mylegacy | ic inbox ( ruby city )

[Joseph's laugh sends a prickle of fear down his spine, uncertain as he is just for a second whether he's being laughed at. But on second thought, that concern just seems stupid. If Joseph were going to make fun of him, he'd do it outright. And anyway — last time he was worried about that, Joseph just seemed hurt by the implication.]

[It's pretty clear a moment later, when Joseph just barely pulls away, that he's not being laughed at. He can feel his cheeks heating up under Joseph's touch, which is stupidly, almost ridiculously gentle. It's sweet and intimate, and he almost hates it because of how kind it is. That kindness throws him off-balance.]

[Not that he knew what he was doing anyway. It's easy when he initiates things, but that's not what this was. Just because he kissed Joseph first doesn't mean he actually started anything, and he definitely doesn't know how to proceed. He's acutely aware of the fact that he just kissed his best friend, who is very much not a girl, and even if he could make himself stop thinking about it, the way Joseph looks right now wouldn't let him forget.]

[He looks from Joseph's mouth to his eyes and then, all of a sudden, at the cabinet just past Joseph's head, which is fucking fascinating right now.]

You'd be pissed if I used a move like that.

[It's complaining just to complain. He feels wrong-footed, but he can't bring himself to move away, hands coming to rest and clinging to the fabric of Joseph's shirt.]

Mm, I should've . . . asked. [Or something? Help.]

[Well, it's obvious and somewhat predictable that Caesar is trying to pretend really hard like he's not blushing. But while Joseph's willing to leave it be — teasing him about it might make him push Joseph away and all Joseph wants right now is to be close to him — he can't ignore it himself. It's... Fuck, it's really cute and Joseph can only grin crookedly about it to avoid saying so out loud. He feels like he's floating at this point though, so it's impossible for him to 100% filter himself.]

I liked that you didn't.

You.

[He what?]

[He — oh.]

[God fuck shit damn he's gonna die. He presses his lips together in a tight frown for a moment, staring at the floor, which guess what? Is also fascinating.]

[Dying.]

Oh.

[GOD]

Good, then. [aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah]

[Holy shit. Holy shit, holy shit. Hoooolyyyy shit. Joseph is almost not even sure that this is really happening right now. He's never seen Caesar be shy, not even for a second. Even when he's trying to put the moves on a girl, he's not shy for show. Not laughing was difficult before, but it's starting to become impossible now.]

[Just to give himself something else to do other than laugh, he kisses Caesar's forehead.]

Mmhm.

[Yeah, he can tell Joseph's struggling not to laugh at him. On the one hand, fuck you. On the other hand, can he actually blame him? This is ridiculous. He feels ridiculous. Joseph's kissing his forehead and he wants to sink into the floor and disappear.]

[Instead he leans in and rests his forehead against Joseph's cheek, hoping that not feeling himself being looked at will make him feel less . . . this.]

Shut up.

[Since he's compelled to say it, or something. Then, more softly:]

I don't know what to do now. I want to do that again, but I don't know if I should until I have a better answer than "maybe".

[He wants to do it again, too. He'd be okay if that was all they managed to do for the rest of the day. That's his first instinct.]

[But instinct isn't always the best thing to listen to in every situation and he thinks perhaps especially in this one. If he'd been listening purely to instinct, this probably would have become a mess quickly after all. So, that leaves Joseph to try and find a balance between what he wants and what will be best for the both of them right now. He's never been all that particularly good in not indulging though, so it's a hard thing for him to do and he's quiet for a long moment before he starts running his fingers through Caesar's hair again.]

I can't really tell you what's right because I'm not really sure myself, but it's okay if you need time to think, Caesar. And it's okay if you take what you want right now or whenever.

[That seems the best compromise, doesn't it? He told Caesar that nothing needed to be decided right this second and he meant it, but he can understand the pressure because he's been carrying its inverse for a month now. So, maybe it makes it easier for Caesar to give the blanket permission that he's allowed to have what he wants if he wants it. That doesn't mean he has to if he thinks that might complicate things or make it more difficult for him to figure out, but it's there much in the way that Joseph always is whenever Caesar needs him.]

