selfhelp | [IC] Appointments Post

[That kiss has him reeling with pleasure, and he only just barely recovers from it when Billy flips them over, just as Teddy wanted. The feeling of Billy pressing deeper inside him just makes him gasp and shudder, then pant quietly, arms and legs looping more comfortably around his boyfriend as he looks up at him, a smile on his lips and a hazy, pleased look in his eyes.]

Yeah... yeah, you... definitely got the right idea here...

[He bites his bottom lip, then gives his hips a little tilt upward - God, he wants this, it's almost shameful how much he wants this.]

Good to marry someone who's - who's on the same wavelength, ha...

...Like...

[Billy gestures vaguely, but that won't help with Loki much. Uh.

Jock? Slang. Macho? Slang. Douche? Tempting.]

Kind of... a really masculine guy obsessed with Being A Man, drinking, and getting laid. They're basically insecure assholes who won't admit they're insecure assholes.

Oh yes, that is quite accurate.

[He smiles. It's not a nice smile.] The easiest way to pick a fight in Asgard it to imply a man is as a woman.

Thor nearly started a war with the Jotun because one of them called him a princess and told him to run away.

...Mm.

[He sniffles one more time and wipes at his nose, ducking his head again uncertainly. It is hard to imagine any of what happened could be a good thing, but Teddy's right, and that's exactly why he needs to push himself in that direction. Bad experiences can have good moments. Even if he still feels like the problem had been his fault, he'd resolved it. Too late for Thor, but... not too late for Cap.]

I should... talk to him. Sometime. Just to...

[He gestures somewhat uncertainly; to check on him? He's a grown superhero, like he needs some kid chasing after him to see if he's okay. Apologize? Yeah, that sounds more accurate. He should definitely apologize.]

Mm... it's just that I don't know what other method to use. Chanting has always helped me focus, and it seemed pretty effective... maybe my problem was that I got confident enough not to use it.

[...though that doesn't sound quite right, either. Confidence isn't a bad thing, not unless it develops into cockiness. And he'd hit that point, he knows- his argument with Loki before he and Teddy were kidnapped proves that, in hindsight.

So. Confidence good, ego bad. But how to figure out the balance between? He frowns tightly, mulling it over.]

[With Teddy wrapped around him, pulling him closer, deeper still, Billy needs no further prompting. He groans and withdraws almost to the tip before thrusting back in again, getting a feel for the motion and how smooth and comfortable and god, so amazing it feels before doing it again. Eagerly he seeks out a rhythm, leaning in so close that their faces are almost touching, breaths mingling together in heated gasps. It's impossible not to feel so amazingly complete when they're like this.]

Mm... nngh... I really... really like this wavelength, too... oh god, Ted...

That... sounds a lot like something he'd do, yeah.

[Or at least he might in the past. He's not terribly reckless these days. Still, might be a good story for another day.]

Anyway, my point is that just because you people can't admit you have feelings doesn't mean you don't. You're living proof of that, and you're not the only one.

[Loki doesn't have feelings. Just ask Steve Rogers and Tony Stark.

Really, he's the proof of that? He doesn't like anything about this conversation. Or likes it even less, now.]

I am not controlled by my emotions.

[He sounds borderline petulant. And come on, Mr. Bundle-of-Feels-Act-Now-Rationalize-Later. Well, mother did say he understands everyone but himself.]

I just... don't want it to happen again.

...I... okay. Not to point fingers? But we literally just had a conversation about how you drunkenly gave in to feelings you admitted to carrying beyond an experiment, and being drunk only makes you less in control, it doesn't make you imagine up feelings that don't exist.

[He presses a damp cloth to the scratches on Loki's chest, wiping at the blood and, in a way, trying to keep him there and grounded. He doubts any of this is what Loki wants to hear.]

So maybe they first step should be to get over yourself and be as honest with Mr. Silver Tongue as you are with Rogue. You're an emotional person, Loki, and you're sure as hell not fooling me.

