[John does as he's told. The water feels good against the raw tissue of his throat. When he speaks he sounds like he's been gargling glass.]
I didn't mean to. Just messed up.
[It sounds worse than it was. John took the pills before bed, like Carson told him too. Then he couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned for hours. Then he got up and cracked open a bottle. Took more pills. Tried sleeping again. Couldn't. So he finished the bottle.
So maybe it doesn't sound worse than it was. The point is, he hadn't meant to make himself sick. Truth is, he felt sick long before the booze or the pills. He's not used to silence anymore. The house is too big. He's too small.
When John does sleep, the smallest noise wakes him up. His hand's already on the gun beneath his pillow before his eyes are open.]
[ Is this it? Is this what they're going to be? Two people in some kind of broken orbit, telling each other they don't care and then not being able to stop themselves.
Poe rests a hand on John's shoulder, exhaling quietly. ]
You can sleep in my bed. Me'n Finn still mostly sleep in the living room. First you need more water. Maybe some actual food. Something mild. When's the last time you ate?
John knows, because he's slept here too. The only time Poe used his bed was when he stayed over, which wasn't all that often. Usually they kicked back at John's place, or paid for a room.
Had that been a sign? That he was never really a part of Poe's life. Kept at arms length.
He shakes his head, trying to shake the thought out of his ear. They were together a month. They've been apart longer than they were together.
Stop, he tells himself.
Poe is just the outlet for every emotion he's feeling right now. He's just another name on the endless list of people who have left him. John hurt before Poe, and he'll hurt after him. He can't keep pinning everything on him. Blaming him for his actions, or the way he feels.
Not when Rodney, Carson, and Elizabeth are gone, and Poe is still here. Holding him. Even after all the shit John said, words thrown like knives at his closest, favourite target.
Poe is still here.
Maybe they can be friends.
Or maybe John's just that drunk.]
I'll take the water and the bed. Leave the food. I'm not hungry.
John said he had nowhere else to go. That doesn't mean he wants to be here. It doesn't mean anything except that John is drunk and maybe stoned and he needs supervision and Poe just happens to be in the vicinity to give it.
He wants to ask Why me. He wants to know why John didn't go to someone he actually likes, like Jim. But he's not sure John would be able to give him an answer, and he's not sure he would trust any answer he got. ]
I'll bring something in anyway. In case you change your mind.
[ BB-8 sits wriggling nervously in the doorway, making inquisitive noises, and Poe smiles at the droid. No matter what he's feeling, BB-8 will always get a smile. ]
[Then BB-8 rolls into the room, beeping and blooping. Same old BB-8. John still doesn’t know how he’s supposed to interact with the droid. Like a dog? toddler? Furby? When he comes near, John reaches out to touch him. Just to touch him, and acknowledge his existence.
He may be an asshole, but he’s not heartless. No matter how hard he tries.]
Does he get sad? I know he gets mad.
[John doesn’t know a thing about droids, but it seems like a simpler life.]
Why? Why give a droid emotions no human wants. If I was building a person, I wouldn’t build them with the capacity for sadness or fear.
[John shakes his head, which is stupid every time he does it. Because his neck is already torqued up with tension, and his skull feels like it’s in a vice. The headache is coming. Dark and ugly. He really doesn’t need more of that in his life, but he probably deserves it.
It’s hard to play the victim knowing he did this to himself. Even drunk, John’s all too aware of his own stupidity. Hell, he was aware when he was in the act. It wasn’t so much stupidity as self-destruction. He’d hurt himself, and then he’d come crawling to Poe.
John hopes BB-8 doesn’t know what pathetic feels like.]
You know what, I should probably go. I’m starting to feel better already.
Because sadness and fear are part of what keep us alive. There are droids without either. They don't have any sense of self-preservation, either. I want BB-8 alive.
[ Poe straightens up, taking the question in context. Sadness, fear.
