just hide all your stuff, i've heard some of those kids are little shits and will go trying to steal from you the moment you leave. a girl in my ballet class said they almost stole her dog
[That'd be pretty ironic, though, wouldn't it?]
i've already got my mind ready for it, i can't turn back now.
The world is spinning. Round and round. Sometimes, I wonder how my feet stay on the ground, how it all doesn't tip over. Sometimes, the world does tip over. But right now, it's spinning normally, the way it's supposed to.
I'm trying to be normal. But everyone's talking, saying nothing. It's a droning buzz, buzz, buzz in my head.
There has to be more than empty people with empty words. I first saw videos of the Spider-Man online. Then he started getting on the news. It didn't take me very long before I was able to find enough information, Spider-Man's identity.
Peter Parker.
I can't decide if he wants to save the world or if he's overcompensating for the guilt he feels.
I don't feel much different from him.
"Peter," Elliot called, standing a few feet from Peter Parker, Spider-Man. It hadn't been hard to track which coffee shop he frequented and what times.
Peter hadn't wanted anything more than to get coffee and work on editing a few shots that he needed to turn into Mr. Jameson. He'd promised him newer, and better pictures of Spider-Man and the typically angry man was expecting him to deliver. Luckily, for Peter, he didn't have to put too much work into actually getting the shots -- a couple of well placed cameras in some of his favorite spots in the city, and snap! he had exclusive shots of the webcrawler himself. And all without anyone ever suspecting that the guy behind the red and blue suit was the same as the guy who was snapping the pictures. Peter constantly used the excuse that he was 'in the right place at the right time' and had a few 'high quality long distance lenses' that he often used.
His boss didn't know the finer mechanics of photography, nor did he care when he had better shots of Spider-Man than any other photographer in the city could have provided him with. Hell, Peter could have probably been risking his life to get them and J. Jonah Jameson wouldn't have cared in the least. He was a man who only cared about the end result; the amount of copies that he would ultimately sell and how much money that would put into his pocket.
Which ultimately added up to how much money Peter got into his pocket. It was win/win for everyone. Sorta.
Peter looked up at the sound of his name, a curious expression on his face as he turned his head in search of someone he might have known calling for him. He didn't immediately recognize the voice, but he was in a little bit of a daze looking at the small screen of his laptop and could have very well distorted it inside of his mind. But, when his eyes met Elliot's, the curious expression dropped to confused. Maybe he was some intern from the Bugle sent to come and find him for something, or maybe there happened to be another guy named Peter sitting right behind him (highly unlikely, because in all of his life he hadn't ever met another person named Peter.)
"Uh... Me?" He gave another quick glance around, as though someone else named Peter would have it stamped across their forehead and he could just pass this hooded guy off onto them.
Okay. It's definitely him but now I'm not sure what to say. Should I just start with the truth?
There's a saying that 'honesty is the best policy' but I don't think that applies here.
"Hey," Elliot said, as if this were a completely normal situation. He sat down at the table across from Peter, pulling down his hood as he did. His hands rested on the flat surface as he stared at Peter as if he were trying to unravel some hidden code.
Say something. I need to say something else.
"I'm Elliot. I know you're Spider-man. I wanted to meet you."
Should I have said that much? Is he going to freak out right here in the middle of a coffee shop? I hope not. That wouldn't be good for him or me.
That's what Leon had been sentenced to and he found it kind of amusing in its own way, the way the judge had read the verdict aloud 'sentenced to life.' because it sounded a lot more pleasant than it actually was. Like the existence that he'd been given was being taken away and replaced by another -- though, he supposed that going from a life on the outside to a life on the inside was almost an exact representation of that. Since then it had been the same thing over and over; meals at a scheduled time, exercise at a scheduled time, sleep at a scheduled time, everything a routine that quickly became monotonous.
He hadn't been sentenced to life, he'd been sentenced to sacrifice his freedom.
There was at least Elliot, though. The one piece of the machine that was different than all the rest, the thing that he felt was his sole purpose for being locked away in the first place -- he hadn't been told to protect Elliot, but it had been suggested in an anonymous letter that he keep an eye on the kid. Someone had to, he wouldn't have survived otherwise. So, they ate together, they watched the same set of moves on the basketball court together, they talked briefly about whatever television reruns that Leon got the opportunity to watch.