[There is no one that Loki lies more to than himself. And he convinces himself quite neatly most days.

There's no nothing wrong with emotions as such, only the vulnerability of them. And he's well aware the most powerful weapon he ever had is his mind. He doesn't like to think it can be overridden in such a way, and so easily.

(This is probably why he's the king of rationalization.)

The problem is right now, he can't think of a convincing counter argument in light of what he's already said. Maybe if he weren't so tired. He scrubs his face with one hand.]

Being drunk doesn't count.

[That's a weak defense and he knows it.

Asgardians are generally passionate people. But there's also a very sweet array of acceptable displays of emotion for men, and Loki learned a long time ago, for example, that laughing is always smarter than crying.]

Then the feelings are the problem, yes? [Obviously. For many reasons.] If I'm driven to fits of madness or acts of great stupidity.

[He sighs.] I was prone to the most pathetic melancholies when I was younger. I kept myself busy. There is nothing to do here.

[He refrains, with some difficulty, from snapping at the first comment. Something about Loki's expression, perhaps. He doesn't have to be happy about it, but he doesn't want to have the same argument all over again. Hmm.]

Feelings don't have to be a problem. And sadness isn't pathetic, either. By themselves, emotions are just emotions. It's what you do with them, how you deal with them that causes those problems. Do you think that everyone who's ever dealt with depression is pathetic?

[Part of the reason Loki is so basically offended by the idea of being depressed, of having such problems, is because he knows he is better than all of the Asgardians, who in turn think themselves far above the mortals, thus he too must be. Asgardians are not so afflicted. At least not the ones who survive. Sharing a disease of the flesh or brain with mortals is not something he wants at all.

He's not quite so self absorbed, even in this moment, that he thinks the answer would get anything but argument from Billy. He's really not in the mood for that kind of argument.

Try to divert, put the unpleasant question back on him.]

Think you that Asgardians are so similar to humans?

[He huffs a laugh.] Let alone whatever it is I am?

[He is so, so not in the mood to deal with Loki's superiority complex, either. But the diversion is more irritating than the prospect of discussing it.]

You didn't answer my question.

Sadness is not pathetic of itself. Anyone might mourn, I suppose.

[He has mourned, with powerful anger, though, after the black sorrow.

Hel. Just get it over with.]

But a melancholy? To be so buried by sourceless black moods that nothing might be done?

[As he has been?]

It is the definition of pathetic.

[Hm.

Hmmm.

Yeah, he's pretty much at his limit for this. His level of done has reached epic proportions. Billy purses his lips, withdrawing the cloth and wiping away the dampness to replace it with a fresh bandage, then silently fishes a fresh shirt out of his supplies to get it on Loki. Much as he's love to snap at that, he doubts it'll help, so he lets his silence speak for itself.]

[The silence is something of a relief. He doesn't like these questions, he doesn't like talking about these things. The wreckage that is Loki has been fully revealed and now he wishes nothing more than to sleep. He remains silent as well.

With luck, they will not speak of this again ever.

Though he also wonders if the silence is a symptom of disgust. It's possible. He's pretty disgusted with himself as well. Will he be seeing Billy again after this?

The question makes him even more tired.

Once the shirt is on, he sits back against the couch, hands limp in his lap. He probably ought to something.]

For your pains, I thank you.

[It's in the middle of the night when it happens. Teddy hardly wakes up for anything, but the feeling of a tightness all across his body and the sound of ripping cloth manages to rouse him enough to try to figure out what's going on.

First, the clothes he's wearing are way too small for him, and yeah, they're purple, but they're like... a lavender color. Second, Billy is not there with him, and Billy's made it a point to be there most of the time when Teddy wakes up. He shifts himself smaller just to make the clothes less comfortable on him, then gets up to get some other clothes for him.

