[ It's easy to press into the kiss, to cup a hand to Larus's cheek and deepen it. They've done this enough that there's no need to hesitate. Carver nods against Larus's forehead, then sighs. God, he's tired. ]
[ Something about the kiss is reassuring enough to draw some of the tension out of his shoulders, holding onto him for a moment longer before reluctantly pulling away. ]
I think there's a bed in the other room.
[ He hasn't actually been in this building overly long, but he does know that it's currently vacant. Many of them are considering the gang activity in the Down, which he's noticed more of since everyone has returned to Duplicity. Larus takes Carver's hand and holds onto him. ]
[ Carver bumps his head against Larus's, a small gesture that's nonetheless become familiar now, and lets Larus take his hand. He's healing up faster than he would have before, but there's still a toll. And he's running on too little sleep.
[ More words linger on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn't say anything until he's tested the bed and they're stretched out on it together. Maybe they won't go anywhere for a while, which is why he'd taken some of those layers off Carver and removed his own jacket. Now, he can lean over him, press his mouth to the warmth of his cheek. His jaw.
It takes a while for him to speak, the words rough under his breath. ]
[ He takes his boots and his coat off, his hood. It's easier like that, and it's a comfort to have Larus pressed against him, holding him close. Carver cups a hand to the back of Larus's neck and closes his eyes, breathing slow. He hurts, but it will pass. It always does. ]
I know.
[ He keeps his eyes closed. His breathing slow. Larus is steadying, solid. Safe, so much as anything and anyone can be safe here. ]
[ He's content to hold him, to rest next to him and watch over him if and when he falls asleep. They've done that before. They'd done things like this so many times before, but that question... It throws him.
How long has it been since he's tasted Carver's blood? Months, really. A long time in the scheme of it all. He'd stopped doing it after it became something serious, something he could tangibly hold onto, and he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, trying to debate with himself that it's not a good idea. It never is, and yet, too many people in this place are fine with it. ]
Are you asking me?
[ Larus cups the side of Carver's face and tilts his head towards him. ]
[ It's gentle, like it has been so many times before, and somehow it still throws him. Somehow, that's the part that hits the hardest. That cuts down to the marrow. When Larus touches him, and doesn't try to tear him apart. It's just what people do and yet they aren't, not right now, not when they're holding each other like this. Carver opens his eyes and watches Larus, pressing into his hand. It's a simple question. He wishes the answer was. ]
I don't want to feel like this, [ he says finally. ] I just want to stop thinking.
[ Will it be the same as before, he wonders. Will Carver fall into that feeling that everyone always succumbs to when he bites him? After whatever Frost did to him, it's something he's always thought about, and he can't stop thinking about it now, the edge of his thumb stroking over his cheek before caressing the curve of Carver's lower lip. ]
Alright, [ he breathes, shifting to sit up a little more. ] Where do you want me to bite you?
[ Because he's only going to think of this as a temporary fix and nothing more. He can't afford to believe it's anything else. ]
[ You can say no, Carver thinks. The words are on the tip of his tongue. You can say no and I wouldn't ask again. But he did ask, and pieces of him want it. Or at least want the way that his mind drifts, and how it feels when Larus holds him. Otherwise he's stuck back in the hole, in survival mode, waiting for everyone around him to suffer and break and relying on his own strength to see him through. Knowing, eventually, that it wouldn't be enough.
In the end, everyone breaks. It just takes enough time, and pressure, and pain. Everyone breaks. Everyone dies. How long would he have held out, in the end? Long enough?
Carver twitches, closing his eyes. He doesn't say any of that. What would it matter? ]
Shoulder.
[ It's strange. He wants to be held down, he thinks. It's not something he can stand, under normal circumstances. ]
[ It's not his neck, at least, and Larus can do this. He can bite him and swallow the taste of him and pretend, later, that it never happened. He's strong enough to resist taking more than he should. Carver trusts him to, so he makes the effort to remain composed as he moves to press Carver down onto his back. Larus straddles him then, careful not to put too much weight on his ribs, and it's oddly easy to pull aside the material of his shirt and push his face against all that warm skin.