And sometimes they talked about the time before the four walls of the correctional facility located in downtown Brooklyn. They were almost one in the same, but where Leon was simply a pawn in a much bigger organization, he knew that Elliot had been the one calling the shots in his -- at least from what White Rose had told him, by way of secret codes that Leon would spend hours pouring over. Simple things like 'I hope all is well.' and 'The kids send their love' holding much deeper meanings that he racked his brain to decipher.
He was smarter than he looked, but hadn't that been why he was chosen?
"A letter always seemed to me like immortality because it is the mind alone without corporeal friend." Leon quoted one day, sitting across the metal table in the cafeteria from Elliot. " Emily Dickinson." He nodded slowly, as though it explained everything. "They sent me a letter today. I ain't got one since before you showed up."
Elliot was fidgeting at the table again, picking at his food without ever actually eating all that much. He stared at Leon when the other started to talk, tilting his head at the new information. He wasn't sure exactly what the quote was supposed to mean.
"Is that all it said?" Elliot asked but he really wasn't sure if the letter was relevant to him, to his goals, to saving the world.
He was still going to save the world even if he was here now. Darlene was keeping things moving.
"Nah, bro. It didn't say that." Leon laughed softly, picking off a piece of the dinner roll that they had all been served -- which was something that amused him, the irony that they served them with every meal except dinner when the very meal itself was part of the name. Sometimes he didn't really understand people, much less the people who ran the facility that they were kept in, they were on an entirely different wavelength than he was.
And Elliot was on an completely different universe. Maybe if White Rose hadn't given him this task of protecting and watching over the other, he might have still been drawn to him. Leon didn't exactly find himself being pulled toward any of the other prisoners, that sort of gang mentality wasn't one that he subscribed to, especially not when he'd witnessed so many of them sneaking around behind their supposed 'brothers' backs. There wasn't any loyalty among the other convicts, at least not any that would have actually lasted and someone was only as good as they were useful to another person.
Leon preferred to sit back and watch the parasitic relationships unfold -- one person feeding off of another until they had sucked them dry and moved on to the next one.
"It's always weird code with them, y'know. Sounds like something big is about to go down, though. See, they've been talkin' 'bout this championship tournament thing for a while, games leading up to is. The teams they are facing up against are bigger, but not really skilled at the game. They've been cutting players, scouting for new ones." Leon shrugged, he didn't understand what it all meant, he'd been out of the game for too long to know what The Dark Army was planning anymore, and it was too dangerous to try and send any information through letters that may or may not have been read over before they reached him. "I dunno, man. It said to tell you, but I'm feelin' like you ain't got a clue about it either, right? Bein' in this joint too long'll fuck with your head, make you start forgettin' shit."
Elliot gave a shrug as he pushed around the food on his tray. He was never all that hungry. Not without an appetite at all like he had been for quite a while but it was dull and the act of eating was one that was exhausting to him. There was nothing that important about it. It was something you had to do. Part of the routine. It was good for him.
Leon still talked a lot. That was still good. He never had to say much, just listened. Now some of their conversations seemed to have more meaning, like this one. But, what Leon was saying bothered him a little, causing his brows to knit and he couldn't pinpoint exactly why it exactly why but there was something about that. It was unsettling.
It made him want to talk to Darlene.
Elliot shook his head. He didn't but it scratched something in his head. "I don't know."
[It's been years since Daisy had last been to the city she grew up in. Now seemed like the perfect time to return, considering she was pretty much in the same situation she had been when she left. Alone and isolating herself.
Except, so much has also changed since she left. She was a completely different person now with more life experiences than most.
She's been doing her best to keep her head down, considering SHIELD was on her tail. It's late and Daisy found herself getting restless sitting in her van, so she went for a walk.
She felt a lot safer being out here by herself at night now that she could handle herself. Powers or not. Although, the powers helped quite a bit. Like right now when she came across a fight. If you could call it that. Some guy was getting the kick shit out of him by three much larger men.
Daisy doesn't even say anything to give them a heads up, she just uses her power to send them flying away from the poor guy. Once they are down, Daisy rushes over to the guy on the floor.]
[Elliot wasn't sure exactly what had happened but the fight that had taken the guys off of him seemed to have gone far too quickly especially when a girl comes into his line of sight.
