Don't move. Let him adjust.

He breathes out on a sigh, cataloguing it all. Making a memory. The vice heat of Ephemera's body and the sight of the other man above him as he settles there, weight pinning Drake to the bed. It's going to be on Ephemera to set the pace he likes and Drake will meet it -- he slides his hands inward, then up Ephemera's torso. Not touching him just yet, not sure if he's ready for it. ]

You okay?

[ He goes slow. Sinks down inch by inch, tells himself to breathe. To let it happen, to relax. It's a lot, the drag of it pulsing through the whole of him, but oh, fuck.

Fuck, it feels good. He makes a small sound, tipping his head back. Swallowing hard. ]

Ah - just. Just give me a -

[ Just give him a moment to get used to it. He smooths his hands down Drake's chest, shivering. ]

[ Drake nods slightly, breath caught in his throat at the feeling as if that'll help him keep still. This isn't something to rush at... Ephemera can have as much time as he needs and Drake will just enjoy the view. The way Ephemera's muscles work as he lowers himself, the expression on his face.

One hand settles over one of Ephemera's on his chest, catching it and pressing so the other man can feel his heartbeat -- steady but racing with excitement. ]

You feel amazing.

[ It's a soft, breathless encouragement as the moment draws out. ]

[ Ephemera blows his head, focusing on the feel of Drake's heartbeat against his palm. He relaxes by margins. Slows his breathing down so he can just feel. ]

's good.

[ His voice comes out hoarse. And then, finally, he's got all of Drake inside of him. ]

Fuck, Drake -

[ It feels good. It's a lot, but it feels good. ]

so
funny story

yeah? I'm all ears
or eyes in this case I guess

ive been shit at quota lately
been a little busy with other shit
you busy?

well you had a lot of shit going on last time I saw you
come on by

ive always got a lot of shit going on

but good to know youre down with getting booty called
;) ;)

see you in 10

you can catch me up at some point
but yeah I'm pretty much always down
you're just now figuring that out?

wasnt that concerned with your horny meter tbh
is terrence around

and yet you just booty called
yeah he's painting

wasnt is past tense
ask him if he wants to join in

hah
sure thing, just a minute

[ And he's going and knocking on Ephemera's doorframe, still holding his phone and grinning slightly in amusement. ]

Hey. I've got two questions for you.

[ Ephemera tips his head back, dipping his brush into water. He’s working on a canvas today instead of the wall. A change, but maybe a welcome one. And he’s got an eyepatch in instead of the prosthetic. It’s been itching again.

He smiles. Just a little. ]

Sure. Hit me.

[ Drake is curious about the painting, as always, but he doesn't step into Ephemera's space without invitation. Just leans in the doorway, smiling back. ]

What're you feeling for dinner tonight? And would you be interested in a threesome with Sam?

[ He gives the phone a little wiggle to show that's who he's been talking to. ]

He's coming by for help with quota.

[ His newest painting is an experiment more than anything else, a play of brighter colors over a dark background. Like an oil spill, or the way a planet shines in sunlight after a glassing. He's been playing around with texture, making the brush strokes heavy enough to touch in the aftermath. He's not certain it works, not entirely, but it feels good to try new things.

He lowers the brush, blinking several times. ]

...huh.

[ Okay. That's sure a thing that's been asked. ]

Never done that before. Maybe?

[ Smooth. So smooth. ]

No pressure, but he said to invite you.

[ Drake's smile turns lopsided. ]

Maybe he still thinks I'm suspicious and you being there would make him more comfortable.

[ He's never had sex with Sam in private, which is kind of weird to think about, but there it is. Drake gestures into the room, at the canvas. ]

Can I come in?

[ Ephemera runs a hand through his hair. He likes Sam. Trusts him - one of the few people in this city that he does. A rare thing, that. ]

Yeah. Come in.

[ He smiles a little, or tries to. ]

I've never. Done anything like that. With anyone.

[ Drake pushes off the doorframe and steps forward, coming to a stop beside Ephemera. He wanted to look at the canvas, yes, but also offer some physical comfort and reassurance -- he loops an arm around the other man's waist, giving a gentle tug. Lean on him. ]

That's okay. Are you intrigued by it, or freaked out?

[ Ephemera hesitates a moment, then shifts to press against Drake. He loops an arm around him and just breathes.

You're fine, he tells himself. So chill. ]

Both? Sorry.

[ That's not a helpful answer, is it? ]

No apologies necessary.

[ He turns his head from where he was admiring the painting and bumps their foreheads together, focus more on Ephemera now. ]

You can try it out, or just watch and see how you feel, or we close all the doors and you just paint like nothing's happening. What you want for dinner's the bigger commitment here, promise.

Edited 2021-11-14 22:20 (UTC)

[ He closes his good eye and just presses against Drake for a moment. He keeps expecting things to go sharp and they never do, with Drake. ]

I can try. I'd like that, I think.

And noodles. For dinner.

[ If it's going to happen, it won't be over something like this. Drake rubs his hand up Ephemera's back, letting the decision settle. ]

I like the sound of both those choices. You want to warm up a--

[ But then there's a knocking. Sam's knock, Drake recognizes it by now. He laughs softly, stealing a kiss from Ephemera before pulling away. ]

Come on.

[ Well damn. Apparently this is happening now. Ephemera huffs a little, running a hand through his hair and only realizing a moment later he's got paint on it.

Oh, well. He bumps his arm against Drake's, then moves to follow him. ]

Hey, Sam.

( listen, sometimes--one just has to invite themselves over to someone else's place and find a good excuse to do so. and this seemed reasonable. he told drake ten minutes, and it's a little closer to 15 before he's rapping his knuckles against the door frame and leaning back on his heels, a hand shoved down into his pocket while he waits until drake opens the door. )

Yo. ( light and easy, as he offers them both a grin and lets himself into the apartment. gestures back towards ephemera once he's passed him to get inside. )

You've got shit in your hair.

[ Drake still doesn't get the whole 'needing an excuse' thing... he's told Sam over and over again he can come by whenever, and yet. It's fine, though. Whatever makes him comfortable.

He closes the door behind Sam and turns back to the other men, glancing to Ephemera's hair at the comment. ]

It's just paint. [ And he sets an encouraging hand on Ephemera's lower back -- any excuse to touch him, honestly. ] You want a drink, Sam?

Ah, yeah. I was painting.

[ Obviously. And now Sam's here and this is happening. Apparently. Ephemera shifts a little, then reminds himself to settle. He knows Drake and Sam. Trusts them. Has slept with both of them. This is just more of that, right?

He watches them both curiously, wondering how this is all going to play out. ]

Cute.

( with a step in towards ephemera, raising a hand up towards his hair to pinch the few strands between his index finger and thumb, pulling off as much paint as he can. careful to coordinate the movement, because he doesn't want to overstress him any.

grins at him, before he's looking over to drake for a moment. )

Nah. I'm good. ( then, back to ephemera. ) Drake ask you?

[ Drake smiles at the gesture, but since the question is addressed to Ephemera he just stands by for solidarity and lets the other man answer. Still in contact with the hand on his back, thumb rubbing gently at the rise of muscle beside his spine. ]

[ Ephemera stills, uncertain, but Sam just works the paint out of his hair. It doesn't even pinch. And he's close, but he telegraphs and doesn't come up in Ephemera's blindspot.

It's fine. He knows them. Trusts them.

Some of the tension bleeds out. His shoulders relax. And he smiles a little. ]

Yeah. Sounded like fun.

You wanna take helm?

( let ephemera lead, because he's the one who might find himself getting a little too overwhelmed. he can pull the brakes when he feels like he needs a breather.

eyes move back up to drake, a stupid smarmy grin playing at the corners of his lips. when he talks, he's still talking to ephemera, even if the question involves drake specifically, )

Or do you want to hand it over to Drake?

[ Grin aside, Sam is winning many many points for how he's handling things right now. Seems like either he's got experience with touch shy people or he's just really perceptive -- could be both. Drake nods almost imperceptibly in approval and waits for Ephemera's answer. He's fine no matter who's leading and as usual Ephemera being comfortable with things is his priority. Maybe it'll help that there are three of them? He and Sam can focus on each other when Ephemera needs a break and it might be easier to jump back in. ]

[ Indecision freezes him for a moment. He's never done anything like this before. Not with two people. But he knows them, both of them. The trust has been there for a while now. The city fucks people over on the regular, but not these men.

No. He knows them. And that makes it simpler, if not entirely easy.

Ephemera breathes out, shifting so he can bump his head against Drake's. ]

You lead.

[ He meets Sam's eyes, curious now. Wondering how it'll go. ]

Okay?

Yup.

( wouldn't have offered if he wasn't down with it. this isn't the first time sam's--fucked around with multiple people. hell, not even the first time he's played third. drake is still a little shady, but sam figures if he'd wanted to fuck him over, he would have done it already.

sam pulls off his jacket with a roll of his shoulders, moves to throw it over the back of the couch. )

Bedroom?

[ Okay. Drake smiles softly, taking a moment while Sam takes his jacket off to tilt his head up and kiss Ephemera's forehead. The trust still gets him every time. ]

This one.

[ He leads the way to the master bedroom, where Sam somehow hasn't been yet -- the walls are partially painted and there are a confusing number of pillows on one side of the bed. Drake pulls a few off to make space, then tugs his shirt over his head and glances back. ]

C'mere, Sam.

[ And Ephemera gets eye contact, Drake's head tipping towards their friend. ]

Help me strip him.

I'll ask Mr. Morgan to bring you an extra heater. Please don't respond to this message, I will not read it.

I hope you do, because I don't think you meant to send this to me. But if the heater is for somebody stuck in the Down I've got crash space.

[ he did read the reply. of course he did. but it's not at all what he was expecting. ]

Who is this?

My name's Drake. Who's this?

I'm Victor.

I'm sorry, that message was meant for someone else. And they're not in the Down, so there's no need to worry.

It's cool, just wanted to offer help if I could. Might as well put my dom status to good use, right?

You'd help even though you don't even know who I was talking about?

Yeah.

But if you wanna tell me that's stupid or suspicious or whatever, save it. I've heard it all before.

I'm not surprised by that, but it's not fair that you've been judged so harshly. This place could use more men like you.

Especially as Dominants.

[ --wait, what? This isn't how these conversations usually go for him. Drake blinks at his phone and then realizes the irony here: he's the one thrown off by someone being nice now. ]

Thank you. Obviously everybody's got their reasons... it's just worth the risk to me, you know?