But it's not easy to drag the edge of a fang over the spot he intends to bite, hesitating a moment longer before forcing out a breath and just sinking his teeth in. He can blame himself for his own carelessness later. Right now? All Larus wants to do is give Carver anything he can. ]
[ The moment drags out. Carver keeps his eyes closed and doesn't think about why, one hand reaching up to hold onto Larus's arm and the other looping around to cup the back of his neck. Clinging, maybe. But he's thinking too hard, swinging too fast and too hard between contradictory thoughts, and it just -
He has to slow it down, somehow, or he's going to go insane. Carver shivers suddenly, adrenaline spiking, and he almost says something. Maybe to take it back or to tel Larus to do it before either of them lose their nerve. And then Larus does bite him, and it -
There's a moment where it hurts, a little. But not that much, not really, not in comparison to all that's come before, and it fades almost as quickly as it came. The warm feeling rises and Carver makes a low sound, tightening his grip on Larus's arm before he goes slack under him. It hits him hard, like it always does, and he drifts. ]
Fuck...
[ Maybe it's because he's injured already, because he's so goddamn tired he can barely think, but the world seems to tilt, shifting under him, and Carver shivers under Larus. Holding tight to him. There's nothing to do but ride it, and let the world slip away. ]
[ The rush of blood into his mouth is familiar, almost the same, but it doesn't quite taste the way it had the very first time. He should know that since Carver's given him his blood before—just not like this. But it doesn't really hit him until this moment, swallowing and feeling the pull of his heartbeat against his lips as he forces himself to withdraw after only a few seconds of contact. He takes the time to lick against the wound though, pressing kiss after kiss against his shoulder until it becomes a trickle and Larus isn't so tempted to drain him dry.
It feels good, maybe. Being with Carver like this, recalling all those times that he'd bite him and then they'd fuck. Their violence and their intimacy, how he wishes his dead heart would find life again just to savor all of this the way he would have liked to.
But none of that is going to change, and he licks the blood from his teeth and the corners of his mouth so he can kiss Carver almost softly. Nuzzle against him, be with him and hold him until everything settles once more into something tolerable. Larus' hand presses gently to Carver's chest to feel the way his pulse drums, and he kisses him again, flattening himself atop him as carefully as he can. ]
[ The last time he died, there was nothing but the rush of water and salt, and the burning in his lungs, and the hurt. He didn't see God. There was no grace to be found, no lesson in that test, and no scar to be earned in taking it. He just drowned, and died, and woke up at the end with nothing to show for it except for the taste of salt in his throat. He'd thought -
It doesn't really matter what he'd thought. But there'd been this absence he had to fight back down, something ugly and raw. It made him miss the others, and Pope, and Leah. He would have known what to do if there were there. If they'd been with him. He survived the hole and all the shit that happened there, he was strong, he didn't falter, and yet -
And yet, he can't stop shaking now. Even with the thrum of whatever endorphins he always gets whenever Larus bites him, even as his pulse slows and his limbs feel heavier.
Carver takes a slow breath, and lets it go. He's crying, he realizes stupidly. Even as Larus kisses him and it's gentle, it's gentle, and it's supposed to be good, it is good, and he's crying and he doesn't know why.
Maybe this is the part where it hits him, afterward. When the last of the adrenaline stops carrying him through. Carver just shakes his head mutely and wraps his arms around Larus. Pulling him close. He needs that, maybe. Someone next to him, someone to be steady. ]
[ Everything shifts, and Larus is aware of it the moment it falls apart.
It's quiet, he notices, and somehow, that makes it worse, allowing Carver whatever he needs from him and not resisting when he drags him closer and holds onto him. He feels his tears but doesn't see them, that familiar ache in his chest blossoming into a fracture he can't pull together. What had really happened in that place? Carver is strong, he knows he is, but there's only so much one person can take before it becomes too much. Before they shatter.
