(SE) a whisper in our ear, or a bottle for our fears

don't you know i'm no good for you?

Corruption. Corruption. It’s why all the upgrades had to go. Sunjata internally winces at that realization, though there isn’t anything he can do about it. Nate had gone to Safrin without him, without some sort of protection, and for what, Sunjata still doesn’t know. And it had backfired for him too – not to the extent Sunjata’s fuck up had, but a backfire, nonetheless. So, he nods slowly, before he tries to lighten the conversation, before he tries to pull away from the dark tendrils that threaten to reach up and consume him again.

And he listens as Nate explains. The arms and something else, though that something else is quite unknown, and a part of Sunjata can understand that too. Like that part of him that was inherently tied to Safrin within him that he doesn’t know what it does either. “Huh.” He offers unhelpfully, the cup and the cigarette lowering as Nate’s gaze grows a bit more intense and Sunjata wonders where he’s miss-stepped again.

He doesn’t have to wonder long as that cloth Nate’s been fiddling with comes to press against his lips and Sunjata stills into that stillness his dragon shift has that nearly mimics Nate’s own. Okay. He says abruptly, mentally, physically having to bite on the inside of his cheek to keep from apologizing for that, too. But he takes a sharp inhale of breath, one that tightens his lungs to the point where it almost hurts before Nate’s pressing a kiss to the back of his own hand and Sunjata can understand the sentiment behind it.

Honestly, all he can truly do is bloom how much he loves Nate across the bond, as if it might soak up the tension in the air. But then he wonders, if it had hurt to press the cloth to his lips, and if it hasn’t… Then maybe, maybe there was a way. His gaze softens a fraction and his shoulders slump a bit as he downs the rest of the spiked coffee. “What do you need for your eye this time?” He asks. “The same things?” It comes out quieter as he focuses on the cloth that Nate had abandoned, before Sunjata’s rummaging through the drawer again, searching for something, when he comes up with a pair of gloves.

An idea sparks within him as he slips one of the gloves on, sliding the other glove toward Nate, before he’s letting his hand rest on the kitchen island in the space between them, palm up, waiting to see if it works – holding his breath as the smoke from the cigarette curls around his lips from where the cigarette hangs.

i've learned to lose, you can't afford to

SUNJATA

you're trying not to tell him you love him, and you're trying to choke down the feeling

Nate’s one eye flicks back and forth between both of his husbands steely ones, brows furrowing tightly as he searches for something. Good. He doesn’t blink once, the entire time. Doesn’t shift an inch, except to lean in closer. And to lean back completely, when he finally does, the ascended standing at his full height just to loom. An almost apology is reason enough to maintain the threat longer.

While it doesn’t soak up any tension, the mental hug of love does increase the limits on his patience, just slightly. Nate thinks maybe he should feel guilty, maybe he should feel guilty about not feeling guilty, but pure, simple relief washes over him like the driving rain outside.

Truly, he’s trying to keep things normal, trying to keep a right hold on everything he does, but this lapse is unavoidable. A careful balancing act of how much is too much to know now. By this point, Nate could be a champion at the game, but it still comes on so suddenly that even he stumbles. Anything else would be an easy decision, but this is something that affects only him, something that feels safe. ”Mostly the same.” He finally settles on, before distracting himself with another sip of coffee.

Sunjata’s fidgeting is hard to ignore, but between everything else Nate manages. Honestly, he doesn’t even notice the glove for a moment, that single blue eye slipping towards the covered eye slowly, understanding trailing behind it. And even when the penny drops, Nate’s slow to move. It’s a process.

Set the mug down.

Pull the glove on.

Hesitate a breath, before grabbing Sunjata’s hand in a vicelike grip.

Brace.

Nothing happens though. No crackling pain, no physical at all. It’s not touching. It’s so simple it feels like cheating, like it’s going to backfire on him, even if it’s the same damn trick he’d used moments earlier. Pressure, and weight, and the maybe imaginary suggestion of warmth. So little that it makes what he’d had before seem like a dream.

