itstopped | Re-Entry 16: Video

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Re-Entry 16: Video

((Backdated to before Racetrack's disappearance, sometime after this thread.))

[Private to Trip, CC: Dean]

[Honestly, as remarkable as what's happened is, it's almost as remarkable that Felix is the first one to notice. He just really doesn't spend that much time in his own quarters anymore. But he stops by to pick something up, and that's when he notices the changes. Specifically, this one, which is why the camera is currently on what looks like a very standard shower.]

...Trip? [If he sounds completely bewildered, it's only because he is.]

[Friends filter (if you think you're on it, etc. Including you, Morgana.)]

I, um... I graduated today. [He still doesn't really sound like he believes it.] And for those of you who know what I was thinking about why I hadn't, I think I was right, because I'm not really sure what I'm going to do next. But... whatever happens, I wanted to say... thank you. To all of you. You deserve to hear that.

Actually, that's not entirely true. I do know one thing I'm going to do next. [He smiles slightly.] The CES showed me Picon once, just once... I'm going to go to the pub, get a bottle of something, and go sit there until it shows up again. Feel free to join me.

[Private to Racetrack and Claire Bennet, separately]

I'd like to ask you a question.

[Public]

[And this one is from the CES, later, when he seems to have found both his bottle and his world. He's sitting on a long stretch of beach, a low grassy hill rising behind him, the wind and salt in his hair; and even though the sun brings out all his imperfections -- how pale he's become under the olive tones of his skin, the shock of gray hair at his temples, the dark rings under his eyes -- he looks younger and softer than he ever has before. He takes a drink from the bottle and rubs a hand over his mouth.]

Does anyone know... has anyone ever stayed on this ship without becoming a warden?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I had. [He clasps his hands in his lap, frowns down at them.] And there's a part of me that thinks I should stand by that, but... I don't know, these last few weeks...

[A beat.] I've been looking at what I have.

[And that's when Dean knows he's screwed. He knew it before, of course, he's known it this whole time, but Felix says that and the tiny twist of hope becomes something much sharper and much deadlier. Something he has to grab hold of, or it'll kill him right here and right now.

When Dean draws in a breath to speak, it catches on something in his throat, but he speaks over it with a rough kind of determination, and a brittle kind of wonder.]

You're serious. [Felix, of all people, would not be saying what he's saying if he wasn't. It's not a question.]

I don't-- [He hears that roughness in Dean's voice and it catches in his own throat, makes it harder to breathe. He shouldn't have said anything, he thinks. He shouldn't have said anything, but how long could he have kept this a secret? Maybe he should have tried.

Because now, if he ends up being wrong, it's only going to hurt Dean that much more. So much more than if he'd just gone through with it in the first place. He sighs and ducks his head, running his hands agitatedly through his hair.]

I just think I need more time. [Or maybe it's just that he wants more time.]

[That is true, and Dean knows it, too. The problem is he decided to trust Felix a long time ago and maybe he did so knowing the gun was already at his temple, but it had felt right then. It feels right now. Dean has gambled for less important things with less incentive, with less certainty.

His answer, this time, is swift.] Okay.

[It's a no brainer, really, but at least now Dean knows which way to jump. He still feels unsettled, precarious, vulnerable, but at last comes the offer that would have, at any other time, come first.] You want me to come up there?

[This, he doesn't have to think about.] Yes. Please.

Alright. I'm on my way.

[The feed cuts and then he is, indeed, on his way. He wants in equal parts to bolt up to Felix's cabin as fast as he can, like he'll disappear in between while Dean isn't talking to him and can't see him. At the same time, his heartbeat is loud in his ears and he feels mildly light headed and he doesn't know how to feel. Dean takes the time in between, then, to try to be more sure of himself, more certain of what's going to come out of his mouth when he opens it, what's going to happen when he sees Felix, because he honestly doesn't know. It's disconcerting, and mildly alarming, but he can't not go.]

