IT'S YOUR DESTINY!!!

[nopunchline]

Who: Anyone, everyone? Aoba and Declan to start.
What: Destiny
When: After the House of Wolves, before The Taken King.
Where: Earth, The Last City, The Tower and beyond.
Warnings: Could be sorta zombie stuff (Hive), could be xenophilia? I dunno. Gen warnings, yo.

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Earth. 700 years into the future, humanity is all but gone, huddled in a massive city in the mountains, surrounded by gargantuan walls and living in the shadow of the slumbering, perhaps dead, body of The Traveler. The massive being of benevolence and light that came to Earth bearing gifts of knowledge that would bring about the longest Golden Age in Terran history, hovering in geostationary orbit over The Last City of men, protecting what is left from The Darkness beyond with the remains of it's Light.

For those on Earth it is a well-known story. With The Traveler's dying breath it created Ghosts, fragments of living Light that in turn resurrected men and women across the galaxy, bringing to bear the Guardians, warriors to fight the Darkness. Earth and all the nearby planets are populated by humans, the Awoken, Exos and a variety of species of ever more distant origins, some less generous than others. The Guardians make their headquarters in a colossal spire at the edge of The Last City. There, in the Tower, the Vanguard and other factions of humanity work together to hold the line and fight the Darkness and every other threat to the known universe. The little understood Guardians rarely venture beyond the Tower, preferring the company of their brothers and sisters in arms, but all look to the Tower as a beacon of hope.

There is danger and adventure to be had; the likelihood of death and the possibility of rebirth. The future is uncertain, but all who walk in the Light know the Darkness is coming, and the wise life to the fullest.

[ Destiny Wiki ]

Comments

[nopunchline]

Pale eyes looked up, full lips curling in a tired smile and nod of acknowledgment. He'd been reading, going through the book, gazing curiously at the occasional illustrations and photographs. He was drifting in and out, head bobbing, eyelids drooping. He tried rousing himself, taking one of the other books to read, but eventually he slipped, knowing the area was safe, patrolled by other Guardians, and comfortable in the company he kept. Before long, Declan was tilted slightly to one side, eyes closed, lips slightly parted. Hair covered most of his face and he clung to his propped up rifle with one looped arm, the other hand hugging the book to his chest.

He didn't sleep terribly long, maybe thirty minutes, before he jerked awake with a soft snort and sat up, looking around worriedly.

"Was I out long? I'm sorry. I'll go look through the archives too. The Speaker gave me a keypass for some classified documents the last time I came here. I'll see if it still works. I completely forgot."

[scrappyblue]

Hadn’t Declan said Guardians didn’t really need to sleep? It left Aoba wondering what might change that, for Declan to be so visibly tired. Though Aoba dutifully did his best to read some of his own book, he either wasn’t a very good reader or it just wasn’t particularly well-written, reading like summaries of various stories than actual engaging tellings of them. Maybe if he asked Ren and Ghost to search sections a bit more fictional than historical…. Except all he really did was watch Declan doze, wondering at the dichotomy of it. The book suited him better than the rifle. Aoba could just imagine him in one of those stereotypical fancy studies, in a big plush chair by a crackling fireplace, a thin pair of reading glasses perched on his nose. Declan probably didn’t need glasses at all, but it completed the imagery. This gentle giant of his deserved all the peacetime and books to read that he wanted. He’s not the least bit ours, thanks, came the grousing reminder. Declan startled awake not long after that, prompting Aoba to rouse a puzzled look from his own undeserved daydreams. “Classified documents? Why would we need to get into those?”

[nopunchline]

If Declan were more eloquent, he may have explained the not needing sleep in regards to health restrictions. It was simply that Guardians could run themselves to death if necessary. It didn't mean they didn't get tired. Only that per their general immortality, they didn't strictly need it.

Fortunately Aoba was spared that grim topic.

"Well," he murmured, pressing the heels of his hands into both eyes with a groan. "I was thinking, maybe your Chosen Ones going all over the universe and time and space were trying to keep it fairly quiet? Or the study of the phenomenon was kept under wraps because places like Clovis Bray and the like would try to manipulate the knowledge and use it themselves. There's lots of reasons it could potentially be in there. It's worth checking, if I can."

