nude novak (resistente) wrote in warrantlogs, @ 2016-01-28 18:54:00 |
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Entry tags: | !backlog, jude novak, mathias jones |
a wind in the shadow, a whale song in the deep.
WHO: Jude & Mathias
WHAT: Nightmares + dumb boys in love = cuddling the nightmares away.
WHEN: Between Christmas and New Years, late night
WHERE: The Sling, Jude & Ely's room
RATING: Implications of trauma, but otherwise tame.
Gunshots. Screaming. Blood. His vision shakes and he looks down, knuckles white from how hard he's gripping his pistol. He looks up and his captain has a finger to his lip, "Shhhh." He realizes that he's the one who's screaming, wakes with a start. It takes Mathias a minute to calm down, his heart still beating hard against his chest. In the silence of the room, his breath sounds too loud. He checks to see that Whistle is still asleep before he climbs out of bed, walks down the hall and into Jude's room. This isn't exactly uncommon, but he hasn't needed this in a while. Jude looks peaceful in his sleep, and Mathias feels bad even being here. Even so, there's no denying how much better he already feels just seeing his friend. Quietly, he sinks to his knees next to the bed and places a shaking hand on Jude's shoulder. If he doesn't wake up, he tells himself, he'll leave. It's fortunate for both that the navigator is a lighter sleeper than is healthy, forever ready to spring awake when need be: to swoop in and protect and serve. He stirs with ease, lashes fluttering, and it takes no time at all for him to recognize the near-silhouette at his bedside, not even as his vision is still adjusting. One hand is soon reaching out, fingertips grazing Mathias' temple in that silent What's wrong? that his eyes are usually the first to say. "Nightmare," Mathias says, simple succinct. They've talked about this enough that he's sure Jude knows exactly what kind of nightmare he's talking about. Cleared for active duty, his files say, but not clear from the memories of his time on the Cubra Libre. Almost instinctively, he leans into the touch and sighs, relieved. "Can I stay with you?" The words, when they come out, are scratchy, but the intention to be alert is genuine, Jude's fingertips falling beneath one eye to graze the curve of a cheekbone. "Yeah, 'course," he offers, the You don't have to ask anymore halting on the tip of his tongue as he shifts, freeing up the space he'd just been occupying. And when the blanket comes up, it's an invitation to follow, just like it always is. They're much too big to fit in the same small cot but Mathias climbs in anyway, tucking himself against Jude's side so that they'll both fit. He tries not to shift too much, doesn't want to disturb Jude's sleep too much at this hour. The bed really is only big enough for one of them though, so he can't help but twist and wiggle until he's almost completely pressed against Jude's side. "Thank you," he whispers, voice soft and fragile. He hates these nightmares, but he figures it's fair penance for what he'd done. Tall frames and long legs permit only close quarters, allowing the navigator to shift so they're facing better, comfortable in the movement of instinctively carding a hand through the younger man's hair, fingertips grazing the shell of an ear. That fragility is like warning bells, and in the near dark, Jude, groggy still, can't stop the frown. "Still bad?" The words are hoarse, but alert. "Better now," Mathias says, not entirely untrue, "It's just been years, I thought that it'd be better once I came back." After all isn't that why they released him? Cleared him for the job? He's a medic, he should know better than to expect an overnight cure. The motions of running fingers through Mathias' hair are familiar, reserved not only for these nights, but for other nights when the comfort is needed, the proximity to one another vital. Words are mulled over, not so quick the tumble out when the clarity still hadn't returned from waking. "If coming here helps," Jude tries, hoping the words make sense as they come, "you know my door is always open for you. Euphie's too, if I'm there, or even if I'm not." Mathias wants to say that he does, instead he tilts his head up and looks at Jude. "You never told me, why did you ask Euphie to come back early?" At the words, that hand pauses, caught by surprise. It doesn't reflect all the way up into the navigator's face, not entirely, but the admission sticks in his throat, awkward and private when it isn't his typical setting. He takes advantage of the darkness and averts his gaze. "A friend of mine was stabbed before Christmas." It's not the whole truth: Ireland isn't just a 'friend' — his best friend, his longest known friend, his first foray into real intimacy, the person he loves most next to his sister. The news that shaken him, but being with Ireland when he'd woken had helped some. The hand settles between them. "Euphie left the ship to me," Jude adds