Agent Washington (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
notthesecondworstfighter) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ataraxionlogs2014-01-13 01:56 pm
notthesecondworstfighter) wrote in ataraxionlogs2014-01-13 01:56 pm
Entry tags:
[open]
CHARACTERS: Agent Washington and You!
LOCATION: The bar
WARNINGS: Drinking. Angsting. Probable cursing. Fun stuff, right
SUMMARY: In realizing that on top of everything else awful on this ship, his friend and...sort-of friends are all gone, Wash decides to hit the bar to maybe get wasted. Or at least to grump around and frown at everyone.
It's taken a pretty impressive amount of time, but he's finally hit the end of his patience with Tranquility.
Of course, he's hated it from day one, hated being brought here out of nowhere, being trapped, being toyed with like they all have. But this is the final straw. When he realized that everyone he knew from "home" is gone, excepting perhaps the one he'd like to be gone, that was it. He was angry, incredibly so. It was the one thing that was kind of okay about the place, the fact that Tex, Church, Delta, and especially York were here. They were familiar, not to mention people he'd lost back home. The fact that they were alive again here... It was like the one perk. But now he's alone again, and it's both the most frustrating and distressing thing. And he's not exactly sure how to deal with it.
It crosses his mind to break something, but is there really any point to smashing things around this place? It's not as though he can do the amount of damage he'd like to, and it would likely end up leaving him more frustrated. Besides, he's not entirely petulant, he reminds himself that he's capable of controlling himself. As appealing as doing some damage sounds about now.
He supposes that he could stick to his room and just angst away, but that's unproductive, and it's already here he spends most of his time. So in the end he heads down to the bar to get a much needed drink. Or several. He's avoided complete intoxication since he got here, always wanting to be ready in the event that something happens, but tonight? Tonight he decides he doesn't give a fuck because he's got too much on his mind that he simply doesn't want to deal with.
So that's exactly where he finds himself now. Sitting, quite alone, in the corner of the bar, a beer grasped tightly in one hand, with the empty bottle he finished not long ago sitting off to the side. He's in his ship's uniform, but about now he's wishing he'd just shoved himself into his armour because the bar is freezing. Hindsight. But he ignores the cold as best he can, just sitting stiffly, aggressively trying to avoid his own thoughts and failing as he occasionally takes a long pull from the bottle in his hand. He'll glance over when he notices someone else around, but mostly he takes to ignoring everything. Because maybe he's a little petulant at times. But no one ever said he had healthy ways of coping with things.
LOCATION: The bar
WARNINGS: Drinking. Angsting. Probable cursing. Fun stuff, right
SUMMARY: In realizing that on top of everything else awful on this ship, his friend and...sort-of friends are all gone, Wash decides to hit the bar to maybe get wasted. Or at least to grump around and frown at everyone.
It's taken a pretty impressive amount of time, but he's finally hit the end of his patience with Tranquility.
Of course, he's hated it from day one, hated being brought here out of nowhere, being trapped, being toyed with like they all have. But this is the final straw. When he realized that everyone he knew from "home" is gone, excepting perhaps the one he'd like to be gone, that was it. He was angry, incredibly so. It was the one thing that was kind of okay about the place, the fact that Tex, Church, Delta, and especially York were here. They were familiar, not to mention people he'd lost back home. The fact that they were alive again here... It was like the one perk. But now he's alone again, and it's both the most frustrating and distressing thing. And he's not exactly sure how to deal with it.
It crosses his mind to break something, but is there really any point to smashing things around this place? It's not as though he can do the amount of damage he'd like to, and it would likely end up leaving him more frustrated. Besides, he's not entirely petulant, he reminds himself that he's capable of controlling himself. As appealing as doing some damage sounds about now.
He supposes that he could stick to his room and just angst away, but that's unproductive, and it's already here he spends most of his time. So in the end he heads down to the bar to get a much needed drink. Or several. He's avoided complete intoxication since he got here, always wanting to be ready in the event that something happens, but tonight? Tonight he decides he doesn't give a fuck because he's got too much on his mind that he simply doesn't want to deal with.
