[ Just as Locus is about to give a rebuttal to the comment about Felix being weak, he continues and Locus shuts his mouth so quickly his teeth clink against one another. He almost wishes he had interrupted because he doesn't really want to hear this. But, it's not his call to make. Felix has been suffering with this since they arrived. And while when they had first arrived, Locus felt it was justified. That Felix should feel some kind of way over what happened so that he would think before doing things.
Funny how time changes things.
His fingers twitch and it takes a certain measure of control to not jerk Felix up by his neck for saying something so stupid. He's already feeling annoyed over this even though he knows he doesn't really have the right to. He shifts his hand to Felix's neck, squeezing, massaging. Even though he still wants to throttle him a little. Locus takes his time before he replies because he feels like if he opens his mouth too soon, he's going to call Felix an idiot. ]
It's not a weakness.
[ It's not. Or every soldier out there who's been through a war would be weak. They've all seen and done things they likely never imagined. It doesn't make them weak that some things just can't be overcome.
Locus sighs heavily, his hand lifting to rub over his face before he sets it back on Felix's head to resume carding his fingers through his hair. ]
That isn't going to help. It's just going to make it worse. [ He pauses, swallows, his tone softens, ] I don't want you to die, either.
[ Ignorance is bliss. Felix has no idea how close he comes to getting throttled for sharing his feelings on the matter of his death. To him, the massaging motion of Locus' hand just feels good. Relaxing. If he closes his eyes and focuses on it, the rhythmic pattern of it starts to affect his breathing.
Deep and long. In and out.
Felix doesn't know he closed his eyes until Locus speaks again and he opens them. It means something to hear him say that he isn't being weak. He doesn't sort it out now, but it settles inside him somewhere, sanding down a rough edge or two that he's been carrying for years.
And that's enough. More than he ever expected to hear. But Locus isn't finished and for a moment, it becomes hard to breathe all over again.
He's still got Locus' hand caught in his own. There's probably something he should say to that admission, but he doesn't know what it is. So he pulls his hand over and presses a kiss to the back of Locus' knuckles. ]
Guess I need to come up with a different plan. [ Because if Locus doesn't want him to die, if he actually wants him to stay, then hitting the ground isn't an option. Much, much softer, he adds; ] Thank you.
[ To be fair, it's more about Felix saying he wants to throw himself off a building here that has Locus wanting to throttle him. Just a little. Not about his feelings. They're supposed to be trying to handle those more often instead of repressing them. Not that it's an easy thing to do. And it's not like either one of them can hold a grudge over how they feel.
Maybe one day they'll talk about other things more and Locus will find out why Felix thinks he's weak for showing emotion. Maybe it's for the same reasons Locus didn't like to show his. But, they always seemed different in that regard. Locus didn't want to be human. Felix seemed to accept that he is.
He looks down at Felix in the dark after that kiss to his hand comes and doesn't say anything right away. This is already more intimate than they've ever really been and it just involves talking. It's just not something they do. Or maybe it's becoming something that they do. He doesn't know. Things have been strange and changing since their arrival. He lets out a soft breath and shifts to lean back a bit more to get comfortable. Slowly, his hand still moves through Felix's hair. ]
[ It's true. His plans usually suck. Every once in a while he falls ass backwards into a good one, but for the most part, they're a mess. Probably because he never really plans. He gets an idea and he follows it, without giving the consequences more than a cursory glance. If that. A lot of the time, he doesn't even bother with that.
As raw as he feels, he doesn't take offense to what Locus says. He knows it isn't a condemnation, even if it is true. ]
That's why we usually stick to yours.
[ His thumb rubs over Locus' hand, the fingers of the other fiddling with the sheet covering his leg. He isn't planning to say anything else, content to lapse into silence and just be alive for a moment. So of course, he finds himself blurting out; ]
I missed you. All the years we were— [ At odds. Not themselves. Too caught up in all the shit to remember or care about who they were. ] Nothing's ever free, right? It's worth it. [ Dying. ] Having you back.
