[the announcement of another person in the shackshop comes as a careless, rattling slam of a door]
[footsteps traverse across the hardwood floor, which is finally approaching a state that's mildly less covered in gremlin intestines, so the smak smak of heavy boots is clear instead of vaguely squishy]
[they come to a stop, and Badou's head appears over the back of the couch, looking oddly cheerful]
[ he's found himself out of consciousness more times than he'd like to remember since the incident, and with a busted-up body, it's harder to fend off. always shaken awake at just the right time, even breathing has been needing conscious thought. ]
[ the removal of soot had still left black, and even Genkaku hadn't realized how bad the bruising on his back was until after the wash. ]
[ still, a newcomer is not really a newcomer, and he knows Badou's sounds by now, even with the dirty floors and clean upholstery of the creaking couch. ]
[ he catches the undergrounder upside down as tendrilhair slides over the back of the cushion, cigarette rolling carelessly from his teeth as he mutters a "hnnn?" correcting himself (obviously not having expected another visit for a good day or two), he offers; ]
S'up. You're lookin' way too fuckin' merry. I toldja you couldn't poke at 'em.
[ thoughts are immediately derailed when the tenderdark touch is nowhere near the tilaka (the very opposite of it, really, like if he shot through his head maybe it would come spewing out--). ]
[ it's probably not the reaction Badou wants or even expected, but his libido stirs powerfully, tightening in muscles across his chest and pulsing in the too-tight too-sharp fabric clinging to his thighs. ]
[ he wants him to pull the trigger almost as bad as he wants to shove his own hand down his pants. in the stillness of his own breath and heartbeat and without moving his head, keeping his face towards the ceiling even as his eyes go to the cornered angles of his eyes, he asks; ]
[the slight cracking of Badou's fingerbones as they curl more firmly around trigger and handle sounds just before the gun presses harder, digs into his skull]
Got any last words? And don't quote Jimi Hendrix, you goddamn poseur.
[ the corresponding twitch is sharp and intoxicating, making his breath hitch as he keeps his eyes locked on that smirk. ]
[ if this is really how it ends, he's content. breathing smoke and lowerstrata, thinking of the stratosphere and holding onto nothing -- not even his V. ]
[ de-fucking-prived of worldly possessions. ]
The fox an' the snake accidentally conquered the sky.
[ the sliver is enough, he must decide, because he doesn't strike out for the taste, doesn't try to lick old ash of the man's mouth with his own rough tongue. ]
[ he doesn't even dare teeth to him. but true to himself, he releases the hair and makes Badou be the one to pull away. ]
[for once, the Undergrounder eases back rather than jerks; with the absence of tongue and teeth, animal reactions are out of place]
[sometimes he wonders if he's being mindfucked into just the right shape, and it's always after he doesn't do something (yellpunchleave d i s c o n n e c t)]
[it's an easily dismissed thought, if only because disconnection, at this point, would leave him shapeless]
[he shifts around to the front of the couch, and his knees hit the floor with a quiet tunk of wood on bone. his palm comes up to apply slightslow pressure at the other's ribcage]
[ eyes follow him, burning embers as he circles, all the animal animosity gone so it's not predatory -- just a placement. ]
[ he shrugs to the question. 'fixing' has always been intangible to him, the emotional suffering instead of the physical, the Attachment instead of the Camaraderie. ]
[ the response comes through a gasp; ]
Dunno. I didn't peg it for bullshit breakin'.
[ it's his only vocal skepticism for the gift as he looks at the bent man and wants to touch him. ]
[footsteps traverse across the hardwood floor, which is finally approaching a state that's mildly less covered in gremlin intestines, so the smak smak of heavy boots is clear instead of vaguely squishy]
[they come to a stop, and Badou's head appears over the back of the couch, looking oddly cheerful]
Hiya, asshole.