So that's exactly where he finds himself now. Sitting, quite alone, in the corner of the bar, a beer grasped tightly in one hand, with the empty bottle he finished not long ago sitting off to the side. He's in his ship's uniform, but about now he's wishing he'd just shoved himself into his armour because the bar is freezing. Hindsight. But he ignores the cold as best he can, just sitting stiffly, aggressively trying to avoid his own thoughts and failing as he occasionally takes a long pull from the bottle in his hand. He'll glance over when he notices someone else around, but mostly he takes to ignoring everything. Because maybe he's a little petulant at times. But no one ever said he had healthy ways of coping with things.
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"No. No, that's not selfish." It's kind of the complete opposite, actually. If anything shows that she really cares about him, it's her doing this. Giving him a piece of her home. Something to show him that...he's not alone. Not entirely. He still has Juliana. And she still cares about him. He still has no idea why, considering his behaviour toward her in the beginning, but...he's glad. Because she's become important to him somehow. Another thing he's not certain how to explain, but...he cares. And not only is this gesture of hers incredibly meaningful, it reminds him that he's not as alone as he thinks he is.
"You don't have to..." He trails off before he can get the 'do this' part out, the words just sort of falling as his gaze drops to the piece of the Rubble again. It's a big gesture from her. He gets that. He understands, and he appreciates it more than he even knows how to convey, or maybe even realizes himself in that moment. For a few long moments, he's silent, but eventually he speaks up again, voice quieter now. "Thank you."
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The fact is that she likes his gruffness, somehow. She likes that she's slowly chipped away at his reservations and discovered a good man (in her opinion) beneath it all. There's just something appealing about someone who wants to hide everything from someone who wants to know everything. If she can make his secrets be strung out forever, if there is always something new to learn, she'll be happy. That's what she wants from him, the mystery, the stoic moments right alongside the near-petulant ones. It occurs to her that right now what she wants to do is wrap her arms around him, rub a hand over his back and tell him that it's okay, that she's here, that as long as they're both working together, everything will be okay. It's strange, but it's how she feels.
"You're welcome." She sounds surprised by her own words, by the turn of events. Ducking her head, she sighs. "I... thought it might help. I broke it a little while ago, and I've kept that piece in my pocket. I still have the rest, of course."
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He listens quietly as she tells him more about it, and he realizes he hadn't even known she had a piece of the Rubble here, much less that it had broken. It does, however, console his concern over the idea that she's giving him the only piece of her home that she has, because she's not. She has more, but she's...chosen to give him this piece.
"It does help." His voice is practically a murmur at this point, while he's still...trying to sort out what he's feeling right about now. Not to mention how he's supposed to repay her for this, or show his appreciation. He has half a mind to reach across the table and take her hand or something--something they've done before, some way he can better convey his thanks--but he thinks that might just be his drink talking. Maybe.
Something she said before hits him again though, and has him glancing back over at her, brow furrowing. "...You said you were going to give it to me anyway. Why?"
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She moves her hands to her lap for a moment, fidgeting before she picks up her drink and takes a lingering sip. Maybe it's not obvious, that she cares, that she wants him around and needs him as well. That would be selfish. It would be making this about herself, which it isn't, and she's forcing it not to be. Fighting her erroring programming, fighting that piece of her mind that doesn't want to cooperate, she forces a smile.
"I care about you. You're important to me, and I don't want you to forget me if something happens. When I..." Another drink. "If I go home, I won't be anything, but the Rubble... what's left of it will still be there, probably for a very long time. Maybe it's in pieces, certainly, but part of it hasn't gone. Part if it will be with me, and now... I suppose with you." There's a soft sigh that escapes her lips, and she fixes him with an admiring gaze and a soft smile.
"Besides, you'e given me so much hope that I wanted to give you a piece of mine." It's probably too sentimental, too much too soon--too soon for what?--but it is what it is, and she's said what she needed to say.