[scrappyblue]

Definitely one of those things that made perfect sense once Declan explained his thoughts…and gave Aoba another degree of reason to be so grateful for the Guardian’s help. The ideas were all his. The resources were all his. Aoba himself had been—pretty useless in all regards. It was weeks later and he’d probably still just be stumbling around at random portals if he’d been left to his own devices.

“Alright, I get it. Good idea,” he nodded. “And if you’re going to do that, I’ll check in with Ren. I can’t let you do all the work on my behalf!”

But he was—lighthearted, saying even that. He didn’t feel like a burden or inconvenience or anything like that anymore. He just wanted to contribute equally to the team he imagined they’d become.

[nopunchline]

"That'll help, spreading it out a little between us. Ghost can scan through things incredibly fast, but there's almost all of human knowledge in this place. Granted some of the data is corrupted and irretrievable, but it's still more than we could find anywhere else. The only people that might have more information are The Nine, and...we don't really know anything about them. I don't think I have the kind of money necessary to get that information," Declan mused, eyes sliding skyward for a moment as he calculated.

"I might. I haven't bought anything in a long time from Xur. I'll ask him about it when we get to the Reef, if we don't find what we're looking for here. The Sovs might have something, too. There's plenty of options still," the Titan stated, reassuring himself as much as Aoba.

A little while later and the lot of them were all pouring over ancient texts, files, scrolls; anything they could find with any measure of possible help. Declan even went over the details about a stone tablet he found in a case in the restricted section. His pass still worked - evidently the Speaker trusted him not to do anything untoward - and he came away with a few mentions of people capable of "traversing time and space by force of will alone", but nothing concrete. No mention of Chosen Ones. There was a Mighty One, and he brought that reference back to Aoba, holding out a heavy book, whose pages were actually thin gold tablets etched with writing that looked more like the wiring paths ona circuit board.

"Does 'Mighty One' ring any bells? This book says there was a portal-walker like you wa~y way back. Before you were born I think. Last known recorded CE 1994. Seems he was a time and space traveler. Encountered an agent of the Darkness long before we ever knew about it."

[scrappyblue]

Whatever strange writing it might have been, just as all other languages that were put in front of him, Aoba understood it as intuitively as his native Japanese. It was such a strange thing, maybe because it was so unobtrusive. Declan didn’t know Japanese, but somehow, they conversed. Aoba didn’t even rightly know what language either of them were speaking. He couldn’t have taught any of them to properly read the languages in front of him, either, because it wasn’t like he suddenly knew the alphabet or the grammar or anything like that. When the whole was in front of him, he simply could read it. “Doesn’t sound like anything I know,” Aoba answered at first, running his fingers along the odd writing. “It does stand out that the title is so similar, though. Hm. Let me think….” The Guide’s message. What had it all said? Shock did a lot of messing with one’s ability to process information at the time, and it had been weeks now since Aoba had heard it. “…I suppose there’s a chance he’s a Chosen One that just called himself that instead. There’s supposed to be all kinds of Chosen Ones, or at least, that’s what the Guide’s message implied. Originally there was only one, to combat some kind of evil, but that evil is defeated now. Instead there’s this paradox where instead of one Chosen for the mission, there’s countless Chosen for no mission at all.” It was too much of a leap to think that the Darkness was the same evil the “real” Chosen had to face—and wouldn’t it already be defeated if that were the case? Or could that kind of thing still be in the future somehow, despite Aoba being a paradox Chosen One now? Ugh, time travel.

[nopunchline]

"Well, it's the best we have so far. I'll have Ghost copy everything from this and any related texts. Aside from that, he hasn't found anything and neither have I. Did you find anything?" he asked, carefully closing the massive book, holding it up for a moment before Ghost teleported it back to where they found it.

A couple more hours of searching yielded nothing additional, and the massive load of information Ghost collected would take him time to parse through. So far as Declan could see, they had exhausted their options at the academy.

"There's another place I'll check tomorrow when we're out exploring. It's a long shot, but best to use all avenues. Anyways, you ready to head back?" he asked, pointing to a few stacks of books that Ghost scanned the titles of, syncing with the academy digital archives to download copies of the literature. Mostly Japanese history, a few things about cooking, and a book about birds. He liked the pictures, having gotten distracted looking up cockatoos.

