( nursed back to health shipping meme. )

[lumeria]

Nursed Back to Health shipping meme Comment with your character, preferences, preferred role, and any information you'd like to include. Your character has either been injured/sick and had to be taken in (possibly against their will) or has been the one to help somebody like the former. Through the mending process, the two characters in a thread have fallen in love - or at least grown closer and more affectionate. Reply to others. Thread.

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[incubo]

[ he's kind of expecting egil to leave, for the two of them to be awkward and uncomfortable around one another for a few hours, for finch to sleep on the couch and go down on him the next morning and then-- then everything just goes back to normal. he's not expecting the arms around him or the face in his bare shoulder or the soft, frightening sounds of hitched, teary breaths. he feels dampness against his skin, knows egil is crying, and panic surges up in him again. he's so lost, he has no fucking clue what to do.

he hesitates, stiff and uncertain for a moment, two, before he allows his muscles to relax again, leaning back into the other man. his hand lifts, fingers sifting into the fall of hair across a familiar brow; the other curves over a freckled forearm at his waist, fingers stroking the back of egil's hand. ] Oi, [ he protests, far more gently than is his usual wont, tipping his temple against the other man's. ] Haven't I kept coming back? There ain't, y'know, anybody else in the world I've come back to like I have you. Scares the shit outta' me.

[ he shifts, turning in egil's arms, his hands sliding up to the pale, tear-stained face again. thumbs swipe at the moisture there, and he slots his mouth briefly, carefully over his, pressure that's barely there before withdrawing again. he brushes a second kiss to one damp cheek, then an eyelid. ]

I.. it's just.. never been safe for me to.. [ he trails off, not sure how to finish that. it's not really something he's ever thought he'd have to explain. ] I was ten when I.. matured, I guess. I've been too fucked up since then to.. care.

[norms]

[ He doesn't know if that's supposed to make him feel better or not. Egil knows what Finch means when he says it, the tenderness of his touch and the weight of his lips a bright spot in the blur of emotion melting him down, but there's a lot he still hasn't figured out. He can't even seem to think straight when they're like this, letting him do as he wants and pliant in ways he isn't even after sex, and all of it's catching up to him like a chokehold on his heart, bits of it crumbling even as he responds in kind and leans into him. He's warm, so very real and too present for Egil to ever consider giving up. Whatever that means. Whatever all of this is supposed to mean.

His lips press thin, a shuddered breath escaping as he keeps his eyes closed after the weight of Finch's mouth leaves him. ]

Sometimes I think you won't, and it... I'm scared too, Finch. [ He hates how small his voice is, how small he feels, and it's ridiculous to be so open when there's no guarantee it'll be fine tomorrow or the day after or weeks from now. Egil draws back so he can try to wipe at his face, exposed and vulnerable and uncomfortable with the idea of giving the other more than he already has. He wants to go back to before he'd found him on his doorstep, to before Finch had found whoever had done this to him, to before everything. Hiding in that memory isn't going to get him anywhere, but he wishes it would. ] I don't know what to do. It's like-- all of this is too much but not enough at the same time.

[ He sucks in a breath, bleeding out with honesty and ready to melt into the floor. ] Does that make any sense at all? [ Egil almost laughs, so delirious with the pressure of it, and he nearly shoves Finch away before he thinks better of it and grips his hand instead, wanting to curl in on himself. ] Do you... I feel so crazy, you know. But I can't tell myself to stop, or it's worse than really being that way. [ So please. What do they do? ]

[incubo]

Yeah, [ he murmurs, voice a little thick despite himself, throat constricting. he gets it, that it's far, far too much, and not nearly enough. he can't think about it too hard, though, what it'd be like to just.. be his lover. coming home to him every night, waking with him every morning, not having to come back to him with another person's teeth marking his skin.

they're both in too deep and there's nowhere to go. ]

I'm-- [ he's shaking, in pain and exhausted, but feeling wired with nerves and the familiar fight-or-flight instincts that tell him to run and not look back. he doesn't, of course; instead, he slots his fingers between egil's slowly, as if testing the very idea of holding his hand like this. ] I'm sorry. I knew.. so many times that I shoulda' stopped coming to you, that I shoulda' moved on. But I-- I like it here. When you're here. I like how you treat me.

[ this has been a safe place from the start, even when they'd been little more than acquaintances.

by now, steam fills the little bathroom, slicking finch's hair, leaving his bare skin damp. he hesitates, then reaches again, carefully pushing strands from egil's face, copper eyes lifting to meet his. ]

I'm gonna' fuck this up real bad, whatever it is. It's inevitable, 'cause I don't have the first fuckin' clue what to do or how. But I-- unless you ask me to, I don't wanna' give it up, either. [ god, his heart is hammering so hard in his chest it's a wonder egil can't hear it. he can't believe he's even entertaining the thought of making anything of his reluctant emotional attachment to this man. ] Can't we-- Fuck. [ his breathing hiccups uncertainly. ] Can't we figure it out? I mean.. can't we.. find some way to--

[norms]

[ He's going to cry again.

This isn't what he'd wanted when he'd let him inside, when he'd touched the bruises and the cuts and the deeper wounds he has no business touching, but they're here now regardless of it. It's causing him to shake too, trying to anchor himself to Finch as best he can while holding himself together, and everything about this hurts. His head aches, his chest is too tight. His eyes are burning, and he can't even think beyond what Finch is saying - what he's suggesting? - and where it could lead them. This is bad, and he knows it is. They both do, but he's already peeled away the harder parts of himself to shove the softer pieces into Finch's hands. Whatever he does with it now is completely up to him, and he leans into the heat of his palm, breath a puff as he looks at him quietly. ]

I don't know what way that is. [ He's told Finch, before, just how screwed up the idea of more might be. Egil had thought he'd closed that part of his life off to survive the pain of his best friend's death, but the more times they've come together, even the simpler, sweeter moments-- it's like nothing he's ever known, and he's falling faster and harder over an edge he can't crawl his way back from. ] But it doesn't mean we can't... It doesn't mean I don't want to try to figure it out. With you. [ His fingers are squeezing into Finch's now, eyes glancing behind him to the shower for a moment and then back again like he's trying to think of something. Anything. Egil bites down on his tongue, tears into the soft flesh of his lip with his teeth as it all closes in around him. ]

I think I — [ He makes an effort to hold onto him, swallowing and wondering if he should just climb into the shower with him to erase the reminder that Finch isn't really his. ] I like when you're here too. [ There's always a strange emptiness when he isn't, a hole sucking the life from the world piece by piece. Egil whispers it under his breath. ] I like you.

[incubo]

[ how are they ever going to survive this? finch has built his entire life on survival-- they both have, in their ways, and now they're both flinging themselves into this.. this. it's stupid and reckless and scary as shit; even offering this much of himself is a new and overwhelming experience for him. you can't lose anyone, after all, if you never let them in in the first place. in all his life, only vic's peeled back any real measure of finch's defenses.

and here he is, dropping them willingly for someone who's probably as damaged in some ways as finch himself.

i like you, egil whispers, and it tears at something small and shattered and nearly forgotten inside him. god, fuck, he likes egil, too. he really fucking likes him, and he wants to scream and he wants to kiss him and he wants to goddamn cry, and he honestly can't remember the last time he did that. (maybe when he was a kid, waking up with the corpses of his foster parents in bed with him.) ]

Maybe-- [ does he sound as uncertain, as lost as he feels? ] Maybe I could.. I mean, if you wanted--if you didn't mind--maybe I could leave some of my shit here, just.. Maybe I could.. stay here more often. I-- [ he manages a slightly overwhelmed, frightened laugh. ] --God, I.. I like you, too. A lot.

[ he hesitates, then uncurls their fingers, reaching instead for the other man's shirt again. ]

--Take a shower with me? Maybe after I can.. make dinner for you or something, and we can just.. [ he trails off, then shrugs awkwardly. he just wants to be a normal goddamn person for egil, just for a little while. ]

[norms]

Okay. [ He's not even thinking of the consequences or where they might end up after this, what might become of them if they let it get too out of control. But isn't it already? Hasn't he already lost himself to it? ] Okay. We can do that. [ Another little breath, quiet. ] I can do that.

[ Because he wants to, and Finch wants to. He just wants to be close to him, and there's not much effort in getting out of his shirt or the rest of his clothes either, tugging himself out of them so they don't waste any more of the water that's already found its way down the drain. It's easier to do than to think about all of the things he's just said, how many promises he finds himself wanting to make for the sake of whatever they could be, and Egil draws him into the shower without a word, letting the warmth soak into him before his fingers gently run over his skin. He starts at his shoulders, petting down along his chest and eyes sliding shut with the memory. There's still the heat of his tears, and he's just on the cusp of crying over it all over again at how much he likes liking him.

His thumb drags across his jaw, gently touching Finch's split lip the same way he'd done before the start of all this. ] You don't have to do anything for me as long as you're here. That's all I really want. [ And all he's wanted, giving himself to the moment and brushing a careful kiss to the corner of his mouth. ] But if that's what you want... [ He's certainly not going to argue the details, thinking of the sweetness of those hours after when he's wrapped around Finch and tucked safely into bed without a thought to this or the uncertain future that waits for them. ]

[incubo]

[ he lets himself be drawn into the shower, standing close and feeling familiar hands on him. the ever-present drive for sex, to sate his hunger, is nearly forgotten beneath the simple and unfamiliar intimacy of just being together. being together in a way that he doesn't allow of anyone else. god, this is going to hurt so badly when he screws it up.

eventually, slowly, he soaps his hands, sliding them up egil's back, around to his ribs, thumbs stroking the long line of them. it's more for the contact than anything, feeling him alive and warm and wanting this, wanting to be here with him. egil wants more than just finch's body, and that-- that doesn't happen. ]

I like, uh, cooking for Vic sometimes, [ he reassures him, water stinging healing cuts and cleaning away the last traces of another man. ] I can't really eat food anymore, but it's kind of.. relaxing, I guess, and it might-- [ it might be nice, doing something for egil that doesn't generally require a bed. ] .. I'm probably good for the next day or two. [ people like the guy he'd just come from offer up a fair amount of energy throughout, so.. maybe he can stay a while. here with egil. ]

[norms]

[ Something more than just the idle caress of his hands might have not have been enough for someone else, but Egil only leans into him with the need for simple contact, knowing he's there and isn't going to run. He doesn't know if that's going to be worse when the newness of this wears off, when they're stuck at a crossroads because Finch has his own problems and Egil is too hardheaded to let anyone so close, but for now, it's far too easy to fall into the rhythm they set together, gentle as he draws some of the soap from Finch's hands onto his own to ghost them over his arms. He likes listening to him talk too, wishing (for once) that they were somewhere horizontal so he could simply press his ear to his chest and just... be. ]

I really don't know what's in there, but I'm sure you can make it work. [ Because it's not as if he spends too much time here if he can help it anyway. Those reasons are his own, shifting so he can rest his cheek against Finch's shoulder, hands balanced lightly on his hips. A pause, soaking in the contact, and Egil's voice is only loud enough so it's heard over the fall of the water. ] Are you going to stay until then? [ He can't press. He shouldn't push. What they're giving each other needs to be enough, or it's all going to fall apart as easily as it almost did. ] Do you want to?

[ A quiet invitation, if he wants. Egil can't draw a line around it, or he'll never want to let him go, and there's proof in the past that if he clings hard enough, the things he cares for suffocate with it. He doesn't want to do that to Finch. He won't let himself. ]