{SE} Parallel Lines

Look at him, making plans, keeping up with people. All it had taken was a letter, a courtesy afforded to one fo the few people he could happily call a friend and not family, or obligation. And now he’s in the jungle, waiting for a private rendezvous, away from prying eyes and the creeping fingers of ‘Queens’.

Nate is not hard to find, only just barely in the Oerwoud, and making a racket. An occasionally rhythmic thinking, accompanied by breaking wood and the intentionally reedy sound of his singing. He’s in a clearing, a small pile of wood sitting at the edge, beside a bag filled to bursting with glittering liquor bottles and something that smells suspiciously like skunk. Maybe a little over prepared for a party of two, but hey.

The hatchet lifts to drive through a particularly stubborn branch, Nate to mining his strikes with a crooned ‘[say]I’m gonna getcha getcha getcha[/say]’. He turns when the branch finally gives, throwing it into the pile and blinking at Locke, surprised. “[say]See you found the place okay.[/say]” He jokes.

If he didn't have responsibilities, he'd be spending a lot more time in the jungle. The Oerwoud feels almost like home to him now. But he's trying to be a good person for once and his life and not dip out the second things get hard. Although the letter he had received and the promise of debauchery was too good to pass up. Nate really isn't hard to find but Locke isn't sure he's trying to be. Between the singing and mining and the fact that Locke can literally taste him in the air, it wasn't hard to find. Locke thinks he almost manages to sneak up on the other man too but he can never tell with Nate.

He shifted back only a moment before the branch is thrown towards him and he jerks slightly. Who scared who?  But he grins either way, picking his way over the little wood pile to make his way to Nate. A moment of pause as he looks at the little stash of things before back at Nate. A nod of approval before he holds his arms out. Yes he wants a hug, and no Nate, if you don't give it to him, he will take it.

Oh, Nate is happy to go, the axe (more of a hatchet really) passed off to a less corporeal hand as he steps to meet Locke head-on, arms closing around him in a strong bear hug. "[say]It's been a while, huh?[/say]" No one was counting the disastrous adventure in the swamp, and honestly? Fuck that place anyway. Leaning back, Nate lets his hands rest on the other man's shoulders, grinning over at him. "[say]I guess I should be congratulating you?[/say]"

Without any further ado, he steps back, reaching down to pull the first bottle of liquor he touches out of the bag and shaking it. "[say]I forgot cups, but if you tip your head back I'll pour you a shot.[/say]" The suggestion is offered alongside a wide grin, Nate's head cocked. If Locke accepts, he'll pour a more than generous shot directly into his mouth and laugh.

It's truly sad how badly he needed this hug. But he's not really been touched or treated any kind of kindly recently. Plus there's the urge to out bear hug Nate. He doesn't but he tries. When they lean back, he has to fight the grin on his face. He pats Nate's cheek because he's still at a loss when it comes to how to handle the other man. Congratulations are given and he hums, sighing softly. [say]"Guess you heard too."[/say] He's not so keen on everyone and their brother knowing but nothing bad has come of it yet. And although he questions the kid's paternity, he's not about to discuss that with Nate. He grimaces at the fly that bumbles away from him. Fucking hell.

Forgot cups huh? Locke rarely uses them anyway. Nothing like taking a swig out of a bottle. Or having it poured directly into your mouth. He crouches a bit to give Nate a better angle and gladly opens his mouth. The alcohol burns the back of his throat but it warms his chest. Locke holds up his little basket, [say]"Snacks."[/say] He doesn't know if an Ascended can eat regular food or if it's blood only but hey, they're tasty. Mostly sweets but that's what he's best at.

If he angles his head into the hand on his face, well, there was no one else out there to see them. Locke doesn’t have a monopoly on being touch starved. “[say]Trouble in paradise?[/say]” Nate asks softly, brows furrowing as he notices the fly, wondering where it had come from.

A generous pour is angled into Locke’s mouth, Nate using his free hand to keep the attuned’s face steady as he pours. As soon as he tips the bottle away from the other man’s mouth he brings it up to his own lips, the burn far less satisfying than he wants it to be. “Shit, you didn’t need to do that.[/say]” Nate rumbles warmly, reaching into the basket without looking and shoving the first thing he can grab into his mouth, chewing enthusiastically.

He’s just about to launch into the whole reason for this visit, catching up, when a rustling catches his attention, vampire gourds slouching out of the underbrush. Honestly, Nate can’t wait for the season to be over, just so he doesn’t have to deal with these fucks again. S kicks out at the boldest one, smashing it to bits and looking towards Locke. “[say]I guess we get to have some fun before we chat, huh?[/say]”

Locke's not gonna talk about the touchyness if Nate's not gonna talk about it. Maybe this is just how friendships go. Like he would fucking know. Either way, Nate's question gets a scoff in response. Locke's never expressed open annoyance or anger about the whole break up but it's all there, bubbling up under his skin. He's done his best to be friendly and civil, right?