Larus holds him and forces himself to breathe, hoping to give Carver something to mimic, and he somehow manages to slip an arm beneath him, curling around him. Staying close, offering whatever he can beyond empty words. And eventually, he presses his forehead to Carver's temple, tilting his head to brush his lips against the side of his face. Across his cheek, tasting his tears, and down to his mouth. He doesn't kiss him though, their noses touching as he tries to remain steadfast in this storm. ]
I'm here, [ he whispers again, squeezing him a little harder. ] We're together.
[ Bossie broke like this, Carver realizes suddenly. When Turner died. He held it together long enough to carry Turner's body back, carried their brother more than ten miles with all his armor and gear, and with a knife wound stuck through his back, and he barely felt it until the moment he showed up at the gate and begged them to do something. Turner might've been alive for some of it, Carver doesn't know, but he wasn't for long. Not with his skull broken open, not with glass shoved into his eye. Carver felt the broken bones when he took their brother and cleaned him up before Shaw and Pope saw. It wasn't an easy death.
But at least Turner went down fighting. At least he died in battle. And Bossie -
Bossie died in the fire, held down under Pope's boot. Not because he turned his back on Turner - not Bossie, not like that, not like that - but maybe because he wept, because he couldn't take it stoically when they laid Turner out and told him it was too late. And you cannot break, you cannot be weak. You'll slow the group down.
And through it all, Larus holds him. Doesn't yell or hit him for weeping, just holds him. Presses close and touches his forehead flush to Carver's. He even breathes, maybe out of reflex or something more purposeful, Carver really doesn't know, but it's something to mirror. And so he does.
Piece by piece, his own breathing evens out. Okay.
Okay. ]
I'm not weak.
[ It comes out rough, hoarse. He keeps his eyes closed. ]
[ This isn't a good outcome, not when Carver starts talking about tests. Larus wishes he understood more of that kind of thinking, why it's just something that happens, and even when his breathing slows, all he does is continue to hold onto him. Maybe he squeezes him almost too tight until he draws back to look at him. Carver's face is damp, Larus' free hand brushing over his cheeks and wiping away the tears so he can tilt his head up.
He wants Carver to see him, even if he doesn't open his eyes. ]
You don't have to be strong with me, Brandon. [ That's not what this is about. ] No one has to be after what's happened to you.
[ Nothing that mattered, anyway. The worst he got was beaten, and even that barely counted. What are a few cracked ribs, on balance? He's seen people have their skulls bashed into bloody pulp, dug bone chips out of his hair, seen the aftermath of explosions. Smelled napalm. He knows what it means when people are burned, when they stick to the ground and make that awful wheezing sound before they die. He knows what it feels like to starve, to know you're dehydrated and it's only going to get worse.
This was nothing. It was just a bad moment and it could have gotten worse. They were lucky. They can't forget that.
But Larus is just there, his voice calm, touching him, pressing close, and it -
God, he's so tired.
Carver twitches again, reaching up so he can cup his hand to the back of Larus's neck. Holding steady to him. ]
[ Larus wants to press the issue, thinks this is something Carver should talk about for the sake of getting it off his chest, but maybe it's meant for another time, biting down on his tongue to keep himself quiet. Instead, he presses a kiss to the corner of Carver's mouth and shifts just a little, letting his thumb trace over the ridge of his brow in an attempt to smooth it out. ]
So be with me. [ He brushes at Carver's dark hair. ] Do you want to sleep?
[ Not only can he feel it, there's just something about the way Carver behaves that says he must be exhausted. If there had been no one to trust in that place, he doubts Carver had slept much or maybe not at all. And because he wants to, he kisses him again in an effort to encourage him to tell him what else he needs.
If it's within Larus' power to do so, he'll give it to him. ]
[ It’s gentle, again. Whatever tension might have been there earlier is gone, smoothed away, and Carver opens his eyes a crack just to watch Larus. To see how his hair falls in this light, how his eyes are so goddamn calm now. In the old days, back when they first met, tbis would be the part where they’d either fuck, or Carver would try to kill him again. Swing it vicious because that’s what he knew, what was expected, maybe the only way it could have gone back home.
But maybe that’s not true, or at least not completely. Leah had Dixon for a while, and no matter how that ended, she loved that motherfucker and Carver respects his sister too much to try and claim that wasn’t real. They found each other on the road and they held to it for years. It worked until it didn’t anymore, and that was real. And this is real too, isn’t it?
