InsaneJournal

Leon had been putting it off. There was no other way around it, really. Valentine’s Day, when James had offered to help Leon work through whatever mental block was preventing him from talking to animals, was three months ago.

He hadn’t meant to put it off, not exactly. He’d meant to talk to James about it, he really had. It just hadn’t happened. And then, he’d been tossed into the Murder Mansion and Leon hadn’t wanted James poking around in his head after that, not while Leon had been so filled with frustration and anger and guilt. He’d been snapping at everything and everyone enough, without adding the added stress of thinking about someone rifling around in his head.

Not that he thought James would do anything like rifling around, or poking in places Leon didn’t want him to. He knew he wouldn’t do anything Leon wasn’t okay with. He did. Really.

But the whole thing, well, it scared him.

He didn’t want to admit it, but it did. It terrified him. Any time he thought about bringing it up to James, he could feel his heart rate increasing, could feel how his throat closed up, how much harder it was to breath. And then he’d be short tempered and moody and prone to snarl at anyone who so much as looked at him funny.

So he just didn’t think about it. Not much, at least. Not when he could help it.

He was thinking of it more now, after his capital-D Dream. There’d been a moment there, just a moment, where he worried he wouldn’t be able to hear Chris. That he’d closed himself off so much that he wouldn’t be able to hear Chris’ little voice in his head. He had though, but he wondered if it was just because the whole thing had, potentially, taken place in his mind.

What if Chris came here? Presumably, he’d be able to speak – Chris would be eighteen now, and had regained his ability to speak when he’d finally decided to leave D’s shop and had lost his ability to communicate with the animals there. But people showed up from all sorts of different times, and maybe, if Chris came here, it would be how Leon remembered him from the dream. That year where the only way Chris was able to communicate with him was that little voice in his head.

And besides, if James had been in his dream, it meant he’d already been in Leon’s head, and nothing terrible had happened. He didn’t know how James ended up in his dream, but he hadn’t seen anyone else talking about shared dream experiences – just weird dream experiences – so he assumed it must’ve been something to do with James’ magic.

Tonight seemed like a good time to try letting him in again. They didn’t often spend the evening at Leon’s apartment, but it was nice for something like this, when he didn’t have to worry about any roommates unexpectedly barging in or anything else like that. He was comfortable here, if not entirely too sober for something like this.

He got off the couch where he’d been leaning against James and made his way to the kitchen to mix himself a drink. “You want anything while I’m up?” he called over his shoulder.

James didn’t poke his way into the private workings of Leon’s head - he promised that he wouldn’t, and he kept that promise (not to mention that he didn’t do it anyway, to anyone, not just on a whim). But that didn’t mean he was unable to simply feel when something was up - more like he just knew Leon well, could read his body language and his moods and expressions; it was a piece of the puzzle that came along with loving someone, he supposed. And he wasn’t complaining about it at all.

He’d arrived at Leon’s apartment planning to stay the night, and he already had some necessities here - a change of clothes or two, a toothbrush, things like that. Things Leon had at his house as well and eventually the time would come when they would consolidate, merge households and find something suited for them, but until then he was content to play it by ear and see what happened. The course of true love never did run smooth, as they said, but so far it had been an incredible learning experience in a few ways - even those not-so-smooth parts happened to be.

“Just whatever you’re having,” he replied - and it didn’t matter too much, James wasn’t picky. As long as it wasn’t straight motor oil he’d drink it - and he had a feeling that they’d both need to be sober for whatever was coming, so he wouldn’t have too much. He got up from the couch, heading to follow Leon toward the kitchen and lean against the doorway. His eyes were bright, prussian blue, as he observed the drink prep and proceedings with a fond expression. “You’ve got something on your mind, then?”

Merely a guess.

Leon poured a couple fingers of rum into a highball glass and knocked it back, then poured each of them a rum and coke, a little on the strong side. He handed James his glass, leaned against the counter, and took a sip of his own.

