[ last he checked, he wasn’t wedding date material. he did a two week stint as a cater waiter in palm springs and blew a groomsman in the marriott renaissance parking lot, though. ]
i mean it sounds nice
[ actually, reading the invite and knowing what he does about set (on thin ice, for accusing wanda) and shanks (a literal pirate and koby’s ???), it sounds fucking insane. ]
i think the only world here i don’t actively approve of how you look is one where i am suddenly blind so in that scenario i don’t know you look good for a fact, technically but i can still assume
it’s a keen observation. knife-sharp, catching on his not-so-impenetrable skin. easy, maybe, in the sense of taking what he’s given. easy like an assumption, severing the need for true understanding. ]
maybe other people make it easy
[ the passive deception. easy like writing off an addict. or easy like thinking he’s all sad or all sun, no shadow.
(but the serum enhances what you already are, always. it makes rogers the best version of the man he always was. it takes walker’s anger, his turmoil, and bloodies the shield.) ]
not you obviously
[ putting on the moves or putting him through his paces. huh. he finds himself aching to impress, just as he had upon waking, impossibly grateful for armand’s care. tucked between the messages: i like the challenge, too when so few have bothered to issue it to him. ]
[ Easy like letting people see a delicate young man with dark skin. Letting them believe he's breakable. Or ancient and powerful. Easy like being what they expect, what they've told you to be, because it's easy. Because it means you survive.
Because sometimes it means they don't. ]
There's something terrible and beautiful inside you, Bobby. The darkness behind the burning sun. But the boy from Sarasota Springs exists, too. The boy who wants to please everyone. Who wants to stop hurting. I'm interested in all of them.
[ about sarasota springs, specifically. the detail that twigs, when stephen said more than enough for the crowd. he mentioned it in the diamonds chat once, he thinks, but it still feels like val saying, i know everything, robert. i know about your mother. i even know what your father would do to you. words on a screen seem suddenly less invasive than a glimpse into his head. or maybe they’re the same, and their intended effect is all that differs. i know, robert, i know what you’re capable of, i know what you’re for, i know i know i know.
his shoulders square. he tries to examine the idea of interest, in place of all that knowing. ]
i think anybody would be a little frightened less of you more of what you might find in there
but i guess you already have a better idea than i do, of the shape of things
[ that gap, preceding armand’s hand at his back. easy, like pretending he didn’t know what it meant. like armand letting him hold onto a boyish lie, in exchange for a few days in the sun. ]
Perhaps. The truth is rarely so simple, even to ourselves.
If you don't want me to look, I can stay out of it. I can't promise to be unaware, it happens without trying. But I will remain outside the door until you open it, if you decide to.
[ An offer he rarely makes at all, let alone decides to respect. But something about Bobby feels different. Not only because of the boy-shaped hole cut out of him, like a paper stencil in front of a screen. He'd enjoyed those days in the sun more than he'd expected to. And at least he's used to agreeing to ignore the shadows gathering in the corners of the room. ]
[ it takes him a long moment to respond, in part because he sets his phone aside and paces the floor. anything to burn off the sudden burst of energy that almost made him throw the damned thing.
finally, ]
if you tell me when you’re really looking and about whatever you find you can i mean, you could anyway, i guess but i’d let you
[ his hands feel shaky after typing that. jesus, does anybody else with super strength have that problem? probably not. ]
I'm asking you out because I like you. And part of that is because you're interesting. And part of it is because you're a good kisser, and you make me laugh. And your eyes are quite beautiful. And I believe I can offer you something that nobody else can.
[ another pause, as he reads the text once, twice, three times, thumb arcing across the glass. over the course of this exchange, armand has been more straightforward with him than anyone else, except yelena (who is honest by nature, despite the widow training, blunt in her brilliance). more complimentary, too, in a substantial way. and too specific to deny.
he takes a screenshot of the text, even though it’s right there on his phone. just in case. thinks about armand laughing at him every time he knocked into the coffin or his sharp jaw. about all of you, blinking a few messages up. ]
you’re offering me a lot
[ whatever it is that nobody else can, whether armand means his singular vantage point or something else. bob thinks of more immediately. the challenge. the insight. the attention. that gentle hand climbing his back and threaded through his curls. ]
i’ve never really had that much so i don’t know how i’ll do with it
[ that plenty. if his behaviour as the sentry is any indicator, the answer is nothing good. ]
but i like you, too and i really want to see what you’re wearing tomorrow
[ It's challenge and attention and understanding. The awareness that there can be a shadow in the shape of a boy, or a boy pretending to be a shadow, and they can both be the same boy, the same shadow. That there's brightness and darkness, and laughter, and the way the sky looks through a plate glass window a thousand feet above the ground. Blue skies and white clouds, and the sun. Everything you can reach out and take, if you give up enough of yourself. And the price you pay.
