Fic: Miasma (Smoke and Mirrors #5)
Title: Miasma
Series: Smoke and Mirrors #5
Rating: PG13
Pairing: Gunn/Lindsey
Spoilers/Timeline: Set some vague place between Epiphany and Dead End.
Note: This is a big shiny present with Lar's name on it.
Summary: The guys take stock of, well, each other.
*
There's a whole lot of reasons why Gunn does this thing he does with Lindsey, why he guesses Lindsey does it back. It's about Angel and it's about Darla; it's about AI and it's about Wolfram & Hart; it's about Gunn and it's about Lindsey.
They don't talk about any of that shit, though. They talk about everything else, and sometimes they'll get as close as talking *around* the shit, but the way Gunn figures it? They both spend enough time talking to other people about how jacked up things are, and they each know how jacked up things are for the other. Know the hows and whys, too.
But sometimes, Gunn isn't even thinking about the reasons. Times like right now.
Lindsey sleeps like he's lying in a hospital bed: flat on his back, confined to a twin-sized bed space even though it's a king-sized bed, with the covers tucked around him to leave his arms free. Arm, actually. Damn if Lindsey doesn't keep his right arm under the covers when he sleeps. And damn if his side of the bed doesn't stay neat and unrumpled. His good arm is thrown over his head, blue eyes hidden by lids, left leg riding down the bed nice and straight, and right leg slightly bent at the knee.
He doesn't sprawl. He doesn't curl up. He rarely shifts onto his side.
It's like looking at someone who's unconscious. And really tense. Gunn's never seen someone look less relaxed when they're asleep.
Hell, Lindsey's tense most of the time, except right after they're done messing around, but Gunn still can't believe that it stays with him when he's out for the count. Or maybe he can.
There's a line down the center of Lindsey's forehead on account of the way he's almost frowning. Those full lips of his are pressed together, not even a little bit open, because his jaw is locked up good and tight. He doesn't grind his teeth, but he clenches them damn hard. Gunn thinks the reason that Lindsey runs a hand across his jaw when he first wakes up is to convince it to move after hours of being abused while he sleeps.
But Lindsey's hair? Gunn smiles, and it's smug. Yeah, the hair looks messed up. One of the first things Gunn does when they get started is mess up that hair, because after he pulls back from kissing Lindsey, there's no better sight than glazed blue eyes, wet, parted lips, and that sandy brown hair looking like someone's *been* there. Like Gunn's been there, gripping it just a little to keep Lindsey's mouth right where he wants it, or move it where he needs it.
Gunn stretches out a hand, touches his fingers to Lindsey's forehead. Lindsey's skin isn't soft, but it's not rough, either. It's skin that's seen hours of the sun, maybe taken a little bit of damage in the process. Just a slight of texture to it. Enough to keep it interesting. Enough for Gunn's fingertips to tingle just a bit when he drags them up and down the almost-frown-line, pressing down a little until the tension gives and muscles shift right and left.
It'd be better if he didn't forget all the complicated reasons about why he and Lindsey do this, and he knows it. Better if he could get up after it's done, pull his clothes on, and head on out. But there'd been a lot of mutual using in his crew, what with all of them living half-a-step outside of normal and having only each other, and it wasn't ever something cold and clinical. Lindsey's been mixed up with crew people in Gunn's mind since the first night at the bar, and there's unwritten rules that go with playing within the crew.
Gunn's fingers travel down to Lindsey's lips. They're damn nice lips, especially for a white boy. Nice and full and always looking like they're ready for something, anything. Sweet little curves that make a person wonder if they can live up to what they're promising. A little on the pretty side, but considering how well they live up to what they promise, Gunn's not complaining about that at all.
He cups his hand along the side of Lindsey's jaw, then tugs down on the bottom lip with his thumb, a small bit of pressure. Runs it along the shiny part of lip he exposes, then pushes. He keeps his thumb moving, slight little nudges up and down. There's a noise, kind of like a knuckle cracking but a lot more muffled, and then Lindsey's jaw unlocks and his mouth slides open.