Shit.
He groaned, pushing himself back up to his feet and ignoring the wave of vertigo that followed.]
I'm alright, I'm fine. [He said though his vision was blurry and when he tried to look at her he was seeing double and even so the details weren't coming into focus quiet yet. Maybe he needed a few minutes before he was actually fine.]
[That's clearly sarcasm. He looks like he's about to pass out, which is why she hovered close to him. Hands outstretched in case he took a nose dive. Looking him over, her eyes landed on his face. Wait...]
[Elliot shook his head and the world spun for a second but then after a few seconds he at least felt a little bit more in control. He tried to focus his gaze again and at least there was just one of her this time.
She looked familiar.
She knew his name.
Why couldn't he remember hers? Then again he had forgotten his own sister.]
I know you...? [It was somewhere between a question and a statement.]
[Goodwill day had come, because John really just needed more clothes. There was no more getting around it. Thanks to their laundry lessons, John didn't have to make this trip in Elliot's oversized sweatpants and t-shirt, instead dressed in the single change of clothes he kept in his backpack.
And of course he couldn't live with only these two nearly disintegrated outfits forever. But even though Elliot fed him, gave him a place to live, this whole getting new (to him) clothes thing was domestic and weird. Parents did that with their kids for back to school. John didn't even know if he should call Elliot a roommate or what, so how did you decide what was normal to do with people when you couldn't even categorize them?]
[Elliot wasn't sure why he was insisting on going with him. Maybe a part of him didn't trust him enough to just give him the money. But that wasn't true. He wanted to go. It seemed sort of like a normal thing to do. Maybe it wasn't.] I'm already out.
[His customary black hood was pulled up over his head, smoking as they walked along the street to the Goodwill that was closest. It probably wouldn't have the classiest selection but it'd work.]
[John glanced sidelong at him, letting out a little snort of a laugh he couldn't quite stifle in time.]
You look so shady with your hood up like that. [He couldn't be sure if Elliot would even notice (or care much), because he reacted to almost everything so mildly, but most of the sting had gone out of John's words when he said things like that. Regardless of whether John liked someone or not, he was constantly ragging on them about one thing or another; the only real difference came in the tone, whether he sounded like he was tearing them down or teasing.]
[Well, Darlene had warned John about Molly: he'd feel good, she had said, but then it would get weird and he'd be asking them to touch him. The thing was, he also knew Elliot didn't like contact that much, so he assumed that must not be right when the obnoxiously friendly woman next door left it with him and Elliot suggested they do it together.
Elliot was laid back, yeah, but John felt like if something freaked him out, it really freaked him out. He could go from zero to a hundred with almost no warning and very few outward signs until you actually tried to communicate with him and realized he was in lockdown. So he wouldn't play around with the touching thing, right?
The feeling wasn't what John expected from Darlene's description, either. Not like an aphrodisiac or something, all hot desire coiling and pulsing unbearably in the pit of his stomach, but a much diffuse sense of rightness in his life and the world. He was so fucking thrilled to be here with Elliot, in this strange approximation of a home rather than sleeping rough, that it almost felt as though his whole life had fallen out as it had to bring him to this moment. This sort of contentment felt like it must have shone through his very skin, giving him an otherworldly glow. He'd never known anything like it.
And as he sat cross-legged on the couch with his back against the arm and his body facing Elliot, he found that he did want to touch and be touched. It was more about connection than sex, though, at least for now; he just wanted to be closer to Elliot, who seemed to have bottomless chasms all around him to keep him safe rather than just a personal bubble. Head tilted to one side, eyes big and curious with pupils so huge that they blacked out the slate blue of his irises, he shuffled closer to where Elliot sat and slid his fingertips lightly from Elliot's shoulder to his elbow. John had never, ever touched him before, not even by accident.]
[Elliot wasn't going to take the Molly. He wouldn't usually go for that kind of thing but some part of him had whispered 'what could it hurt' and he decided that there wasn't really much that could go wrong. He'd taken far worse after all and he trusted her.
John couldn't get into too much trouble either, at least he hoped. As it hit his system it was calming, leaving him relaxed on the couch, head dropped back against the back of the couch and staring at the ceiling. His eyes drifted to the side, eyes open wide there.