"It was a triumph of man over the attempt at complete annihilation. Our home, our Rubble. I thought... I just thought somehow..." Hand shaking, she reaches across the table toward him, as though she's going to touch his cheek.
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But she's not like that. He doesn't know how he knows, but he just knows. It's the way she's presented herself, the way she opened herself up to him so quickly and so honestly, the way she's here for him now, giving him this important item... He knows her. He knows he can trust her. And he knows that she means what she's saying, as surprising and baffling as it is that she could end up caring about him.
And then she goes on to remind him of yet another thing he's forgotten in the moment. That she's just like York, Delta, everyone that disappeared. She's not alive back home. If she leaves, that's it, she's gone again, and gone for good. He pales slightly, realizing only now that what he's said, it must have reminded her of this very fact, and it must be distressing to realize. It must be awful, and he hadn't even taken her feelings into consideration. And yet, she's still here, still trying to help him, and giving him this... This thing that's so meaningful...
He feels like a complete asshole, now. Too caught up in his own grief to realize that he's causing his only remaining friend just as much, if not more. Closing his hand tightly around the rock in his hand, he averts his gaze from her face, only growing more ashamed as she goes on to tell him that he's given her hope. God only knows how he managed to do that, considering he's got little to none of his own left.
"What?" He asks, daring to look into her face once more. Her hand coming toward him is a surprise, but something stops him from moving away. He's not sure what it is, but some...emotion, some something keeps him where he is, and should her hand continue toward his face and touch his cheek, he'll allow it. He'll allow it, and his own free hand reaches up to grasp gently at her wrist, almost as though to keep her hand in place, or to just...maybe get some contact. It's not something he really thought about before doing it. "You thought somehow what?"
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"I thought you would understand." Her hand rests on his cheek, fingers curved against his skin as he grips her wrist. Maybe he'd understand what it's like to lose everything and maybe she could share her misery and that desperate sense of loneliness. Maybe someone else is missing a piece of themselves, too.
"You understand me already, don't you? Even when I confuse you, you seem to take things in stride. You never run away, you never desert me or cast me off. I've slept in your room and you've held my hand. To be perfectly frank..." A sigh, and she draws her hand back slightly. "...if you're willing to call me a friend, I'll gladly be one. I'm trying, right now, even if I'm usually incredibly self-centered and possibly slightly delusional."
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"I think...we're more alike than we realize." Keeping his grip on her wrist loose, he leaves her the option to pull her hand away fully if she wants, or to keep it where it is. If she wanted, he'll even just go to holding her hand if she wants. Somehow, the contact is almost comforting in a way. Keeps him in the moment. A stronger reminder that there really is someone here for him.
"I'm trying, too. Even if I'm closed off and constantly bitter." Holding her gaze across the table, he blinks slowly, looking almost determined now. If they're talking about this, then he's going to make sure to get it across to her that he cares. He wants her to know it, even when he doesn't necessarily show it well all the time. "I already consider you a friend, and I'm glad to have you."
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"I think you're right. And I think I'd be really worried if you were gone." Frowning, she eases her hand back toward his cheek for a moment. "You have been so good to me, better than anyone I've ever known. I don't say that lightly, but you care, don't you? Thank you for trying, for being you and being that with me." But that prompts a slow smile. He cares. He must. And he'd miss her if she left just as much as she'd miss him. She'd fight the people in charge to get him back, if she had to. If all his friends were dead, what if he was too?
The urge grows stronger to do something ridiculous, and she tips her head to the side as she considers. Then, with little hesitation, she pulls her hand back and eases it out of his grip, only to wrap her fingers around his. A deep breath precedes her standing, moving over to the other side of the table and leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. Well, if he doesn't move away.
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But now, the number was one. And that was enough. More than enough, really. Even if it doesn't change the fact that he's lost people here, it does manage to cheer him some. He doesn't deserve someone as kind as Juliana to care so much about him, but he's not about to turn it away.