[It's almost impossible to think when Joseph's holding him like this. There are fingers in his hair, and he wants to just melt into that touch, stay here forever and never move again. This is the safest he's felt in forever, maybe since before he can remember. It feels right to be here. It feels like this is where he's supposed to be.]

[But he doesn't know what that means. He knows it's new, but he doesn't know what it is, or if he should follow feeling or logic or something else entirely. It would be a lot easier if Joseph just told him what he should do, but he understands — mostly — why that's a bad idea.]

[This is just tiring, thinking about it. He sighs, wraps his arms around Joseph's middle and shrugs a little.]

I want you. I know I want you. But if that's . . . I don't know, if you want that then . . .

[He's mumbling against Joseph's shoulder now, reluctant, words coming slow.]

I want to know what you want, too . . .

[It's funny in that not-actually-funny sort of way how Caesar retreats further into Joseph's hold and against him the more uncertain he gets. He's not really sure when he became an anchor for Caesar like this. He's used to it by now, relying on Caesar to catch him before he can fall, but he's not all that used to the reverse being true.]

I want you, too, [he admits so easily that it's almost a sharp contrast to the way Caesar's speaking into Joseph's shoulder.] I want you and I want you to be happy, Caesar.

. . . Oh.

[Somehow, that's less embarrassing and overwhelming than the rest of this has been. Which is backwards. It doesn't make sense. But it's another thing that just seems right to him, another thing that fits into the world as it should be.]

[He pulls back a little and looks at Joseph again, really looks at him, and he knows what he was thinking before was right. I want that — he does, he wants Joseph to be his, and even if that's not the same as love, or if he doesn't know for a while, maybe that's okay.]

It would make me happy if you kissed me.

[Very little of this has been all that simple, not from Joseph's perspective. He's had to carefully consider how to tell Caesar, when to tell him. He's had to think about the potential consequences beyond just the context of their friendship. Really, the only simple thing of it was knowing what he feels. And it's knowing that without a doubt that helped Joseph get through the other parts. Or rather still getting through the other parts since this is far from resolved.]

[So maybe that's Caesar's simple part. Maybe the simple part to him is knowing exactly what he wants and not having to question the motivation behind it. Maybe having that part, knowing it, will help Caesar figure the rest out when he's ready.]

[One thing Joseph thinks for certain though is that he doesn't need to worry about what might come after this. Caesar, no matter what, is going to be there. Wherever he lands, whatever he decides, Joseph doesn't have to worry about him just evaporating and disappearing like he was never there. He doesn't think Caesar would or could do something that would ultimately devastate Joseph, but he thinks what Caesar wants will certainly keep him there in the long-run, too.]

[Joseph smiles.]

Funny, [he says, placing only a quick peck to Caesar's lips at first.] Me, too.

[And that's all he's willing to spare before he really kisses Caesar this time, hand falling out of his hair again in favor of holding his cheek, fingers lightly curled.]

[He is, very sincerely, about to complain for a moment there. That is not at all what he was talking about when he said kiss, for one thing. For another thing, he didn't give Joseph permission to be a smartass about this, or cute, or whatever he's being. He said kiss me, and that's what he meant.]

[And he's almost ready to say as much, but then he doesn't have to, after all.]

[Joseph's kissing him, really kissing him, and he has to brace himself with one hand back against the counter because for one thing, he was right. This is what he wants. The way he wants it, too, it feels like he's wanted it for a long time, which would be alarming if he wasn't so fine with it. For another thing, he doesn't want to have to focus on standing upright — not when he can just let himself melt as close to Joseph as possible, lean up against him and kiss him like nothing else in the world exists, just for a few minutes. Or the rest of the day.]

[It smells like sunflowers. His fingers curl at the small of Joseph's back; their noses brush together; he takes a moment to just breathe, to register how good Joseph smells, and then he's kissing him again, insistently trying to get closer than close.]

