Haha, seriously, though. That'd have been such a stupid idea... ( Half-muttered as Jonas tries simultaneously to grab the container of food while staring at a hidden little smile he didn't think he'd see for the rest of the night.
He pats metal until he finds nothing, then embarrassedly turns his head away to assist himself in being less cringe. )
Here, ( he says, handing the container and chopsticks over with a quiet chuckle—well, it's a fucking giddy little girl giggle, so not exactly—of his own. He slides himself on his ass down the wing, gaining momentum until he can make the leap of faith down into the sand below.
It cushions him, making his descent shockingly quiet. Good, they don't want to wake the whole camp up, even if they're on the outskirts of it. )
[ Jonas turns his head away and it feels like, if he allows invasive thoughts to convince him of his own desires, that he's being given permission for something. His gaze lowers, focusing on a loose shirt that nevertheless shows the dips and curves of a solid torso when Jonas twists. Inviting. His arms would slot around him nicely right now, convince both of them that they're real in this moment and no other. That there aren't other worlds to return to, one a void of endless torture and the other a suffocating life of duties and pre-destined choices. Here they could be something else to each other, a fantasy like so many others he's lost himself to while locked away in regal halls.
Incorrect. An imposter. More interested in courting tender feelings than showing up as something stalwart and emotionless. Charmed by stupid hobbies, by banned sweets, by boys.
Now just one boy.
Jonas moves before he's even realized it, pushing himself up with a drape of that jacket over his arm, food in hand. ]
You sure? Drop me and I'll kick your ass. [ It'd be easy for him to jump down. So easy. And yet he lowers himself into a sit on that wing, inched towards its edge for Jonas to ease him down. ]
Please don't kick my ass, ( he says nonchalantly as Noctis scoots toward the edge.
It'll be like helping Alex around, something he's done countless times as her sidekick, except Noctis doesn't need it. His leg must hurt, though, so he's particularly gentle when he encourages a small waist the rest of the way forward.
As it turns out, he's underestimated Noctis. He didn't think he did, and was even careful not to; however, it's clear—from the muscular sides held by his hands—that Noctis is a far harder worker than he ever gave him credit for... and after hugging him so tightly, feeling his skin and hair under his fingers, this adds a level of anticipation to the hold. His palms are hot as his body sheds its excess heat through his extremities, and he swears he's begun to sweat despite the chill.
Raising him off the wing, Jonas realizes it's going to be difficult to explain why he stopped Noctis from descending for seconds longer than he should've. The dismount is far quicker, refusing to make eye contact until they're both on the ground, on even footing, and inches away. Pulling his friend in while he lowered him only made sense; he couldn't keep his arms out straight while lifting at least one hundred pounds of man. They're face to face as a result, and for three electrifying heartbeats, Jonas' olive eyes flick up to make contact with Noctis'.
One. Two. Three—
Let go. Let go.
He doesn't. Momentarily, his grip squeezes instead, an autonomous reaction to touching such a fine figure when what little restraint he had was stripped as quickly as the coat hanging from Noctis' forearm. )
You okay? ( A rushed question to cover for his own excitement, glancing away. ) Sorry, I... I thought you were gonna slip. I...
It's one thing to be hauled around by Gladio or held onto by Prompto, roughhousing with men he's known almost his entire life and trusted as his brothers for just as long. It's another to have hands touch him so carefully, boxing him in against sides which have tensed with anticipatory anxiety for something so small. It would be easier to ignore if warmth didn't sink into his hips and crawl up his torso from large hands that linger far too long before carefully lifting him with impressive strength and easing him down like he's something breakable.
He doesn't even realize those palms are still settled over his body until that grip tightens, locked as he is in another trap laid by pretty hazel eyes.
It's another perfect moment, just like they'd experienced minutes ago on top of that ship, tangled up in comforting each other and making the mistake of letting each other know with that seeking look. Here it is again, only it isn't comfort he sees in Jonas's expression. Curiosity, maybe. Appreciation, the kind that prompts a question he refuses to ask. ]
Jonas? [ Instead his name comes out of his mouth, an immediate regret but it spilled forth so easily and readily that there was no stopping it. A hard blink breaks the trance, finally registering what he's said. ]
Yeah.
[ The answer is as rushed as Jonas's query, turning away with equal speed and with a sidestep around his friend. ]
–the kicking your ass thing was just a joke. You really think I'm that easy to rough up, huh? Come on, it's freezing.
( His name almost sounds like permission—questioning, but acquiescing, as though Noctis is asking him why he's not leaning in.
It'd be easy; they're two or three inches from each other, and his head is slightly inclined to peer down into Noctis' face. In the breadth of a moment, he could brush his lips against Noctis', press in with a sway forward, and make the night perfect. )
Yeah. No, I mean. I—You're tough, I get it. ( His hands feel cold at his sides as his friend skirts him, intent on the interior of the ship. Jonas doesn't know if that's where he should go, at least not for a minute, ducking his head to hide his disappointment in himself.
Withdrawing a hand-rolled cigarette Cain got from V as a gift to him, he sets it against his lower lip. )
I'll be right in, I so badly need a smoke—idiot me, stubbing the one from earlier out. There's, like, a bunch of snacks and stuff in there, so get comfy.
[ Verbal flubs assail his senses and not for the first time, he wonders why Jonas can't be a better actor. It'd make it easier for him to convince himself that the tension in the moment is the kind he himself has fabricated in some kind of post-crying delusion. ]
You sure?
[ His question doesn't help, and fingers lift to rub against the back of his neck like it might ease away the oppressiveness lingering in the air. Or perhaps his own frustration with himself for leaving that door open too long. ]
Take your time, I'll see if I can find the coffee. I've got my tools anyway, so... I'll do what I can. [ His tone might be more even than Jonas's but the word choice betrays him, unsure and awkward. Nevertheless he keeps to his word, and by the time Jonas joins him inside that are two hot tins of coffee waiting.