He's about to reply to her, to tell her that she's right. Again. That he does care. That he'd be worried about her if anything happened to her here, that he'd miss her if she disappeared. He wants to say something that at least alluded to all of that, but something in her expression stops him. Just for a moment. A brief pause as he watches her with curiosity, finding it only growing when she stands, but takes hold of his hand.
Well. It's a shock when she leans in and presses her lips to his cheek, that's for sure. He's sort of dumbfounded, can't do anything beyond just sitting there, blinking for a good few seconds. It's not the first time she's done this, but it's just as surprising as it had been the last time. Honestly, he doesn't know what to make of it, and the alcohol he's already consumed isn't exactly making it easier to figure it out.
"...You're welcome." He manages finally, peering up at her, not letting her hand go. Then he's on his feet too, standing in front of her because it's too awkward to be sitting while whatever this is is going on, and he tries to catch and hold her gaze. "Thank you."
He doesn't clarify just what he's thanking her for. He can't, there's too much to list off, and he's sure he'd forget some of them even if he tried. But something tells him she'll understand. Even if she still doesn't know all that much about him, he doesn't throw thanks around easily. He means this. He's honestly thankful for her. Just...her. Which is something he never thought he'd be feeling when he first met her. It's funny the unexpected direction things can go.
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Jai is important to her, but Jai is a Spartan. Jai is made of duty and purpose on one hand, adventure and danger on the other. He'll always be there for her, but she can't imagine actually speaking with him like this, understanding him on more than that basic surface level, the one that says Spartans are modern knights and paladins, and he will be her champion, but nothing more. She can sleep on his floor and help him with things and maybe sometimes even come to him when she's afraid, but it isn't like this.
Wash is special. That's an interesting revelation for her. Not special in that he's unique--every human is--and therefore unlike anyone she's ever met or dealt with. He's special to her, and knowing that that transcends just worry and care that she's shown so far is a revelation she isn't sure she knows what to do with. Processing it is hard, and a flicker of confusion must surely pass over her features as she considers things. How can she care this much in such a selfless way? She wants him here for her, but she wants more than that for him to be happy, to be safe, cared for, and well.
Even in the sorrow they're sharing, his sadness that she's trying not to reflect, there's a little joy that comes to her with his reaction. She hadn't meant for him to feel the need to stand, and was in fact about to take her leave to go break down into a ball of miserable despair at knowing how nothingness suddenly means something to her. Before, being deactivated or destroyed was logical, even if a bit curious and foreign. Now there's that fear of cessation of existence, of not having experienced all the things she wants and needs to, which makes her want to cling tightly to those she cares for and not let go.
With a glance down, she releases his hands and moves to slip her arms around him, offering support and comfort to the best of her ability. She's not light and data anymore. She's flesh and blood and bone and warmth and she can hold people and tell them it will be okay even when it won't. Is this how her donor felt in life? Did they cherish moments like this too, feeling wanted and needed? Some great engineer or physicist holding someone they care for in their arms; there's a latent memory of that somewhere.
"You've been here for me this whole time. While I've found my feet, you know. Learned to become human and to transcend programming flaws and my own issues. Please don't feel a need to thank me. This is simply what I can do in return." Her gaze meets his, even if she has to tip her head or move his chin to chase it, to find it, and all she can do is stare into his eyes as she contemplates everything that's happened since she arrived. How did she even get attached to someone? She has friends, good ones, dear ones, but none of them have become this. It's slightly frightening to be so attached.
Her heart beats madly, which surprises her. She should be sad, subdued, but instead there's something exciting about this, something making her nervous and uncertain. On some level she enjoys this new feeling, though. Being close to him apparently suits her more than before, and this closeness brings her joy and comfort she didn't even realize she needed. Tension begins to release from her back as she looks at him, and she sighs quietly. Everything about him is soothing, even his grumpiness, yes, and the little ways he gets uncomfortable when she lets herself get carried away. It's all familiar now, and something in her head--she fervently hopes it isn't the rampancy--gives her the notion to stop staring into his eyes and to take a glance down to his lips. It's an impulse, and not one she's sure she'll give in to, but it's there. All she has to do is lean in and see if he pushes her away.
