we are high and we are fine

[volitaunt]

who: Poe Dameron + John Sheppard
what: An exploratory patrol outside of the wall via shuttle
when: During Dragosta
where: Outside the wall/in the jungle
warnings: Talk of torture, maybe other warnings later.



[ They agree without really talking about it directly. Talk about wanting to fly out, go on a longer patrol mission, see if they can spot more ruins outside the city. Neither one of them says what Poe is pretty sure they're both thinking--they want out of the city, away from this festival and its magics and its focus on romance.

Poe isn't sure what to make of the fact that they decide to run away from a romantic festival together, but he's trying not to read into it or be hurt by it. They're past that. They're fine.

They've got supplies for about a week's worth of flying, fuel included. Three days out, three days back. It's a long time to spend alone together, but maybe they need it. Maybe then can stop having awkward pauses in their conversations.

Poe hopes so, anyway.

They fly silently for the first few hours, and Poe can feel the tension leaving him as the tree pass below them and low-flying creatures drift on the wind at a distance from the shuttle. He leans forward just a little to peer out through the hood and get a better view of the Capital World and its pale colors against the sky. ]

Reminds me of home sometimes.

[ He's described Yavin to John before, the great red gas giant glowing in the light of its sun. For a second Poe aches for home, a kind of desperate longing he's almost used to at this point.

He sits back in his chair again. ]

I'm glad we're doing this.

Comments

[deploy]

I didn't keel over. I sat down.

[That said, John is feeling less than alright now that he's not moving.

He reaches back over his shoulder to feel for the pinch in his back. It's a bad idea. Rotating his scapula really drives home the fact there's a piece of fucking shrapnel sticking out of him.

John doesn't say anything, just jabs a thumb in the general direction of his back.]

[volitaunt]

[ Poe nods, easing to his knees to do a shuffle-walk to inspect the damage.

It's not pretty. There are two pieces of shrapnel dug into John's back, close to each other, but not so close that he can't be patched up. ]

I hope that stapler has some left.

[deploy]

Yeah. There's another pack in the box. Lucky me.

[John makes an attempt to shrug out of his uniform top, but it's currently pinned to his back, so he doesn't get much farther than a grunt, scowl, and nearly keeling over for real.

Remembering the fear in Poe's eyes, John grits his teeth and gathers his wits. The one or two that haven't been bled/sweat out into a puddle on the floor.]

Just get it out and I'll be fine. Nothing I haven't lived through before.

[volitaunt]

[ I'm lazy, so sufficed to say, Poe extracts the shrapnel and staples up the injuries as best he can, binding up the injuries.

His fingertips find the rebar scar and linger there for a moment, like a kid touching a security blanket. ]

You still have your gun?

[deploy]

What, you gonna put me out of my misery?

[The touch to that scar, an ugly twist of tissue below his ribs crisscrossed with an even deeper, uglier twist makes the hair on the back of his arms stand up. Even through the exhaustion, panic, and pain Poe manages to get a reaction out of him without trying.

He gestures to his holstered sidearm, strapped snugly against his thigh.]

When you were out, BB-8 did a sweep. He said we were the only organic lifeforms in the area.

[Yeah, John actually can understand him.]

[volitaunt]

[ Poe gives John a blank look. ]

I must have hit my head harder than I thought.

[ No, he has no idea that he cut his head open down to the bone, and it's for the best, really. ]

You said BB-8 said there are no organic lifeforms in the area.

[ A beat. ]

How long have you...?

[ U know what. ]

Doesn't matter. We should... try to get some rest.

[deploy]

Long enough.

[John keeps first watch. Poe keeps second. Third watch doesn't happen. When the sun begins to filter through the cloak both men are slumped on the floor.

It's a long day of working too damn hard to accomplish too damn little. The shuttle isn't a total write-off, and they're able to scavenge some supplies from their own wreck, and a few others. Enough food, water, and gear to set themselves up in one of the more intact shuttles and start figuring things out.

John is screwing around with a rusted portable stove, getting increasingly frustrated at one failed attempt after another to get some stable heat going. The cloak affects the weather. It's hot during the day and cold at night.

An MRE tray sits mostly untouched on the floor beside him. Spaghetti and something. John's more invested in starting a fire to warm the place up and boiling water.]

Breathe, John. Breathe.

[volitaunt]

Let me try.

