anothercontinuity | Red vs Blue pt 2

Interesting. What was he not saying?

"Hm. Perhaps we're a good compliment for each other, then." Darkness and brightness. Heaviness and light. Bitter sharp against sweet and sparking. Blood tells all, in the end. They couldn't be more different, despite the things they did in fact hold in common.

Time would tell if that was a good thing. Regardless, he was almost smirking at York now.

Things he did not expect: That smirk. Also Delta apparently being able to reach out in the neural lace and focus enough to share his fluster and attraction over the bond he shares with Locus-

Along with his own digital mint wash of cool smugness at someone finally getting York to fluster. It doesn't happen often.

"That's pretty fortunate, huh? What are the odds?"

"It depends. The circumstances for turning someone can be unpredictable in scope."

Oh he feels it, thank you Delta. How strange it is, too. Being able to do that is something he tries for often. He doesn't have to. But feeling York's fluttering attraction across their bond is pleasant, and reassuring in a sense.

"It is, however, fortunate. At least I believe it to be."

"I'm glad it worked out for us, at least. Not just because I get to live and live as a kickass vampire." The tradeoff of social life and sunlight for living harder, better, faster, stronger is one he's willing to make. Hell he'd taken it just for the chance to keep living and the promise someone he'd always be around.

That he's connected to.

And attracted to.

Yeah this isn't gonna get awkward at all. "Always been more lucky than good, me."

"That's an extraordinary amount of luck, then."

Sounding vaguely amused, Locus leaves his chair again, this time to start peeling out of his club clothes once again. He intends to get comfortable before sunrise. York is free to pursue what he likes until dawn.

"So you're saying I'm pretty damn good? Aw." Right. Changing should be a thing- as. Soon as he remembers where his 'not club' shit is and he stops oogling the hell out of Sam's back.

Because god and damn.

Shirt. Right. Focus, York, focus. He peels out of his shirt and roots around in the bags they'd grabbed earlier in the evening till he finds a soft cotton shirt and some drawstring pants. It's no grifball T but he'd given that up a long time ago.

Once comfortable pants have been achieved for all, Locus waits a moment to draw on a shirt, moving instead to pick up a brush for a few cursory tugs through his hair. Best to do it now, before tying it up and out of the way for a day's sleep.

"Everything fits and is to your liking?" There's a brief glance over his shoulder.

That does get his attention- he'd been with people that had long hair enough to know that tending to it can be a pain but- a few tugs isn't gonna be enough.

And he'd liked touching it before.

"Um- yeah. It's all perfect." A beat. "Can I-"

He extends a hand to Locus, wiggling his fingers. "I can help, with your hair."

His hand pauses mid-pass, his brow furrowing for a brief moment of contemplation, before he draws the brush free and turns to hand it back to him. "If you like."

He's quickly learning that when Taylor asks him for something, it's somewhat difficult to find a reason to tell him 'no'.

"Thanks." Like he's being allowed more than just helping Locus out with a chore- and he is. It is and it isn't wanting to be useful. It is and it isn't wanting to serve-

He wants to touch and this is an acceptable(ish) way to get that need fulfilled.

Careful as anything he drags his fingers through Locus' hair, segmenting it before starting at the tip and working his way to the roots. He's never had long hair himself but a few of his girlfriends would let him do this for them and it's always...it's settling, in a weird way.

Locus is still, throughout. It feels...strangely pleasant, the steady stroke of his hands, the care he takes, even the sound of the brush moving through his hair. Things he doesn't often notice when he does it himself, because he's preoccupied with getting it done and over with.

York doesn't appear to be in the same hurry. His pace is a steady, lulling thing, and Locus finds his shoulders going a little lax.

Lulling for both of them- the repetitive stroking, the silken glide of hair through his fingers? Being trusted with this? Quiets that small, needy part of him in the back of his mind. That thing he's trying to stomp down every time Locus smirks because even if they are bound and bonded-

He's not sure how deep into the scene this guy has been.

he's not sure if there's even a scene now that he can get into safely.

But little things like this? He can do.

Each stroke, and he can feel the faint tug against his scalp. But York is gentle, so very gentle, and it's easy to simply focus on the feel of it. The various sensations and sounds.

"You've done this before."

"I dated a few girls, and one guy, with long hair in my misspent youth. They'd always bitch about how much of a chore it'd be and I loved taking care of it for them because it was something I could do that was nice, showed that I cared, and then I'd get to play with hair. And if they were feeling nice sometimes they'd play with mine afterward." Give and take and mostly give on his end because he has plenty to give-

And takes whatever he's offered back gladly. "I could never grow mine out. I tried but it just looked kind of sad."

"Mm. Perhaps for the best. Shorter hair suits you."

And he'd cut his off, once upon a time, but this appeared to be the style that suited him best. Perhaps it was fitting, now. Regardless, it had given them this opportunity.

'Showed that he cared' indeed.

He finishes with a few long strokes from crown to tip, setting the brush aside to braid it quickly. "This'll keep it from tangling in your sleep."

Also- fun to have his hands in hair for a little bit longer.

There's just a noise of acknowledgement as he waits, patiently allowing York to continue his work. Nothing wrong with being dedicated to doing something correctly.

"Often a concern." He peers back, as much as he really can while not disturbing his work. "Depending on how restful that sleep is."

"...I kind of passed out hardcore because, um. Dying and changing and all of that so I guess this'll be my first real night of 'sleeping'." He ties off the braid with all the care he'd given everything else and sits back, hands dropping down to his lap. "Is it like passing out or...is it different from human sleep?"

"It is sleep like any other," Locus answers, finally turning back towards him. "You could stay awake if you liked, but it would eventually take a toll on you. Just as if you were living."

Sleeping is just the most efficient way to pass the day, as it happens.

"So this isn't gonna be a magical cure for my insomnia." Which is probably only going to get worse now that he can think about as fast as Delta about everything that can, has, could, and probably will, go wrong in the future.

Oh how fucking fun.

Helpful as ever, Delta opens the door to York's quiet anxiety- not like it isn't visible on his face but- reassurance, please.

"No."

A frown tugs at his mouth before he reaches a hand out. Carefully, those fingers sink into his hair, combing through the short strands. York had already mentioned how he felt it was calming. No reason not to return the favor now, when he seemed to need it.

"But if you need help, I can assist. In my own way."

Most of the tension eases with that. One stroke through his hair and his shoulders are drooping, two has his weight tipping into Locus' hand. It's- grounding. As much as brushing Locus' had been earlier. "Really? Because I'd appreciate that. I don't generally sleep unless I'm too tired to function and exhausted beyond my capacity to stay awake, or I'm drunk. And one of those options isn't available anymore."

So any help Locus can offer? He'll take and take gladly.

"We could run laps until you tire yourself out," he suggests, with an air that says he's not entirely serious but it is possible. No. There are other ways to tire him out and settle his mind. He knows them well.

As it is, this seems to be working to calm him, for the moment, so Locus does not stop. He even allows his nails to curl slightly, to offer York's scalp a mild scratching while he's at it.

"I have no idea if that'd be safe-" Just considering how much or little time they've got left till don and how much energy he feels like he's got left but- Locus is teasing and that's a little bit of a comfort. Just as much as the nails in his hair, the warm burr of his voice.

"What've you got in mind?" Vampire magic? His presence and contact?

"...come lie down with me."

Some combination of the two, actually. Close proximity and touch couldn't hurt, as far as bridging that connection with warm, soothing thoughts. At least until one of them fell asleep.

Dropping his hand, Locus moved towards the bed. Still hadn't retrieved a shirt, either.

Red vs Blue pt 2

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