When they headed out, Declan stopped on a hill looking out towards the coast, pausing for them both to watch the skyline.

"You know a single day to night and back on Venus takes 5,832 hours? It's the strangest thing to think about how time is always the same, but the events occurring in it vary so dramatically," the Titan mused while looking over his shoulder at Aoba for a moment, glance more meaningful than intended. He made some unintelligible noise before he started the Sparrow up again and sped back to the ship. Once inside, he peeled all his armor off in a hurry, turning the temperature in the ship down to cool his sweaty body. The jungle temperatures and humidity were the worst. Beautiful as the planet was, Declan much preferred cooler places. He very much disliked feeling sticky.

"I need a shower...I probably smell like canned ham," he muttered, sniffing himself dubiously while plucking at the thin fabric of his underarmor.

[scrappyblue]

Well…no wonder the sky hadn’t seemed to change at all despite the number of hours that had passed. Ren broke it down for Aoba a little more than that, too: a Venusian day was actually longer than a Venusian year, due to its planetary rotation compared to its revolution around the sun. More things to make Aoba’s head hurt. To his credit though, his head hurt because he understood it enough to appreciate how complicated it all really was, even if the actual permutations of complexity itself got a bit overwhelming.

Once they were back at the ship, Declan’s complaints gave Aoba a moment’s pause as he considered himself in return. He didn’t have twelve hours patrol grime built up on him, but the jungle heat had hardly treated him more kindly.

“Go on and take one, then,” Aoba snickered. He couldn’t have rightly explained why he found it charming to watch the Guardian fidget so, though he far more wanted Declan to be at ease again. “I’ll go after you. I think I’m a little better off, but not by much. This cloak of mine doesn’t offer that much shade.”

[nopunchline]

Glancing Aoba's way with an expression that said 'Are you sure?' before he nodded and accepted without fussing. Usually he would insist the other man go first, but this time he really wanted to just spread out on the flex-tile floor and let the grime and aches go down the drain.

And...maybe...do that thing Mac talked about sometimes...

...Ehh...

Shaking his head free of the thought for the time being, Declan made a sound of gratitude and peeled off his underarmor top well before even getting to the room, his skin looking like wet marble as he turned the corner into their shared sleeping and bathing space. A minute later he was reclining on the shower bench, head back and eyes closed, letting water and steam do their jobs after he'd soaped down. Once he didn't feel that a clogged toilet was cleaner than himself, he propped himself up enough to look down at his body, feeling extremely detached. He'd read some curious things in one of the Japanese history books that got him thinking about himself the way he sometimes did after conversations with his too-descriptive and somewhat vulgar friend, or when he caught something on the television he thought a bit 'risque'. Should he be more self-aware? Was it unhealthy, like Mac said, that he didn't bother with those things?

Being in close quarters with someone he had to admit to himself he was attracted to made him curious. Granted, he sort of expected things to just happen on their own, and suddenly felt very ignorant in regards to his body. Prodding himself didn't really do anything.

...How did you know if things were broken or not?

...Well...he wasn't going to ask Ghost, that was for sure.

[scrappyblue]

While Declan went to shower, Aoba finally went about prying off all his outer layers, himself. Unused (thank god) weapons detached and set aside, cloak and connecting gear pulled off, everything stripped down to the lower layers to better appreciate the cool air inside the ship. He even adjusted his ponytail, shifting it higher up the back of his head to get as much hair off the back of his neck as he could.

He considered defrosting a snack for the two of them, but decided that was best left until he was clean. If Venus had any kind of weird biological contaminants, he figured he would have been warned, so it was mostly just a matter of ‘don’t handle food with dirty hands’. In this case, the hands extended to everything, since that was just how gross he felt.

Ignorant to the crisis of self-image that Declan was suddenly experiencing, Aoba had Ren remotely wire the music from his headphones through the ship speakers. The electric beats of Goatbed began to pulse, a comfortable background noise as Aoba opened up one of Ren’s downloaded transcripts and gave reading up on the so-called ‘Mighty One’ another go.

