Athos supposes that after what he said - and immediately after saying it he'd decided that it was really just, such a stupid thing to say, because he's tried to protect people before and if nothing else history has shown him to some exponential power that he's only good at it when they aren't people he's invested in personally - he should have expected a reaction like that. Something softer, since that's what people do, right? People are soft with the ones who they care about.
They're also softer with people who are broken, or people they think can't handle things properly, which isn't exactly the same thing but comes close enough, and it's interesting sometimes to consider that we treat those we love the most the same as we treat innocents and the mentally incapable. Gentleness isn't a response often given to the strong, to the point where it tends to take them the most off-guard of them all.
He thinks too much. He almost preferred the almost-violence of what they were doing before, if only because it afforded less of a chance, not that he couldn't still rise to the occasion.
"I didn't-" mean it like that. Not specifically, anyway, even if he can't particularly argue he's entirely opposed to the idea. There's been quite an odd sort of reaction between them for a while now, one that at some point he just decided to stop attempting to figure out, because people have never really been his strong suit and the ones like her, the ones who have learned to shift and become what they feel like for however long or short a time they wish to, well they're all the more difficult to pin down. He doesn't enjoy the almost inevitable comparison to Anne that some of Juliett's traits draw, but he's not unaware of them. They're not all bad - he did, does, love Anne in the first place, albeit in a very different way than he does Juliett. Still, they're unfair comparisons to begin with.
He's not actually sure he likes having this decision. He wants to, right now he definitely wants to, but. It's worrying on some level. But what's the alternative? Hearing dead lovers haunt them in their thoughts? That tends to go poorly even for well-adjusted people, and if he was thinking too much before, he definitely is now, expression not worried precisely but far less certain than usual.
So in light of that expression it's probably not that surprising that he finally breaks eye contact, looks somewhere over her shoulder instead and gives more or less a non-answer. It's okay, it annoys him too. "Probably a good idea. Not any more than tonight, anyway."
"You don't." There's wanting, wanting, and wanting. They're...caught somewhere in between the second and third. More than an urge, less than a need. A low burning thing full of embers and potential that Athos, at least, seems reluctant to stir.
Seeing as normally he's the more sane of them? It's probably best to follow his gut and not. Maybe another time but- she makes no move to leave his lap. While nothing more may come to pass this is...the closeness helps to quiet her ghosts. And while it feels a little lie abandonment when he looks away, a little like lying when he won't give a straight answer she can't truly begrudge him the confusion.
No.
Scratch that.
She can. She has ever been nothing but forthright with him in her own strange way. That he would dodge something so direct as this for the sake of...what? Pride? Propriety? Her feelings? Yes or no. That's what she needs now more than the closeness. Ambiguity in consent is problematic on so many levels and she's never stood for it in the past. She'll not stand for it now.
"Oliver." She'd promised to never, but here she is, one hand curling in his hair to tug his face back so they're eye to eye again. "Yes or no. No is fine. I'll get up, order dinner, and we'll watch something terrible on the network. But you need to be clear. My whole existence is vague insinuation and nuanced, nebulous orders, inferred affection and multiple layers of meaning I had to put up with from Monet. I do not need that here with you."
He just. For someone who feels things quite as deeply as he does sometimes he's remarkably ill-equipped to handle strong emotions and hoo boy right now emotions are running very high and fast and tight. As much as he wants, and wants her, and wants to feel close like that, open like that, vaguely safe like that again with someone, he's just...
If they do it now it's not them sticking it to Monet and Anne, is it? It's them both running from them; it's both he and her allowing themselves to be twisted and torn up by their ex lovers once again and he'd just, he'd rather it not be like that. But maybe it isn't already? Maybe that's not what it would be, maybe it would just be what it is, and maybe he's overthinking it like he overthinks so many other things already. He's been doing it constantly since he first realised she was talking to it, doing it just shy of constantly before that for other less obsessive reasons, and he's evasive now because he can't make up his mind even when literally given a this or that question and Juliett's right to seem dissatisfied with that, he thinks in the split second before she says his name and jerks him right out of those thoughts too.