There's a long silence, on her end, as she contemplates this. Making him truly uncomfortable is the last thing she honestly wants to do, and now is probably the wrong time for her to confess that she needs him the way she does, but everything has lined up and this compulsion is trying so hard to break through.
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As he listens to her speak then, he finds his own arms moving forward, slipping around her in turn. The gift she's given him is still gripped tight in his hand, and he just...listens. Again, he finds himself uncertain of how to respond to her words. She makes him sound like such a nice person, like he's better than he knows he is. How is one even supposed to respond to that? And her telling him not to thank her, she makes it sound like she hasn't done plenty of things for him. Hell, she's keeping him sane right now, keeping him from drinking himself into oblivion, from going and doing something stupid out of grief. Does she even know the things she's done for him here? She's one of the few things that's made his time on the ship bearable, and now she's all he's got...
Wash has never been great at gauging his own emotions. Sure, he knows when he's angry or upset, but things deeper than that...they get overlooked. They get jumbled into a pile and confuse him when he tries to sort them out, or take him too long to realize what should maybe be completely obvious. In this moment, he's noticed some feelings he hasn't been sure what to label, but with everything Juliana's said, the way she's just watching him, so close to him... It almost feels like there's some sort of gentle electricity coursing through him, some kind of nervousness that he's not entirely sure of why it's present, but it's a good kind of nervousness. Something he hasn't felt in... Well. He's not even sure.
He catches her eyes drifting away from his, sliding down to look at his lips. For a moment, he just watches her watching them, his mind buzzing with an assortment of conflicting orders, all moving too quickly for him to really get any sort of grip on. Maybe it's the booze, he tells himself, as he finds himself slowly leaning in. Maybe that's what's causing this...whole thing. He knows it's not, but maybe it's what helps him follow his gut than try to sort through this all rationally. But rational thought is, for the time being, cast aside as his face is suddenly inches away from hers. Their breath mingling between them, the fact that she's here, that she cares...it's all encouragement. Before he even fully realizes it, he pushes all the way in, his eyes sliding slowly closed as he catches her lips gently with his own.
It's an impulse. Not one that he would generally go along with without any thought, but he's caught up in the moment, in her, and if he's honest, it's a surprise, even to him. But he's careful, soft with it, because even if it is an impulse, he's pretty sure this is her first experience with anything like this, and...he doesn't want to scare her off. Hopefully he hasn't.
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It wouldn't do to keep looking at his lips, and she's about to shy away, looking back at his eyes just as he makes that move. Her arms tighten around him as he leans in, her own eyes closing in anticipation. Unsure as to what to do, she leans her body lightly against his and waits for his cues, figures out what to do besides just resting her lips against his.
It's so warm, comfortable and right, and she can't imagine ever wanting to be any further away from him than this. Certainly she's just dramatically caught up in the moment, in this comfort and closeness, and she knows he'll probably deny everything at some point, but for now, she'll settle in and learn. Her arms tighten around him a bit, fingers stroking down his spine and resting at his lower back as she decidedly loses all interest in the outside world. He's the center of her universe for the moment, and she won't be the one to break things off. It'll only do to follow his lead, whatever he does.
And she's never felt so important since she arrived, so honestly needed and wanted and so warmly embraced. Wash is something else, and now he's crossed an unspoken line that's going to make her even more attached, more fretful and protective, but that's okay. She hopes now that they will feel even more comfortable with each other, spend more time together, quiet moments, not just crises and worries.
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It's clear she has no idea what to do, but that's fine. He's not an expert at anything romantic to say the least, but he knows the basic. He knows how to kiss. He can lead this thing. Movements kept slow, Wash shifts his lips over hers softly, just to ease her into this whole thing. Since it's apparently happening. Not something he'd ever foreseen, but hey. He's trying to avoid actual thinking for right now. Instead, he keeps his focus on her, on the closeness, that closeness that he doesn't often crave but that he can't deny he's enjoying it now.
