[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?
[Then Poe starts talking. About the second time he was infected, which was even uglier than the first. The longer he talks, the worse it gets. John hurt a lot of people with his actions and his words, and he still hasn't forgiven himself for it. Some of it he remembers, and a lot of it he doesn't. Not that it matters.
What happened, happened, whether he remembered doing it or not. John thought he apologized for everything, but obviously he didn't. Poe's never brought this up before. Even after John asked.
Was he trying to spare his feelings, or...?
Poe stands and John follows. He doesn't want to be on the ground if Poe isn't, even though he's been thrown off-balance. This isn't the quiet acceptance he expected, or the violent outburst.
Now John's the one who wants to walk away. Because he's a coward and a hypocrite. His eyes dart towards the door, but he doesn't move. Can't. If he leaves right now, this, whatever this is, really will be over, and they'll both be back to square one. Hurt, pissed off, and confused.
Instead his fingers clench into fists, and he roots himself to the ground. It's only when they're standing chest to chest that he remembers how solid Poe is. John always liked that about him. Still does, even though he can't help feeling intimidated.]
Some of it. Not all of it.
[A pause, closing his eyes, clenching his teeth against a lie.]
[Poe is looking right at him, and it feels like the first time they've made real, genuine eye-contact since he arrived. John doesn't flinch away. Stands his ground, like Poe is standing his.
He's almost relieved. They've been walking, talking, and fighting around this the entire time John's been here, pushing it down and away, for another day, the right day, that will probably never come. There's never a right time.]
What I'd say now is different. I don't know if you'd like it any more or less, but if you really want to know... [And as much as John hates to be open about his own insecurities and fear--] I'll tell you.
[ Said quietly. His hand drops from the dog tags. He's not sure he'll be able to stand holding on to them, depending on what comes next. But this... whatever it is, it's been too long in coming, for them. It's been way too long in coming. ]
[A deep breath, arms folded across his chest. He exhales, rolls his shoulders, and rocks back on his heels. Poe will know it as his "I don't want to do this but I guess I'm doing it anyway" posture.]
I think you might like the idea of being together more than you like actually being together. That you only really... want me when you don't have me. That we'll get into something, and then you'll realize you made a mistake and change your mind.
[Because Poe will remember why he doesn't actually love John, and all of his many, many flaws, once he's back with him.
The corner of his mouth twitches. Now John can't look at Poe. He's staring somewhere past him, into the distance. Safer than the present moment.]
I don't know if you want to be with me, or you just don't want to feel guilty about not being with me, or if all this is because you're struggling here, and you're looking for a repeat of what we had in Riverview. Consciously or subconsciously.
[He rubs at one bicep through the sleeve of his uniform.]
I don't know if any of it matters, because we could die in this mess, or you could go home again-- no one knows what the hell is going on. So. There you have it.
[ He wishes any of it surprised him. He wishes he didn't understand why John would think it. But he does, he gets it, and every word sinks like a stone into him, adding weight to everything dragging him down.
He swallows, throat tight, and then says: ]
My turn.
[ He doesn't ask for permission. He doesn't wait for John to decide that maybe he doesn't want to hear what's going on from the other end. He doesn't wait to second-guess himself. He just starts talking. ]
I've missed you since I ran away. I've wanted to be with you since I realized what I lost. I knew it was my fault. I knew I had to prove to you that I deserved another chance. And you never let me do it. You've been punishing me for screwing things up ever since it happened. Every time I tried to... to explain, or to talk to you, you shut me down or shut me out.
You told me you didn't want anything to do with me, and then you busted in to a cave full of cultists and saved my life. And when I tried to talk to you after, it was like that never happened. Like it was an obligation. Like it didn't mean shit.
Then you tell me... what happened with Kylo Ren, and I thought--
[ He swallows, fists clenching and unclenching, instinct more than anger. But he is angry, isn't he? There's a part of him that is angry. He's been trying for so long, it feels like. He's wanted this for so long, and every time he gets close he gets punished for wanting it so much. ]
We might die, yeah. We might die, and maybe none of this will mean anything to anyone else, but it matters to us, it matters right now, and I--
[ He licks his lips, lifting his gaze to John's beautiful, beautiful eyes. ]
You act like there's ever going to be a good time for me to say I love you, but guess what, John. There's never going to be a good time. Never. So... [ Deep breath. Exhale. ] Do you want to take the chance to have something we can carry with us when we leave? I'm willing. I want to try. But you have to be willing to try too.