Felix? [It turns out that when he walks in the door, the single word inquiry does come out more tense than he would've liked, anxious in a way he can't help and doesn't normally give in to; but it also turns out that really, not much else changes. He looks like Dean, dressed for maintenance work in jeans and workboots and an open buttondown and t-shirt, albeit a very tightly coiled Dean; and he still smiles when he spots Felix, relieved and grateful before he stuffs that down again; and he still makes a beeline for him, eager to lay hands on and reassure himself the best way he knows how, and Felix too if he needs it, if he'll accept it.

It's easier, now that he's still here, now that he hasn't disappeared yet, to let the smile slip towards a grin, to maybe let himself believe it a bit more, even if there's something almost fierce and a little desperate in how tight his arms cinch around Felix, how long he holds on. Having that reassurance makes it possible to say what he should've said first, probably, and he does so now on a slow exhale.] I'm proud of you.

[Felix remains in the bathroom when Dean switches off; in fact, he doesn't move from where he's sitting until he hears the door. He feels stuck, even trapped. It's not lost on him, the irony that he should feel this way on the day, in the moment he's finally become free. Now it's just a different kind of trap, though: now it's one of his own making. A lot of it is Dean, of course, and it never would have happened if not for him -- It's okay to want to be here while you're here -- but it's other things, too.

The lab. The library. His friends. All the strange and sometimes wonderful things he's been telling himself he hasn't wanted anything to do with, all the potential mysteries he hasn't let himself even approach. The second chance he's only just starting to realize he might want after all, if not for himself than for... someone, anyway. A new mission he's not ready to turn down.

Maybe it's not that he wants to be here, but that he doesn't want to go just yet. And he knows that's not fair to Dean at all, to dangle that possibility in front of him, to give him a hope that might turn out to be false. But Dean has said again and again that if he can only enjoy things while he has them, he wants to try, and... at least maybe Felix can give him that much. A few more days, weeks, however long, and by choice this time.

He stands up when he hears the voice in the main room, goes to greet him, accepting the hug without a word. He holds back tight, not even minding for once the way his ribs practically creak under the pressure, as if trying to say everything he's feeling -- relief and regrets both -- without having to say them out loud. He's not sure what to say to I'm proud of you, either -- he's not sure, right now, what there is to be proud of -- so he just kisses his cheek and pulls back, pulling up a smile.]

Let's keep the party small, okay?

[Maybe it isn't fair, maybe it's Dean's fault for knowingly setting himself up for it, but there is one big advantage to the life Dean has lead so far: he knows damn well and fine never to expect fair. That's not to say there's not still fear, not still anger sometimes, but he doesn't even hesitate to seize onto what Felix has given him with both hands - figuratively and literally.

It might, he realizes when Felix goes to pull away and some irrational part of him drops a sharp weight directly from his throat to his gut, be more of a problem than he'd anticipated. His first instinct is to tighten his grip and he does, but when his mind catches up to itself and he sternly tells himself that Felix isn't going to disappear the moment Dean isn't crushing him up against his side, he reluctantly let's go. A little. Felix is joking and Dean doesn't know what to do with that for a moment, he still feels a little breathless, like just managing to step away from a deadly drop before his foot goes over the edge. He shakes it off, though, smiles back determinedly.]

Fine. But at least you're acknowledging that there will be a party. [It's easy to tease, normally, but he stalls out there for a moment, fingers cur;ed thoughtlessly, securely, into the fabric of Felix's shirt. He doesn't notice.] I uh. There's not much going on. I can take the day off and we can do... something.

I mean christ, we should DO something.

[He does. His eyes fall to where Dean's hand is fixed in his shirt, and he quietly covers it with one of his own.] We don't need to do anything. I mean, you don't-- I don't need a party.

[And it's not even his aversion to being social, this time. He'd enjoyed the last one, and lately, he's been feeling... well, not really back to the way things used to be, he doesn't think he'll ever get there, but better. More like things were, at least, before the leg and before the wasteland Earth. He'd had friends, then, and a job he liked, and Louis, and even with all the other things he'd been feeling, the lingering effects of New Caprica and the Colonies... that had been enough, once.