He pulls his thumb away from Lindsey's lips and then takes hold of the covers across Lindsey's chest. Nudges them down so that they're at waist-level instead. Without a doubt, that chest is Gunn's favorite part of Lindsey. Running his hands across it is like walking a trail, or something. Dips and rises that just kind of flow along all natural and smooth. But he ignores the chest for a moment, because Lindsey's sleep doesn't get disturbed if Gunn touches his face--and that's really freaky, because Gunn can't sleep through someone even *looking* at him hard--but he gets restless when his right arm is uncovered.
It's not hideous. A little disturbing, not seeing a hand where a hand should be, but Gunn's seen worse. A lot worse. The line where Lindsey's wrist stops is straight and neat. At the edge, and a little ways up, there are grooves in Lindsey's skin from where the prosthetic straps on. Gunn has the feeling that they shouldn't be there, especially not hours after Lindsey takes it off, and that Lindsey keeps the thing way tighter than it needs to be. Probably terrified of it falling off at work, in front of someone like Lilah.
Gunn's learned more about Lindsey by watching him sleep than he learned from everything Angel, Cordy and Wes told him. More than he's learned from having sex with Lindsey, even, because sex gives a person insight into someone else, but it's not always stuff that's true when the sex isn't being had. More than he's learned from conversation, too, because Lindsey holds his cards close to his damn fine chest.
It all comes down to one thing that leads to every other thing: Lindsey's got this vulnerability in him. He covers it with sneers and nasty words, but it's there. It causes the anger, it makes him bristle up like a porcupine or something to protect himself, and it sends him tearing off to do something stupid more often than not.
And if Gunn closes his eyes, he can imagine Lindsey just dropping all the shit, and diving headfirst into the other extreme. Going entirely exposed and vulnerable. It's not a good image, not to Gunn. Because there aren't many people in the world who don't take advantage of something like that when it's directed at them, don't try to suck it dry.
Gunn takes hold of Lindsey's right arm, lifts it off the bed and rubs at the indents at Lindsey's wrist, scratches lightly at them with his nails. Lindsey sighs a little in his sleep, and Gunn's lips pull into a half-smile. Spends a little time on each of the main grooves, then sets Lindsey's arm down--on the outside of the covers.
Then it's back to Lindsey's chest. Gunn maps it with both hands, like he's done a half dozen times. Keeps the touches light and easy, because he really doesn't want to wake Lindsey up. His chest has the same texture as his face, just a little less so, and Gunn knows he probably spent a lot of time outdoors, shirtless, back before he came to the city. Sucks in a breath and pictures Lindsey wearing a low riding pair of faded jeans, and nothing else.
Gunn's a bit jealous of the chest. It's one that he's kind of always wanted, but his body just ain't made that way. It's too long and lanky to get Lindsey's curves and dips without Gunn pumping iron five days out of seven, and growing a thick neck to match. But the next best thing to having one, is *having* one, and Gunn usually gives a lot of attention to Lindsey's chest when they're hot and heavy.
Gunn never gets to give it as much as he wants, though, because Lindsey's got a thing for getting his back touched. He always manages to shift and twist enough to redirect Gunn's hands. Even in his sleep.
Little by little, Lindsey turns. Seems like he's trying to move towards Gunn's hands, but that's not it. He's on his side, then he dips some more and he's lying on his stomach, Gunn's hands neatly deposited on his back and the sheets tangled around his legs and waist.
Shaking his head, Gunn leans forward and drops a kiss at the nape of Lindsey's neck, his hands ghosting along Lindsey's spine, then down the muscles on either side of it. He feels them quiver then relax as he goes along. More damn tension. Lindsey's back is riddled with it, and isn't much better when Gunn stops five minutes later, too tired at this point to keep his eyes open.
Gunn keeps one hand on Lindsey's back, settles himself on his side, and closes his eyes.
***
Lindsey always wakes up before Gunn. Which makes sense, since Lindsey always falls asleep before him. He tried to outlast Gunn once and just drifted off mid-sentence in the process.