How long have you been here, Victor?

I trust you can also stand up yourself.

[ he'd be much nicer to strangers too if he didn't have to worry about them overpowering himself. ]

Almost a year now. I don't think I've ever ran to you before. Not even on the network.

It kinda depends. Yeah, I can fight. But the trick's not needing to in the first place.

Probably not, I've never posted and don't really use it much publicly... old habits. Might have something to talk about soon, though.

And what is that? If I may ask.

There's a charity I was donating to in the down that closed its doors when the owner left. I'd like to get it running again, but that'll take more help than I've got.

So you're looking to hire.

And beg. With as much dignity as I can manage.

Well, I hope it won't come down to that. What kind of a charity is it?

[ Ephemera leans against the door to Drake’s bedroom, hefting a small cardboard box. Stuffed full of stuff. Good stuff, too. ]

So. Think I freaked somebody out when I was talking about home.

[ Drake glances up from folding their laundry, tilting his head in confusion and abandoning the chore to see what's in the box. Immediately upon surveying the contents he gets it -- someone was indeed trying very hard with this, and also paying pretty close attention. The items are incredibly thoughtful. Giving a low impressed whistle he reaches in to check the note. ]

If you hadn't opened with that I would've asked who's trying to woo you away. But they didn't even put their name...

[ He glances back up to study Ephemera's expression and finds that it matches the slightly bewildered tone of voice he'd approached with, and Drake's softens in response. ]

You okay? Come sit with me.

Pretty sure I know who it is.

[ Given the contents, and the things he and Kazu talked about.

Ephemera touches his knuckles to his mouth, then sighs and moves to sit next to Drake. ]

Do I talk about fucked up things too much?

[ That's good to know, but Drake doesn't ask -- he doesn't actually feel threatened or anything. It would have just been teasing and curiosity if he'd caught Ephemera opening a present without context. With it? He's going to hold off on the jokes for now while they sort through whatever feelings this has churned up.

And given how much there is to unpack in the phrasing of that question, they do need to talk about this. ]

No, babe. It'd help to know how this conversation went, but no. You talk about your life, and that's not something you need to censor for anybody else's benefit... especially since I can't remember you ever bringing shit up out of context. That matters.

[ He reaches over and takes the box, setting it aside so he can wrap an arm around Ephemera and tug him in to lean. ]

What do you think freaked them out?

[ Drake’s solid and warm, and Ephemera leans against him easily. Takes a slow breath to steady himself and then let’s it go. He settles, in small ways. For all that he struggles with touching other people, it feels easy now with Drake. A comfort.

They’re in this together. They have been for a while now. ]

We were talking about the war. His, mine. The combat. Dying in it.

[ It felt casual in the moment. Just a thing that happened. Now, he wonders. ]

I told him about glassing. Planet killers.

Edited 2022-03-07 17:01 (UTC)

[ Drake takes Ephemera's weight easily, warm affection rising up at how he can feel the contact relaxing his partner a bit. And so with a little kiss to the side of Ephemera's head, he settles in to listen.

It's pretty much what he expected, not the specifics necessarily but the fact that the 'fucked up things' Ephemera's worried about mentioning came up because they were relevant. He hums thoughtfully. Going off the note he'd guess it was something more personal, but the fact is he has no way to know for sure what set this person off, and that's actually a good point to bring up. ]

Okay, I'm guessing this isn't someone you know very well yet? I doubt it was planet killers that have him worrying so much about making you feel better, but like... you can't expect yourself to be psychic about what might hit a stranger's buttons. Only learn from their responses and the experiences they share and keep that in mind going forward.

You were talking about warfare. Commiserating, probably?

Edited 2022-03-07 18:13 (UTC)

No. Not well.

[ Maybe he will, eventually. He likes Kazu well enough. Maybe there’s always going to be a part of him that gravitates toward soldiers, seeking that quiet understanding. The unspoken part.

Ephemera closes his good eye. ]

He had a bad war. Like mine, in some ways. Different scale, but -

Similar.

So there was no reason for you to assume that anything you shared was going to freak him out. It's an upsetting subject, yeah, but you both went into it with the understanding of what might come up. You wouldn't drop this kind of shit at random, or on somebody who you knew it would upset. You're better at reading people than you think you are.

[ It's especially hard with new people, Drake knows. Especially for someone like Ephemera who's so used to being surrounded by other soldiers with the same experiences. Meeting a soldier from another world is different, it's unlikely their war will match up. And that's how things like this happen. ]

I don't know what made him send this, but it reflects more on him than you, I think. Takes a certain kind of person to put together something like this for someone they don't really know... maybe he wasn't freaked at all, just empathetic and wanted to help 'cuz he's been there? You won't know until you talk again.

[ It helps, he thinks, that Drake takes the time to play it out. That he considers it from Kazu's perspective without ever having met Kazu. But there's something about Drake that gives him a talent for that. For slowing down and taking the wider perspective when Ephemera feels like he zeros in too much on the small details.

He exhales. ]

No. Guess I won't.

[ He's trying to come at it from both sides -- soothe Ephemera's insecurities about sharing his experience and consider where the new guy was coming from sending the gift. Which he's glancing back over at now, smiling faintly. ]

You're gonna, right? Talk to him again?

He even knew the right kind of paint to get for your armor.

Yeah. When I can figure out what to say.

[ Ephemera shifts, watching Drake for a moment. ]

I feel like I'm - bad at this, sometimes. Talking with people. Not knowing when to stop with the details. People get upset sometimes and I don't - know why. Or at least until I slow down to pull it apart, you know?

I can help if you want.

[ He looks back at Ephemera, expression soft and fond as he listens. ]

...you're not bad at it. You're learning, and it's gonna feel like there are ups and downs to it because there's reading people in general but everyone's a little different too. It matters that you do slow down to pull it apart, but it's not all on you, either. You know that, right? If somebody's upset and you're not sure why, you can ask them. To me that shows more respect than guessing anyway.

[ He sits with that for a moment, just watching Drake. Sometimes it feels like this is some skill that other people figured out a long time ago, that maybe it's too late for him to pick up because he got stuck on other things or maybe sacrificed it along the way. Gave it up in the war, then cut out more in the aftermath. But then sometimes, when he's with Drake or some of his friend, sometimes -

Sometimes, it feels like he could get it back. Not quite like he used to, but -

There's a chance. Isn't there?

Ephemera exhales slowly. ]

You're good at this, you know?

[ Huh? Drake's head tilts slightly, curious. What's 'this' right now? If it's soothing Ephemera's nerves he'd agree, but he's also had a lot of practice at that. He reaches up with his free hand and gently brushes a lock of dark hair out of the other man's face. ]

Not sure what you're getting at, babe.

[ It's a gentle touch, and familiar. Funny thing is, even when he couldn't stand to be touched, Ephemera trusted this man.

Ephemera shifts so he can lean against Drake, closing his good eye. ]

Just. You know people. Or maybe you just know me.

A little of column a... and a lot of column b.

[ There's a good humor in his voice even if Ephemera doesn't look up to see his smile. ]

I wish I could offer you a shortcut, but there's no cheat sheet for people. You've just gotta pay attention, be willing to listen and communicate, and stay genuine. I did mean it when I said you're better at reading people than you think -- the wider the variety of people you get to know, the easier it'll become.

[ And then, a bit sheepishly, ]

I hope I always know you best, though.

Mhmm.

[ Ephemera thinks he knew that, on some level. That it's about paying attention o people, listening to them. Noting the cues they give off. It's not the same as being out in armor all the time. At least then, Ephemera knew how to read everyone around him.

No. He knew how to do threat assessments. It's not the same here. That's better, he thinks.

Ephemera shifts again, resting his head on Drake's shoulder. ]

Think you will. Think you always have.

Always, huh?

[ It's not that hard to understand, really. There are a lot of reasons why Ephemera might feel a little behind the curve. Limited socialization outside of his team, everyone in armor all the time, the fact that he pretty much only ever interacted with soldiers, be they friend or foe... it's hard enough for people returning to civilian life in their own worlds, let alone winding up in a different one entirely. All that considered?

Drake turns toward Ephemera, pressing a kiss to his forehead. ]

I think you're doing great, and I'm obviously not the only one. Maybe I've gotta step up my game...

[ It’s such a small gesture, but it’s tender and Ephemera feels something warm and welcome spread through his chest. Funny thing is, no matter how twisted up he feels around other people, Drake’s always there on the other side. Waiting for him.

He huffs a little, cracking his good eye at Drake. ]

His name’s Kazu. Think you’d like him.

[ Maybe Ephemera’s made a friend. That’d be nice. ]

Thanks. For being here.

I can't like my competition!

[ Drake does his best to look offended, but it really doesn't work and dissolves into a broad grin very quickly. As if he isn't exactly the kind of guy to shake hands first and offer to buy an opponent who beat him a celebratory drink. The name sounds familiar, but he can't place it right this second. It'll come to him later. ]

Nah, I already like him for being good to you. And I'm always here. You feeling better?

[ Ephemera snorts, nudging Drake with his arm. Even if he were the type to get jealous - and Ephemera never has, doubts he ever will; something with how he's wired, maybe - he knows it wouldn't change things between them. This thing they have just is. Even with the city's bullshit exploding all around them, they're solid.

Somehow, they've built this. It's theirs. They have a dog now. ]

Yeah. Think I wind myself up, sometimes.

[ He gets anxious. Ties himself up in knots. ]

[ The nudge gets a soft laugh -- no, Drake's not worried about anything changing, at least not somebody being able to woo Ephemera away like he joked earlier. No matter what other connections they make, those will be different from what the two of them have together. Fill a different need, maybe. Not less real or important, just still not going to replace this. ]

Sometimes, but nobody's completely immune to that.

[ It wasn't too long ago that he nearly turned into a popsicle trying to sort through something on his own that he really only needed to open up about. He gives Ephemera a grateful little squeeze. ]

You came over and talked about it instead of letting it get overwhelming. Last year I dunno if you would have... I'm really proud of you.

Don’t think I could have last year.

[ Things were different then. He was different. And now -

Ephemera sighs, closing his good eye again. There aren’t many people he can relax like this around. ]

I’m trying to be more of a person. A full person.

[ It's far from the first time Drake's heard Ephemera say that -- that he's trying to be a person again. He never really understood what it meant to the other man, never asked him to try and define what the goal was. What criteria were missing. And he's not gonna do that now, just ask gently, ]

Does it feel like you're not there yet?

