maskormenacelogs | FANPORT OVERFLOW LOG

[ Gregor puts up with this long-sufferingly, starting to grow used to it from Kitty. He wonders if his lovers will always find him entertainingly adorable, but then realizes he has no intention of taking any more, so he's set himself up for that, hasn't he.

He tries to push the embarrassment down as they crest the stairs and Gregor has to release his arm to slip through the bedroom door. ] Yes. Well. [ Awkward has apparently overtaken the embarrassment. Gregor retrieves his poetry notebook, nothing more than a plain wirebound one, but this one full-sized, and flips it open to the correct page. The first few lines are taped to the left page in Miles's writing, and then copied over and completed on the right. This had taken quite a bit of revision, and he hadn't wanted to muddle up his copy in Miles's hand with that. ]

Here it is. --Right, you said the bed.

[ He's really not trying to make this suspenseful, it's just happening that way. ]

[ Oh. A bright streak of fondness, again, to see that Gregor saved the poetry fragment that Miles had re-written. It's terribly sweet to see Gregor's words in his hand ...

He settles himself onto Gregor's bed. Propped up comfortably in just the right spot to lean over and cuddle with Gregor once he's settled. ]

It's a romantic gesture, after all.

[ Mumbling, ] It was more because I was driving myself up a wall thinking about you. You've no idea the self-control it took me that whole week before the hotel, after I knew.

[ Which is when the final revision of this had been finished. Gregor settles in as well, propped on pillows, and after a final hesitation relinquishes the journal to him. Unlike before, it's now titled in the header. It reads:

sun-blinded

Distance is an inadequate measure for closeness,
for the space between breaths.
Sometimes we are farther apart than stars,
as far from each other as we are
from ourselves, here where all that defines us
can only be seen as reflections in each other.
You see me so clearly, yet you have missed
that there is longing in all of my fingers,
in my lips, in my soul, to be closer than breath.

You have missed so much of yourself, too,
eclipsed it with your intensity, sun-bright.
I want to trace every scar
the webbing across your skin
and outline a new color, limned in silver,
until you see what you've discarded.
All those worthless excised bits,
I want them all,
I want you.
I want to peel the dagger from your hands and
kiss every luminescent knuckle.
You own my adoration as the sun owns life:
it emanates from you. ]

You could have simply told me ...

[ But then he wouldn't have gotten all those romantic gestures, so lovely in retrospect. No, he wouldn't trade that week for all the world, despite how badly he'd been worried about it.

Miles takes the journal then and lets his gaze scan down the page. The first half is familiar; he passes over it with a bit of warmth and not much else. But the second ... He goes utterly still as the words soak in, resonating with almost painful depth. Gregor had written it about him, when he'd been going crazy trying not to tell Miles ... A swell of emotion surges up in him, as unbidden and unavoidable as the tide. Painful but good; an old wound being tended to. He's felt Gregor's acceptance, been given all the proof he needs. So why is he blinking back tears to see his worthless excised bits gathered up and treasured on the page like this? ]

Gregor ...

[ Gregor suddenly sees the point behind Miles's idea in laying on the bed for this, and tucks himself against him as he reads. The ensuing swell of emotion seeps over to him and meets a strongly answering echo, the well of feelings that had provoked writing this in the first place rippling back. Complicated and nuanced, barbed in places, messy and whole-- but utterly beautiful for all that, like in the quote from Doctor Zhivago that he'd read to Miles that night. (I don't think I could love you so much if you had nothing to complain of and nothing to regret...) More precious for how much it's endured, how much suffering lay preceding it.

Love rests a quiet resonance beneath it all. Gregor curves to hide his face against Miles's shoulder, slumping down to manage it, one arm loosely twining around Miles's waist and beneath his own arms holding the book. He can't really find what to say, casts about distantly for something. ]

I told you it wasn't in ignorance.

[ Miles shifts a bit to hold the book in one hand, so that he can reach up with the other and lay it gently on Gregor's downturned head. The echo helps. It draws off the strongest portions of that initial swell and settles it into something calmer. A precious little spark of joy to be put with his other treasured memories. Gregor is messy too. And Gregor loves MIles' own mess right back, the same as Miles loves his ... He can't help but contrast it with Kitty, who is a wonderful, amazing friend but doesn't quite get that part of it. No talk of therapy or Miles' brokenness hurting other people here. (Maybe it's for the best that he has both, in contrast - there's a thought.)

He reads through it again as he leans back against Gregor, committing the words to memory. ]

Not at all. You really did know what you were getting into. [ That faint, blurry awe rises up again. ]

[ He exhales a breath against his neck, right where he'd been kissing earlier, and nestles in further to encourage the hand in his hair. ]

I feel the same way. It keeps occurring to me that... you know exactly what you're taking on.

[ Miles leans into Gregor more, then, and lightly massages at Gregor's scalp. ]

You and Barrayar both, eh?

[ He makes a soft murmur of approval. Casual physical affection is still rare enough for Gregor that he values it. ]

Not just that. I have my own reasons that I should be in therapy.