It's the leader in Gunn, the protector. He can't rest until his people are settled down for the night. Lindsey thinks he probably strolled through whatever building he and the other street kids were squatting in, checking in on everyone, giving some encouraging words to the ones on guard duty, then finally giving in and getting himself some rest.
Lindsey doesn't think that *he's* ever been so outwardly focused. At least not on more than one person, and not in a way that wasn't a little bit over the top. Thinks of Darla and amends that to obsessive. And Gunn's reasons for it are entirely different than Lindsey's. Gunn protects people, and grooms them to take care of themselves. It's about them reaching their potential, and not about Gunn being validated by people looking to him, at him, up to him.
There's something about the weight on the other side of the bed that makes Lindsey keep his eyes closed. In his time with Wolfram & Hart, he's learned that there are creatures, wraiths, demons, that gain power over you if you look at them. That's not why Lindsey doesn't open his eyes and look at Gunn, though. It's because of the other creatures. The ones that disappear if you look at them.
The weight's enough, though. So is the sharp elbow that jabs into his ribs when Gunn shifts.
People aren't made for being alone, and being alone isn't always about being *alone*. Lindsey spends the weekdays with a thousand other Wolfram & Hart employees. For a while, Darla was a daily presence in his home, his bed.
Lying in a motel bed, eyes closed, feeling the heat that comes from another person settled close by, Lindsey feels less alone than he does at work. Than when Darla was with him, but not really with *him*.
There are messy circumstances that are responsible for Gunn and Lindsey being in this motel. Messy and layered and painful. But Lindsey has never felt that Gunn wasn't with him, that he wasn't with Gunn. It's a nice change, the messiness not overtaking everything.
He wonders sometimes just when Gunn is gong to rethink this. Knows it'll get cut off from Gunn's end, and Lindsey will spend a few weeks worth of evenings waiting for Gunn at the bar where they'd first met until he finally accepts the truth.
He doubts he'll be ready for it, but that doesn't matter so much to him at this point. There's too much in him that he doesn't know that he'll ever get a reign on. He just hopes that Gunn ends it because he's finally sorted his own head out, rather than because life has dealt them both another serving of shit.
Lindsey has a fair idea what Gunn's stuck on, and he expects to be sitting in the bar on his own damn soon. Isn't sure why he hasn't already, because it's pretty damn clear that Gunn's one of the good guys. So clear it that it's mind boggling to Lindsey that Gunn is questioning it. But the fact is that if there's one thing Angel is good for, it's making people question which side they're on.
He cracks open an eye long enough to glance at his watch. It's two-thirty and Gunn will probably sleep for another half hour. Then they'll crawl out of bed, take a shower and go on to their separate homes. Tomorrow, Lindsey will ignore the urge to go to the bar to see if Gunn's there. But he'll wonder if Gunn is there, if Gunn is looking up every time the door opens. And the night after that Lindsey will stop home after work long enough to change before giving in.
Gunn has never not shown up at the bar on the nights Lindsey does. Lindsey's not sure what that means and he tries not to think about it too much. Because, hell, he already spends too much time thinking about things he shouldn't. He can't help it. He's always wanted things he shouldn't, always gone after them when he *knows* better.
He thinks about calling Gunn for no real reason. He thinks about the two of them going out to dinner or a game or something like that. About having someone in his home who is fucking there because of *him*, not because of a thousand other reasons that just make it convenient to be there. Thinks about feeling calm and unruffled for longer than just the few scattered right-nows he has with Gunn.
He thinks about being really selfless and sitting Gunn down. Getting it through Gunn's thick skull that he hasn't followed Angel into some fucked up miasma where morals and ethics are skewered and shredded. Getting through to Gunn, even though it would mean Gunn never showing up at the bar again because Lindsey is in that miasma.
Lindsey knows it would be worth it. Knows that Gunn deserves someone to turn the tables on him, give as good as they get from him. The only problem is that Gunn wouldn't hear him. He calls Lindsey stubborn, but Gunn's got his own stubborn streak. Like most people, he's got to come to things on his own. That hasn't stopped Lindsey from spending too damn much time trying to figure out a way to do it, though.