Eyes flutter shut, and Nate exhales a breath he’d been holding for far too long. ”F-Fuck.” A single word that tries to escape as a growl, betrayed immediately by the quaver in his voice. His head drops into his hand as every ounce of willpower he has focuses on not squeezing too tightly for fear of breaking something. It’s the same reason he shakes like a leaf, certainly not because of the days of festering emotion all trying to press through this single pinhole of contact.

& you're trembling and he reaches over

and touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist

NATE

don't you know i'm no good for you?

The looming threat for Sunjata doesn’t sway him. It doesn’t even register at first when the idea hits, a chance to try and do something to break this… Horrible feeling Sunjata has from being unable to convey everything he wants to. So he nods idly as he rummages, as he finds the gloves, as he slips one on and slides the other over toward Nate, and he waits with bated breath, palm up, heart thundering in his ears.

He stares at his hand as if it might go up in flame the second they connect. He’s idly aware of Nate setting down the mug, of slipping on the glove, and the hesitation before his hand is grabbed so tightly Sunjata thinks it might put his pieces back together. His eyes lift, immediately, darting to Nate’s face to spy for any sign of pain.

And there isn’t any.

This is… Working.

Tears well up again in his gaze as he squeezes Nate’s hand back, just as tight, just as if this connection was worlds apart and the second it broke they’d be lost adrift again. He tries to blink the tears away, swallowing against the tightness of his throat as Nate trembles, as he trembles, his thumb rising to stroke gently against the back of Nate’s hand silently. “I love you, Nate.” He chokes out, through the bond and aloud, as if he can’t not say it when they can finally touch. It’s their own makeshift glue that keeps him from fracturing completely, and he squeezes Nate’s hand as far as he can.

“I think we have another set of gloves if we… Want to try it.” He manages to choke out, using his free hand to pull the cigarette from his lips and putting it out in the ashtray. “I want to try it.” He wants to be able to cup Nate’s face in both of his hands, to stroke along those sharp cheekbones and jawline and both reassure himself and his husband one simple thing.

Everything is going to be okay.

i've learned to lose, you can't afford to

SUNJATA

you're trying not to tell him you love him, and you're trying to choke down the feeling

All Nate can do is gasp in a ragged breath while his mind scatters in a dozen directions, emotions blooming and dying away in a constant clamour. Somewhere within the mental noise, there’s words, I know and I love you and endless curses and promises.

Yes. He says silently, the single syllable almost breaking him. Almost. Nate bounces back in a moment, something manic taking over, forcing him to rise again, his empty hand smearing away the fluid leaking from his eyes. ”Yes! With the uh, the Halo,” he snaps, mind and body both moving too quickly. That connection refuses to break as he steps towards the front hall, Nate strong enough to drag Sunjata no matter what the other man wanted. ”We, we uh, we,” while his mouth is stuck, his mind isn’t, though the words are almost too fast paced to make out, got you that nice leather pair, remember? Buttery soft and warm, but crafted thin enough to allow a degree of flexibility.

Grabbing a box off the nearby shelf, he digs through it, no thought spared to how crazy he might look. None spared to how crazy he feels, hyper focused on this one single pair of gloves that he throws a different pair to the side, not noticing at all. Of course, the gloves are right near the bottom (first thing you take off) but as soon as he see them Nate goes very suddenly still again. Lifting them out of the box like they’re made of gold, Nate let’s put a breath, then turns to find Sunjata’s gaze, wordlessly handing a single glove over. Even his side of the bond is a low hum, all of the ascended working on pure impulse and not thought.

Except, of course, the moments spent pondering how to get a glove on with only one hand. It’s an eel ward struggle, culminating in Nate scraping the hand against his leg with the glove half on, a task made harder by the tight fit of the leather. No sooner is the bulk of his hand covered than he’s reaching out, trying to help Sunjata with the same fruitless task.

& you're trembling and he reaches over

and touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist

NATE

don't you know i'm no good for you?