The conversation mellows, food untouched, and after a few shared jokes about the day and the persistence of that mood, that unspoken expectation, he's not sure which of them suggests they go their separate ways first. Either way, it's easier, and even though he leaves Jonas's ship the boy himself stays on his mind the entire walk back to his tent and well into the night. ]
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no subject
He pats metal until he finds nothing, then embarrassedly turns his head away to assist himself in being less cringe. )
Here, ( he says, handing the container and chopsticks over with a quiet chuckle—well, it's a fucking giddy little girl giggle, so not exactly—of his own. He slides himself on his ass down the wing, gaining momentum until he can make the leap of faith down into the sand below.
It cushions him, making his descent shockingly quiet. Good, they don't want to wake the whole camp up, even if they're on the outskirts of it. )
Alright. C'mon, I can help you down.
( Holds his hands up. Come to meeeeeeeee )
no subject
Incorrect. An imposter. More interested in courting tender feelings than showing up as something stalwart and emotionless. Charmed by stupid hobbies, by banned sweets, by boys.
Now just one boy.
Jonas moves before he's even realized it, pushing himself up with a drape of that jacket over his arm, food in hand. ]
You sure? Drop me and I'll kick your ass. [ It'd be easy for him to jump down. So easy. And yet he lowers himself into a sit on that wing, inched towards its edge for Jonas to ease him down. ]
no subject
It'll be like helping Alex around, something he's done countless times as her sidekick, except Noctis doesn't need it. His leg must hurt, though, so he's particularly gentle when he encourages a small waist the rest of the way forward.
As it turns out, he's underestimated Noctis. He didn't think he did, and was even careful not to; however, it's clear—from the muscular sides held by his hands—that Noctis is a far harder worker than he ever gave him credit for... and after hugging him so tightly, feeling his skin and hair under his fingers, this adds a level of anticipation to the hold. His palms are hot as his body sheds its excess heat through his extremities, and he swears he's begun to sweat despite the chill.
Raising him off the wing, Jonas realizes it's going to be difficult to explain why he stopped Noctis from descending for seconds longer than he should've. The dismount is far quicker, refusing to make eye contact until they're both on the ground, on even footing, and inches away. Pulling his friend in while he lowered him only made sense; he couldn't keep his arms out straight while lifting at least one hundred pounds of man. They're face to face as a result, and for three electrifying heartbeats, Jonas' olive eyes flick up to make contact with Noctis'.
One. Two. Three—
Let go. Let go.
He doesn't. Momentarily, his grip squeezes instead, an autonomous reaction to touching such a fine figure when what little restraint he had was stripped as quickly as the coat hanging from Noctis' forearm. )
You okay? ( A rushed question to cover for his own excitement, glancing away. ) Sorry, I... I thought you were gonna slip. I...
no subject
It's one thing to be hauled around by Gladio or held onto by Prompto, roughhousing with men he's known almost his entire life and trusted as his brothers for just as long. It's another to have hands touch him so carefully, boxing him in against sides which have tensed with anticipatory anxiety for something so small. It would be easier to ignore if warmth didn't sink into his hips and crawl up his torso from large hands that linger far too long before carefully lifting him with impressive strength and easing him down like he's something breakable.
He doesn't even realize those palms are still settled over his body until that grip tightens, locked as he is in another trap laid by pretty hazel eyes.
It's another perfect moment, just like they'd experienced minutes ago on top of that ship, tangled up in comforting each other and making the mistake of letting each other know with that seeking look. Here it is again, only it isn't comfort he sees in Jonas's expression. Curiosity, maybe. Appreciation, the kind that prompts a question he refuses to ask. ]
Jonas? [ Instead his name comes out of his mouth, an immediate regret but it spilled forth so easily and readily that there was no stopping it. A hard blink breaks the trance, finally registering what he's said. ]
Yeah.
[ The answer is as rushed as Jonas's query, turning away with equal speed and with a sidestep around his friend. ]
–the kicking your ass thing was just a joke. You really think I'm that easy to rough up, huh? Come on, it's freezing.
no subject
It'd be easy; they're two or three inches from each other, and his head is slightly inclined to peer down into Noctis' face. In the breadth of a moment, he could brush his lips against Noctis', press in with a sway forward, and make the night perfect. )
Yeah. No, I mean. I—You're tough, I get it. ( His hands feel cold at his sides as his friend skirts him, intent on the interior of the ship. Jonas doesn't know if that's where he should go, at least not for a minute, ducking his head to hide his disappointment in himself.
Withdrawing a hand-rolled cigarette Cain got from V as a gift to him, he sets it against his lower lip. )
I'll be right in, I so badly need a smoke—idiot me, stubbing the one from earlier out. There's, like, a bunch of snacks and stuff in there, so get comfy.
no subject
You sure?
[ His question doesn't help, and fingers lift to rub against the back of his neck like it might ease away the oppressiveness lingering in the air. Or perhaps his own frustration with himself for leaving that door open too long. ]
Take your time, I'll see if I can find the coffee. I've got my tools anyway, so... I'll do what I can. [ His tone might be more even than Jonas's but the word choice betrays him, unsure and awkward. Nevertheless he keeps to his word, and by the time Jonas joins him inside that are two hot tins of coffee waiting.
The conversation mellows, food untouched, and after a few shared jokes about the day and the persistence of that mood, that unspoken expectation, he's not sure which of them suggests they go their separate ways first. Either way, it's easier, and even though he leaves Jonas's ship the boy himself stays on his mind the entire walk back to his tent and well into the night. ]