[ Okay, there's a difference between a mild phobic reaction and pure terror, and John leaps over the line between them the second Poe sees him reaching for a gun that isn't there. Poe grabs on to John, in part to keep his balance and in part because it just seems like the right thing to do. ]
Easy! Easy. It's okay.
[ The bug has frozen in place, one antennae bobbing, multifaceted eyes emotionless. Another moment of stillness from the two men and it crawls on its way again, down to the base of the crystal and closer to them for a moment before it circles back and disappears between a fresh pair of stones.
Poe doesn't really care about the others staring at them. He doesn't really care about the bug, either, except to be grateful it's gone. He doesn't want John to try and kill it when it hadn't been doing anything but existing, terror or no. ]
[The bug crawls closer to them. John shudders. Every inch of his skin prickling with discomfort. Itchy.
Poe says something, but he doesn’t hear it. John can’t look away. Not even as bile burns up the back of his throat, and he thinks he could be sick, right here, in front of all these people, in front of Poe. He grits his teeth and swallows it down.
The bug stops. Retreats. Goes back to whatever hell it came from.
John looks up and around the cavern. How many more are there? Where could they be hiding? Suddenly the moving shadows between skews of refracted light don’t seem so innocent. John’s eyes dart back and forth. His hand twitches towards his hip again.
It’s Poe’s voice that brings him back. John snaps to, straightening slowly. He’d been half-crouched, poised for action. ]
But…
[He looks at Poe helplessly. Wanting to argue, but without a leg to stand on. He looks down.
John’s fingers curl in on themselves, digging into his palms. No claws. He’s fine. He’s still himself. All of him.
For whatever that’s worth. Right now, it doesn't feel like a lot.]
[ Poe gives John a little squeeze around the shoulders, a tiny indicator that he's not upset, before he leads the way through the cave toward the exit. He makes sure to stay far away from the walls, from the formations in the center of the floor, anywhere there might be an insect in hiding.
He can come back and look at the crystals again later. Right now his priority is getting John back out in the sunlight.
Sure is a cave.
Poe wants to ask. He really, really wants to ask. He's not going to. ]
[Poe steers him through the cave towards the exit. John lets him. He’s on autopilot. His eyes stay on the ground in front of him. John’s panic is quickly giving way to shame. Almost as soon as his heart climbs down out of his throat it falls into the pit of his stomach. He doesn’t want to look at Poe, or for Poe to look at him. He doesn’t want to see the disappointment in Poe’s eyes, or worse, the pity.
John planned this outing with the intent to help Poe out of a dark place, and he’d FUBARed.
They exit the cave to bright skies and fresh air. John hates how much of a relief it is. Hates himself for being so goddamn weak, and ruining a good thing. If he’d left an impression on Poe, it was the wrong one.
The best he can do now is pull himself up by his bootstraps and refuse to be any more of a burden than he already is. John quietly sucks in a deep breath, laughs sheepishly, and looks at Poe with an embarrassed smile he hopes isn’t half as weak as it feels.]
Sorry. Guess I have a thing about bugs. Usually I just shoot 'em.
Kinda like me and being closed in. [ He hates saying that aloud. He hates admitting it, even if John already knows. That's exactly why it needs to be said.
Poe gives John's shoulder a tiny squeeze. ] What were you thinking for dinner?
[ That's it. That's all there is to it, as far as Poe is concerned. John needed to get out, they got out. He wouldn't take back the action no matter how many reassurances John offered. There's no apology necessary, no explanation needed. ]
I'd go for anything but pizza, actually. Finn and I have had a lot of that lately.
Has he stopped putting weird stuff on it, or is he still asserting his independence via toppings?
[How does Poe does it? Somehow, he always seems to know the right thing to say. Or maybe it's just that John likes hearing it, coming from his mouth, as someone who's gone through similar experiences, and has similar issues, and isn't just sympathizing, or feeling sorry for him.
And as someone John likes. Likes a lot.
