Powers Swap: Without You (Jag)
Apr. 2nd, 2019 01:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
st_rummerCoby and Jag find some comfort in each other once they've gotten a little more used to the power swap.
Funny how you didn't notice how often you did something until you couldn't do it any more, Coby thought as he climbed the stairs to the third floor. When... if they ever got out of this place and back home, it was going to be a job remembering he couldn't just fly because it was easier, and more fun. It had gotten to be a habit, coming and going by the balcony.
Then he got to the top of the stairs and all thoughts of flying and missing his wings flew right out of his head at the sight of Jag curled up by his door. He smiled, muted, but a smile, and an achy warmth kindled in his heart.
"Hey." Coby held out a hand to help Jag up. "C'mon. I know it's death by pink, but it's still better than hanging around outside the door."
Jag put his hand in Coby's, letting that complicated warmth wash a little stronger through him, and stood with Coby's help. Fitting. He didn't even think of letting go of his hand; it felt really good in his. Coby felt really good. "I don't mind the pink," he said quietly.
It was only a moment to open the door and let them in, and shut the rest of the inn away behind the door. As much as he could anyway; Coby wasn't sure how much the meds helped. "It's not all bad," he agreed, about the pink, and really so much more. Giving Jag's hand a squeeze, Coby pulled him into a hug. The little things to remind me of who he was, Jackson had said, and the feel of his arms around him just better.
Jag wrapped his arms around Coby's waist and nestled in close, fitting his face in the crook of Coby's neck and breathing in deep, eyes closed. The smell of Coby, so familiar, mingled with Coby's feelings, his hope, his desire to help, and his love. It crooned to Jag, and he never wanted to leave Coby's arms. "All good," he said, even if it wasn't quite true. It was a reminder, between them, more than a statement.
It's all good wasn't always true, but when it wasn't, it was a hope and a reminder, not a lie. And Jag holding onto it now eased Coby's concern a bit more. He held Jag close, not wanting to let go. "Did I tell you," he started, not sure why this or why now but not wanting to get sucked into a worry and relief spiral, "Sunny thinks I got her magic and stuff?"
"You don't need to say," Jag answered, his own feelings of let's stay like this forever only magnified by Coby's. "But I like the sound of your voice." A frown, and then, closer to the truth, "Love."
"C'mere." Keeping an arm around Jag's shoulders, Coby drew them over to the bed. They could curl up together as long they wanted and be comfortable at it. "You might be biased, but it's not just my voice you like. Love." And that was a feeling they shared, even without Jag being able to feel everything.
Jag toed off his unlaced boots as they reached the bed, and climbed in with Coby, very determined not to lose touch with him for more than a second at a time. He slid a hand under Coby's shirt and settled against him, nosing at his jaw. It was so odd, the way Coby's skin was hotter than his own. That never happened, but his fire was gone. Fortunately, Coby's love made up the difference, warming Jag through and drawing his own love out to bloom inside Jag. Jag tilted his head up and kissed Coby, with that sentiment, with the love they both felt. It wasn't sexual at all, nor was his hand on Coby's side. It was all love.
Coby kissed back, love in his heart, a hand coming up to curl along Jag's jaw, one kiss melting into the next, and breathing each other's breath between. It could have been a minute or an hour, probably somewhere between and on the shorter end, when he murmured, "How are you doing?" Coby'd been so worried, and yeah, Jag was doing better now, than curled up fetal and pulling at his hair, but Coby felt like he could usually get a better read on Jag than he was now.
Jag had only meant for that kiss to be short (and sweet), but then it blended into another, and another, and they were all as sweet as each other, the love only growing with them. It became impossible to even think of putting a stop to the kissing, because of the warm, positive feedback loop inside him, but he could tell Coby was about to, before he did. That made it easier, too, so Jag could be ready for that to come to an end, and he tilted his forehead against Coby's, closing his eyes to focus on everything he felt. "Better," he said, and it was instinct not to say much, but he could feel Coby's desire to know, and how could Jag not give him what he wanted. "The drugs help. It feels... manageable. And you..." He opened his eyes, leaning back enough to look into Coby's eyes. "You make everything so much more than better."
"Good." Coby ran a hand over Jag's hair, small knot of concern already buried under love unraveling in relief. "Had me worried there for awhile, dude."
Jag focused on that easing of feelings, tilting his head forward to brush his lips against Coby's, unsure whose urge it was. It didn't really matter. There was a steadiness in the sensations, and the love, that he couldn't find inside his own head, his own heart.
With the two of them together like this, the urge for lips to find lips, soft and sweet, wasn't an either or. If you asked Coby, both of them wanting it if either of them did just felt right. And it did, just a breath of a kiss, until the feather-light touch faded... along with Coby's body. He was still there, and visible, but more like a ghost, transparent and sinking into the bed.