His eyes followed the other's arm as it moved toward him and a part of his mind recoiled a bit when he felt John's fingertips connect with him. If he hadn't been drugged he probably would have physically recoiled, removed himself from John's proximity and reestablished his personal bubble.
As it was, he stared at him instead, his eyes wide, unblinking and typically bloodshot.]
What are you doing? [He asked, not moving away or to stop him. He let it happen, another small voice telling him that he wanted it to happen again.]
[He didn't pull away. He was definitely watching very closely, so closely that it made John's heart pound and flutter all at once, but he didn't pull away. There was just that calm question, Elliot's voice an even slower, sleepier murmur than usual, which sent a pulse of warmth through John's veins. Was everything about Elliot more intense right now, from the laser focus of his eyes to the hypnotic rasp of his voice, or was that the Molly?
John didn't know, of course, but he was enraptured. He slid the fabric of Elliot's shirt between his fingertips, certain he could pick out and count every single thread in the fabric if asked. Then he finally looked up into Elliot's gaze, ready to answer him until the wrong words spilled out of his mouth.]
Can I kiss you? I really wanna kiss you. [Not at all when he meant to say, and not even what he'd been thinking of when he told Darlene that he would broach the topic of his attraction. But his eyes slid down to Elliot's mouth, the full upper lip which slightly overlapped the lower, and he couldn't deny what he'd said, either. He really did want to kiss Elliot, and had for awhile.]
Fiona is used to a packed house, between the kids, their friends, Frank, Kev and V, an extra head or two in the usual count isn't so strange at any given time. So, when she blearily makes her way downstairs in search of coffee, she's not all that surprised to find Elliot on her couch. She doesn't even really remember how they met, other than it had involved her randomly booking it to NYC on some drama-fueled freak out and a pretty desperate need to get away from all the insanity in her life for a day or two. Surprise meeting, and they'd clicked and...she kind of just adopted him in the two weeks she was there. And apparently, he'd taken her offer to come crash here any time seriously.
She doesn't even say anything as she walks by, just a brief pat to his shoulder on her way into the kitchen. She bangs her way around the kitchen getting the coffee ready and comes back to the living room a few minutes later, offering a mug to him as she sits down at the opposite end of the couch. Space is an important thing to Elliot, that much she's figured out. "Mornin'." she mumbles to him over the top of her cup.
Elliot shouldn't have really come here. He had things he was supposed to be doing that definitely couldn't be done when he was crashing on Fiona's couch but all the same he'd found himself running away here. And he felt just a little lighter getting out of the city.
The brief touch startled him slightly but not enough to get uncomfortable as sometimes unexpected touches did. He leaned on the arm of the couch, looking toward the kitchen and a half smile on his lips as he listened to all the banging. There was a domestic normalness to it that he wasn't the least bit accustomed to at all.
"Morning, thanks," he murmured, lifting the coffee that he had accepted from her and taking a drink.
She's quiet for a few minutes while she sips her coffee and actually wakes up a bit more, but Fiona can only handle so much quiet before she feels morr like she's drowning than at peace. Hazard of being a Gallagher, apparently.
"Yanno, I never actually expected you to do it," she says, waving a hand in his general direction, indicating the entirety of his presence in her living room. "Not that I mind or nothin'," she shrugs. "just thought it was one of those things people say cause it sounds good." She reached over and pushes his knee lightly with her foot. "What're ya doin' out here anyway, huh?"
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Rootaccess
Date: 2016-08-08 03:27 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2016-08-08 09:20 pm (UTC)i know we both know what happens, but it's the principal of it. we can't watch only 1 and 3. all or nothing.
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Date: 2016-08-08 09:23 pm (UTC)We could watch something else.
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Date: 2016-08-09 06:04 am (UTC)[That'd be pretty ironic, though, wouldn't it?]
i've already got my mind ready for it, i can't turn back now.
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Date: 2016-08-11 03:26 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2016-08-11 05:17 am (UTC)I'm trying to be normal. But everyone's talking, saying nothing. It's a droning buzz, buzz, buzz in my head.
There has to be more than empty people with empty words. I first saw videos of the Spider-Man online. Then he started getting on the news. It didn't take me very long before I was able to find enough information, Spider-Man's identity.
Peter Parker.
I can't decide if he wants to save the world or if he's overcompensating for the guilt he feels.
I don't feel much different from him.
"Peter," Elliot called, standing a few feet from Peter Parker, Spider-Man. It hadn't been hard to track which coffee shop he frequented and what times.
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Date: 2016-08-11 09:17 am (UTC)His boss didn't know the finer mechanics of photography, nor did he care when he had better shots of Spider-Man than any other photographer in the city could have provided him with. Hell, Peter could have probably been risking his life to get them and J. Jonah Jameson wouldn't have cared in the least. He was a man who only cared about the end result; the amount of copies that he would ultimately sell and how much money that would put into his pocket.
Which ultimately added up to how much money Peter got into his pocket. It was win/win for everyone. Sorta.
Peter looked up at the sound of his name, a curious expression on his face as he turned his head in search of someone he might have known calling for him. He didn't immediately recognize the voice, but he was in a little bit of a daze looking at the small screen of his laptop and could have very well distorted it inside of his mind. But, when his eyes met Elliot's, the curious expression dropped to confused. Maybe he was some intern from the Bugle sent to come and find him for something, or maybe there happened to be another guy named Peter sitting right behind him (highly unlikely, because in all of his life he hadn't ever met another person named Peter.)
"Uh... Me?" He gave another quick glance around, as though someone else named Peter would have it stamped across their forehead and he could just pass this hooded guy off onto them.
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Date: 2016-08-13 08:26 pm (UTC)There's a saying that 'honesty is the best policy' but I don't think that applies here.
"Hey," Elliot said, as if this were a completely normal situation. He sat down at the table across from Peter, pulling down his hood as he did. His hands rested on the flat surface as he stared at Peter as if he were trying to unravel some hidden code.
Say something. I need to say something else.
"I'm Elliot. I know you're Spider-man. I wanted to meet you."
Should I have said that much? Is he going to freak out right here in the middle of a coffee shop? I hope not. That wouldn't be good for him or me.
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From:Spoilers ahoy in this shit.
Date: 2016-08-18 05:46 am (UTC)That's what Leon had been sentenced to and he found it kind of amusing in its own way, the way the judge had read the verdict aloud 'sentenced to life.' because it sounded a lot more pleasant than it actually was. Like the existence that he'd been given was being taken away and replaced by another -- though, he supposed that going from a life on the outside to a life on the inside was almost an exact representation of that. Since then it had been the same thing over and over; meals at a scheduled time, exercise at a scheduled time, sleep at a scheduled time, everything a routine that quickly became monotonous.
He hadn't been sentenced to life, he'd been sentenced to sacrifice his freedom.
There was at least Elliot, though. The one piece of the machine that was different than all the rest, the thing that he felt was his sole purpose for being locked away in the first place -- he hadn't been told to protect Elliot, but it had been suggested in an anonymous letter that he keep an eye on the kid. Someone had to, he wouldn't have survived otherwise. So, they ate together, they watched the same set of moves on the basketball court together, they talked briefly about whatever television reruns that Leon got the opportunity to watch.
And sometimes they talked about the time before the four walls of the correctional facility located in downtown Brooklyn. They were almost one in the same, but where Leon was simply a pawn in a much bigger organization, he knew that Elliot had been the one calling the shots in his -- at least from what White Rose had told him, by way of secret codes that Leon would spend hours pouring over. Simple things like 'I hope all is well.' and 'The kids send their love' holding much deeper meanings that he racked his brain to decipher.
He was smarter than he looked, but hadn't that been why he was chosen?
"A letter always seemed to me like immortality because it is the mind alone without corporeal friend." Leon quoted one day, sitting across the metal table in the cafeteria from Elliot. " Emily Dickinson." He nodded slowly, as though it explained everything. "They sent me a letter today. I ain't got one since before you showed up."
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Date: 2016-08-19 03:57 am (UTC)"Is that all it said?" Elliot asked but he really wasn't sure if the letter was relevant to him, to his goals, to saving the world.
He was still going to save the world even if he was here now. Darlene was keeping things moving.