John turns his head to look at Poe, is compelled to kiss him, because he's kind, and he's him. He chews on his lower lip, thinks about it, but there are people coming down the stairs towards them, and John isn't sure where Poe stands in regards to PDA. Or being seen with John in public, that way.]
I dunno, Italian, maybe?
That's... noodle dishes, and bread. Lots of carbs. Wine.
[And candles. Low lighting. Quiet. Maybe even a piano.
John slaps himself on the wrist, mentally, not for the first time since planning today. This isn't a date. Poe didn't agree to a date. They're just hanging out together.]
Or there's a cheap dim-sum place. If you're really hungry, and want to eat a little bit of everything.
[ Poe smiles, warm this time. ] I'm all for anything Finn does to assert his independence. Even if it does mean vegetable pizza.
[ John has no context for why that matters whoops. Still.
Poe scratches his chin. He's been leery of alcohol ever since that night when John came to get him, for more reasons than preparedness. He's never gotten that drunk before. He never wants to be that drunk again. Sure, wine wouldn't be his poison of choice for that purpose, but he's still gunshy. ]
It's... [How do you explain Chinese food to someone who doesn't know what, or where, China is?] Like a buffet. There are a hundred or so different dishes, in small portions, so you can taste all your favourites, and try new things without committing to a full meal. It's good for sharing.
It's not exactly the same stuff as back home, on Earth, but it's pretty close. There's seafood, meat, noodles and rice, desserts, all sorts of stuff. Kinda greasy, and full of MSG, but that's part of the experience.
I always eat too much and wind up in a coma. Not a real coma. A food coma.
[First world problems. People on Earth really don't know how good they have it. John's not entirely proud of the state of his planet. There's more than enough to feed everyone, yet a minority of people get fat living in excess, while the majority starves.
The longer John's away from Earth, the less he misses it.]
This place isn't anywhere fancy, hell, it's kind of a hole in the wall, but the food is legit. Tea's good too.
[It's also the least romantic place John can think of, but if it's what Poe wants to eat, it's where they'll go. As long as he's enjoying himself, John will enjoy himself too. This isn't about him, or what he wants.]
[ That sounds awesome, as far as Poe is concerned. If John intended to brighten Poe up with all of this, to lift some of the weight that's been riding his shoulders, he's definitely doing the job. Romantic or not. Bug panic or none. ]
One of my favorite parts of visiting new planets is finding the holes in the wall with the best food.
[ He closes his eyes, remembering the play of light in the crystals. ] Thank you. For this.
[The look on Poe's face seals it. A friend is what Poe needs right now, and a friend is what John's going to be. Nothing more, nothing less. Not unless Poe indicates otherwise. John's going to do his best not to be selfish.
It used to be easy, to put his friends first, and himself last. John doesn't know what's gotten over him lately. Whether it's losing Atlantis, and his people, or if it's just the nature of this place, where everyone is an outsider, and all anyone can do is cling to each other for comfort.
That, or John's just getting more lonely, and more screwed up with time. He can't blame Riverview for all his problems. Even back in Atlantis, everyone is shacking up, having babies, and getting married, or simply finding someone to keep them warm at night, but him.
He's too busy, or was. Now he has more time than he knows what to do with, and no one to spend that time with. There's Silva, and Rodney, but...
This isn't his pity party. He needs to keep his mind on track, for Poe's sake.]
It's not far from here, want to walk? I wouldn't mind the fresh air.
[ Now that he's out in the open, now that he's gotten a taste of fresh air, Poe is reminded how little he's been out the past week. Apartment to Guard to Apartment with very little in between.
John is so good this, at doing this, at drawing him out or picking him up. Karen is always there when Poe needs her, is steady and solid and willing to support him without hearing every detail, when he's not ready to share them. John, somehow, makes it easy to share. John draws the infection from the wound, and Karen stitches it back together again.
( He loves them, he loves them both, in a way he won't let himself recognize, for reasons he knows too well. A hundred excuses that guard his heart and keep him from the danger of leaving someone behind. )
He walks with his hands tucked into his pockets, quiet, thinking about John and his warmth and his humor and his eyes, not delving into why, staying in the shallows where affection is safe. He leans over and bumps John's shoulder with his own. ]
We could always do a nature survey some time, out past the wall. No bugs there you can't shoot.
