APOCALYPSE HOW: IC INBOX

[cacophonish]

"...is this thing on?" un: freakscene voice | video | text | action | everything

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[cacophonish]

Jeff feels like a prey animal pretty much all the time, so maybe there's something in the way Tim's holding himself that's recognizable. There's a lot they don't know about each other, but this is familiar, at least.

(And, now, there's a concept: getting to know someone before he sleeps with them.)

Tim's laughing, and that gets Jeff to laugh, too. It's a fucking ridiculous story, isn't it? But hey, it's more common ground. A rite of passage, like Tim says. Jeff props his elbow on his knee and rests his cheek on his palm, an amused-- and ridiculous and smitten-- smile half-obscured by his hand.

And he laughs again, muffled into his own palm, when Tim doesn't even say the word. He really is sweet. Fucking cute...

"Shit... Really?" Jeff drops his hand now, picks at a little tear in his jeans with a lingering smile. "Parents are so weird, man. When my mom found out, she like, sat me down for a really long talk about consent and, uh..." He cringes a little. "Mutual... pleasure? Orgasms. Stuff like that. It was so embarrassing, I wanted to die." A beat, then: "And what's with these dudes and their guns!"

[ployboy]

"They're overcompensating," Tim mutters, and he hears it before he even truly realizes he's said it aloud. Brainless little prod at uh, toxic masculinity?, or something, because in reality he'd been wondering if he shouldn't be shuffling to put on his shirt if they're talking about parents. He feels naked.

Which is funny because he's very much no longer... excited. In that way.

He thinks, Kon would be so disappointed to learn he's thrown away his one good hormone on doing Nothing.

He thinks, mildly alarmed and unbearably bashful at the sight of Jeff's amused smile, what the hell is wrong with him. God, it's a long story. Tim laughs, but it's to clear out the lingering nerves. He sucks in and lets out a deep breath theatrically enough to clue Jeff in to the fact that he's alright. Then he balls his fists and steels himself and admits, "I really wanted to--"

Uh. His brain doesn't work that way, Tim remembers, and his confession blanks. He wilts, and makes up for it by leaning forward a little, into Jeff's space once again. Apologetic, once again. Appeasing, because he doesn't know what to do. "I'm sorry. I'm embarrassed."

[cacophonish]

It does make Jeff feel a little flutter of... relief? Maybe happiness? that Tim had wanted to. Whatever happened, at least there was a point when they'd both wanted... that: the elephant that's still lingering in the room, awkwardly outstaying its welcome. He smiles a little, adjusts the way he's sitting, pulling his legs up to bump his knees to his chest.

"Dude." He reaches a foot out to lightly-- gently!-- kick Tim, now that he's moved closer. "You don't have to feel embarrassed around me. I'm, like, the most embarrassing fucking person. Maybe that's why I always rush things like, um, like this." There's a wry edge to his smile, because god it's scary (and: embarrassing) being like... vulnerable. Even as he dresses it up in irreverence, like it's all a big joke, he's still skirting on the edge of actual vulnerability here. "So I can screw and run before the other person realizes what a big fucking mess I am."

He exhales. It's kind of a laugh. Then, softly, without any jokey irreverence to hide behind: "Anyway. I'm sorry I pushed so fast."

And now Jeff holds up a finger and waggles it in Tim's face. "New rule: no one's allowed to say 'sorry' anymore tonight."