[ He can't stop himself from touching the spot on John's shirt where the tags would hang, brushing his thumb across fabric. ] Do you want me to say it, or do you want your tags back? Because... I think that's where we are.
[John isn't sure he wants to hear what Poe has to say, but it's not like he has any say in the matter, and... he's been avoiding this for so long. Too long. Instead of addressing their broken hearts, they ignored the damage and left them to fester.
And that's how they got here, to this ugly place, where the only options are to clean the wound or amputate the limb. John has to make a choice. There's no more delaying.
His heart can't take much more of this, and neither can Poe's. It's now or never.]
I...
[He swallows hard. Poe's anger burns hot and bright. He's always been a star to John. A beautiful, distant thing to wish admire and wish upon from afar. When they're this close, Poe's almost too much. John can feel the emotion radiating out from him, and it's so powerful he wants to flinch away.
Wants to, but doesn't. He owes Poe that much. Owes this, whatever this is.]
I wasn't punishing you. I was protecting myself. Because I never stopped wanting you, and it never stopped hurting.
When you said that, at the end, it was like losing you all over again in the same way. Like a goddamn curse.
[He looks away, chin tucked in towards his chest, his eyes fixed on a spot somewhere on the floor. There's a slight tremble to his lower lip when he speaks again.]
I want to try, but I don't know if I can take it, y'know?
[His voice keeps getting smaller, and more stilted. His throat thicker and tighter with emotion.]
You're stronger than I am, that way. In more than that way.
[ He's soft-voiced, now. He cups John's chin gently, lifts his face so they're looking each other in the face again.
Poe kisses him, gently, lips pressed to lips, the tip of his tongue brushing John's mouth.
He can smell the coffee and the soap this place supplies, and the undertone of John, sweat and gunmetal. He presses his forehead against the other man's, still gentle. ]
I just love you, John.
[ His free hand goes around John's waist, not tight, not possessive--John can move away and Poe won't stop him. ]
I love your spirit. I love your strength. I love how much you love, even if....
[ A pause, and he closes his eyes. ] Even when it scares you.
I love you. I want to try to do this, to do it right. I want every minute we can have.
[ He's so tired. Heart and soul. He left part of himself in Riverview, and he's not sure it ever came back, even when John showed up. His spirit had been amputated and cauterized, and the only thing that had happened in Hadriel was infection.
Maybe they will die here. Maybe it will stick this time. But maybe that would be okay, if they could do it together. ]
[Poe's saying everything John's ever wanted to hear, and he's scared of how badly he wants it to be true. How willing he is to overlook everything, all of the hurt, conflict, and the flashing, neon-bright signs from the universe itself saying that they shouldn't be together.
Except here they are again. Together. After everything. Two men from different universes, who found each other, lost each other, and defying all odds, found each other again.
With Poe's mouth against his mouth, and arm around his waist, it occurs to John that maybe the universe isn't trying to tell them to give up.
Maybe the universe is telling them to try again.
He pulls back to look at Poe's face. He looks older than he did a day ago, more tired, more raw, more beautiful, somehow, in spite of the wear and tear. War is hard. Grief is heavy. Command is thankless. Nothing gets easier.
Poe's right. There isn't a good time. There isn't enough time to keep waiting for that perfect moment that will never come.
John's eyes lock onto Poe's eyes, and for the first time in this conversation, he doesn't stop himself from losing himself in them. It feels like jumping out of a plane without a parachute.
Every pilot's dream.]
Okay. We can try.
[He lifts his hands to Poe's shoulders, then moves them to cup Poe's face.
Quietly, because he's a private man, and even when they're alone the air between them feels an audience.]
I... love you, too. Never stopped. Not even when I hated you. I always loved you more.
[ Poe sags, relief washing through him in a tidal wave. He's not sure what he would have done if John hadn't said some kind of yes. He has no idea. Fallen apart again, broken completely.
