[John hears Poe's voice and the ship takes a nosedive. He barely pulls up in time to save it from being smashed into the corner of Chyler's desk, the propellers scattering her papers all over the floor. Oops.
Ace pilot. That's him.
John looks up, removes his feet from the desk, and does his best impersonation of a casual human. It involves picking up a mug and hovering it near his mouth without drinking, the remote control still held in one hand.]
Uh, yeah. You know. I didn't actually get banged up all that hard.
You look good. Better, I mean. More alive.
[A nod, sipping his coffee, which from the look on his face he obviously forgot to put sugar in.]
[ The surge of affection Poe feels when he sees John’s expression twist over his coffee is almost alarming. God, he missed this man, he missed him so much. ]
Thanks. I feel more, y’know. That. [ He fingers the thin scab that runs behind his ear. ] Uh. I had a question.
[John takes another sip, because what else is he supposed to do. Another slightly lesser cringe.
He has some idea where this conversation is going. They'd kissed (and more) under duress. Poe is here to make sure John knows it didn't mean anything.]
[ There’s a reason Poe didn’t bring BB-8 with him to this little meeting. Now that he knows John can understand the droid, he didn’t want Bee getting to the point before Poe himself could manage it. ]
Want to do something? Go... somewhere. Just us, just around here, for fun?
[ Why is that word so hard to say. He drags a hand through his hair and pretends to be interested in the flowers on Chyler’s desk. ] Like a date, I mean. Not like a date, an actual one.
[John stops pretending to drink his coffee and sits back in his chair.
He really looks at Poe for the first time since he walked through the door. Poe, with his beautiful brown eyes, beautiful face, and his beautiful soul. He's a good person at heart. John knows that.
It's why he fell in love with him. And why John wasn't surprised when Poe left.
People like Poe don't stay with men like John Sheppard.]
[ Poe looks at John properly, somewhere between hurt, angry, and confused. It's not a nice cocktail, and even as he tries to keep it to himself, he doesn't do a very good job. He never does a good job of hiding his emotions. ]
That's not-- I'm not doing it because I have to do it, or because I think I have to. I thought-- I thought--
[ Poe falters. Force, was he wrong? Does John not think of what happened out there the same way he does? ]
I wanted to do it right this time. I wanted to do it right. If there's gonna be an us, I mean, if you wanted. You don't have to.
[ He can feel heat in his cheeks and is glad, not for the first time, that his blushes don't really show. Talk about embarrassing.
He clears his throat, trying for all he's worth to sound casual. ]
I'll let you get back to.... [ Work? ] ...to what you were doing.
[ Poe hopes, when he comes back to the apartment, that John will be alone. He'll explain himself to everyone if he has to, and he's going to make his apologies to Finn and Rey, but...
What he wants to say to John, he wants to say alone.
And luck is with him. When he pushes open the door to their place, there's John in the kitchen, the living room empty. Given that those are the only two spaces the four of them really use? Well. Small favors. ]
[John's drinking some of that dark sludge they call coffee. You could run a tank off it. His heart's already pounding in his chest.
Or maybe that's just what Poe Dameron does to him. Spikes his blood pressure like a goddamn shot of espresso.
He wasn't expecting to see him so soon. Poe's temper burns hot, and it usually takes a while for him to cool down. John braces himself for a fight, fingers clenching tighter around the handle of his make-shift mug.]
[ Poe can't tell what he feels when he sees John. He's still angry. He's confused. More than anything he's hurt, tender bruises guarded by that barrier of temper.
Poe throat squeezes. ]
I don't want us to go into this with a fight being the last thing we have.
[ Poe's jaw works. He doesn't want to apologize. He doesn't even really think he should. Finally, he looks away. ]
What do you want from me? I don't. [ He rubs his face with both hands and then scrubs them up through his hair. ] I don't know what you want from me. I feel like I can't take a step without you saying it's in the wrong direction.
[So they're doing this right here, right now, huh? At least they're alone. Not that John doesn't glance to either side of the kitchen, just to make sure. It's a small house, and these are big issues.