God, he can't let John leave. He can't let him be alone in those things. ]
Bullshit you are. [ A small smile. ] You need more water at least, or you're going to regret it.
[John doesn’t know how to tell Poe that he’s wrong. That sometimes sadness and fear are what kills you, because you’d rather be anywhere than with those feelings. You’d rather die than feel loss again. People think John is noble, some kind of hero, but they couldn’t be farther from the truth. John doesn’t volunteer for every suicide mission because he’s brave. He volunteers because he’s a coward. To avoid pain. He would rather people mourn him than have to mourn them. John doesn’t want to hurt, or struggle to keep living and breathing with another hole in his heart.
John’s not a good person. He’s just fatally selfish.]
I don’t blame you. You’re nothing without him.
[A low groan when Poe demands he stay, but there’s the barest hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth.
[ Poe actually laughs a little, at both of those statements. BB-8 whistles, a noise that manages to convey a tentative hope.
Poe doesn't translate. ]
John.... [ Hesitation. He bites his lip, let's it slide slowly free while he tries to think of what he wants to say.
There are a thousand thousand things, and none of them mean anything any more. ] I haven't changed the sheets in a while. Not like I sleep on them anyway, but. Y'know.
I’m not picky. You know me. I’m just as happy to sleep on the floor.
[Did Poe mean to say it like that, or was John’s drunk brain telling him what he wants to hear?
No, he probably didn’t. Poe never sleeps in this bed. It was just a convenient place for them to fuck. Why would he bother to change the sheets.
John had washed his bedding over and over, trying to get the smell of him out. Because he hated waking up with the memory of Poe beside him, only to open his eyes to an empty bed. When the scent of him was gone, really gone, John was even more lonely.
He looks around the mostly empty room with a half-smile.]
[Right now John’s bedroom (the entirety of his bachelor suite) looks like cardboard boxes and a mattress on the floor. He hasn’t bothered unpacking yet. Some part of him is hoping it’ll be his turn to go back to Atlantis, the only people and place who have ever felt like home.
Why everyone but him? It keeps John up at night. He and Rodney arrived together. Carson and Elizabeth came after. He knows the science of it. Technicians don’t choose who goes, or when. It’s not a stargate. People can’t just dial home and walk through.
John doesn’t know whose departure hit him the hardest, and it doesn’t really matter. They’re gone.]
I moved. Can’t remember if I told you. Got a place near the PG. Didn’t make sense to keep paying rent on a four bedroom house.
[ It makes sense though. Poe wouldn't want to even stay in this place, without Finn here. They've done too much, shared too much, survived too much while they've been in their little apartment. ]
Makes sense though.
[ There's something in the words that says more than it makes sense. There's an apology, understanding. Things that would be trite if said out loud.
Near the PG, though. Soon John won't have anything but the PG left, if he's not careful, and Poe gets the feeling he's not in a careful mood.
Impulse takes over good sense. ]
You want to go boating or something? [ A pause, as he realizes how that sounds, how it could be taken. ] With me and Finn, I mean.
[ Not Poe, not just him. ] Doesn't have to be boating, it's just what I thought of first.
[He appreciates that Poe doesn't go into pity. John doesn't want his pity. He doesn't know what he wants from him, but it isn't that.
Right now, just being near another person who might have some understanding of the way he feels is enough.]
Boating?
[That was... the last thing John expected to hear. He turns his head, raising on eyebrow, and regrets the movement almost immediately as nausea almost overtakes him. Covering his eyes with one hand, he tucks his chin into his chest.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2018-07-30 04:37 am (UTC)I didn't mean to. Just messed up.
[It sounds worse than it was. John took the pills before bed, like Carson told him too. Then he couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned for hours. Then he got up and cracked open a bottle. Took more pills. Tried sleeping again. Couldn't. So he finished the bottle.