But here, instead, is something good. Something precious and breakable to hold on to in this awful place.
He rests his forehead against John's, closing his eyes, trying to swallow the knot constricting throat and voice. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
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
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
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
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?
no subject
[Then Poe starts talking. About the second time he was infected, which was even uglier than the first. The longer he talks, the worse it gets. John hurt a lot of people with his actions and his words, and he still hasn't forgiven himself for it. Some of it he remembers, and a lot of it he doesn't. Not that it matters.
What happened, happened, whether he remembered doing it or not. John thought he apologized for everything, but obviously he didn't. Poe's never brought this up before. Even after John asked.
Was he trying to spare his feelings, or...?
Poe stands and John follows. He doesn't want to be on the ground if Poe isn't, even though he's been thrown off-balance. This isn't the quiet acceptance he expected, or the violent outburst.
Now John's the one who wants to walk away. Because he's a coward and a hypocrite. His eyes dart towards the door, but he doesn't move. Can't. If he leaves right now, this, whatever this is, really will be over, and they'll both be back to square one. Hurt, pissed off, and confused.
Instead his fingers clench into fists, and he roots himself to the ground. It's only when they're standing chest to chest that he remembers how solid Poe is. John always liked that about him. Still does, even though he can't help feeling intimidated.]
Some of it. Not all of it.
[A pause, closing his eyes, clenching his teeth against a lie.]
Not most of it.
no subject
But he started this, and John said those things so long ago now. A year, almost. Almost a year exactly.
This time, he looks John in the face. This time he needs to see whether or not there's a point to all of this.]
How much of it would you mean if you said it now?
no subject
[Poe is looking right at him, and it feels like the first time they've made real, genuine eye-contact since he arrived. John doesn't flinch away. Stands his ground, like Poe is standing his.
He's almost relieved. They've been walking, talking, and fighting around this the entire time John's been here, pushing it down and away, for another day, the right day, that will probably never come. There's never a right time.]
What I'd say now is different. I don't know if you'd like it any more or less, but if you really want to know... [And as much as John hates to be open about his own insecurities and fear--] I'll tell you.
no subject
[ Said quietly. His hand drops from the dog tags. He's not sure he'll be able to stand holding on to them, depending on what comes next. But this... whatever it is, it's been too long in coming, for them. It's been way too long in coming. ]
So tell me.
no subject
[A deep breath, arms folded across his chest. He exhales, rolls his shoulders, and rocks back on his heels. Poe will know it as his "I don't want to do this but I guess I'm doing it anyway" posture.]
I think you might like the idea of being together more than you like actually being together. That you only really... want me when you don't have me. That we'll get into something, and then you'll realize you made a mistake and change your mind.
[Because Poe will remember why he doesn't actually love John, and all of his many, many flaws, once he's back with him.
The corner of his mouth twitches. Now John can't look at Poe. He's staring somewhere past him, into the distance. Safer than the present moment.]
I don't know if you want to be with me, or you just don't want to feel guilty about not being with me, or if all this is because you're struggling here, and you're looking for a repeat of what we had in Riverview. Consciously or subconsciously.
[He rubs at one bicep through the sleeve of his uniform.]
I don't know if any of it matters, because we could die in this mess, or you could go home again-- no one knows what the hell is going on. So. There you have it.
no subject
He swallows, throat tight, and then says: ]
My turn.
[ He doesn't ask for permission. He doesn't wait for John to decide that maybe he doesn't want to hear what's going on from the other end. He doesn't wait to second-guess himself. He just starts talking. ]
I've missed you since I ran away. I've wanted to be with you since I realized what I lost. I knew it was my fault. I knew I had to prove to you that I deserved another chance. And you never let me do it. You've been punishing me for screwing things up ever since it happened. Every time I tried to... to explain, or to talk to you, you shut me down or shut me out.
You told me you didn't want anything to do with me, and then you busted in to a cave full of cultists and saved my life. And when I tried to talk to you after, it was like that never happened. Like it was an obligation. Like it didn't mean shit.