He looks across the room to Poe, leaning back against the scrap kitchen table. John is calm. Poe goes hot when he's angry. John goes cold.]
Do you hear yourself right now? Take a moment. Play it back. You don't know. You feel. Sounds more like this is how you feel about you than about me.
[ Poe can feel himself tearing up in frustration and he hates it. He hates how easily John can find his cracks and how willing he is to apply hammer and chisel. ]
That's not-- [ He presses his fingertips against closed eyes until he sees starbursts, trying to force the pinprick burn back. ] Just answer the question.
I want you to get your head out of your ass, and pull yourself together. You're a mess right now.
[John leaves his coffee on the table. Steps forward. His eyes scanning Poe up and down. Not judging. Studying. Assessing. He purses his lips.]
So what's up with you? I haven't seen you like this since--
[That night John took Poe home trashed from the bar, and fought his every internal demon to put put to bed without making a decision both of them would regret.]
[ He doesn't want to tell John. It hurts to realize that. He doesn't want to tell John how hard the last six months have been, sitting around with nothing to do and no resources to fight with, being toyed with by the gods, facing odds that are so familiar they keep him up at night.
He doesn't want to tell John what a relief it was to feel nothing, and the struggle it's been just to function since.
So he steps back. His back hits the wall and he closes his eyes, not wanting to see John's face. ]
Just... fuck off, Sheppard. [ It's barely a whisper, without force or energy. ]
[Maybe that's why he's so frustrated, because Poe won't tell him. Something has been clearly, majorly wrong since he's showed up, and no one's said anything. Least of all Poe. Except for that weird as hell interaction they had when everyone's moods were all over the place, but John was so in his own head, he wasn't in any place to really listen.
All he could think about, selfishly, was his own broken heart.
John takes another step forward. Poe doesn't have a clear retreat. He lost that opportunity when he wouldn't let John go first. Now they're both stuck here in the same stupid dance they've been doing for weeks.]
No, you fuck off. You're the one who came to me. So we either hash this out like grown men, or you can run away like a freakin' baby and keep crying about it.
[ And that's it: he breaks. He feels himself sliding down the wall, curling in on himself, like an idiot, like a freaking baby, covering his face like that will hide the fact he's weeping.
He should have gone to Finn. It would have been easier to confess it all to Finn. Why is he even here? Why can't he just be done with this man, why can't he just let John go?
God, he's not a commander. He's unfit, he can't even keep himself together, he can't lead for shit. He's been trying, he's been trying, but there's no one for him to lead, there's nothing but fights that aren't his. And this fight, this fight, with these corrupt gods surviving on kidnapped people they torture month by month as the better of two evils. He would kill the Null and the gods if he could.
He would make it hurt. ]
Fuck. [ He digs his hands into his hair and leans forward, quiet voice slowly climbing in volume, still crying. ]
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!
[ Poe rests his face on his knees and starts to sob. ]
[John should walk away. He should leave this to someone like Finn, or even Rey, someone from Poe's world. His friends. Family. John doesn't know what he is to Poe anymore. Doesn't even know what he wants to be.
All John does know is Poe needs someone, and he needs someone right here, right now.
Maybe he isn't the right guy for it, but at least he's someone.
John walks over to Poe and crouches on one knee down beside him. Contrary to popular belief, he doesn't want to lord over Poe, or make him feel any more like shit than he already does. John takes a deep breath. Steels himself.
Seeing Poe cry... No, he isn't going to think about himself right now. John can mull those feelings over later. Or, you know, push them down deep and ignore them.
He's such a hypocrite.]
Hey. C'mon. It's okay. Just... let it out. Better here than the battlefield.
[John reaches out with one hand, gently cupping Poe's shoulder. Offering silent support.
This has been a long time coming. Every man has their limits, and Poe has reached his.]
[ Poe's not sure how long he spends crying. He just knows that John's hand stays on his shoulder, the heat of him is close and comforting, and that he needs this.