He could still back out. Say that he’d only come up for a drink, and they should decide on a movie to watch. He frowned.

“You remember what we talked about on Valentine’s Day?” he asked after a moment.

“Of course.” James took the glass, which - well, he could definitely smell that it was more rum than coke but it would do. Pirates and party animals alike enjoyed this combo - and James did too, there was nothing wrong with it. The burn that occurred in the aftermath was also somewhat pleasant, as was the rich molasses flavor to it all. He sipped carefully, not wanting to just pour it down his throat. “I said I’d help you - if you wanted to talk to animals again. Which you’re still able to do, by the way...”

He smirked lightly, clinking his glass against Leon’s in a toast to his ornery self before taking another sip. “You’re just stubborn, darling. But has the time come?” That was quite exciting. James would take advantage of this opportunity before it slipped through his fingers.

Leon took another sip in response to the cheers. "I don't know if it counts if I can only do it when I'm drunk," Leon muttered. "But yeah. I mean, unless you need to prepare some shit first." Like what, Leon didn't actually know; he'd never seen James use magic needing ingredients or prep before, but maybe this time was different. But there was a hint of hope in his voice that maybe this time, James was going to need all sorts of elaborate planning. Preferably planning that took days. Weeks, even. "It can wait if there's stuff you need to do."

Sorry, Leon, there was no extensive prep necessary - James had always been a good little student, throughout his life, and he’d learned his spells down pat. Besides, the ones taught to him as he was raised within the shadowy ranks of Vorerra weren’t meant to require standing over a bubbling cauldron and tossing ingredients into a pot. Asetenarra was a different story - they had their massive book, and James had been working steadily through the blood magic to learn it all too; he had his small blade with him, always, to allow for a prick of skin here and there - the main ingredient was always his blood, unless he was working with an animal of his own.

They always asked for permission first. It was the way.

“Alas, there’s nothing,” he replied, carrying his glass and heading back into the living room. “Come sit. Let me take a look - and you’re not going to need to be drunk for it, not anymore. I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

“All the magic in the movies requires day of prep,” Leon grumbled, but he followed James back to the living room and sat down on the couch, arms crossed, right leg bouncing in agitation. He set his jaw. No more thinking, now was the time for doing. “Alright,” he said. “Let’s get this over with.”

James faced Leon, hands coming up to cradle his face - it wasn’t a necessary gesture for this, it was just for comfort; his thumbs swiped Leon’s cheeks and James dropped his hands a moment later. “Alright, I’ll just open a mind link at first - a small one. We’ll amp it up if we need to, but I don’t want to overwhelm you,” he said carefully.

He didn’t need to speak the words out loud, any words, but he did regardless for the sake of transparency. There was a gentle ‘recludere’ uttered and it was as simple as breathing; James did, in fact, breathe out when Leon did - he breathed in too, syncing with him, and he slipped into his boyfriend’s head to stand beside the river of thought. Words were rushing past him, surface thoughts that James didn’t make heads or tails of - it was always quick, a mountain river torrent, and he only needed to solidify his presence. To latch on, similar to how a stowaway would.

You can hear me, he said - just to confirm.

Leon had never been particularly good at meditation, or stopping the whirlwind in his head, but he tried now, focusing on his breath as best he could: breathe in, breathe out, watch as James did the same. He had very nearly managed to relax his muscles, unwind them so they were no longer coiled to bolt, when he heard James’ voice in his head.

He tried not to flinch, tried not to pull away from James and slam a shield like a steel grate over his mind. He didn’t entirely succeed. But then, it wasn’t like he was actually able to shield his own mind in the first place. That was half the reason he was here in the first place.

He forced himself into stillness, unclenching his fist. It was James voice in his head, not the one he still sometimes heard calling him an insect when he let his guard down. He swallowed, wrapping his fingers in James’ shirt.

“Yeah, I can hear you,” he said.