Olivier, and she barely needed her hand to tug him back to face her because his eyes were seeking hers out already, and they're open and he's still not sure. He stares while he considers this, and then retroactively her explanation hits, and he realises she wants to not be guessing. She wants clarity, and even though he's typically not particularly great at that, he can try. "I want to. We've had -- whatever this is, for a while. I've thought about it. I just don't know if - if it would be because of them or just in spite. I'm just tired of feeling controlled. By them, by... This, I don't know. Everything. To stop thinking." And now he's just doing that aloud, really, which actually isn't what she asked for, might in fact be the opposite of what she asked for to be honest, and he reins it back in. It's a yes or no question, Athos - Olivier, Alpha, whoever you are. Why it has to be his decision, he's not sure, since she's apparently fine with either option. This isn't his field, really. Clearly. "I don't want to order dinner. Or watch the network. That's not going to help." Actually that makes his skin itch and bones fidget beneath tendons alone, and his hands tighten both to stave off the phantom feeling of both of those and just to feel her beneath his palms. "You always help."
"No. No 'I want' or 'I don't want' or dancing around it. Simple question, simple answer." She draws him in like poison gas, breathing down every waft of uncertainty. Swallows it back and down while her fingers comb through his hair, tap against his topmost port. This needn't be complicated. They both have far, far too much of complication. "Yes or no."
Yes had been implied, certainly, with how he clung, how he spoke, how he looked at her- but no more implications. No more inferences. No more nuance. No more subtlety. No more fucking complications. Just.
She's making him be very specific and that is just so not his natural state. Decisive? Perhaps, but in certain situations. Actually no, specific isn't even incorrect either - he can be specific. He can be decisive, they're just. They're not what he defaults to - they're survival mechanisms.
That doesn't even make sense, but. Athos bends so far back on himself, thinks himself into corners and twists himself into knots, lets anxiety - occasionally - put a stone in his stomach and sink him to the bottom.
I'm stopping the poetry there, you get the gist.
But she wants - needs, actually, though, because he doesn't think she just wants this. Ever since he's known her he's not been too bad at understanding her and right now she's practically comprised of neon fucking signs. She needs clarity. She's not just asking or demanding it. So he gives it to her, finally. There is a sound from the back of his throat, deep in his chest, that she's never heard and he hasn't heard in a long time - not really a growl but the sort of sound that comes directly before a hard-won response. If that makes literally any sense at all.
"Yes." He pulls her closer towards himself, down against him, even while he turns his face up towards her enough to be close enough to her face for the breath and warmth of their words to register on each others' cheeks. She has her hands in his hair, her fingers at his ports, and he has his breath on her skin, her weight against his hardness. "Yes, I want you." Maybe against the wall here in a minute, maybe just however you want him - he's got preferences but. Well.
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they are a lot of things but 'sweet' isn't typically one of the first adjectives that comes to mind
They're also softer with people who are broken, or people they think can't handle things properly, which isn't exactly the same thing but comes close enough, and it's interesting sometimes to consider that we treat those we love the most the same as we treat innocents and the mentally incapable. Gentleness isn't a response often given to the strong, to the point where it tends to take them the most off-guard of them all.
He thinks too much. He almost preferred the almost-violence of what they were doing before, if only because it afforded less of a chance, not that he couldn't still rise to the occasion.
"I didn't-" mean it like that. Not specifically, anyway, even if he can't particularly argue he's entirely opposed to the idea. There's been quite an odd sort of reaction between them for a while now, one that at some point he just decided to stop attempting to figure out, because people have never really been his strong suit and the ones like her, the ones who have learned to shift and become what they feel like for however long or short a time they wish to, well they're all the more difficult to pin down. He doesn't enjoy the almost inevitable comparison to Anne that some of Juliett's traits draw, but he's not unaware of them. They're not all bad - he did, does, love Anne in the first place, albeit in a very different way than he does Juliett. Still, they're unfair comparisons to begin with.
He's not actually sure he likes having this decision. He wants to, right now he definitely wants to, but. It's worrying on some level. But what's the alternative? Hearing dead lovers haunt them in their thoughts? That tends to go poorly even for well-adjusted people, and if he was thinking too much before, he definitely is now, expression not worried precisely but far less certain than usual.
