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
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. ]