As if to show this, it's not long before his arms around her tighten, just a tiny bit, and he pulls her in just a touch closer. The fingers of the hand not still gripping the small piece of the rubble splay carefully out against her back. Since he's not the best at physical contact, and not one to constantly give it, maybe he figures that one of the times he actually decides to, he might as well go all out. Or, as close to all out as he can come for now.
A slow exhale, and he realizes he doesn't want to let her go. Not yet. He feels a bit ridiculous, sort of stupidly needy in the moment, but god help him if she isn't making him feel better despite everything that's happened lately. He can afford to be like this once in a while, right? And he trusts her enough to actually be like this with her, that's clear in the fact that he's.. Well. He's kissing her.
Oh. He's kissing her. Juliana. The once-AI that he's somehow befriended and maybe having confusing feelings for. The new-to being human Juliana who's never been kissed before. ...This isn't overwhelming her, is it?
Concerned now, Wash breaks the kiss. Admittedly, it's done so...pretty reluctantly. But he wants to make sure she's okay with this. That he didn't just take her by surprise and confused her. Blinking his eyes open, he pulls his head back, albeit not too far from hers, and just watches her for a second, not sure what to say. About any of what just happened, or the fact that he's still holding her. The only thing that comes to mind is...
"...Sorry."
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This is emotion, this is feeling, this isn't just two people standing here somewhat awkwardly in each other's arms, like she'd thought it might be. It's elation mingled with the sorrow of his loss, the joy of a new experience mixed with the fear that he'll discover all that's wrong if she lets him get so close. The hand on her back soothes her, pulls her closer both physically and mentally, and she can already feel the more logical parts of her brain quietly fading into the background as something electric courses through her.
Of course, it's then that he stops.
Her eyelids flutter open during the silence and she frowns, wondering whatever she must have done wrong. She's about to ask when he apologizes. ...So she asks anyway.
"Did I do something wrong?" Concern rushes to her features that were so sublimely calm just a moment before. They're still close, and she still feels more connected to him than she's ever felt to another being. Letting go isn't in her plans, nor is leaving, nor is doing anything but existing here in this admittedly small space with her. No one else is here to see, after all. This was his own private wake, and she simply intruded.
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"I was just worried that I might have done something wrong." He admits, his eyes fixated on her face, taking in her expression. She did frown when he stopped the kiss... And asking if she did something wrong, that meant she was worried, right? Which meant...she'd been enjoying it? Right? Otherwise she might be looking at him more confused or astonished or...who even knows. But instead she looks concerned. That, and she's not moving away, still holding onto him.
"I wasn't sure if you'd be okay with...all that." Not that it was exactly a big step up from holding hands, which they'd done a number of times now. Maybe it was just bound to happen, and maybe he shouldn't have bothered to stop the kiss at all. Since he had though, it's better to make sure she's good with it, right? Not that they'll necessarily do it again. ...Or will they? While part of him doubts it's a good idea to get tangled up in whatever this is, the rest of him enjoyed the connection they'd just had. Enjoyed it and wouldn't mind getting back to it. Patience is something he holds onto though, continuing to watch her carefully, to just get an idea of what it had been like for her, and if it's something they should endeavour into again or not.
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"I'm okay with it!" She's almost too quick to respond, smiling sweetly and blinking at him as though trying to wake from something. Maybe it's not real, and this is all some rampant dream. Of course she'd been enjoying the closeness, something she'd asked for before. Holding him, being near him were things she wanted and still wants now. This is blissful. He can't stop now.