The mixture of emotions are rebounded and felt like a flood, one that melds and mixes into Sunjata’s own outpouring. There’s a shuddering breath of an inhale before Sunjata’s squeezing Nate’s hand again, offering a tendril of a thought, of another pair of gloves for another connection. The answer is instant and Sunjata tries not to sag with the relief of it. He doesn’t really get a chance to, blinking back tears and focusing on his husband as the train of thought is both met even if it doesn’t quite match up to anyone else if they were listening.

He doesn’t even have time to answer as Nate’s moving – quick as always – and Sunjata stumbles, gripping Nate’s hand tighter as he moves to regain his feet underneath him, deciding that he wouldn’t want to remove his hand from Nate’s even if it meant falling to the floor with him. He doesn’t, though, and manages to reach the hallway. “The good pair, yeah. Warm and thick.” He agrees with a shaky tone to his voice in comparison to Nate’s manic tones.

Sunjata does reach for the glove that’s discarded before Nate finds the good pair, and his gaze lifts to meet Nate’s as the glove is handed over and Sunjata moves to try and stick his hand into it. Nate frantically jostling and moving around doesn’t help the Flood much, but Sunjata manages to stick the edge of the glove between his teeth to try and tug it on, getting it about halfway before Nate’s glove is on completely and he’s offering some semblance of help for the Attuned to get it on.

And then it is.

And then it is. And Sunjata’s holding his breath again, reaching for Nate’s other hand, connecting them in a small circle, before he decides fuck it. Let me know if it hurts. He says shakily, his tone taking on something akin to an order of sorts, before he’s letting go of Nate’s hands – not for long though, not as those hands raise to cup Nate’s face between both his hands, his fingers running along beneath Nate’s ears, his thumbs brushing along Nate’s jaw. Cradling him. Holding him.

There’s nothing but a mix of elation and relief that spreads through Sunjata, paired with the realization and the exhaustion of the earlier panic finally coming through. He can’t help the slight tremble of his lips as he smiles, as his eyes crease with a bit of tears, a bit of happiness finally at this. But he has to tear his gaze away, to tilt his chin toward the ceiling to blink back the tears again as he takes a long, shuddering breath. "Gods." He whispers, lowering his head to scan Nate's face again.

i've learned to lose, you can't afford to

SUNJATA

you're trying not to tell him you love him, and you're trying to choke down the feeling

If there is one thing in the world that Nate does not want to do right now, it’s let go of Sunjata’s hand. Even for a moment, even for something better. He fights it, grip only loosening in fits and spurts until his hand is once again empty. Some low keening threatens to start from deep in his chest, if the words words didn’t suddenly click. Leaning in expectantly and nodding, the ascended tries to offer what he considers to be a reassuring flicker of a smile, though gods only know how it actually looked. Obviously Nate lies, knowing he will do his utmost to wring everything out of this discovery. Knowing just as well that this burn is not something he’ll be able to hide from his face for long. That makes it better, right? Less of a lie?

It doesn’t matter at all though, because Sunjata’s hands rise and cradle his face, and Nate doesn’t feel any of the pain. Just a too cool, too smooth pressure, firm around his jaw. A shuddering gasp of sound leaves the ascended, his husband apparently the only thing that can trick his lungs into moving right now. No part of this is enough, but when he thought he’d have nothing it’s absolutely heavenly. You don’t know what you have until it’s gone. But it will come back. He will come back. A certain sentiment, in this fractured moment, shared helplessly, wordlessly through the ring.

Nate sags into his husbands hands, something in him breaking and leaking audibly out of his mouth. A sob, but not, pinched and hidden behind a dozen crumbling walls. Eyes squeeze shut tightly, his jaw trying to follow suit if only to minimize the trembling. His hands rise after a moment that feels much longer, pressing against Sunjata’s chest just because he can. He doesn’t need to look to set his hand over the constellation marring the attuned’s chest, just needs to follow the prickling discomfort until it’s most obvious under his hand. Pushing against it, it almost seems like Nate is trying to push his husband away, if not for how desperately his face squishes into gloved hands.