Every once in a while? He thinks about what it would be like to have right-now all the time. But even he's not idiotic enough to really consider it.
Part of that is because he knows this thing with Gunn is something born out of confusion and complications. Who the fuck knows where he and Gunn would stand with each other if all of that were stripped away? No guarantee that it'd be anywhere at all.
But mostly it's because he knows Gunn would rip him a new one if he suggested going full time. Oh, he'd be flattered, and Lindsey can actually picture the way Gunn's eyes would shine--like there were bright sparks of white light in his eyes. But then Gunn would tell Lindsey to grow a brain and learn to think practically.
Gunn mutters something in his sleep, a mishmash of consonants that don't make any sense, then kicks out with his leg, catching Lindsey in the thigh. Eyes still closed, Lindsey smiles.
Yeah, he thinks about doing a lot of things regarding Gunn. But he doesn't. Figures pulling something monumentally stupid would just piss Gunn off to no end.
Rash actions. Acceptable risks. There's a subtlety between the two that Lindsey can't distinguish when he's in the middle of something, but which is glaringly obvious to Gunn at all times. Lindsey doesn't think he's ever been as envious of anyone as he is of Gunn and his ability to distinguish. He thinks maybe it's really admiration. Another case of a subtle difference that he's realized exists.
And maybe he knows why Gunn hasn't sorted his head out yet. Because knowing something...that's not the same as knowing all the little details about how it works, and how it affects you, and how it feels. Like, fire burns; it's a known fact. But until a person gets singed a bit, they don't understand just what burning *is*.
So Gunn's got to understand what that miasma is, rather than just knowing it exists. Lindsey figures that might be something he can help out with.
Gunn's starting to get more restless, a sure sign he's waking up. Lindsey runs a hand through his hair and finally opens his eyes.
.End
Next Story in Series - A Mirror and Some Smoke
Series Listing in Memories here.
Series: Smoke and Mirrors #5
Rating: PG13
Pairing: Gunn/Lindsey
Spoilers/Timeline: Set some vague place between Epiphany and Dead End.
Note: This is a big shiny present with Lar's name on it.
Summary: The guys take stock of, well, each other.
*
There's a whole lot of reasons why Gunn does this thing he does with Lindsey, why he guesses Lindsey does it back. It's about Angel and it's about Darla; it's about AI and it's about Wolfram & Hart; it's about Gunn and it's about Lindsey.
They don't talk about any of that shit, though. They talk about everything else, and sometimes they'll get as close as talking *around* the shit, but the way Gunn figures it? They both spend enough time talking to other people about how jacked up things are, and they each know how jacked up things are for the other. Know the hows and whys, too.
But sometimes, Gunn isn't even thinking about the reasons. Times like right now.
Lindsey sleeps like he's lying in a hospital bed: flat on his back, confined to a twin-sized bed space even though it's a king-sized bed, with the covers tucked around him to leave his arms free. Arm, actually. Damn if Lindsey doesn't keep his right arm under the covers when he sleeps. And damn if his side of the bed doesn't stay neat and unrumpled. His good arm is thrown over his head, blue eyes hidden by lids, left leg riding down the bed nice and straight, and right leg slightly bent at the knee.
He doesn't sprawl. He doesn't curl up. He rarely shifts onto his side.
It's like looking at someone who's unconscious. And really tense. Gunn's never seen someone look less relaxed when they're asleep.
Hell, Lindsey's tense most of the time, except right after they're done messing around, but Gunn still can't believe that it stays with him when he's out for the count. Or maybe he can.
There's a line down the center of Lindsey's forehead on account of the way he's almost frowning. Those full lips of his are pressed together, not even a little bit open, because his jaw is locked up good and tight. He doesn't grind his teeth, but he clenches them damn hard. Gunn thinks the reason that Lindsey runs a hand across his jaw when he first wakes up is to convince it to move after hours of being abused while he sleeps.