[ He doesn't answer right away. Just sits with it for a little bit, pressing against Drake. Matching his breathing. ]

Depends on the day.

[ There's no rush, Ephemera can take as long as he needs. Both to answer the question and to work on himself. Drake doesn't hold him to whatever metric he's got in his head, though. ]

Okay. Just know you always are to me, yeah?

[ Ephemera cracks his good eye, peering at him. Drake's always had a lot of faith in him. A lot of trust. Ephemera doesn't know if he's earned all of it.

He wants to, though. ]

I love you.

[ It comes out soft. ]

Just wanted to say it.

[ If anyone asked Drake, he'd say all of it was earned. Maybe he'd been a little generous in the beginning, but you could think of it as an advance. He'd seen someone worth believing in and despite the ups and downs he'd never felt like his faith was misplaced, or his trust broken. Ephemera had grown and healed and blossomed and was always, always there for him.

And now they're here. Things are different, but also they're not. He knows Ephemera, no matter what else changes, and loves him more than he thought he could love anyone.

Drake smiles at him warmly, reaching over to tilt his face up a little more. ]

Hope you're okay hearing it back. 'Cuz I love you, too.

[ He's also getting kissed now, slow and sweet. ]

[ It's a soft kiss, hauntingly gentle. Ephemera makes a small sound and presses into it, reaching up to put his hand over Drake's. Curling around his wrist, holding loosely. ]

I am. I really am.

[ How far they've come, Drake thinks to himself, a little thrill running through him at how Ephemera presses in. At the way he can feel the other man's words rumble between them, the grip on his wrist keeping him close. He turns his head a little more, ghosting his lips along the line of Ephemera's jaw up to his ear, voice a low murmur. ]

Let me show you?

[ Ephemera shivers a little, Drake’s words tickling through his ear. It’s a warm, welcome feeling. ]

…yeah. Show me.

Hey.

You owe me a drink. Still interested?

Extremely. I just rainchecked a little harder than I realized, sorry.

You feel like swinging by? I'm in 19-B, my partner's working tonight but I'm still off.

MEET ISAAC WESTON GATES, YOU TWO SHOULD TALK ABOUT VINCILAGNIA!

[ ......the fuck is that? He knows Isaac Gates is Felix from the fucklist shenanigans but he does have to look up vincilagnia.

Replying is poking the bear. Drake knows this. He's sure gonna reply anyway, still riding a little bit of a high from winning chicken on hot or not. ]

That doesn't mean what I expected it to, but sure. Let's talk about it.

( goddamnit, what the fuck. and his full name, too. talk about excessively uncomfortable overkill. )

i got you so fucking wrong, didn't i?

Depends. What was your assessment back when you wrote me off?

i already told you
toothless
no bite

you're soft but you still kick like a bitch going down

Oh just that?
I did warn you first time you said it you were wrong and you didn't believe me.

Are we gonna talk about your kink?

you that eager to fuck me again, drake?

One doesn't have to lead to the other.

you're right
i can always fuck you

There's at least one scenario where I wouldn't be opposed to that.

so you've considered it

( color him vaguely confused and horny. )

what's the scenario?
you on top, my hands where you can see them?
maybe in my lap?

Something like that. I don't think I'd leave your hands free.

human sexuality is a wild beast
after everything you know i've done, i should by all rights be a hard pass for you

You still don't get me, huh?
Should according to who?

lavernius tucker, for one

Folks with way more power than Tucker have ordered me to stay away from people before.
He didn't understand why I was with Ephemera, either.

understandable
ephemera tried to violently murder his redheaded bestie and her rampant ai
i assume he would've gone after wash after he finished icing carolina but
well
we all know how that went down
no love lost there either way

i've fucked over a lot more ppl than tucker, tho

I know all of that.
I doubt you can tell me anything about him I don't already know.
Even if you could none of it would change anything.

You wanna go off on how horrible you've been some more, go ahead.
Just don't think it's going to decide shit.

drake i'll be real i don't give a fuck what you do or don't know abt ephemera
i just like to hear myself talk
or type, in this instance
it's the boisterous extrovert in me
reminiscing on the good ol' halcyon days of yore
you're my captive audience

i may have got you wrong but YOU know what i am, is my point

Edited (clarity) 2022-03-12 05:20 (UTC)

I don't know everything you are.
Obviously.
So tell me about it, Felix.
You never did answer why you were so into being held down.

( of course. )

adrenaline dump
couldn't think beyond your dick inside me
you rly got me w that one-two punch of a good fuck and a nice face

I don't believe you.

( one abnormally long pause later: )

you really wanna go there?

I do, yeah.

ok
buckle in
i'm gonna tell you a story
based on true events, formatted to fit your screen and edited for content

imagine you're a man
not the kind of man you are now
different, a whole fuckton of issues wrapped in a suspiciously pretty package
all your life you've had to grind and sweat your balls off for everything you've ever owned
and you had to sweat twice as hard just to keep your hands on whatever you earned bc the only universe you know is a greedy fucking scavenger
you're charismatic, a people person, dangerously effective behind a rifle and knife, but no discipline
poor impulse control
mouthy
stubborn
reckless

all that shit you've been holding in wants to go everywhere all the time and you don't have the proper equipment to contain it
you're looking at an explosion worse than fucking chernobyl
20,000 years of non-stop radiation and you don't give a fuck what you take out in the process
but you can't let people touch it bc that shit is yours too, you own that
you worked for that rage

then one day a stranger comes along and he's the only person who sees you
the only person you let hold you down
fuck you
love you
contain you
body your rage without blinking even when you hate him for it and take a knife to his throat in the middle of breakfast

tldr: sometimes it feels
so
fucking
good
to let go

so thanks for the orgasm

[ Finally some fucking honesty. Drake reads it all twice, and he thinks he gets it. Not that he's ever been like Felix, not exactly, but some of it has an intimately familiar ring and the rest... yeah. He's certainly known the type, and he wonders. What if they'd gotten what they needed? What if what they needed had been something he'd been able to give?

Is that the case now?

He's insane, Drake, and Drake knows. He'll stick a knife in you and walk over your dying corpse, yes, that's a risk, but he's had worse, and better him than Ephemera. He's obsessed with Ephemera, and there's probably no changing that, just bearing some of the weight.

Maybe.

He remembers Felix writhing beneath him, trapped and helpless and loving it, head thrown back in pleasure. None of the usual violence in his eyes or simmering rage in his voice as he begs for more. Still dangerous, his entire being like the blade of a knife where one turn can take things from smooth to sharp. But in that moment...

Yeah. Maybe. It could be he was just coming at Felix from the wrong angle from the start.

God help him, Drake wants to find out. ]

You want more of that, you know where to find me.
You can have a safe word.
You'll always get off.
Everything else you get to find out along the way.

MEET SAMIL, YOU TWO SHOULD TALK ABOUT THROATFUCKING!

...should we, though?

Hey Sam. City's doing a thing.

at this point ive gotten used to it

ive let people do it to me before
it was fun

In that case we can, then. It's just the sort of thing that can go very wrong very quickly, and yes I am speaking from experience.

What makes it fun?

i dont die that easily so even if did go wrong it wouldnt really hurt me

unless you're talking about dick biting
promise i won't?

giving someone else lead
making them feel good and getting them off
being able to focus on just their pleasure no background distractions

Wow you jumped right to death. I just meant the time I got puked on by somebody who overestimated what they could handle.

Sounds right up my alley, honestly.

i know how to work around my gag reflex
what about you

I'd say it's more something I'm mindful of? I can work around it to deepthroat but I've never pushed it to the point of throatfucking.

Seems like it'd take some practice.

you get used to it
i could show you ;)

That's a generous offer considering the risks.
Sure.
You'd be a good training dick, now that I think about it.
Like if I can handle yours...

see?
it'll be fun ;)

Promise you'll be patient?

maybe
or maybe i'll just make fun of you for sucking
(get it? sucking)

sooooo

i may be kinda beat up rn

and literally everyone i know is gonna judge my ass and i mean
it’s absolutely fucking earned but i’d rather like
deal w/ YOU judging me
than my girlfriend or best friend rn

[ Blunt as ever, South. At least she’s up front about her reasoning here? ]

aka do you have a first aid kit

[ ...what did you do, South?! That you're so upfront that it's earned and Drake is gonna judge?

If she also fucked Felix he might have an aneurysm...

The reply comes quickly, at least. ]

do you have any idea how much it takes for me to get judgey?
cuz if you do and you're still saying that I'm really concerned
about what the fuck happened

of course I have a first aid kit

are you home?

i mean i kinda got the sense when you literally helped me after finding out i basically killed my brother so
look
i'll explain when you're down here alright

yes i'm home the door's open and everything
just sat holding a fucking bag of peas to my face
like an stupid asshole

omw

[ No point in replying through text when he's already pulled out the kit (which is actually a big ol' toolbox worth of stuff because his partner often makes questionable life choices) to check that they'd restocked on sutures, and is ready to go. He'll be downstairs before he could finish an actual response.

Door's open means he just lets himself in when he hits South's floor, and there she is on the couch looking like she went twelve rounds with somebody. He doesn't see anything bleeding profusely like a gunshot or stab wound, though. Which means... ]

Well, I can already tell it wasn't Felix. That's something.

[ Besides that comment he doesn't prompt her to start talking, though. The kit gets set on South's coffee table as he claims the spot next to her, flipping the lid open and looking her over more closely to see what he needs to get out. ]

Jesus fuck, no, it wasn't fucking Felix. I'm not— actually, no, I can't fuckin' finish that sentence, 'cause I am a fucking idiot.

[ Her face is already starting to bruise up something fierce, under the bag of peas she is holding to her face like she said she was. Her bottom lip is split in a way that it's hard to tell it's from a punch, or from someone using their teeth. There's bruising blooming down her back and in several other places, too, all typical of a fight, including the knuckles of one hand—a hand she's broken before, not that Drake knows that.

Beyond the bruises, there's still fresh scratches, the kind you're only going to get from someone deliberately raking nails over skin. It's not the worst South's ever been beat up, but it's the worst she's had since she got here where the only fights she's had have been spars and the sex that led to bruises was still less intense than— all this. ]

[ The Monday after they return from Insincerity, Drake gets a text from Val with an image attached. In all honestly, even though things are better after Generosity, it still feels... awkward, sending this, knowing there's no way he won't be drinking at his own engagement party, but even if they weren't also inviting Ephemera it would be far more awkward in the long-run not to invite Drake, so... ]

Congratulations, Val. We'll be there.