How it is to be powerful enough to climb into that sky, and to still be alone.
Armand smiles over the message he gets back. Simple things. ]
[ a few disparate thoughts occur to him. some about the nature of armand’s power and how much he gathers from bob standing there just, well, thinking. others about this room and how it doesn’t feel like his yet, the same as the one he’d been given at the watchtower. bob wishes he had something finished to show armand — but then, armand has already seen exactly how unfinished he is, as a person. ]
yeah no chance i’m figuring out any of the bow tie situations on these without you
[ typed and deleted: you can stay over, if you want. maybe armand will hear him thinking it, clearer than he would have said it: i hope you stay. ]
[ It's an endless ocean, the noise of the many voices in the manor, the constant orchestra of minds and hearts of mortals and immortals alike. A great, throbbing pulse, like waves breaking on the shore. Armand barely hears it any more, except when he wants to, keeping watch over those he likes to know about. It hasn't been difficult to tie a line around Bob, an almost familiar shape by now, so he can be watchful of the way it twitches and thrums over time -- happy, sad, curious, angry. But he's promised, so he doesn't pry, only becomes aware when a particular note rises above the rest. Less words than a desire, aimed at him.
Stay, it says. Stay.
Daringly, Armand reaches out, a voice and a sensation rising in the blood. Pleasure. Amusement. Gratitude. ]
[ armand answers. in the attic, the corner lamp flickers to life, warm light flooding the room. the shadows scatter.
something like an exhale across the line, as surprise melts into understanding. a feeling more than an explicit reply. hello you. it’s the same sensation he experienced on waking beside armand. closeness that goes beyond the physical. recognition of the self in the other, or so the last book he read says.
gratitude, returned. heat, from his rising flush or the glare of the sun. thank you i like you i’m glad you’re here i wanted to see you i like you so much. it all rushes together, clumsy and sincere. ]
[ It's been so long since someone was genuinely, without complication or agenda or distraction, glad to see him, that Armand almost doesn't know what to do. There's a flicker of genuine surprise, a single glassy note of fear, before control reasserts itself again, and it melts away into warmth. Happiness.
Thought-presence reaching, like a hand outstretched, to comb tenderly through the tangle of Bob's being, curving into him like an embrace from behind, a nose against the nape of his neck. Breath over his skin. A kiss. ]
Hello. Close your eyes.
[ An attic in a quiet house. The lamp in a golden circle, a record on the turntable, volume turned down low -- the Platters singing 'Ebb Tide'. Arms circling Bob's waist. First the tide rushes in, plants a kiss on the shore. Armand hums softly, nosing over the back of Bob's neck. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[ He adds a link to clarify. ]
I have a small role in the ceremony.
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really?
[ last he checked, he wasn’t wedding date material. he did a two week stint as a cater waiter in palm springs and blew a groomsman in the marriott renaissance parking lot, though. ]
i mean
it sounds nice
[ actually, reading the invite and knowing what he does about set (on thin ice, for accusing wanda) and shanks (a literal pirate and koby’s ???), it sounds fucking insane. ]
if you’re sure
i’d like that
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I'm sure.
Do you have a suit?
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i think the house gave me a bunch
i haven’t worn any of them yet
do you have time to help me pick a good one?
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I can think of no better way to spend an afternoon.
I'll bring over some of my shirts to try as well. I think you'll be able to fit in them without much trouble.
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think you’re right
do i get to know what you’re wearing before the big day?
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I want to make sure I have your approval.
1/2
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is one where i am suddenly blind
so in that scenario i don’t know you look good for a fact, technically
but i can still assume
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And those eyes are the only ones I want watching me tomorrow.
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are you really putting the moves on me, armand?
you know i’m easy
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it’s a keen observation. knife-sharp, catching on his not-so-impenetrable skin. easy, maybe, in the sense of taking what he’s given. easy like an assumption, severing the need for true understanding. ]
maybe other people make it easy
[ the passive deception. easy like writing off an addict. or easy like thinking he’s all sad or all sun, no shadow.