And it might again, he's only just starting to realize. But if it's not... No, he doesn't want a party. Not when he's still this unsure, when his grip on this new perspective is so tenuous. At best, it would feel forced. What would they be celebrating? Even if he has choices now, his choices are still to live here or die in his own world or go off somewhere alone.

He curls his fingers around Dean's, licking his lips uncertainly.] I was thinking I'd go to the CES for a while. Now that I don't need you to let me in, but... that's not to say you can't come with me.

[Something occurs to him, then, and he looks back up, eyes narrowing suspiciously.] Or you could go back to work. I'm not going to go anywhere without telling you first.

You do realize that before coming here, my idea of "party" was me, Sam, and a six-pack, right? Unless I was crashing someone else's. [It sounds pathetic but it has the benefit of being true, and Dean is too distracted to bother with anything other than candid honesty. He glances at their hands now but it still doesn't quite register, because Felix is still talking.]

Okay. I mean yeah, sure. I meant it: there's not much going on, now everyone's pretty much back on their feet, and Anya does what she wants anyway. [He should probably feel worse about this. He does not. He is, in fact, in the process of deciding if they should stick with beer from the fridge or get something better from the pub - Felix doesn't know what there is to celebrate, but Dean does, and he can show him how to pick and choose the good from the bad - when Felix looks up at him at the same time as Dean finally realizes he hasn't let go of him yet.

The combination, as well as Dean's fully acknowledged inability to hide the fact that he's been thinking about that exact thing, is enough to make him hesitate with a flash of honest guilt through his eyes. Some of the cheer drains off his face as he considers trying to deny it, but then something else occurs to him and he switches gears abruptly, that roughness back in his voice from wherever he'd had it stowed.]

Sometimes people think that's better. To just go, without warning. [Dean's thought it himself, of course, and he's done it in the past; to Lisa, he'd thought for years that he should've done with Cassie, with Buffy. But he remembers John, remembers Sam springing his bullshit on them out of nowhere, that he'd intended to just slip off, already had the bus ticket and everything. His fingers only tighten where they are, though it's not conscious.] It's not. It's not easier, at least not on the people left behind. It's not easier and it's not better.

I understand. [He says it firmly, not tenderly, his eyes still locked intently on Dean's. For him, it's Dee. It will always be Dee. And he'll always forgive her, but that doesn't make it any easier.] And I won't do that. If things... change back, and if it's within my power to do so, if it's not the Admiral's decision, you'll know first. I won't do anything without talking to you. I promise.

[And he's a liar and a traitor and a spy, even to the person he loves most in the world, but... whatever in Dean makes him trust him anyway, he hopes it will trust him on this.]

[Dean wouldn't have believed tender, here. It's the firmness that makes him waver, though nothing about him advertises this outside of his own thoughts at first. His eyes are there, too, steady and unwavering, searching for anything at all that will tell him this is anything other than the absolute truth. That this is the one time Felix will try to do something to spare his feelings, the one time he'll coddle Dean in some way.

That he'll say this to him now and maybe not the moment Dean leaves the room but the next time something happens, the next time he's feeling more bad than good, that'll be it. The door will be empty, and he'll never know.

But there isn't, and there is one thing Dean knows: Felix may be all of those things but from day one, Dean has been attracted to the goodness in him. To the part that did that, all of it, trying to help. He breaks his gaze away and down, because Felix may not realize it, Dean has given freely of his trust and his faith before now, but this is something Dean isn't sure he can give. And it's something, he realizes in the next moment, that he's going to have to anyway.

So he nods, and he deliberately, reluctantly, eases his grip on Felix's shirt.]

Okay. [Quiet at first, Dean clears his throat and tries again.] Okay. Thank you.

[The problem is that he can't guarantee that part of that might not be true. He can't promise that he won't want to leave, or worse, when things get bad again, and they both know they will. He can't promise anything about this is permanent. He can't even promise it will last more than a week, although ideas are starting to crystallize in his head that he suspects will occupy him beyond then. All he can promise is to love and respect Dean enough, and to be brave enough, for a proper goodbye.

