Liam (hyde) wrote in warrantlogs, @ 2015-11-02 05:45:00 |
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Entry tags: | jaime tyburn, liam hyde |
Who: Jaime & Liam
What: A little chat.
Where: Liam's' room.
When: After Jaime's release.
Rating: PG-13, some swearing and mentions of violence.
Fresh from the RAC's med bay, Jaime found himself back in the Whiskey Sour in record time. He tapped the door frame with a knuckle, pausing out of manners outside Liam and Jim's quarters. Arms casually crossed and hair a mess as usual, Jaime looked his usual self, right down to the frustrated expression — furrowed brow, chapped bottom lip from absentminded chewing (where was his pen?), the occasional grimace — that was customarily reserved for his fellow Ioan and crewmate, Liam Hyde. Who had been taking a long nap and was unhappily brought back to being awake by the infernal (his mental description) knocking. Apparently, Jaime was not the only one prone to exaggeration because as Liam dragged himself to open the door(groans and quiet complains about being disturbed) the stare was blank save for the tint of annoyance beneath, ready to surface. "What?" Hair matching Jaime's, in only a pair of boxers and one sock; perfect picture of a cold blooded killer. Refusing to greet Jaime on the principle of playing jealous ex, lavished attention from Kirby always serving as further motive for animosity between them. The mentally rehearsed speech in Jaime's head was momentarily derailed as the door opened to a half-naked man. Jaime's gaze unintentionally slid down the other man's body (Liam noticed, felt a predatory taunt rise). "One sock." Jaime thought out loud, "Where's the other one?" "Somewhere. I only like sleeping with one, otherwise my feet get too hot." The same way he liked to have one leg beneath the covers and one out; that action regulated the temperature to a comfortable setting. "Wait." Jaime inhaled. "I didn't come to talk about your sleeping arrangements. Conditions. Whatever." Liam's eyebrows rose, taunt lingering on the tip of his tongue; resisted the urge. Jaime ran a hand through his hair and shifted his weight around. For the first time since the discovery of the stowaway, Jaime met Liam's gaze with his own. Avoiding his gaze had been all too easy after waking up from his concussion to the sight of a dying man in the cargo bay and Liam covered in blood. And Alex slipping as he came running. "We need to talk about what happened —" the throbbing close to his eye secondary to what he was feeling. It would bruise purple the next day but Jamie didn't care. Not now. Maybe not even later "— the other day. The stowaway. He was crazy but he didn't deserve nearly getting stabbed to death," Jamie started, gesturing once in the direction of the cargo bay. Liam's eyes following that direction before turning their focus back, shifting his position to lean against the open door. At least now he knew why Jaime came. "You're welcome." Liam said without sentiment, smirk waiting to surface, "And I didn't stab him. There was nothing to stab him with." Meaning that if there had been, Liam would've done that instead of punching his face in. Practicality and Killjoy training dictated that it was always better to neutralize a target first, questions came later. and Liam was laughing, laughing, echoing in the bathroom walls of this place because it had been an accident and now there was trouble but he couldn't stop to think. Why did this idiot navigator do such a thing? The word idiot laced with fondness. He'd needed to laugh. Jaime's lip twisted, a mad grin lighting his face despite himself. The words felt like a slap to the face. Jaime's gaze hardened a fraction, and he took a half step back. Nothing was ever easy with the crazy bastard. "My mistake, but he could have died. You didn't have to hit so hard." It wasn't the first time Jaime had said the words to Liam, and his mind flashed back to a night a year ago in the back of a bar. — you didn't have to hit so hard." Jamie touched a hand to his cheek, just below his left eye, and spat out a mouthful of blood. Liam's reflection on the mirror as he shifted to press a wet paper towel against Jaime's cheek. "I pulled back, it —" The eyeroll was palpable from a mile, an exasperated groan, "—Wasn't that hard, okay?" After all, no one had died. "And he gave you a fucking concussion. So why are you defending him?" You'd think it had been Liam who attacked Jaime; a thought that bit at the edges — chewing him out, bitter. Jaime dragged a hand over his face and suppressed his own groan, his body language getting more expressive as his temper rose. "Because he wasn't a bounty, because--" Exhale. "I've seen you fight. I know you could have stopped him without whatever it was you did." Lord save him from this sort of talks, he had heard it before and he really had no intention to change. Only the fact that, one— Jaime had just been released, and two— crew were not targets for his anger, maintained Liam where he was: arms folded, sneering as he spat out: "You're welcome" and moved back to shut the door. Jaime wanted to let the door close. It would have been the easy way out. Instead he held out a hand to block the movement of the door, "— Wait." "What are we doing?" Jaime asked as he pulled back, breathless but grinning still. The taste of his lips mingled with alcohol and blood, Liam's eyes focused and remarkably more sober than one would have assumed. "We should stop." But Jaime didn't want to. "Alright." Expression pleasantly vacant of any anger, "You're not my type." That was a lie, but Liam was not in a mood to lose face after breaking up with Kirby so recently. Rejection was a large pill to swallow; you never get used to the way it sticks in your throat, scraping the skin inside all the way down. "Fuck." Jaime snaked an arm possessively over Liam's back and pulled him close for another kiss. This time Liam had no qualms about pressing Jaime against the smooth plain sink, slippery and wet, and returning the gesture; devoid of gentleness, he pressed his open mouth against Jaime's as if this were a fight. "Thank you." Jaime said, in almost a whisper; Liam caught the word and the smile twisted, a painted reflection of the myriad of thoughts beneath the surface. He wanted to hate Jaime completely and utterly, to smash his face in whenever he spoke to Kirby. Same way he wanted to yank her hair none too gently when she spoke to Jaime. It was petty. It was childish. "Yeah, now you say it." This time, Jaime succumbed and walked away. "Oi." Liam lifted one hand, gave a little awkward wave with his fingers. "Glad you're better." Before he retreated back to his room with a quick slam of the door, betraying his embarrassment at those last three words. Jaime paused but didn't look back. At least not until the door slammed and there was no one to see the expression on his face. |