I assume Kazu's cooking? If you need a second kitchen for anything I don't mind running things up and down from ours.

Thank you, Drake. He is, and I have absolutely no doubt he's going to go a little overboard, you know how he can be about things. He would definitely appreciate the extra fridge and oven space.

He's enthusiastic, yeah. I'll clear some fridge space for you guys a day or two before?

That'd be perfect. Either he or I will let you know if anything else comes up.

[ There's a pause, and he starts typing something along the lines of 'we're okay, yes?' with as much an intention of implying please, keep the truce up as anything else, but that would look strange if Kazu saw it, so... instead, with less underlying motives. ]

Thank you, again. I'm glad it is seeming like so many of our friends can be there.

[ There's important friends who can't be, but he's trying not to think about that. ]

[ No worries, Val, the fellow dead guy definitely isn't going to bring up the absentees. He is, however, gonna go double check the cupboards and note the number of chairs at the table in his apartment... ]

How many people did you invite? You might need to borrow more than our fridge.

If everyone comes and brings a plus one, I think 16, give or take.

Yeah you're definitely gonna need our dining room set. Probably dishware and cutlery too, unless you plan on more parties like this and wanna invest in extra.

I doubt we'll be doing anything so big any time soon, at the very least. We'll gladly take whatever you can lend us.

We've got you. Bonus is everything will match, these apartments are all identical.

That is convenient. As is you only being a few floors away instead of being at the other extreme of the building, elevator or no.

You still want to show me some places?

[Because he's out and free and excited to see Drake now]

'Course I do. You mind swinging by the tower to meet me? I've gotta bring Sable home, we're at the park.

[ He could just say he'll meet Jesus somewhere in a little while, but really he just wants the chance to have as private a conversation as possible. And he's not saying that over an open line. ]

As long as I get to meet Sable.

[He's on his way.]

We're 19B. Don't let her jump on you before you say 'okay' -- we're trying to train her to sit first before she gets big enough to knock somebody over.

[ Back to the apartment they go, too. He'll get there first and opens the door when Jesus knocks shortly after, expression as open and friendly as ever. ]

[Jesus is sporting a split lip and a dark bruise on his cheek just under his left eye. For all that, he is genuinely, openly glad to see him--he just can't grin without reopening the cut, so his expression is carefully more subdued.]

Hey.

[ Once Drake gets a look at that his expression shifts to concern, and he steps back to let Jesus in with a bit more reserve. ]

Hey. Come in, baby girl's waiting to meet you.

[ Moving into the apartment, there's a mostly-grown black lab puppy on the living room rug. She's sitting politely at the moment, but with an obvious air of barely restrained excitement for NEW PERSON, her tail whipping back and forth behind her.

Drake's gonna hold off asking what exactly happened for a minute longer, but as Jesus comes in he's not hiding a very careful once-over to see if the smaller man might be hurt anywhere else. Stiff movements or what have you. ]

[It's barely there, but there is a limp. When he bends slightly to introduce himself to Sable, he has to coax his back to allow even that little movement.

Most dogs have gone wild in his world. Seeing a pet, a friendly one, gets a smile that immediately turns into a wince because, yep, that damn lip injury. He doesn't mind though; it's worth it to grin at a puppy. He waits for Drake to give the okay before he will go right into ear and belly scratches]

Where did you find her?

[ Somebody beat the shit out of him, Drake thinks, bristling protectively as he follows and gives Sable the okay to rush up to their guest. Luckily she's oblivious to his tension, and bounds forward for an enthusiastic greeting. All wiggles and puppy kisses. She's just about full size now, but has yet to fill out and still has that lanky clumsiness of youth. ]

Pet shop. In my world that's sketchy, but the only shelter here was all cats when we looked.

[ They wanted a dog. But unless Jesus is really gonna dig into this topic, Drake's changing it. ]

Who did this to you?

The last Dom who rented me out before I called Rosita.

He wanted to know how I broke the guard's arm. I didn't tell him. I guess he thought this would motivate me to fight with him.

[He looks tired, and not especially happy, but he's okay.]

I've had worse. And I'm probably due for worse now that I live here.

Who, Jesus? If it was another LIEr, it matters why he wanted to know.

[ Drake looks worried. And there's nothing he can do about it now, but in the future? ]

You're not 'due' for anything. It might happen when the city's really fucking with us, but don't resign yourself to it like people get to use you however they want just 'cuz you lost the societal coin flip. Doesn't matter if you've had worse. You don't deserve it now.

...I hope you found out something useful.

I don't think he was. I've never seen him before. I didn't get his name.

[But he isn't sure he'd share it if he did, either. He's a little disturbed with himself to find that he still defaults to protecting those who abuse him, even after all these decades and after all this time spent teaching himself to handle things better. But he tells himself that in this case he has a plan.]

I didn't deserve what happened. No one who goes into that place deserves it. But it's still happening. That's what we have to work with.

For now.

You're dodging my point and the question.

[ He doesn't sound angry about it, but he is calling it out. Tell him what you learned, Jesus. And what you're going to do with it.

Luckily or unluckily, Drake's not the type to push or make demands. Not without a damn good reason. So here he just rakes a hand through his hair, circling behind the kitchen island and opening a cupboard. ]

Don't trust me yet, huh?

[He flinches because Drake, he knows, deserves more than Jesus is giving him. He follows him and leans against the island, taking some weight off his sore leg.]

I don't want to get you in trouble. I want to talk to you about all of it--it's part of why I'm here. [The main reason, though, is just that he wanted to see Drake, to be at ease with him like he was the first time they met. He just wants to be around someone he likes.]

I'm just having a hard time now that I'm here because I don't want to get you hurt, I don't want to ruin any of this for you.

[ Drake's brows draw together slightly, not quite a frown but... concern. Unhappiness. General 'mrrrrr' energy, as he pulls down jar of peanut butter and opens a drawer for a knife. ]

You know keeping this totally to yourself will still be dangerous for everybody around you, right? I've done the 'lock it down to protect people' thing before. Sometimes all that means is they walk right into shit unprepared.

[ The jar and knife come with him as he moves back into the living room, glancing around until he seems to spot something -- Sable's got one of those hollow toys. Drake picks it up and sits on the couch to fill it so she's entertained while they're out, and Jesus is welcome to join him. ]

I'm not gonna force you to tell me anything, but all the secrecy's gonna do is make me worry about you.

I wanted to get a sense for how the guards are on shift. Who they interact with. What their rotations are like. I wanted to see other prisoners.

I just wanted to know firsthand what it was like, so I'd know what I was fighting if I decided to try. Now I know.

[ Okay, so he did learn something. The question is, how useful could it be? Captives rotate quickly, in the actual prison and the zoo alike... and guards tend to be far more vicious on the streets, especially in the Down. Places where the city authority has less eyes on them as well.

There's obviously more to this he's not seeing, so he might as well ask. Strategy's never exactly been his area of expertise. ]

Why the focus on the Zoo?

[He frowns, he hesitates, but this time it's just to marshal his thoughts and not because he's reluctant to answer.]

Because it's a symbol. It's the place they use to scare us into obeying.

...the Zoo's not what most of us are scared of, Jesus. Destroying a symbol is terrorism against them, but it might not have the impact you're hoping.

[ It's hard to explain what the actual threat of Duplicity is to somebody so new -- Drake isn't even sure where to start. ]

[he's going off of someone else's blueprint, which means he's all ears for more ideas and criticisms.]

What's your biggest fear here?

Personally? When things mess with who we are. Some of it's actually the city's fault drugging us, some of it seems beyond their control. But if we're sticking to fighting the government's bullshit? I guess I'd target the SLUT Center.

It really depends on what you want to change, specifically. And what you're willing to risk -- every attack in the past four years has failed, but the power has switched hands. I wouldn't tear it all down, in any case. There are places in this world with worse practices than Duplicity. You ever heard about Veracity? I'd worry if we ever actually struck hard enough to shake this city, they'd move in to put us down.

[That's a good option. He, personally, tends to think the SLUT Center is a better target; but it's not his plan. Still. Something to consider.]

What's Veracity?

Another city nearby. My only experience with it was camp last summer... which had way stricter rules than we live under here. Like death sentence rules. And I heard about what they do to the noncompliant.

[ This is secondhand, but Drake believes the source, so. ]

On a trip two years before, anyone who didn't meet daily quota was marched up onto a gallows with their contract partner and made to watch them die before getting executed themselves.

[Well that. That's more like what he's used to.

It doesn't mean Duplicity can't be made better and no one should fight to make it so, but that is worth keeping in mind.]

Good reason not to burn this place all the way down.

...Are you happy here?

Glad we're on the same page. A lot of newer folks act like this is the worst place ever, and... it sucks, sure. But I'd be in the improvement camp, not the blow it all up camp. If I had the means to do either.

[ He doesn't have the network or the skills, not really, and people tend to find his kindness suspicious. So he's just... settled. Found his place, such as it is.

Jesus' question earns a moment of consideration. ]

I don't think my standards are what anybody should be going by.

Mine probably aren't, either. I guess what I'm asking is, what makes you happy? Whether it's here or not.

...yeah. I'm happy. I spent so much of my life without anybody, even myself, that all it takes is being with people I care about. If I can help 'em somehow, even better.

[ Drake shrugs a little, stuffing his hands in his pockets awkwardly. ]

That doesn't mean I like the rules here more than anybody else. I'd change a lot of things, if I could, not even for my own benefit. But I'm willing to roll with a lot of shit to keep what matters to me safe.

Me, too. [And that's something else he's trying to keep in mind. Drake and Carver are better off here than they were at home, it seems; he doesn't want to ruin that for them.]

I do think we can make things better here, though. It doesn't have to be through violence, it's just...that usually ends up being the fastest way.

The way you've been talking about it, I kinda figured that was the method in mind. Maybe that wasn't fair.

[ Finally, he tosses Sable the filled toy and watches her pounce on it, tail wagging furiously. Not a care in the world. ]

...did you actually wanna go out? I could just as easily make something here, but I don't want you to feel like I'm forcing you to tell me anything.

Oh- no, let's go out. [He will always take going out over staying in.]

I'm sorry. I want to get a better picture of this place; the only way to do that is to talk to other people and see where they're at with it. [But he doesn't mean to put Drake in an awkward position, having to think about rebellion and terrorism.]