[Poe bumps into him, and John can't help but smile.
It feels so damn good to be touched, even in the smallest of ways. Those moments of familiarity, and of fondness, make John feel so much lighter. Like if he reaches up, he can touch the sky. It's almost as good as flying.
Better than flying, when they're alone, and Poe looks at him in that way he does, with those big, dark eyes of his, like John's all he sees, or is thinking about.
Even if it isn't true. Sometimes, when they're alone, John can fool himself.]
Yeah. I'd like that. Hell, we could pack a picnic basket. Make a day of it.
[John's only half joking. He's American. He loves a good picnic. They're almost as fun to pack as they are to eat. He enjoys putting two of everything he can think of that the other person make like, wrapping it all individually. Planning out something simple and good for someone he cares about, instead of a battle plan for an enemy.
The days he spends thinking more about the Wraith than his own people are the worst.]
If you can get rid of the bugs before they get near me, I won't even shoot 'em.
[ The dim-sum is, as far as Poe is concerned, a complete success. Up to and including John seeing how many dumplings they could stuff in Poe's mouth before he was no longer able to chew. (Seven, it was seven.)
They get back to Poe's place as it's starting to get dark. Poe unlocks the door and opens it to BB-8's loud, annoyed whistlebooping as the droid rolls over to demand information about where Poe has been all day. He grins down at the droid and motions John inside. ]
[It was a good night. If this is what being a friend to Poe Dameron is like? John won't consider it a loss. They laughed. Relaxed. Had fun. Thought about and did something that wasn't killing people for a while. That's all John can really ask for from anyone.
They walk back to Poe's place, and John stops a few feet back from the door. He doesn't expect anything. Doesn't even want to look like he does. He's happy enough to say bye from that distance, a safe distance, for both of them.
Then Poe invites him in. John blinks, glancing back over both shoulders. There's no one behind him, and he didn't think there was, but Poe's never invited him in, or over, before. It's always John's place, and John's bed, or wall, or door...
He swallows, butterflies dancing violently in his stomach. They're a little dusty, but still alive, apparently.]
[ No pressure, no expectations, no small amount of amusement. Poe finds himself charmed again by John’s glance over his shoulders, saddened again by how surprised John seems by every little gesture.
(Make more of them, Poe thinks, and he feels his own small twinge of fear.) ]
Finn’s out on a shift, so we have the place to ourselves. [ He lifts one shoulder in a shrug and BB-8 chirps a reminder that no they do not have the place to themselves. Poe nudges the droid with his toes. ] Mostly to ourselves.
[Is that what they're doing? John has no idea. He's stared half-mad warlords in the eye during negotiations and had a better idea of what was happening. With Poe, John just doesn't know. Everything about their relationship, or lack thereof, has been left purposefully vague. Fuzzy around the edges.
Which is usually how John likes it. Or thought he did.
His heart thumps once, like a sonic boom, as he steps around Poe (and BB-8) into Poe's home. It's unfamiliar territory. John maps the windows, doors and barriers with a quick scan of his eyes before noting any surface details. Habit.
Turns out there aren't many. Poe and Finn's place is about as barren as his and Rodney's. All that really stands out are the makeshift beds on the living room floor.]
I like what you've done with the place. You're really running with the whole living room concept.
[ Poe gives John’s shoulder a light jab, heading for the kitchen area with BB-8 at his heels. He doesn’t say anything about the living room beds. It’s not really his place without Finn’s permission, even if the evidence of their sleeping arrangements is right there. Neither one of them is good at sleeping alone.
He reaches the kitchen, ducking down to a cabinet next to the fridge and pausing there. ]
[John bats Poe's hand away, still looking at the beds. Bed. Singular. Not unlike the nests he'd thrown together with bag-buddies on the floor of a mud hut to see them through a cold night, week, or month. He never considered that Poe and Finn might be a thing. Maybe that's why Poe's never invited him over. Not while Finn is around, anyway. Maybe he's the guy Poe calls when Finn is busy.