[ All right. Now Locus is really out of his depth. Felix drops that particular emotional bomb and Locus is at a loss. His body tenses for a brief moment before he forces himself to relax. Pain shoots through his stomach, blossoming out from the wound and twisting up into his heart. He wasn't always this way. He used to feel things. He used to be more open. He used to be so different.
He swallows thickly. Forces himself to breathe easy. This is fine. Locus fights against everything he's become to grasp hold of the man he was. He has no idea what's going to happen. It's like he's free-falling all over again. ]
I never wanted things to become as strained as they did. We've become two different people.
[ Not for the first time he wants to shake Felix and demand to know why he couldn't have just listened to him. They could've left! They could have regrouped and figured out something else. They could have gone anywhere and done anything.
Now they can't. ]
I wish we hadn't.
[ Hadn't become this different. Hasn't taken the job on Chorus. Hadn't ended the way they did. There's any number of things, Felix can take his pick. ]
[ For a tense, uncomfortable moment, Felix thinks he ruined it. He's in the middle of chastising himself for not keeping his fucking mouth shut when he feels Locus start to relax again. Afraid to move, he holds his breath, waiting to see what the fallout from that idiotic confession is going to be. But it isn't as bad as he fears. It isn't bad at all, in fact. It's more open than he expects to get from Locus on the subject and tentatively, feeling like he's picking his way across a landmine-littered field, he offers; ]
So do I. I... [ Pausing, he chews on the inside of his cheek for a second, debating how deeply into a territory he avoids he wants to go. ] I wish a lot of things. I made so many mistakes, mostly with you, and I... [ He sighs softly. ] I would do a lot of things differently if I could.
[ But he can't and now he's here, confined to a planet he won't get the choice to leave. It'll happen when some AI decides it will and then he'll be dead again and Locus will be alone. Better off, maybe. Free the way he can never be as long as Felix lives. Or maybe he won't see it that way and he'll be unhappy. It's hard to imagine, but Locus is here right now, isn't he? He said he didn't want him to die.
It takes more effort that Felix is willing to admit to expending to release Locus' hand and push himself up and away from him. But he's had an idea and it's either act on it now or chicken out and never do it. ]
Hold on.
[ He's off the bed as carefully as possible and hurried across to the dresser where he keeps his jewelry and accessories. Unable to see in the dark, he stubs his toe on the way and curses, but after a few seconds rummaging around blindly, he finds what he's searching for and returns. Just as carefully, he resumes the position he vacated, nudging Leon out of the way and reclaiming Locus' hand
This time, though, he doesn't grip it. He presses a beaded chain and two flat pieces of metal into his palm: the dog tags he kept after they left the UNSC. The military doesn't own him, it never did, but deep down, those tags still mean something. They're a part of who he is. Who Isaac is, beneath the thick veneer of Felix he's hidden himself underneath. ]
[ Thought he probably shouldn't, Locus feels stripped bare by this conversation. He feels raw and exposed. When did he get like this? How did he get like this? He doesn't really know. It was just something that gradually happened over time. Or maybe it wasn't. Whatever it was, he can't pinpoint it down. He wishes he could. Maybe he wishes a lot of things even though he knows it's stupid and pointless. What good is wishing? It's never going to fix anything or change anything. As he told Felix before: all they can do is move forward.
Admittedly, he's a little confused when Felix gets up, Leon rumbling an annoyed sound at being moved. Locus can only barely make out Felix moving around in the dark and possibly let's a shadow of a smile curl up one side of his mouth when he hits the dresser.
Whatever he might be expecting, the familiar feel of dog tags fit into his hand. Once again he's struck dumb because he doesn't know what to say, just keeps his hand curled around the tags and Felix's fingers. He looks down where their hands are joined, even though he can't really make out much of anything. His memory is good, though, and he can easily fill in what it looks like. What the tags look like.
