sirenspull_logs | late night date

Entry tags:

late night date

Who: judge (

iudex), jury (

littlest_lord) and executioner (

psychopath)
When: oct 15th, wee hours of morning
Where: all over the port right up into Phantomhive manor
Summary: A romantic walk in the Port! Featuring gross flesh wounds and broken curfews. (Oswald goes to pick Jack up for being truant, horrible things ensue.)
Warnings: said gross flesh wounds. Cursing. Gratuitous angst. Possibility of pie gallows.

[jack, all in all, was having a fairly good day. Enjolras was in AGI's hands, he still had til sunrise to sneak back into Phantomhive manor, and hey, no amount of Chain-induced weakness would bring his mood down.

Instead it does, and he's lying on his back on some sidewalk in the middle of Sector 4. His motorcycle's parked across the street, and so is his helmet; Jack's just preoccupied with catching his breath because holy shit, using B. Rabbit was an endeavor in endurance. He couldn't remember it being this hard to use him.

Belatedly, he thinks, he should check up on Oz later. But for now, he'll just lie down on cobblestone at one in the morning and watch the stars. Hopefully he has at least five minutes before any sort of monster approaches (again).]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[jack's already holding the edges of the wound together, blinking up at him through watery eyes because, it stings. It hurts, actually, now that Oswald's said it, and he sighs out.]

Why are you even asking? Goodness.

[he smiles at the bathroom tile. It's a pleasant thought that Oswald could theoretically make him pay for his sins, here in the port; whatever pain the man would give him, jack would take it and cherish it. Perhaps it could be the only thing that is his.]

Just do it. It's just me.

[oswald doesn't shake; watery eyes embed themselves into his memory, and he doesn't whine or shake not even on the inside where everything is cobwebs of emotion and the memories of glen baskerville. he's too old for things like this now, but he still feels the pinpricks of despair crawling over his skin and -

he has to shut this down and reboot on safety mode. this is ridiculous, but he does so hate seeing jack in pain longer than he has to be.

'it's just me.']

[—oh. oh, because that makes it any better?

it's all grit and ground when he frowns.] -that's all that matters to me. [but he finally, steadily, presses the needle through skin - rinse and repeat, his stomach tosses and turns - and he hates this he hates this hehatesthis hehatesthis--]

Just you.

[here, where he's able to say that and have it be complete and utter truth.]

[he flinches and flinches and clenches a hand on Oswald's shoulder; getting stitches is not a fun thing, but if it's Oswald who does it then it's fine.]

You're silly.

[he's dreamt of oswald's hair, many times, of the top of his head. Of his hands. They're as frequent as the ones that have lacie in it; but not all of them are nightmares. He can't comprehend how the other man can say something so-

Silly.]

Y'know, you deserve someone better. [he says it matter-of-factly. w e l l it's not like he's letting oswald go though.] Also, you already smell of blood.

[he's sorry and sorry some more, but it must be done and he can't wait to finish and be done with this so that he can curl up and maybe die. dying sounds like a grand idea right now. it's such a lovely night.

he'd scowl if he weren't so focused on finishing the task at hand. absent-mindedly:]

I'm an idiot. [not silly. master glen called him an idiot, so an idiot he must be.

and even though he... honestly doesn't get that (jack doesn't know what oswald deserves- he just barely knows himself), doesn't catch on immediately, he still manages to give something coherent that it isn't "i don't deserve to exist, honestly".]

I don't know what you're talking about. [he doesn't. (kind of. again, focused on this.) one. last. stitch. unconcerned about himself as he finishes:] -and that's because there is blood on my clothes.

[they soaked it all up like a sponge!]

My Romeo is an idiot.

[softly, and he pulls away, as soon as the thread is cut, and he just- picks at oswald's jacket and tries to push it off. Because he really is a massive idiot because dude why. The cream in his hair is drying out and the blood on oswald's shirt is drying out and- ]

Well, since I sat still for this, you should sit still while I clean you up!

[??] 'Romeo'?

[his name is oswald, not romeo!! you mean the blood on oswald's once white shirt--? he's panicking briefly on the inside as he sets the needle back down, but not pulling himself away even if he might want to throw his hands up like slow down dude you don't want to see the damage.

he feels like he needs to cover his ears, especially with the way that jack reacted to him being hurt in the first place. or jump out of a window. or die. the pain is coming back to him as he moves that shoulder (or, honestly, that side in general).

fight or flight, on! jacket.. off... darting his eyes down and wow that does look like it was life threatening once, doesn't it? aaa well.]

...are you sure? [if jack lets him do it, he'll honestly just sit out shirtless the entire night and let the wound heal like that. but, hm.]

[and jack hopes Oswald will never find out what the reference is for!! He can settle for watching Jack's expressions chase themselves all over his face.

First is surprise.]

[horror, as shaking fingers drift down to the front of his bloody gross blood-crusted oh god why is there so much blood, why- jack states at him and his wounds and he wants to throw up.]

[and here is where Oswald should cover his ears because he opens his mouth to yell and wail and scream at his idiot of a best friend and

nothing comes out. Words won't. Sounds won't. He chokes on air and guilt and he's like a fallen man in his death throes.]

[he clutches with pale sticky fingers at oswald's arms, curling into his sleeves, and he curls up into himself like he's ashamed to look at oswald in the face. (he is.)]

I-I--

I'm sorry.

[this was his fault. Tears drip into the blood pooling on floor, ink in water, and jack wants to die.]

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry--

[surprise, horror, eardrum shattering anger he understands and even prepared for, but it's when jack clutches at him that he stares down in concern again. he's apologizing and it's all really strange because this honestly isn't jack's fault.

it's oswald's fault.

oswald's fault, his mistake, his lesson, his wound, his blood, his reasons, and not jack's responsibility. that's how it has always been.]