It's none of his business what Poe does in the time they're apart, or with who. He repeats it, each time more sternly than the last, with expletives thrown in for good measure. Always in the voice of his old drill-instructor. Wrestling his jealousy into submission, and back down into the small, dark crack in his heart it crawled out of. Where it belongs.
John follows Poe to the kitchen, leaning in with his elbows on the counter and a half-smile.]
[ The cabinet is liquor, mostly—Poe pulls out a small bottle of whiskey and sets it on the counter before going for the beer in the fridge. He knocks the cap off with a tidy whack against the edge of the counter and hands it to John.
Bottle openers are for plebs apparently.
Poe is, unsurprisingly, oblivious to the jealousy. He pours himself a small shot of whiskey and takes a sip, savoring the flavor of smoke and the burn in his throat. He watches John over the glass, studying those galaxy eyes, wanting to kiss that thin, expressive mouth. He reaches out and hooks his thumb over the band of John’s pants and tries to pull him close. ] How long can you stay?
[Just watching Poe makes John thirsty. He's mid-swallow when Poe reels him in by the belt. He sets the bottle down on the counter-top, thirsty, but not that thirsty.
Not when Poe is looking at him like that, wanting something from him. Wanting him? John's never been able to tell the difference. His eyes follow Poe's eyes, tracking their movement, wanting to see what he sees, and know what he's thinking. All day he's been throwing John for a loop. Hot and cold in some moments, and lukewarm to chilly in others.
He wants to say something funny. To lighten what feels like heaviness in the room. People don't like heavy, and John wants Poe to like him. Too much. He swallows hard.
[ Poe sets his own glass aside, ignoring BB-8’s boop of inquiry. He tugs John closer and kisses him, slipping a brush of tongue past John’s lips.
And Bee makes a noise like an electronic sigh and rolls off into the living room. ]
He knows what kissing is. [ Another, deeper kiss, the drag of teeth on lips. ] Doesn’t see the point though.
[ Poe yanks John sharply against him, wrapping one arm around the man’s waist and dipping his fingers past the top of John’s pants to brush his ass. He nips at John’s neck. ] Droids. What can you do.
[So much for platonic. John sighs against Poe's mouth, his hands rubbing up and down his sides before settling on his shoulders. They're such good shoulders.
John likes the kissing. The touching. The biting. The attention. He soaks it up, greedy, taking all he can get while he can get it. War makes a man shortsighted. nothing matters but the next second, next minute, and it's anyone's guess if you'll even make it to the next hour, so why worry? Chances are it's all FUBAR anyway.
Rough fingers grip at the muscle of Poe's upper back, digging into his neck, twisting and pulling at his hair. He moves his hips against Poe's hips, denim sanding away at denim, and groans low in his throat.]
[ A throaty chuckle. ] Yeah, best part was when you stuffed it in my mouth.
[ Tongue, teeth, lips against John’s neck, his thumb tracing circles across the top of John’s ass while he uses his other hand to take a fistful of John’s hair. He pulls John’s head sideways, gentle but quick, exposing more of his throat for roughening attention. He speaks against John’s skin. ]
Yeah? That was my favourite part too. [More groaning, and John's already breathing hard, his hands raking down Poe's back his shirt as Poe's lips and teeth make short work of what little resistance he had to getting fucked in Poe's kitchen with BB-8 in the other room.
You really are beautiful, you know that? John didn't know.
John's never been called beautiful before, and he never knew he could want to be called beautiful until now. Why is Poe always doing this to him? Catching him off-guard and shaking him in new, painful ways all the way down to his core.
The soldier in John wants to retreat from this assault. The man in him, who would never call himself beautiful, who is afraid to be alone with himself, who feels something quickly and dangerously approaching love for Poe Dameron, is too stupid to run.
His eyes dip closed, tongue skimming nervously over his lower lip before catching it between his teeth. How can a man be educated, trained, married, survive multiple wars and live to near forty, and still be so completely lost?]