He sighs. It's a strange sound because Locus doesn't really know how he feels. A mix of various things. He takes his hand back—the dog tags closed safely within them—then lifts his to his neck. They should've been destroyed a long time ago, but Locus held on to his. A steady reminder he was meant to be a perfect soldier. Ever since he's arrived, he tends to keep them on because they have his actual name stamped there. He's yet to tell anyone what it is. Doesn't think he will. But, he lifts his off, replaces it with Felix's and then seeks Felix's hand out to place his own there. They're warm from having been pressed against his skin. ]
Here. Take them.
[ He doesn't really know what else to say and flounders around for something. ]
Maybe we can figure out who we were by letting these go.
[ Felix hasn't told anyone his real name and he isn't going to start. Mercenary codenames may not be necessary anymore, Isaac belongs to another time and to other people. He belongs to Mason and Megan and the little Wus that think he's some super fun uncle. ( Because he always called himself Uncle Isaac whenever he spoke to them just to get Mason's goat. ) More importantly, Isaac belongs to Sam, to Locus, to whatever he wants to call himself. Maybe it's silly, but Felix has no intention of sharing that part of himself with anyone else.
He doesn't know what he's expecting when he hands over the tags. Locus knows how important they are, even if neither of them is sentimental enough to make a big deal about he. He knows even if he rejects them, he'll do it with respect.
But Locus takes his hand away. Felix hears the jingle of metal and the shift in the mattress as Locus fiddles with his own chain. And when another, warmer, set are pressed into his hand, he knows what they are. ]
I'll take care of them.
[ It's quiet, it's implacable, and it isn't the dog tags he's actually talking about. Sitting up, he lets go of Locus' hand and fastens the tags around his own neck, knowing he'll probably never take them off. Instead of lying back down, he turns toward Locus. In the dark, Felix can't make him out very well, but he knows his dimensions and the space he takes up in the world better than he knows his own.
His fingertips brush Locus' cheek seconds before his hand splays against his jaw. Then he leans in, careful to keep from knocking into Locus' injured side, and kisses the corner of his mouth. ]
Whoever you are, Sam, I'm always going to be your shield.
[ Because that's what he's always been. A social one to guard against the interactions Locus never wanted to deal with. A literal one made of hardlight. And the metaphorical one that will always guard his back. He thinks Locus will get that. And it's so much easier to say those last three words than it is two others. ]
[ This is turning into a more dramatic evening than he imagined. Then again, with Felix, anything can take a turn for the dramatic. Usually it's not in a good way, though. There's a heavy meaning in what they're doing right now and although everything in Locus wants to turn away from this, he can't. He knows he's internalizing too much and casting around to figure out how to be himself without... being himself.
With Felix this close, it's a simple thing to turn just a little more and catch his mouth for a proper kiss. He doesn't understand why they wound up the way they did and just how things went so wrong. He wants to get angry at Felix for going after the sims and essentially throwing everything away. He's angry at himself for handling things the way he did. He's angry at Felix for doing what he's done over the years. He's just angry.
And probably a bit melancholy. Definitely bereaved even if he doesn't fully realizing it.
Lifting a hand to settle against the side of Felix's neck, he draws himself closer to deepen the kiss. There's an edge to it, those feelings bubbling to the surface and Locus with nowhere to really put them. However, he doesn't get very far as a sharp pain shoots through him, causing him to jolt backward. He curses low under his breath, his hand dropping down to his side as if he means to push to stave off the pain. He does stop short because that's only going to hurt more. Pain flares hot through his body, threatening to cover him in a sheen of sweat, even in the chill of the night.
Locus tips his head back and it thunks lightly against the headboard. ]
Move to the other side, Isaac. [ a beat; ] Please.
[ He hadn't meant to start anything with that kiss. It had been a gesture and a show of affection, a way to express a deeper meaning than the inadequate words he'd cobbled together. But then Locus kisses him back and Felix is weak. So weak. Because resistance is out of the question and he shifts closer as the kiss takes on an edge not of his own making. He's just lifting his hand, aiming to rest it against the side of Locus' neck when he jerks backward.
Memory comes rushing back. Gunshot wound. Stitches. Stubborn idiot who refuses to take medication to help himself.