But Lindsey's hair? Gunn smiles, and it's smug. Yeah, the hair looks messed up. One of the first things Gunn does when they get started is mess up that hair, because after he pulls back from kissing Lindsey, there's no better sight than glazed blue eyes, wet, parted lips, and that sandy brown hair looking like someone's *been* there. Like Gunn's been there, gripping it just a little to keep Lindsey's mouth right where he wants it, or move it where he needs it.
Gunn stretches out a hand, touches his fingers to Lindsey's forehead. Lindsey's skin isn't soft, but it's not rough, either. It's skin that's seen hours of the sun, maybe taken a little bit of damage in the process. Just a slight of texture to it. Enough to keep it interesting. Enough for Gunn's fingertips to tingle just a bit when he drags them up and down the almost-frown-line, pressing down a little until the tension gives and muscles shift right and left.
It'd be better if he didn't forget all the complicated reasons about why he and Lindsey do this, and he knows it. Better if he could get up after it's done, pull his clothes on, and head on out. But there'd been a lot of mutual using in his crew, what with all of them living half-a-step outside of normal and having only each other, and it wasn't ever something cold and clinical. Lindsey's been mixed up with crew people in Gunn's mind since the first night at the bar, and there's unwritten rules that go with playing within the crew.
Gunn's fingers travel down to Lindsey's lips. They're damn nice lips, especially for a white boy. Nice and full and always looking like they're ready for something, anything. Sweet little curves that make a person wonder if they can live up to what they're promising. A little on the pretty side, but considering how well they live up to what they promise, Gunn's not complaining about that at all.
He cups his hand along the side of Lindsey's jaw, then tugs down on the bottom lip with his thumb, a small bit of pressure. Runs it along the shiny part of lip he exposes, then pushes. He keeps his thumb moving, slight little nudges up and down. There's a noise, kind of like a knuckle cracking but a lot more muffled, and then Lindsey's jaw unlocks and his mouth slides open.
He pulls his thumb away from Lindsey's lips and then takes hold of the covers across Lindsey's chest. Nudges them down so that they're at waist-level instead. Without a doubt, that chest is Gunn's favorite part of Lindsey. Running his hands across it is like walking a trail, or something. Dips and rises that just kind of flow along all natural and smooth. But he ignores the chest for a moment, because Lindsey's sleep doesn't get disturbed if Gunn touches his face--and that's really freaky, because Gunn can't sleep through someone even *looking* at him hard--but he gets restless when his right arm is uncovered.
It's not hideous. A little disturbing, not seeing a hand where a hand should be, but Gunn's seen worse. A lot worse. The line where Lindsey's wrist stops is straight and neat. At the edge, and a little ways up, there are grooves in Lindsey's skin from where the prosthetic straps on. Gunn has the feeling that they shouldn't be there, especially not hours after Lindsey takes it off, and that Lindsey keeps the thing way tighter than it needs to be. Probably terrified of it falling off at work, in front of someone like Lilah.
Gunn's learned more about Lindsey by watching him sleep than he learned from everything Angel, Cordy and Wes told him. More than he's learned from having sex with Lindsey, even, because sex gives a person insight into someone else, but it's not always stuff that's true when the sex isn't being had. More than he's learned from conversation, too, because Lindsey holds his cards close to his damn fine chest.
It all comes down to one thing that leads to every other thing: Lindsey's got this vulnerability in him. He covers it with sneers and nasty words, but it's there. It causes the anger, it makes him bristle up like a porcupine or something to protect himself, and it sends him tearing off to do something stupid more often than not.
And if Gunn closes his eyes, he can imagine Lindsey just dropping all the shit, and diving headfirst into the other extreme. Going entirely exposed and vulnerable. It's not a good image, not to Gunn. Because there aren't many people in the world who don't take advantage of something like that when it's directed at them, don't try to suck it dry.