[nopunchline]

For all that it was purposefully vague, the references were soon clear between what Ren, Ghost, and Aoba pieced together. The Mighty One was the original Chosen One that caused the paradox. His efforts bought Earth more time, but also disrupted the original layout of portals. The only known maps had been taken by the humans that left Earth in mass exodus whom eventually evolved into the Awoken. Any other records were destroyed, though certainly not by the Ishtar collective; they had wanted to collect all knowledge in the universe, but someone came in and deliberately wiped the sparse remaining portal maps.

As best he could figure, Ghost suggested they continue the search in the Reef. The royal family would know about the maps, even if they were no longer in their possession. Bread crumbs.

While the others labored over academic questions, Declan's were more carnal. He tried to rouse himself manually, only to be mildly disgusted by the act bereft of context. When he tried imagining a different scenario, visualizing more of Aoba's body than he'd seen casually, pretending on a wild whim that the man were in the shower with him? Then the Titan had to panic over what to do with a sudden, slow boiling erection, since "jerking off" was too distressing because he'd gotten to that point being lecherous and inappropriate. Masturbation wasn't necessary, he screeched at himself internally, mentally flogging himself for the indecency of it all. Aoba would be so upset! He shouldn't have imagined those things, shouldn't have pretended for even a moment.

He was aching and miserable by the time he finally crept guiltily from the shower to slump into the pilot seat. He felt so uncomfortable in his own skin and desperately widhed he hadn't kept opening that door a little further every time he got curious. Even though he was mostly flaccid by then, to him it felt like at any moment Aoba might comment on his MASSIVE AROUSAL. Of course in his baggy sweats nothing looked out of the ordinary, but Declan certainly felt it.

He just hoped he could think of something else enough to banish the rest, immediately pulling up a general Japanese culture book. Surely talk of festivals and shrines would be a goid distraction...

[scrappyblue]

Ren and Ghost's assistance was invaluable. Aoba found he read through the script rather better than he'd managed with the myths, maybe because it was so much more relevant to his situation, but the two constructs still made headway far faster than he would have on his own.

It seemed... impossible. Countless worlds and times, but Earth was the relevant one. The Darkness was the ancient foe so offhandedly dismissed in the Guide's message. But then was it really defeated? The records came from the past, but the Darkness was here now, so somewhere through the portals it must have been defeated in the future...?

Headache. But also promising. The Darkness WOULD be defeated, Aoba choose to think. Declan's hopes would pay off, even if they couldn't be quite sure of the route it would take to get there....

He was engrossed enough he almost missed Declan slumping by them, but then the availability of the shower reminded him of how much he wanted it. Asking Ghost to catch Declan up on what they'd discovered, he made his move on the shower with a fresh set of under-gear.

Could've just shared, Desire grumbled after the water was running. He was unexpectedly louder than Aoba cared for.

It's not like this is a locker room. Besides... that would be more unkind to him than anything.

Level with me here, Reason. You really think the big guy just wants something physical? Do you seriously think after everything we've heard from him that he's the 'friends with benefits' type?

And here came the problem with intrusive thoughts having a complete consciousness of their own behind them. The nagging aspect went on, giving voice to some underlying current where they'd somehow become the same again, despite neither truly noticing.

Aoba noticed when his blood flow started going a little too south, though. And then a LOT too south. And then, he just didn't want to deal with it. Unlike Declan, though, he had other options quite literally complaining at him.

They switched. Desire didn't stop complaining, but Reason backed away as the other took hold in all ways and 'addressed' things for them. And when they were done, dried, and dressed, he let the other stay in front for a while.

Golden-eyed, Aoba slid into the copilot seat, leaning back and kicking a foot up in a place relatively devoid of sensitive controls and crossing his legs.

[nopunchline]

While Aoba showered and handled things the way Declan should have, the Titan listened to things explained to him by the two constructs. Pulling up the archives copied by them, he started going through the information and trying to arrange a more coherent timeline. In the end, the only thing he knew for sure was that being a Chosen One was terrifying and not limited to adults; the one mentioned in the writing was just a young boy.

Shaking his head and placing a few calls to contacts across the system, Declan arranged a meeting with the Sovs and got a line on where Xur might be lurking over the next couple of weeks. By the time Aoba settled into the other seat, the Awoken figured he had a pretty solid itinerary for them, and was optimistic about their options.