When he stops, it's because he's too tired to keep it up. For a few seconds he just stays with his face against his knees, just breathing. ]
Gotta stop doing this. [ It's only partially a joke. He aches when he remembers the other times John was there for him. Once when they were almost strangers. Once when Karen didn't understand anything, and John understood it all. ]
They took... [ He struggles for a second, then goes on. ] They scraped me out. [ It doesn't occur to him that he's using Finn's terminology. ] They took it all away, everything I was... everything. All the fear, all the anger, everything. Then they just dumped it all back into me and I don't know what to do with it.
[ He straightens up, staring at his hands. ] I want to kill them. If we didn't need them to get home, I would find a way.
That's a lot. On top of everything else. Sometimes the stuff we see, the stuff we do...it never really stops hurting, but you learn to live with it. Get used to it.
So when took it all away, and threw it all back at you-- yeah, that's a lot for one man to take all at once. Probably drive most men crazy. No shit you're having a hard time.
[John doesn't know if he could've coped any better, if at all. There have been moments it seemed easier, faster, cleaner, after something big and bad just happens, to just end it all, then keep on keeping on with his worthless, miserable life.
His hand stays on Poe's shoulder. Squeezes.]
I know you do. You've got every right. I'd kill 'em for you, if I could.
[But he can't. All he can do is sit here and flap his gums, like any of it means anything. Words can't take Poe's pain away. John knows. There isn't a bandage for that kind of hurt. All you can do is wait for the scab to form, and hope you don't rub it raw again in the meantime.]
Sorry. I didn't know that's what you were going through. When that all happened. I was caught up in my own crap.
No one knew. I think maybe Finn guessed. But no one knew.
[ Poe lets his head fall back to rest against the wall, staring up at the ceiling. His face is damp. He feels hot all over, that muggy kind of feeling that comes with crying hard for a long time.
He looks at John without moving, like somehow if he does move John will pull away. He's not ready for that. He doesn't want it. ]
I kept them. [ He presses his hand against his shirt, then reaches up to pull the tangle of chains hidden under his shirt into the light with the soft clinking of metal. John's dog tags, wound around the chain that holds his mother's ring.
He lets both drop against his chest, throat working as he tries to swallow (swallow nerves, swallow another wave of tears). ] I thought I'd never see you again.
[With every argument, John was becoming more and more convinced his dog-tags were in the trash somewhere. Why would Poe keep them? Guilt? John regrets putting that decision on him, especially at that ugly beautiful moment, but he wasn't thinking straight.
John had waited what felt like forever to hear Poe say "I love you". Of course it happened then, when they were both certain they wouldn't see each other again. Because almost as soon as John loves something, he loses it. Always.
Now it's his turn to struggle to swallow, looking away from Poe's eyes. Staring at the dog-tags. What do they mean? What does any of this mean?]
Didn't think you would. Didn't think I would see you again, either. So that's two things I got wrong.
[His eyes flit up to Poe's face, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards into a shadow of a smirk.]
See. I don't think I'm right all the time. Just most of the time.
[ Poe laughs weakly, playing with the dog tags, running them between his thumb and fingers one by one. He's quiet for a little while, quiet for what probably feels like a long while, rolling the best thing to say back and forth in his head.
Maybe there is no best thing to say. Maybe, with John, he'll always say the wrong thing. He's borderline terrified of saying anything at all.
He closes his fist around tags and ring. ]
I still mean.... I meant.... When I said what I said, I....
[John stills. His smirk staying in place, if only because it's frozen.
His eyes are on Poe's eyes, searching for something, anything, to help decipher the meaning of that comment. John doesn't want to guess. He doesn't want to assume. He already learned that Poe Dameron is an impulsive, unpredictable man the hard way.
Instead of reacting, he keeps the same calm he would diffusing a bomb. His voice level, and his gaze steady, even as his heart kicks against his ribs and the sweat rolls down his back.]
[John doesn't know either. He still loves Poe. That much, he knows.
Whether or not they can or should be together, and what that would look like, is something he's spent a significant amount of time trying not to think about.