So maybe it doesn't sound worse than it was. The point is, he hadn't meant to make himself sick. Truth is, he felt sick long before the booze or the pills. He's not used to silence anymore. The house is too big. He's too small.
When John does sleep, the smallest noise wakes him up. His hand's already on the gun beneath his pillow before his eyes are open.]
I had to get out. Didn't know where else to go.
no subject
Date: 2018-08-10 12:30 am (UTC)Poe rests a hand on John's shoulder, exhaling quietly. ]
You can sleep in my bed. Me'n Finn still mostly sleep in the living room. First you need more water. Maybe some actual food. Something mild. When's the last time you ate?
no subject
Date: 2018-08-10 05:05 am (UTC)[He gives him a look.
John knows, because he's slept here too. The only time Poe used his bed was when he stayed over, which wasn't all that often. Usually they kicked back at John's place, or paid for a room.
Had that been a sign? That he was never really a part of Poe's life. Kept at arms length.
He shakes his head, trying to shake the thought out of his ear. They were together a month. They've been apart longer than they were together.
Stop, he tells himself.
Poe is just the outlet for every emotion he's feeling right now. He's just another name on the endless list of people who have left him. John hurt before Poe, and he'll hurt after him. He can't keep pinning everything on him. Blaming him for his actions, or the way he feels.
Not when Rodney, Carson, and Elizabeth are gone, and Poe is still here. Holding him. Even after all the shit John said, words thrown like knives at his closest, favourite target.
Poe is still here.
Maybe they can be friends.
Or maybe John's just that drunk.]
I'll take the water and the bed. Leave the food. I'm not hungry.
no subject
Date: 2018-08-10 03:46 pm (UTC)John said he had nowhere else to go. That doesn't mean he wants to be here. It doesn't mean anything except that John is drunk and maybe stoned and he needs supervision and Poe just happens to be in the vicinity to give it.
He wants to ask Why me. He wants to know why John didn't go to someone he actually likes, like Jim. But he's not sure John would be able to give him an answer, and he's not sure he would trust any answer he got. ]
I'll bring something in anyway. In case you change your mind.
[ BB-8 sits wriggling nervously in the doorway, making inquisitive noises, and Poe smiles at the droid. No matter what he's feeling, BB-8 will always get a smile. ]
It's fine, buddy. You can come say hi.
no subject
Date: 2018-08-10 04:01 pm (UTC)[Then BB-8 rolls into the room, beeping and blooping. Same old BB-8. John still doesn’t know how he’s supposed to interact with the droid. Like a dog? toddler? Furby? When he comes near, John reaches out to touch him. Just to touch him, and acknowledge his existence.
He may be an asshole, but he’s not heartless. No matter how hard he tries.]
Does he get sad? I know he gets mad.
[John doesn’t know a thing about droids, but it seems like a simpler life.]
no subject
Date: 2018-08-10 04:18 pm (UTC)Sad, frustrated, excited, scared. He's a person. Plenty of folks back home would argue that he's just a droid, something we built to use, but.
[ He crouches, and BB-8 rolls over to headbutt him, too. ]
He's my flight partner. I'd be dead without him. Hell, the whole Resistance would be dead without him.
no subject
Date: 2018-08-10 04:33 pm (UTC)[John shakes his head, which is stupid every time he does it. Because his neck is already torqued up with tension, and his skull feels like it’s in a vice. The headache is coming. Dark and ugly. He really doesn’t need more of that in his life, but he probably deserves it.
It’s hard to play the victim knowing he did this to himself. Even drunk, John’s all too aware of his own stupidity. Hell, he was aware when he was in the act. It wasn’t so much stupidity as self-destruction. He’d hurt himself, and then he’d come crawling to Poe.
John hopes BB-8 doesn’t know what pathetic feels like.]
You know what, I should probably go. I’m starting to feel better already.
no subject
Date: 2018-08-10 04:42 pm (UTC)[ Poe straightens up, taking the question in context. Sadness, fear.