The steadiness was there, and then it was slipping through Jag's fingers, Coby's ardent warmth fading along with his touch. Jag watched, eyes wide, heart in his throat, anguish pushing a distressed sound out of him as he ineffectively reached for Coby.
Coby had mostly worked out how to go all ghosty when he wanted to. It was the not going ghosty when he didn't mean to that still gave him trouble sometimes. But one thing he had figured out – trying to fight or force his way back to solid mostly just made it worse. An intangible hand passed over, through, Jag's cheek. No idea if Jag could still feel what he was feeling and thinking or not, but wanting to say I'm still here and it's all good. He even managed to keep from drifting down into the bed. See, it could be worse.
Coby stabilized, instead of disappearing through the bed, and Jag's heart slowed a little. If he focused hard, he could feel the faintest brush of Coby's feelings. Coby wasn't panicking; Coby was fine. Coby was here. It was all good. "All right," Jag agreed, quietly, and reached out to lay his hand on the mattress, up against the side of Coby's. Didn't matter that they couldn't feel each other. Coby would come back.
Coming back was more gradual than fading had been, and felt even slower, since Coby wanted to be corporeal and it wasn't happening as quickly as he wanted. When he curled his hand over Jag's, it didn't pass through, but at first felt like a breath or a tendril of light breeze, then a bit more substantial and a little more than that, until it, and the rest of him, was a solid warmth once again. "So much for not falling apart on you," he said, an apology in the making light. "I thought I was getting a handle on that."
"You came back." Jag slid fingertips along Coby's jawline, reveling in the renewed, oh so welcome contact. Coby was real, and tangible, and here. "Sometimes people feel so fiercely, I don't know what's real or what isn't," he admitted quietly.
A tilt of his head, and Coby pressed a kiss to Jag's palm, before meeting his eyes again. "I'm real. This is. Focus on that."
"Thank you," Jag whispered, brushing his thumb reverently over Coby's lips.
Taking his own advice, Coby focused on Jag, on this moment, here and now, the physical sensations of the two of them curled up together on the bed, of all the shades of love he felt. Not letting himself get distracted by thoughts of later, or of other people. "It's all good," he answered, thinking to stop himself before a fond 'firebug' could finish the thought.
"It feels colder, without it," Jag admitted, flicking his eyes up to meet Coby's gaze. "I feel colder. But I - I don't mind if you call me that. Or Charlie. It's... hope. It burns like hope."
Had he actually said the nickname after all, or had Jag just picked it up from his head? Not that it mattered which. "It'll come back, firebug," Coby reassured him choosing to say it out loud, having faith he was right. "Nothing sticks around for very long here." Except for being stuck around here, but that was a problem for another day.
"You do," Jag replied, burrowing in the warmth that knowledge offered. He leaned in and kissed Coby softly, feeling Coby feeling it as much as Jag felt it himself. "You stick around."
It's all good. Coby had a lot of experience focusing on the good and the here and now, and not all the things he couldn't depend on. So they didn't bother him, and through him Jag, now. "So do you. And we'll be here when wings and fire and magic and feelings are back with the people who are supposed to have them. What do you say, fly down to the beach for a bonfire?"
If things went back to what passed for normal around here, but Jag didn't want to think about that any more than Coby. He focused on that promise, the image in Coby's mind. A bonfire, music, love and laughter. "Please," he whispered.
Another soft kiss, then, as Coby turned the idea over in his mind. Just the two of them, with surf and sand and fire. Or maybe a few friends. Curnen, who could probably use the reconnect after running with the coyotes for a few days. Sunny, free of the hunger. Maybe even Emma, and not even for the food, although if she was willing...
Jag swallowed hard at the thought of Emma, Coby's image of her triggering his own responses, and Jag knew the anxiety was his, at least, even if it fed off of other feelings in the air. There was always enough in the air to feed any sort of emotion, and Jag hadn't got a handle on the flares of emotion that led to. His closed eyes brimmed with tears, and he breathed in deep, let it out slowly, focusing on Coby's warmth. "I'll have to avoid her," he said, quietly, snuggling in closer.
Coby didn't have to ask who, although it was still strange, Jag being able to respond to his thoughts instead of simply his words. His arms tightened around Jag, holding him close and warm and loved. "Now? Or after too?" He hoped Jag just meant for now; that part he could understand.
"Now," Jag answered, after a beat. He pressed his nose against the crook of Coby's neck, appreciating what he was doing. "Now." After was nothing but the dream of a bonfire, right now.
"So stay here." As much as he could anyway. If Jag needed to take off for the stables or something because all the people nearby got to pressing too close, Coby would understand, but here, with Coby, felt like the best way to avoid Emma as long as his mind was so open to everything.
"For a little while," Jag confirmed. Not for long. He couldn't imagine being here for very long without Coby to focus on, and he couldn't ask him to stick around.