But, yes. That much, he can do.

He lifts a hand to Dean's cheekbone, grazing his fingers over it, eyes softening a little.] I... don't completely know what to do. [It's an admission, a confession.] I mean, gods-- if I stay here, I don't have to warden, do I?

[Dean is taking things, as ever, one day at a time. One step, one obstacle at a time. If he can believe Felix won't choose to disappear on him, it will be enough for now. And if Dean, at least, knows that he's been waiting for that from the beginning, well. They've made it this far. They can go a little further.

He won't ask Felix to promise that it's permanent, as much as he wants to. He knows where ultimatums land people, land him specifically, and he knows too that this is truly the best he could have hoped for. More than he had any right to, maybe. Maybe not.

The touch at his cheek draws Dean's eyes back, and he finally manages to drop his hand away from its hold, if only to rest instead on Felix's hip. This is a more casual form of contact, though, more typical of them from day to day. The corner of his mouth twitches at the problem before them, neither up nor down, but he does take it seriously.

And then a bit more amusement at the horror inherent in the idea of wardening for Felix.]

You'd make a good warden. [It's a tease because that's easiest, but he means it. He also moves on before anything can be said about that.] I've never heard of anyone being kicked off directly after graduating. I guess the asshole realizes people need some time to figure shit out. And I've had a few people... ah. I've had a few people go home without ever being paired, so either they never made up their minds to warden, or it took 'em that long to decide... where to go.

[This much, Dean can speak to with certainty. He's been here long enough, seen enough people move through.] I don't think you have to know what to do.

[He pulls a bit of a face at you'd make a good warden, nose wrinkling slightly. Even then, though, he can't say he sounds completely certain when he mutters:] I think I'll pass on that.

[After all, it's not as if he doesn't understand the value of the deals. He still has no intention of asking for the Colonies to be restored -- every objection he'd made to that still holds true, after all. But there are other things, more achievable things. And it's not as though he relishes any better the idea of living under the Admiral's roof and rules, taking advantage of everything there is to offer, and... freeloading, essentially. He's a lot of things, but he's never been that. He rubs a hand thoughtfully over his mouth, frowning.]

There are... other ways to work, aren't there? Other things I could do. I had a few ideas-- I mean, for all I know, that was finished it anyway, having ideas.

[Dean shrugs: he's not taking opinions on that. All he has to do is remember all the times Felix has demanded others be accountable, others be better, others look at what is in front of them instead of what they want to believe about themselves and the people around them and he knows. Not wanting to do it is one thing, but he would be good at it if he did.

Freeloading doesn't occur to Dean, of course, though maybe eventually it would have. He thinks on an individual scale, and he is biased towards the people he cares about, and it's not as though Felix wouldn't be an asset whether he chose to actively warden or not. No, instead he hears I had a few ideas and other things I could do and whatever it is that is making it hard for him to stop touching Felix, whatever it is that is helplessly, painfully hopeful, cuts a little deeper.

He smiles.] You know I got no clue how the Admiral works, but I would think so. You're one of what, four people on board qualified to work the engine room that hasn't also tried to take it over, and I don't see people running to take a stab at the laboratory. And there's the annexe: maybe you don't have a doctorate, yet, but you've got a lot rattling around in there that other people don't know and might want to, might need to.

[He tugs lightly at Felix's hip, jostling them mildly without any further intent.] There's still a lotta good you can do. And, knowing you, you will.

The engine room's not that hard. [It's not modesty. In such things, he's not modest. He's smiling, though, and it deepens as Dean pulls at him; he bumps his shoulder playfully against Dean's, like Dean does to him sometimes in public spaces.] I'm a frakking computer tech, not an engineer -- I'm qualified because I volunteered back when no one cared about it, and now I'm just...

[Well, there's something that hadn't occurred to him until now. He brightens slightly, brows raising. He'd been planning, in whatever nebulous plans he's already started making, on shifting focus to the lab, but if he no longer has to answer to anyone in the engine room...] Think he'll give me a key?

Neither is using a pencil, but if you don't know how to do it, you just don't know how to do it.

[Dean, for his part, could probably make the jump but he just hasn't spent enough time there. He knows just enough to help hold it all together when support is needed, but as for committing and really learning the ropes? He just hasn't yet.

Felix bumps his shoulder and startles a lopsided smile out of the hunter, but it's the sudden brightness that begins to soothe the tension he's at least, for the time being, able to keep in check and hidden. Maybe...

Maybe.] Sure. Why not? [The other side of the smile appears, then, and he's bumping Felix's arm with his right back.] You're all official, now. Or at least, if you can get into the CES, you should be able to hang onto keys.

And if not, I'll just ask for one and give it to you. I'm a professional security risk.

I know. [He shoots him a look.] I told you that. [Dean trusts too much; Dean trusts him too much. He can't say he's not grateful, though, especially right now. He relaxes slightly and lays a hand on his forearm, one of the silent reminders he's starting to get a little better at, himself.]

We'll see. Having another... person... actually able to look after the place couldn't hurt. [He can't bring himself to say warden, but the rest of the idea is still a tempting one. He trusts Babs and Trip with the place now, but being on an equal footing with Megamind would be a relief.]

Then again, I don't know if I can get into the CES yet, either. [He'll be able to, he'll find, but right now everything is still so... new. He rubs his hand idly up and down Dean's arm.] I called you and Trip as soon as I saw...

[Dean meets Felix's look with a completely nonplussed one of his own; he knows Felix is the one who pointed it out, and he knows Felix is the one who has taken the most advantage of that to date. He doesn't regret it. He's probably not going to change, especially not now, not when Felix has come around to maybe accepting that that's just the way it is with Dean. Or maybe not.

The day Felix takes over the ship is the day Dean decides he'll deal with that.

The hunter raises an eyebrow, leaning into Felix a little, mostly subconsciously.] Well there's an easy way to test that, anyway. You said you were headed up?

[Felix may think Dean should just go back to work, but it's just not going to happen. Probably eventually. Maybe. Yes, he promises he won't be this person, but for now he meant it. He's still got his hand resting on Felix's hip and he strokes his thumb there idly, glancing towards the door, then back abruptly.]

You know what your item is? It's... either something you have on you all the time, or something really important to you, or both. [Dean motions at the lump under his shirt that is his brass amulet; it's pretty much the only thing he never, ever takes off.]

[He shrugs.] Well, I don't have anything important... [He lifts a hand to his own sternum, curiously touching the spot where the amulet Dean gave him is hidden beneath his own shirt. The apologetic smirk comes a second later -- all right, it's probably not a surprise to Dean that Felix doesn't think this is especially important, but he probably shouldn't have admitted that out loud.] I do wear this, though. Just like you wanted.

Otherwise... [He glances himself over, pursing his lips thoughtfully.] I don't know. I guess I usually wear... [He pulls back, suddenly, to look down at his watch. It's true, too: he takes it off to sleep, it's not sacred to him, but he does wear it very nearly all the time unless he has compelling reason not to. It's the only holdover from Galactica he does wear. He even keeps it wound and checks it regularly. There's something comforting about always knowing the time, even here.] How do I tell?

Good. [Dean's reply is satisfied and not at all offended; he is fully capable of being sentimental, the lone bastion of it in his family in fact, with his attachment to his car and his necklace and anniversaries, dates, holidays. The amulet, however, was purely practical. It's important, but not because it was a gift from Dean.

Dean glances down at the watch, too; he's of course fully aware of it in a way he hadn't realized it until Felix had pointed it out, and at that point he almost agrees. It's the one thing that has been constant about Felix from day one, anyway, from a possessions standpoint. He smirks at the question, though.]

Easy: we go wave it in front of a warden-only area and see if it opens. C'mon.