[He likes it a lot more than he thought he would. Which seems like an incredible feat because Joseph was pretty sure kissing Caesar senseless was going to be one of the more incredible things he's ever done, but it somehow manages to push right past all of those expectations to go above and beyond. He likes all the little waves Caesar gives and gives in from the way he presses against Joseph to the way he can only seem to take a second, maybe two, before he has to kiss Joseph again.]

[Joseph feels like his heart is going a million miles an hour, and for once, it's not in a bad way. It's not nerves. Right now, Joseph's got a feeling similar to just waking up from a good nap when you're still wrapped up in blankets and don't have anywhere to be or anything to do until you're damn well ready. Only better. All of this is just better. So much better. He never knew being wanted like this could feel this good or make him this happy, but maybe he just never realized how important it was to have the right person.]

[He bends down a little, breaking off the kiss for a moment and getting a hold on the back of Caesar's thighs to lift him up and set him on the counter since he's leaning on it anyway. It puts them on a little more even height and Joseph finds changes their kisses in little ways that Joseph's pretty sure he'd overlook if he wasn't paying attention to it. He leaves one hand on Caesar's knee, as the other comes to rest on Caesar's chest before kissing him again.]

[For a second he doesn't understand what's happening. He doesn't, not even a little bit; it's disorienting enough to be moving up instead of down, to be shorter instead of taller. He hadn't even considered the possibility of being moved. It just hadn't occurred to him.]

[So Joseph picks him up, just picks him up, and his mind completely stops. Shuts down, quits, refuses to process this for a few moments, because there's a difference between wanting and needing, and if he thinks about this too hard he'll realize how much he needs that to happen again, always, forever.]

[He doesn't even realize what he's doing until it's too late, until his ankles are hooked around the back of Joseph's thighs and he's got a hand in his hair and a hand tracing his spine under his shirt, and he is absolutely in no way going to stop now. That's — that, he wants that, he wants Joseph to do that, but only to him.]

Jojo, you—

[And then he just swears under his breath and bites Joseph's lip and kisses him, helpless and wordless.]

[Joseph wasn't entirely sure what was going to follow after that you, but he supposes almost immediately that it doesn't really matter because Caesar bites his lip and then he's kissing Joseph again like that's the only thing in the world that matters. Maybe it is. Joseph's willing to let it be the only thing that matters if that's how things are. After all, who is he to disagree with something like that?]

[They've touched so much since Joseph came to the city. So many countless times they've held onto each other in some form or fashion, trying to be as close to each other as the other will allow, as they dare. Joseph doesn't think that every time was for the sake of security and safety. Sometimes it was simply to be close to one another. But now, in some ways, it feels like they can't get close enough. Joseph leans in closer as they kiss, his hand on Caesar's knee moving up along his thigh to rest at his waist. It's all new places to touch because even as it seemed like they'd touched all there was to touch, there were still some things neither one of them had dared to before now. Joseph hums softly as his hand leaves Caesar's chest to run his fingers along the slope of Caesar's neck and the jut of his collarbone peaking out from the collar of his shirt. He wants to memorize it. He wants to memorize every inch of Caesar's body, the way it feels under his fingertips. It's not because he's fearful he won't get another chance, but he wants something to remember when they're not this close to each other. Because that part — separating again — is simply inevitable sooner or later. Hopefully later. Much later.]

[He jumps a little when Joseph's hand slides up to rest at his waist. Nothing about this should be surprising, at least not overall, because it's just kissing and touching, but — but everything's surprising him. He breathes in sharply at fingers brushing against his collarbone, eyes opening wide as he pulls away, just a little.]

[Except it's not pulling away to create space, or to make distance, or in any way to stop. He just . . . he thinks it's a good idea, what Joseph's doing, to learn like that. And maybe he has to stop for a moment to catch his breath, and maybe he spends that moment staring at Joseph's mouth again, but Joseph said he can take what he wants. And that's what he wants.]

[On impulse, he digs his heels in and pulls Joseph closer, tipping his chin up to give him more room. Not far enough that he can't look, though, because looking is part of what he wants. Touching is the other part, and he loosens his fingers in Joseph's hair to trace the shell of his ear, the line of his jaw. He ends up with his thumb tracing back and forth across Joseph's lower lip, mesmerized and torn between wanting to kiss him again and just wanting to look.]