"Would you..." How does she word this so she doesn't seem needy or desperate? She's curious to a degree, but more than that he brings her a great satisfaction, and her urge to get closer to him intensifies with each passing day. It has, and she assumes it always will, at this point. Maybe she'll never have more than this moment. Maybe it's the drinking and the sadness and he's just trying to get something out of his system, but she's going to keep telling herself that no. She is special. She's important to him on a level he's reserved only for someone so dear that he feels like he can accept them, just like this. He took the piece of the Rubble that he was offered, and she sent her heart and her good wishes with it. This is the best thank you she could possibly imagine.
"Would you please do that again? Or should I? I'm not opposed to trying to start it."
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She wants him to kiss her again. Or she wants to kiss him. The fact that she's asking, as well as the lingering response of being okay with the whole thing and the way it was done...it's...funny. Funny in a completely cute way.
Funny in such a cute way that, in spite of everything, Wash smiles. It's slight and amused, but it's accompanied with a huff of an exhale that's...well. Something of a laugh. He can't help it. Man, what she can do to him. It's unbelievable. She can make him smile in his darkest moment here, make him forget about his troubles momentarily, something no one has managed to do. She's special. She's damn special. And it's definitely not the drinks or his sadness telling him that.
"Yeah," he says, voice quieter now. "I can do it again." He doesn't have a problem with the idea of her starting it, but he's plenty happy to initiating it himself again. So he does. Raising his hand from her back, he carefully pushes a few wisps of her hair that's not caught in her ponytail away from her face, tucking what he can behind his ear. It's...a more tender action than he's really used to doing, but hell, he's kissing her and holding her right now, so it's not like it can hurt to brush the hair out of her face, right? Besides it's totally useful, it keeps her hair out of the way. ...Not that he needs an excuse to do it...
His hand moves back then, returning to where it was on her back, and as he continues to gaze down at her, he moves in for the second time. The space between them is much less than the first time, so he doesn't keep her waiting long at all; soon enough his lips find hers again, and he picks them up right where they left off.
no subject
A little flutter of nervousness and warmth works its way through her as he brushes her hair aside, the touch tickling her cheek. She draws in a short, nervous breath and chuckles ever so slightly, trying to keep her composure. Goodness knows a goddess doesn't get giddy. Certainly Juliana doesn't not over something as simple as a kiss.
Nope, she's giddy. Her eyes are wide and watery, and she's watching him expectantly even at this close distance. But the closer he gets, the calmer she feels, and she closes her eyes even before he's made the move to kiss her again. When he does, though, when he presses his lips to hers, a thrill runs through her unlike anything she's felt as a human, the rush of exploration, of new knowledge, of embracing an experience. Her body's weight goes against him for a moment, and she can't seem to get comfortable with the way she's standing until she finally stops trying to hold him with both arms and raises one hand to rest on his cheek. With a delicate touch, she runs her hand up to the side of his head, fingers trailing through his hair as she lets him lead.
She won't be the one to break this or stop, and she certainly won't complain if they keep going for quite some time.
no subject
Pulling away isn't something he's planning to do, not yet. Certainly not as quickly as last time, anyway. This is good, it feels good, and...what the hell. He might as well enjoy something, right? And if she's enjoying it too, all the more reason.
While his attention is, admittedly, mostly on their lips, he sacrifices enough to be aware of how close they still are, as well as both of their hands. So when she moves one of hers, he notices, and he's pleased with the result, honestly. It had been nice having both of her arms around him, but her hand on his cheek, then moving to the side of his head is almost better, in a way. It feels closer. And there's just some sort of inherently good feeling about someone's fingers running through your hair.
In fact, after a few moments, he takes her action as a sign that he should be doing more than just hugging her in close. Nice as that is, if they're really going to stand here and kiss, there's more he can do. Slowly, carefully, he moves the hand still grasping her gift around to his pocket, and slips it inside so he can get full use out of both hands. With it deposited and his hand free, he's quick to bring it back to her, though this time, it goes to rest at her hip. It's a careful touch, in part because it's...been a long time since he's done anything like this, or touched someone in a more intimate way, and part to just be sure she's okay with it. Still, within a few moments, the hand glides slowly up along her side, light enough that it can easily be pulled away in an instant, and comes to a rest on the side of her ribcage.