No. [In a quiet voice, his face safely turned away.] You're crazy.
[ There are certainly times Poe feels crazy. There are times when he feels like a loose bit of debris sailing through space, waiting to crash into a shield or burn up in the atmosphere of his cause. ]
You're still beautiful.
[ He wraps lips and tongue around John's earlobe, grazes the skin with his teeth, and keeps his lips close enough to brush John's ear with every word as he says, ] Your eyes are beautiful.
[ Poe shifts the hand in John's hair to the side of his neck, down to his collarbone, down to his hip. ] Your mouth is beautiful.
[ He rucks John's shirt up just enough to slide his hand underneath and trace his fingers around the outline of one of the nastier scars. ] Every one of these is beautiful.
[ Every one marks a struggle survived.
Poe sucks lightly on John's ear. ] Every time I get to touch you, I find something else.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2018-01-31 11:26 pm (UTC)Easy! Easy. It's okay.
[ The bug has frozen in place, one antennae bobbing, multifaceted eyes emotionless. Another moment of stillness from the two men and it crawls on its way again, down to the base of the crystal and closer to them for a moment before it circles back and disappears between a fresh pair of stones.
Poe doesn't really care about the others staring at them. He doesn't really care about the bug, either, except to be grateful it's gone. He doesn't want John to try and kill it when it hadn't been doing anything but existing, terror or no. ]
Let's go.
[ His tone is one that won't tolerate argument. ]
no subject
Date: 2018-01-31 11:53 pm (UTC)Poe says something, but he doesn’t hear it. John can’t look away. Not even as bile burns up the back of his throat, and he thinks he could be sick, right here, in front of all these people, in front of Poe. He grits his teeth and swallows it down.
The bug stops. Retreats. Goes back to whatever hell it came from.
John looks up and around the cavern. How many more are there? Where could they be hiding? Suddenly the moving shadows between skews of refracted light don’t seem so innocent. John’s eyes dart back and forth. His hand twitches towards his hip again.
It’s Poe’s voice that brings him back. John snaps to, straightening slowly. He’d been half-crouched, poised for action. ]
But…
[He looks at Poe helplessly. Wanting to argue, but without a leg to stand on. He looks down.
John’s fingers curl in on themselves, digging into his palms. No claws. He’s fine. He’s still himself. All of him.
For whatever that’s worth. Right now, it doesn't feel like a lot.]
Okay.
no subject
Date: 2018-02-01 05:14 pm (UTC)He can come back and look at the crystals again later. Right now his priority is getting John back out in the sunlight.
Sure is a cave.
Poe wants to ask. He really, really wants to ask. He's not going to. ]
no subject
Date: 2018-02-01 05:58 pm (UTC)John planned this outing with the intent to help Poe out of a dark place, and he’d FUBARed.
They exit the cave to bright skies and fresh air. John hates how much of a relief it is. Hates himself for being so goddamn weak, and ruining a good thing. If he’d left an impression on Poe, it was the wrong one.
The best he can do now is pull himself up by his bootstraps and refuse to be any more of a burden than he already is. John quietly sucks in a deep breath, laughs sheepishly, and looks at Poe with an embarrassed smile he hopes isn’t half as weak as it feels.]
Sorry. Guess I have a thing about bugs. Usually I just shoot 'em.
no subject
Date: 2018-02-02 08:57 pm (UTC)Poe gives John's shoulder a tiny squeeze. ] What were you thinking for dinner?
[ That's it. That's all there is to it, as far as Poe is concerned. John needed to get out, they got out. He wouldn't take back the action no matter how many reassurances John offered. There's no apology necessary, no explanation needed. ]
I'd go for anything but pizza, actually. Finn and I have had a lot of that lately.
no subject
Date: 2018-02-04 12:34 am (UTC)[How does Poe does it? Somehow, he always seems to know the right thing to say. Or maybe it's just that John likes hearing it, coming from his mouth, as someone who's gone through similar experiences, and has similar issues, and isn't just sympathizing, or feeling sorry for him.