[He makes a soft noise, feeling helpless all over again, and leans in to press a quick, light kiss to the corner of Joseph's mouth, next to his thumb.]

You smell good.

[—and then that, also, apparently.]

[This is so different from the way Caesar normally is. It's not that Caesar has such a tight control over himself that he never relaxes — though it is admittedly very rare to get him to relax all the way without a lot of effort going into it — but he always, always has a filter. He doesn't think about and choose what he's going to say before he says it, but he doesn't let everything that comes to mind slip out. That's more Joseph's thing.]

[And yet here he is, stammering at times and saying whatever comes to mind off the cuff instead of investing thought into whether or not it's okay to say it in the first place. Joseph can't keep the grin off his face even as he turns his head a little to kiss the pad of Caesar's thumb.]

Do I?

. . . Mmhm.

[He can't even mind the grin, not really. He should, but he can't. It's another thing he wants, he's pretty sure, for Joseph to grin like that at him, because of him, like this but also everywhere, all the time. He does mind that Joseph turns his head a little, and chases after him, cupping his jaw and kissing the corner of his mouth again.]

I don't know what it is, you just . . .

[And now he can't move away, somehow, stuck where he is mumbling against the corner of Joseph's mouth. He feels possessive and off-balance at the same time, a slight crease between his eyebrows as he tries to find words.]

You just do, [is where he lands in the end, and turns his head so he can kiss Joseph properly, soft and slow and thorough. Halfway through he realizes what he's actually said and feels a little mortified, but it's too late to take it back now.]

[Joseph doesn't make fun of Caesar for talking like that even though he could, and maybe it'd be a little predictable if he did. But he doesn't feel like it right now. He just feels like letting Caesar be because letting Caesar be means kisses like this where he feels like Caesar might be trying to steal his breath away. And he's more than happy to give it to him. He'd be willing to give the world to Caesar right now if he asked for it, if it was something he really wanted.]

You do, too, [he murmurs between the soft and slow kisses in a sigh. And he does.]

[While stealing Caesar's scarf has not been intentional, it's never been an unpleasant surprise once Joseph's realized what he's done. Because he's always been able to indulge in burying his face into it under the guise of protecting his face against the cold and inhaling the clean scent Caesar carries around all the time. Never would he have thought he'd find that smell so attractive and so pleasant, but in the mornings, he finds himself a little closer to the pillows Caesar slept on the night before. Especially if Caesar just got up and his heat is still there, making the bed feel a little less empty until Joseph can fall back to sleep.]

[Oh. Somehow he wasn't expecting that, either. He really should've — Joseph spends so much of his time just burying his nose in his hair, and that, at least, he's noticed. But it's such a strange thing to hear Joseph say. Is it strange like that for Joseph to hear it from him?]

[He's thinking all of this, but only distantly. It's hard to contemplate theoreticals when Joseph sounds like that, words coming out on a soft exhale. It makes him pause, readjust, cupping Joseph's face in both hands and petting his cheeks with his thumbs. He has to feel this out, he knows, because it's not . . . it's not like it was before. Not just because it's Joseph and not a girl, but . . .]

[He's not even thinking about the fact that he's dead and Joseph's alive, or how this isn't fair to other people. None of that. What he's thinking is that he feels right now as though this is the closest to feeling good, really honestly good, that he has in over a decade. Wanting someone and being wanted back, that kind of — of evenness, not having to be in charge of everything, he didn't know it would feel like this. And even if he wanted to, he couldn't get his feet back under him by doing any of the things he usually does, because Joseph would know and — and stop him, somehow, just look at him and stop him with a smile alone, probably.]

[He wonders how long Joseph's been in love with him. He wonders how long before that Joseph wanted him. Is there a difference, for Joseph? Is that why he was so angry that first day at the restaurant? Is it crazy, to think it goes that far back? But he doesn't know himself if he wanted something like that, doesn't know for sure that he didn't. That fight, it wasn't like this, but he just . . .]

[He wanted Joseph to pay attention to him. And Joseph wanted that, too. He remembers.]

