casperdisaster | IC Inbox

[gansey can't sleep. he can't even seem to begin to try, which is the worst sort of not sleeping. the room is unfamiliar, the silence is unfamiliar, and he can't seem to get the feeling of noah's thumb off the side of his mouth.

the hell with everything.

he pads silently down the hall to where noah's door stands partway open. it's for that strange, ugly cat that noah fell completely in love with, gansey knows (noah is nearly as bad as he is when it comes to adopting hopeless things), but it still looks a hell of a lot like an invitation to him.

the line of noah's shoulders is familiar in the dim, and it loosens something in gansey's chest even as it tightens something in his stomach. he carefully lifts the covers and slips into bed behind noah, fitting their bodies together and pressing his face into the fine hair on the base of noah's neck with a soft sound.]

[While the door is indeed open mainly for Shotgun, it isn't not for Gansey either. The ugly abomination of a cat is curled up in the little nest of blankets she's made in the crescent made by Noah's bent knees, head resting on the blankets over his ankles. She only gives minor protest when Gansey climbs in as well, he completes her nest of blankets nicely, so after a bit of standing, turning around a bit, she curls right back up how she was with a loud purr that peters off as she falls asleep.

Noah had only been drifting in and out. He actually sleeps better with the cat, it helps him to not be completely alone even if she's just a sloth-cat and not a person. Gansey's entrance into the bed rouses him, though gently so. Noah blinks sleepily as Gansey slides his arm over Noah's waist, presses against his back. He'd worry that one of these days it's going to be someone else and he'll just assume it's Gansey, except he doesn't think he knows anyone else inclined to do this kind of thing.

Noah gives a little sigh of his own then asks, voice quiet and thick with sleep-] Can't sleep?

Nope.

[gansey's voice is soft but there's no sleep in it at all as he nuzzles the back of noah's neck. his chest is bare and warm against the skin not covered by noah's tanktop, the thin cotton of his pajama pants cooler by contrast against his bare calves.]

Can't stop thinking.

[noah's thumb on his mouth, gansey catching it instead of letting it go, sucking on the pad of his finger. the taste of the back of noah's neck, the way the base of his spine fits perfectly against gansey's stomach when they're curled up like this.]

[Noah appreciates the solidity of Gansey's chest, he'd like to turn and appreciate it better but Shotgun is so comfortable and sleepy against the bend of his knee he can't move her. Noah's still more asleep than awake as Gansey nuzzles against the back of his neck, a pleased sound escaping his throat at the action even as it's slightly ticklish.

He draws a sharp breath as he rather abruptly wakes up, Gansey's thoughts touching his at the edge. Who wouldn't wake up at that? Noah considers briefly pretending to fall back asleep but he's pretty sure he's well and fucked by the gasp a moment before.

He wants Gansey to keep thinking about it. He wants Gansey to stop. The walls are too thin and there is too much on the line for him to allow himself anything he wants.]

... O-oh?

Sorry.

[gansey knows that sometimes his thoughts leak when they're touching like this, so he is but he's not, exactly. he wants noah so badly, and it's so clear in his thoughts that it's noah, noah's pale skin and delicate shoulders and bright smile, the scrape on his knee from skateboarding, the curve of his cheekbones in the sun, the tangle of their fingers over the wash of the sea, the sudden dig of his shoulderblades back into gansey's chest as he gasps. his lips press to the join of noah's shoulder, warm and dry.]

It's hard to stop thinking.

[Noah knows he needs to change the subject, to get Gansey to sleep, to do something to get Gansey's thoughts away from where they are. Who wouldn't be affected by that, though? It's just been so long and... Gansey, of all people, magnificent and untouchable who keeps thinking about touching Noah who is still having a hard time believing is for a reason other than Noah is there and uncomplicated and not one of Gansey's surrogate brothers.

Noah can't take advantage of it, any more than he already has. Kissing is one thing. Nothing wrong with kissing. Noah doesn't even particularly associate it as something romantic, it's fun and you can do it with people you just met at parties, after all.

God, it's been years.]

... Nothing's wrong with... with just thinking.

[if noah thinks that gansey is just taking advantage of there and uncomplicated then he's ignoring an awful lot. there's wistfulness wrapped up in all that want; the way noah comes up from sleep in the morning slow and lazy, the unguarded smile he gives at seeing gansey there before he remembers that this isn't supposed to mean anything, the way something in gansey's chest always seems to know where noah is in a room, the way he just wants to touch noah, to bump shoulders or brush knees for no reason at all.

it's pining, really, is what it is, beneath the lusting. gansey doesn't just want noah, he wants noah, wants him exactly as he is, to touch and taste and know every inch of him, and it wouldn't be the same with anyone else. gansey has it so, so bad.

his mouth is soft on noah's neck, brushing against his ear, but the rest of him is still in all the places that they touch.]

