meadowlarklogs | 𝚐𝚘𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚊 𝚋𝚘𝚡 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚙𝚞𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚏𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗

（ he stops short of putting his hands over his ears, which he's not sure would work in a fucking dream anyway. now that he's got the knack of things, there's no immediate weather-related changes either to impress upon his company just how deeply uncomfortable he is with the praise. and aidan gives it out so fucking freely. devora's fucking tits. ）

Can you — just stop. Please.

( he does. raises a hand also to--wave it off. praise is easy. real praise is hard as shit. but there's nobody here to hear him say shit to jai, and aidan --isn't lying, here. wanting to feel shit generally includes feelings. )

You're the one who wanted to touch hands, asshole.

I don't regret it.

（ as fucked up as he's feeling right now, he wants to drive that home. the last fucking thing he wants aidan to feel is rejected.

he's a lot more fidgety in the dream than he is in real life, so he sort of lifts a hand up, flexes his fingers into a closed fist and then then forces himself to open them so he can reach out. he curls his fingers around aidan's bare wrist. he's braced for the empathy bond but it doesn't come, and as if emboldened by that he tugs his hand up and over to him. stoops a little, to brush his mouth across the back of aidan's hand. not quite a kiss, but — not entirely anything else, either. it's small, and soft, and romantic in a way he would have scoffed at years ago. but it still feels right. ）

( it's the stupid kind of shit he would have laughed off before. would have thrown off as absolutely nothing, made fun of someone for. but it's jai and stupid little things just hit different when he knows how hard jai is trying for it.

the tips of his ears flush; just a soft pink, barely noticeable. his hand stays slack in jai's grip, lets him move aidan however he damn well pleases. )

Better knock that shit out, man. You've got my heart all aflutter.

Do you want it or not?

（ it's hard enough to reach out. he doesn't want to do it for nothing. ）

( don't tell me nice things, jai says. do you want it, he asks. where the fuck is the middle ground between these two points. aidan's knuckles twitch, contemplating where the fuck that line is that he's not supposed to cross and how far he's supposed to push it. )

Yes? ( wait. ) Yes. Heart aflutter, generally a good thing.

（ he traces his thumb against aidan's knuckles to quiet down that tick. he's trying not to think about how long the contact's gone on. it's easier in a dream. barely even counts for anything, and he's so irate with himself for taking that tack that he slips his hand down the inside of aidan's wrist, down to his elbow, trailing his fingers along the skin, across old scars. forcing himself to do it while there's no empathy bond, so aidan can't feel the way he's fighting down nausea. because it's not — it's not fucking him, it's not ever about him, it has nothing to do with him. it's not his fault that jai's so screwed up that the idea of touching people — even ones that care about him — fucks him up this bad.

being the kestrel is all about finding things you can overcome. this isn't any different, it's just something he needs to do. for himself as much as aidan. ）

I mean, you're also describing atrial flutter, which can be a serious medical condition. We should be careful.

（ his attention flicks upwards, to gauge aidan's expression. see if this is something he should draw back from or continue on with. it's easy to act smooth about it, but that's — a kinvaio thing, it doesn't belong to jai artesio, the boy he was before dass, before everything. the boy he still sometimes feels like when he's out of his depth, over his head, drowning in things he's aware of but barely understands. ）

( touching like this is nothing. aidan grew up all about casual touches. all about getting a little too much into others' spaces. about letting others into his space. bodies draped over one another, finding a nice person to fuck when he got the urge. giving a loose shrug and an alright when one of the others under vyres felt frisky. he's kept a bit more to himself over the last few years, but he's never been shy about shit like this.

bodies are just bodies. skin's skin. this is nothing special. except it does mean something to jai, it means something to aidan because of it. he stops breathing for a moment, has to remember to start up again when jai speaks up. )

Promise my heart can take it.

( voice loose, airy. he's trying a little too hard to sound casual because he doesn't want to give jai a reason to stop. it doesn't match the flush, but it's fine. he's fine. he's got this. this is basically second base by jai standards and aidan isn't fucking it up. )

I know. You're tough.