[Thinking about it like that, it's a little too much. He shivers and leans up for another kiss, letting his hand slip down to rest at Joseph's waist, fingers tightening in the hem of his shirt.]

You taste good, too. Jojo. [My Jojo, he thinks, and he knows he doesn't have the right to say it out loud yet. But it still feels true.]

[It's subtle, but the way Caesar keeps saying his name, it's different from all the other ways and times that Caesar's said it before. It's a little more possessive, a little less willing to share. Or maybe Joseph's just noticing it now that he knows Caesar wants him, too. He said it the other night, didn't he? That he had been so frustrated when he first came here and Joseph wasn't because he was stuck with all these people who weren't him, and he hated them for it.]

[But then Joseph finally arrived and he had the Jojo he knows here. He didn't have to be angry anymore that Joseph hadn't followed him and he didn't have to be worried about the possibility of facing a Joseph who'd gotten old and changed. He had something — someone familiar to fall back onto and feel secure with.]

[So maybe some of that possessiveness had been there for a while now, but it's more pronounced and Joseph finds he likes it. He doesn't have or offer up any resistance to it with the way he leans into each of Caesar's kisses and touches from his hands. There are far worse things he could be than Caesar's.]

S'that why you keep kissing me? [he practically slurs because words are far more complicated right now than just kissing Caesar. So, it's only after saying that that Joseph's attention is back to kissing Caesar. Kisses begin to stray from Caesar's lips, however, sometimes finding themselves only at the corner of them or on his chin and jaw.]

No.

[That comes out first, quick and easy, even if a little breathless. He chases after Joseph's kisses at first, automatically, letting out a soft sound of loss at the first one that moves away from his lips. It takes him far too long to realize what's going on, embarrassingly long. Later he'll look back on it and realize how desperate he was (like he's been since Joseph got here) not to be left alone again, even in the smallest way. For now, when he understands, he just frowns and bites his lip and leans his head against Joseph's, needing to feel him there, close.]

[Thinking is hard right now. Articulating his thoughts is even harder. But he feels compelled to try, in part because Joseph asked him and in part because he just plain wants to know. He wants a lot right now, more every second, and for once he's not questioning whether he deserves it. That's the gift Joseph's given him, that permission to just want.]

[He wants to figure out the words for whatever it is that he's feeling now, that thing that's one step behind love. He slips his fingers under Joseph's shirt and breathes out slowly at the warmth of skin stretched over muscle. It feels good.]

[. . . Yeah. He smiles crookedly at nothing.]

I keep kissing you because you make me feel good. And I want you to feel good, too.

[And that's the first time since Joseph said his true feelings that he begins to feel a little shy at hearing that, and he can feel his face starting to warm. He can't even begin to say why that out of all the things Caesar's said is what gets to him, but it does. No, that's not quite right. Joseph knows that between the two of them, Caesar's the one with more experience regardless when it comes to making other people feel good. So that maybe there isn't such a stark contrast as he thought there would be...well, that's good to know. Really good to know.]

[Joseph shivers a little at the fingers on his bare skin as he places a kiss just above Caesar's pulse, grazing gently with his teeth. Caesar's pulse... There'd been a lot of times at the beginning when Joseph was just fascinated with the fact that Caesar was breathing. He'd watch carefully, subtly, for every rise and fall of Caesar's chest, reach out to him just to be sure that his skin still felt warm. Now, he doesn't worry about that stuff nearly as much because he's solid and he's real. There's no denying that he's alive. Here.]

[It's still not fair. Joseph doesn't want to think about it, but it does come to him unbidden that it's not fair that he's only alive here and not back home. Joseph's not really worried about where this will all lead or how long it will last, but it's not fair that it's only here. It's just not fair and he doesn't think Caesar feels the same way because he's had plenty of time to accept it, to accept that he's...gone. But Joseph doesn't want to accept it. He doesn't know how to accept it. He wants to hold onto the belief that just because he's willful that maybe he can rewrite history, change Caesar's fate, but he can't do something like that, can he?]