Cursing, Felix hovers awkwardly at Locus' side, unable to properly see what's going on or actually do anything for the pain. Did the stitches tear? Is Locus bleeding everywhere? Locus is cursing, indicative of the level of pain he's in and restless, helpless frustration wells up inside of Felix, impossible to ignore. ]
Shit. [ He gets off the bed, jostling Leon in the process, and moves around to the other side, snatching up both the glass of water and the painkillers. One of his shins gets banged in the process, but Felix ignores it and even more carefully climbs back into the bed. ] Stop being a stubborn asshole and take the pills.
[ Argumentative as the words might be, Felix's tone is soft, concerned and failing to hide it. ]
I can—I set a flashlight over here before we went to sleep. Is it bleeding again? Maybe I should check it.
[ The jostling makes him have another jolt of pain but he keeps it to himself. They should probably get a better mattress. Gritting his teeth, he shifts over more so Felix has room on the other side. Even though it's so cold out, he's broken a slight sweat.
Maybe he should take those pills.
So, he takes them and the water from Felix, wordlessly accepting it and swallowing them down. This feels weak. Since when can't he just grit through and bear the pain? The packet and water are discarded on the other nightstand as Locus rearranges himself on the bed again. ]
It's not bleeding.
[ He almost says it's fine, but it's not that fine and knowing Felix it will start an argument. He's really not interested in that.
As a means to move on, he reaches for Felix's arm to tug him close. It will be better to get comfortable and... maybe not resume exactly as they were, but something. ]
[ Thank fucking Christ he takes the pills. Felix breathes out such a heavy sigh of relief when Locus takes them from him that he can probably feel the gust of air that's displaced by it. The wound isn't fine. Nothing about Locus having been shot is fine and it's probably for the best that he doesn't keep insisting that it is.
That he takes the pills is both a balm for Felix's nerves and telling of how much pain he must be in. It's a shame the son of a bitch who shot him is dead, if only because Felix really wants to kill him again. Slower this time. So it hurts more.
Visions of further retribution dissipate as Locus tugs his arm. Snapping back to the moment, Felix complies with it, shifting closer until he's pressed against Locus' side. He drags the covers up as high as they'll go and twists sideways, curling the length of his body into his side so that he's sharing as much of his body heat as he can without aggravating the wound. ]
[ The day feels incredibly long. Locus can wager a guess as to how much time they have before sunrise and that time is growing shorter still. Good thing they've got blackout curtains because Locus is certain they're both going to sleep well into the day tomorrow. And though he'd never admit it out loud, he's looking forward to it. His body is just too tired.
When Felix begins to arrange himself next to him, Locus, too, arranges himself so he's comfortable. One arm is stretched out beneath the pillows to facilitate the idea of no space between them. It's just logic, really! No space means no cold air. His other hand seeks a place that won't aggravate his side and he winds up curling his fingers slightly around Felix's upperarm. By and large Locus isn't a caretaker or comfort-giver—mostly because it feels far too awkward—but he maintains the connection to provide some sort of grounding for Felix. For all he knows it might not help, all things considered. But, perhaps it will.
He feels Leon make himself comfortable on his other side, along the line of his leg. Locus just sighs. ]
No. [ a beat; his thumb twitches once before he rubs it over Felix's skin a few times. ] Do you?
[ There's a certain amount of self-reflection necessary to realize that Locus' physical presence staves off the worst of the nightmares and that's in large part why Felix tends to plaster himself against him when they're sleeping. It's self-reflection Felix doesn't engage in very often and certainly hasn't about anything pertaining to his death. He attributes his desire to be touching Locus solely to the years he's spent wanting him and it's legitimate enough that he never questions it.
But it does help to have Locus there, and despite Felix's uneasy trepidation that there are going to be more tortuously awful dreams waiting for him, he closes his eyes and relaxes. And in the morning, when he hasn't be plagued by nightmares, some more in-tune part of his mind is going to think the dog tags had something to do with it and then come to the erroneous conclusion that they're some kind talisman. Instead of realizing the more glaringly obvious explanation: the events of Chorus notwithstanding, Locus does care about him and some of his irrational fears are unfounded. ]
Mmm. [ It's a quiet noncommittal sound, Felix's fingers creeping across the top of Locus' chest before coming to rest above his heart. He can feel it, the steady beat of it, and that's nice. Reassuring. ] Just be alive in the morning.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Funny how time changes things.
