goddamngrenades | RP Open Post

This is much, much better than the restless dreamemories he was having. It's like feeling starts to seep back into him, something not unlike consciousness. He makes a small noise at the back of his throat and leans into the kiss. Reaches again, sliding fingers into hair, back of the head.

He's a bad man. Mal's not all here but he- he wants this. Is pulling him in and it's one way to ground him. One way he doesn't mind doing. He keeps his hands on Malcolm's knees and leans in, pressing, breathing, tasting. Less chaste than the first kiss. Needing some kind of noise from Mal- good, bad, or anything in between.

His mind's on York and Carolina's bodies tangled up together in each other. Thinks of the way that first kiss felt on the floor of the practice room. That feeling of wanting to be part of York, part of another person. And he's also here. He's also here, kissing York, and the next noise is somewhat louder, more in the mouth than the throat, a pleasant hum-groan, short, a pant, huff, both hands in hair now, nails itching at scalp, fingers lightly tugging.

Okay this is- he should break this off. He should- he could- he needs to but there's hands in his hair and a mouth on his and Mal's kissing back and that noise just- hits him in the pit of his stomach in the best worst way. His hands scrabble up from Mal's knees to his hips to his shoulders, reaching for the back where there's the zipper that gets to skin. HE doesn't pull it open yet just- touches. Strokes the skin at the nape of Mal's neck.

This is real. Everything that had been muted and far away slides back into place, a jumble of signals ringing loud and clear. There's a pause, where kissing turns into nuzzling, where hands slide to shoulders and grip tight. His eyes regain focus, not distant, not drifting, but here.

His voice struggles to find itself, but that he has a voice at all is...progress. "I'm here with you."

He wants to lean after. To press Mal down to his bed and just- finish what they keep teasing at but they're both still so damn wound up from the Drift- and it wasn't even that long. Didn't even do a sim together. Pulling away enough to look him in the eye is painful, but he manages. "There you are- yeah. We're out. We did good."

"Was dreaming..." His voice is still rough, and he glances at a point over York's shoulder in thought, not in drifting. "Didn't think this was reality. Aftershocks. It'll get easier?" His eyes dart back, searching for confirmation of...everything.

"Dreamt till you woke up and followed me here, looking like you weren't all there." Carolina behind him and he doesn't need to look to know she's there. It's a weight in the air, a hallow ache in the back of his head. "Yeah. It'll get easier. You were agitated at the end, that probably didn't help. Shouldn't have sprung the sim on you, sorry."

"It's...so much to take in." He ducks his head, embarrassed. "Sorry. I must have looked like a fool. But we...did well." That's what York keeps on telling him, anyway. "Enough to make us a team?"

"It gets easier." He leans forward, bumping Mal's nose with his. "Damn right. We are gonna kick so much ass, Mal. So much ass."

And Mal leans the rest of the way to kiss again. Feels good. Feels real. "You okay? You're not." Pretty clearly not. But it's polite to ask.

"...Post drift crash." He shrugs. It's still there, lingering like a cloud. He'll be fine. "Should probably talk to my doctor about mood stabilizers or something. I dunno. Can't be like this if we're gonna be working together."

"Ended it pretty abruptly. If you need something for it, I might need, too. We'll see how it goes. Maybe it'll ease up with practice." A hand ghosts along York's cheek. "What can I do?"

On his blind side and he should twitch away but- it's Malcolm. He's seen in his head. Seen his life. Lived it with him for a little while. He'll be doing more of that soon and- if he can't trust Mal with his bad side, his blind side? Who can he trust?

"Shower. Shave." He does still have stubble from the night before the night before. "Food. Real food. Not gonna wanna spar for- awhile. A week? A month. Kind of just- 'm afraid I'll jump ya."

Hell he's all but vibrating from the need to do that NOW.

His grin is slow, a little lopsided, a bit of still trying to find normal in a post-drift world and a bit of York. "I've seen both sides of your rodeo, cowboy." He might still be sorting through the details, but he knows it's all there.

"..." Okay so there was that one drunk night after Casbah where he and Clair did- they couldn't NOT have 'holy shit we didn't die' sex after that drop so. Both sides.

And Lina had made a point to have him every which way in the three hours they spent in that cabana. So. Both sides.

Now that he flips back through his mental filter he's able to match that smirk with one of his own. "Seen your game too, Mr. Smooth Operator."

"Not bad for a couple of can't-be-tied-down, one-night-standers like us." Certainly a not insignificant number of people between them. "I think your fear's a little misplaced." Maybe not given their conversation last night, but...that was last night.

"Maybe...see where we're at when we're both normalized?" Rather than both of them being not quite all here. Here, yes, and with each other, yes, but still settling back into their bones and their own skin. But he's up for the suggestion of now, in this recovery time.

"I dunno. I've heard the sounds you make and there's a trick you do with your tongue that's got me real curious." It's easier to laugh and- yeah, the weight is still there, his eye still hurts and he feels like ass but- he's not alone. He's got Mal. He's GOT Mal and mal's got him back and that- that's more than enough.

"Shower. Shave. Food. Yeah?"

He places one last, chaste kiss above York's bad eye. "Shower, shave, and food. I think I'll even be able to keep it down."

"Okay. I'm gonna clean up here. Might wanna let a tech know your shit's in this room before you go wash up in yours." The idea of being away from Mal is thoroughly enticing for all the wrong reasons and a pain in his gut for all the right ones.

But they're not at the 'showering together' stage yet. So. Break.

No, definitely not yet. Everything's too new. Needs to settle down. He leaves, lighter on his feet and not just because of being stripped down. Nabs a tech, says a few words. A shower feels like a miracle, and shaving the overnight stubble makes his face feel like he wasn't just drifting like a homeless person or puking up a night of coffee not terrible long ago.

And being away from York means that he's more himself. The drift falls away bit by bit, and, like York leaving his side to steal some food, he is better able to feel himself and not them as a singular being. His own thoughts in his own head. Better that way, to have time apart.

Food, actual food, and no, not pizza. Actual cooked food from the galley that is meant to be eaten and not swifted out in the middle of the night. He drops heavily onto a bench and can't help but still feel tired despite the rest full of dreams he got. But he's present, more present than he's been since he stepped into the pod.

He turns his shower to scalding so he won't get lost in the chill. Scrubs himself till all the gunk and funk from being in the undersuit for fucking ever is gone, leaving him pink and his scars a stark white against his skin. Actually shaves for the first time in awhile- doesn't even knick himself though the memory is overlaid with having a jaw that's more narrow and a chin that's more pointed and he has to stop for thirty seconds before he cuts himself using Malcolm's muscle memory.

It passes, like it always does, and he finishes cleaning up. Dresses in the usual 'fuck it' uniform of bdus and an oversized sweater (not his fault he's always feeling cold) and gets a tray of veggies. No meat. He doesn't need the protein right now and something fresh'll help. He doesn't actively try to avoid or find Malcolm but he ends up dropping onto the table across from him anyway.

Carolina hovers at his elbow, peering at the assortment with a wrinkled nose. You don't even like broccoli.

While York's gone momentarily vegetarian and fresh, Malcolm apparently had a hankering for the greasiest, fattest meat available. The closest to a fast food burger that was being offered.

There are, of course, looks. Furtive glances over shoulders, of those in the mess. Low conversation. It's the biggest event since the last kaiju that came near this shatterdome, of course there's talk. Malcolm has chosen to try to ignore it all as best as he can. When York arrives and finds himself sitting across the table, the conversation only increases in intensity.

He smiles. A little pale yet, a little light and dreamy, but here, and smiling.

"So." A beat, a snort of laughter before he slumps against the table, spearing his broccoli. "...you...come here often, baby?"

"...You would have been better off not saying anything, just then."

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