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"Uh huh." Jeff smiles (is this the first time he's smiled since waking up?), a little light coming back to his eyes as he moves to start peeling off his shirt, followed by the pants. "I'd rather wear your words than Tommy Bahama."

This is familiar. This is safe. Comforting. When his body doesn't feel like it's his anymore (just a thing, a meat puppet, an object to take and use and discard--) at least he can hand the reins over to Bash.

He even remembers to fold his clothes neatly, smiling, singing along to Bash's humming. "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine..."

Edited 2022-10-31 08:52 (UTC)

"You make me happy, when skies are grey..." Bash gestures for Jeff to lie on his belly. He wants to start on the back this time. He wants a large, mostly flat surface to begin. Red marker, one of the hardest colors to get off. Lasts near the longest.

His smile brightens when Bash sings along, pure sunshine parting through the gloom. "You'll never know, dear, how much I love you..."

Jeff stretches out on the bed, sighing softly, breathing in Bash's familiar scent. It's something to latch on to, senses and sensations, being present in the physical. He focuses on the warmth of the bed, and Bash's presence over him, the sounds of singing, and breathing, and movement...

He's a person. He's alive. This is real.

"Please don't take my sunshine away."

The scent of sharpie joins Bash's own scent as he begins to draw his veve between Jeff's shoulders, centered on his spine. Reclaiming the symbol that had been used to hurt him by giving it to Jeff again. Silly, isn't it?

If there had been any trace of Jeff inside his own body while Chase had been taking it for a ride, this might spark some familiarity in him. The particular significance of the song, the importance of reclaiming the veve right now, all of it would have an extra weight to Jeff.

Unfortunately, he has no context. (But if he did, he'd tell Bash it isn't silly, it's important.)

He feels the lines drawn on his back, trying to piece them together in his head... Letters? No, it's not a word, he doesn't think... Maybe he should just stop trying to picture it, and just enjoy the brush of felt and ink against his skin. Jeff shivers pleasantly, lets out a soft hum, then tries to look over his shoulder at Bash. His expression's beginning to soften, going to a dreamy place.

"What's it say?"

"It's my veve. Which is just this side of writing 'property of Bash', but prettier than my handwriting. I know you know how to draw it, but I don't think I've ever drawn it on you before." His lips brush the back of Jeff's neck, and then he nips.

You know, a small way to remind Jeff to stay present.

That'll do it! He comes back to Earth (or wherever the fuck they are) with a little noise of... pleasant surprise? Nips are always welcome.

"Property of Bash," he repeats with a little smile. Coming from anyone else, he'd probably complain and throw in some kneejerk defiance, but from Bash? The words feel like a warm blanket, safe and welcome. "I like that. I mean, like, knowing your veve's there."

"Good. I'm almost done with it, then I'm going to start writing."

It's definitely a little dangerous, giving his veve to someone. Chase proved that someone knowing it could be a trap. But. Bash's core philosophy has always been recklessly kind. After this past month, he really wants to get back to that again.

"Stay with me, or I'm going to bite you again."

"Promises, promises," he teases. Jeff is all for a little bit of biting. But, he does sigh softly as he focuses again on the present, and Bash, and all his senses. "I'm staying. I want to stay." It feels important to say it out loud, like that'll help manifest it into reality. "I'm so scared," he admits. "Of... drifting away without you. Like..." He swallows, winces a little against Bash's pillow. "What if one day, I drift off and never come back?"

"Then I will do whatever it takes, to get you back. No matter the cost."

Bash broke his rules several times, in the past month:
- No zombies
- Don't get angry
- No violence
- You are not a killer, even if you're a death demigod

He may have held kindness in his heart for Chase, as much as he could, but he still broke his rules. For Jeff. And he doesn't regret it, honestly.

Even though he never doubted Bash, just hearing the promise settles over him like a warm, weighted blanket. He sniffles a little-- mostly happy tears, or maybe just general "overwhelmed by emotions" tears-- and nods.

"Me too." His voice cracks a little, but he tries to ignore that. "They ever take you, and I'll become a fucking... Ghostbuster. And exorcist. Ghostbuster exorcist..."

"Exorcisms didn't work. We tried them. I want you to know, we tried."

The marker works along Jeff's shoulders now. Block letters, slow and steady.

"In the end, the only way to end the possessions was to kill the body."