Gunn takes hold of Lindsey's right arm, lifts it off the bed and rubs at the indents at Lindsey's wrist, scratches lightly at them with his nails. Lindsey sighs a little in his sleep, and Gunn's lips pull into a half-smile. Spends a little time on each of the main grooves, then sets Lindsey's arm down--on the outside of the covers.
Then it's back to Lindsey's chest. Gunn maps it with both hands, like he's done a half dozen times. Keeps the touches light and easy, because he really doesn't want to wake Lindsey up. His chest has the same texture as his face, just a little less so, and Gunn knows he probably spent a lot of time outdoors, shirtless, back before he came to the city. Sucks in a breath and pictures Lindsey wearing a low riding pair of faded jeans, and nothing else.
Gunn's a bit jealous of the chest. It's one that he's kind of always wanted, but his body just ain't made that way. It's too long and lanky to get Lindsey's curves and dips without Gunn pumping iron five days out of seven, and growing a thick neck to match. But the next best thing to having one, is *having* one, and Gunn usually gives a lot of attention to Lindsey's chest when they're hot and heavy.
Gunn never gets to give it as much as he wants, though, because Lindsey's got a thing for getting his back touched. He always manages to shift and twist enough to redirect Gunn's hands. Even in his sleep.
Little by little, Lindsey turns. Seems like he's trying to move towards Gunn's hands, but that's not it. He's on his side, then he dips some more and he's lying on his stomach, Gunn's hands neatly deposited on his back and the sheets tangled around his legs and waist.
Shaking his head, Gunn leans forward and drops a kiss at the nape of Lindsey's neck, his hands ghosting along Lindsey's spine, then down the muscles on either side of it. He feels them quiver then relax as he goes along. More damn tension. Lindsey's back is riddled with it, and isn't much better when Gunn stops five minutes later, too tired at this point to keep his eyes open.
Gunn keeps one hand on Lindsey's back, settles himself on his side, and closes his eyes.
***
Lindsey always wakes up before Gunn. Which makes sense, since Lindsey always falls asleep before him. He tried to outlast Gunn once and just drifted off mid-sentence in the process.
It's the leader in Gunn, the protector. He can't rest until his people are settled down for the night. Lindsey thinks he probably strolled through whatever building he and the other street kids were squatting in, checking in on everyone, giving some encouraging words to the ones on guard duty, then finally giving in and getting himself some rest.
Lindsey doesn't think that *he's* ever been so outwardly focused. At least not on more than one person, and not in a way that wasn't a little bit over the top. Thinks of Darla and amends that to obsessive. And Gunn's reasons for it are entirely different than Lindsey's. Gunn protects people, and grooms them to take care of themselves. It's about them reaching their potential, and not about Gunn being validated by people looking to him, at him, up to him.
There's something about the weight on the other side of the bed that makes Lindsey keep his eyes closed. In his time with Wolfram & Hart, he's learned that there are creatures, wraiths, demons, that gain power over you if you look at them. That's not why Lindsey doesn't open his eyes and look at Gunn, though. It's because of the other creatures. The ones that disappear if you look at them.
The weight's enough, though. So is the sharp elbow that jabs into his ribs when Gunn shifts.
People aren't made for being alone, and being alone isn't always about being *alone*. Lindsey spends the weekdays with a thousand other Wolfram & Hart employees. For a while, Darla was a daily presence in his home, his bed.
Lying in a motel bed, eyes closed, feeling the heat that comes from another person settled close by, Lindsey feels less alone than he does at work. Than when Darla was with him, but not really with *him*.
There are messy circumstances that are responsible for Gunn and Lindsey being in this motel. Messy and layered and painful. But Lindsey has never felt that Gunn wasn't with him, that he wasn't with Gunn. It's a nice change, the messiness not overtaking everything.
He wonders sometimes just when Gunn is gong to rethink this. Knows it'll get cut off from Gunn's end, and Lindsey will spend a few weeks worth of evenings waiting for Gunn at the bar where they'd first met until he finally accepts the truth.