[No, he can't. The most he can hope is that whenever it's time to go back — and there will come a time, he knows that even as much as he might pretend like it's otherwise — that he'll remember all of this. Is that selfish? It probably is, but Joseph doesn't care. He's never cared about being selfish. He wants what he wants and that's all there is to it. And he wants this. He wants Caesar.]

[Joseph's kisses beneath Caesar's jaw slow to a stop before he moves back close to Caesar's lips, just a hair's breadth away from another kiss.]

I always feel good when I'm with you.

[Maybe that's what it is. Or part of it, anyway — that desperation that lingers under every move he's making right now, every step, it comes from somewhere. It comes from knowing that in the end, there's some measure of futility to this. In some ways it's hopeless. Whether he loves Joseph or not, this won't last. Joseph will go back someday, and he won't. Which means, for all he knows, every kiss could be the last one.]

[He's not good at middle grounds, casual attachments. He either cuts himself off entirely or falls hard and fast and forever. The trouble with this is that forever isn't a possibility. The life he wanted, back when life was something he had, the family he hoped for — it was supposed to be with someone like Suzie, not Joseph. And now, even if he was able to choose, his choice doesn't matter. He's dead. Dead is dead.]

[And even despite all that, he doesn't stop. Even if he weren't already in love, he'd be falling. Joseph's lips and teeth are against his throat, and he bites his lip and moves gently towards him, gently, unconsciously, desperately. Always desperately. This is the first time, probably, that he's wanted to be alive since he died. But wanting doesn't make it so.]

Then . . . just stay with me.

["Just", like it's easy. He blinks at Joseph and spreads his hand, so his fingers are splayed across Joseph's stomach.]

You will, won't you?

[Forever, except not forever. His hand rises and falls; he blinks again.]

I can feel you breathing.

[Joseph doesn't answer Caesar right away. He just kisses him again instead because he can, because there's almost this magnetic pull between the two of them and that sense of inevitability that doesn't feel quite so terrifying because Caesar is warm and safety and home. Home. Joseph desperately wants to believe, but he can't make himself cross that line. He hates that feeling of futility. Probably not as much as Caesar does because if there's one thing that he equates to worthlessness, it's futility. But Joseph feels it because he's used to everything coming easy to him. It doesn't matter what it is, everything comes to him almost naturally as soon as he decides it's what he wants. He'd nearly gone his whole life not having to fight for a damn thing.]

[By the time he breaks off the kiss with Caesar, his breathing is a little more ragged with greedier pulls of air.]

I promised you I would, [he breathes.] I won't leave you behind, Caesar.

[It's a dangerous promise to make. Maybe even an impossible one. Definitely not one that he should make. But he's drunk on the taste of Caesar's skin and kisses and lost on the feeling of wanting and being wanted that he can't see it that way. He can't look at the line he's coming close to crossing into beyond, the promise that's beneath the ones he's already made to stay at Caesar's side, to always be his friend through everything.]

[If he was still standing, this kiss would knock him down. As it is, he's safe. Safer than safe, pulled up on the counter with Joseph in front of him, Joseph tangled up in his legs, Joseph whose lips are hot and insistent against his. He squeezes his eyes shut and kisses back as well as he can, trying to muffle hungry, demanding noises against Joseph's mouth, hoping he won't mention them because he doesn't . . .]

[He doesn't want to think. He just wants to feel, he wants to want, he can't love anything or anyone right now because he's too scared but he can sense the edges of it, the beginnings, or some wicked mimic, and he wants that, too. Whatever this is, he wants it.]

[He doesn't want it to leave him behind.]

[And he gasps in the space between them, devastated in a stupid way for just a second when they're not kissing, and then he's going red and his hand's curving around until it spans the space between his hip and his stomach. My Jojo, he thinks, and leans in for another quick, rough kiss, one that ends too soon just so he can say what he needs to say.]

I trust you.

[Which is not I love you. But for him, it's close. And the thing that follows after — after months of saying go away, with his words and his actions — it's almost the same thing, too.]

Come here.

[He bites back I need you and says it with the spread of his fingers instead, tracing the line of Joseph's hip. Add that to the list of things he wants.]

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