[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. ]
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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.