Sometimes you love a person, but you don't mesh with in that way. That's life.
Except John can't seem to mesh with anyone, regardless of the relationship. He couldn't with his father and brother. Or his ex-wife. He couldn't even bring himself to try with Teyla, knowing it would probably go bad and ruin the team dynamic. John thought Poe was different, that maybe he would be the one, right when the idea of 'the one' was starting to sound more like fantasy than reality, but he was wrong.
John reached out, and Poe slapped him away. That hurt. Then he came back at John with a confession of his love when it was too late to matter. That hurt too.
As badly as John wants to hear Poe say that again, he's been twice bitten. Logic says he would be opening himself up to another world of hurt. This one worse than the last. What kind of idiot would take those odds?
The answer is this idiot.
Looking into Poe's eyes, so dark and wet John can almost see himself in them, he doesn't disbelieve him, but that's always been the problem. Poe means it in the moment, and John always believes him. Then the moment passes.
Poe's in a state right now, scared, vulnerable, more than a little screwed up, what wouldn't he say for human contact? This moment feels a lot like their first moment, when Poe was drunk and hurting, and John had to fight down his every mortal urge to put Poe to bed.
John takes a deep breath. Squeezes Poe's shoulder.]
What I don't want is for you to worry about that right now. Shelve it. Come back to it later when you're in a better state of mind. We've got bigger problems, and you need to worry about yourself first.
[ It almost, almost silences him. Shelve it, John says. I don't want you to worry about it. Come back to it later in a better state of mind.
We've got bigger problems, worry about yourself first, nothing means anything if--]
No.
[ He fingers the dog tags gently. He's so tired, and it hurts so much, and he can't let this go, not again. If he lets it go this time he's going to let it go forever. He knows that. If he lets it go this time, that's it. The hope for anything between them is gone. ] You know, back when you were sick, before we knew you were sick, I came to talk to you in the shuttle hangar. You don't remember it.
[ He can't look at John, but he doesn't stop talking. If he stops there's the chance he won't start again. ]
I wanted to tell you right then that I'd fucked up, that I wanted to give things another shot, that I'd run scared and you deserved better. You told me to stop pretending I cared. You told me I just wanted to make myself feel better, that the only thing I missed when I said I missed you, was someone following after me like a dog. That I got off on your rank.
[ He pushes off the floor, gathers himself and get to his feet. This isn't the kind of thing to say from the ground. ] How much of that was because you were sick?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2018-10-15 05:32 am (UTC)Ace pilot. That's him.
John looks up, removes his feet from the desk, and does his best impersonation of a casual human. It involves picking up a mug and hovering it near his mouth without drinking, the remote control still held in one hand.]
Uh, yeah. You know. I didn't actually get banged up all that hard.
You look good. Better, I mean. More alive.
[A nod, sipping his coffee, which from the look on his face he obviously forgot to put sugar in.]
(no subject)
Date: 2018-10-15 05:42 am (UTC)Thanks. I feel more, y’know. That. [ He fingers the thin scab that runs behind his ear. ] Uh. I had a question.
(no subject)
Date: 2018-10-15 05:51 am (UTC)He has some idea where this conversation is going. They'd kissed (and more) under duress. Poe is here to make sure John knows it didn't mean anything.]
Shoot.
(no subject)
Date: 2018-10-15 05:57 am (UTC)[ There’s a reason Poe didn’t bring BB-8 with him to this little meeting. Now that he knows John can understand the droid, he didn’t want Bee getting to the point before Poe himself could manage it. ]
Want to do something? Go... somewhere. Just us, just around here, for fun?
[ Why is that word so hard to say. He drags a hand through his hair and pretends to be interested in the flowers on Chyler’s desk. ] Like a date, I mean. Not like a date, an actual one.
(no subject)
Date: 2018-10-15 06:09 am (UTC)[John stops pretending to drink his coffee and sits back in his chair.
He really looks at Poe for the first time since he walked through the door. Poe, with his beautiful brown eyes, beautiful face, and his beautiful soul. He's a good person at heart. John knows that.