Breath heaves from Nate in a quick pant, if only so something fills his ears. It should the thundering of his heart, but it stays stubbornly still, immune to his emotional pleas and desires. His eye opens again, slowly, focusing my through tears at the long line of Sunjata’s throat, the silvery marks pressed into every inch of it. ”Hey.” He breathes, so softly it doesn’t even sound like a word, though it seems to work, the other man’s gaze finding his own again. Nate tries to force shaking lips into a grin, can’t get the curves of it right, in the same way that he can’t get the right edge to his words. ”Y’dont gotta look up there. ‘M right here.”

& you're trembling and he reaches over

and touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist

NATE

don't you know i'm no good for you?

There’s a thin, silver line of hope among the rest of all of this as Sunjata holds his breath, as his hand parts from Nate’s despite the amount of internal hurt and struggle it causes. It doesn’t last long, the obviously from Nate is met with a small, amused smile from Sunjata among the emotions swirling in his gaze and through the bond. His hands rise, cupping Nate’s face, and when nothing happens it’s relief. Nate sags into his hands and clutches as his chest, pressing against the constellation in his skin with such a force it almost seems like he’s trying to push him away.

Sunjata knows better, though. He knows it isn’t him Nate’s trying to shove out. It’s Safrin. And it’s all Sunjata can do to keep his grip on Nate, to stroke his cheek with his thumbs, down to the corner of his lips, pausing to relish in the relief and closeness they have right now as he stares at the ceiling, blinking back tears before he manages to scan his husbands face. The breathy word, the sentence that’s thick with Nate’s accent is like music to the Attuned’s ears, and his lips tremble when he tries to smile, clamping them shut into a fine line.

“My Skatjie” He whispers like a prayer, letting his swimming steel gaze commit Nate’s face to memory for the millionth time. One of his hands rises, thumb brushing along the edge of the scar that bisects Nate’s face, before his gloved fingers run up along Nate’s temple, dragging through the dark curls there, until his hand ends at Nate’s neck, on the silvery faint claw scars there. He continues to peer at his husband, chest tightening, swallowing hard against the tightness of his throat.

He almost asks what he’s going to do without him, but he refrains. The crease of his eyes, the furrow of his brows as he tries to keep himself from falling apart are evidence enough. “My moonlight.” He settles on instead.

i've learned to lose, you can't afford to

SUNJATA

you're trying not to tell him you love him, and you're trying to choke down the feeling

It's rare that Nate feels vulnerable like this, that he allows himself to be vulnerable like this, but Sunjata has become his weak point. A danger, especially where they stand now, on opposite sides of a battleground. Right now it doesn't matter. Right now he can fall apart, can press into the gaze and the touches against him, can sniffle softly as if it makes any difference.

A single blue eye stares into steel, unblinking and watery. Nate has absolutely no idea what he's looking for, no idea what to sat, but isn't that why they need this? Isn't that what the touch is supposed to mean? I'm here, I'm yours.

One of Nate's hand's lifts, pawing awkwardly at the attuned's face, all the intention and none of the grace he usually has. "M'sunshine." Even if he doesn't really say it, the word my echoes in the bond. He sucks in a deep, shaking breath, blinking away tears so he can focus on Sunjata. There are subtleties on his husbands face that Nate can't read right now, except to say the first thing on his mind. "What am I going to do without you?" It's a breathless mumble, fluid tears falling and pooling against the hands on his face.

& you're trembling and he reaches over

and touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist

NATE

don't you know i'm no good for you?

Sunjata is vulnerable too, in ways that he never allowed himself to be. Only for Nate, only because he gets it, and Sunjata doesn’t ever have to explain himself more than that. He can’t help the swimming tears, the way his face twitches and his lips tremble as he tries to keep them from falling. And gods is it a valiant effort as Nate paws at his face, as Sunjata’s scar bunches up much the same as the one that bisects Nate’s face, the one that Sunjata strokes the edge of with his thumb.