[ Miles goes rather quiet at that. It's no surprise, really, and yet... ]

Would a native therapist even help? I can't imagine trying to unpack our world enough to get any results.

I brought that point up myself to your mother. And then there's bringing myself to trust them, rather than habitually talking rings around them.

[ He sighs against him. ]

It doesn't seem worth it.

... Yes. Yes, I agree entirely.

[ He leans, comfortable and comforted. ]

Besides. We have each other.

[ Gregor hasn't forgotten how accepting Miles had been of his last bout of depression, and how he hadn't pushed him to feel better, or even really explain any of it. That lack of pressure meant so much to him, had contributed to how quickly his feelings for Miles had deepened. Gregor himself has never been someone who pushes others-- but in light of that, he feels more motivated than ever to return that to him, to take him as he is and not ask for improvement. ]

Edited 2016-04-27 20:42 (UTC)

We can give all those worthless excised bits to each other instead?

[ Half teasing, half recalling the warm glow he'd felt - still feels - reading those words. They fit together so neatly, the two of them. And someone who can take Miles on his own terms in return is ... desperately liberating. Miles hadn't known how necessary it was for himself in turn until he'd turned around and had Gregor to give it to him. He strokes idly at Gregor's head, threading his fingers through the taller man's hair. ]

Mm. Since we don't treat them appropriately. Much safer in your hands.

[ This is a nice reversal of positions; in the past it's been Gregor doing the hair stroking. He decides immediately that he likes it, enough to blindly grope for the notebook and drop it behind him on the night table without looking. Fortunately, Gregor doesn't keep anything there but a lamp set far back toward the wall, so the journal teeters on the edge but lands safely.

This leaves him with more of Miles accessible, and him free to snuggle into him more closely. There's years of unexpressed desire to cuddle behind it, with just enough experience with Cordelia encouraging it for Gregor to know how to express it. Nonetheless, it's a drastic difference from his public persona, which has a personal space bubble a full meter in radius even with people he knows. ]

[ Miles is more than happy to help him with that lack of personal space bubble here. Another flicker of very real enjoyment at getting to cuddle up next to him. For all his tangled inadequacy issues, Miles still secretly enjoys the fact that he fits very nicely up against Gregor like this. He slips an arm gently around Gregor's waist, leaning his head up against his chest. ]

Protected with my life and my love both.

[ He's not quite sleepy -- it's too early for that -- but he is drifting nicely, settling in with Miles, making him less inhibited than normal. It's been a long day of crowds and Gregor carefully controlling himself, which he's used to from home, but he's never had someone to fall onto like this at the end of the day before.

He mumbles, ] And if you hurt yourself again without letting me help you, I will not be amused. [ He's not expecting Miles to not hurt himself (he is realistic), but doing it while shutting him out would be too much. ]

Edited 2016-04-28 04:27 (UTC)

[ A faint flicker of guilt surfaces at that. How many times has he done that already? And yet he can't promise he'll never do it again either ... ]

I'll be careful, of course. And it's not as though you can lose me for good here.

[ Gregor's giving him blanket forgiveness for anything predating them getting together, whether Miles knows that or not, but it would be hard for him to stomach Miles hurting himself and disallowing him to help when Gregor lets him in so deeply in return...

His arms tighten around him as his possessiveness boils up in automatic response to the thought. There's something brittle to it, Gregor's expectation of loss persistent and unreasoning despite all logic otherwise. ]

That is not a comfort. Accepting you in danger from external sources is one thing, [ and not something Gregor really expects to change or thinks it's his place to ask to change, ] but don't push me away, Miles, please. There's nothing I need to be shielded from in you.

[ Though he's not fully convinced the reverse is true. ]

[ Miles can feel that possessiveness boiling up. It's ... Comforting, really, if also guilt-inducing on this topic in particular. Miles' issues run deep, even with Gregor there to help him through. ]

It's not pushing, Gregor. More like I hate to drag you down with me.

[ With a touch of iron to it, if just a touch, ] Give me some credit. I'm not about to sink under your weight. Compared to what I'm used to, you don't intimidate me at all.

[ Even Miles's considerable issues don't seem insurmountable in comparison to what Gregor's used to facing day in, day out. ]

[ Miles squirms a bit, both mentally and physically. Trying to find other excuses. ]

It's not that either. I don't doubt you in the slightest - you just shouldn't have to. I can take care of such things myself.

[ It feels like a fish on a hook trying to get away. ]

Ah. I suppose I'll just stop telling you anything then, either. Since I've managed to cope with my own problems so long on my own, I must of course continue in that vein indefinitely.

[ That gets him to wince outright, with a flicker of mental pain to match. ]

That's not what I meant and you know it.

[ He softens his tone, but doesn't let up an inch in argument. ]

No, I don't know. It's my fervent wish that things between us be equal, passing in both directions. That's all.

FANPORT OVERFLOW LOG

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)