It's why he fell in love with him. And why John wasn't surprised when Poe left.
People like Poe don't stay with men like John Sheppard.]
You don't have to do this, just because we...
(no subject)
Date: 2018-10-16 12:30 am (UTC)That's not-- I'm not doing it because I have to do it, or because I think I have to. I thought-- I thought--
[ Poe falters. Force, was he wrong? Does John not think of what happened out there the same way he does? ]
I wanted to do it right this time. I wanted to do it right. If there's gonna be an us, I mean, if you wanted. You don't have to.
[ He can feel heat in his cheeks and is glad, not for the first time, that his blushes don't really show. Talk about embarrassing.
He clears his throat, trying for all he's worth to sound casual. ]
I'll let you get back to.... [ Work? ] ...to what you were doing.
[TOTALLY IN THE HADRIEL INBOX]
Date: 2019-05-30 03:56 am (UTC)What he wants to say to John, he wants to say alone.
And luck is with him. When he pushes open the door to their place, there's John in the kitchen, the living room empty. Given that those are the only two spaces the four of them really use? Well. Small favors. ]
(no subject)
Date: 2019-05-30 04:15 am (UTC)Or maybe that's just what Poe Dameron does to him. Spikes his blood pressure like a goddamn shot of espresso.
He wasn't expecting to see him so soon. Poe's temper burns hot, and it usually takes a while for him to cool down. John braces himself for a fight, fingers clenching tighter around the handle of his make-shift mug.]
I was just leaving.
(no subject)
Date: 2019-05-30 04:23 am (UTC)[ Poe can't tell what he feels when he sees John. He's still angry. He's confused. More than anything he's hurt, tender bruises guarded by that barrier of temper.
Poe throat squeezes. ]
I don't want us to go into this with a fight being the last thing we have.
[ Poe's jaw works. He doesn't want to apologize. He doesn't even really think he should. Finally, he looks away. ]
What do you want from me? I don't. [ He rubs his face with both hands and then scrubs them up through his hair. ] I don't know what you want from me. I feel like I can't take a step without you saying it's in the wrong direction.
(no subject)
Date: 2019-05-30 04:44 am (UTC)He looks across the room to Poe, leaning back against the scrap kitchen table. John is calm. Poe goes hot when he's angry. John goes cold.]
Do you hear yourself right now? Take a moment. Play it back. You don't know. You feel. Sounds more like this is how you feel about you than about me.
(no subject)
Date: 2019-05-30 04:48 am (UTC)That's not-- [ He presses his fingertips against closed eyes until he sees starbursts, trying to force the pinprick burn back. ] Just answer the question.
(no subject)
Date: 2019-05-30 03:40 pm (UTC)[John leaves his coffee on the table. Steps forward. His eyes scanning Poe up and down. Not judging. Studying. Assessing. He purses his lips.]
So what's up with you? I haven't seen you like this since--
[That night John took Poe home trashed from the bar, and fought his every internal demon to put put to bed without making a decision both of them would regret.]
(no subject)
Date: 2019-05-30 04:14 pm (UTC)He doesn't want to tell John what a relief it was to feel nothing, and the struggle it's been just to function since.
So he steps back. His back hits the wall and he closes his eyes, not wanting to see John's face. ]
Just... fuck off, Sheppard. [ It's barely a whisper, without force or energy. ]
(no subject)
Date: 2019-05-30 04:23 pm (UTC)All he could think about, selfishly, was his own broken heart.
John takes another step forward. Poe doesn't have a clear retreat. He lost that opportunity when he wouldn't let John go first. Now they're both stuck here in the same stupid dance they've been doing for weeks.]
No, you fuck off. You're the one who came to me. So we either hash this out like grown men, or you can run away like a freakin' baby and keep crying about it.
What is it? You tell me right goddamn now.
(no subject)
Date: 2019-05-30 05:30 pm (UTC)He should have gone to Finn. It would have been easier to confess it all to Finn. Why is he even here? Why can't he just be done with this man, why can't he just let John go?