There's booze to worry about and Locke hums softly as the bottle is pulled away from him. He watches Nate drink, entirely too interested in the other man's lips. Oops. But Nate is turning away before Locke can be stupid. [say]"Do a lot of shit I don't need to."[/say] He mutters it under his breath, swatting the flies away. Nate seems to like the cookies he made though so Locke follows suit.

He's halfway through his cookie when the punkins appear. He groans again, long since tired of the fucks. But hey, at least Melita isn't around. He doesn't have to pretend to like them. So he shifts, smacking one as it gets close to him. It goes sailing, splattering against a tree. Woo!

Nates arm snakes out to wrap around Locke’s shoulders and pull him close, a conspiratorial grin on his face. “[say]Aren’t you lucky you got a friend like me then, to help you forget all about it?[/say]” There's more than a little tease in the words, Nate slipping away again like water, his keenly focused on the other man. Even when he drinks, his tongue slipping out to clean his lips afterwards, his eyes are glued to Locke.

At least until their bubble of latent tension is popped by the arrival of the gourds. As irritated as Locke seems to be, Nate is elated, lashing out with false arms to aim gourds at trees, and, more than once, towards the attuned. Nothing wrong with playing with them a little bit, right?

If there weren't pumpkins starting to swarm around them, he'd question Nate more on what exactly he means. He's also very glad the demi-god doesn't have the attuned bond at the moment because he absolutely doesn't want to explain the heat in his belly. No, he'd rather commit something akin to a crime against these sentient pie fillers.

Oh. Nate wants to play. Locke's tail is lashing a mile a minute, low growls rumbling up in his chest as the man lobs them at him. The first few he manages to simply smack to the side, exploding them against trees and rocks and sometimes each other. Then he catches one in his mouth, fangs sinking into woody flesh. A pause and a crunch and suddenly his face is wet with sticky seeds and strings. Tastes good at least. He spits it out and does a butt wiggle, waiting for the next one to be tossed to him. C'mon Nate, can't you tell kitty wants to play?

A bright laugh leaves Nate at Lockes response, the attuned more than willing to go along with the game immediately, and the demi-god in no mood to deny him. Another pumpkin is scooped up in crackling hands, immune to the vegetal fangs that try to chew on a thumb. Nate does his own wiggle, winding up like a pitcher before launching the gourd towards the Jaguar, aiming just high enough that he’ll have to jump for it.

Unfortunately for them, the gourds seem to wise up to the game, the few remaining ones lashing their vines in their direction before disappearing into the underbrush once again. Nate flips them off as they go, and plants himself on the ground exactly where he was standing, only just barely within reach of the alcohol. A brow lifts in Locke’s direction before Nate’s head jerks to his side in a silent invitation.

“[say]We make a good team, huh?[/say]”

Locke is one hundred percent down to play and he catches the gourd with claws and fangs eagerly. He flips onto his back, kicking it away and watching it go flying. He hears a satisfying thunk and he'd be purring if he could. He can't though so he lets out a growl that sounds more like a chainsaw than a roar. And then Nate is flipping off the stragglers and Locke's growls sound something akin to a laugh. Maybe.

Nate sits down and Locke shifts back, sinking down next to the other man. He holds out his hand for a bottle or a smoke or something, whatever Nate decides to give him. [say]"Yeah? You think?"[/say] Since when has Locke ever been a team with anyone? Suppose he's gotta learn how to cooperate with people at some point, right? He leans back, bracing himself on one arm. [say]"So what'dya wanna talk about? And why are ya choppin' wood?"[/say] Maybe Nate is moonlighting as a lumberjack. He could probably pull it off.

The open bottle is passed towards Locke with a laugh, Nate hesitating only to take a sip himself, holding the liquor on his tongue so he can get the most out of it.

"[say]Just something for the Voice.[/say]" Nate says easily, a finger lifting to press against his lips. He's not going to be saying anything more about it, not going to let secrets fly around loosely, but... he is a very important man, doing a lot of important things. "[say]I wanted to tell you we were leaving. Might pop in now and again, but...[/say]" He shrugs, and lights something that looks like a cigarette, even if it doesn't smell like one.

Really, moving is his only big news. Nate is more than content to spend the rest of the afternoon fucking around with Locke and wondering when simply hanging out with a friend had become such a luxury.

He wonders when he'll get it again after this.

Done~