This is decidedly not where he'd expected things to go tonight, or ever, but...he's pretty damn okay with it. Which maybe surprises him a little. But Juliana's always been full of surprises.
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And then his hand is at her hip and she shivers a bit, pressing into the kiss a little more, lips moving more firmly and she gives him every permission, every cue to deepen the kiss to his heart's delight. This is almost too much, and she flinches as his hand moves up, but if he even tries to back off, she'll pull him close again. This is miraculous. She's warm and tingly and she feels safe and content.
Please, don't stop. Don't let this end.
She doesn't have to be afraid of cessation, of leaving, of anything being wrong. She has someone she can care for and protect and who is willing to be this close to her. Wash is what she supposes she's needed: not a charity case, but a friend, confidant, and companion. He fits the bill, and if she ever decides to stop kissing him in public, she'll let him know that. That's not even on the table right now. Teetering a bit, almost honestly lightheaded, she has to break the kiss for a moment, laughing quietly.
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He's not sure how far to take it, though. This whole thing is new; yes, he's kissed people before, but he's never kissed someone new at being human, someone who doesn't necessarily know how things go. Should he progress things? Or just keep things as they are, because even if it's simple, it's pretty damn great. This is all something he maybe thinks more on than one really should in the middle of a situation that's all kissing and holding, but he's broken partway off the train of thought as he feels Juliana's lips moving off his to laugh.
"What?" He asks on a breath, eyes cracking open just slightly to look at her. The laugh doesn't stop him from pressing in for another quick kiss, just a little peck, because even if they're going to talk, he's not quite ready to let her lips go. "What's funny?"
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She's never had this sort of a feeling, and she isn't eager to give it up. Maybe they ought to stop, though, and maybe she ought to try to sort herself out before she takes up too much of his time. Suddenly, being human is a wonderful thing, and being with him has been elevated to something she won't be able to stop thinking about for some time.
She drops her voice to a whisper. "I can't believe you kissed me."
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Well. It's better for now if he doesn't go thinking about it too much. Right now, he just wants to focus on it, on the good feeling, the one that's shared. It's the best he's felt in far too long, so no, he doesn't particularly want to give it up just yet. If only they could just stay in this moment for longer than he knows it's going to last.
"I...can't really believe it either," he murmurs back, turning his head ever so slightly so he can mouth a few kisses along her jaw. It's so much more affectionate than he generally finds acceptable, god goddamnit, if they're going to be here, he's going to make the most of it for however long it lasts. "I wasn't planning on it, but you just... I don't know. You're different."
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It's not really evident why, but she simply assumes she's been lonely in a lot of ways and become attached. Maybe Wash isn't emotional or willing to show her that much, but it's more than anyone else really does, different, sweeter. Staying here, like this, is a dream.
"I'm different?" She sighs happily at the kisses, mirroring them as she traces a hand along the other side of his jaw. "You are, too. I didn't know I needed that. Wanted it. From you." She gets the sense that it's better when things aren't planned, when she suddenly and unexpectedly gets caught up and he carries her away.
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"I can't say I knew that, either." When he speaks, it's a bit muffled against her skin, and man does he ever want to stay that way, but...after a moment, he pulls away. Only enough space is put between their faces that he can peer down at her, but he still finds he wants to push through it all and kiss her again. It can wait though, at least a few seconds. "I think it's good though. That we found out." Because already he has no idea what he'd do here without her. Especially now that's she's his only friendly face left. "It's nice to have a good surprise once in a while."
But that's getting a little sappy for his tastes. As nice as the situation is, he's not quite ready to wax poetic. So, with that, he moves back in slowly, hand sliding further up her back as he seeks her lips out again. This situation is one he wants to keep enjoying for as long as he can, because he's not sure what's going to happen after, if it's going to happen again. If all of his dreams weren't nightmares, he'd be sure this isn't really happening as it is, because it seems so...unbelievable.
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