mylegacy | ic inbox / drift fleet

[Being shoved into the shelf is enough to break Joseph's momentum. The pain of steel shelves on his back and the back of his head is enough to break through the cloud of his anger. He grapples first at Caesar's wrists first, expecting one or both to let him go to start swinging back. But Caesar doesn't make any motion that would indicate he's going to let go and start punching. Instead, he just shakes Joseph. Joseph falls back heavy against the shelf with a grunt and lets go of one of Caesar's wrists in favor of bunching his hand up in the front of his shirt.]

[At first, he's just trying to keep Caesar back. Just far enough that he can't really hit or start shaking him again, trying to give himself the space to catch his breath if he can. He keeps his head leaned forward and sees a droplet or two of blood from his nose hit the floor. Joseph looks up at Caesar through his bangs, watching him. Adrenaline sends a small tremor through him, releasing some of the tension as he straightens again, and starts to both pull and allow Caesar in closer again.]

[It's not an abrupt shift. It rarely is, for Caesar. Grief and anger are deep grooves worn in him, and it's easy for him to fall from one to the other with the barest push. Now, with Joseph allowing him close, pulling him by the front of his shirt, he falls gracelessly into grief again - grief but not regret, because he didn't know how to explain it before and he still doesn't.]

[He isn't shoving Joseph anymore. Just looking at him with hurt written openly across his face and no idea how to conceal it.]

Don't make a joke of me, [he manages eventually, and has to deliberately look away from Joseph for a moment, because it would be easy, so easy, to close the distance between them and just kiss him to prove the point, he's not a joke, this is serious, and it hurts.]

I wasn't making--

[It's a childish defense and Joseph knows it. Only little kids say they didn't do something they did once they've got the consequences looking them in the eye, kicking up an overwhelming amount of guilt. But to some extent, it isn't a complete lie. Joseph didn't mean to make a joke out of things. Not like that. Certainly not in any way that was supposed to hurt Caesar.]

[Joseph sighs.]

You are such a fucking idiot sometimes, you know that? [He pulls Caesar to him, wrapping his arms around him tight.] You're always doing this. You expect me to know exactly what's going on in that head of yours and get pissed when I don't get it right. But I can't fix something I don't know about, Caesar.

I didn't know I was pissing you off [hurting you] this much [at all], okay?

[He thought Caesar was just playing along, or only getting the usual amounts of riled up. He didn't realize he was bothering him that much. Never mind that he doesn't understand how or why what he was saying was bothering Caesar that much. Part of Joseph wants to ask, just to make it so Caesar has to lay his cards out on the table and get straight answers out of him. But he thinks he's done enough damage for one day, and pushing Caesar into actually talking is probably just going to erupt into yet another fight. How else could it go when Caesar's this protective of whatever the hell is going through his head?]

I'm sorry.

[He's not expecting Joseph to pull him close. Maybe he should be. That's the point, after all, isn't it, of keeping quiet about this: that things won't change, that he'll be able to get and give the same comfort he's used to. It's not selfless at all. He just doesn't want things to change.]

[He freezes when Joseph wraps his arms around him, stock-still and startled for a moment, although his chin rests automatically on Joseph's shoulder, his gaze falling to the floor. Slowly, he relaxes, wraps his arms loosely around Joseph's waist, feeling the beginnings of guilt crop up in him, too, not for getting upset but for hurting Joseph as badly as he did.]

It's just not funny.

[His voice is quiet, then muffled on the last word as he presses his face into Joseph's shoulder. This is so stupid. He wants to get off this ship, right now.]

[Joseph isn't thinking about it as much as he has in the past when it comes to trying to comfort Caesar. He knows there's still room for error and he could still make a mistake. But he's been timid enough about it in the past to know at least a few things Caesar likes and doesn't like. He likes it when Joseph is close to him like this, so he holds him. He holds him until he relaxes and loosely holds back. He holds him through and beyond that.]

[When he feels Caesar press his face into his shoulder, a hand comes up to start stroking his hair.]

I know. I'm sorry. I won't joke about it again.

[He doesn't say he promises explicitly, but it's there in the firmness of his tone. Joseph doesn't want to hurt Caesar over anything ever again. He knows that's technically impossible. Even if Joseph weren't as clumsy and as prone to putting his foot in his mouth as he is, he'd end up hurting Caesar somehow anyway because that's just what happens between two people sometimes. But the last time he really hurt Caesar (still without meaning to), he lost him. So he means it when he says he won't joke about it again.]