James felt it when the gates closed - gates, windows, shutters, and the phrase was probably ‘tight as a tick,’ because when a tick latched onto skin and dug in it was in there good. Same way Mathis had gotten in, apparently, and James hated that - he’d put up shields in Leon’s mind to keep his own family out because he knew they’d try to breach the gates too, but they weren’t going to be gentle the way James was now. They never were.

Luckily they’d also left Leon alone - James too, and he was glad for it. Ever since he’d joined Asetenarra there was a shaky ceasefire, and Vorerra apparently decided they had other things to be concerned with than Avelina’s traitor nephew who refused to compromise his principles in order to distance himself from a coven he had no choice about being born into.

Relax, James breathed the word out, mentally. It was hard to find his footing when Leon was clenched up so badly but he managed - remitto was cast, to try to help that along too. It was the equivalent of jamming a doorstop into Leon’s head, so he wouldn’t be able to shut James out entirely - and while James was trying to be gentle, he also realized he was going to have to use at least a little bit of force too.

“It’s not going to hurt,” he said out loud. “Only if you force it - that’s why you can’t do what you were able to do before. You have to let it happen.”

He pushed, in demonstration - if there was resistance, it would just make things worse. Kind of like when you were caught in a rip tide; sometimes you just had to float on your back, you couldn’t keep swimming against it or you’d wear yourself out.

Leon… didn’t really know how to relax, not even during the best of times. By nature, he tended to be intense and high strung, even when he wasn’t trying to make himself do something that stressed him out. Still, he promised he’d try, and he’d be lying if he tried to pretend that he didn’t miss everything he used to be able to do before. The animals had been annoying, but less annoying than humans tended to be, and Leon would never wish away his ability to talk with other people. So he’d try.

He took a breath and squeezed his eyes closed, except, he realized, that the problem with trying to force yourself to relax was that it usually resulted in the opposite. He felt it now, and sighed, annoyed. “I’m sorry,” he snapped, opening his eyes. “I can’t do it.”

James’s lashes fluttered open too - they had been closed, and he narrowed those summer blue eyes into a squint. “Yes, you can,” he insisted, hands drifting to rest on Leon’s thighs - and James squeezed there. “Now hold still and trust me. That’s all you have to do.”

He didn’t even ask this time - he opened the mind link again, amping up his power, his magic, everything he’d learned. It was a vibration that tickled the bones as he forced his way in - into Leon’s head, his marrow, his veins, catapulting through neurons and synching up breathing and heartbeats.

The telepathic equivalent of taking a wrecking ball to an old, dilapidated building - well, Leon had to let it crumble. It was time for it to come down, and build something new. Something better. You can hear me, he said again. You can feel me. You can feel how much I love you. If gentleness didn’t work, then maybe this would - it was madness and it was beautiful, the intensity of it as bright as vermillion struck by a storm.

Leon gasped, breath catching in his throat. He was unable to think, suddenly and completely wrapped up in the essence of James. It was terrifying, not just because that this was the first time anyone had been in his head since Mathis, but because he could feel every one of James’ overwhelming feelings for him. It was too much; it was just enough. He wouldn’t have been possible for anyone to love him so intensely.

“I can feel you,” Leon confirmed, and not knowing what else to do, he placed his hands on either side of James’ face and pulled him in for a kiss, trying to pack as much of his own feelings for James into it.

James kissed him back, throwing his arms around Leon’s neck and leaning into the embrace - it was a lot. Feelings, sensations, the equivalent of a golden ring of light or the kind of heat that reached down to your bones on a sun-baked day - he didn’t think it needed to be anything half-assed, especially when he was trying to make a point and also especially when he didn’t go into this half-assed anyway; James loved very deeply.

It was because of that love he was doing this - he wanted Leon to find what he’d lost, those broken pieces; one of the hardest things in life was seeing yourself the way someone else saw you - the way the person who loved you, saw you. At the very least, however, James could give him that - one of the benefits of telepathy, of a link between them that allowed for him to do so.