God, he can't let John leave. He can't let him be alone in those things. ]
Bullshit you are. [ A small smile. ] You need more water at least, or you're going to regret it.
no subject
Date: 2018-08-10 05:03 pm (UTC)John’s not a good person. He’s just fatally selfish.]
I don’t blame you. You’re nothing without him.
[A low groan when Poe demands he stay, but there’s the barest hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth.
He really is selfish.]
I already regret it.
no subject
Date: 2018-08-10 08:28 pm (UTC)Poe doesn't translate. ]
John.... [ Hesitation. He bites his lip, let's it slide slowly free while he tries to think of what he wants to say.
There are a thousand thousand things, and none of them mean anything any more. ] I haven't changed the sheets in a while. Not like I sleep on them anyway, but. Y'know.
no subject
Date: 2018-08-10 08:50 pm (UTC)[Did Poe mean to say it like that, or was John’s drunk brain telling him what he wants to hear?
No, he probably didn’t. Poe never sleeps in this bed. It was just a convenient place for them to fuck. Why would he bother to change the sheets.
John had washed his bedding over and over, trying to get the smell of him out. Because he hated waking up with the memory of Poe beside him, only to open his eyes to an empty bed. When the scent of him was gone, really gone, John was even more lonely.
He looks around the mostly empty room with a half-smile.]
I like what you’ve done with the place.
no subject
Date: 2018-08-10 08:58 pm (UTC)[ Poe swallows, the knot he's become all too familiar with settling at the base of his throat. He clears it, or tries to. ]
Well, y'know. [ With an airy, joking tone. ] Thinking of taking up a second job as an interior decorator.
[ He wonders what John's bedroom looks like now, and kicks himself for the thought. ]
no subject
Date: 2018-08-10 09:16 pm (UTC)[Right now John’s bedroom (the entirety of his bachelor suite) looks like cardboard boxes and a mattress on the floor. He hasn’t bothered unpacking yet. Some part of him is hoping it’ll be his turn to go back to Atlantis, the only people and place who have ever felt like home.
Why everyone but him? It keeps John up at night. He and Rodney arrived together. Carson and Elizabeth came after. He knows the science of it. Technicians don’t choose who goes, or when. It’s not a stargate. People can’t just dial home and walk through.
John doesn’t know whose departure hit him the hardest, and it doesn’t really matter. They’re gone.]
I moved. Can’t remember if I told you. Got a place near the PG. Didn’t make sense to keep paying rent on a four bedroom house.
no subject
Date: 2018-08-11 12:06 am (UTC)[ It makes sense though. Poe wouldn't want to even stay in this place, without Finn here. They've done too much, shared too much, survived too much while they've been in their little apartment. ]
Makes sense though.
[ There's something in the words that says more than it makes sense. There's an apology, understanding. Things that would be trite if said out loud.
Near the PG, though. Soon John won't have anything but the PG left, if he's not careful, and Poe gets the feeling he's not in a careful mood.
Impulse takes over good sense. ]
You want to go boating or something? [ A pause, as he realizes how that sounds, how it could be taken. ] With me and Finn, I mean.
[ Not Poe, not just him. ] Doesn't have to be boating, it's just what I thought of first.
no subject
Date: 2018-09-10 07:10 am (UTC)Right now, just being near another person who might have some understanding of the way he feels is enough.]
Boating?
[That was... the last thing John expected to hear. He turns his head, raising on eyebrow, and regrets the movement almost immediately as nausea almost overtakes him. Covering his eyes with one hand, he tucks his chin into his chest.
Talk. Talk so you don't cry, or puke.]
Have you ever been on a boat?
no subject
Date: 2018-09-17 12:46 am (UTC)This is ridiculous, Poe thinks. This is completely ridiculous. The two of them here, like this, having this discussion.
It feels a little like coming home. ]
I mean, I've been on a solar sailer. How different can it be?