[ Poe puts his hands over John's without thinking about it, moving them away from the stove so he can replace them with his own. ] I'm the mechanic.

[ He's tired, exhausted really, the pounding in his skull that started during his watch worse now than it was at the beginning of the day. It's like the thump of his heartbeat hitting his skull just above his ear. Working on the stove gives him something to do, something to focus on, something productive.

It takes about twenty minutes, but he gets the thing going. BB-8 probably could have done it in half the time, but Poe wanted to get it working himself. ]

[deploy]

[John might have argued, but Poe's hands silence him. He sits back to let the other man work. Of course Poe does in twenty minutes what's taken John the better part of an hour.]

Too bad we don't have any marshmallows.

[Poe should knows what those are. They've roasted marshmallows together before. It was one of the first things they did during their romantic getaway. Made s'mores too. In a way, this is like a hellish version of their ill-fated vacation. Just the two of them, cut off from civilization and roughing it in the wilderness. They even found a ship.

Make that ships plural. John hasn't counted the wrecks, but there's enough rusting frames that the valley looks like an abandoned airfield.

Since Poe took over, John's been counting bullets and checking weapons. He's pried more than one rifle from the hands of a charred skeleton, and at least two of them are in working order, or will be with a little elbow grease.]

On a scale of kidnapped to getting your ass beaten by Kylo Ren, how are you feeling?

[volitaunt]

[ Poe's small laugh is more like a croak. He's parched. ]

Worse than getting thrown into a tree, better than having my hands tied behind my back for a week.

[ As if in response to the memory, his muscles twinge. He's starting to wonder if that will ever really go away, if he should go back to the hospital and ask them to work their literal magic.

Doesn't matter. Either way, they're going to end up at the hospital when this is over.

At least this comes without the pain of someone breaking his mind open, the danger of others being killed in front of him while he's helpless to stop it. It's bad, but it could be so much worse. For a second Poe stares into space, those memories creeping over him like a slow-rising wave, but he blinks and he's back in the present. ]

You?

[deploy]

Hey. He never beat my ass. I beat his.

[John really shouldn't smile, but he does. Slow and wolfish. His eyes as sharp as his teeth.

There's so much John shouldn't have done, but did, and now he's paying for it. He shouldn't have fallen for Poe. He shouldn't have fell apart when Poe left him. He shouldn't have tortured and possibly killed Kylo Ren for a kidnapping he didn't commit. And he shouldn't have enjoyed it.

His smile fades as he looks at Poe, then away.]

Did you ever find out what happened to him?

[volitaunt]

Went back. Him and Hux both.

[ Poe can't tell how he feels about that, even now. He's glad Kylo Ren is gone. He's angry that Kylo Ren and Hux got to go back, but he and Finn haven't.

Poe pokes at the little stove, coaxing a taller flame out of it. ]

[deploy]

You sure?

[When John last saw Kylo he was more dead than alive. Bruised. Bloody. Broken. Fingers missing nails. Face beaten into an unrecognizable pulp.

He remembers how red his hands were. How red the floor was. How red the walls were. For a moment, all he sees is red. Tastes iron in his mouth. John closes his eyes. Inhales. Exhales.

What John wants to do is lie to Poe. Like he's been lying to him for the past two or three months about almost everything.]

I should probably tell you something. Probably should've told you a while back, but I didn't know how.

[volitaunt]

I checked. Talked to the people who escorted him and Hux to the portal themselves.

[ Poe turns to look at him, surprised and wary. ]

That doesn't sound good.

[deploy]

When you disappeared I thought he took you. I was sure he took you. Who else?

[John rubs a hand over his jaw, his eyes on the floor. Glad for the space between them. He doesn't want to see the look on Poe's face.

John wasn't thinking that far ahead when he captured Kylo. All that mattered was getting Poe back. Whatever happened after that would be worth it. John will go as far as it takes to protect the people he loves.]

I tranqued him in the back, and imprisoned him in a power-nullifying container Rodney developed. He wouldn't tell me where you were. Denied taking you. So I used every trick in the book to make him talk. Y'know. The book people don't talk about.

The original plan was to get what I needed and make what was left of Kylo disappear, but when we got word about the cult... dumped him outside a hospital and waited to be arrested. Then he disappeared himself. Thought he might've died and wound up in the morgue or something.

[volitaunt]

[ There's a funny ringing rush in Poe's ears that he doesn't think belongs to his injuries.