"For a little while," Coby agreed, meaning For as long as you want. "It's all good."
Funny how you didn't notice how often you did something until you couldn't do it any more, Coby thought as he climbed the stairs to the third floor. When... if they ever got out of this place and back home, it was going to be a job remembering he couldn't just fly because it was easier, and more fun. It had gotten to be a habit, coming and going by the balcony.
Then he got to the top of the stairs and all thoughts of flying and missing his wings flew right out of his head at the sight of Jag curled up by his door. He smiled, muted, but a smile, and an achy warmth kindled in his heart.
"Hey." Coby held out a hand to help Jag up. "C'mon. I know it's death by pink, but it's still better than hanging around outside the door."
Jag put his hand in Coby's, letting that complicated warmth wash a little stronger through him, and stood with Coby's help. Fitting. He didn't even think of letting go of his hand; it felt really good in his. Coby felt really good. "I don't mind the pink," he said quietly.
It was only a moment to open the door and let them in, and shut the rest of the inn away behind the door. As much as he could anyway; Coby wasn't sure how much the meds helped. "It's not all bad," he agreed, about the pink, and really so much more. Giving Jag's hand a squeeze, Coby pulled him into a hug. The little things to remind me of who he was, Jackson had said, and the feel of his arms around him just better.
Jag wrapped his arms around Coby's waist and nestled in close, fitting his face in the crook of Coby's neck and breathing in deep, eyes closed. The smell of Coby, so familiar, mingled with Coby's feelings, his hope, his desire to help, and his love. It crooned to Jag, and he never wanted to leave Coby's arms. "All good," he said, even if it wasn't quite true. It was a reminder, between them, more than a statement.
It's all good wasn't always true, but when it wasn't, it was a hope and a reminder, not a lie. And Jag holding onto it now eased Coby's concern a bit more. He held Jag close, not wanting to let go. "Did I tell you," he started, not sure why this or why now but not wanting to get sucked into a worry and relief spiral, "Sunny thinks I got her magic and stuff?"
"You don't need to say," Jag answered, his own feelings of let's stay like this forever only magnified by Coby's. "But I like the sound of your voice." A frown, and then, closer to the truth, "Love."
"C'mere." Keeping an arm around Jag's shoulders, Coby drew them over to the bed. They could curl up together as long they wanted and be comfortable at it. "You might be biased, but it's not just my voice you like. Love." And that was a feeling they shared, even without Jag being able to feel everything.
Jag toed off his unlaced boots as they reached the bed, and climbed in with Coby, very determined not to lose touch with him for more than a second at a time. He slid a hand under Coby's shirt and settled against him, nosing at his jaw. It was so odd, the way Coby's skin was hotter than his own. That never happened, but his fire was gone. Fortunately, Coby's love made up the difference, warming Jag through and drawing his own love out to bloom inside Jag. Jag tilted his head up and kissed Coby, with that sentiment, with the love they both felt. It wasn't sexual at all, nor was his hand on Coby's side. It was all love.
Coby kissed back, love in his heart, a hand coming up to curl along Jag's jaw, one kiss melting into the next, and breathing each other's breath between. It could have been a minute or an hour, probably somewhere between and on the shorter end, when he murmured, "How are you doing?" Coby'd been so worried, and yeah, Jag was doing better now, than curled up fetal and pulling at his hair, but Coby felt like he could usually get a better read on Jag than he was now.
Jag had only meant for that kiss to be short (and sweet), but then it blended into another, and another, and they were all as sweet as each other, the love only growing with them. It became impossible to even think of putting a stop to the kissing, because of the warm, positive feedback loop inside him, but he could tell Coby was about to, before he did. That made it easier, too, so Jag could be ready for that to come to an end, and he tilted his forehead against Coby's, closing his eyes to focus on everything he felt. "Better," he said, and it was instinct not to say much, but he could feel Coby's desire to know, and how could Jag not give him what he wanted. "The drugs help. It feels... manageable. And you..." He opened his eyes, leaning back enough to look into Coby's eyes. "You make everything so much more than better."
"Good." Coby ran a hand over Jag's hair, small knot of concern already buried under love unraveling in relief. "Had me worried there for awhile, dude."
Jag focused on that easing of feelings, tilting his head forward to brush his lips against Coby's, unsure whose urge it was. It didn't really matter. There was a steadiness in the sensations, and the love, that he couldn't find inside his own head, his own heart.
With the two of them together like this, the urge for lips to find lips, soft and sweet, wasn't an either or. If you asked Coby, both of them wanting it if either of them did just felt right. And it did, just a breath of a kiss, until the feather-light touch faded... along with Coby's body. He was still there, and visible, but more like a ghost, transparent and sinking into the bed.