My sunshine. Sunjata keeps it together well enough, a soft smile — nearly blubbering as it is — greets Nate’s response, but one that shifts quickly into a trembling fine line as Nate says exactly what’s on his mind. Nate’s tears fall and pool against his gloved hands and Sunjata can’t keep his from falling too — a weak sound of protest leaving him in the form of a whine, so doglike that the fur of it covers his shoulders, his torso, hiding away the tattoos and everything else. What am I going to do, too? He says mentally, but shakily, giving Nate’s face a light wiggle, exhaling a choked sigh.

i've learned to lose, you can't afford to

SUNJATA

you're trying not to tell him you love him, and you're trying to choke down the feeling

”Shhhh, shhh my darling.” The words seem to leave him automatically, not a thought flickering in his head or behind his eye except for the soft reverb of my. My sunshine, my darling, my husband. ”I’ve got you.” Even if he’s the one breaking down, the one crying.

God, has he ever wanted to hug Sunjata so badly? The only time that comes to mind is when he’d been with Maea, when Nate had lied and nodded and said they could keep their distance.

The hand on Sunjata’s chest falls away as fur covers Safrin’s mark, losing purpose and lagging to find another. Until Nate remembers there’s a whole side of the attuned’s face that doesn’t have his hand on it, a whole half that he could hold and caress and pretend like it’s enough. ”I’unno.” The words blur together, Nate trying to blink away tears. Wait for me? Please?

& you're trembling and he reaches over

and touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist

NATE

don't you know i'm no good for you?

The automatic consolation from Nate is something Sunjata clings to as if it’s the last thing he can manage. He leans into the hand at his cheek, not daring to close his eyes despite the way they shutter with the tears that gloss them. “I’ve got you too, Nate.” He says quietly, gently, voice thick with emotion and hoarse from how tight his throat is. His head throbs with his attempts to keep his tears at bay, with his feigned attempts to sniff away the rest of them. None of it works, though, it only becomes worse when Nate’s cupping both of his cheeks.

Sunjatas hands trail along his husband’s face, to his neck and collarbone, rubbing his thumbs along the column of Nate’s neck. “Al—Always.” He manages, flashing a weak smile, even if internally he feels hollow. I am yours and you are mine. Always. There’s almost a sharp beat of red furious rage that threads through the bond that Sunjata tries to temper. They won’t tear us apart. It comes mentally with a surprising amount of stillness, one that’s betrayed by the way Sunjata’s face crinkles further under Nate’s hands and the tears finally spill in easy streaks down his cheeks.

He curses the fact they can’t touch more than this. He curses the fact that he’s terrified to break his gaze from Nate for fear he might disappear if he does.

i've learned to lose, you can't afford to

SUNJATA

you're trying not to tell him you love him, and you're trying to choke down the feeling

A breathless whine leaves Nate as hands slip away from his face, down his jaw and to his neck. He wishes for the impossible feeling of his beating heart, if only so he can feel it throb against the weight on his neck, if only so he can feel it that much more. ”Tot die einde.” Whenever it came, however it came. Whether it was gods, or their own hands wrapped around each other’s throats like helpless puppets.

Some part of Nate recoils at the burn of rage that flickers through the bond, like watching police lights through the blinds. Behind panes of glass and circumstance and it makes him want to run all the same. But he doesn’t. Like a nosy child Nate leans in, his head dipping to press against Sunjata’s before he remembers, and twitches up again. Instead, he reaches out through the bond, a wash of emotion too heavy to pick apart into specifics offered up. It’s everything Nate is. All his sorrow and his anger and his pain. All his love and his relief and his happiness. All for the other.

Thumbs sweep over Sunjata’s cheeks, interrupting the path of tears. Nothing will. Nothing can. Not even this. Goes unsaid, though it manages to break through the glaze on Nate’s eye and shine fiercely there, some fire in his chest blown back into life.