The book people don't talk about.

He can almost hear his own screams echoing back at him from the walls of the Finalizer, past the haze of pain, neuroshocks, abuse. He flicks ahead mentally to that conversation with Rey and Leia, that desperation for them to understand what it all meant.

That Rey, that Leia, hadn't gotten it. They hadn't cared enough about Kylo Ren's crimes--

Except that's not what it was. They hadn't cared about him.

Poe doesn't realize he's moving. The world is a seesawing blur. But he finds John, he finds John's hair with his hands, John's mouth with his own, and kisses him so tenderly a person might think Poe was afraid of hurting him.

Maybe that's not far from the truth. ]

[deploy]

[John didn't see that coming.

Poe's lips are so soft against his lips he could cry. John doesn't deserve this. He fucked up. In the time he spent hurting Kylo he could have been finding Poe. Instead he wasted three days torturing the wrong man while Poe was being beaten into submission by cultists.

His hand finds the front of Poe's jacket, gripping onto his collar for support, to ground himself in what feels like an impossible moment. Is this really happening, or is John lying on the floor of the burning shuttle with his head split open, dreaming away what little time he has left in this world?

If he is dreaming, he doesn't want to wake up before he goes, but he's never wanted something to be real more badly than this.

John swallows his emotions just long enough to rasp out the words he's been choking down since they met against Poe's mouth before kissing back, his lips as gentle as he knows how.]

I'd do anything for you.

[volitaunt]

[ The noise Poe makes is something like a sob. He presses his face against John's neck, hand still tangled in his hair. He wants to tell John not to say that, that he doesn't deserve it, that he's more than proved he doesn't. ]

Thank you. Thank you. [ Quiet. Thin. ] I missed you so much.

[ He eases back, head pounding, almost afraid to look John in the face again. ]

I would too. [ He swallows, throat squeezing. ] Please believe me.

[deploy]

You don't need to thank me. I didn't do it for that. Or for this.

[But John wants this. He wants it more than to take back what he did to Kylo Ren. He wants Poe more than he wants to try and be a better man. It's too late for that. Too late for him.

Looking into Poe's eyes, so dark and wet John could drown in them, he lifts a hand to cup Poe's jaw. They're both so busted up that together they almost make one man. For the first time in John's life he felt some semblance of wholeness.

He never felt so empty when Poe walked away from him. Not until Rodney, Elizabeth, and Carson left him behind. Now John doesn't know how he feels. Most days, if he's lucky, he feels nothing at all.]

I want to.

[Quietly, his thumb stroking Poe's cheekbone, something like a smile ghosts over John's lips. The truth is, John doesn't believe anyone. Not when it comes to loving him. At this point in his life, John's not sure it matters.

Poe doesn't need to want him. All he has to do is need him.]

You're worth it. All of it.

[volitaunt]

[ Sure, John said the last time. I want to, he says now.

It cuts. Poe thinks he probably deserves it. He's betrayed John enough to deserve it. He doesn't move as John strokes his cheek, afraid to break whatever kind of spell they've found themselves under, injured and honest and alone.

Even if John never believes him, right at this moment he's willing to spend as much time as they have trying to prove it.

Poe lets his hands fall away from John's hair, resting them on the man's hips, pulling them together gently.

I've missed you so damn much. ]

I didn't just kiss you because of what you did.

[deploy]

Good. Because I want you to kiss me again.

[John's hands go to Poe's hair, mindful of his stapled scalp, twisting dark curls around his fingers like he's been dying to since Poe stopped being his to touch.

Face to face, body to body, John can almost forget they've been apart for longer than they were together. They fit together in all the wrong ways just right.]

I missed you too. Every goddamn day.

[volitaunt]

[ Poe, for once, obeys. He kisses John, hand going to the back of John's neck.

A half-dozen voices play in his head, people urging him to talk to John, to take the leap, to stop being afraid of what could happen. Figures they were right. Figures he spent all this time holding back for no reason.

Poe's skull is pounding when he breaks the kiss this time, but he doesn't care. ]

I'm sorry. [ Blurted out. What he tried to say back when John was sick, when he pinned Poe against the wall of the shuttle and told him exactly what he thought of him. Something Poe thought he wouldn't really have the chance to say again. ] I'm really sorry, I'm... I fucked up, bad, I know I did.