[The initial contact is nothing new. Dick has created a point of connection so often now, that even when he doesn't always know the cause- the feeling of Fitz' most common emotions, sliding and curling around his own, stop feeling so other after their initial appearance. Confusion, surprise, a soft fondness, pain- he's felt them before, and when the bittersweet, confused feeling comes through, Dick doesn't think much of the instinctual returning the squeeze on his hand, pushing fondness and assurance, confidence through the bond in return, past the curiousity, the frustration, and sorrow- making it the most prominent feeling to get across.
It's care without pushing, extending the courtesy Fitz has always given to him. To speak only when he wants- to keep a measure of privacy. It's something Dick has sunk into more than once- not having to be alone, while being given space to process at his own pace. It's something he cares more about imparting to Fitz- that he isn't, that sharing isn't a perquisite to ensure that he doesn't have to be.
He switches his focus, once Fitz starts to speak, when he feels a sharp thread of focus shifting across the bond, redirecting what he's feeling and honing it towards his actions] I'm with you on that so far.
[That it's to be treated as an instinctual part of him, the same as breathing, as knowing where to shift his footing to maintain balance. That it's to want- it makes sense on the scope of a defence mechanism as well. Most people instinctively want to live- to help those they love, to not feel pain. Nothing Dick has wanted, has felt, has created any change. He ruthlessly stamps down that frustrated, little feeling bubbling that suggests it's not going to be that simple, and turns his attention to picking out Fitz' feelings from his own, and watching the trajectory as it occurs.
Initially- it's nothing he hadn't expected to feel. The determination, the tension in the hand that Dick is holding, fingertips pressing firm into the back of his hand, muscles straining in his shoulders, in his jaw. The soft thrill of tossing the stone outward, and watching something part of you take shape, created out of nothing but your own will- and then it all turns slightly sideways.
Becomes so much more, that he's glad he'd taken his hand. Would have dropped it at the size of the portal, and the quick ejection- causing debris to scatter. Would have placed more space between him and the exit point, and waited for the dust to settle. As it is, he squeezes tightly and jerks at the surprising sound, at Fitz' own startled surprised coming through loud and clear- verbally and across the bond, and the body crashing into his own.
Without thinking, his other hand comes up to Fitz' side, steadying him, feet slightly sliding further apart, in an effort to maintain their balance. His eyes have widened slightly, and a startled laugh huffs out against the shell of Fitz' ear]
Well- you bloody well did something, didn't you? If- [He sounds slightly breathless, slight awe colouring the corners of the words] If you were trying to show off, I was already impressed.
[The extra power behind that didn't give him any info that a smaller showing wouldn't have, babe]
no subject
It's care without pushing, extending the courtesy Fitz has always given to him. To speak only when he wants- to keep a measure of privacy. It's something Dick has sunk into more than once- not having to be alone, while being given space to process at his own pace. It's something he cares more about imparting to Fitz- that he isn't, that sharing isn't a perquisite to ensure that he doesn't have to be.
He switches his focus, once Fitz starts to speak, when he feels a sharp thread of focus shifting across the bond, redirecting what he's feeling and honing it towards his actions] I'm with you on that so far.
[That it's to be treated as an instinctual part of him, the same as breathing, as knowing where to shift his footing to maintain balance. That it's to want- it makes sense on the scope of a defence mechanism as well. Most people instinctively want to live- to help those they love, to not feel pain. Nothing Dick has wanted, has felt, has created any change. He ruthlessly stamps down that frustrated, little feeling bubbling that suggests it's not going to be that simple, and turns his attention to picking out Fitz' feelings from his own, and watching the trajectory as it occurs.
Initially- it's nothing he hadn't expected to feel. The determination, the tension in the hand that Dick is holding, fingertips pressing firm into the back of his hand, muscles straining in his shoulders, in his jaw. The soft thrill of tossing the stone outward, and watching something part of you take shape, created out of nothing but your own will- and then it all turns slightly sideways.
Becomes so much more, that he's glad he'd taken his hand. Would have dropped it at the size of the portal, and the quick ejection- causing debris to scatter. Would have placed more space between him and the exit point, and waited for the dust to settle. As it is, he squeezes tightly and jerks at the surprising sound, at Fitz' own startled surprised coming through loud and clear- verbally and across the bond, and the body crashing into his own.
Without thinking, his other hand comes up to Fitz' side, steadying him, feet slightly sliding further apart, in an effort to maintain their balance. His eyes have widened slightly, and a startled laugh huffs out against the shell of Fitz' ear]
Well- you bloody well did something, didn't you? If- [He sounds slightly breathless, slight awe colouring the corners of the words] If you were trying to show off, I was already impressed.
[The extra power behind that didn't give him any info that a smaller showing wouldn't have, babe]