He doubts he'll be ready for it, but that doesn't matter so much to him at this point. There's too much in him that he doesn't know that he'll ever get a reign on. He just hopes that Gunn ends it because he's finally sorted his own head out, rather than because life has dealt them both another serving of shit.
Lindsey has a fair idea what Gunn's stuck on, and he expects to be sitting in the bar on his own damn soon. Isn't sure why he hasn't already, because it's pretty damn clear that Gunn's one of the good guys. So clear it that it's mind boggling to Lindsey that Gunn is questioning it. But the fact is that if there's one thing Angel is good for, it's making people question which side they're on.
He cracks open an eye long enough to glance at his watch. It's two-thirty and Gunn will probably sleep for another half hour. Then they'll crawl out of bed, take a shower and go on to their separate homes. Tomorrow, Lindsey will ignore the urge to go to the bar to see if Gunn's there. But he'll wonder if Gunn is there, if Gunn is looking up every time the door opens. And the night after that Lindsey will stop home after work long enough to change before giving in.
Gunn has never not shown up at the bar on the nights Lindsey does. Lindsey's not sure what that means and he tries not to think about it too much. Because, hell, he already spends too much time thinking about things he shouldn't. He can't help it. He's always wanted things he shouldn't, always gone after them when he *knows* better.
He thinks about calling Gunn for no real reason. He thinks about the two of them going out to dinner or a game or something like that. About having someone in his home who is fucking there because of *him*, not because of a thousand other reasons that just make it convenient to be there. Thinks about feeling calm and unruffled for longer than just the few scattered right-nows he has with Gunn.
He thinks about being really selfless and sitting Gunn down. Getting it through Gunn's thick skull that he hasn't followed Angel into some fucked up miasma where morals and ethics are skewered and shredded. Getting through to Gunn, even though it would mean Gunn never showing up at the bar again because Lindsey is in that miasma.
Lindsey knows it would be worth it. Knows that Gunn deserves someone to turn the tables on him, give as good as they get from him. The only problem is that Gunn wouldn't hear him. He calls Lindsey stubborn, but Gunn's got his own stubborn streak. Like most people, he's got to come to things on his own. That hasn't stopped Lindsey from spending too damn much time trying to figure out a way to do it, though.
Every once in a while? He thinks about what it would be like to have right-now all the time. But even he's not idiotic enough to really consider it.
Part of that is because he knows this thing with Gunn is something born out of confusion and complications. Who the fuck knows where he and Gunn would stand with each other if all of that were stripped away? No guarantee that it'd be anywhere at all.
But mostly it's because he knows Gunn would rip him a new one if he suggested going full time. Oh, he'd be flattered, and Lindsey can actually picture the way Gunn's eyes would shine--like there were bright sparks of white light in his eyes. But then Gunn would tell Lindsey to grow a brain and learn to think practically.
Gunn mutters something in his sleep, a mishmash of consonants that don't make any sense, then kicks out with his leg, catching Lindsey in the thigh. Eyes still closed, Lindsey smiles.
Yeah, he thinks about doing a lot of things regarding Gunn. But he doesn't. Figures pulling something monumentally stupid would just piss Gunn off to no end.
Rash actions. Acceptable risks. There's a subtlety between the two that Lindsey can't distinguish when he's in the middle of something, but which is glaringly obvious to Gunn at all times. Lindsey doesn't think he's ever been as envious of anyone as he is of Gunn and his ability to distinguish. He thinks maybe it's really admiration. Another case of a subtle difference that he's realized exists.
And maybe he knows why Gunn hasn't sorted his head out yet. Because knowing something...that's not the same as knowing all the little details about how it works, and how it affects you, and how it feels. Like, fire burns; it's a known fact. But until a person gets singed a bit, they don't understand just what burning *is*.
So Gunn's got to understand what that miasma is, rather than just knowing it exists. Lindsey figures that might be something he can help out with.
Gunn's starting to get more restless, a sure sign he's waking up. Lindsey runs a hand through his hair and finally opens his eyes.
.End
Next Story in Series - A Mirror and Some Smoke
Series Listing in Memories here.