Carver exhales slowly, running his fingers through Larus’s hair. Rubbing at his head just to do it, just because he can. Because he wants to.
God, he’s so tired. ]
You’re the only one I can sleep next to. I don’t know if I told you that.
[ Larus only settles into this moment, pushing all other intrusive thoughts away as he feels Carver's fingers in his hair, and... he's missed this. He always misses this. It's still as terrifying as it had been the first time he'd realized it, tipping into the touch and breathing out all the stress of the last several days. There's so much that they have yet to discuss, and yet, Larus doesn't feel the need right now.
He's tired too. It just sits differently with him. ]
I figured it out a while ago, [ he says, voice low and gentle. ] But I don't mind when you tell me things.
[ In truth, he prefers it. Larus has never liked guessing games. ]
Let me help you get comfortable. You can talk to me until you fall asleep.
[ It’s dangerous to talk like this, to let his guard down. But maybe they’re past that now. Maybe this is just what they do when they stop colliding with each other and just are.
Carver closes his eyes again, nudging his head against Larus’s. Wanting him close, and then having him close. ]
Leah would’ve liked you, [ he says, very softly. ] She’d give me shit but she’d like you.
[ He ends up on his side so he can drag Carver into him, and they rest like that, foreheads together and one of his knees between Carver's thighs. Things are slowed down to a crawl when they're like this, listening to the hum of Carver's voice and wondering at what he says. Would any of that have been true? He doesn't know. ]
Maybe I'll see her one day. [ Because there's always a chance. ] And you can tell her how we met.
[ It's almost an amusing thought, though he can't help thinking he isn't so sure how easily she'd accept the fact he's a vampire. ]
[ He can't feel the throb from the bite anymore. It doesn't hurt. It doesn't ache, or pulse. It just is. Carver puts his arm around Larus, trails his fingers along Larus's spine. Slow, and steady.
But he huffs a little at that, too tired for laughter. ]
Unusual, [ he says after a moment, resting against Carver and focused on how his fingers move. ] I don't get close enough to anyone to ever meet their family, but if she came here, I would try.
[ To not be unpleasant or standoffish like he could be. Larus wouldn't intentionally impress her either, but it is what it is. He doesn't know if it would ever come to that anyway. ]
[ But this place just made things complicated, didn't it? Carver keeps his eyes closed, trailing his fingers along Larus's spine. Idle touches, slow and steady. ]
I know you would. She doesn't stand for bullshit, but she puts up with me. So, I think she'd like you.
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I cracked a couple ribs. They'll heal.
[ He says it softly, to explain. ]
Can we lie down?
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I think there's a bed in the other room.
[ He hasn't actually been in this building overly long, but he does know that it's currently vacant. Many of them are considering the gang activity in the Down, which he's noticed more of since everyone has returned to Duplicity. Larus takes Carver's hand and holds onto him. ]
Come on. I'll help you.
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[ Carver bumps his head against Larus's, a small gesture that's nonetheless become familiar now, and lets Larus take his hand. He's healing up faster than he would have before, but there's still a toll. And he's running on too little sleep.
So, they move. ]
You've got me.
[ He knows that. ]
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It takes a while for him to speak, the words rough under his breath. ]
I would have killed them all trying to find you.
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I know.
[ He keeps his eyes closed. His breathing slow. Larus is steadying, solid. Safe, so much as anything and anyone can be safe here. ]
Would you bite me, if I asked you to?
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How long has it been since he's tasted Carver's blood? Months, really. A long time in the scheme of it all. He'd stopped doing it after it became something serious, something he could tangibly hold onto, and he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, trying to debate with himself that it's not a good idea. It never is, and yet, too many people in this place are fine with it. ]
Are you asking me?
[ Larus cups the side of Carver's face and tilts his head towards him. ]
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I don't want to feel like this, [ he says finally. ] I just want to stop thinking.
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Alright, [ he breathes, shifting to sit up a little more. ] Where do you want me to bite you?