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Date: 2016-08-19 08:33 pm (UTC)And Elliot was on an completely different universe. Maybe if White Rose hadn't given him this task of protecting and watching over the other, he might have still been drawn to him. Leon didn't exactly find himself being pulled toward any of the other prisoners, that sort of gang mentality wasn't one that he subscribed to, especially not when he'd witnessed so many of them sneaking around behind their supposed 'brothers' backs. There wasn't any loyalty among the other convicts, at least not any that would have actually lasted and someone was only as good as they were useful to another person.
Leon preferred to sit back and watch the parasitic relationships unfold -- one person feeding off of another until they had sucked them dry and moved on to the next one.
"It's always weird code with them, y'know. Sounds like something big is about to go down, though. See, they've been talkin' 'bout this championship tournament thing for a while, games leading up to is. The teams they are facing up against are bigger, but not really skilled at the game. They've been cutting players, scouting for new ones." Leon shrugged, he didn't understand what it all meant, he'd been out of the game for too long to know what The Dark Army was planning anymore, and it was too dangerous to try and send any information through letters that may or may not have been read over before they reached him. "I dunno, man. It said to tell you, but I'm feelin' like you ain't got a clue about it either, right? Bein' in this joint too long'll fuck with your head, make you start forgettin' shit."
had the tag fucking written and my browser messed up :|
Date: 2016-08-28 01:34 pm (UTC)Leon still talked a lot. That was still good. He never had to say much, just listened. Now some of their conversations seemed to have more meaning, like this one. But, what Leon was saying bothered him a little, causing his brows to knit and he couldn't pinpoint exactly why it exactly why but there was something about that. It was unsettling.
It made him want to talk to Darlene.
Elliot shook his head. He didn't but it scratched something in his head. "I don't know."
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Date: 2016-08-18 05:57 am (UTC)Except, so much has also changed since she left. She was a completely different person now with more life experiences than most.
She's been doing her best to keep her head down, considering SHIELD was on her tail. It's late and Daisy found herself getting restless sitting in her van, so she went for a walk.
She felt a lot safer being out here by herself at night now that she could handle herself. Powers or not. Although, the powers helped quite a bit. Like right now when she came across a fight. If you could call it that. Some guy was getting the kick shit out of him by three much larger men.
Daisy doesn't even say anything to give them a heads up, she just uses her power to send them flying away from the poor guy. Once they are down, Daisy rushes over to the guy on the floor.]
Hey. You okay?
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Date: 2016-08-19 03:41 am (UTC)Shit.
He groaned, pushing himself back up to his feet and ignoring the wave of vertigo that followed.]
I'm alright, I'm fine. [He said though his vision was blurry and when he tried to look at her he was seeing double and even so the details weren't coming into focus quiet yet. Maybe he needed a few minutes before he was actually fine.]
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Date: 2016-08-19 03:44 am (UTC)[That's clearly sarcasm. He looks like he's about to pass out, which is why she hovered close to him. Hands outstretched in case he took a nose dive. Looking him over, her eyes landed on his face. Wait...]
Elliot?
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Date: 2016-08-19 04:57 am (UTC)She looked familiar.
She knew his name.
Why couldn't he remember hers? Then again he had forgotten his own sister.]
I know you...? [It was somewhere between a question and a statement.]
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Date: 2016-08-23 04:07 pm (UTC)[Goodwill day had come, because John really just needed more clothes. There was no more getting around it. Thanks to their laundry lessons, John didn't have to make this trip in Elliot's oversized sweatpants and t-shirt, instead dressed in the single change of clothes he kept in his backpack.
And of course he couldn't live with only these two nearly disintegrated outfits forever. But even though Elliot fed him, gave him a place to live, this whole getting new (to him) clothes thing was domestic and weird. Parents did that with their kids for back to school. John didn't even know if he should call Elliot a roommate or what, so how did you decide what was normal to do with people when you couldn't even categorize them?]
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Date: 2016-08-23 04:21 pm (UTC)[His customary black hood was pulled up over his head, smoking as they walked along the street to the Goodwill that was closest. It probably wouldn't have the classiest selection but it'd work.]
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Date: 2016-08-23 04:32 pm (UTC)You look so shady with your hood up like that. [He couldn't be sure if Elliot would even notice (or care much), because he reacted to almost everything so mildly, but most of the sting had gone out of John's words when he said things like that. Regardless of whether John liked someone or not, he was constantly ragging on them about one thing or another; the only real difference came in the tone, whether he sounded like he was tearing them down or teasing.]