I mean, I asked. I'm gonna worry either way, and if I know then maybe I can help somehow, too. But we shouldn't talk about this kind of shit around natives so if you wanted to loop me in...

[ Figuring the rest is self explanatory, Drake leaves it there and stands up to toss the knife in the sink and the jar back in the cabinet. Since they are going out! ]

What're you in the mood for?

[And here he turns sheepish]

Chicken. Again.

I always thought if I found a city with real restaurants I'd never eat the same thing twice, but... I missed chicken strips.

Are you on your way to the jail right now?

[Someone sounds upset, and barely awake, and has definitely been told that he is but suddenly feels the need to verify everything that comes out of their mutual acquaintance's mouth.]

Yeah, he called me. I just had to get a contract printed before heading down there -- I don't trust their notary. You wanna sign off too?

[ Drake doesn't wait for her answer, as a second later a message comes through with a file attached. Whether Rosita reads it or not is up to her, but Drake figures she wants to check his terms.

It's not written super formally, but Drake's been around the law on both sides enough to know to phrase things like this carefully. Jesus can work and spend his money freely, he can choose his own partners with no obligation to help with his dominant or partner sub's quotas, and besides the boilerplate financial and sexual support the city requires Drake's added that he has to provide Jesus with housing -- privacy within guaranteed. ]

Edited 2022-09-26 17:07 (UTC)

[She will read it, because nothing about the city so far has made her feel at ease with regards to her friend specifically - and, of course, some aspects on her own behalf - but it is taking everything in her not to run a full on rescue operation on the fucking prison before they cut some part of him off.]

Great, yeah, but you're going now? Like you're walking? Because I can head down if you're caught up somewhere.

Right now I'm waiting for the elevator, but I already requested they bring him from his cell to visitation for me. He's gonna be fine, Rosita.

[ Drake does understand her frustration, though. Despite how calm he sounds, his next question might make it a bit more obvious. ]

You got any idea why he waited for them drag him off in the first place?

[She hates being told he's going to be fine, hates what feels to her like being told there wasn't ever anything to worry about. Jesus has done it to her too, like she doesn't know people that were kept in closets and fed dog food, like she hasn't fought her way free of cannibals.

Which, in retrospect, probably won't happen here. It's not enough to calm her but it's enough she doesn't bite Drake's head off right now.]

Yeah I do. He always has to push, he always has to do something his way.

I'll let him speak for himself but I'd bet what I owe you twice over.

Good. I'm gonna talk to him soon enough, obviously, just wanted to brace for it if you thought it might be more of that 'I should sign with a jerk I don't mind screwing over' bullshit. 'Cuz I was pretty sure I'd talked sense into him on that count, at least.

[ Which is (again) a sentiment Drake understands. He has friends who went that route, at least for a little while. But he doesn't believe it's a good decision and for all that he was going to let Jesus do what he wanted... come on, man. ]

[She does, and she has a few other theories too, but she'll let Jesus defend himself. He's going to be stubborn about it anyway.]

Good luck.

Let me know when he's out? Just a text or something.

You've got it. I'm hitting the down now, won't be long.

[ The twenty minutes it takes for Drake to get over to the jail, check in for visitation, let Jesus read over the contract for both of them to sign, and the wait for him to be processed out afterwards? Probably still feels like an eternity to Rosita, but isn't actually that long in the grand scheme of things. Drake winds up taking him over to sub housing to wash up and pack what he's got -- they're getting him his own place asap and he can crash in the Up til then -- and that's when he hits Rosita back. ]

All good. They didn't hurt him.

[It does feel like an eternity, and Rosita manages to keep herself from going down to the jail anyway but it's a trade off and she has to put together a kit in preparation to take with her to - what? She stops herself counting the rounds in her gun's clip, to make sure they're all there, to make sure of how many guards she'll have the luxury of a bullet for and how many she'll have to take out manually.

She told Jesus he had an hour to contact her or she was coming looking for him regardless; she didn't give Drake a timeframe, but she jumps on her phone the moment the notification goes off.]

Thank god.

Thank you.

We're just grabbing his stuff and heading up, if you want me to send him your way?

I would love to wring his neck in person, yes.

If you could manage it not in person that'd be pretty impressive. Maybe keep it a gentle wringing, I think he freaked himself out more than he meant to.

Believe me, he would know.

I'll see what I can do.

I believe in your ability to not make me do more paperwork today.

[She's quiet the rest of the night after that, except a brief I've got him to return the favor so Drake knows he's safe. Most of the day passes before she sends out another text, asking to meet, asking for when and wherever he wants. She'll be there.]

[ It's the same building so Drake wasn't exactly worried, but he appreciates the message. And is browsing apartment options to present to Jesus later when Rosita's text comes in. No one else needs to know that his initial response is to sigh and scrub at his face, because he absolutely understands and would never want to make it seem like someone's protectiveness is a pain in his ass... but she's really gotta calm down. Hopefully whatever she wants to talk about, he'll be able to make her a little more comfortable with the situation?

He texts back that she can just meet him in the lobby, since it's about time for Sable's walk. They can take her to the beach where nobody but LIERs go and have some privacy for this conversation. ]

Rosita texts back an agreement and she's there, sitting on a bench and glancing idly through a magazine while she waits. She still has her shoulder sling on and arm splinted and strapped tight across her body, and she's still dressing in layers despite the weather, although those layers are lighter fabric now. A tanktop and a linen button down, expensive jeans and sensible boots to go with the knife that's still there, still openly displayed at her hip.

When she glances up and recognizes him, she drops the magazine, standing.

"Hi - and who's this?" It's been years since she's seen a pet, and that was Dog, who couldn't be a more perfect replica of the man who named him if they'd planned it.

The weapons and layers aren't surprising, but the sling is. Maybe it's not a new development, but Rosita wasn't wearing it or the splint when they first met. Drake doesn't bother trying to hide the curiosity in his eyes at what happened to her as he introduces the animal at his side.

"This is Sable," he tells Rosita, lifting his free hand and gesturing in a way that his dog seems to recognize, as she instantly sits down with her tail wagging behind her. "Good girl, say hello."

The teenage-gangly black lab lifts a paw and holds it there waiting to shake, looking up at Rosita with big hopeful brown eyes.

Rosita hates that she has such an obvious signal to anyone at all who has eyes, but there's nothing for it. The sooner it heals, the sooner she can get rid of the damn thing, so here we are.

She focuses on the dog, blinking a bit - Dog knows tricks too but Dog nips when he's excited and barely listens to Daryl unless it's a command that means run - but despite herself a smile breaks across her face when she realizes what's expected of her.

"What a good girl," she murmurs, warm, and does accept the dog's paw, shaking once before letting go. "She's beautiful. It's been years since I've seen one that wasn't half-wild at best."

"Yeah, Jesus said the same thing when he met her... but she's a sweet girl. We got her last winter, she's not quite a year yet." He offers Sable a treat and ruffles her ears for performing the command properly, then nods towards the door. "I always wanted a dog but never had the chance before here."

Drake holds the door for Rosita and then turns towards the outskirts of town, still planning on a walk along the beach for privacy's sake.

"What did you want to talk about?"

Rosita follows, then falls in on the side of Drake opposite the dog. What did she want to talk about?

She tries to be honest with herself, even when the answer is stupid. She hedges first though by saying, "I have the rest of the money I owe you." It's not a lie, she did want to get it to him sooner rather than later, so it'll do.

"On me, but I figure whipping out a wad of cash isn't good no matter what street you're walking on."

"You can pass it off when we get back," Drake agrees, in his usual easygoing tone. How casual he sounds doesn't really mesh with what he says next. "But you could've just sent that over with Jesus, or come downstairs yourself. You asked to meet."

There's no judgment and no pressure to it. He isn't really even asking a question, despite it being obvious. Whatever Rosita wants, she'll get there in her own time whether he pushes or not.

"Jesus doesn't know I borrowed it," she shrugs with her good shoulder. "At least, I didn't tell him." She doesn't really care if Drake did or not, but it's her business, and she handled it.

"I won't say I wanted to apologize for last night, because I don't. I'm not sorry. But I did figure maybe we should get a chance to talk when there's not some kind of problem or negotiation on the table."

"Neither did I, so no. He doesn't know." Not that it matters to Drake, either. He doesn't need credit for helping or anything like that. Just figured he should confirm that he didn't say anything either.

They stop at a crosswalk and he praises Sable for sitting to wait, only to immediately look over at Rosita quizzically for what she says next.

"There's nothing to be sorry for, first of all. But okay. You've got my attention -- we're not solving a problem or negotiating something, so what should we talk about? I'm more of a never have I ever guy than twenty questions, but you can go first either way."

It's a look and an answer that earns him an odd look of her own.

"Well, never have I ever played never have I ever," she snorts. It's still surprises her when things from the old world crop up, even though she is essentially standing in the old world.

Just with a lot more sex now.

"Or twenty questions. I like my conversations to be conversations. What were you expecting?"

"Are you gonna get offended if I answer that honestly?"

The light changes while they're still regarding one another with uncertainty, but then Drake shrugs and starts walking again. He's going to answer honestly anyway, so it doesn't particularly matter.

"Threats. Maybe a rant about how I've already fucked up by letting him run out his grace period? Something like that."

"That's why we need an actual conversation," she says, stepping down to follow him across.

"He's a grown ass man. I'm not his mother, wife, or lover. We're friends and that means something different where we're from than it does for most, so I get why you'd expect a shovel talk - and I'm not taking it completely off the table. But I do understand that you don't control him. I have met him."

"I feel like I should make it clear I'm not interested in controlling him. Cuz yeah, he's a grown ass man. I've already got a pet and despite what the city thinks he's a person, not my property. The offer was on the table and I made it clear what I thought the best course of action was. He had to decide for himself."

Does he wish Jesus hadn't put it off another two and a half weeks? Yeah. But Drake absolutely refuses to push on this kind of thing. Who'd want to sign with somebody they felt coerced by in the first place? It fucks up the dynamic before it even really exists.

"Anyway, you can give a shovel talk if you want. I'm sure you're terrifying but I'm not worried about it... he trusts me for a reason so hopefully you will eventually, too. All the stalling on a contract has been something else." There are a lot of options, all equally likely to be contributing somehow. Commitment issues, fear of rejection if he got attached, viewing himself as a burden, the potential for loss in a place like this, probably reminding him of past traumas from living in an apocalypse... Drake's no stranger to this shit. It's just all the more reason to let Jesus come to him.

