seethers (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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bakerstreet2016-11-05 02:34 pm
seethers) wrote in bakerstreet2016-11-05 02:34 pm
Never meant to grow so close
 On occasion, the fun in playing a romantic relationship is not actually playing the relationship proper, but the build up. The characters grow closer, frozen hearts can thaw, emotional barriers may fall, and insight is gained, both about self and potential partners... ...plus, it can be entertaining as all heck to play either a. awkward dancing around the subject, if your character is that type, or b. embracing all that warming up. A little of column A, a little of column B may scratch an itch you never knew you had. Play one little vignette in time. You may find yourself craving some more.
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Evey Hammond | V for Vendetta
Lance | Voltron: Legendary Defender | OTA 17+
gently slides this ur way
(no, snarls every bit of defiance and determination Keith has scraped together inside of himself over the years, but the Red Lion was pulled back all the same)
--lick their wounds, learn how to move forward.
He cut it off early with the Gladiator today, once he realized this was a frustration he couldn't exhaust. It's too deep for that, too edged with the remaining tension of a breathless terror, over how close this loss had come to being a tragedy.
(Don't think about it.)
Restlessness pushes him past the door to his room, down the dimmed hallways of the Castle, despite how badly he kind of just wants to be asleep right now. Like everyone else is, or pretending to be, anyway.
--or not.
The Blue Paladin's the last person he'd expect to be awake and ghosting the halls. Keith hesitates only a moment, observing, before he steps forward, folding his arms and leaning against the doorway. ]
Hey. Didn't expect anyone else to be up.
[ The "You okay?" goes unspoken, out of respect for both their egos. ]
accepts it lovingly and pushes this back at u...........
Which...they almost were. All of them. A second's hesitation or forced bravado and they would have been toast.
Now that it's over, they should all be resting and readying themselves to fight another day, but that hasn't really been working out for Lance. Instead he's been tossing and turning and groaning with frustration in his empty room, because this near-miss is all he can think about. All of his usual resources for soothing himself (music, slow breathing exercises, weird-but-effective alien aromatherapy masks he's concocted over their months in space) have been exhausted.
Insomnia's never taken him this far before, but he's got some loose idea in his head that if he can get his blood flowing, maybe he'll just...reboot his brain? Trick himself into falling asleep? It's worth a shot, so Lance is taking a walk. It's not like anyone else is up to see it, right?
It's a great idea, if he does say so himself. Too bad it's not working.
He slips into one of the lounges, flopping down on a couch with an irritable grunt. In that moment where he closes his eyes and leans his head back to try to think, Keith shows up in the doorway and speaks, making Lance jolt and look over at him with a wide-eyed stare.]
Oh. Uh. [Lance clears his throat.] Yeeeah, y'know, I'm just...chillin'. Watching the stars, taking in the sights... [Lance shrugs, noncommittal, and sprawls out where he sits with his arms along the back of the couch. Keith made a good move by not prodding at the problem directly, but Lance is still feeling the urge to deflect after being caught off-guard.]
What about you?
and then the war of the couch began
Keith's skepticism is written in the raise of an eyebrow, but he shrugs, opts for his own white lie. ]
Couldn't sleep.
[ An easier truth. One that skirts around scuffed and scraped knuckles, waves off the tired set to his eyes.
Lance's sprawl isn't necessarily an open invitation for company, but Keith breaks away from the door anyway, joining the other pilot on the couch with a casual drop down to the cushions and the implied threat of a knee not quite nudging against Lance's leg.
Move over. This side is his now. ]
Not sick of space yet, really?
[ It was cool for the first two months, and then it got old. Swirling galaxies and exploding stars just fall short now compared to the thought of the small, sparse comfort of his desert shanty. Pretty sure he's not the only one who thinks so. ]
such maturity. such grace
Stubborn, he doesn't move an inch, but he doesn't really try to stop Keith from sitting either. Keith gets..a third of the couch. That's fair, right? Lance's long, beautiful legs need room to breathe.]
...I guess it's all the same, after a while. [Lance goes from glowering at Keith to staring out one of the large windows at the starscape. Keith's right. On nights like this, he doesn't think he's ever been more homesick. He's the furthest he's ever been from Earth - the furthest any human has been, aside from the other four Paladins.
Keith's remark is a nice reminder, though, that everyone on this ship gets it. To some extent. Lance didn't see a family to miss in Keith's shack, but who knows?]
Hey. What do you think the Garrison told everyone?
[That's probably not a great path for his thoughts to go down.]
like watching cats sulk about who gets to sit on the piece of paper
The Garrison?
[ The question catches him off-guard, surprised and puzzled -- but he's quiet for a minute, turning the question over with a considering hum, before shrugging. ]
Not dead, probably.
[ Not like with the Keroberos Mission. "Pilot error" had been a damned lie, pinning Shiro with the blame, but the team's fate had seemed certain -- unlike with the four cadets. ]
Who knows? Runaways, abducted...doesn't matter. They'll be eating their own words, eventually, anyway.
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[Ugh god Keith why can't you just let him have the couch? There are other chairs. There's a whole other couch right over there that you could just have to yourself. His protest is silent, his knee pushing against Keith's in a bid for more territory like that guy on the bus that thinks it's cool to take up two seats at once. Lance isn't entirely sure why he isn't complaining out loud; it's not like he doesn't want to make Keith leave or anything.
Lance isn't feeling kinda lonely, or anything.]
You miss it?
[Does he mean Earth? Does he mean the Garrison, after Keith lost his spot? He's not elaborating.]
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...Nah.
He's comfortably planted right here, calm and steadfast, as if he's ignoring the knee pressing insistently against his own. And when he stretches, arms up, he promptly swings them back down to mirror Lance's pose -- and now the battlepoint is not just at the knees, but at the elbows, as he leans back.
(And the hint of a smirk at the corner of his lips: he knows what he's just thrown down.) ]
Not much to miss.
[ The confession is frank, matter-of-fact, except for the self-conscious way he looks aside, brow furrowing. Everyone else had been freely vocal about their homesickness, save for Shiro, but Keith's own attachments were simple and too easily left behind: his bike; his shack; and the safe, shady retreat of his room where he napped through the afternoon until the desert heat had waned.
There wasn't much to his life before that, either. ]
Not like you, I guess.
[ And Keith goes straight for the jugular, not even making an attempt at being vague. But there's a sincere, interested tilt to his head, full attentions squared on Lance. ]
You could tell me about them? If you want.
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(His eyebrows twitch a little at that smirk. Givin' you the stink-eye, pal.)]
-oh, uh. [He blinks out of his glare at Keith's response, looking away a little uncomfortably. Yeah, maybe that was insensitive. That realization alone makes Keith's offer surprising. The chance to name the worry for what it is, without having to directly admit that he's worried about anything, is tempting. But...
When Lance chances a peek back at Keith, the honesty in his stare reassures him that he's serious. Keith doesn't really fake interest in stuff; he's pretty up-front, or so Lance has learned. If he didn't want to hear it, he'd probably just leave? Lance clears his throat, staring out at the stars instead.]
There's a lot of them. [He admits that upfront, giving Keith the chance to bail.]
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The problem now is that he's pressed against Lance in small, distracting ways, in sharp and solid edges. At this point the time they've been in casual contact has shattered records. He should want to move. To break the line, drop the tension, but--
--He's kind of fine with it. For now. ]
Define 'a lot.'
[ He squints, eyebrow raising as he thinks on what a lot could be. Three? Five?
...Nine?
(He can't even begin to imagine families so big that counting loved ones is like counting stars.)
He shrugs, huffing out a quick, wry breath through his nose, and the gesture lightly jostles Lance's elbow -- get on with it. He's got the time. Lance has the time. And, he's realizing, yeah, he really wants to know. ]
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Besides that, he's...also made his peace with this. Sort of. Just, you know, for now.]
There's Mom, Dad, two older sisters, big bro, lil bro, grandparents, my aunt- [Ugh, she'd probably like Keith.] -my little cousin, more grandparents...
[He pauses there, all ten fingers fanned out, then lets his hands drop back down. He can't quite look away from the stars, from the impossible distance they represent.
Both sides of his family have been large and close for as long as he can recall. Holidays are a major undertaking, extended family coming in from all over or hosting them after road trips to other states. The memory draws Lance's brows together and makes his lips quirk in a smile.]
...you never had to be alone very long. Even after my sisters moved out.
[At the Garrison? Not so much. Hunk was an important distraction.]
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One of them will give eventually, and it's totally not going to be him.
Still. Ten? Ten? Something of the surprise must show on his face, the struggle to wrap his mind around a family the was always there. What it's like to never, really, be alone--
He can see it. Sort of. While Lance throws his stare out at the stars, Keith's is caught on the Blue Paladin's profile -- weighing, considering, and for the first time wondering what it has been like to leave a home like that for the quiet of space. ]
In the middle, huh... You know? Some things now make a lot of sense.
[ (Rude, Keith.) ]
But that sounds -- nice?
[ A question. Definitely a question. Teenaged wasteland vagabond is entirely skeptical. ]
LEONARD SNART ( CAPTAIN COLD ) | DCTV | OTA
Elliot Alderson | MR ROBOT
Nico di Angelo | Heroes of Olympus | m/m
paige matthews ( charmed )
kaecilius ⇀ mcu ⇀ open
Aria Montgomery || PLL
Amira Surana { Dragon Age }
Rey | SW: TFA | OTA
Logan | X-Men | OTA
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Every time he visited the mansion he had to leave his comfort zone of Hell's Kitchen, instead wandering through the halls of a place where people made reality less reliable. How could he judge where Person A would be when they could run through walls? When Person B changed the weather around him, everything smelled and felt so different.
There was one person he could sense easily thanks to the heavy metal surrounding his skeleton. Someone he'd spoken several times now during his visits and found himself eager to come across when he heard that strong, distinct heartbeat.]
Logan? [Matt stopped a few feet in front of him as he turned a corner, head tilted and cane in hand; he was still pretending to be less competent with his senses, hoping that anyone digging through his mind would keep the secret as well. It seemed petty to keep his abilities private when surrounded by mutants, but... Matt liked to keep his own oddities close and quiet.
Still, he was increasingly tempted to share more of himself with Logan. Maybe there wasn't really much there beyond the smiles and occasional flirtatious comments, but Matt couldn't help but hope for it. No doubt some of that showed in his mannerisms, though he had to remind himself that not everyone could sense a quickened heartbeat.]
That you?
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and how young Murdock was that first time he took a tour. Blind, soft spoken- held himself like a fighter in subtle small tells that most wouldn't pick up on- but damn near everyone in the school had to learn something about protecting themselves because of what they were. Didn't surprise him that a blind man had to do the same. Most would take them for an easy mark. Logan? Gave him wide berth at first. He didn't really hold much interest in the proceedings but the more he came around to help, the more Logan found himself playing tour guide or keeping kids settled when handling the rather intimidating conversations about who has what legal right over them, emancipating themselves from parents, all that shit.
Messy stuff.
Not that he was needed, Murdock had a way with them, made all the big words and finality of what they signed seem like it wasn't such a big deal. Like it'd all be okay. Quirks aside- that's what had him warming up, taking the time to come around when he heard him walking about- the quiet tap of a cane unobtrusive in the white noise of the house. That same tapping had him wandering down the hall, turning a corner with a quirk of his brow and the usual rumble to his voice. Matt here? Not odd. Matt here and his pulse going a little quick when he'd been walking pretty sedately? A little odd. Logan took a moment to lean against the wall and breathe in, subtly scenting the air, get a feel for his mood. ]
Murdock. What brings you around this time?
Marie Kreutz l The Bourne Series l OTA
Freya Vaughn | OC
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"Hey, I, uh, got you this."
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"What is it?" She knew that it was a stupid question to ask when someone was handing you a box to open but Freya couldn't help herself. She lightly ran her fingers along the cardboard lid before peeking inside.
Her confusion melted away as a smile pulled over her lips. "A cupcake!" And it wasn't chocolate which Freya was deathly allergic too. "This is awesome. Wait, I didn't forget an important something did I?" She was so bad at dates.
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"Well I am always awesome but you're awesome too so do you want to split it?"
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"Will there be food involved too?" Freya can always eat.