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From:quietly hides the fooling around meme thread here
Date: 2016-08-25 03:22 am (UTC)Elliot was laid back, yeah, but John felt like if something freaked him out, it really freaked him out. He could go from zero to a hundred with almost no warning and very few outward signs until you actually tried to communicate with him and realized he was in lockdown. So he wouldn't play around with the touching thing, right?
The feeling wasn't what John expected from Darlene's description, either. Not like an aphrodisiac or something, all hot desire coiling and pulsing unbearably in the pit of his stomach, but a much diffuse sense of rightness in his life and the world. He was so fucking thrilled to be here with Elliot, in this strange approximation of a home rather than sleeping rough, that it almost felt as though his whole life had fallen out as it had to bring him to this moment. This sort of contentment felt like it must have shone through his very skin, giving him an otherworldly glow. He'd never known anything like it.
And as he sat cross-legged on the couch with his back against the arm and his body facing Elliot, he found that he did want to touch and be touched. It was more about connection than sex, though, at least for now; he just wanted to be closer to Elliot, who seemed to have bottomless chasms all around him to keep him safe rather than just a personal bubble. Head tilted to one side, eyes big and curious with pupils so huge that they blacked out the slate blue of his irises, he shuffled closer to where Elliot sat and slid his fingertips lightly from Elliot's shoulder to his elbow. John had never, ever touched him before, not even by accident.]
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Date: 2016-08-25 10:24 am (UTC)John couldn't get into too much trouble either, at least he hoped. As it hit his system it was calming, leaving him relaxed on the couch, head dropped back against the back of the couch and staring at the ceiling. His eyes drifted to the side, eyes open wide there.
His eyes followed the other's arm as it moved toward him and a part of his mind recoiled a bit when he felt John's fingertips connect with him. If he hadn't been drugged he probably would have physically recoiled, removed himself from John's proximity and reestablished his personal bubble.
As it was, he stared at him instead, his eyes wide, unblinking and typically bloodshot.]
What are you doing? [He asked, not moving away or to stop him. He let it happen, another small voice telling him that he wanted it to happen again.]
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Date: 2016-08-25 05:10 pm (UTC)John didn't know, of course, but he was enraptured. He slid the fabric of Elliot's shirt between his fingertips, certain he could pick out and count every single thread in the fabric if asked. Then he finally looked up into Elliot's gaze, ready to answer him until the wrong words spilled out of his mouth.]
Can I kiss you? I really wanna kiss you. [Not at all when he meant to say, and not even what he'd been thinking of when he told Darlene that he would broach the topic of his attraction. But his eyes slid down to Elliot's mouth, the full upper lip which slightly overlapped the lower, and he couldn't deny what he'd said, either. He really did want to kiss Elliot, and had for awhile.]
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From:idk what this rambling is. sry
From:WHAT IT IS SO FUCKING SWEET THAT HE STILL HASN'T HACKED HIM
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From:Phone tags.
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From:[no s2 spoilers, darling, plz&ty <3 I'll catch up soon, swear! haha]
Date: 2016-09-20 02:32 pm (UTC)She doesn't even say anything as she walks by, just a brief pat to his shoulder on her way into the kitchen. She bangs her way around the kitchen getting the coffee ready and comes back to the living room a few minutes later, offering a mug to him as she sits down at the opposite end of the couch. Space is an important thing to Elliot, that much she's figured out. "Mornin'." she mumbles to him over the top of her cup.
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Date: 2016-09-25 06:28 pm (UTC)The brief touch startled him slightly but not enough to get uncomfortable as sometimes unexpected touches did. He leaned on the arm of the couch, looking toward the kitchen and a half smile on his lips as he listened to all the banging. There was a domestic normalness to it that he wasn't the least bit accustomed to at all.
"Morning, thanks," he murmured, lifting the coffee that he had accepted from her and taking a drink.
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Date: 2016-09-27 04:48 am (UTC)"Yanno, I never actually expected you to do it," she says, waving a hand in his general direction, indicating the entirety of his presence in her living room. "Not that I mind or nothin'," she shrugs. "just thought it was one of those things people say cause it sounds good." She reached over and pushes his knee lightly with her foot. "What're ya doin' out here anyway, huh?"
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