"I think I'll keep it in my back pocket for when I feel like I need it," she answers, lightly. She is terrifying, she's killed more people than a lot of soldiers, and she'll do it again without hesitation if she decides that's what needs to happen, but that means not making threats needlessly. "As for trusting you - Jesus is a good judge of character and him trusting you takes you a long way with me, sure. But no one's perfect, and I've seen what happens when he makes bad calls."

Her eyebrows pull together a bit, almost a frown, not quite. She's not judging her friend, not by a long shot, but the truth remains that their gauges are skewed - perhaps permanently - by the world they come from and that they're both hoping someday to get back to, she's pretty sure. "And you get that there's always going to be that extra pressure, right? No matter what you say, the city still has expectations. The program can change shit at any time. That's not nothing."

Everyone makes bad calls sometimes, so again... Drake gets the concern. He just isn't worried about it in this case because he knows himself. Rosita doesn't, so she is. It's really simple, but it's better that this kind of thing isn't rushed. At least, every case where he's speedrun earning someone's trust has been a traumatic situation. None of them need that right now.

Her question gets a moment's consideration because it deserves it, but ultimately Drake shrugs one shoulder.

"I think the important part, and the only part that I can control, is that the pressure is never gonna be coming from me. You could talk to my partner if you don't believe me, but like... yeah. Sometimes the city demands stuff. Those situations? We're still in them together as far as I'm concerned. What my sub wants is way more important to me than the city's punishments, but I'm usually able to spin things. I've only ever used my designation as leverage to protect people."

"Your sub," she echoes, popping her lips a bit on the end consonant. Her smile is wry, and her dark eyes serious.

"I'm getting the message loud and clear that you got this. You aren't worried. You probably even think I'm being overly cautious at best, fucking ridiculous at worst, and I get that. What are you supposed to do with your new friend's crazy friend, right?"

She shoves her hand in her back pocket, glances down at the dog, then back up at Drake. "You been in the military anywhere, Drake?"

Drake huffs softly, but at this point it's sounding a little frustrated.

"You can drop the possessive pronoun if that bothers you, or even the sub part. It's just that both those descriptors usually apply around here." He rakes his free hand through his hair, not liking how she's describing his attitude. Or the turn that the question is probably taking this conversation, but he'll answer. Honestly, even. "I've fought a war, but I'm not a soldier, no. And I know already I'm not cut out for it."

Rosita doesn't actually like to pick fights despite the fact she won't back down from one; she's not happy to see signs of frustration, but she stays focused for the time being regardless.

"Even better, because we aren't either. But you lost people? People who were just there as well as people important to you?" It's easier not to blame people for not being cut out for fighting when there's no fighting going on; there's not here, so she can keep her voice even, keep it to a simple yes or no rather than trying to dig in when she's not after that.

It's not the fighting that Drake isn't cut out for, at least. It's taking orders. It's obeying when you're told to kill someone who doesn't deserve to die, or being told to protect someone who doesn't deserve to live. He's heard plenty of horror stories of war where the enemy isn't really the evil so despite being an excellent fighter, Drake knows he'd be a terrible soldier.

He doesn't tell Rosita any of that. Just nods, expression gravely serious: yes, he's lost people. And a few times now, he's sacrificed himself.

She doesn't need to hear that, either.

"I buried him, Drake. And I don't mean in the metaphorical sense. I helped dig his grave, I hammered a nail into his coffin." She was the reason he was outside the walls in the first place, but her guilt doesn't have any room here.

"And more people than I can count before that. We fought shoulder to shoulder for years, sometimes when we didn't even know why we were bothering anymore. We starved and froze together, we built walls and traded goods together. I was standing beside him on a literal firing squad line. We buried other friends together - hell, we put other friends down together. What would you do, if you suddenly got one of your people back, and suddenly you had a second chance? How many questions would you ask, how closely would you look at the people who ended up with contracts over them in a place like this?"

Edited 2022-10-10 18:11 (UTC)

For a long moment after Rosita stops asking questions, Drake stays quiet. He looks out at the waves down the beach, just breathing the sea air and twisting Sable's leash between his fingers. Tactile things. Stay in the moment. Answer her.

Finally he exhales heavily, like he's made a decision.

"The thing is, you're asking me these questions as 'if's when they're not. It doesn't line up exactly, but I do understand. And it's because I know where you're coming from with all this that I've never called you crazy, never said you're overreacting or too worried. But there's also no way for me to prove to you that I'm not gonna hurt him except letting it play out."

He looks back at Rosita, expression just resigned now. Grieving for someone who's also right in front of you is a mess and he knows that all too well. Doesn't mean it doesn't have to happen.

"I can promise you til I'm blue in the face that I mean well and you won't believe me, because of what other people have put you through. That's not your fault. But it's not mine, either. And it took me a long time and a lot of pain to accept that I can't convince anyone to trust me. I can't, Rosita. All I can do is tell you the truth and do my best for him. Maybe eventually that'll be enough."

"People hurt each other. We don't always mean to, but we do. It's inevitable." Which is her own history talking and she is aware enough of it to know that - to, for the most part, catch herself before she starts holding grudges because of it.

But her point is: "I don't expect you to be perfect, or superhuman. I'm not actually trying to manage his life. But it's easy to meet him and think that he's doing fine with things when it's more that it's always been the only option we've had. He's important to me, and I want better than that for him."

Jesus is one of the most stable survivors she knows, and he still got inside his own head and got himself killed; she can't, won't say this though, so she says the rest.

"I listen to people who have been here a lot longer than us talk and I think sometimes you've forgotten what it was like to be new. To still be adjusting. That's what I'm after, not promises you can't make and I don't want. I want you to consider how a phrase like "my sub" just pops out of your mouth but hits me like it does - and I'm not even in the contract with you."

Edited 2022-10-10 19:07 (UTC)

"He's not doing fine," Drake agrees softly, "even though you're right that it looks that way. Something we've got in common."

When you spend a huge chunk of your life behind a mask, never letting your guard down? Vulnerability is hard. And he's not going to tell Rosita what Jesus admitted to him, the things he's struggling with... she probably knows already but either way they're not his feelings to talk about. Drake just moves on.

"I can use different vocabulary if it bothers you, but I feel like that's kinda besides the point. They're just words. Communication is knowing what the other person means when they say things, and yeah. I've adjusted to things here. I use their bullshit terminology. But I didn't know it'd hit you wrong until you told me so, and now I can tell you that the phrase doesn't mean the same thing to me as to the city." He shakes his head, lips quirking. "World hopping for over four years has really hammered home that the words don't matter... it's being willing to talk things through until everybody's on the same page. And I know I'm there with Jesus."

She watches him while he talks, head up, chin up, steady; there are things she could say but then he finishes off that way and she smiles, too, quick and dry and nowhere near her eyes.

"You got this," she summarizes. Shrugs. "No worries. No need for any other perspectives."

She can't do more than she's done, and she recognizes that part of this is rooted in things she isn't ready to talk about herself, and the fact that she's just not going to be happy about the arrangement - with anyone.

"I hope I'm wrong." She drops her hand out of her pocket and glances around them, orienting herself for the walk back to the apartments.

Wait, what? Drake's brow furrows, but it's almost entirely confusion. How the hell did she get from what he said to that? If the metaphor is being on the same page, he's suddenly feeling about three chapters back buried in vague and ominous foreshadowing.

"Wrong about what? You've really gotta tell me what you think I'm fucking up if we're gonna make progress. If all you were really after was that I consider different perspectives, I'm telling you that's what we've been doing. Something doesn't feel right, somebody speaks up, we talk about it til we get each other. So I don't know why you're shutting down instead."

She can walk away if she wants, but at this point it'll just be hitting pause because he's not going to be done with the conversation until he understands what the major problem she has with him is.

"No, what you're telling me is you have a lot more experience out here in the world and you're not worried about the things I am," she throws back, eyes narrowing.

"I'm not shutting down, I just don't know what else I'm supposed to say at this point. I tell you that I think you're so comfortable with the way things are here that you don't think about how you say the things you say, and your answer to that is words don't matter? You just agreed with me that things aren't as okay as Jesus seems to be, and then tell me you know you're on the same page with him?" And she wasn't there, so maybe she is wrong after all. Maybe this is ground they've covered, maybe this is more her experience than Jesus's.

She squares up as best she can with someone twice her size, but it's not a challenge; she just needs to be as clear and direct as she can: "I am telling you it's a problem. I don't need you to address it with me because it's between the two of you now, but all you've been doing is brushing me off, so what reason would I have to think it's any different with him? Unless you really want me to assume it's because I'm a woman."

She doesn't, but, you know. Shit happens.

"...this is what I meant about communication being the part that matters. From my end I'm just trying to reassure you, not dismiss that you're worried about your friend. Explaining where I'm coming from isn't brushing you off, it's just... if you were trusting me to fix your car, wouldn't it make you feel a little better to say I've done it before than just saying I'll try my best not to break it worse?"

They do need to be clear and direct. Drake takes a breath, patting his hip so Sable stands up on her back legs and he can pet her while he thinks how to explain without betraying Jesus' trust.

"I'll choose my words more carefully from now on, I'm sorry. But I'm not comfortable here, if that means anything. I just know how to navigate it. And I agreed with you because we're on the same page -- he's told me that there's a whole lot that's not okay. I'm not guessing, I know what a bunch of his problems are and he's heard some of mine. If there's more than what we've talked about I just have to trust that he'll bring them up when he needs to." Which is more than he can say for Rosita, whose defensiveness is raising more red flags for him than Jesus ever has... "It seems like we're not gonna be able to be friends so long as I'm signed with him because of the power dynamic? That's okay if it's the case, I just wanna know if I can ask who the hell treated you so badly that you'd assume I don't care about your feelings either."

"Friends? Do you even want -" is as far as she gets before the rest of what he said registers and she's drawn up short by it. At first it seems like she's going to blow up on the strength of the insinuation alone, the way her eyes narrow and her spine snaps straight like he just took some kind of swing at her, but she visibly catches herself.

It's a fair observation, because it's exactly what she'd been thinking - wondering, even, because Jesus doesn't vouch for people who don't care about others, not the way he's vouched for Drake. It digs at the part of her that Duplicity itself has been hammering on and her expression goes guarded instead of angry, wary instead of pointed.