What about kissing and thinking?

[The lusting is actually much easier for Noah to understand than the pining. Noah's the one who pines, who wants something, someone, he can't have. Either for lack of interest on their part or lack of ability on his. It's a comfortably painful truth that has carried him until now.

He is mild and uncomplicated and available and that's perfectly fine. Mister Right Now, not Mister Right.

Goosebumps are popping up on Noah's skin, his breathing getting just a bit irregular as Gansey continues to brush his lips against Noah's neck, his ear.]

... If I move I'll wake Shotgun, she just got comfortable again.

[if only gansey agreed. but he doesn't, and when noah refuses to roll over there's...well, there's sexual frustration, but more than that there's the shockingly sharp aching twist of being rejected, although gansey is good enough at hiding his emotions on the outside that his lips don't pause on noah's neck and ear. his stillness against noah is taut now, though, anticipating being told that he's unwanted there. his mind provides a thousand easy reasons why: gansey is difficult, he's overbearing, he's demanding, he feels too much, too strongly, wants too singlemindedly instead of constantly questioning his choices, noah wants pretty, dangerous rook instead.]

Do you want me to go?

[Noah needs to say 'yes'. It's just one word and it can fix everything. It'll hurt, letting Gansey think he's rejected, but it'll be for the best. He can find someone else to keep him occupied here, someone who isn't incomplete, stuck between alive and dead without being either. Adam and Ronan won't look at him funny, won't call it a 'weird thing' he's got going with Gansey even without knowing what it is, won't hate him when they find out because there won't be anything to find out.

One word, one syllable, he needs to say it.

He doesn't realize how cold he's gone until there's a soft sound something like a meow and a squeak down by his feet as Shotgun sits up, startled by the chill. He hadn't realized he'd let his hand slide over Gansey's as well and he abruptly lets go, God, he's got to be freezing cold. There's probably no need to say anything, no one wants to touch him like this.

With any luck there's no need to say anything, because the word sticks in his throat. Noah normally has no problem with lying, with putting the needs of others before his own. He just needs to say 'yes', but when he opens his mouth no sound comes out at all.]

[noah goes from sleep-warm to freezing cold in a sort enough time to startle his hideous cat, and gansey too. he expected an easy yes or no, but this is something else entirely. noah goes cold when he's afraid, and gansey's thoughts go from the painful tangle of rejection to a strange jumble of rejection and concern, the sort of concern that comes up deep and unbidden and automatic because gansey cares infinitely more about noah than he does about finding reasons to dislike and pity himself.

his arm tightens automatically, more or less lifting noah to slide his other arm under his neck so that it can loop around to pet noah's hair, and it's all gentleness and love, love love. gansey is so good at loving and so bad at hiding it, even though expressing it sometimes goes equally as wrong.]

Noah, hey now. It's just me. What are you afraid of?

[Feelings are never an easy yes or no, not when they're Noah's feelings. Well, it works as a mood killer at least, even if what he was hoping for was Gansey getting fed up, Gansey leaving, because when Gansey pulls him closer all Noah can do is crowd as close to Gansey as possible. He rolls onto his back, because Shotgun is now already disturbed and annoyed, stomping around at the foot of the bed before hopping off of it to seek someplace warmer, curls up tight against Gansey's chest. He's cold as a corpse and Gansey is so very warm.]

I don't want you to go.

[The confession is a melancholy one, Noah's voice thick with guilt when he finally gets the quietly spoken words out.]

Then I won't go.

[he gathers noah up tight, tucks his chilled face into his neck and holds him despite the fact that he's uncomfortably cold against gansey's bare skin. it seems insignificant at the moment, when something is so very wrong. it's not as though noah can take anything from gansey besides his physical body heat; he doesn't have the right kind of energy for that.]

Why do you make that sound like it's a bad thing? What's going on in that pretty head of yours?

I shouldn't have said it.

[It's awful. Noah is awful and selfish and when he gets into his melancholy moods it's so difficult to pull him out of them. Back at Monmouth they were short bursts of despair before he faded, returning sometime later back to normal. There's no disappearing now, like this, and he has to ride it out and it's awful. Feelings are awful. His voice is muffled against Gansey's skin, so quiet.]

I should have just said yes.

Not if it isn't true, you shouldn't have.

[the thing is, gansey spent almost the entire time since they arrived in this place dealing with noah's fear, with his own demons, with adam and ronan tearing at themselves and each other, with ramsey, who is undoubtedly completely insane but who gansey can bring back from inside his head. his masks are chipped and faded from disuse, his nerves closer to the surface but his patience grown long and steady for what he thinks is worth it. noah has been worth it since day one, since the first text message, since the first train stop, and he's worth it now. gansey rubs his back, pets the fine fluff of his hair, pulls the blanket around them close and tight.]

Why would you want to lie?

Because.

[It's the only answer Noah gives at first, curled against Gansey. He doesn't get any warmer, staying so cold he may as well be dead except for the fact that he's so very solid still. He'd vanish if he didn't have a body. He's drawing off his own energy to make the cold, not Cabeswater's, so it will just end with him exhausted and grumpy like a two year old in need of a nap later down the line - sooner rather than later with the steady force of it.]

Because then you'd hurt for a little while, but then it'd be over. Not like... trying to weather this. Weather me.

You're not a storm. You're Noah.

[gansey gives noah a gentle little shake, affectionate but also a little stern.]

You don't get it, do you? I know what you are. I know you think that missing pieces makes you less than a whole. I don't care. We're all missing pieces, Noah. We've all lost parts of ourselves that aren't ever coming back. When have I ever loved something because it was whole and flawless?

[feelings are awful, especially when they're true and honest and raw.]

[Noah isn't sure he is a storm either. A storm has some graceful natural beauty about it even in its destruction. Alive, Noah thinks he's more like a wildfire in the dry season, caused by some dumbass who throws a lit cigarette out his car window without thinking. And Gansey uses that word again, the L-word, so full of so much terrifying possibility, a responsibility to heavy it makes Noah's chest ache like a great weight is resting on it.]

You deserve better.

Bullshit. People don't get what they deserve. Look at...look at any of us. I don't care what anyone thinks I deserve, I care about what I choose.

[his fingers run through noah's hair, and he rests his nose and mouth against it, breathing in slowly and out just as slow.]

The ley line didn't give us any choice about being connected. You didn't deserve what Whelk did, just like I didn't do anything to deserve to survive that day. That was something bigger than either of us. But at Monmouth, on the train, at the stops...that was all exactly as big as you and me, Noah. You being the you that you are now...what's wrong with me choosing that?

You don't understand.

[It's less the wail of despair than it was back at Monmouth, when he was lamenting his own decay. It's a quiet, resigned repetition. You don't understand, and Noah can't explain, can't ever find the right words for it. His hands are cold, curled against Gansey's chest, but he can't bring himself to pull away.]

Then help me understand. If you really don't want this, I'll respect that. But...you aren't going to save me from the reality of you, Noah, because I'll still be right beside you, just a step further away.

[the words are a quiet plea into noah's hair, breath a hot puff over his head. gansey isn't warm as he was, but he's still warmer than noah's ghost-cold skin.]

[When you're dead, everyone feels warm if they've got any heat to them at all, and Noah selfishly soaks it up since Gansey has yet to push him away. He continues to be cold, he'll just have to run himself into exhaustion, he's too deep into a rut of melancholy now.]

I don't even know what 'this' is.

[It's also selfish, making Gansey define it. Noah was perfectly content to not do so, to leave it unspoken to be whatever was comfortable, but if Gansey keeps treating it like a real thing then he'll leave it to Gansey to give it a name. Gansey is so much better at naming than Noah.]

[noah soaks up his warmth and gansey selfishly lets it happen, because he doesn't want to let go.]

I think that's not really true at all, Noah.

[his tone contains only the tiniest drop of reprimand, but noah's right. gansey is the one who names things.]

Usually when two friends keep ending up sleeping in the same bed holding each other and finding excuses to spend time together alone and kissing and...wanting to do more than kissing, that could be considered being in a relationship.

[there's more he wants to say, more his mind keeps barreling forward with, but his words stop there.]

Edited 2015-08-18 02:51 (UTC)

[A relationship is still a frightening thing, but less frightening than outright declarations of feelings. Relationships can still be casual, Noah's had plenty of casual relationships, so he knows. That isn't what this is and it isn't what he actually wants, not either thing by a long shot, but Noah wants most right now to be comforted and he's willing to believe many things that aren't true in order to obtain that comfort. So. 'A relationship'. Perfectly vague and inoffensive.]

... I could do a relationship. [Noah's words are quiet, ponderously slow and audibly hesitant. He swallows, presses his face against the skin of Gansey's shoulder.]

You know. If you're sure.

[gansey lets noah have his thinking time, just breathing into his hair and rubbing his back. this is one of those ponderous fulcrum moments, he knows, where the world changes one way or the other.

when noah finally does answer, gansey lets out the breath he didn't realize he was holding, and lets his head fall to noah's shoulder, dropping a little kiss there.]

I'm sure.

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