And as someone John likes. Likes a lot.
John turns his head to look at Poe, is compelled to kiss him, because he's kind, and he's him. He chews on his lower lip, thinks about it, but there are people coming down the stairs towards them, and John isn't sure where Poe stands in regards to PDA. Or being seen with John in public, that way.]
I dunno, Italian, maybe?
That's... noodle dishes, and bread. Lots of carbs. Wine.
[And candles. Low lighting. Quiet. Maybe even a piano.
John slaps himself on the wrist, mentally, not for the first time since planning today. This isn't a date. Poe didn't agree to a date. They're just hanging out together.]
Or there's a cheap dim-sum place. If you're really hungry, and want to eat a little bit of everything.
no subject
Date: 2018-02-04 03:03 am (UTC)[ John has no context for why that matters whoops. Still.
Poe scratches his chin. He's been leery of alcohol ever since that night when John came to get him, for more reasons than preparedness. He's never gotten that drunk before. He never wants to be that drunk again. Sure, wine wouldn't be his poison of choice for that purpose, but he's still gunshy. ]
What's dim-sum? Never had that one.
no subject
Date: 2018-02-04 03:44 am (UTC)It's not exactly the same stuff as back home, on Earth, but it's pretty close. There's seafood, meat, noodles and rice, desserts, all sorts of stuff. Kinda greasy, and full of MSG, but that's part of the experience.
I always eat too much and wind up in a coma. Not a real coma. A food coma.
[First world problems. People on Earth really don't know how good they have it. John's not entirely proud of the state of his planet. There's more than enough to feed everyone, yet a minority of people get fat living in excess, while the majority starves.
The longer John's away from Earth, the less he misses it.]
This place isn't anywhere fancy, hell, it's kind of a hole in the wall, but the food is legit. Tea's good too.
[It's also the least romantic place John can think of, but if it's what Poe wants to eat, it's where they'll go. As long as he's enjoying himself, John will enjoy himself too. This isn't about him, or what he wants.]
no subject
Date: 2018-02-04 04:04 am (UTC)One of my favorite parts of visiting new planets is finding the holes in the wall with the best food.
[ He closes his eyes, remembering the play of light in the crystals. ] Thank you. For this.
no subject
Date: 2018-02-04 04:23 am (UTC)[The look on Poe's face seals it. A friend is what Poe needs right now, and a friend is what John's going to be. Nothing more, nothing less. Not unless Poe indicates otherwise. John's going to do his best not to be selfish.
It used to be easy, to put his friends first, and himself last. John doesn't know what's gotten over him lately. Whether it's losing Atlantis, and his people, or if it's just the nature of this place, where everyone is an outsider, and all anyone can do is cling to each other for comfort.
That, or John's just getting more lonely, and more screwed up with time. He can't blame Riverview for all his problems. Even back in Atlantis, everyone is shacking up, having babies, and getting married, or simply finding someone to keep them warm at night, but him.
He's too busy, or was. Now he has more time than he knows what to do with, and no one to spend that time with. There's Silva, and Rodney, but...
This isn't his pity party. He needs to keep his mind on track, for Poe's sake.]
It's not far from here, want to walk? I wouldn't mind the fresh air.
no subject
Date: 2018-02-08 04:02 am (UTC)[ Now that he's out in the open, now that he's gotten a taste of fresh air, Poe is reminded how little he's been out the past week. Apartment to Guard to Apartment with very little in between.
John is so good this, at doing this, at drawing him out or picking him up. Karen is always there when Poe needs her, is steady and solid and willing to support him without hearing every detail, when he's not ready to share them. John, somehow, makes it easy to share. John draws the infection from the wound, and Karen stitches it back together again.
( He loves them, he loves them both, in a way he won't let himself recognize, for reasons he knows too well. A hundred excuses that guard his heart and keep him from the danger of leaving someone behind. )
He walks with his hands tucked into his pockets, quiet, thinking about John and his warmth and his humor and his eyes, not delving into why, staying in the shallows where affection is safe. He leans over and bumps John's shoulder with his own. ]
We could always do a nature survey some time, out past the wall. No bugs there you can't shoot.
no subject
Date: 2018-02-08 05:02 am (UTC)It feels so damn good to be touched, even in the smallest of ways. Those moments of familiarity, and of fondness, make John feel so much lighter. Like if he reaches up, he can touch the sky. It's almost as good as flying.
