maskormenacelogs | do we get what we deserve?

[What, isn't he already hanging on? David's mouth moves in unvoiced words. Can't voice them. Not that he knows what he would say. But his lips move anyway. In what could be taken as a prayer. And is really...

Is really an apology. Him apologizing to Damian. Because the man clearly hurts, and he doesn't deserve that.

Healing something like this, it's not fast. It's not instant. It's... a thing. A process. And David feels weaker as it goes. But soon the weakness is just fatigue, and he's shaking not because he's cold but because adrenaline is spiking in his body, something Damian would know of course. Because now the memories are happening. Those same hands on him. No, talons. Opening the throat Damian just closed. Wielding the knife that left the pain in his chest, and the pain he's starting to notice in his leg.

And at last there's his throat done enough for him to croak out a brief statement.]

Not your fault.

[ Damian's eyes flicker to David's face at the sound of his voice — still blue, somehow even now he remembers how to keep his skin, hair, and eyes looking as they should. Whatever he sees there has him flinching. He drops his gaze again, and frees a hand to hurriedly drag across his eyes before any tears can fall. He hasn't cried since he was a child, this would be a terrible time to start. He leaves blood smeared in the wake of his hand, either his or David's. It's impossible to tell.

The throat is mended, he can sense it. Slightly less frantic now, he shifts his attention to the chest wound. That had been a solid stab, not unlike what that black-clad figure had done that strange, foggy night. He's always getting David hurt somehow, isn't he? ]

I know.

[ He says it finally, a croak of an admission. He knows it isn't his fault, not really, but it could have been. That man making all of those ruthless decisions — Damian knows him, he knows him well, and not only because they shared a consciousness and an identity.

He doesn't want to think about it. He bows his head and keeps concentrating. ]

[The more he's going through this, the more he can pick apart the pain from the familiar warmth of healing. Josh's powers. Something to further underline that whatever happened there affected here. But at least he's got a theory as to why.]

Blame the OTO and the Goddesses. That was their fault.

[His hands reach up to touch Damian's face.]

Your eyes. I'm sorry.

[ The sentiment wrenches a breath of a laugh from him, which sounds a little bit like a sob. He leans his head into that touch, eyes squeezed shut. ]

You can't absolve me of blame in one breath and then claim it in the next. It's both of us ours or neither.

[ His fingers on David's chest curl, like he might anchor him in place, see him never ripped away. The knife wound not far from one of his hands has closed to a slice, and then to nothing. His mental attention shifts for David's leg. ]

I can be sorry for what he did. Asshole. Your eyes are too beautiful for that.

[His hand moves from Damian's face to settle on the hand on his chest. The leg hurts really bad now, miserable. But he takes it in stride. So to speak. He's sticky and covered in blood and his bed is ruined, but he doesn't dare move.

Doesn't say he doesn't know what to do about all of this, how he doesn't know what day it is and what to do about Josh and his powers and he doesn't know how Damian can bear to look at him. David knows he probably couldn't stand to see the talons right now. It would kill him.]

Thank you, for coming to save me.

[ Damian looks about as miserable as he expects David must feel. There's so much floating through his head that begs addressing. So much misery to consider, to pull apart and assign blame to. So much to map out, to decide how best to never, ever end up in a place like that.

He lets out a slow, shaking breath. Even his coming to save David needs to be addressed; this isn't his power. This is a power he promised never to take, in fact. ]

I'll give it back.

[ It's a whisper, almost inaudible, maybe not even clear what it refers to — but it's a decision made, as he says it. He won't wait out the month, he'll give this power back. It feels like the least he can do, with that betrayed look from Josh still floating in his mind. ]

[David's brain, starting to catch up with the weight of the world and the way things played out back there ~~holy fuck has he had sex with Josh?~~, flinches at that statement. Because he knows what it takes for Damian to give up a stolen power. Damian himself had told David.

It's a thought made more graphic by the cloying scent of blood in the air. Like an underlying reminder of how grisly the given oath is.]