The steadiness was there, and then it was slipping through Jag's fingers, Coby's ardent warmth fading along with his touch. Jag watched, eyes wide, heart in his throat, anguish pushing a distressed sound out of him as he ineffectively reached for Coby.
Coby had mostly worked out how to go all ghosty when he wanted to. It was the not going ghosty when he didn't mean to that still gave him trouble sometimes. But one thing he had figured out – trying to fight or force his way back to solid mostly just made it worse. An intangible hand passed over, through, Jag's cheek. No idea if Jag could still feel what he was feeling and thinking or not, but wanting to say I'm still here and it's all good. He even managed to keep from drifting down into the bed. See, it could be worse.
Coby stabilized, instead of disappearing through the bed, and Jag's heart slowed a little. If he focused hard, he could feel the faintest brush of Coby's feelings. Coby wasn't panicking; Coby was fine. Coby was here. It was all good. "All right," Jag agreed, quietly, and reached out to lay his hand on the mattress, up against the side of Coby's. Didn't matter that they couldn't feel each other. Coby would come back.
Coming back was more gradual than fading had been, and felt even slower, since Coby wanted to be corporeal and it wasn't happening as quickly as he wanted. When he curled his hand over Jag's, it didn't pass through, but at first felt like a breath or a tendril of light breeze, then a bit more substantial and a little more than that, until it, and the rest of him, was a solid warmth once again. "So much for not falling apart on you," he said, an apology in the making light. "I thought I was getting a handle on that."
"You came back." Jag slid fingertips along Coby's jawline, reveling in the renewed, oh so welcome contact. Coby was real, and tangible, and here. "Sometimes people feel so fiercely, I don't know what's real or what isn't," he admitted quietly.
A tilt of his head, and Coby pressed a kiss to Jag's palm, before meeting his eyes again. "I'm real. This is. Focus on that."
"Thank you," Jag whispered, brushing his thumb reverently over Coby's lips.
Taking his own advice, Coby focused on Jag, on this moment, here and now, the physical sensations of the two of them curled up together on the bed, of all the shades of love he felt. Not letting himself get distracted by thoughts of later, or of other people. "It's all good," he answered, thinking to stop himself before a fond 'firebug' could finish the thought.
"It feels colder, without it," Jag admitted, flicking his eyes up to meet Coby's gaze. "I feel colder. But I - I don't mind if you call me that. Or Charlie. It's... hope. It burns like hope."
Had he actually said the nickname after all, or had Jag just picked it up from his head? Not that it mattered which. "It'll come back, firebug," Coby reassured him choosing to say it out loud, having faith he was right. "Nothing sticks around for very long here." Except for being stuck around here, but that was a problem for another day.
"You do," Jag replied, burrowing in the warmth that knowledge offered. He leaned in and kissed Coby softly, feeling Coby feeling it as much as Jag felt it himself. "You stick around."
It's all good. Coby had a lot of experience focusing on the good and the here and now, and not all the things he couldn't depend on. So they didn't bother him, and through him Jag, now. "So do you. And we'll be here when wings and fire and magic and feelings are back with the people who are supposed to have them. What do you say, fly down to the beach for a bonfire?"
If things went back to what passed for normal around here, but Jag didn't want to think about that any more than Coby. He focused on that promise, the image in Coby's mind. A bonfire, music, love and laughter. "Please," he whispered.
Another soft kiss, then, as Coby turned the idea over in his mind. Just the two of them, with surf and sand and fire. Or maybe a few friends. Curnen, who could probably use the reconnect after running with the coyotes for a few days. Sunny, free of the hunger. Maybe even Emma, and not even for the food, although if she was willing...
Jag swallowed hard at the thought of Emma, Coby's image of her triggering his own responses, and Jag knew the anxiety was his, at least, even if it fed off of other feelings in the air. There was always enough in the air to feed any sort of emotion, and Jag hadn't got a handle on the flares of emotion that led to. His closed eyes brimmed with tears, and he breathed in deep, let it out slowly, focusing on Coby's warmth. "I'll have to avoid her," he said, quietly, snuggling in closer.
Coby didn't have to ask who, although it was still strange, Jag being able to respond to his thoughts instead of simply his words. His arms tightened around Jag, holding him close and warm and loved. "Now? Or after too?" He hoped Jag just meant for now; that part he could understand.
"Now," Jag answered, after a beat. He pressed his nose against the crook of Coby's neck, appreciating what he was doing. "Now." After was nothing but the dream of a bonfire, right now.
"So stay here." As much as he could anyway. If Jag needed to take off for the stables or something because all the people nearby got to pressing too close, Coby would understand, but here, with Coby, felt like the best way to avoid Emma as long as his mind was so open to everything.
"For a little while," Jag confirmed. Not for long. He couldn't imagine being here for very long without Coby to focus on, and he couldn't ask him to stick around.
"For a little while," Coby agreed, meaning For as long as you want. "It's all good."