Better than flying, when they're alone, and Poe looks at him in that way he does, with those big, dark eyes of his, like John's all he sees, or is thinking about.
Even if it isn't true. Sometimes, when they're alone, John can fool himself.]
Yeah. I'd like that. Hell, we could pack a picnic basket. Make a day of it.
[John's only half joking. He's American. He loves a good picnic. They're almost as fun to pack as they are to eat. He enjoys putting two of everything he can think of that the other person make like, wrapping it all individually. Planning out something simple and good for someone he cares about, instead of a battle plan for an enemy.
The days he spends thinking more about the Wraith than his own people are the worst.]
If you can get rid of the bugs before they get near me, I won't even shoot 'em.
In honour of your nature-loving spirit.
no subject
Date: 2018-02-18 10:46 pm (UTC)They get back to Poe's place as it's starting to get dark. Poe unlocks the door and opens it to BB-8's loud, annoyed whistlebooping as the droid rolls over to demand information about where Poe has been all day. He grins down at the droid and motions John inside. ]
Want to come in?
no subject
Date: 2018-02-23 03:39 pm (UTC)They walk back to Poe's place, and John stops a few feet back from the door. He doesn't expect anything. Doesn't even want to look like he does. He's happy enough to say bye from that distance, a safe distance, for both of them.
Then Poe invites him in. John blinks, glancing back over both shoulders. There's no one behind him, and he didn't think there was, but Poe's never invited him in, or over, before. It's always John's place, and John's bed, or wall, or door...
He swallows, butterflies dancing violently in his stomach. They're a little dusty, but still alive, apparently.]
Now?
[Smooth, John.]
no subject
Date: 2018-02-23 11:20 pm (UTC)[ No pressure, no expectations, no small amount of amusement. Poe finds himself charmed again by John’s glance over his shoulders, saddened again by how surprised John seems by every little gesture.
(Make more of them, Poe thinks, and he feels his own small twinge of fear.) ]
Finn’s out on a shift, so we have the place to ourselves. [ He lifts one shoulder in a shrug and BB-8 chirps a reminder that no they do not have the place to themselves. Poe nudges the droid with his toes. ] Mostly to ourselves.
no subject
Date: 2018-02-23 11:39 pm (UTC)[Is that what they're doing? John has no idea. He's stared half-mad warlords in the eye during negotiations and had a better idea of what was happening. With Poe, John just doesn't know. Everything about their relationship, or lack thereof, has been left purposefully vague. Fuzzy around the edges.
Which is usually how John likes it. Or thought he did.
His heart thumps once, like a sonic boom, as he steps around Poe (and BB-8) into Poe's home. It's unfamiliar territory. John maps the windows, doors and barriers with a quick scan of his eyes before noting any surface details. Habit.
Turns out there aren't many. Poe and Finn's place is about as barren as his and Rodney's. All that really stands out are the makeshift beds on the living room floor.]
I like what you've done with the place. You're really running with the whole living room concept.
no subject
Date: 2018-02-23 11:53 pm (UTC)He reaches the kitchen, ducking down to a cabinet next to the fridge and pausing there. ]
Want a drink? Booze or nonbooze?
no subject
Date: 2018-02-24 12:15 am (UTC)It's none of his business what Poe does in the time they're apart, or with who. He repeats it, each time more sternly than the last, with expletives thrown in for good measure. Always in the voice of his old drill-instructor. Wrestling his jealousy into submission, and back down into the small, dark crack in his heart it crawled out of. Where it belongs.
John follows Poe to the kitchen, leaning in with his elbows on the counter and a half-smile.]
Yeah, sure. Got any beer?
no subject
Date: 2018-02-24 01:59 am (UTC)Bottle openers are for plebs apparently.