(but the serum enhances what you already are, always. it makes rogers the best version of the man he always was. it takes walker’s anger, his turmoil, and bloodies the shield.) ]
not you
obviously
[ putting on the moves or putting him through his paces. huh. he finds himself aching to impress, just as he had upon waking, impossibly grateful for armand’s care. tucked between the messages: i like the challenge, too when so few have bothered to issue it to him. ]
no subject
Because sometimes it means they don't. ]
There's something terrible and beautiful inside you, Bobby. The darkness behind the burning sun. But the boy from Sarasota Springs exists, too. The boy who wants to please everyone. Who wants to stop hurting. I'm interested in all of them.
All of you.
I hope that doesn't frighten you.
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[ about sarasota springs, specifically. the detail that twigs, when stephen said more than enough for the crowd. he mentioned it in the diamonds chat once, he thinks, but it still feels like val saying, i know everything, robert. i know about your mother. i even know what your father would do to you. words on a screen seem suddenly less invasive than a glimpse into his head. or maybe they’re the same, and their intended effect is all that differs. i know, robert, i know what you’re capable of, i know what you’re for, i know i know i know.
his shoulders square. he tries to examine the idea of interest, in place of all that knowing. ]
i think anybody would be a little frightened
less of you
more of what you might find in there
but i guess you already have a better idea than i do, of the shape of things
[ that gap, preceding armand’s hand at his back. easy, like pretending he didn’t know what it meant. like armand letting him hold onto a boyish lie, in exchange for a few days in the sun. ]
no subject
If you don't want me to look, I can stay out of it. I can't promise to be unaware, it happens without trying. But I will remain outside the door until you open it, if you decide to.
[ An offer he rarely makes at all, let alone decides to respect. But something about Bobby feels different. Not only because of the boy-shaped hole cut out of him, like a paper stencil in front of a screen. He'd enjoyed those days in the sun more than he'd expected to. And at least he's used to agreeing to ignore the shadows gathering in the corners of the room. ]
1/2
finally, ]
if you tell me when you’re really looking
and about whatever you find
you can
i mean, you could anyway, i guess
but i’d let you
[ his hands feel shaky after typing that. jesus, does anybody else with super strength have that problem? probably not. ]
no subject
you’re seriously interested?
that’s why you’re asking me out?
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he takes a screenshot of the text, even though it’s right there on his phone. just in case. thinks about armand laughing at him every time he knocked into the coffin or his sharp jaw. about all of you, blinking a few messages up. ]
you’re offering me a lot
[ whatever it is that nobody else can, whether armand means his singular vantage point or something else. bob thinks of more immediately. the challenge. the insight. the attention. that gentle hand climbing his back and threaded through his curls. ]
i’ve never really had that much
so i don’t know how i’ll do with it
[ that plenty. if his behaviour as the sentry is any indicator, the answer is nothing good. ]
but i like you, too
and i really want to see what you’re wearing tomorrow
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How it is to be powerful enough to climb into that sky, and to still be alone.
Armand smiles over the message he gets back. Simple things. ]
You'll see soon enough.
Shall I come to your room later?
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yeah
no chance i’m figuring out any of the bow tie situations on these without you
[ typed and deleted: you can stay over, if you want. maybe armand will hear him thinking it, clearer than he would have said it: i hope you stay. ]
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Stay, it says. Stay.
Daringly, Armand reaches out, a voice and a sensation rising in the blood. Pleasure. Amusement. Gratitude. ]
Of course.
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something like an exhale across the line, as surprise melts into understanding. a feeling more than an explicit reply. hello you. it’s the same sensation he experienced on waking beside armand. closeness that goes beyond the physical. recognition of the self in the other, or so the last book he read says.
gratitude, returned. heat, from his rising flush or the glare of the sun. thank you i like you i’m glad you’re here i wanted to see you i like you so much. it all rushes together, clumsy and sincere. ]
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Thought-presence reaching, like a hand outstretched, to comb tenderly through the tangle of Bob's being, curving into him like an embrace from behind, a nose against the nape of his neck. Breath over his skin. A kiss. ]
Hello. Close your eyes.
[ An attic in a quiet house. The lamp in a golden circle, a record on the turntable, volume turned down low -- the Platters singing 'Ebb Tide'. Arms circling Bob's waist. First the tide rushes in, plants a kiss on the shore. Armand hums softly, nosing over the back of Bob's neck. ]
I wanted to see you too.
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cw refs to child abuse
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