Dejah Thoris (
dejah_thoris) wrote2015-06-09 05:49 pm
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Entry tags:
Prodigal
After a long day in the forge, and a long night of pacing the corridors of the bar looking for Curtis, Dejah had come back to her rooms and tried to work on the prostheses. She'd made significant progress, building the initial layer of isolates and imprinting the neurological signature she'd recorded the very first day onto the layer itself. It took an incredible amount of focus and when she was done, she lay her tools on her work bench. Bleary-eyed and exhausted, she made her way to the bed.
She didn't wake for many hours. Not even the recurring image of Curtis's shy smile melting into the leering grin of Matai Chang could manage to stir her from sleep. It was late in the day when she rolled over and peered at the window. The sun was going down. Or was it coming up? She couldn't tell.
She didn't wake for many hours. Not even the recurring image of Curtis's shy smile melting into the leering grin of Matai Chang could manage to stir her from sleep. It was late in the day when she rolled over and peered at the window. The sun was going down. Or was it coming up? She couldn't tell.
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And then lets out a tiny snort of laughter. "So now that we've both had our friends threaten to kill us if we fuck this up..."
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"I promise, I'll do my best not to fuck this up. Or let my friends fuck this up." Playful as her words are, there's also a solemnity there. "I just want us to be able to talk to one another. Even when we're -- not at our best."
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"I don't want to fuck this up either," he whispers, breath warm against her skin. "I'm not good at talking. I'll try."
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"That's all I ask. That you try."
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He presses another kiss to her shoulder, and pauses there. "Want me to stay up here tonight?"
God knows he wouldn't mind.
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She pulls back to steal another slow, hungry kiss. When it breaks, she has to look into his eyes, has to see what he's feeling.
"Can you -- I mean? If we did, could we -- just sleep?"
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"I can try that too." A beat, and the disappointment returns for a completely different reason. "Shit, I'll probably have to go check on Edgar at some point."
They just got through a jail sentence, and the kid didn't even want to be in separate cells for twenty-four hours.
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"Yes, it's probably best if we don't. For now, at least." She rests her brow against his, eyes closed, letting her breath come back to normal. "It's not that I don't want you. I do."
But she wants all the rest, too. And if she takes him into her bed without it, the cost will ultimately be far too high for her to pay.
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It sucks, but it isn't like they don't have the time. Milliways gives you nothing but time.
Curtis tips his head back to kiss her forehead. "Another night."
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"Ten thousand nights," she whispers, folding him into another hug. It gives her just enough time to wipe her eyes and hope he doesn't hear her sniffle.
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Instead, Curtis hugs her back, tightly, hoping the gesture can transmit a sentiment he rarely feels comfortable saying aloud: It's going to be okay.
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She holds onto him for a long quiet moment, and when the hug finally breaks, she pulls back enough to put some air between them. Her hands catch his, still holding onto him. As if she's afraid, if she lets go, he'll disappear in a puff of smoke.
"You'll ask Edgar about visiting the meadow?"
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"And I'll let Tars know, about the rest." She grins up at him. "I am terrible at goodbyes."
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"Well," he says, "you know where to find me." Beat. "Kinda literally with that necklace now."
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"Yes, well. I won't abuse the privilege, I promise. Now, go. Before I completely lose my mind."
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Curtis grabs one more kiss before pulling away from Dejah. "Okay. I'll see you later. Have a good rest of the night."
Hauling himself off the couch, he grabs his coat; by now, it takes hardly any effort to shrug it on one-handed.
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"I'm impressed," he says, as serenely as possible. "Anyway, um."
Curtis isn't too great at good-byes, either; he waves, a bit awkward.
"Bye."
And he's out the door before he can talk himself into staying just a little longer.
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Always have to do things the hard way, don't you?