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[ the removal of soot had still left black, and even Genkaku hadn't realized how bad the bruising on his back was until after the wash. ]
[ still, a newcomer is not really a newcomer, and he knows Badou's sounds by now, even with the dirty floors and clean upholstery of the creaking couch. ]
[ he catches the undergrounder upside down as tendrilhair slides over the back of the cushion, cigarette rolling carelessly from his teeth as he mutters a "hnnn?" correcting himself (obviously not having expected another visit for a good day or two), he offers; ]
S'up. You're lookin' way too fuckin' merry. I toldja you couldn't poke at 'em.
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[he waves his scarred hand dismissively, as if the sink's not full of stained coffee mugs, or the ashtrays stuffed to capacity]
[he leans an arm across the cushion back of the couch, sinking lazily down on top of it, body jackknifed behind it]
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[this becomes very clear when a gun's muzzle presses to the top of Genkaku's head, almost like a fond school-boy pat]
[teeth slice into a smirk around a bent cigarette]
Look, I brought'cha yer medicine.
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[ thoughts are immediately derailed when the tenderdark touch is nowhere near the tilaka (the very opposite of it, really, like if he shot through his head maybe it would come spewing out--). ]
[ it's probably not the reaction Badou wants or even expected, but his libido stirs powerfully, tightening in muscles across his chest and pulsing in the too-tight too-sharp fabric clinging to his thighs. ]
[ he wants him to pull the trigger almost as bad as he wants to shove his own hand down his pants. in the stillness of his own breath and heartbeat and without moving his head, keeping his face towards the ceiling even as his eyes go to the cornered angles of his eyes, he asks; ]
Yeah?
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[the slight cracking of Badou's fingerbones as they curl more firmly around trigger and handle sounds just before the gun presses harder, digs into his skull]
Got any last words? And don't quote Jimi Hendrix, you goddamn poseur.
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[ if this is really how it ends, he's content. breathing smoke and lowerstrata, thinking of the stratosphere and holding onto nothing -- not even his V. ]
[ de-fucking-prived of worldly possessions. ]
The fox an' the snake accidentally conquered the sky.
[ like it's a godamn Aesopp's Fable. ]
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[the gun is repositioned, knocking into the other man's nose, then pulling back, waving back and forth in Badou's grip]
Got'cha. Not this time. Yer stuck with me on this shitty floating graveyard.
[the medi-scanner recharges with a faint, calming bzzz, like static on a television set]
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[ it's a difficult mix of disappointment and curiosity when he looks back at him, and the overwhelm and overflow itch on his fingertips -- ]
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[ it's sloppy and needy, pulling tendons on his neck too tight that it tugs on his clavicle, the gift of the scanner lost in the scuffle. ]
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[his body tenses and his free hand tumbles to brace on the couch, beside welt red hair, so he doesn't fall further]
[the smash opens his mouth, and the too-slick needy kiss goes uninterrupted as he thinks prolly should'a seen that comin']
[after a few startled seconds he closes his lips, first over the other's (an accident), and then barring entry (on purpose)]
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[ he doesn't even dare teeth to him. but true to himself, he releases the hair and makes Badou be the one to pull away. ]
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[sometimes he wonders if he's being mindfucked into just the right shape, and it's always after he doesn't do something (yellpunchleave d i s c o n n e c t)]
[it's an easily dismissed thought, if only because disconnection, at this point, would leave him shapeless]
[he shifts around to the front of the couch, and his knees hit the floor with a quiet tunk of wood on bone. his palm comes up to apply slightslow pressure at the other's ribcage]
-- Ready to fix this?
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[ he shrugs to the question. 'fixing' has always been intangible to him, the emotional suffering instead of the physical, the Attachment instead of the Camaraderie. ]
[ the response comes through a gasp; ]
Dunno. I didn't peg it for bullshit breakin'.
[ it's his only vocal skepticism for the gift as he looks at the bent man and wants to touch him. ]
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It ain't.
[there's a pause which dispels any doubt that the following statement isn't true;]
But it ain't as fun out there with you all laid up. Faster we heal 'em, faster I can break 'em again.
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