[And it really might be as simple as that. Dean had intended for it to be, anyway, trying to separate everything out into appropriate boxes, line them up against the wall out of his way; he means to go on with their day, not make a big deal, not throw a tantrum or cling like a widow or anything. Continue on. Take it a day at a time.

They're almost to the door when Dean apparently, and not exactly consciously at that, abruptly changes his mind. He's not really sure whether Felix has his arm or he has Felix's hand but his fingers close around his wrist instead and, almost all in one motion, he pulls Felix against him, turns, and presses them both into the nearest vertical surface - possibly not even that stable, but vertical nonetheless - and kisses him, not gently.]

Edited 2013-09-08 01:38 (UTC)

[Felix, too, is sure that it won't really be as simple as that in a fair number of ways, but he's settled into this strange, still-raw newness enough for the moment that he's ready to move forward both figuratively and literally. Dean gets him out of the room and he goes willingly, fiddling curiously with his watch now, rubbing it up and down his wrist as if to check it for powers. Eventually, he catches some off look of Dean's and forces himself to drop his hands, bump his arm against Dean's in that same code, that odd little sign of I'm here and I'm okay. He even takes his arm again for a second, although he doesn't plan to keep that up out here, not to mention that they're close to the door he needs anyway.

He's certainly not planning for what comes next, and he's not entirely prepared. Even if, in retrospect, he should be. He lets out a soft and not entirely dignified sound of surprise, eyes darting to either side.

Then again, no one is around... He lets himself melt a little bit into it, eyes sliding closed as he leans back against whatever Dean's got him pressed up by -- which will turn out to be the elevator buttons. Just for a second, he thinks, hands resting on Dean's chest. They've earned it.]

[Felix lets out a sound that might be protest but he doesn't actually protest, and he doesn't try to pull away, and Dean doesn't care who sees or who else is around, so Dean doesn't stop. Usually he eases into this a little less suddenly, but there's some of that sharp edge from the embrace back in Felix's cabin still there in the way that he presses closer and then closer still, molding every part of him to fit against every part of Felix that he can, and he doesn't let up the kiss. He pushes, nipping at Felix's lower lip before sealing their mouths together again, breath harsh and unsteady around his efforts.

Not that he especially tries to push them further than that; not that he thinks he could. But they've earned it, and they have it right now, and Felix is still here and maybe he'll still be here longer and maybe he won't, and for all of these reasons Dean does his best to imprint Felix in his memory and vice. When he finally registers that maybe this is carrying on too long, maybe he's demanding too much, he still doesn't ease back; he just breaks away and tilts his head slightly to one side, leaning his forehead instead against the comparatively cool wall of the elevator, breath right next to Felix's ear, arms braced to either side to hold him up from crushing him completely, eyes half-closed and unfocused

Dean places a softer, much more chaste kiss at the corner of Felix's eye, then, and finally pushes himself upright again. He doesn't have much to say for himself.]

[The problem, although it's hard to call it one right now, is that he likes Dean pushing, demanding, sometimes even when it's too much. He really does mean to only stay for a moment, but then Dean is crowding him up against the wall and biting at his lip and he forgets all sense of plan or propriety. He lets out another sound, soft, but this one can only be read as encouragement. By the time Dean stops, his own breathing has gone ragged and shaky, and one of the hands on Dean's chest has drifted recklessly down towards his stomach.

He stays quiet as Dean break away to cool off, anything but cool with his heat and weight against him, the heat of his breath against his ear. He tries to catch his own, leaning his head back against the wall, staring at the ceiling. The kiss that follows is sweeter, but it still makes his throat hitch, eyes falling shut for a moment. His hands haven't moved, and now as Dean pulls away he lets his fingers curl in his shirt. His eyes open to catch Dean's, very dark, both questioning and inviting.

He can't say he doesn't know what brought this on, and maybe he should say something to try to reassure him again, or to at least bring his heartrate back down. What he does, instead, is lick his lips and shoot another glance up the corridor, then drop one hand to deliberately reach up behind himself and press the elevator call button.]

I think the CES will still be there in ten minutes.

Edited 2013-09-08 14:49 (UTC)

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