[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.]
Like 5'9. [Elliot answered, glancing at John and then the clothes over his arm.
He had some archaic appliance in his hand that he actually wasn't even sure what it did. Maybe it was some ancient toaster device of some sort. He set it back on the shelf, his eyes moving over the other items there, a completely eclectic selection and nothing that he was actually considering taking home.]
Five-nine. [John repeated dully, as if Elliot had just gravely disappointed him.] Not even in the double digit inches, huh. Great. I'm a goddamn midget.
[How had John's thoughts even gotten to that point? Maybe Elliot would never find out, because he stormed away with the same strong sense of purpose in his strides. He had to buy something, even if it all fit strangely.
He kept the selection minimal out of respect for Elliot's budget (which he didn't actually know, but his choice of neighborhood said a lot), just the absolute basics for the season, since he probably wouldn't be able to pack much around for the future when he left. Deep down, he still didn't really trust that this set up would last very long, so he refused to plan even as far ahead as a month or two. The most important find of the day was a pair of boots that were somehow at the perfect point of being broken in but without having lost most of their tread; John would have killed a man for them several times over in the past few years.]
Done. [He appeared behind Elliot again, his few items lining the bottom of a cart.] Find anything cool?
Peter practically snorted in laughter at the idea of being respected. Sure, there were plenty of people in the city who saw Spider-Man as the hero that it needed, someone to do what NYPD just wasn't doing and someone to speak out for those who couldn't for themselves. But, there was also a large amount of people who thought that fighting crime was best left to New York's finest and that Spider-Man was doing nothing more than meddling in places that he had no business being involved in to begin with. What were to happen if all these people that he came up against thought he wasn't anything more than some troublesome kid with a complex.
Peter wanted to help make a difference, but he just couldn't fit himself into the plan that Elliot was laying out for him -- it seemed he'd end up more than a hinderance than an actual ally.
"Have you read the papers lately, dude? There's a lot more people who think I'm a menace to society than somebody who's doing any good. And I got a feeling that these E Corp guys are somewhere in that group, too." Peter shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "You want somebody that people will actually respect and listen to, then you probably need to be calling up Captain America or IronMan. I'd be of better use to you as Peter Parker, and that's not really saying much."
[Elliot looked after John when the other left, raising a brow and then shrugging. He shoved his hands back into his pockets as he walked slowly along the wall, in search of that magical item find that might just happen if he wasn't looking too hard.
But alas, he'd found nothing and had been tempted to drop into one of the recliners that were for sale when John came up by him again.]
Oh yeah, tons. I'll be good for awhile. [His cart was not full of tons by a longshot, but he had at least two of everything he'd need to allow for laundry days, and even a decent set of pyjamas.
Frowning, he blew a stream of breath at one of the long sheafs of golden brown hair that perpetually hung in his face, only to have it fall right back into his face as anyone could've guessed.]
I gotta get this shit cut sometime, but that's not life or death.
[Elliot looked at the cart and his brow furrowed but he didn't say anything. They could always make another trip to get more clothes later. It's not like he was the type to get a shit load of clothes himself. His wardrobe was pretty one dimensional.]
Could do that soon... [Elliot said, half mumbling and he moved past John to walk toward the checkout, about ready to be out of the too bright store and outside where he could smoke again.]
[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.]
[John shrugged, raking the hair out of his face with a hand, but it was too clean now to stay in place when he did that and just flopped right back again.]
Fuck. Hair's so annoying. You've got the right idea. [He glanced pointedly at Elliot's hair, nearly shaved clean off but for the strip down the middle; kind of a weird hairstyle, but he could see the practicality of it now.
Not all that interested in seeing the total of what he'd bought - he was an odd blend of opportunistic and proud, the sort of person who felt better about stealing than being given charity like this - John stood back and out of the way while Elliot bought his new clothes. Not until he'd watched a financial exchange happen from a great enough distance to miss the numbers did he move closer again, grabbing the bags to carry himself.]
Thanks, Dad. [Just one more little game to play with the volunteers, this time the cashier, who tried to hide the massive double-take she did at the exchange and failed. John snorted loudly, then led the way out of the store.]
[The whole experience was strange and he decided he didn't particularly like Molly. It made his brain war at himself, part of him pushing against the affect of the drug stubbornly gave it a big of an uncomfortable feeling even if they never made it to the surface. Even if on the surface he looked calm, amicable.
John's fingers on his shirt, his eyes meeting his made him push harder against the effects but to no avail. He was pliant and relaxed and the part of him that had given into the affects of the drug was in control.]
Okay. [Elliot agreed, he hadn't meant to but it happened and once it did he knew that he wanted to kiss him too. He shouldn't want to. He was way too young and he was like a kid he was taking care of. That wasn't right.
But if it was John kissing him then it was okay. It wasn't Elliot starting it, if anything it was John taking advantage of him. Yeah.]
[Elliot couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips as the other complained again about his hair and couldn't seem to get it to cooperate. Even so, he didn't say anything else about it as he took the clothes to be rang up.
The purchases didn't really add up to much given that it was Goodwill and in general everything there was dirt cheap. He paid in cash and then John's comment made him look up confused. Elliot shrugged and left the store too. Apparently John just liked fucking with people and it fucked with Elliot a bit too. He pulled out a smoke the moment he stepped outside, lighting it as they started to walk back the way they came.]
"I said one way or another," Elliot repeated himself which he didn't like to do often. His fingers drummed on the table quickly, this was the difficult part. Getting him to agree to help them. If he were honest they needed someone like him but he definitely didn't need a group of hackers and it would probably get a whole other set of problems for him if he did get involved with Fsociety.
"I don't need you...for that. I need someone to help protect the people I'm working with." That was the truth, the motive behind trying to get some 'hero' behind the cause that was wildly illegal even if it was the right thing to do. They were playing a dangerous game and they weren't prepared for every part of it.
"I told you I did..." Elliot muttered. "They're right in front of you," he added, though she hadn't seemed to be paying the least bit of attention when he set them down on the coffee table. Why was she reading that stupid magazine anyway? She definitely didn't get it from his apartment.
He walked further into the apartment and set his bag on his bed before going to his computer, booting it up. He rubbed the back of his neck as he glanced back at her.
[It was happening. It was really, actually happening. John didn't have the presence of mind to be nervous, of course, but a sharp little tingle did start to skitter up and down his spine as he shifted into a crouch for a better angle. The prickle of Elliot's closely-shaved hair felt like tiny needles under his fingertips as John tried to decide where to settle his hands, starting with the back of Elliot's head and then shifting to his face, palm cupped along his sharp jawline.
Maybe he was a bit nervous, even while flying this high.
A very strong part of him wanted to sling a leg over Elliot's lap and straddle him, but he managed to overrule it, deciding maybe he should wait until he'd seen the reaction to the kiss; pinning someone down was a pretty major violation of their personal bubble, after all. So at last, he leaned in and kissed Elliot with his mouth already slightly open, a tiny noise escaping him the moment their lips made contact.]
[It was weird. Elliot knew he didn't like being touched but he found himself not minding this as much. There was still that aversion twisting in his brain but it'd been quieted, some wall let down to allow this to happen for now.
Too much at once might have knocked the tenuous balance in his acceptance even with the drugs helping dull his instincts to keep people at a physical and emotional arm's length away. But analyzing what he was doing, what he was allowing himself to do slipped out of conscious thought as John's lips pressed against his own.
Elliot should've been thinking that John was way to young to be kissing but Elliot hadn't ever been much for following rules all that well. And John was kissing him, not the other way around. And it felt good. It felt really good. The tingling sensation spread over his lips throughout his nerves and he was sure it was the affect of the Molly but he felt it to the ends of his fingertips.
After seconds that felt like minutes, his hand slid up, brushing over the other's cheek and then into his hair and that sparked a whole new set of sensations.]
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."
[Those seconds felt just as long to John, because he had no idea if Elliot would kiss back or if this would be a totally failed experiment, one that would probably haunt his memory to the end of his days even if he did have the excuse of their both being high. He never took any sort of rejection well, which was a massive part of why he held himself so far from others emotionally.
But then Elliot started to respond, first with his mouth and then with that gentle touch, which sent shivers through John's entire body: pleasure, yes, but with something else layered just underneath. He let out a soft, high-pitched sound and pressed closer to Elliot, tongue nudging demandingly at his lips, one hand still scratching at his short hair while the other settled on his shoulder for John to anchor himself.
He wanted to pause this moment and live in in forever, but he wanted to know what might come next even more.]
[Brows knitted together, Daisy looks up when their food is brought to them. She thanks the waitress and waits until she's out of ear shot.]
....Yeah? I feel like I'm missing something. I mean, it's been like that for as long as we've been alive.
[She got into hacking to try and find her parents and while she considered herself a hacker. A great one, actually. There was parts of hacker culture she didn't quite get.]
Page 4 of 7