（ he's had some time, some space to think about it. just because he'd never considered aidan in that way doesn't mean it's off the table, it's just. he's been so focused for so long that it wasn't even on his mind. now that aidan's laid it all out, it's got him thinking about it.

the problem is, he's not even sure he remembers how to want someone in that way. the rush, the tangle, the heat — it's caught up in too many other things in his head. the only time he's touched people in the last few years has been the result of fighting or injury, or playing nice at one of gal's functions that he has to attend for propriety's sake. shaking hands, touches on the shoulder. tolerating people being in his space. it's always hard and he's always a fucking wreck after.

but that trust has always been there, with aidan. there was a reason jai went to him over gal when he got hurt. and now that he's examining it in a different context, there was probably a reason that touch always made his pulse jump.

he reaches up tentatively to brush aidan's dumb curly fucking hair back a little from his temple, because dreamscapes apparently don't care that you've recently had your head shaved, and then he just. leans in. not to kiss him, though it crossed his mind he could, but just to press his forehead to aidan's and let that be enough for a moment. just that. casual touch, breathing the same air. ）

( he isn't tough, though. aidan's real damn good at faking, it's his number one best skill. but he's not tough. stubborn. an asshole with a mouth that doesn't quit. an idiot, most days. but aidan would never use the word tough. he almost breaks, here. jai has his hands on him and he knows better than to reach out but he almost does.

almost.

and then jai's leaning over him, pressing their foreheads together and aidan can feel his breath against his lips. for a dream, this shit is stupidly realistic and it's fucking with him. he wants suddenly, inexplicably. wants to reach out his hand and brush fingers through jai's hair, wants to hold onto him, feel him. but he knows how fast a hand going for the side of someone's head can turn bad. how easy it'd be to fist his fingers into jai's hair, yank hard and with purpose. he could throw a leg over jai's hips, try to pull him off balance. he doesn't want to, fuck. but jai is used to fighting, he's used to hands being used as blunt weapons, and the absolute last thing aidan wants to do here is give him any reason to back off.

instead he tips his chin back just a bit. presses that much closer. stays absolutely, perfectly pliant under jai. the ground isn't the most comfortable place to lay down, but it isn't terrible, either. manageable. )

Jai, ( it's whispered soft, barely more than air leaving his lungs. ) can I touch you? Just your cheek, with my fingers. ( this is already a lot. he won't be too disappointed if he's turned down; aidan never expected to get this far, let alone--anything else. )

（ jai groans, and then just. lightly butts his head against aidan's.

lightly. barely more than a resigned, frustrated thunk, the way a student might drop their head against a desk at the whisper of homework. like the sort of amicable bonk you'd get in the midst of awkward teenage fumbling when two people aim for a kiss from different angles.

in an irate murmur, ）

Oh my fucking God, AK. Are you still going to be asking me that when I've got my hand down your pants? What did I fucking tell you? Stop handling me. Stop asking me. It's fine, you're fine, I'm not fragile. You wanna touch me, just fucking touch me and I'll — （ a muscle twitches in his jaw. ） deal with it.

（ his expression softens a little, as if that rant just burnt out all his fucking annoyance and left him with nothing else but affection, and he reaches for aidan's hand. puts it very deliberately against his side, holding it there by the wrist. ）

It's nice that you're — fuck, checking in? But I don't need you to ask. I've got better self control than that, I'm not going to fucking — hit you, man.

（ it's easier in a way to imply that's what it is. that aidan's worried jai's gonna dropkick him off a cliff rather than concerned about his. safety. wellbeing. consent. any of that shit. ）

( yeah, deal with it isn't great. but it's fine. jai brings the attitude back into their little heart-to-heart dream touch session which is nice, comforting. and aidan snorts, fingers twitching against jai's side before they curl in against him. )

But if you do hit me, I'm making sure it's completely your fucking fault so I can guilt trip you with it later. I bruise easy, man. ( though really, ) Guess it'd be real weird if bruises transferred out of whatever the hell this is. I'm not taking any chances.

( aidan does not actually bruise easy. but he'll use it as an excuse, since jai's using the threat of violence as one. it's fine. jai has one hand, so aidan lifts his free one. no sudden movements, just presses curled fingers soft against jai's jawline. murmurs soft, teasing, ) When you get your hands down my pants, I'm going to have a whole other set of questions for you. As in, Oh god, Jai, please, can I blow you, you're so good, please fuck me, holy shit and whatever else suits the mood.

( there's a grin on his lips but it's softer than usual. lacks the edge aidan's usual snark carries. )

Has anyone ever told you you talk way too much?