[and he's moving a hand to slowly slide up and over jack's skin in something he hopes is reassuring, silently slipping up to cup jack's cheek and turn it up so that when he leans over he can nuzzle at jack's forehead.] Why are you crying?

[and, gently pressing a kiss there. comfort and comfort alone, this, and he moves his other hand to lay it over jack's.]

This is not your fault. [...it hurts to admit it, but:] I seem to have grown careless after what happened in Somarium.

[it's true. it was pure carelessness because he was far more focused on finding jack than he was on finding jack unscathed. it won't happen again.]

[did oswald just

kiss

him on the forehead

why this, oswald??

his brain shuts down because um what just happened.]

[he takes a breath and:]

Careless?! You're bleeding all over! Your shirt is red and it was white, lord I-heal-anyway-so-it's-okay-if-i-get-hurt!

[jack prods him in the shoulder with every exclamation. Well, there's his shrieking.]

Why am I crying, he asks! Why am I crying?! Who wouldn't cry in this situation!? You're hurt and you look like you've been shredded because you followed me out and you're hurt because of me and I already have too much of your blood on my hands and, and-

[BREATHES.]

Just because you're a Baskerville doesn't mean you've not to care if you're hurt or wounded or- [his eyes shine suspiciously again,] You're an idiot. Don't think kisses make it better! Kiss me when you're not injured and bleeding everywhere! Idiot!

[and he'll just! tug! at his shirt! angrily!

ignore his face, it's red because he's angry okay. Not because he just realized what he said.]

[--and then there comes the shrieking and why didn't oswald cover his ears? he listens, :Ts, waiting for jack to be done, and shoulder prodding why. oswald wisely does not open his mouth any time that jack pauses for breath and oswald lets jack's words swim in his head along with the voices of glen

(laughing at him)

before he starts.. to sway...... and squint............

NO HE IS NOT GOING TO PASS OUT this will not be a thing and his mind latches onto words, digests them, and then there's tugging on his shirt and he absently drops his hands and closes his eyes.]

I know people who wouldn't cry. [matter of fact - lacie is the first to come to mind.] I'm hurt because I was careless - there have been worse wounds. Don't blame yourself.

[suddenly really, really glad jack wasn't there when he took that hit from that noctaere ahahaha.. ha......]

I'll not die before I've returned to Sablier, Jack. This body is to be used for something. [because oswald thinks of himself as a thing, of course.] You-

[...wh

a

t......

wait no rewind did jack just... say that......]

[..................................................]

[stares at jack.

stare. at him. so. much. and then, completely serious, he nods.

g o t c h a. he'll do that in the morning he decides, moving away and starting to unbutton and discard his torn red-once-white shirt. ick let's... not go out with white button ups. let's not do that anymore. that was a bad idea.]

[meanwhile jack hides his face by starting to run the bath, warm water on his wrist and he kneels beside the tub, dipping his hand in it.

Didn't Oswald liken him to water, a long, long time ago...?

He decides not to think about the nod (no u, he'll kiss Oswald first if he can help it) and he sniffs at the water instead, offended at life. Life with Oswald. Life is complicated. His forehead is still warm.]

You're mine anyway. [he tells the water, before looking back up at the other man.] Get in here. [he stares pointedly at the ceiling.] I'll not look.

[he lets that happen! his plans are to fully kick jack out of the bathroom if he tries to honestly bathe him anyway (because... no... oswald isn't five and he's not crippled), and he hears that sniff and can't help looking over his shoulder. hmmm.

blood and cream and shirt on the floor, then. there'll be a lot of cleanup to do and oswald wants to stretch, but that would just hurt.

he's still able to look at jack like he's strange (and he is) and ask,] What makes you think that I'm yours-

[SHAKING HIS HEAD while the glens inside of him get a nice laugh out of it, though. oswald baskerville belongs to glen baskerville; that's something that was drilled into his head on day one. his body and soul are no longer his.]

- or that I'll let you bathe me? [affronted!! B(((] I'm not -

[and then he glances at the bath tub.

.........

................... 8T

and just. quietly. slips back over to jack and leans over to snatch him by the waist and QUICKLY UPROOT HIM FROM HIS PERCH to just gently lift mr. pie in my hair into the bath

with him.

c: sweet, sweet water.]

[jack makes a faint dying noise once he realizes what has happened, and he's already in the tub, wet with legs everywhere and why is this happening? How did oswald make that leap of logic that 'get in here' meant 'dump jack there'?]

What....

[once again Oswald utterly befuddles Jack, and he sits in the water like a drowned Pomeranian with hair plastered to his head and shoulders. He stares at Oswald before lunging for him, hands on either side of his head, clenched fingers on the rim of the tub.]

That wasn't fair at all! [their knees knock together under the pink water and clouds of pie in Jack's hair, floating up.] What was that for?!

[yes, yes, cry oswald some invisible pie tears that actually taste like pie. oswald is just going to chill here for a minute and valiantly try not to flinch when the water hits his wounds, dazed for all of half a second before jack splashes into action.

suddenly his personal space?? and the- pie, that's right. aaaa.]

You wouldn't leave the bathroom even if I asked you to, I know - and you were making a claim. I had no other choice.

[so instead of watching the blood mix with the water, he reaches up to start tugging at jack's plait.] Come, now - turn around and sit. [ah.] And keep your arm out of the water.

[yeah, he's

he's definitely ordering jack around now. he wants to start unplaiting this pie'd mess so that he can wash it, okay....]

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done flies into space bye

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done brb dyin

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