“It’s just me,” he said, magic radiating and pulsing out from every pore - he didn’t glow, or anything ethereal like that (wasn’t how it worked, not with Vorerra), but there was a shift and change in the atmosphere. And wisps of magic that traveled through limbs, through their connection. “And I can see that you can do it. I know you can.”

Leon had never thought too hard about how, exactly, he’d been able to See animals, to talk to them; he hadn’t even thought about it after he’d lost the ability either, figuring it had come and gone in the same mysterious way that D always seemed to work. It wasn’t until James had been so sure that he’d been able to that Leon realized that maybe it had worked through a sort of telepathy.

A minor telepathy, where nothing really penetrated quite like this; there was no feeling one another’s emotions, not sinking completely into the other person. It had been like being able to hear someone’s surface thoughts. He never imagined that it could be like this, pleasant and warm. Could never imagine it filling him, like Coke in a bottle, fizzy and warm and sweet. It nothing that filled him so completely like this. No, the only time he’d experienced telepathy like this…

He baulked, mind simultaneously trying to shove James out and cling to him, guilt and shame and fear clouding his mind like a miasma, the warm fizziness that had filled him suddenly cold and sharp and painful.

He hadn’t told James about the hours he’d spent with Mathias, had never really talked about it. James had seen the end result, and the end result had put James in the hospital; even if Leon had wanted to talk about it, which he hadn’t, what sort of right did he have when he’d been the one to nearly kill James. He didn’t deserve for James to look at him that way; he didn’t deserve it before he’d shot him, certainly didn’t deserve it now, he was just an insect.

He did his best to gather it, shove it in some cordoned off compartment of his mind, the same compartment where Leon kept everything else he didn’t want to think about. A closet overflowing with skeletons, door bulging, like the closet of a cartoon child who’d just been asked to clean their bedroom.

Leon pulled himself away from James, but didn’t try to disentangle his fingers from James’ shirt. “I’m sorry,” Leon said, voice tight, glaring, unblinking, at the section of couch cushion between them. “I just…” He drew a wavering breath, let himself feel James’ warmth again. “I’ll try again.”

“Don’t apologize,” James replied, hands sliding back down to grip Leon’s thighs - he may have pulled away, somewhat, but they were still connected. Fingers, hands, thoughts - a bond between them too, because Leon really was the first person James was certain he loved in a romantic way. “There’s no need for that anymore.”

He’d seen those toxic thoughts - the darkness of them, the despair. And James didn’t agree with how self-deprecating they were - yet he also knew he couldn’t force Leon to toss out those emotions and the guilt that wasn’t serving him; Leon had to do it himself.

“Life is constantly about acceptance,” James said. “Everything that happens - everything we do. We have to accept it. So new opportunities can grow, so we’re not left behind.” That was why Leon couldn’t just shove it all away into a mental corner and pretend it wasn’t there - he had to accept that it remained, but he got to control how it affected him moving forward. Not the opposite.

James squeezed Leon’s knee. Try again, his telepathic voice echoed, calm and soothing.

Leon closed his eyes, brow furrowed in concentration as he reached out for James again. It wasn’t hard: James was still there. Leon tried to strengthen the bond, to pull James further inside him. He wanted to feel James inside him again, to show James how much he loved him, but he was overly conscious of everything, too aware that a wrong move would trigger something painful.

His frown deepened. How the hell am I supposed to just accept this shit, James? Leon snapped, not realizing that his lips didn’t move with the question.

So grumpy. But James actually grinned, the expression lighting up his face. I don’t know, you tell me he responded through that link - the link that was open, but yet also not just one-way. Leon was using it too, and James could have kissed him.

Well, he did kiss him - placed his hands on either side of Leon’s face and planted a big one on him, because he was just so pleased in that starshine and confetti type of way. Now he felt as if they had made big progress.

There, see - you’ve got it now. Maybe it would take more work to develop and really exercise the muscle in order to get it functioning without feeling as if Leon was pulling teeth (or particularly constipated) but it was something. A start.