"Everyone treats everyone like shit where I'm from," she says, and she'd die for any single person from Alexandria, but she does know that much. "Everyone's lost everyone they ever knew, some of us multiple times over, and we lose more people all the time. There's just no reward left for caring about feelings - except Jesus."

Drake doesn't answer the aborted question, instead watching Rosita's reactions carefully. There's as much to learn about her from those -- the way it obviously sets her off before she catches her anger, seeming to hold it close while her expression shifts to wariness. Like she's locking her shit down, though Drake can't tell yet if that's for his sake or because she doesn't want to deal with it herself.

The answer she ultimately gives paints a harsher picture of the world than Jesus gave him, but of course it makes sense. He nods quietly, and like he promised her takes a moment to choose his words more carefully.

His impulse is to try and relate to her, but since that hasn't been going well so far Drake just lets the thought form and drift away -- the understanding of how pain and loss will build on itself, a weight that gets heavier and heavier until the person breaks and closes themselves off from being hurt anymore. It can make someone seem selfish, cold, or even cruel, but it's just a defense. And he's seen people come back from it. Sometimes because of him, even. Rosita's a better candidate than most, actually, since she still has that one person to care for... but it does bring her behavior regarding him into sharper focus.

"Can I ask you something?" His voice is gentle, cautious. There's no need for him to say how special it makes Jesus, that he was able to hold on to his kindness back home. That it says something good about Rosita too for recognizing that in him, for wanting to protect it. She knows all that. Drake's more worried about something she might not realize, and when she seems to be permitting the question he can feel himself bracing before he's even put it into words. "Are you worried that if you ease up on assuming everyone's just out for themselves, it'll make home that much harder to survive? Cuz that's reasonable, but it's a really painful way to live."

Rosita includes herself in that statement: there's no reward left for caring about feelings, although she does her best anyway. She's just not as successful at it as Jesus is by far, in part because she's not trying as hard as he is. His vision for what the world can be is important but so, too, is her brutal practicality for what it is. For what it's going to take to get to the next world Jesus wants.

The gentle tone grates on her the way being patronized always has, even though she knows - she does - that's not what he's doing. It just feels that way, feels like a threat for no reason she can explain to anyone who hasn't been there, so she nods ever so slightly and waits until he goes ahead with his question.

"I know it will," she says simply. She's seen it. She's lost friends and more to it. People who fought through weeks and weeks of walkers and open road only to lose their way when they reached safety and let it all go. "But more importantly, I'm the one that has to start there and work backwards. Jesus gets to start out believing the best. I believe the worst. We meet somewhere in the middle, and we both stay alive, we both stay safe, but we both get to feel too."

It's not as if Drake hasn't understood from the very beginning that people assuming the worst of him and being suspicious of his "real" intentions beneath the kindness is usually just self-defense. There's the occasional jerk, sure, but everyone else comes around even if they don't intend to, so Drake is patient.

This is probably the first time (in his world or the ones he's wound up in since his death) that somebody's got a completely reasonable explanation and an active awareness of what they're doing, to both others and themselves... and Drake's found himself the one coming around instead.

There are several things he could say in response and a few more questions he wants to ask, but none of it feels necessary right now. He might go there another day, assuming there is one. Today? Today he's just going to let Rosita assume the worst of him for as long as she needs to, and stop offering reassurances that aren't just reality playing out. Maybe someday they'll be friendlier. Maybe someday she'll trust him a little, and he'll be comfortable telling her that if she's got the option, she shouldn't go home. And at least if that day never comes and he's never more than a potential threat because that's what she needs him to be... at least he understands why, now.

But hopefully on this hypothetical 'someday' Rosita will get to heal a little. And Drake's fine being the one (or another, since he's pretty sure Jesus is there already) to hope that for her while she's not ready or willing to. In the meantime he knows he's a safe person to not only trust, but to hate. He'll drop the reassurance attempts and at least know he's being something for both of them.

"Thank you," he finally tells her, "for explaining all that. I think I'm closer to actually getting it now."

She doesn't hate Drake. With one or two exceptions she typically doesn't bother to hate, since most of the cruelty she's run afoul of in her life has just been people trying the best they know how to survive, or breaking in ways they couldn't quite control. Not all, certainly, and she's ready with her rage to meet them - but Drake isn't on the list. She doesn't waste her energy explaining herself to people she hates.

She watches Drake considering what she's said, considering his words; her eyes drop, very briefly, down to the dog and then back up. She isn't happy, but she isn't dead, and she isn't insane. Today, it's a win.

The corner of her mouth quirks in what could almost be a smile but isn't, and she blows out a breath; it doesn't feel like a victory, but she never expected it would. She nods instead.

"Thank you for listening. Whether you use any of it or not - whether you need it or not." She worries for Jesus, but she trusts him too, and she doesn't know what else to do now. Wait and see, probably. "Stop by whenever, I'll get you your money."

It's obvious she isn't happy or actually reassured, but there's a limit to what either of them can do in conversation. Especially now that he understands how badly he's been misstepping with her. He's kind of talked himself into a corner where saying more won't really help... at least not right now.

"Sure. I'll see you then," he says agreeably, staying where he is for the moment as Rosita turns to leave. Maybe he'll sit on the beach with Sable for awhile, just to think. But when she actually takes a step away from him, Drake calls her name almost reflexively. "Rosita-- I'm sorry."

She's ready to leave it there too, to give them both some space to settle, to give them both some time. When she hears her name and her attention is pulled back, when she turns automatically, she doesn't know what she was expecting if anything.

It wasn't an apology, and her brow furrows as she stops.

"For what?" she asks, genuinely surprised.

Drake considers her surprise for a moment, wondering if that's just not something she hears often or she just didn't expect an apology from him. Uncertain which would be a worse case.

"Being a jerk. Intent's less important than how you make somebody feel... I'll do better."

With that he shifts to claim a spot on the sand next to his dog, who immediately drapes her front half over his lap.

She hesitates again, considering this, considering him; considering if in turn this is some kind of play, even though she doesn't think it is. There's nothing to see though, nothing to discover, and the line of her shoulders relaxes increment by increment.

"If that was you being a jerk," she finally allows, "I think we're gonna be fine. It's been a strange couple months."

Rosita gets to consider his apology in relative privacy -- he can feel her gaze on him but isn't watching her at the moment, not wanting to add any pressure to whether she accepts it or not. If she isn't ready to, she can just turn and walk away.

When a reply does come and Drake glances up at her again, she looks... a little less troubled. There's less tension in her posture, less frustration in her expression. He wouldn't go so far as to say she looks happy, but she does look less unhappy. Like the slider for that emotion moved a bit more towards neutral.

Drake will absolutely take it. Her words are also encouraging, his lips quirking up again slightly at the disclaimer.

"I know. You've got this, just lemme know if there's anything I can do to make it easier."

Rosita likes it when the world makes sense, even if it isn't the best version of itself; she likes when she recognizes something in the people around her, when they behave in ways she expects. She's not there with Drake yet, but at least this does make a kind of sense. At least he's consistent with himself.

"Sure," she hedges, and lifts her good hand to wave as she picks her way back to the boardwalk again. "Let me know, too," she offers, even though there was never a chance she'd say no to doing something to help Jesus.

Jesus comes in person once he's checked in with Rosita and gathered his things. By the time he reaches Drake, he's calm again, most of the jittery, irrational nerves in him are settled. Most of them.

He thinks about opening the door and reasons he'd probably be allowed but he knocks anyway.

A knock is always appreciated, but when Drake does open the apartment door he looks slightly surprised to see that it's Jesus standing on the other side. Because he did expect the other man to come back for the night after visiting Rosita, which means yes, he could have just opened the door.

It's alright. They're still learning how to navigate this. If Jesus hadn't put it off until he'd been arrested things probably would have gone more smoothly, but Drake's rolled with far worse. The surprise only lasts a moment before Drake's expression relaxes into a grin, and he waves Jesus in casually.

"If you're not too wrung out, I've got some listings for you to look at," he says, crossing back to where he's got options spread out on the table. "Were you thinking Up or Down?"

"Oh-" He knew he'd have a choice, he doesn't know why the offer of it still surprises him. "The Down, if that's okay. Most of my friends are there, I work there."

Once the door is shut he sets his bag down. "Are there rules about it?"

"Rules..?" Drake shuffles through the listings, plucking about half of them out and setting the stack aside. "Not that I'm giving you. Don't burn down the building, I guess? I can't really afford that."

He's obviously joking, but as Jesus moves in to look at what he found in his price range he does give it more serious thought.

"Even in the down you'll get caught if you move somebody in besides me or one of my other subs, so keep that in mind, but I feel like if it's an emergency or you wanna live with a partner you'd just tell me? I can't really think of anything else. It's your space. I'd like a key just in case but I'm never gonna come in without permission. You can give one to Rosita instead, if you're more comfortable with that. Just don't tell anybody."

"You get a key," he says, warm, touched that Drake is so mindful of his space. Jesus himself isn't that mindful.

"I want you to feel welcome where I am."

It's important, that's all. Drake smiles fondly at the sentiment, considering his words for a moment as the other man looks over the options.

"Thank you. I'm still not gonna come in uninvited unless we think you're in a coma or something, though. Everybody deserves somewhere they're guaranteed privacy... Ephemera's room doesn't even have a lock but it's his space." He hesitates, not wanting to dredge up any bad memories for Jesus, then figures it's a lost cause considering he was just in a jail cell a few hours ago. "I think all three of us are used to not having anywhere that feels like it's ours, and that's important."

"I'm used to sharing," he admits, but that's being generous. "But I like this. Having a place I can be alone sometimes."

It's just hard to fully get his head around it.

"I like him. Ephemera. He seemed okay with all of this, but you'll tell me if I cause problems, won't you?"

"I think it's safe to say at this point neither of us get jealous. Only protective. So yeah, if something's not working for one of us the other will speak up, but no matter what it doesn't mean you're just out. Okay?"

Honestly, Drake isn't worried about anything coming up that they can't discuss and resolve. He wrote his own obligation to house and support Jesus into the contract just because it's the kind of thing that's good to have there for reassurances, but the odds of the other man intentionally hurting either of them seem... nonexistent. And that's the only reason Drake would want to break a contract. Pretty much anything else, he's sure they could work through or just ride out.

"He likes you, too. In case he was hard to read." A lot of people can't tell at first. Ephemera hides his face, dodges eye contact. He's always tense meeting someone new, and that slowly goes from guarded because they're a stranger to careful that he doesn't make things awkward. It takes awhile for him to warm up, but Drake's familiar with the different kinds of tension in him, what choosing specific words and using certain tones mean when he's talking about someone. "I still think you guys could be friends. He might just need a little encouragement."