Though Nate could stay like this forever (and gods doesn’t that sound tempting) the more sense begins to return to him, the more he realizes how ridiculous it is. Collapsed in the front hall, winter clothes thrown around, holding each other like if they don’t Caido itself will swallow them whole. ”D-Do you,” his voice shakes and cracks, more unsteady than it’s ever been in his life, and Nate spares a moment to clearing his throat quietly, to swallowing and taking a deep breath. ”Do you want to move to the couch?” The second attempt is better, clearer, even if his mind says bed when his mouth says couch. It’s simply closer.

& you're trembling and he reaches over

and touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist

NATE

don't you know i'm no good for you?

”To the end.” It’s a balm he doesn’t know he needs, the way it hits him and crumples him internally all that much more. It’s a shaky inhale, sniffled and with so much emotion he knows that it would be one of such that would’ve ruined him in Korofi with their strong, sneering faces, wolves waiting to latch onto weakness. Sunjata has many weaknesses, but none have ever been as strong as the man he holds through gloves, the one he loves more than he could ever dare to love himself.

Nothing will and nothing can, and despite all the sensations Nate sends over, Sunjata can’t help but to want to rebel against it all. He wants to feel what Nate is feeling, and despite knowing that his touch is dangerous when it isn’t gloved, well, he fights with himself internally from asking his greedy selfish thoughts. Then why leave? We can work it out? The never ending sensation that bounces through his mind whenever he fucks up again and again:

Please don’t leave me.

But at least for now, Nate stays. Suggests the couch when Sunjata knows he’s grasping at anything, and another thought occurs. If it’s okay with the gloves, then, perhaps… Perhaps they could find another alternative. He takes a moment to blink back his tears, to nod a fraction as he focuses on Nate’s face, the way his thumbs press in a bit more before withdrawing and running his hands along Nate’s arms to the hands that cup his face. “Yes.”

It’s a challenge, honestly, to pull one hand away from his husband, to pull himself up with it and then Nate — suddenly feeling so small in comparison to the demigod. But he pulls Nate with him, moving toward the couch where a thought occurs to him.”Just… Sit for a second. I want to try something.” He manages, physically wincing as he lets go of Nate’s hands, reaching for the throw blankets and others — pulling ones from the nest Haai had made, before he’s laying a few of them across Nate to create that buffer. He takes another and wraps it around himself, just for extra precaution, and moves to sit beside Nate, looking over at him as if checking to ensure Nate would tell him if it hurt.

And then he leans over, a show of all of his vulnerability — only for Nate — to place his head on his husband’s shoulder, curling up against him.

i've learned to lose, you can't afford to

SUNJATA

you're trying not to tell him you love him, and you're trying to choke down the feeling

Okay. Okay. Couch it is. Easy, just break it into steps again, break it down until you’re hardly doing anything at all. A trick Nate’s been using his whole life. Step one: pull away from Sunjata. Just lean back. Just move. But he can’t, Nate can’t do this one simple thing, can’t keep moving.

Hands move up his arms, giving him something to move his grip to, something to squeeze. He’s not used to be being led around, but Nate leans into it easily this time, letting Sunjata get him back on track. At least until the order to sit comes. ”Y’okay.” He agrees, leaning after the attuned and reaching out to let a gloved hand linger on a furry shoulder. When the first blanket comes out, realization dawns across his face, and Nate finally sits with a huff, letting himself be covered and all but trembling with an obvious anticipation.

This is an imprecise science, but Nate would take a burn in exchange for closeness. His single eye moves to meet steel, warm and eager and absolutely willing to at least try.

And just like with the gloves, it feels too easy, feels like a cheat that could backfire at any moment. Nate doesn’t let out a breath this time, simply reaching up to try and gain as much closeness between them as possible, careful to keep a thick buffer of blanket between them. A single hand lifts, the ascended struggling to keep himself covered and wrap an arm around Sunjata, while the other shuffles the blankets around even further, so Nate can rest his chin on his husbands head.

I miss you. He thinks softly, warmth and comfort spreading through the bond. Staticky arms appear to wrap around the other man as well, Nate squeezing him tight and close. I love you so much.

& you're trembling and he reaches over

and touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist

NATE