"I've got us a meeting with the Queen while we in the Reef. Hopefully her brother won't be in court at the time but...he usually is," Declan sighed, shifting a bit in his seat to look over at his companion.

"Are you hungry? I was thinking about heating something up. Ghost said he found a movie he thought we'd like. He said it was extremely popular pre-Golden Age. The Notebook? He said it was already a classic by your time, so maybe too old?"

[scrappyblue]

“Ah, right. Thought about making a snack for us, but figured that better wait until after showering,” Desire answered for them, briefly omitting pronouns in a more natural flow of their shifting identity, but his body language and slightly deeper, more casual tone of his voice still revealed him as the aspect in the driver’s seat. But, for a change, there was little in the way of ulterior motives for him. He’d helped Reason out, but now he just wanted to be out. Be the one in charge of their body as they moved about, do something perfectly normal like eat…and watch a movie? Sure, why the hell not. Desires encompassed the little things in life just as much as they did the more carnal, controversial ones. He even only gave Ren a little flick of his fingers in a ‘hey, howarya’ sort of wave when he caught the Allmate staring, acknowledging but not (deliberately) antagonizing. “Can’t say I’ve heard of the movie, but sure, I’m game.”

[nopunchline]

He noted the minor difference, perfectly willing to leave it unaddressed. He meant it when he intended to treat all sides of Aoba as decently as the next. If the other Aoba were interested in a movie and food, why not? He wasn't sure what ended up shifting them, but he supposed if he could leave behind another Declan to handle things while he napped inside his own head, he would.

If it were even like that, he mused, pushing himself out of his seat and moving to the kitchenette. He reached out, squeezing Aoba's shoulder gently, reassuring and acknowledging to Desire that he knew who he was talking to and welcomed him back around.

"Ghost, please start the film," he remarked, glancing up as the window shuttered and the movie displayed. The opening segment ran while he heated up some sort of protein casserole mix, wandering back and handing Desire a plate, pale eyes looking the other man over. He turned to the film and forced his attention there, unwilling to let his mind linger on thoughts of Aoba in the shower again. Nothing down that road but passive agony.

[scrappyblue]

That show of acknowledgement had Desire…just smiling. It was a far more content, much less smug or arrogant than many of his expressions the other times he’d been fronting. Okay, so maybe getting in a good solid jerk-off had done a little in the mellowing him out with a dose of endorphins, but being taken in stride was a good feeling, too. Especially when he’d been reaming Declan pretty roughly at his last appearance. And not in the fun way. But he sunk back in his seat further, accepted the plate when it was given to him, and behaved. Being more of an asshole was his tendency compared to the demeanor of their overall ‘Aoba’, but they were still the same. If some idea or another made ‘Reason’ too outright miserable just at the thought of it, Desire couldn’t—or at least, was no longer quite so willing—to completely override him. They were feeling out coexistence with the limited tools they had available to him. He ate the meal, watched the movie. It was a little dull and slow for him at some parts, but for being a sappy romance, it oddly wasn’t all that bad. As the credits rolled, Desire wagged an approving finger at the screen. He’d stayed dry-eyed the whole time, despite the sad turns of the tale, but Reason felt more somber in the back of their mind. Still, it remained Desire that was present to offer commentary. “Guy knew what he wanted and stuck with it to the end. I liked that guy.”

[nopunchline]

Declan, had not. The Titan was a silent-sobber, so Aoba was at no point immediately alerted to the slow collapse of Declan's world. The whole thing was just too sad.

"He worked so hard!" Declan croaked, and the second he was looked at, it was easy to tell that at some point in the end he had fallen completely to pieces. Pale eyes were puffy and ringed with color from the strain of tears, and pale cheeks were sticky and wet. Full lips curved in a pronounced expression of sorrow, pouting hard at the unfairness of it all.

"He...he loved her so much...he worked so hard to win her heart and then that happened? How is that right? What's wrong with the world when no matter how hard you fight you still lose in something that ought to be so....so clear...And she loved him too!" Declan protested, fingers gripping his empty plate so hard it would have broken if it weren't metal.