Poe is, unsurprisingly, oblivious to the jealousy. He pours himself a small shot of whiskey and takes a sip, savoring the flavor of smoke and the burn in his throat. He watches John over the glass, studying those galaxy eyes, wanting to kiss that thin, expressive mouth. He reaches out and hooks his thumb over the band of John’s pants and tries to pull him close. ] How long can you stay?
no subject
Date: 2018-02-24 02:20 am (UTC)Not when Poe is looking at him like that, wanting something from him. Wanting him? John's never been able to tell the difference. His eyes follow Poe's eyes, tracking their movement, wanting to see what he sees, and know what he's thinking. All day he's been throwing John for a loop. Hot and cold in some moments, and lukewarm to chilly in others.
He wants to say something funny. To lighten what feels like heaviness in the room. People don't like heavy, and John wants Poe to like him. Too much. He swallows hard.
What comes out is the truth.]
As long as you want me to stay.
no subject
Date: 2018-02-24 02:37 am (UTC)And Bee makes a noise like an electronic sigh and rolls off into the living room. ]
He knows what kissing is. [ Another, deeper kiss, the drag of teeth on lips. ] Doesn’t see the point though.
[ Poe yanks John sharply against him, wrapping one arm around the man’s waist and dipping his fingers past the top of John’s pants to brush his ass. He nips at John’s neck. ] Droids. What can you do.
no subject
Date: 2018-02-24 02:58 am (UTC)[So much for platonic. John sighs against Poe's mouth, his hands rubbing up and down his sides before settling on his shoulders. They're such good shoulders.
John likes the kissing. The touching. The biting. The attention. He soaks it up, greedy, taking all he can get while he can get it. War makes a man shortsighted. nothing matters but the next second, next minute, and it's anyone's guess if you'll even make it to the next hour, so why worry? Chances are it's all FUBAR anyway.
Rough fingers grip at the muscle of Poe's upper back, digging into his neck, twisting and pulling at his hair. He moves his hips against Poe's hips, denim sanding away at denim, and groans low in his throat.]
You must've really liked that dim-sum—
no subject
Date: 2018-02-24 03:09 am (UTC)[ Tongue, teeth, lips against John’s neck, his thumb tracing circles across the top of John’s ass while he uses his other hand to take a fistful of John’s hair. He pulls John’s head sideways, gentle but quick, exposing more of his throat for roughening attention. He speaks against John’s skin. ]
You really are beautiful, you know that?
no subject
Date: 2018-02-24 03:35 am (UTC)You really are beautiful, you know that? John didn't know.
John's never been called beautiful before, and he never knew he could want to be called beautiful until now. Why is Poe always doing this to him? Catching him off-guard and shaking him in new, painful ways all the way down to his core.
The soldier in John wants to retreat from this assault. The man in him, who would never call himself beautiful, who is afraid to be alone with himself, who feels something quickly and dangerously approaching love for Poe Dameron, is too stupid to run.
His eyes dip closed, tongue skimming nervously over his lower lip before catching it between his teeth. How can a man be educated, trained, married, survive multiple wars and live to near forty, and still be so completely lost?]
No. [In a quiet voice, his face safely turned away.] You're crazy.
no subject
Date: 2018-02-24 04:06 am (UTC)[ There are certainly times Poe feels crazy. There are times when he feels like a loose bit of debris sailing through space, waiting to crash into a shield or burn up in the atmosphere of his cause. ]
You're still beautiful.
[ He wraps lips and tongue around John's earlobe, grazes the skin with his teeth, and keeps his lips close enough to brush John's ear with every word as he says, ] Your eyes are beautiful.
[ Poe shifts the hand in John's hair to the side of his neck, down to his collarbone, down to his hip. ] Your mouth is beautiful.
[ He rucks John's shirt up just enough to slide his hand underneath and trace his fingers around the outline of one of the nastier scars. ] Every one of these is beautiful.
[ Every one marks a struggle survived.
Poe sucks lightly on John's ear. ] Every time I get to touch you, I find something else.
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From: