sorry about the blood in your mouth, i wish it was mine
Some things can't be rushed through, rushed past. Nate has to pause when he sits, has to devote enough time to looking at the other man, to memorizing this moment, this feeling. He's being watched back, he can feel it, but it doesn't rush him at all. The med kit in lap is ignored so Nate can shift, stretching over to press a kiss against the attuned's lips, gentle and too short. There's a handful of things he could do, a handful of ways to celebrate, but this isn't exactly the right mood, the right situation.
Just like that, Nate leans back, switching back to concern just so he had some kind of distraction. Logically, he knows Sunjata is fine, knows that anything serious would have been obvious ages ago, but it doesn't stop his hands from trailing down along the other's chest, ensuring the injuries were only skin deep.
Cool hands move over Sunjata as he offers his answer, Nate nodding along to the first half before it turns into a rambling story. He can't quite tell if it's him, if his head is still fuzzy, still pulled in a dozen directions by the switchback conversation they'd had downstairs, or if it's Sunjata, alcohol and stress twisting the explanation into something somehow complicated and vague. At least it settles Nate, his hands growing gentler as they move over bruises, cool and soothing. "Okay. That sounds like an accident." Really, he's going more by the attuned's tone, And then... he did this as payback?" That doesn't sound like something the recently stabbed would do, but he'd rushed past the details too quickly earlier, too immediately gripped by indignation and anger.
Just like that, Nate leans back, switching back to concern just so he had some kind of distraction. Logically, he knows Sunjata is fine, knows that anything serious would have been obvious ages ago, but it doesn't stop his hands from trailing down along the other's chest, ensuring the injuries were only skin deep.
Cool hands move over Sunjata as he offers his answer, Nate nodding along to the first half before it turns into a rambling story. He can't quite tell if it's him, if his head is still fuzzy, still pulled in a dozen directions by the switchback conversation they'd had downstairs, or if it's Sunjata, alcohol and stress twisting the explanation into something somehow complicated and vague. At least it settles Nate, his hands growing gentler as they move over bruises, cool and soothing. "Okay. That sounds like an accident." Really, he's going more by the attuned's tone, And then... he did this as payback?" That doesn't sound like something the recently stabbed would do, but he'd rushed past the details too quickly earlier, too immediately gripped by indignation and anger.
i couldn't get the boy to kill me
but i wore his jacket for the longest time
NATE