[He never actually meant to teach Joseph how to do this - how to tone down his natural boisterousness and give him comfort. He never meant to ask for comfort at all. But things are different here in the Fleet; he's got too much space to think and not enough ways to cope with all the things he's thinking about. Joseph holds him and he thinks about a thousand things all at once until his head's spinning, until they all coalesce into one thing, which is Joseph, who in moments like these is everything.]

Okay.

[It's a vulnerable kind of thing to say, to give Joseph that trust. But he believes that it's something worth doing, that Joseph deserves it, no matter how many times he's fucked up in the past. Joseph deserves a hundred second chances.]

[He blinks slowly, his eyes unfocused on the engine room behind Joseph's shoulder; his fingers grip a little too tightly to the back of his shirt.]

I love you, you know. You're a good friend.

[He almost cracks a joke. It's a natural impulse for Joseph to start making light of what just happened so no one has to feel bad about it. They can just acknowledge they were stupid for fighting and move on. That's what they're supposed to do, right? Instinctively, that's what he feels even if he's not sure to what part he's responding to that says now is a good time to put distance between them. He is fractionally a little more tense than he was just a few seconds ago, too. It's tempting to break whatever this is by pulling back in any way he can.]

[But the fingers in the back of his shirt seem to be silently telling him, not yet and asking him, stay. So he doesn't fall back into what should be a usual pattern for them. It doesn't matter what made Joseph feel like he needs that space because it's not about what he needs. (Besides, he can figure it out later if it's still bothering him.) He stays. Joseph stays with Caesar because he needs him to.]

I love you, too, Caesar. [Joseph holds him just a little tighter and lets himself smile some.] You're my best friend. I'm glad you're here with me.

[Joseph doesn't do so well on his own, after all, even though he'd probably be just fine in terms of making friends. It's something that comes very easily and naturally to him. But there's no one else he trusts more or that he'd rather be with than Caesar. He won't say it out loud right now, but... He's grateful. To have this second chance with Caesar. To have more time. Silently, he promises himself and Caesar to find a way to bring Caesar home. No matter how long it takes or how many things and people try to stop him, he'll find a way. What else is a good friend supposed to do if not that?]

[Well. And that's it, isn't it. That's what he wants. Not all he wants, but good enough. It's a thousand times better like this, when they're not talking about things that edge too close to secrets, to things that Caesar doesn't want anyone to know, much less Joseph. This is easier. This is a safe space they've created for themselves, where he panics and Joseph, somehow, knows what to do.]

[Joseph holds him tighter, and his fingers loosen slightly in his shirt. He turns his head into the crook of Joseph's neck and just breathes for a few moments, eyes closing, just being here. This is what he wants.]

[When he pulls away, it's with a smile and a light squeeze on Joseph's upper arm, something reassuring, even though it isn't Joseph who needs reassurance at all.]

Thank you. [A beat.] Not for being an asshole. For the other thing.

[For all the other things.]

[Joseph grins crookedly, quietly relieved.]

Yeah, yeah, yeah...

[Joseph rolls his eyes as he wipes his upper lip and nose with the back of his hand. He isn't bleeding too badly at least, but he still starts pinching his nose. He looks down at the floor for a moment, a few tools on the floor, but all he does is toe them with his boot and shove them underneath the shelf before looking back up at Caesar. The fingers of his free hand twitch to reach out and see how tender those bruises on his face are, but he keeps his hands to himself. He sighs.]

I got you pretty good, huh? [Joseph turns him around before throwing an arm around his neck and leading him up out of the engine.] C'mon. We've got some ice in the kitchen. I don't want to hear you bitching later about how I bruised your face and it's all swollen, and blah, blah, blah.

[Maybe he senses that Joseph's thinking about reaching out, maybe he was going to anyway, but when Joseph's fingers twitch he reaches up to experimentally test his bruises. He only winces a little. They're not so bad - he's had worse. And he doesn't regret this, not the way he's come to regret so many things since coming to the Fleet.]

[Joseph's arm comes around his neck, and he ducks his head instinctively, looking at his shoes for a moment as he walks.]

It doesn't matter. I'll still be better-looking than you no matter how much you beat my face in.

[Joseph scoffs at that notion almost before Caesar can even finish his sentence. As punishment, he tightens his hold on Caesar just a little and makes him have to duck down a little lower from Joseph's weight.]

Bullshit. I'm pretty sure everyone's trying to figure out what you've got on your face for at least ten minutes before they realize it's your actual face. Besides, [he leans closer,] you'll never have sexy lips like these, Caesar.

