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maskormenacelogs2019-08-02 10:55 pm
solarcharged) wrote in maskormenacelogs2019-08-02 10:55 pm
Entry tags:
closed | you were a bright light
WHO: Apollo & Midnighter
WHERE: Nonah 001
WHEN: The early hours, early in August
WHAT: The “oh shit, we’re actually dating, aren’t we” talk
WARNINGS: none
The peculiar meteorite rain seems to have brought with it an upswing in stupid native villain bullshit, like April showers and May flowers. It keeps Apollo happily busy, filling his nights with idiots trying to use their new-found powers make a desperate grab for money, or weapons, or drugs, or whatever it is they fancied on any given night. And it’s a good excuse to spend time with Midnighter (not that he needs an excuse) - a shared propensity for creative violence seems to be a staple for Midnighters and Apollos across the multiverse, and Apollo loves how M elevates it to an artform. And Apollo would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it; not the violence necessarily, but just the sheer animal vitality of fighting alongside someone who Apollo trusts so absolutely as M. Working with Midnighter is like humming an old tune, remembered perfectly even after years and years and years of trying to remember the refrain in solitary silence. The bone-deep rightness of it all is so strangely natural, even with the yawning gap of universes between them, that it catches Apollo at odd moments, leaving him breathless with wonder as he watches Midnighter work out of the corner of his eye.
It’s in the early hours of the morning - Apollo, low on sunlight, Midnighter, his fists bloody - that Apollo finds himself watching the other man with a sidelong glance. Mereorite-enhanced natives (six, an even share of three each) lie in groaning heaps in the 4am moonlight, as Apollo absently folds the villains’ assault rifles into easy thirds. He watches Midnighter thoughtfully and discards the wreckage with a clatter of finality.
“Let’s call it a night...”
They’ve done more than enough and Apollo’s starting to feel that warm, weary, oh-so-human tiredness that comes in the dark hours of the morning. There’s a momentary pause then, seemingly out of nowhere, he suggests:
“Come home with me?”
Four little words for such a significant milestone. Apollo has been meaning to properly show Midnighter around Nonah 001 (M sneaking in with the tickets didn’t count) but there had been something, some strange wooden feeling in the pit of his stomach, that had always stopped him from voicing that invitation out loud. Apollo tries to pretend that he isn’t intensely aware that this is a Development with a capital D as he grins sheepishly in the half-light.
“You’re probably overdue a visit.”
WHERE: Nonah 001
WHEN: The early hours, early in August
WHAT: The “oh shit, we’re actually dating, aren’t we” talk
WARNINGS: none
The peculiar meteorite rain seems to have brought with it an upswing in stupid native villain bullshit, like April showers and May flowers. It keeps Apollo happily busy, filling his nights with idiots trying to use their new-found powers make a desperate grab for money, or weapons, or drugs, or whatever it is they fancied on any given night. And it’s a good excuse to spend time with Midnighter (not that he needs an excuse) - a shared propensity for creative violence seems to be a staple for Midnighters and Apollos across the multiverse, and Apollo loves how M elevates it to an artform. And Apollo would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it; not the violence necessarily, but just the sheer animal vitality of fighting alongside someone who Apollo trusts so absolutely as M. Working with Midnighter is like humming an old tune, remembered perfectly even after years and years and years of trying to remember the refrain in solitary silence. The bone-deep rightness of it all is so strangely natural, even with the yawning gap of universes between them, that it catches Apollo at odd moments, leaving him breathless with wonder as he watches Midnighter work out of the corner of his eye.
It’s in the early hours of the morning - Apollo, low on sunlight, Midnighter, his fists bloody - that Apollo finds himself watching the other man with a sidelong glance. Mereorite-enhanced natives (six, an even share of three each) lie in groaning heaps in the 4am moonlight, as Apollo absently folds the villains’ assault rifles into easy thirds. He watches Midnighter thoughtfully and discards the wreckage with a clatter of finality.
“Let’s call it a night...”
They’ve done more than enough and Apollo’s starting to feel that warm, weary, oh-so-human tiredness that comes in the dark hours of the morning. There’s a momentary pause then, seemingly out of nowhere, he suggests:
“Come home with me?”
Four little words for such a significant milestone. Apollo has been meaning to properly show Midnighter around Nonah 001 (M sneaking in with the tickets didn’t count) but there had been something, some strange wooden feeling in the pit of his stomach, that had always stopped him from voicing that invitation out loud. Apollo tries to pretend that he isn’t intensely aware that this is a Development with a capital D as he grins sheepishly in the half-light.
“You’re probably overdue a visit.”
no subject
Whenever M was with Apollo, those thoughts mostly disappeared. Having the older man's arms wrapped around him while he listens to his heartbeat feels so right, like it's where he belonged. He reaches out and runs a free arm through his long silver hair and smiles.]
I'd say we've both already made our decision. [Because frankly, he needs him too.]
no subject
So we're doing this, [ He whispers incredulously, savouring the feeling of M's hand in his hair. ] We're really doing this.
no subject
We're doing this.
[Even if things go to hell, he's still willing to take that chance.]
no subject
Come here.
[ The words are a gentle murmur but there's a hint of an order to it. As if he ever needs to order M to do anything. With warm hands he coaxes M to creep higher, to shimmy gently up Apollo's body so that Apollo can seek out what he really wants - a kiss, desperate to convey all the heartache of their terrible situation through the hungry press of his lips against Midnighter's. ]
no subject
This felt right. It had to be right.]