"I want to be friends," he agrees. Not just because of their new arrangement, and not just because of Drake. "I thought about asking him to teach me to paint. I have a book for him, when I see him again..."

He hesitates. "I seem nervous, don't I? I am nervous, I'm sorry. I've never been great at coming into new families."

"...he'd love both of those things," Drake tells Jesus, smiling softly. "And nervous is fine. It's probably good, actually? 'Cuz being nervous means a thing matters and I know we all are, I'm just really good at hiding it. Old habits."

It's not a past he's fond of admitting, but it's very relevant to his existence in general. Always needing to be so guarded, to present himself in a very specific way for so long... and it's often useful. He just doesn't want to hide around certain people and sometimes it kicks in regardless.

"Maybe don't emphasize the teaching part, just ask to paint with him then ask questions along the way. Less pressure. What's the book about?"

Drake being nervous is an unexpected comfort. He'd like for them both to be so certain nerves didn't factor in, but like Drake said: maybe it's a good sign.

"Poetry. I mentioned it and he seemed curious about it. It's hard to find any that aren't erotic so I thought I'd save some time and lend him my book."

That makes one of them -- as someone who does things no matter how scared he is, Drake feels like this is the right amount of nerves. On his end, at least. Their existence is a sign this is important enough to him he won't make a careless mistake, but not so present he's doubting his decision. It's a familiar level of nervousness, like before he proposed and when he was standing in front of Hope waiting to be cured. Those weren't choices he'd regretted.

"This might sound lame, but... if it's not too hipster coffee shop to you, offer to read him your favorite. I bet he's never heard one recited in rhythm before." Drake's not an artsy guy himself, more the appreciative type than creative. But this? "I might like to hear a few too, sometime."

Jesus has held off hoards of the undead with nothing but a knife and his own boots, has slipped into enemy headquarters with every person there ready to shoot him through the skull. He does things risky ways to entertain himself.

But put him in a position where emotions are involved, where he's asked to offer part of himself in any intimate way, and he'll balk every single time. It's how he'd ended up in prison before signing with Drake.

He's aware of this part of himself. He doesn't want it to hurt these two men who have risked letting him get close, letting him into their home.

Sharing poetry? That's something he can do happily. He grins at Drake. "Yeah? I could do that. Do you know any poets already?"

"Oh, uh... there's a lady who writes in all lowercase, right?"

No, he does not know any poets. Jesus gets a sheepish look that confirms it wasn't a joke, he's genuinely clueless.

"I haven't read any since high school."

He laughs softly. "Well, why don't you give me a topic? I'll find a poem about it."

"Right now?" Drake glances around as if looking for inspiration, but his gaze settles back on Jesus curiously. "...new beginnings. Can I ask you something?"

It'll take him a while to find the right poem for that, but he'll find it. The question catches him a little off guard, though.

"Of course. Anything."

"Well I guess it's a couple questions, but they're all about the same thing... why Jesus? Also which came first, the hair or the nickname? And do you want me to keep calling you that? Like, is 'Paul' off limits or only for certain people?"

Whoops that was more questions than he meant to ask all at once. He's mostly just curious, but his expression turns sheepish.

"Sorry. Sometimes names are important."

He grins and shakes his head. "Either one. I'm not attached to names, exactly. I'm the same person either way, right? The hair came first; then the way I'd get in the middle of fights." And try to bring peace. "I just don't like to see people fighting. So they started calling me 'Jesus' after the beard came in and after I'd taken a few punches to get people to stop arguing.

"You can call me whatever you want. A lot of people seem to go with 'Paul' here."

"It's a good look on you," Drake says with a grin, reaching up to play with Jesus' hair. "Maybe not the taking punches part, but that'd be kinda pot and kettle of me."

He twirls a lock of hair around his fingers and brushes the end of it down Jesus' cheek before letting go, just looking at him fondly.

"I call people whatever they wanna be called, so if you don't care I guess I'll stick with Jesus for now. That's how you introduced yourself."

Jesus has gone over a decade without anyone looking at him like Drake is. Even in the old world he'd never known anyone quite like Drake anyway, and he basks in it for a little while.

"How long have you been taking punches?"

Oh, that's... not a fun answer. Drake's smile falters, but his response comes easily enough.

"My whole life. Not always for the same reasons, is all."

His expression softens with the unfortunate empathy that comes with knowing what that must mean.

"Yeah, me, too."

"You know, we can stop having shitty things in common anytime now. Seriously."

It's obviously Drake's attempt to lighten the mood a little, but he also isn't quite joking. The overlap in their life experiences is getting uncanny.

"Let me guess... you weren't always the peacekeeper type, either?"

"Not always," he agrees. "I tried to be, most of the time. I've never liked conflict and sometimes I could defuse situations. But mom would fail her home check, or wouldn't make parole, and I'd act out."

He looks up at him. "What about you?"

"I was an angry kid," Drake admits quietly, "and nobody knew til it was too late."

He doesn't mind talking about it, but glances up at Jesus to make sure he wants to hear more before explaining. When it seems like he does Drake goes on, sounding calm if a little resigned.

"My ma's got the worst taste of anybody I've ever met, but I tried to protect her. Part of that was keeping quiet, not causing more trouble. I didn't act out or anything because I was bottling it all up... then one day I snapped. Really snapped."

Jesus was a sensitive kid. He lashed out in specific ways but never so far he'd call it snapping.

It's not hard to imagine, though.

"What happened?"

"I came home one night and found Ma in the kitchen beat to hell. Bloody, crying, her asshole boyfriend in front of the tv yelling for another beer... his name was Frank. And I guess I'd just had enough of it? When I confronted him he pulled out a switchblade, tried to get me through the eye, but like. He was drunk, as always."

He turns his head to the side slightly, pointing to a deep scar on his right temple. When he'd made the deal with Hope for a new body he'd specifically asked to keep it, because it was an important reminder.

"Thing was even once he went down I couldn't stop. Eighteen years of jerks like him beating on us and I just kept--" Drake cuts himself off, looking back at Jesus. "They did go pretty easy on me, but the judge said I went overboard and he was right. So I pled guilty and swore I'd never let anger control me like that again."

Yeah he can imagine this. Not that he sees Drake as violent, but he does see him as protective.

It's the sort of crime a good lawyer could have got him off of, but good lawyers were never available for people like them. "How long did you have to serve?"

"It wound up being about twenty two months. Model prisoner, early release, blah blah." He shrugs. "Funny thing? I was never popular in school but everybody loved me on the inside. Most friends I've ever had in my life."

"My mom had some bad taste in boyfriends, too. I was taken away from her pretty early... I was never big enough to help her." Though he'd tried, in the flailing, doomed way one would expect from a ten year old child.

"If I'd met someone who did what I'd always wanted to be able to do? I would've liked him, too. A lot of guys in prison had moms with bad taste."

"Well when you put it that way..." It does make sense, but Drake knows how dangerous things could've been for him with all his friends being dealers and gangsters. "Guess it's just lucky I was a good influence on them rather than the other way around. For the most part, anyway."

It's easy to picture him being a good influence, too, and he can't help grinning--looking down slightly, like he does when he is touched by something.

"What did you do when you got out?"

"You're probably gonna like me less when I tell you," Drake warns. "People react to my career choice worse than the zombie thing."

"If the zombie thing didn't scare me away, nothing will." He watches him.

"Well... since you've already signed the paperwork..." Maybe his skepticism is unnecessary, but still. He's bracing slightly. "I wound up doing undercover work. My last assignment was vice and major crimes, so my handler was a piece of shit, but most of the time I managed to keep their focus on the real monsters."

"You picked the most dangerous version of a dangerous job?" He asks, smiling slightly. "Why?"

"My friends being convicts actually had a lot to do with it. A lot of them weren't even what I'd consider criminals, definitely not dangerous. Like Pogo would never hurt a fly after the war, but he just couldn't kick and one night he called me from a dealer's trunk. I listened to his murder."

Drake leans back, settling a bit more of his weight against the counter.

"You hear how people got into this shit versus what the guys at the top are like -- the asshole I was going for when I died was practically a cartoon villain and he was untouchable. Half the cops were on his payroll, anybody he even thought might be a problem was never heard from again. And I got so damn close, Jesus. I was right next to him. Every hit he gave me agreed to witness protection, we almost had enough to move... fucking Blaine. Fucking zombies."

Jesus would have to sit and really think to count up the number of people he's seen die. He can't tell you off the top of his head how many people he's killed. He stopped keeping track of how many walkers he's put down years ago.

But with all the violence in his life, his first response to stories like this is still sympathy. Will always be sympathy.

"What happened?"

There's something different about it, to Drake. Somebody dying in an accident or from an illness or in a war or from a zombie attack is, obviously, awful. He's dealt with all those things firsthand, too. But he can't ever accept murder as a thing that happens. He won't. He refuses to. Whether it's his friends or total strangers, he doesn't believe it's ever okay to kill somebody that's not a threat. That's why he went into the work he did -- to protect people who didn't deserve to die on a whim.

But Jesus' actual question is hard to answer.

"It's kind of a long story," he says first, though he's thinking. "Cliff notes? The city's rival crime lord happened to also be a zombie, the one keeping me fed at the time. When I stopped cooperating he sold me out. Blaine's the reason I wound up a lab rat, and once I was dead they couldn't take Mr Boss down."

That's the worst part about death: everything left undone. Everything that can't be done, ever again, without your involvement.

"Drake," he says softly, hurting a little to hear it. "I'm sorry..."

Perhaps oddly, that response earns Jesus a tiny smile. Drake's eyes are still sad but there's more fondness in them than that at the moment, as he reaches out again to take Jesus' hand.

"I've had over four years to come to terms with it -- I'm okay," he promises the other man, tugging him forward off his stool to come closer. "Everybody's got something. Thank you for caring so much about mine."

He studies him, not because he's looking for signs Drake is just playing this off but because it's a comfort whenever he finds someone who has dealt with their pain and come out healthier for it. It, at least, doesn't seem to haunt Drake the way he worries his own losses will haunt him.

He kisses him lightly, with a playful little smirk when he breaks it again. "You're a good example for me."

[ DUPLICITY ] inbox

un: thearchivist; text (misfire)

un: undercover

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

text: un: amidala

un: undercover

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Action

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject