bakerstreet | Aftercare Meme

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Aftercare Meme

THE AFTERCARE MEME

Sexual play can be intense. It can be emotional - it can be exhausting. It's essential to take time after to reaffirm, cuddle and comfort, apply any first aid, and relax.

PROMPTS:
1: ROUTINE. This is how you always do it; maybe it's complicated, maybe it's simple, but it has the comfort of ritual.
2: BROKEN. You're proud, you're confident, you're cocky, but this has cracked through the shell and left you open and needing.
3: SUB DROP. Withdrawal from the endorphins leaves you exhausted and unhappy. Someone needs to help with that.
4: DOM DROP. Dominating has really taken it out of you - maybe it's the submissive's turn to give some comfort.
5: SAFEWORD. You got interrupted in the middle: everything became too much, and someone used the safeword. Time to talk it out.
6: NONE. Your lover is cruel, and doesn't give you the aftercare you need.
7: WITH SOMEONE ELSE. You seek your comfort and your affirmation from someone besides your lover.
8: FIRST TIME. You've never done this before. The experience, the sensations - it's all new, and it leaves you all the more disoriented.
9: SECOND ROUND. Time for another go?
10: WILD CARD. For everything else!

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If Steve actually voiced that concern... Loki could understand the worry, but he couldn't really imagine Steve as anything but good. He had his flaws to be sure, but then... didn't everyone? Even the gods had their flaws and hubris. What was important, at least to Loki, was that Steve tried to be better than whatever flaws and failings he could claim as his own.

"I'm fine to walk, yeah." To a degree at least. Not like he would admit it if he wasn't, and in this state it would be questionable if he'd notice. But luckily Loki seemed steady enough with Steve's assistance, even if he seemed reluctant to move away from him either way. At least that hinted that his want to stay would override his desire to avoid awkward questions.

"Usually we don't really bother for bruises. Salves tend to ease any discomfort and we heal a bit faster than humans do so..." A small shrug, letting Steve lead him further into the Tower and away from the outside world, at least for the moment.

Maybe that's all any human being can do, in the end: to know they're flawed and try to be better. It's fucking exhausting, but then Steve's never been the type to take the path of least resistance. More the opposite, much to his friends' amusement and annoyance.

He's read some mythology by this point, in a possibly-misguided attempt to catch up on this brave new world he's found himself in, which is apparently one of nine other brave old worlds full of beings he never ever wants to meet (he likes a challenge, but there are limits). The Loki and Thor he keeps reading about do not seem to quite match with the men he's met, and on some level he finds that hilarious, because he knows how legends work. Captain America is purported to have done things that Steve Rogers, for all his crazy recklessness, would have considered foolhardy and/or impossible. Still, maybe there's a grain of truth in all of these stories. He wonders about Loki when he looks out the window at a bright sliver of moon, and now he wonders if there's some sort of healing herb he should have been keeping around just in case of a crisis.

"I have some witch hazel," he offers. "Extract, I mean. Probably suspended in rubbing alcohol. My mother used to use it for bruises."

It works better than ibuprofen, he finds, for after-training aches. That says something about it's efficacy, maybe. Or maybe pain is mostly psychosomatic for Steve up until it comes from an injury as serious as a gunshot wound.

He keeps close to Loki in the elevator, and guides him gently, quietly, down the hall until they reach his own suite of rooms. He's likely at least seen this by now. It's very, very tidy; the bed always seems to be made, the clothes always put away. Tonight is no exception, and he guides Loki to the sofa and tugs an extra cushion off the windowseat for his upper back.

It’s all anyone can do, human or not. Loki’s been trying, no matter the odds against him. Those self-same myths and legends trying to pull him back to the way every other incarnation had been, insanity and burning that so often personified being Loki. But the Boy had proven they could be different. That change was possible, so who was he to do anything other than try to live up to that same example?

“That should be just fine…” Mumbled in response as he just stayed tucked close to Steve, letting the man lead him to his own room. Sure he’d been there before, but that was usually just a brief foray- checking for the man to drag him out for some fun or mischief. He’d never really stopped to give the place a good look-over before. And while he might usually tease about how neat and tidy things were, that self-same trait here was… comforting. At least a little.

“Topical treatments work the same, it’s the stuff you have to take by mouth or have injected that’s a toss-up.” Sitting with his back against anything? Wasn’t going to happen, not just yet. So instead when Loki settled down, he did so carefully, easing himself to sit, a few inches of empty space between the cushions and his back, leaning his weight against the arm of the couch.

This would probably only last until Steve himself decided to sit, at which point he would be the god’s new makeshift pillow.

Steve helps him sit on the couch, then closes and locks the door, draws the blinds, and turns the lights on low. Soft, dim light, enough to see by, but gentle to the eyes. He gives him a reassuring smile as he heads for his bathroom to fetch the witch hazel, but there's a flash of concern when he notices the way hes sitting, leaning. Like he's stiff or injured.

Just bruises, he'd said, but that's an indicator of some impressive bruising. He makes a soft, uncertain hum, but hastens to get what he intended. He comes back out of the bathroom with a bottle, a towel, and a couple washcloths, and sets them on the coffee table within reach. Then he stands a moment, considering, and watching Loki's body language.

"...I think maybe you should let me take a look," he says quietly. "I know you're going to heal fast, but you're obviously sore."

He sits beside him then, and puts his hand against the back of his neck, ruffling his hair a little. "What do you really need, though? Just contact? Company?"

I wish you wouldn't do this to yourself. He doesn't voice that thought out loud. As much as he understands it's consensual, what Loki gets up to, an expression of his desires, truly something he's doing to himself, choosing for himself...it doesn't feel right, to see him like this. Not without trying to protect him from a recurrence.

"Do you even actually know what you need?" He says without thinking, and then feels bad he phrased it that way and tries to soften it by putting out his arms in an offer to hold him again.

It was certainly telling, when instead of deflecting or denying the offer of assistance with a smile and casual wave of his hand, Loki just... nodded.

"Probably not a bad idea." Spoken not much louder than Steve was, subdued in the same way his body language was. Just leaning slightly into that light run of fingers over his hair, craving the contact even if he wasn't entirely aware of the way he'd responded. And in truth, Steve didn't need to feel bad about his phrasing, as the comment was almost identical to what his question had sent rattling through Loki's thoughts, so similar that it startled a laugh from him, something thin and brittle no matter the bloom of ache it brought with it.

"Do I ever?" He muttered, even as he shifted the way he sat to just burrow into the offered embrace, legs drawing up to let him curl more securely against the man. He barely even knew what he was looking for in these sessions he'd indulge in, which might explain why he'd been drawing such poor partners lately, the ones who saw the self-destructive guilt he carried and fed into it instead of digging deeper. It was a hard thing to say they were doing it wrong when that little voice in the back of his head just said he deserved it all, with that same guilt scratching up and down his spine almost exactly like the ache of fresh bruises.

"Ohhh..." Both concerned and dismayed, Steve sighs and gathers the young man closer. "I didn't mean that to sound harsh..."

Although, really, Steve is capable of brutal honesty, but that was more of an impulsive outburst. In any case, he's more of a mind to be reassuring right now. He's going to have to move in a short while to get a look at these bruises, but he's sure they're nothing immediately threatening to Loki's life or long-term health, so they can wait.

He's going to keep stroking his hair as long as he's getting away with it. "You're pretty reckless," he tells Loki with a sigh. "And I'm not sure I'm the right guy to tell you not to be."

Which may be why he's come to Steve, upon reflection. "But I do give a damn. If you're gonna go this rough, you need someone to take care of you afterward. Whatever it is you're trying to escape or let go of or atone for...breaking yourself isn't going to fix it."

Gently, he tries to cup Loki's chin and tilt his face toward his a little more. "Okay? Just think about it."

"It wasn't harsh." True sure, and the truth always seemed to hurt for him but there had been worse, there always was, and definitely from people who didn't seem to have his best interests in mind like Steve seemed to... for whatever reason. And Loki wasn't upset over it, not with Steve and certainly not enough to want to pull away, especially not with the soothing quality the man's presence offered, that light, reassuring touch different than the harsh handling earlier in the evening in a way he hadn't realized he needed until here and now.

"...If I am broken maybe I won't-"

Become him.

Not something he'd even thought about in relation to his proclivities but could that explain it, this sudden drive to find the most brutal partners available? He'd excused it to himself before as just an extension of his desire to test boundaries, that you didn't know how hard you were pushing, how fast you were going without resistance, a wall to hit. But at the same time that never rang true. It wouldn't be the first time his sense of guilt led him to disaster. With a quiet huff he just shook his head, dismissing what he'd been saying with a small frown.

"I'm not even sure what I'm looking for out of it anymore." Muttered as a sort of quiet agreement, as Loki simply tilted his head to rest against Steve's chest, soaking up the warmth of him, the solid reassurance his presence offered. He felt okay admitting that much at least. And it was true. He'd known before exactly what he wanted, what he needed. But nowadays, like everything else in his life, Loki was... uncertain about his wants and needs, which didn't help matters. Just left him floundering, escalating in some reckless attempt to find his footing again.

Steve stills at the second statement. 'Maybe I won't...' what? Steve can think of a few possible endings to that, but they're all based on his own experiences, his own dark places. He's not sure he knows Loki well enough to guess accurately at any parallels.

He sighs again and resumes stroking him a moment later, keeping to his head and neck out of worry he'll jar those bruises. "I don't want to push you away, you know? If I knew what you were running from, maybe I could help, but maybe that's not my place. But I am glad you came here tonight, to me. So...keep that in mind. If you want to talk, I want to listen, but if not, remember you can come to me."

He closes his eyes, quieting to let Loki consider what he's said and make what he will of it. And in the meantime, Steve can wonder to himself when it became so vital to him that he play a positive role in this Loki's life. It's not just the idea of a potentially useful ally any longer. This is not strategic. Probably that's a good thing. People are more important than strategy.

He fell silent as Steve spoke, still aside from the tremor still running through him. And while he always did run cooler than the average person, on account of the Jotun blood in his veins, Steve would find the skin his fingers slipped over as he shifted from stroking hair to petting chilled even for Loki. Not that he said anything about it, just stiffly curling against him for the moment.

"The box with my name on it." Said in a quieter, dull sort of tone after a long, heavy moment. "All the evil I could do, the horrible person I could be, all inside it. Sitting there waiting for me to succumb to the stories, to the expectations of everyone you'd think would want me to be better, but instead just want their god of evil back." Bitterness there in the words and as low as Loki felt, if he thought on it, he might peg this sharing as a way to try and push Steve away. Not out of cruelty or hatred, but...

No one could be his friend without being hurt. It would be better if the man gave up on him now, before it was anything more serious.

"If I break, perhaps the burning that comes with that title would be enough to end me instead of being locked back in that box." With the 'future' version of himself back home, everything he hated and feared about what he could be at his mother's right hand whispering poison into her ear, he didn't hold much hope anymore that he could escape their designs for him. All he could do was self-destruct and hopefully protect everyone else in the process. If he wasn't in such a poor emotional state he might realize the folly, but when he was upset Loki never was a very rational creature.

Cold. He feels cold. Steve has a complicated relationship with the chill, and while he knows about Loki's heritage--or at least, about the complicated heritage of the Loki of his world, and therefore he has some basis to make assumptions--it strikes him as a bad sign on more than one level. Absently, he gropes the back of the couch, where there's a small throw blanket with a logo from the last Stark Expo (guess who gave him that?). He pulls it down and tucks it clumsily against Loki while trying to watch his face and listen to his voice for nuance.

The even, heavy tones are not reassuring, but they're also very distantly removed from the vivacious theatricality of the other Loki's delivery. The words are English, perfectly clear, but Steve nevertheless feels a little like his friend is speaking a foreign language. A box? Burning? He wasn't prepared for this complexity, but he's never been one to back down from something he wasn't prepared for.

"I don't think evil needs a god," he offers mildly, as if they're just discussing a philosophical question at the moment. "Or a face, or a representative. There's a little of it in all of us no matter what."

He nudges his forehead against him gently and sighs. "You're talking about expectations, or destiny itself? If it helps at all...I prefer you unbroken, and trying to do your best."

It was… a long story. A long and complicated story, and if he were to tell the whole of it, Loki couldn’t help but fear what Steve might think of him for it. Just tucking under the offered warmth of the blanket being draped over him, keeping himself curled securely against Steve.

And if it meant that he couldn’t meet the man’s gaze, that would be just fine for now.

“Perhaps. But people are more comfortable when it does have a face. A name to attach blame to when poor choices lead to misery. Especially Asgardians, stubborn and resistant to change as they are. It was my own poor choices that led to my being stuck with the title. I’m a creature born of story and myth, when my brother decided to come to Midgard and fight alongside our Avengers, I thought nothing of following to oppose him merely to be contrary. A silly jealous impulsive choice to carry brotherly rivalry from Asgard to Earth with no thought for the archetype that would make me in the story.”

The small laugh that slipped from him at what Steve said after certainly wasn’t born of humor- it was barely discernible from a sob in tone. Would he feel the same once he’d learned the whole of what had happened to make Loki what he was? Or like Thor would he turn away?

“You… seem to be the only one, Steve.” What should have been a low, sardonic tone instead just… sounded small, fractured in a way.

Edited 2017-05-19 11:39 (UTC)

Steve might as well be snuggling with a nuclear bomb right now, as far as power and danger in potentia are concerned. He's dimly aware of this, on some level. Of course, the same could easily be said of most of the other people he knows. It's too much to think about what they might do or could do. And as far as what they have done...objectively he can see the argument that some of them should be locked away, but you can't redeem yourself from inside a cell.

Whatever Loki's done or might still do, it can't be made better, or balanced, or countered, by cruelty or self-destruction.

"Well...I have a little bit of an idea what it's like to fight people's expectations of you," he says. "They told my mother I'd never walk, or read, or finish school. I guess that's not the same thing, but it's something. I wanna see you be better than anyone ever thought you could be."

He runs his fingers through Loki's hair gently, content despite the gnawing feeling that he's in way over his head with this one. He's still going to try to help. "Do the stories people tell about you really affect who you are, or what you do? Literally?"

He wasn't sure what to say to Steven. That dark, broken, self-destructive part of him wanted to snap, to snipe about how it certainly wasn't the same. But at the same time, he was brought up short by what he said along with it. Something he... wasn't sure he believed anymore. That anyone ever wanted to see him be more than Loki, God of Evil. But somehow, coming from Steve? He wanted so badly to believe it.

And that? He wasn't sure how to feel about that. In a way it was frightening. Another person to disappoint. Another person to let down, like he'd let down Thor back home. Loki wasn't sure if he could take someone looking at him with that hurt again, that dawning realization of the idea that he might never be better, no matter how he tried.

"Literally." Said quietly, the god not moving from his spot against Steve, not with the warm reassurance of him, the soothing feel of fingers in his hair. "I'm not sure how your world's Asgardians are, but back home, we're literally created from the stories told. Gods in truth, bound to our tales. Like... oh, a bird. They still fly, they still dip and turn and soar, but gravity is still there. They always have to land. Our myths and legends are that to us. Gravity. Others have a gentler landing, but all there is for me is that same box. Evil, insane, always burning."

"It's why I worked for the Allmother. Every task completed for Asgard meant an old myth erased, both from story and memory, replaced with tales of my good deeds, such as they were at times." A small huff of noise, another not-laugh as Loki curled in a bit more, almost hiding his face against Steve. "For all the good it would do. She had other plans, meant to see me hit the ground so hard that any thought of rising past it again would be gone."

Steve is silent for a long time, turning this over in his brain. It's all a little too existential for him, maybe, but he can't let go of the thought of how horrible it would be to have so much of what and who you are dictated by what other people believe of you. Like being a snake devouring its own tail.

He's never been so glad to be human before. Even a weird, altered, misbegotten science experiment of a human. It's bound to be easier.

"Can...people make new stories, then, and change things for the better?" Even as the words come out of his mouth, he feels like it's painfully naive to ask, and hopes he hasn't just driven Loki away out of sheer annoyance. But if no one else is helping him, then goddammit, Steve has to try to figure something out.

"I'm not sure it's fair to blame you for things beyond your control..." He adds in a low voice.

Whatever Loki had expected, whatever he thought Steve would come back with, it certainly wasn't that. Shifting to look up at him, unable to help the slight confused crinkle of his brow. As if the idea of someone wanting to help him like that, to put that sort of effort into his cause was something entirely alien to him.

"I... I'm not sure." He replied slowly, weighing the idea in his mind. "I don't see why not. I just... know it's not easy. Thousands of years of stories, versus the new."

Even his own actions were like a grain of sand against a mountain. He couldn't change his stories, not against the grain of what already existed. As if it wasn't accepted if it didn't already match what was there. But someone else, someone without the gravity of Loki to weigh them down.

"I suppose every little bit helps, right?" A small, wan smile accompanying the statement. Because new stories would help. But at the same time, with so many old stories to overshadow the new, and no way to wipe them away... it might take quite a long time. And he wasn't sure how long he could keep flying like this.

"I had a choice." Not anything good, but he'd accepted this idea at least. "Instead of falling. I mean, you can't be a very effective God of Evil if you go and die on them, right?"

A small shrug as he said this, with a grimace. "By the time I realized what happened, I think it was too late for that anyways. I was too far gone. Once you start burning... you don't want to stop. It's almost addictive."

That sad, quizzical look is both endearing and heartbreaking. Steve ruffles Loki's hair gently and gives him a lopsided smile. "Well...worth a try, then."

He gives him a light kiss on the top of the head, then closes his own eyes. Gods and falling and burning. He's going to have to ask more questions later, when Loki is in a better frame of mind, and when Steve has had a chance to process some of this. "I guess most people get the choice to lie down and die, but it's not an attractive option."

"So...I'm not much of a storyteller, but I still draw, you know. And I have a new set of watercolors. I could paint a portrait of you; maybe it'd count. This is Loki, who texts me at weird hours and drags me to movies and is therefore unqualified to be the God of Evil." Truth be told, he's already done a couple sketches here and there, but not from life, and he usually doesn't admit to these things.

Loki wasn't sure what he'd done to inspire Steve to want to help him. Or to be so supportive in general. Just letting out a weak chuckle as he rested his head back against his chest again, fingers curling lightly in the fabric of his shirt. "Not to mention that'd prove everyone right. I'm far too spiteful to let something like that happen."

Here was hoping Steve really did like him, because he'd never be getting rid of him at this rate. He was... serious about wanting to help, for reasons Loki wasn't sure about just yet, but the idea just had a wash of gratitude rising in him.

"I don't know, I'm pretty sure most people would consider texting you the entire 'Bee Movie' script an act of utmost evil." The attempt at humor was a good sign, but there were hints in his tone that he wasn't all back to normal. Little things, but progress was still being made. "What sort of things do you draw anyways? When you're not trying to rehabilitate evil mythoforms, that is."

"That's the spirit," Steve tells him, half-teasing, half-sincere. If nothing else, he can sympathize with determination to prove the world wrong. He sighs as Loki relaxes again; Steve's enjoying the friendly physical contact on its own merits, enjoying being leaned on and held onto.

It's gratifying, maybe, to be able to be strong for someone.

He laughs softly. "That was...disruptive," he admits, grinning. "But I can see the humor in retrospect."

Actually, he could see the humor at the time, too. Steve has a funny relationship with pranks and games. If no one stands to get hurt, he takes them reasonably well and has been known to pay them forward. "There's a difference between being a jerk and being bad," he adds. "You're definitely a jerk when you want to be."

The way he says it, it sounds almost like a term of endearment.

"I don't know; I guess I mostly draw people. Sometimes landscapes or little details like flowers in a windowbox or someone's dog sticking its head out the car window. I'll show you some, if you want to see, only you don't seem ready to move quite yet."

It was reassuring to hear that from Steve. To hear that someone understood, even in a small way. Loki didn't budge for the moment, just staying curled against Steve, despite the stiffness he could feel starting to seep into his body, the deep ache now that he was starting to settle.

"A jerk? Me?" He huffed slightly, more carefully than he otherwise might with the fresh bloom of ache the move brought with it, pretending at offense. "And here I thought we were friends Rodgers."

But there was a bit of a pleased curl to his tone as he noted the way Steve's words sounded, something small but genuine.

"Something tells me that moving isn't going to be any sort of fun at this point if we're being fair. But I would like to get a look at your art."

"Hey, I never said I wasn't a jerk," he says. "Maybe we deserve each other."

'Punk' is what Bucky used to call him, actually. But it's a subtle distinction, and he's not sure those words mean the same thing in modern vernacular as they used to, anyway. Either way, he's happy to share the title with Loki now, especially if it amuses him.

For another moment, he rests where he is, stroking his hair, then makes a humming sound and nods. "Good. Let's go slow, then, and sit you up. Get that shirt off you, and I'll see what I can do about your bruises. You can look through my sketchbook while I work on that."

This time, he's not giving him much of a chance to demur, but he moves slow and gentle as he adjust his arms around the other man, prepared to help him sit up at his own pace.

"Well, isn't that what people say? Like draws like?" Not that he felt he had enough in common with Steve to be so alike. He wasn't nearly as good a person, at least in his own, admittedly biased opinion.

And while he didn't exactly want to move, to lose the warm reassurance of being curled up against Steve, there was something almost as comforting in the gentle way the other man was taking charge of the situation, and the gentle sort of support he offered while Loki reluctantly eased himself to sit upright with a faint noise of discomfort.

It was easy enough to unzip his sweatshirt and shrug it (carefully!) from his shoulders. The shirt underneath had to be pulled off over his head, and so it took a bit more fussing, especially drawing arms over his head. At least the fabric temporarily hid the wince the motion got from painfully stiff shoulders. He was fine. Totally and completely fine.

Of course that was a lie. An obvious one given the state of him. Raw marks on his wrists from restraints that probably weren't the most comfortable, but really that was the least of the issues tonight. From shoulder to a point that disappeared beneath the waistband of his jeans, the pale skin of Loki's back was a crosshatch of angry red marks, some wider, straight across like they were made with something rigid and straight, others thinner and more flexible, to the point that some of the marks curved around his side and ended at the front. And judging from just how wide those welts were, and how dark they all seemed to be, someone had been using way more force than necessary.

"Go easy on me Doc, I'm delicate." Hoping that the severity would startle Steve enough that he didn't consider the very obvious fact that like Thor, and like himself? Loki was normally very hard to hurt physically with normal human strength. Only when he offset density through his shifting, a thing he sometimes did to pass as human if he expected to be yanked around or lifted, but definitely left worrying implications of the level of self-destructive tendencies he had.

Steve isn't sure he's all that good, when it comes right down to it. He's aware he's got some kind of quality that people seem to admire, and he's not above playing it up, either to amuse or inspire, but ultimately he just feels sort of...average. Maybe a little more reckless than most, maybe a little more compassionate to the weak than some, but just a guy, in the end. A kid from Brooklyn.

Erskine called him a good man. It was flattering, and he wants to live up to that, but hell, maybe humility is the greatest good. He tries not to overanalyze himself.

It seems like it might be impossible to overanalyze Loki. He's way more complex, maybe a little out of the usual boundaries of Steve's comprehension. He'll try anyway, especially when it seems so obvious he needs to be cared about, and needs a friend.

While Loki takes off his shirt, Steve fusses with the witch hazel, pouring a little onto a gauze pad, then hesitating as he sees how gingerly the other man moves. He knew it was bad, but he wasn't sure how bad it was. The raw wrists aren't a surprise, but the rest...

He takes in a slow, hissing breath between his teeth, and looks physically pained. It's not so much the wounds themselves as the lack of caution and self-care they represent. And because his poker face is not the greatest, Steve's worry is immediately apparent. It's almost a sad-puppy expression. He moves closer again, touching Loki's shoulder to turn him a little. "You're supposed to say 'you should see the other guy'," he tells him quietly.

And Steve, for one, had better not see the other guy in this equation any time soon, because he might have to offer a piece of his mind and a punch in the jaw. Consensual this may have been, but clearly not responsible, and coupled with the clear lack of first aid and emotional care...

"This isn't someone you see regularly, right? One night stand kind of thing? Because I don't want you to--"

Pause. Okay, he has no right to dictate Loki's relationships or hookups. He starts over."Because in my opinion, you deserve someone who'll pay more attention to what they're doing. Okay? Please."

Goodness, as far as Loki saw it, wasn't about being some perfect paragon. And sure, Steve could play that role, he had that genuine sort of magnetism and charisma, but it was more... about being someone normal and still having that compassion. That humility.

He hears it's good for the soul.

He could hear the reaction from Steven, and even before he was being nudged to glance back was working to reclaim some tattered remnants of the facade of normalcy, even though he was well aware at this point that any smile wasn't going to be that confident easy thing he usually hid behind, but instead something more dull. Strained in a way. This definitely wasn't the worst he'd come off from a session, and while he didn't say those words, there was something of them in the grim, toneless chuckle that came from Steve and his advice on the right quip for the situation.

"Just a one-off guy." Replied in an off-handed way, as a way to neatly side-step the idea of what he deserved. There were so many things that Loki deserved in his opinion, and care was not among them. But, greedy thing that he was, he wanted it so badly at the same time.

"Well...that's something, I guess." Is it, though? In the long term, it's probably not that reassuring. Seems like he keeps seeking the same experience with different people. And now Steve isn't sure where his boundaries are here. If he can ask him to slow down. If he has any right to.

He sighs, needing a moment to get his own thoughts sorted out, and rises, crossing the room to fetch his sketchbook off a shelf under the window. His sketchbook, which is one of many sketchbooks he switches between with no real rhyme or reason. He doesn't show off his work much any longer; it's not his career anymore, just a hobby. Maybe he should be sad about that.

It's an older style, bound in blue canvas and black wire, and he sets it in front of Loki invitingly. "Help yourself. I'm going to go slow back here; let me know if it stings so much you want a break."

It's not reassuring at all. Because he knows that someday even a bad partner would get uncomfortable after enough sessions, and so he neatly avoided those conversations by... never settling. A different person each time, fresh anger, fresh frustration, no frame of reference for just what Loki was doing to himself in the bigger picture sense.

And while he might not say as much, there was a part of him that did want help. That did want to be encouraged to take care of himself, that he deserved to be okay. Maybe even happy. It was part of the reason that he came here finally, instead of simply hiding away in his own apartment like usual.

"Do what you need, I'll be alright." It might be more reassuring if Steve wasn't here tending him because he wasn't alright. Instead he drew the sketchbook a bit closer, so he could open it and take a look at the things that Steve liked to draw.

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sorry this took so long, rl kicked me in the teeth there for a bit XD

not a problem! Glad to have you back!

Thank you! I'm totally digging this thread Steve is such a doll

he likes to be caretaker.

Precious golden retriever masquerading as a person

just a big floofy blond.

H*ckin' good Cap, 13/10 would pat.

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