（ he can solve that handily enough. ... mouthily enough. whatever. he drops his hand away from where he'd been holding aidan's against his side (no healing ribs in a dream) once he takes the initiative to hold on and just leans in to kiss him. it's obvious he's out of practice, clumsy and unsure. he can fake suave, he can fake calm, he can cover up the nausea and the crawling revulsion, but he can't fake experience he doesn't have. he hasn't kissed anyone since dass, and this isn't following their holding pattern of screaming at each other and then fucking to make up after the dust settled.

he just tries for gentle. something soft and drawn out, deepened by the drag of his tongue against aidan's bottom lip. ）

( multiple times over the course of several years, but jai takes away his ability (and want) to specify by leaning down that last bit of space and kissing him. he wants to ask if all of this is because it's easier, in a dream. less about the physicality of it, more about the action behind it. but his better judgement says it's probably best to keep his mouth shut about it, because jai is going for it and he doesn't want to--disrupt any resolve he's managed to pull out that says this is okay.

he can't find any sign of strain, nothing that says aidan should be putting a stop to this. but it's--definitely moving from zero to sixty which. throws him off, even if it's aidan's default speed. because it definitely isn't jai's.

the hand pressed to jai's side drops, moves to rest on the grass above his head palm up. because his other hand--uncurls, cupping jai's cheek against his palm as he pulls back out of the kiss, takes a breath before pulling jai back down into another. just a gentle press of mouths, one soft peck melting into another. )

（ even with implicit permission, aidan still drops his hand away and jai makes a frustrated sound only faintly muffled by that kiss. it pisses him off for a variety of reasons, least of all the fact that he's steeled himself against it, done the fucking work, and aidan's still acting like it isn't okay.

fine. fucking fine.

he reaches up and just pins that wrist down, because if he isn't going to touch him then jai's going to make it so he can't.

funny story: you don't actually need to breathe in dreams, but your mind is so used to the action it wants to intimate it anyway, so although the kissing continues he eventually breaks away and just leans his head against aidan's shoulder a moment to catch up with. everything.

it is easier in a dream. it's different. everything's fuzzy around the edges. it's intimacy rather than action. and this isn't any harder than letting aidan patch him up as the kestrel. logically, it should be easier, seeing as how there's no blood involved, but if he was to be honest then the stress levels are about the same.

he butts his head against aidan's cheek, less nuzzling at him and more just conveying nearness the way he knows how. ）

God you're going to wake up with the worst fucking hard-on.

( listen he already--has one hand on jai, that's enough. one hand against his face, where it's safe and can't cause any issues but also where he can feel like he's touching something. aidan wouldn't consider himself needy by any measure but he likes the contact.

jai pins him down and he huffs out a laugh against his mouth, tilts his head back against the grass when he leans in against his shoulder. it's--stupidly innocent, stupidly gentle for assholes like them but aidan likes it. likes how stupid simple touches like this actually do light up something inside him. jai settles in, and aidan opts to use his free hand to--run fingers along the side of jai's head, through hair. )

Probably. Sorry your curse of impotence doesn't carry over to the physical world. ( teasing. but it's fine, he can just--jump in their tiny assed little shower. aidan isn't worried about it. isn't the first time, won't be the last. ) So we're trying this? You and me.

（ he shifts, rolls to one side and flops onto the grass, unceremoniously pinning aidan's hand/wrist/whatever to the ground with his shoulder instead. are they? it's so easy to exist like this. no empathy bond, no fucking care for what these implants that got put in their head might be picking up. it's about as simple and easy as things would get back home — because like it or not the kestrel is who he is no matter where he is, and aidan seems okay with that.

it would be so easy to say yes. there's a part of him that wants to. instead: ）

I don't know.

（ he's tired of being out here, so with a moment's focus their surroundings shift. they're in the bed in the guesthouse at shorehold, his memory supplies the luxury of the mattress, the high-threadcount sheets, the heavy blankets that are neither too warm nor too cool in any temperature. he looks at a point on the far wall where the shadows twist and catch. ）

I'd like to try. But that empathy shit — fuck, I don't know if I can get past that, man. It's a lot. You aren't always going to like how I'm feeling about... a fucking lot of things, Aidan.

Edited 2021-02-11 23:05 (UTC)

The feeling will be mutual.

( he doesn't have as many--surface level issues as jai has, most his shit's a little deeper. or. well. less deeper, more repressed. aidan doesn't have three years of therapy under his belt but he knows he's got problems. shit he's definitely not dealing with now or literally any time soon. like, good on jai for learning how to manage himself better and recognize what's going on and whatever, aidan's happy for him. but it's not something he's going to do.

the bed's fucking nice though. way better than the dirt, soft and comfortable and aidan momentarily distracts himself by running his fingers over the soft blankets. grabs hold of one of the pillows and starts turning himself over, tugging at the arm jai has pinned down in the process. )

I haven't been in a relationship in a hell of a long time. I'm not good at it. Probably'll fuck it up long before you do with whatever feelings you have that I won't like.

（ he. sighs. claps both hands against his face and drags his palms down over his eyes. he stares a moment determinedly through the blinds of his fingers, and then blows out another longer, deeper sigh than the first. ）

I don't fucking care if you're bad at being in a relationship. That's not the kind of shit I'm talking about. I just need you to understand that if I'm letting you touch me it's because I want you to.

（ god he does not want to fucking talk about this, but he knows, in a way, it's like. setting a bone. putting a dislocation back into place. you have to do those fucking things you don't want to do to move forward. he takes another breath that shivers a bit, because of course he's fucking stressed out in the dream, and of course that makes him feel cold. anxiety attacks mean poor circulation, because your body's fighting to supply blood to your organs. ）

Whatever else is fucking — going on under the hood. No one fucking gets close to me unless I'm okay with it. Okay? I'm probably still going to make you feel like fucking shit, and if you don't think you can handle it that's fine. I won't hold it against you.

( what pisses him off is that jai had this bed in his noggin this whole time and instead of a nice comfortable mattress he had aidan laying on the goddman dirt. like. holy shit. the pillow even feels soft as a cloud. smells nice also. it's enough of a distraction that it delays the irritated scowl that spreads across his face when jai. brings up the touch thing again. )

You know fucking and a relationship are two separate things, right? Like. Shit that usually probably goes together but doesn't always. Plenty of people aren't into it. And I'm not saying that's your thing, ( jai has a complicated thing, aidan isn't digging into it because jai can do or say whatever the hell he wants. ) just that I'm, again, not expecting jack shit. And I don't care about that part. I knew you preferred your distance a long ass time ago, it didn't stop me from liking you. And--shit.

( rolling over onto his side on the bed, so he can get an arm under this pillow and relax, yes. )

You could kick my ass damn near effortlessly. I know I only get close to you because you want it. Or because you're tolerating it, or whatever reason you've decided to go with on a day. Whatever. I know if my being close was getting to you enough you wanted out, you'd take it. Because you know I'm not going to get pissed over it or offended or whatever other weird bullcrap people throw out there.

（ he's never really had anyone give him this much fucking... space before. unconditional tolerance. it's why keeps trying to drive home the negatives, because by and large it makes him so deeply fucking uncomfortable to just. have someone look at all the shit he's done and all the shit he's in and just go all right.

everything just fucking hurts, and he rubs the heel of his hand down against the spot where havoc impaled him, and he doesn't know if he wants to fucking cry or punch something or both, because he's had those moments too. ）

Fine. Then we're trying it. And you don't get to fucking bitch about being bad at relationships.

( jai has laid here and bitched about all the things he's terrible at, why isn't aidan allowed to bitch, too. selfish much? rolling over on the bed so he's facing jai instead of facing away from him, aidan raises a hand. raises a finger between each point. )

I'm unreliable. I'll probably lie to you several times without even meaning to. I've cheated on someone but like, accidentally? Miscommunication. I'll take the blame for it, 'cause that shit doesn't just go one way. And chances are high I'll disappear for several days and show up high as shit hanging half inside the window at some point because I don't know how to quit without losing my fucking mind.

（ being lied to generally doesn't bother him, until you wrap that up into the next thing aidan says. his expression pinches a little at the edges. ）

I've got jealousy issues. I don't like to share.

（ poly is — eh? all the rage down in the hollies, he supposes, and he isn't against it in theory, but he still knows that about himself. sharing — fucking anything is hard, much less the person he's dating. ）

I don't care about the drugs. If you're worried, I'll find the Telaxone equivalent here and make sure we've got a stock.

You've got your shit together. I just don't want to be the reason you fall off of it.

( he doesn't want to imply he even has that kind of power over jai but he's seen it happen enough times for it to be a concern. aidan rolls himself back over onto his back, moves to sit up. )

I worked around Rii for years, I'll figure shit out. Or quit and stay off, this time. ( or at least try to. maybe. ) And we can be exclusive.

I'm not going to fall off anything. Trust me, I've thought about how much easier it would be to pop burners when I go out and get my fucking teeth knocked in, but I'm not fucking going back there. You'd hate who I am on that shit.

（ he does. still, after all this time. he sits up when aidan does, sort of a reflex, the desire not to be in a more vulnerable position when someone else shifts theirs. then he brings his knees up, wraps his arms around them, chin resting on the upward jut of the back of his hand. ）

If you want to quit, I'll support you. If you don't, I'll pick you up off the floors.

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