God, he's not a commander. He's unfit, he can't even keep himself together, he can't lead for shit. He's been trying, he's been trying, but there's no one for him to lead, there's nothing but fights that aren't his. And this fight, this fight, with these corrupt gods surviving on kidnapped people they torture month by month as the better of two evils. He would kill the Null and the gods if he could.
He would make it hurt. ]
Fuck. [ He digs his hands into his hair and leans forward, quiet voice slowly climbing in volume, still crying. ]
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!
[ Poe rests his face on his knees and starts to sob. ]
(no subject)
Date: 2019-05-30 06:01 pm (UTC)All John does know is Poe needs someone, and he needs someone right here, right now.
Maybe he isn't the right guy for it, but at least he's someone.
John walks over to Poe and crouches on one knee down beside him. Contrary to popular belief, he doesn't want to lord over Poe, or make him feel any more like shit than he already does. John takes a deep breath. Steels himself.
Seeing Poe cry... No, he isn't going to think about himself right now. John can mull those feelings over later. Or, you know, push them down deep and ignore them.
He's such a hypocrite.]
Hey. C'mon. It's okay. Just... let it out. Better here than the battlefield.
[John reaches out with one hand, gently cupping Poe's shoulder. Offering silent support.
This has been a long time coming. Every man has their limits, and Poe has reached his.]
(no subject)
Date: 2019-05-30 06:32 pm (UTC)When he stops, it's because he's too tired to keep it up. For a few seconds he just stays with his face against his knees, just breathing. ]
Gotta stop doing this. [ It's only partially a joke. He aches when he remembers the other times John was there for him. Once when they were almost strangers. Once when Karen didn't understand anything, and John understood it all. ]
They took... [ He struggles for a second, then goes on. ] They scraped me out. [ It doesn't occur to him that he's using Finn's terminology. ] They took it all away, everything I was... everything. All the fear, all the anger, everything. Then they just dumped it all back into me and I don't know what to do with it.
[ He straightens up, staring at his hands. ] I want to kill them. If we didn't need them to get home, I would find a way.
(no subject)
Date: 2019-05-30 09:22 pm (UTC)So when took it all away, and threw it all back at you-- yeah, that's a lot for one man to take all at once. Probably drive most men crazy. No shit you're having a hard time.
[John doesn't know if he could've coped any better, if at all. There have been moments it seemed easier, faster, cleaner, after something big and bad just happens, to just end it all, then keep on keeping on with his worthless, miserable life.
His hand stays on Poe's shoulder. Squeezes.]
I know you do. You've got every right. I'd kill 'em for you, if I could.
[But he can't. All he can do is sit here and flap his gums, like any of it means anything. Words can't take Poe's pain away. John knows. There isn't a bandage for that kind of hurt. All you can do is wait for the scab to form, and hope you don't rub it raw again in the meantime.]
Sorry. I didn't know that's what you were going through. When that all happened. I was caught up in my own crap.
(no subject)
Date: 2019-05-31 02:36 am (UTC)No one knew. I think maybe Finn guessed. But no one knew.
[ Poe lets his head fall back to rest against the wall, staring up at the ceiling. His face is damp. He feels hot all over, that muggy kind of feeling that comes with crying hard for a long time.
He looks at John without moving, like somehow if he does move John will pull away. He's not ready for that. He doesn't want it. ]
I kept them. [ He presses his hand against his shirt, then reaches up to pull the tangle of chains hidden under his shirt into the light with the soft clinking of metal. John's dog tags, wound around the chain that holds his mother's ring.
He lets both drop against his chest, throat working as he tries to swallow (swallow nerves, swallow another wave of tears). ] I thought I'd never see you again.
(no subject)
Date: 2019-06-06 07:15 pm (UTC)[With every argument, John was becoming more and more convinced his dog-tags were in the trash somewhere. Why would Poe keep them? Guilt? John regrets putting that decision on him, especially at that ugly beautiful moment, but he wasn't thinking straight.