Damian, for all we know the full moon is tomorrow. Please, stop and think first.

[ God, he hopes not. He's spent enough energy on this healing, to have to recover the day after a full moon on top of it? He doesn't want to imagine it. But that's irrelevant; he shakes his head, lips pursed. ]

I'd have it for a full month, regardless.

[ But this isn't something to talk about right now, and especially not with David. This is something to slink off into the shadows to take care of. He sighs, shakes his head, shivers. This healing business is more exhausting than he'd anticipated, but the leg is almost finished. ]

You're going to need a new bedset. [ He shifts his gaze, peering over the side of the bed. ] New mattress ... new carpeting, maybe.

[Yes. His bed is ruined. It’s soaked with blood and where it has pooled it is coagulating and it’s disgusting and he needs a shower but he isn’t sure he can trust himself to walk.

More than that, though, he doesn’t know that he can trust Damian to be alone right now.]

Hey, look at me. Promise you aren’t going to do something stupid alone.

[He doesn’t think he can get Damian to not do anything stupid. Just... the alone part is hard.]

[ He does look, if reluctantly. He feels raw, nowhere near his usual composed self. He doesn't have the energy for any of that right now, and it shows. But he nods, faintly, once. ]

I know my limits, David. And I don't have a death wish.

[ But it's still, frankly, a terrifying thought, and his heart races just to seriously contemplate it. He can still picture the scars down his parents' arms, the unspoken stories of bad decisions. He glances away, and finally, the last of David's injuries smooths itself over. He leans back with a slow breath out, then offers out a hand. It trembles almost imperceptibly. ]

Here -- sit up.

[Knowing one’s limits isn’t enough in a situation like this. He’ll fear it anyway. And hate the idea of Damian doing it alone. At the same time, he doesn’t believe Damian would give him a true say in it. And he is too tired to argue. Too tired and ready to burn his clothes and bedding and sleep on a couch.

Still, prompted as he is, he lays his bare hand in Damian’s and shifts to sit up.]

Now what?

[ Now, they get him to a shower. The guy is downright shiny with blood, and it's all Damian can smell. But first ... but first, for a moment, he just looks at David, studies the man lined in the soft blue glow of harmless flames.

All of his masks are gone, and Damian's face is naked in a way it hasn't been in years. Exhaustion is written there, alongside guilt, worry, a worn out and sorrowful kind of relief. But it's only relief that what he saw hasn't come to pass yet, and it's tempered by the knowledge that it very well could.

His hand tightens around David's, stilling the infirmity in it, and without a word he leans to gently kiss him. First, this. ]

[Well, that's not a bad goal, because David could use a shower, and he's still shaking from the adrenaline. But that look he gets on Damian's face, though... God that's so soft, that's so right. And it makes his heart ache. Which is good. He licks his lips right as Damian starts to move forward, and then moves to meet that kiss. It's gentle, because he's too scared that anything more might get his lover to flee. And when he pulls back and offers a brief smile.]

Keep me company. Just for a little bit? Otherwise I feel like I'm not going to believe my own mind.

[ He can't promise staying long, he can feel the urge growing to crawl away and lick his metaphorical wounds. But, still, he nods. He can hardly turn down any request David makes of him, not now. ]

Yeah.

[ It's soft, sounds as tired as he looks. He gives that hand one more squeeze, then begins the arduous task of pulling himself to his feet. The ruined bed has left his pajama pants stained, and the formerly ruined David has given him bloody gloves up to the elbow. The David another universe away has left him a domino mask of gore, streaking across face and down cheek. All that, and he still made it out better than David has. He keeps ahold of that hand, and gives a summoning tug once he's made it to his feet. ]

[He doesn't want Damian to come far with him. Just to the bathroom. Just to where there is light and he can see himself in the mirror. Still, he holds his breath and heads down the hall to the bathroom. Once the lights are on he gasps in shock. God, he can SEE the blood drying on him already.]

Oh god, that place was hell.

[ The blue flames flicker and die as they leave the room behind, and Damian finds himself standing a few paces behind David, watching the two of them in the reflection. They look bad. Whole, intact, thanks to Josh's power, but bad. His gaze slips away, and he steps back to start the water for David. ]

Don't think about it. [ It's a mumble, advice he knows is impossible to follow. Not now, while everything is so fresh and raw, while he can still remember the flesh of David's throat tearing into slippery ribbons under his claws. He shivers. ] It doesn't do any good, just wasted energy.

[Perhaps. Then again, he has nearly died twice at Damian’s hands perhaps three times if that other him counts. And he doesn’t know what to do with that. But he lets Damian get water started for him.]

Mostly... I’m just here wondering if there is ANY world where I get a happy ending. I have seen a lot of alternate-universe Mes. That one isn’t a favorite at all. But he was... closer than I like.

[ His instruction was really more of a plead. If David thinks about this, Damian has to. He sinks to a seat on the edge of the shower, hands clasped in his lap. He can't promise anyone will ever get a happy ending, it's ridiculous to think anyone could know that. Even talking about odds of it happening -- impossible.

He gestures for David to come nearer, and lifts his arms to loop them lightly around David's waist when he has. ]

That David loved his friends and did what he could for them in a world of odds stacked against him.

[ So ... in theory, not bad, if one doesn't look at the details. Or the ending. Knowing David's particular fear about future hims, pretty good. ]

[When prompted he moves it sit with his lover and lets the man embrace him.]

That David hurt Josh by sleeping with him, and wanted to seduce Laurie away from him. That David... it doesn’t matter.

[That David wanted to die because he was frustrated. He would never admit it to himself. But he was bored and tired and more than slightly mad from his powers. He had turned into a sponge for misery and grief and suffering and his one solace had abandoned him.]

We should get cleaned.

[ A little less great, the behind the scenes details Damian had missed kind of darken the picture. But ... David's right, it doesn't matter. He closes his eyes. ]

Go. [ He gives David's side a quick pat. ] I'll go after you.

[ And he'll move himself off the edge and out of the way at some point here ... as soon as he gathers his energy. ]

[Cute, the way he thinks David will go ‘first’. Instead he starts stripping off his horribly ruined clothes before reaching out to tug at Damian’s.]

I’m not trying to be forward or anything, just to help. Josh’s powers are far more limited here, Damian. After what you did, you could well pass out if you’re left to stand on your own. Let me help clean you up and put you on the couch to sleep until you’re strong enough to face the next step. I’ll give you some of my clothes as well.

[And after David gets clean he has to... figure out his bed.]

[ Damian blinks, but acquiesces. He stands and lets David pull off the bloodied clothing without complaint, and has to admit the idea of a warm shower isn't exactly unappealing right now. ]

Don't think I don't appreciate the sentiment, but — [ He cracks a smile, and gives David's hip a fond nudge. ] Don't forget that as long as Rupert sticks around, I'm a teleporter.

I’m assuming that your bed is also slightly bloody, and that teleporting isn’t a zero-energy endeavor. But you can correct me if I am wrong.

[Once he has them undressed and hot water on, he carefully pulls his boyfriend under the spray.]

But for now, just focus on getting clean. I’ll just be here to be someone to lean against. And to fetch towels. Let me be your hands for a bit.

[ The warm water feels exactly as good as he'd hoped. He bows his head under it, closing his eyes, and takes David up on the offer. ]

It's ... I'd rather sleep in my own bed.

[ David isn't wrong, he's probably left some blood behind and teleporting isn't quite effortless, but it isn't anything he can't handle. Because, on the other hand, he'd really like a dark hole to hide in for a while with no one else around. ]

Trust me, I understand the feeling.

[And he envies it. But he wont' really comment on that. He gets it, Damian needs the space. Honestly, he would too but... he wants the comfort. And can't seek it out here. Doesn't change that he'll give space. Once he's certain Damian is cleaned up.]

There you go.

[He reaches past Damian to find soap and hold it up for Damian.]

do we get what we deserve?

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