[ Because he's only going to think of this as a temporary fix and nothing more. He can't afford to believe it's anything else. ]
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In the end, everyone breaks. It just takes enough time, and pressure, and pain. Everyone breaks. Everyone dies. How long would he have held out, in the end? Long enough?
Carver twitches, closing his eyes. He doesn't say any of that. What would it matter? ]
Shoulder.
[ It's strange. He wants to be held down, he thinks. It's not something he can stand, under normal circumstances. ]
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He's alive, Larus thinks. He's there. They're together.
But it's not easy to drag the edge of a fang over the spot he intends to bite, hesitating a moment longer before forcing out a breath and just sinking his teeth in. He can blame himself for his own carelessness later. Right now? All Larus wants to do is give Carver anything he can. ]
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He has to slow it down, somehow, or he's going to go insane. Carver shivers suddenly, adrenaline spiking, and he almost says something. Maybe to take it back or to tel Larus to do it before either of them lose their nerve. And then Larus does bite him, and it -
There's a moment where it hurts, a little. But not that much, not really, not in comparison to all that's come before, and it fades almost as quickly as it came. The warm feeling rises and Carver makes a low sound, tightening his grip on Larus's arm before he goes slack under him. It hits him hard, like it always does, and he drifts. ]
Fuck...
[ Maybe it's because he's injured already, because he's so goddamn tired he can barely think, but the world seems to tilt, shifting under him, and Carver shivers under Larus. Holding tight to him. There's nothing to do but ride it, and let the world slip away. ]
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It feels good, maybe. Being with Carver like this, recalling all those times that he'd bite him and then they'd fuck. Their violence and their intimacy, how he wishes his dead heart would find life again just to savor all of this the way he would have liked to.
But none of that is going to change, and he licks the blood from his teeth and the corners of his mouth so he can kiss Carver almost softly. Nuzzle against him, be with him and hold him until everything settles once more into something tolerable. Larus' hand presses gently to Carver's chest to feel the way his pulse drums, and he kisses him again, flattening himself atop him as carefully as he can. ]
I'm here.
[ It's a whisper, murmured into his skin. ]
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It doesn't really matter what he'd thought. But there'd been this absence he had to fight back down, something ugly and raw. It made him miss the others, and Pope, and Leah. He would have known what to do if there were there. If they'd been with him. He survived the hole and all the shit that happened there, he was strong, he didn't falter, and yet -
And yet, he can't stop shaking now. Even with the thrum of whatever endorphins he always gets whenever Larus bites him, even as his pulse slows and his limbs feel heavier.
Carver takes a slow breath, and lets it go. He's crying, he realizes stupidly. Even as Larus kisses him and it's gentle, it's gentle, and it's supposed to be good, it is good, and he's crying and he doesn't know why.
Maybe this is the part where it hits him, afterward. When the last of the adrenaline stops carrying him through. Carver just shakes his head mutely and wraps his arms around Larus. Pulling him close. He needs that, maybe. Someone next to him, someone to be steady. ]
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It's quiet, he notices, and somehow, that makes it worse, allowing Carver whatever he needs from him and not resisting when he drags him closer and holds onto him. He feels his tears but doesn't see them, that familiar ache in his chest blossoming into a fracture he can't pull together. What had really happened in that place? Carver is strong, he knows he is, but there's only so much one person can take before it becomes too much. Before they shatter.
Larus holds him and forces himself to breathe, hoping to give Carver something to mimic, and he somehow manages to slip an arm beneath him, curling around him. Staying close, offering whatever he can beyond empty words. And eventually, he presses his forehead to Carver's temple, tilting his head to brush his lips against the side of his face. Across his cheek, tasting his tears, and down to his mouth. He doesn't kiss him though, their noses touching as he tries to remain steadfast in this storm. ]
I'm here, [ he whispers again, squeezing him a little harder. ] We're together.
[ You're not alone. ]
cw: abuse, cult shit, gore
But at least Turner went down fighting. At least he died in battle. And Bossie -
Bossie died in the fire, held down under Pope's boot. Not because he turned his back on Turner - not Bossie, not like that, not like that - but maybe because he wept, because he couldn't take it stoically when they laid Turner out and told him it was too late. And you cannot break, you cannot be weak. You'll slow the group down.