"She loved him back! It's supposed to be a happy ending. Why'd she end up like that? What's wrong with her?" Of course, Declan didn't know anything about dementia, Alzheimer's, or any degenerative disease since it was all eradicated long before he resurrected. All he knew was he did not like the movie. Not one bit.

...They should probably stick to family films...

[scrappyblue]

…woah. Color Desire many, many shades of surprised. Not so much that Declan was moved, given how sensitive the Guardian had proved to be, but that he was moved so emotively. Desire turned sidesaddle in his chair, setting his plate aside on a ledge as he considered the…absurdity of what he was seeing. It’s not absurd to be sad, Reason chided him, but softer than Desire did when he was the one leveling criticisms. Desire was quiet, listening to Reason’s undercurrent for a few moments. There was an inclination to switch again, to let him address this, but neither one of them acted on it. “It was in her brain, big guy,” he finally answered, reaching across the space between their seats to touch the nearer of those white-knuckled hands. (Whiter?) “She was old. Her brain was falling apart from the inside.”

And now, the non-canon

[scrappyblue]

Could've just shared, Desire grumbled after the water was running. He was unexpectedly louder than Aoba cared for. It's not like this is a locker room. Besides... that would be more unkind to him than anything. Level with me here, Reason. You really think the big guy just wants something physical? Do you seriously think after everything we've heard from him that he's the 'friends with benefits' type? And here came the problem with intrusive thoughts having a complete consciousness of their own behind them. The nagging aspect went on, giving voice to some underlying current where they'd somehow become the same again, despite neither truly noticing. I don’t—I don’t know! You said he was willing to ‘compromise’ with you! Yeah, and did you catch the parts where he talked about friendship and care? I know you were zoned out at the time, but he also used the word ‘affections’. I mean maybe we’ve never actually been in a fuckbuddies scenario, but I’m pretty damn sure one wouldn’t be as sweet as he sounds when he’s talking. And then Desire hit him with worse than just words. Suddenly came imagery. Declan in the shower with him, touching him with those large, always-gentle hands. Applying those pouting lips of his to things other than poetic words and reassurances. Crude though Desire was, his imagination between them didn’t warp the Guardian’s nature away from anything they’d learned of him. And when Aoba found himself crumbling, sagging onto the shower bench with heat low in his stomach and ache building in his groin, it was harder and harder to just Reason away everything Desire was throwing at him. His baser yearnings shot holes through every excuse he had to keep them at bay. He was clinging to threads of denial instead of just speaking up and resolving it all. Finally, he gave in. He couldn’t face it himself, but he gave in. So, golden-eyed, Desire left the water running behind them as he stepped out of the shower and to the doorway of the bunker/bath space, wet feet unquiet upon the metal. He stood in said doorway, gripping it with one hand, hair slicked to his skin by water and with more of it dripping down the lines of his body and pooling at his feet. The blue shades that Declan so admired were mirrored in the thatch between Aoba’s legs, which only drew all the more attention to the swollen interest he was sporting there. “Oi, big guy,” he called across the space, steam billowing from behind him. “I want to talk compromises.”

[nopunchline]

"What's th--" Declan leaned and turned to look around the seat, eyes curious, then horrified, then curious again, then horrified again. He'd wanted to give full attention to the other man, then realized he was naked. Then realized he was naked, again, which was immediately followed by mortified guilt over looking at all. His pale face whipped around and stared forward, offering half a dozen prayers to the Traveler because his body was not prepared to see exactly what he'd been pretending to see not fifteen minutes ago.

"What are you saying? I'm sorry? I didn't mean to look! I didn't...know you were...there's...there's towels."

[scrappyblue]

Yeah, see that? That’s not the reaction of a guy that just wants to be down to fuck, Desire attempted to point out, but Reason barely counted as acknowledging him. He was as withdrawn as he could get, back in the corners where Desire had once been shunted. Problem was, they weren’t all dark anymore. He could retreat from awareness, but he couldn’t completely escape it, just as Desire could not longer be trapped away from it. He stayed in the doorway, listing to one side to more lean on the edge that he had a hand on. “I said compromises. Remember that? You asked about one a while back and I was pretty mad, so I didn’t want to talk about it. I changed my mind.”