So in light of that expression it's probably not that surprising that he finally breaks eye contact, looks somewhere over her shoulder instead and gives more or less a non-answer. It's okay, it annoys him too. "Probably a good idea. Not any more than tonight, anyway."
bittersweet
Seeing as normally he's the more sane of them? It's probably best to follow his gut and not. Maybe another time but- she makes no move to leave his lap. While nothing more may come to pass this is...the closeness helps to quiet her ghosts. And while it feels a little lie abandonment when he looks away, a little like lying when he won't give a straight answer she can't truly begrudge him the confusion.
No.
Scratch that.
She can. She has ever been nothing but forthright with him in her own strange way. That he would dodge something so direct as this for the sake of...what? Pride? Propriety? Her feelings? Yes or no. That's what she needs now more than the closeness. Ambiguity in consent is problematic on so many levels and she's never stood for it in the past. She'll not stand for it now.
"Oliver." She'd promised to never, but here she is, one hand curling in his hair to tug his face back so they're eye to eye again. "Yes or no. No is fine. I'll get up, order dinner, and we'll watch something terrible on the network. But you need to be clear. My whole existence is vague insinuation and nuanced, nebulous orders, inferred affection and multiple layers of meaning I had to put up with from Monet. I do not need that here with you."
ah yes that one there we go
If they do it now it's not them sticking it to Monet and Anne, is it? It's them both running from them; it's both he and her allowing themselves to be twisted and torn up by their ex lovers once again and he'd just, he'd rather it not be like that. But maybe it isn't already? Maybe that's not what it would be, maybe it would just be what it is, and maybe he's overthinking it like he overthinks so many other things already. He's been doing it constantly since he first realised she was talking to it, doing it just shy of constantly before that for other less obsessive reasons, and he's evasive now because he can't make up his mind even when literally given a this or that question and Juliett's right to seem dissatisfied with that, he thinks in the split second before she says his name and jerks him right out of those thoughts too.
Olivier, and she barely needed her hand to tug him back to face her because his eyes were seeking hers out already, and they're open and he's still not sure. He stares while he considers this, and then retroactively her explanation hits, and he realises she wants to not be guessing. She wants clarity, and even though he's typically not particularly great at that, he can try. "I want to. We've had -- whatever this is, for a while. I've thought about it. I just don't know if - if it would be because of them or just in spite. I'm just tired of feeling controlled. By them, by... This, I don't know. Everything. To stop thinking." And now he's just doing that aloud, really, which actually isn't what she asked for, might in fact be the opposite of what she asked for to be honest, and he reins it back in. It's a yes or no question, Athos - Olivier, Alpha, whoever you are. Why it has to be his decision, he's not sure, since she's apparently fine with either option. This isn't his field, really. Clearly. "I don't want to order dinner. Or watch the network. That's not going to help." Actually that makes his skin itch and bones fidget beneath tendons alone, and his hands tighten both to stave off the phantom feeling of both of those and just to feel her beneath his palms. "You always help."
I thought so
Yes had been implied, certainly, with how he clung, how he spoke, how he looked at her- but no more implications. No more inferences. No more nuance. No more subtlety. No more fucking complications. Just.
Yes or no.
There is nothing in the world more simple.
u always kno best
That doesn't even make sense, but. Athos bends so far back on himself, thinks himself into corners and twists himself into knots, lets anxiety - occasionally - put a stone in his stomach and sink him to the bottom.
I'm stopping the poetry there, you get the gist.
But she wants - needs, actually, though, because he doesn't think she just wants this. Ever since he's known her he's not been too bad at understanding her and right now she's practically comprised of neon fucking signs. She needs clarity. She's not just asking or demanding it. So he gives it to her, finally. There is a sound from the back of his throat, deep in his chest, that she's never heard and he hasn't heard in a long time - not really a growl but the sort of sound that comes directly before a hard-won response. If that makes literally any sense at all.
"Yes." He pulls her closer towards himself, down against him, even while he turns his face up towards her enough to be close enough to her face for the breath and warmth of their words to register on each others' cheeks. She has her hands in his hair, her fingers at his ports, and he has his breath on her skin, her weight against his hardness. "Yes, I want you." Maybe against the wall here in a minute, maybe just however you want him - he's got preferences but. Well.