If there was one surefire way to turn Leon’s scowl into a goofy, lopsided grin, that was the way to do it, his mind rolling open like a carpet.

“If I keep doing it, will I get more kisses?” he asked.

“Yes,” James responded right away, then added, as many as you can stand over their link - which felt strong, rope that was tightly wound and not frayed at the edges; he thought this was a positive thing, it really was. “And not to sound ridiculously sentimental or anything, but - “

He patted Leon’s cheek, leaning in and dropping yet another kiss on his mouth - with James shaping his lips around his boyfriend’s, and he believed he fit best there and everything just locked into place so nicely. “I’m proud of you.” James let that feeling settle over their connection too, something warm as a coal stove; it was a handy way to communicate.

Leon could get used to this, the kissing, the closeness, the connection. He regretted, a little, that he and James had been together for almost seven months now, and this was the first time they’d shared this kind of connection. He wondered if James resented the loss.

And then he wasn’t wondering about that anymore. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had told him they were proud of him – it was probably sometime in elementary school, maybe high school, maybe that time in sixth grade where Leon had gotten into a fight at school, and when his father had asked why, Leon had said it was because they’d been bullying some other kid – and maybe it was dumb, but in that moment, he was overcome.

He rubbed the underside of his nose with his knuckle, pleased, bashful. “It’s not a big deal. Probably put it off too long.”

“Probably,” James agreed with a laugh, but it was obviously teasing and fond. “But no one can push you to do much, you usually have to come around on your own.” It required an endless well of patience, which was luckily something James had - they seemed to work well together and he had to admit that he felt an initial spark from the very beginning, and it just seemed to snowball from there.

Now here they were. Look how far they’d come - he really was proud, and he felt as if he had every reason to be.

“I suppose next time you come over, Cheeto will want to chat.” That thought was amusing - Asetenarra used blood magic to telepathically communicate with animals but James had never tried on his own pet before. It would be a good experiment, if nothing else.

“Ugh, and Mango,” Leon grumbled, though James probably didn’t even need the psychic connection to know that Leon was more bark than bite, that his annoyance . “That damn bird never shuts up as it is.” He shot James a grin. “Though, maybe if I can convince Cheeto to give up all your secrets, this won’t be so bad.”

His fingers went to give Leon’s cheeks a playful squish, James leaning in to plant another kiss on him. “You can try - I really want to see those efforts,” he said, and he found it sort of thrilling because, well, Leon had a lot of his secrets anyway. Maybe not all of them though - had to keep some things a mystery, didn’t you?

The thought of Mango chatting Leon’s ear off was also hilarious. He wasn’t sure why, but he was sure that bird had a lot to say - lots of chirping and diving into Yelena’s secrets instead. Oh, now that could be fun.

“We ought to celebrate your rousing success,” he decided. “Which I’m sure involves you getting naked at some point, and I’m really not complaining about that.”

“Yeah? I can do celebrating. I like celebrating,” Leon said, shifting a little so that he could better grab the front of James’ shirt and pull him over him. “I hope by ‘at some point’ you mean ‘right fucking now.’”

Eager, wasn’t he? Not that James could blame him. He let out an oomph sound, willingly letting himself be pulled so he was draped over Leon like a living, breathing blanket. And managed to balance so he didn’t fall off the sofa - one of the best parts of finding a comfortable spot, when you were faced with the thrill of being a contortionist.

“Right fucking now works,” he agreed, wrists planted on either side of Leon, and James let his knees bracket his boyfriend’s hips too. “And I’ll open up that connection again too. You know - for fun.”

Leon would get to see firsthand how useful it was to be in your partner’s head during moments of intimacy - so you could give them what they wanted and needed and there would be no question; feeling what they felt was a completely mindblowing experience, honestly, and James was happy to give that to him. Relationship milestones - and what a delightful one it happened to be.