"Oh. Right." Bash can probably tell, from the way Jeff tenses up beneath him, and the particular hitch of his breath-- bracing himself-- what Jeff's going to ask next.

He shouldn't ask. He doesn't want to. But he has to know.

"How... how did I die?"

Edited 2022-11-02 10:47 (UTC)

"Decapitated. It was instantaneous. Your body would have felt almost no pain."

He isn't sure if he should say he did it. If that would make it better or much, much worse.

Decapitated. That's so... surreal. Everything about this is. Dying at all, dying when he wasn't even in his body, dying in that particular way. If he'd been shot, or stabbed, or strangled or something, he could wrap his mind around that, he thinks. Those are the sorts of things that don't always kill people; people can come back from that.

But there's something so final about this method, and it feels... wrong... that he's here, now, whole and alive.

Jeff hesitates. He takes another breath. It's clear that he's trying to choose his words very carefully as he speaks again.

"Do I... want to know who did it?"

Maybe it's not fair, leaving it to Bash's discretion. But Jeff wasn't there, and this is all so abstract, and it's difficult to even try and picture it, and even with the little bit of context he has, it's just--

Bash would know, better than him, if he should hear all the dirty details.

The way Bash tenses, his breath caught in his lungs, everything still and silent...

...that's answer enough, isn't it?

It is, and Jeff... Well. It's kind of a whirlwind of different emotions swirling around inside, competing to come out on top. He doesn't know just how to take it, how to even begin to process it, but he knows one thing: he isn't upset with Bash. Upset for Bash, yes, but not-- he can't blame him for this.

It was an act of mercy, right?

Jeff doesn't roll over, not while Bash is still working on his back, but he does look over his shoulder and reach a hand back to try and grasp at the demigod's.

"Hey. It's okay."

"Is it?"

He lets Jeff take his hand, a little quiver in those two words. Because he's still beating himself up over it, hard. Over everything he'd failed in the past month, over every one of his personal rules he's broken.

He feels like a failure. And he doesn't want to show it, because Jeff has been through so much worse.

"Yeah." He gives Bash's hand a squeeze, and reiterates, "It's okay."

It's hard to find the right way to put it beyond that. I'm glad it was you sounds kind of fucked up, and he's not glad, exactly, but. If he had to choose, he'd rather a quick death at the hands of somebody trying to save him than something vicious and violent from somebody who doesn't care.

"I know you wouldn't have done it if, um... if there was any other way. And I-- I'm just. I wish you didn't have to." He gives Bash's hand a little tug, encouraging him to lay down on the bed with him, if he wants to cuddle for a while. The sharpies can wait. He knows he's not supposed to say he's sorry, but-- "I wish... I'm sorry this happened. It's not fair that you have to live with... with the memories..."

"Fair things don't happen to us two, when we're together. It sucks. We've handled it all so far, well enough."

He sighs, moving the markers to the floor before he just...curls. Right in up against Jeff in the most subtle silent request to be the little spoon ever.

"We'll make it through this together, too. Right?"

Luckily, Jeff makes a pretty good big spoon. He may have a slight figure, but he's a long boy, and he gives hugs like a koala. Once Bash settles in, he even pulls the blankets over them, like a little nest. Just the two of them, tuning the rest of the bullshit and misery out.

"Yeah." It comes out soft as a sigh, but there's some sense of certainty in Jeff's voice. He doesn't think he'd be able to pull himself back up from... anything, really, on his own, but at least with Bash... A lot more seems possible. And he can only do his best to try and give Bash the same feeling of security, even if he doubts himself and his own abilities.

He kisses the top of Bash's head. "And anyway, I mean... I wouldn't trade you for all the fair things in the world."

Even if they do deserve a goddamn break from the suck.

As Bash curls into the blanket and the boy, the first words that run through his head slip out of his mouth in a playful tone.

"Babe, that's gay."

Because it is and they are and gay means joyful as much as it means anything else. And they are that.

He lets out a laugh, ducking his face against Bash's shoulder to muffle it. After the time he's had, trapped in a state of non-existence, it feels like laughing for the first time. A fresh experience, light and startling.

"Soooo gay."

"Gayest thing I've ever fucking heard. I love it, and I love you."

He laughs as well, finally relaxing. Things aren't back to normal, but they will be again.

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