Then you tell me... what happened with Kylo Ren, and I thought--
[ He swallows, fists clenching and unclenching, instinct more than anger. But he is angry, isn't he? There's a part of him that is angry. He's been trying for so long, it feels like. He's wanted this for so long, and every time he gets close he gets punished for wanting it so much. ]
We might die, yeah. We might die, and maybe none of this will mean anything to anyone else, but it matters to us, it matters right now, and I--
[ He licks his lips, lifting his gaze to John's beautiful, beautiful eyes. ]
You act like there's ever going to be a good time for me to say I love you, but guess what, John. There's never going to be a good time. Never. So... [ Deep breath. Exhale. ] Do you want to take the chance to have something we can carry with us when we leave? I'm willing. I want to try. But you have to be willing to try too.
[ He can't stop himself from touching the spot on John's shirt where the tags would hang, brushing his thumb across fabric. ] Do you want me to say it, or do you want your tags back? Because... I think that's where we are.
no subject
And that's how they got here, to this ugly place, where the only options are to clean the wound or amputate the limb. John has to make a choice. There's no more delaying.
His heart can't take much more of this, and neither can Poe's. It's now or never.]
I...
[He swallows hard. Poe's anger burns hot and bright. He's always been a star to John. A beautiful, distant thing to wish admire and wish upon from afar. When they're this close, Poe's almost too much. John can feel the emotion radiating out from him, and it's so powerful he wants to flinch away.
Wants to, but doesn't. He owes Poe that much. Owes this, whatever this is.]
I wasn't punishing you. I was protecting myself. Because I never stopped wanting you, and it never stopped hurting.
When you said that, at the end, it was like losing you all over again in the same way. Like a goddamn curse.
[He looks away, chin tucked in towards his chest, his eyes fixed on a spot somewhere on the floor. There's a slight tremble to his lower lip when he speaks again.]
I want to try, but I don't know if I can take it, y'know?
[His voice keeps getting smaller, and more stilted. His throat thicker and tighter with emotion.]
You're stronger than I am, that way. In more than that way.
no subject
[ He's soft-voiced, now. He cups John's chin gently, lifts his face so they're looking each other in the face again.
Poe kisses him, gently, lips pressed to lips, the tip of his tongue brushing John's mouth.
He can smell the coffee and the soap this place supplies, and the undertone of John, sweat and gunmetal. He presses his forehead against the other man's, still gentle. ]
I just love you, John.
[ His free hand goes around John's waist, not tight, not possessive--John can move away and Poe won't stop him. ]
I love your spirit. I love your strength. I love how much you love, even if....
[ A pause, and he closes his eyes. ] Even when it scares you.
I love you. I want to try to do this, to do it right. I want every minute we can have.
[ He's so tired. Heart and soul. He left part of himself in Riverview, and he's not sure it ever came back, even when John showed up. His spirit had been amputated and cauterized, and the only thing that had happened in Hadriel was infection.
Maybe they will die here. Maybe it will stick this time. But maybe that would be okay, if they could do it together. ]
no subject
Except here they are again. Together. After everything. Two men from different universes, who found each other, lost each other, and defying all odds, found each other again.
With Poe's mouth against his mouth, and arm around his waist, it occurs to John that maybe the universe isn't trying to tell them to give up.
Maybe the universe is telling them to try again.
He pulls back to look at Poe's face. He looks older than he did a day ago, more tired, more raw, more beautiful, somehow, in spite of the wear and tear. War is hard. Grief is heavy. Command is thankless. Nothing gets easier.
Poe's right. There isn't a good time. There isn't enough time to keep waiting for that perfect moment that will never come.
John's eyes lock onto Poe's eyes, and for the first time in this conversation, he doesn't stop himself from losing himself in them. It feels like jumping out of a plane without a parachute.
Every pilot's dream.]
Okay. We can try.
[He lifts his hands to Poe's shoulders, then moves them to cup Poe's face.
Quietly, because he's a private man, and even when they're alone the air between them feels an audience.]
I... love you, too. Never stopped. Not even when I hated you. I always loved you more.
no subject
But here, instead, is something good. Something precious and breakable to hold on to in this awful place.
He rests his forehead against John's, closing his eyes, trying to swallow the knot constricting throat and voice. ]
Thank you. I love you. Thank you.