[nopunchline]

Oh God, why now?. Declan perked visibly on the other side of the chair, clearly listening and hearing, but he hunched almost as quick, lowering his face into one hand. The other, hidden behind the chair, was all but crushing himself with a fist, struggling to put that problem down quickly.

He absolutely could not be thinking with his dick in any way at the moment. He needed to make his decisions objectively. Or at least goddamn try.

"I...I remember." He did. Clearly. The rejection had, so far as he'd seen it, cleared things up and make it obvious they weren't even kind of on the same page. And his recent very crystalline rejection by Aoba clinched the rest.

Or so he thought.

The Titan bit his bottom lip so hard his eyes watered, face still careful not to turn and look the other way. Nevermind what he wanted.

"What...what changed your mind? I thought...Just earlier we were talking about things and..." Now he had to look, thought his eyes stayed up on the other man's face as he turned in the seat. His own eyes were full of confusion and a little hurt. This was really too much sometimes, no matter how patient and understanding he was.

"We just sorted out that my interests were unacceptable. Aoba..." No, they're both Aoba. Be considerate. "...You...don't want a man interested in you. It isn't proper where you're from. I'm willing to accept that, but coming to me now is just cruel," Declan stated, trying to sound stern but really only sounding defeated, even to himself. Between his own aches emotionally and now physically, and the see-saw mentality of his friend, he just didn't know what to think anymore.

Mixed signals was a gross understatement.

"...You said you want the same things...I don't know what to believe anymore."

[scrappyblue]

“And that, big guy, is where we run into stupid little things called misunderstandings.” Was he wasting water? He was totally wasting water. But they were planetside so could it just get refilled from a lake or something? Mm, but if he could get Declan to compromise, he wanted there to still be hot water…. Desire stepped back into the shower area just long enough to stop the water, since it looked like he had to make the hard sell (more evidence in favor of his side of the argument, thanks), before returning to the doorway. This time he stepped right on through it, wet footsteps giving away his approach until he was right there, leaning on the back of Declan’s chair. “What’d the pup say? Aoba hasn’t had a chance to explore himself? See, you managed to take that as meaning you couldn’t be liked, when the proper answer is you’re exactly what is liked. And when you got it wrong, Reason was too embarrassed to correct you.” He reached down, dragging a damp finger along the side of Declan’s neck. That line where a pulse could flutter or pound so tellingly. “That’s the problem when you’re the side of things dedicated to thinking. You think up the stupidest shit sometimes. With the two of us going back and forth, it’s easy for Aoba to confuse what he thinks he knows with what he knows he wants.”

[nopunchline]

Desire really didn't need to check for a pulse to know Declan was in a fit. The shudder, flinch, snort, and gasp were ample evidence. the gooseflesh on the back of his neck, maybe? Of the press of his hand into his lap, trying to look like a casual positioning while punishing his willful body.

"What if you're the one that thinks he knows best but doesn't?" he asked, tone not particularly defiant so much as genuinely worried, for both sides of Aoba.

"What if you're both getting all tangled up in this perpetual argument of yours over every decision made, and everyone ends up hurt in the end? I told you...There's...there's things I can't do unless you're in accord...I won't compromise either of you, regardless of what you or I may want." He trailed off, inhaling deeply to calm himself from his rattled vibrating.

"I also won't go back on what I said. Compromises. I stand by it."

[scrappyblue]

It wasn’t about the actual pulse as much as being a vulnerable place to put his touch, and Declan reacted just as much as Desire could have wished. Openly. Honestly. Here was a man with all his own desires, reasoning, and restraint in working order, and still so stunningly honest. “And I’m not telling you to budge,” Desire replied, briefly pulling up the air of one long-suffering. “Compromise. That’s what I said, too. And that’s why I’m leading right now. One side of Aoba compromising with the other, putting me forward to compromise with you.” And god was it hard to try and talk this patiently when he was half-hard, wanting to do the talking with bodies over words. But this was the internal deal, to try and strike the external one. Desire leaned a bit further in, intent, but avoiding outright aggression because the undercurrent between them reminded him he wouldn’t get anything he wanted if he pushed that far. “Help me explore a little, Declan. Show me something else the world back there won’t let me see.” And then, because someone in this complicated little affair needed to say it: “Show me what it’s like when another man loves me.”