I'm sorry, but there's really no competition.

[Welp.]

[He shoves Joseph away by his face with both hands about one second before he completely panics. He's honestly not sure what he was about to do, hit him or kiss him, but either one would really be equally awful at this point.]

When have your sexy lips actually gotten you anywhere?

[He is literally going to have an aneurysm.]

[Joseph lets himself be pushed away with a laugh, letting go to take the lead ahead of Caesar down the hall, although he turns around and walks backwards to keep facing him.]

They've gotten me plenty. I'm just not like you and don't feel the need to brag about it.

. . . Mmhm.

[He watches Joseph for a moment, his thumbs hooked in his pockets. This is an obvious lie, and he can't decide if that makes it more or less annoying. After some consideration, he takes a few swift strides and pushes Joseph in the chest with both hands, not quite smiling.]

[He stumbles backwards, but easily catches his balance. He's still grinning crookedly at Caesar and in a way it seems like he doesn't know how to stop. And maybe he doesn't. There's echoes of old times here and now. A fight that wears itself out until they fall into this steady rhythm of back-and-forth with a little roughhousing.]

[It feels good. So incredibly good.]

Hey! I'm about to give you medical attention out of the goodness of my heart. Don't go shoving me around or maybe I'll change my mind. [Joseph comes to an early halt just outside the door leading to the crew quarters, looking at it for a moment before looking at Caesar again.] Actually, you go on ahead. I'll catch up with you in a minute.

[He looks worried for a second, unsure if he's done something wrong again, if Joseph is changing his mind. He opens his mouth to ask are you angry?, but - Joseph says he's going to catch up, and Caesar has to trust him.]

[So he nods, and goes on ahead, not looking back.]

[Joseph catches that worried look and thinks maybe he needs to reassure Caesar, which seems like such a weird thing to have to do. Caesar just isn't the type who needs a whole lot of reassuring in general, but definitely not over something like this. But he nods and continues on towards the kitchen, so Joseph just chalks it up to still maybe being a little raw from their fight. He watches Caesar go for a few seconds before disappearing into the quarters. It's only a minute or two before Joseph joins him in the kitchen, but he turns up with essentially a large shoebox.]

[Whereas with most things Joseph is not the least bit delicate with, he's actually careful in setting this box down on the kitchen table instead of just tossing it down.]

You know, when I was talking with Ino, she said you mentioned Superman to her and tried explaining comic books. I knew you didn't know what you were talking about, but I didn't think you were that off the mark.

[Caesar's settled himself at the kitchen table by the time Joseph shows up again, perched on the edge of the table rather than in one of the chairs, braced against the floor on the balls of his feet. He looks up maybe a little too quickly when Joseph comes into the room; then his eyes settle on the shoebox that's set down next to him, and he looks briefly puzzled until Joseph says Superman.]

. . . You were talking to Ino? [A beat, and then he remembers what started this whole stupid argument in the first place.] About the little faces.

[Joseph heads over the freezer, grabbing a towel. He starts scooping out some ice and puts it in the center of the towel, tying it off after a few handfuls.]

They're called emotes, Caesar. [Jeez.] And we talked about more than just emotes.

[He returns next to Caesar's side and puts the makeshift icepack to his face. Gently. He doesn't feel like getting punched again, thanks.]

Anyway, [he pops off the top to the shoebox with his free hand and, sure enough, it's filled nearly to the brim with comic books. Not all of them are in plastic, but quite a number of them are. And Joseph's actually organized them alphabetically by series.] Some of these aren't as good as the ones back home, but they're not bad. I've read a couple five or six times already.

[He winces a little at the ice on his face, but presses his lips together and doesn't say anything. He's a little too busy staring at Joseph, anyway. Like this is all very exciting for you, he's sure, but what is the point.]

. . . Good for you? [DO YOU WANT A MEDAL.]

[BITCH, HE MIGHT.]

[Joseph rolls his eyes like friendship with Caesar is the realest struggle.]

That means I can make good recommendations. Unless you'd rather take your chances and hope you don't find one with bugs in it.

[Caesar pauses for a second, takes the ice to hold it himself. Then, very slowly, he starts to grin.]

Oh, you think I'm reading those, do you?

[Joseph's expression turns immediately suspicious at that grin on Caesar's face. He lets go of the ice and lets Caesar hold it for himself.]

I don't think, [HA] I know.

[No, buddy. You super don't.]

How do you know that?

Because you'll either read it yourself or I'll read it to you.

[So. There.]

ic inbox / drift fleet

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