after a moment. "The crew was my responsibility and that— was compromised." Mathias hummed lightly, doubting that Jude would get this shaken up over just anyone (he had an inkling of who it could be), but he didn't press. Still the medic in him was concerned for Jude's mysterious friend, "Is your friend okay now?" "He will be," comes the soft admission. Physically, Jude continues in his mind, tonguing that word into the roof of his mouth. Emotionally, mentally — that's a whole different hurdle. The understanding that talking of Ireland is a distraction for talk of nightmares isn't lost on him, but the subject has his throat tightening. So he reaches out, twists fingers in Mathias' shirt when they can reach. "Why did you come back earlier?" "My family sucks," Mathias says plainly, closing his fingers around Jude's, pauses for a second before continuing, "And Euphie said that it wouldn't be crowded if I came back, too." There's an unsaid question in there somewhere, maybe something along the lines of whether or not the captain had been right after all. And she was, because there's an honest frown to follow. "Why would it be crowded?" "I thought you might want space, Euphie didn't disclose why you needed her to come back," Mathias's grip tightens incrementally as he speaks. The tightening, or moreso the reason behind it, is enough to prompt the navigator to lean in, his other hand too caught between them to risk using. It's not a kiss that he presses to Mathias' hair line, but almost. "You couldn't crowd me if you tried," he points out, squeezing their hands. "I'm glad you're here, Mat." Not for his nightmares, but the simple there. "I'm glad I'm here, too." Mathias smiles in the dark and snuggles closer, testing the navigator's previous statement, "And I'm glad that you're doing okay, considering. I was worried about you, you know." The huff of laughter that Jude lets out is tinged, this time, with more warmth than exhaustion. "Isn't worrying my job?" It's only half-deflection. Out of habit, he uncouples their fingers to reach around and trace comforting circles into the younger man's lower back. "What can I say? It's a two-man job," Mathias melts into his touch and grins, voice laced with amusement. Just being in the presence of Jude has made the lingering memories of the nightmare fade away. All his problems feel less impossible to face as long as Jude is there beside him. That sentiment is shared, coiled into the way the navigator leans in, lips brushing his forehead. "I don't mind, you know, carrying that weight. You have enough on your shoulders." Without having to ask, without question. Mathias pulls away, brows furrowed. Yes, he had his burdens but who more than Jude deserved someone to carry some of the weight he's shouldered? Who more than Jude deserved someone to lean on? He stares at the other man, worry etched into his features. "You can't take on everyone's emotional baggage, you know," He pauses, corrects himself, "I mean, it's you so you probably can but—just don't okay? It's not good for you. That's coming from a professional." They're not words that Jude hasn't heard before. Of all the people he's closest to in life, Ireland is the only one too similar to say the same, the only one willing to take on burdens not his own without a second thought. That was a selflessness they'd seen in each other even in adolescence. It's familiar and safe; it's what he does, to keep his loved ones from buckling from the weight. He tongues his upper lip, teeth scraping lightly. "You're not everyone, Mat," he admits. Hadn't he heard that before? Mathias sighed, running a careful hand along Jude's side. "That's maybe even worse, makes the burdens even heavier. You can't just shoulder everything on your own, Jude," He paused, averting his gaze, "You have to let me help you." One hand drew up, touch to the underside of his chin. "You are helping me, by being here." "I don't think it counts if I came here so that you could help me," Mathias raises an eyebrow, the corner of his lip tilting up into a wistful kind of smirk. It's returned as a light smile rather than a real quirk of the mouth, the hand not yet falling away. "Is it working?" "You're always helping me, even when you're not there." His eyes soften, "But yes, it is." The flood of unconditional warmth in green eyes, half-hidden by partial darkness, goes practically unseen as Jude closes the distance between them to ghost a kiss against the corner of his mouth. Whether it's for a goodnight or I'm here or something else entirely — or, in the end, all of the above — is irrelevant for the moment when the devotion behind it is true. "Then you should try to sleep. We should," he amends after a moment. Mathias blushes, though it's hidden under the cover of night. He feels like his heart is glowing from where he's pinned it to the hem of his sleeve. Without saying a thing, he presses his face into the space of Jude's neck and grins, "Good night." I love you. |