John had waited what felt like forever to hear Poe say "I love you". Of course it happened then, when they were both certain they wouldn't see each other again. Because almost as soon as John loves something, he loses it. Always.
Now it's his turn to struggle to swallow, looking away from Poe's eyes. Staring at the dog-tags. What do they mean? What does any of this mean?]
Didn't think you would. Didn't think I would see you again, either. So that's two things I got wrong.
[His eyes flit up to Poe's face, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards into a shadow of a smirk.]
See. I don't think I'm right all the time. Just most of the time.
(no subject)
Date: 2019-06-06 09:35 pm (UTC)Maybe there is no best thing to say. Maybe, with John, he'll always say the wrong thing. He's borderline terrified of saying anything at all.
He closes his fist around tags and ring. ]
I still mean.... I meant.... When I said what I said, I....
(no subject)
Date: 2019-06-09 12:46 am (UTC)His eyes are on Poe's eyes, searching for something, anything, to help decipher the meaning of that comment. John doesn't want to guess. He doesn't want to assume. He already learned that Poe Dameron is an impulsive, unpredictable man the hard way.
Instead of reacting, he keeps the same calm he would diffusing a bomb. His voice level, and his gaze steady, even as his heart kicks against his ribs and the sweat rolls down his back.]
Okay. So, what does that mean now?
(no subject)
Date: 2019-06-09 12:51 am (UTC)I don't-- [ Honest, he thinks. Just be honest. ] I don't know what you want it to mean. I don't know if you even want me to say it.
(no subject)
Date: 2019-06-09 01:26 am (UTC)Whether or not they can or should be together, and what that would look like, is something he's spent a significant amount of time trying not to think about.
Sometimes you love a person, but you don't mesh with in that way. That's life.
Except John can't seem to mesh with anyone, regardless of the relationship. He couldn't with his father and brother. Or his ex-wife. He couldn't even bring himself to try with Teyla, knowing it would probably go bad and ruin the team dynamic. John thought Poe was different, that maybe he would be the one, right when the idea of 'the one' was starting to sound more like fantasy than reality, but he was wrong.
John reached out, and Poe slapped him away. That hurt. Then he came back at John with a confession of his love when it was too late to matter. That hurt too.
As badly as John wants to hear Poe say that again, he's been twice bitten. Logic says he would be opening himself up to another world of hurt. This one worse than the last. What kind of idiot would take those odds?
The answer is this idiot.
Looking into Poe's eyes, so dark and wet John can almost see himself in them, he doesn't disbelieve him, but that's always been the problem. Poe means it in the moment, and John always believes him. Then the moment passes.
Poe's in a state right now, scared, vulnerable, more than a little screwed up, what wouldn't he say for human contact? This moment feels a lot like their first moment, when Poe was drunk and hurting, and John had to fight down his every mortal urge to put Poe to bed.
John takes a deep breath. Squeezes Poe's shoulder.]
What I don't want is for you to worry about that right now. Shelve it. Come back to it later when you're in a better state of mind. We've got bigger problems, and you need to worry about yourself first.
Nothing means anything if you die out there.
(no subject)
Date: 2019-06-09 02:14 am (UTC)We've got bigger problems, worry about yourself first, nothing means anything if--]
No.
[ He fingers the dog tags gently. He's so tired, and it hurts so much, and he can't let this go, not again. If he lets it go this time he's going to let it go forever. He knows that. If he lets it go this time, that's it. The hope for anything between them is gone. ] You know, back when you were sick, before we knew you were sick, I came to talk to you in the shuttle hangar. You don't remember it.
[ He can't look at John, but he doesn't stop talking. If he stops there's the chance he won't start again. ]
I wanted to tell you right then that I'd fucked up, that I wanted to give things another shot, that I'd run scared and you deserved better. You told me to stop pretending I cared. You told me I just wanted to make myself feel better, that the only thing I missed when I said I missed you, was someone following after me like a dog. That I got off on your rank.
[ He pushes off the floor, gathers himself and get to his feet. This isn't the kind of thing to say from the ground. ] How much of that was because you were sick?