His fingers twitch and it takes a certain measure of control to not jerk Felix up by his neck for saying something so stupid. He's already feeling annoyed over this even though he knows he doesn't really have the right to. He shifts his hand to Felix's neck, squeezing, massaging. Even though he still wants to throttle him a little. Locus takes his time before he replies because he feels like if he opens his mouth too soon, he's going to call Felix an idiot. ]
It's not a weakness.
[ It's not. Or every soldier out there who's been through a war would be weak. They've all seen and done things they likely never imagined. It doesn't make them weak that some things just can't be overcome.
Locus sighs heavily, his hand lifting to rub over his face before he sets it back on Felix's head to resume carding his fingers through his hair. ]
That isn't going to help. It's just going to make it worse. [ He pauses, swallows, his tone softens, ] I don't want you to die, either.
no subject
Deep and long. In and out.
Felix doesn't know he closed his eyes until Locus speaks again and he opens them. It means something to hear him say that he isn't being weak. He doesn't sort it out now, but it settles inside him somewhere, sanding down a rough edge or two that he's been carrying for years.
And that's enough. More than he ever expected to hear. But Locus isn't finished and for a moment, it becomes hard to breathe all over again.
He's still got Locus' hand caught in his own. There's probably something he should say to that admission, but he doesn't know what it is. So he pulls his hand over and presses a kiss to the back of Locus' knuckles. ]
Guess I need to come up with a different plan. [ Because if Locus doesn't want him to die, if he actually wants him to stay, then hitting the ground isn't an option. Much, much softer, he adds; ] Thank you.
no subject
Maybe one day they'll talk about other things more and Locus will find out why Felix thinks he's weak for showing emotion. Maybe it's for the same reasons Locus didn't like to show his. But, they always seemed different in that regard. Locus didn't want to be human. Felix seemed to accept that he is.
He looks down at Felix in the dark after that kiss to his hand comes and doesn't say anything right away. This is already more intimate than they've ever really been and it just involves talking. It's just not something they do. Or maybe it's becoming something that they do. He doesn't know. Things have been strange and changing since their arrival. He lets out a soft breath and shifts to lean back a bit more to get comfortable. Slowly, his hand still moves through Felix's hair. ]
You've never had particularly good ones.
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As raw as he feels, he doesn't take offense to what Locus says. He knows it isn't a condemnation, even if it is true. ]
That's why we usually stick to yours.
[ His thumb rubs over Locus' hand, the fingers of the other fiddling with the sheet covering his leg. He isn't planning to say anything else, content to lapse into silence and just be alive for a moment. So of course, he finds himself blurting out; ]
I missed you. All the years we were— [ At odds. Not themselves. Too caught up in all the shit to remember or care about who they were. ] Nothing's ever free, right? It's worth it. [ Dying. ] Having you back.
no subject
He swallows thickly. Forces himself to breathe easy. This is fine. Locus fights against everything he's become to grasp hold of the man he was. He has no idea what's going to happen. It's like he's free-falling all over again. ]
I never wanted things to become as strained as they did. We've become two different people.
[ Not for the first time he wants to shake Felix and demand to know why he couldn't have just listened to him. They could've left! They could have regrouped and figured out something else. They could have gone anywhere and done anything.
Now they can't. ]
I wish we hadn't.
[ Hadn't become this different. Hasn't taken the job on Chorus. Hadn't ended the way they did. There's any number of things, Felix can take his pick. ]
no subject
So do I. I... [ Pausing, he chews on the inside of his cheek for a second, debating how deeply into a territory he avoids he wants to go. ] I wish a lot of things. I made so many mistakes, mostly with you, and I... [ He sighs softly. ] I would do a lot of things differently if I could.
[ But he can't and now he's here, confined to a planet he won't get the choice to leave. It'll happen when some AI decides it will and then he'll be dead again and Locus will be alone. Better off, maybe. Free the way he can never be as long as Felix lives. Or maybe he won't see it that way and he'll be unhappy. It's hard to imagine, but Locus is here right now, isn't he? He said he didn't want him to die.
It takes more effort that Felix is willing to admit to expending to release Locus' hand and push himself up and away from him. But he's had an idea and it's either act on it now or chicken out and never do it. ]
Hold on.
[ He's off the bed as carefully as possible and hurried across to the dresser where he keeps his jewelry and accessories. Unable to see in the dark, he stubs his toe on the way and curses, but after a few seconds rummaging around blindly, he finds what he's searching for and returns. Just as carefully, he resumes the position he vacated, nudging Leon out of the way and reclaiming Locus' hand
This time, though, he doesn't grip it. He presses a beaded chain and two flat pieces of metal into his palm: the dog tags he kept after they left the UNSC. The military doesn't own him, it never did, but deep down, those tags still mean something. They're a part of who he is. Who Isaac is, beneath the thick veneer of Felix he's hidden himself underneath. ]
Keep them. In case the Porter sends me back.
no subject
Admittedly, he's a little confused when Felix gets up, Leon rumbling an annoyed sound at being moved. Locus can only barely make out Felix moving around in the dark and possibly let's a shadow of a smile curl up one side of his mouth when he hits the dresser.
Whatever he might be expecting, the familiar feel of dog tags fit into his hand. Once again he's struck dumb because he doesn't know what to say, just keeps his hand curled around the tags and Felix's fingers. He looks down where their hands are joined, even though he can't really make out much of anything. His memory is good, though, and he can easily fill in what it looks like. What the tags look like.
He sighs. It's a strange sound because Locus doesn't really know how he feels. A mix of various things. He takes his hand back—the dog tags closed safely within them—then lifts his to his neck. They should've been destroyed a long time ago, but Locus held on to his. A steady reminder he was meant to be a perfect soldier. Ever since he's arrived, he tends to keep them on because they have his actual name stamped there. He's yet to tell anyone what it is. Doesn't think he will. But, he lifts his off, replaces it with Felix's and then seeks Felix's hand out to place his own there. They're warm from having been pressed against his skin. ]
Here. Take them.
[ He doesn't really know what else to say and flounders around for something. ]
Maybe we can figure out who we were by letting these go.
no subject
He doesn't know what he's expecting when he hands over the tags. Locus knows how important they are, even if neither of them is sentimental enough to make a big deal about he. He knows even if he rejects them, he'll do it with respect.
But Locus takes his hand away. Felix hears the jingle of metal and the shift in the mattress as Locus fiddles with his own chain. And when another, warmer, set are pressed into his hand, he knows what they are. ]
I'll take care of them.
[ It's quiet, it's implacable, and it isn't the dog tags he's actually talking about. Sitting up, he lets go of Locus' hand and fastens the tags around his own neck, knowing he'll probably never take them off. Instead of lying back down, he turns toward Locus. In the dark, Felix can't make him out very well, but he knows his dimensions and the space he takes up in the world better than he knows his own.
His fingertips brush Locus' cheek seconds before his hand splays against his jaw. Then he leans in, careful to keep from knocking into Locus' injured side, and kisses the corner of his mouth. ]
Whoever you are, Sam, I'm always going to be your shield.
[ Because that's what he's always been. A social one to guard against the interactions Locus never wanted to deal with. A literal one made of hardlight. And the metaphorical one that will always guard his back. He thinks Locus will get that. And it's so much easier to say those last three words than it is two others. ]
no subject
With Felix this close, it's a simple thing to turn just a little more and catch his mouth for a proper kiss. He doesn't understand why they wound up the way they did and just how things went so wrong. He wants to get angry at Felix for going after the sims and essentially throwing everything away. He's angry at himself for handling things the way he did. He's angry at Felix for doing what he's done over the years. He's just angry.
And probably a bit melancholy. Definitely bereaved even if he doesn't fully realizing it.