And through it all, Larus holds him. Doesn't yell or hit him for weeping, just holds him. Presses close and touches his forehead flush to Carver's. He even breathes, maybe out of reflex or something more purposeful, Carver really doesn't know, but it's something to mirror. And so he does.
Piece by piece, his own breathing evens out. Okay.
Okay. ]
I'm not weak.
[ It comes out rough, hoarse. He keeps his eyes closed. ]
I passed the test.
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He wants Carver to see him, even if he doesn't open his eyes. ]
You don't have to be strong with me, Brandon. [ That's not what this is about. ] No one has to be after what's happened to you.
[ Larus leans so their noses touch. ]
Do you understand?
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[ Nothing that mattered, anyway. The worst he got was beaten, and even that barely counted. What are a few cracked ribs, on balance? He's seen people have their skulls bashed into bloody pulp, dug bone chips out of his hair, seen the aftermath of explosions. Smelled napalm. He knows what it means when people are burned, when they stick to the ground and make that awful wheezing sound before they die. He knows what it feels like to starve, to know you're dehydrated and it's only going to get worse.
This was nothing. It was just a bad moment and it could have gotten worse. They were lucky. They can't forget that.
But Larus is just there, his voice calm, touching him, pressing close, and it -
God, he's so tired.
Carver twitches again, reaching up so he can cup his hand to the back of Larus's neck. Holding steady to him. ]
I just want to be with you right now.
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So be with me. [ He brushes at Carver's dark hair. ] Do you want to sleep?
[ Not only can he feel it, there's just something about the way Carver behaves that says he must be exhausted. If there had been no one to trust in that place, he doubts Carver had slept much or maybe not at all. And because he wants to, he kisses him again in an effort to encourage him to tell him what else he needs.
If it's within Larus' power to do so, he'll give it to him. ]
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[ It’s gentle, again. Whatever tension might have been there earlier is gone, smoothed away, and Carver opens his eyes a crack just to watch Larus. To see how his hair falls in this light, how his eyes are so goddamn calm now. In the old days, back when they first met, tbis would be the part where they’d either fuck, or Carver would try to kill him again. Swing it vicious because that’s what he knew, what was expected, maybe the only way it could have gone back home.
But maybe that’s not true, or at least not completely. Leah had Dixon for a while, and no matter how that ended, she loved that motherfucker and Carver respects his sister too much to try and claim that wasn’t real. They found each other on the road and they held to it for years. It worked until it didn’t anymore, and that was real. And this is real too, isn’t it?
Carver exhales slowly, running his fingers through Larus’s hair. Rubbing at his head just to do it, just because he can. Because he wants to.
God, he’s so tired. ]
You’re the only one I can sleep next to. I don’t know if I told you that.
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He's tired too. It just sits differently with him. ]
I figured it out a while ago, [ he says, voice low and gentle. ] But I don't mind when you tell me things.
[ In truth, he prefers it. Larus has never liked guessing games. ]
Let me help you get comfortable. You can talk to me until you fall asleep.
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Carver closes his eyes again, nudging his head against Larus’s. Wanting him close, and then having him close. ]
Leah would’ve liked you, [ he says, very softly. ] She’d give me shit but she’d like you.
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Maybe I'll see her one day. [ Because there's always a chance. ] And you can tell her how we met.
[ It's almost an amusing thought, though he can't help thinking he isn't so sure how easily she'd accept the fact he's a vampire. ]
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But he huffs a little at that, too tired for laughter. ]
Makes for a funny story, huh?
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[ To not be unpleasant or standoffish like he could be. Larus wouldn't intentionally impress her either, but it is what it is. He doesn't know if it would ever come to that anyway. ]
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[ But this place just made things complicated, didn't it? Carver keeps his eyes closed, trailing his fingers along Larus's spine. Idle touches, slow and steady. ]
I know you would. She doesn't stand for bullshit, but she puts up with me. So, I think she'd like you.
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