Lifting a hand to settle against the side of Felix's neck, he draws himself closer to deepen the kiss. There's an edge to it, those feelings bubbling to the surface and Locus with nowhere to really put them. However, he doesn't get very far as a sharp pain shoots through him, causing him to jolt backward. He curses low under his breath, his hand dropping down to his side as if he means to push to stave off the pain. He does stop short because that's only going to hurt more. Pain flares hot through his body, threatening to cover him in a sheen of sweat, even in the chill of the night.
Locus tips his head back and it thunks lightly against the headboard. ]
Move to the other side, Isaac. [ a beat; ] Please.
no subject
Memory comes rushing back. Gunshot wound. Stitches. Stubborn idiot who refuses to take medication to help himself.
Cursing, Felix hovers awkwardly at Locus' side, unable to properly see what's going on or actually do anything for the pain. Did the stitches tear? Is Locus bleeding everywhere? Locus is cursing, indicative of the level of pain he's in and restless, helpless frustration wells up inside of Felix, impossible to ignore. ]
Shit. [ He gets off the bed, jostling Leon in the process, and moves around to the other side, snatching up both the glass of water and the painkillers. One of his shins gets banged in the process, but Felix ignores it and even more carefully climbs back into the bed. ] Stop being a stubborn asshole and take the pills.
[ Argumentative as the words might be, Felix's tone is soft, concerned and failing to hide it. ]
I can—I set a flashlight over here before we went to sleep. Is it bleeding again? Maybe I should check it.
no subject
Maybe he should take those pills.
So, he takes them and the water from Felix, wordlessly accepting it and swallowing them down. This feels weak. Since when can't he just grit through and bear the pain? The packet and water are discarded on the other nightstand as Locus rearranges himself on the bed again. ]
It's not bleeding.
[ He almost says it's fine, but it's not that fine and knowing Felix it will start an argument. He's really not interested in that.
As a means to move on, he reaches for Felix's arm to tug him close. It will be better to get comfortable and... maybe not resume exactly as they were, but something. ]
Come on. We need to keep warm.
no subject
That he takes the pills is both a balm for Felix's nerves and telling of how much pain he must be in. It's a shame the son of a bitch who shot him is dead, if only because Felix really wants to kill him again. Slower this time. So it hurts more.
Visions of further retribution dissipate as Locus tugs his arm. Snapping back to the moment, Felix complies with it, shifting closer until he's pressed against Locus' side. He drags the covers up as high as they'll go and twists sideways, curling the length of his body into his side so that he's sharing as much of his body heat as he can without aggravating the wound. ]
Do you need anything else?
no subject
When Felix begins to arrange himself next to him, Locus, too, arranges himself so he's comfortable. One arm is stretched out beneath the pillows to facilitate the idea of no space between them. It's just logic, really! No space means no cold air. His other hand seeks a place that won't aggravate his side and he winds up curling his fingers slightly around Felix's upperarm. By and large Locus isn't a caretaker or comfort-giver—mostly because it feels far too awkward—but he maintains the connection to provide some sort of grounding for Felix. For all he knows it might not help, all things considered. But, perhaps it will.
He feels Leon make himself comfortable on his other side, along the line of his leg. Locus just sighs. ]
No. [ a beat; his thumb twitches once before he rubs it over Felix's skin a few times. ] Do you?
no subject
But it does help to have Locus there, and despite Felix's uneasy trepidation that there are going to be more tortuously awful dreams waiting for him, he closes his eyes and relaxes. And in the morning, when he hasn't be plagued by nightmares, some more in-tune part of his mind is going to think the dog tags had something to do with it and then come to the erroneous conclusion that they're some kind talisman. Instead of realizing the more glaringly obvious explanation: the events of Chorus notwithstanding, Locus does care about him and some of his irrational fears are unfounded. ]
Mmm. [ It's a quiet noncommittal sound, Felix's fingers creeping across the top of Locus' chest before coming to rest above his heart. He can feel it, the steady beat of it, and that's nice. Reassuring. ] Just be alive in the morning.