In the closet is another mystery. His clothes are still there, yes, but half of them are girl clothes that are still too small for him, and most of Billy's clothes are missing too. With his half-groggy mind, Teddy has to look back and make sure that this is actually his room, and - one look at the ceiling confirms that yes, it is. The universe above him is dark and idle, indicating that Billy's sleeping. But he's not in the bed...?

With new pajamas on and the older ones discarded, Teddy ambles out of the room, eyes still partially in a squint and hair a mess. It doesn't take too much wandering to find Billy laying there on the couch, asleep and covered up, and Teddy takes a moment to stare blearily before he leans over the back of it.]

Billy? Billyyyy... [What is he even doing on the couch, Teddy doesn't remember putting him in the proverbial doghouse or anything...]

[It usually doesn't take much to wake Billy up, even at such an absurd hour; being a light sleeper can be both blessing and curse at times. After a moment or so he stirs at Teddy's voice, curling up in a reluctant ball on one end of the couch, then rolls partway over and lifts a hand to rub at his eyes. Clarity and memory peek through the fog of his sleep-deprived mind- exiling himself to the couch, the week he's had, Teddie sleeping in the room they used to share...

God, what time is it?]

Hmm...? Did something happen...?

'pparently. What're you doin' on the couch?

[It's even more confusing, Billy seeming to act like nothing happened. Teddy rubs at an eye, trying to figure out just how to word "There are girls' clothes in our closet and I don't know why Billy are you trying to tell me something" properly in his sleep-fogged mind. So far, he's getting nothing.]

[Billy immediately goes still, slowly sliding his fingers down his face to uncover his now-open eyes so he can stare. The voice is Teddy's. And the face is Teddy's. Not the girl, not some alternate universe fun-but-not-who-he-wants version, but his Teddy. His breath catches in his throat, and he keeps his hands where they are, pressed over his mouth, his voice muffled. Nearly all traces of sleep are gone, now- he's awake but not entirely sure that he is.]

...Is this a dream?

[Don't wake up don't wake up don't wake up-]

Um. [Teddy looks back at their room, where the door is open and the shredded girl-pajamas lie on the floor.] I was about to say no, but I just ripped through some clothes and I found some girl ones in the closet, so I dunno anymore. But prob'ly not.

[Billy can't help but have doubts, because he is seriously not this lucky ever, but he won't just lie here and wonder about it. With Teddy's confirmation he finally drops his hands down to use them as leverage, getting up to his knees so he's high enough to lean in and get his arms around Teddy's waist, burying his face in his boyfriend's shirt. Sure feels real to him.]

...Oh my god... oh my god, Teddy... thank god, you're...

[He can't help it- much as he tries to fight, he starts trembling, shaken with relief and the worry he'd been holding on to and hiding all week. This can't be a dream. Even his own subconscious wouldn't be so cruel.]

[... Well. That makes Teddy wake up, or at least a little more. He pauses, blinks a few times to get more sleep out of his eyes, then winds his arms around Billy, a bit concerned and a bit confused. What just happened here...?]

Bee? Babe, what happened? I'm okay, I'm right here...

[Now that he thinks about it... he did have a weird dream about walking around as a girl for a while. It's a bit fuzzy, but...]

[Billy wants to answer, wants to settle down immediately and reassure Teddy that he's fine, just fine. He wants to explain himself properly, too; by the obvious confusion in Teddy's voice, it's easy to tell that he doesn't remember what happened.

And that's... sad, in a way. Does that mean that Teddie was just a shifted creation? Or did they really switch places for a week? The fact that he doesn't have all of the answers makes it harder to speak, too.

More than that, though... how can he explain what he's feeling right now? The crushing relief of knowing that he didn't lose his love, that he doesn't have to endure this place without the man he'd promised to spend the rest of his life with? How can he describe the despair he'd been living with, the uncertainty, the juggle between enjoying his female counterpart's company and feeling Teddy's absence like a gaping hole in his heart?

There aren't really words for all of that. So he shakes his head a bit helplessly, shoulders shaking as he lets the grateful tears fall. He's not ready just yet. He just needs to indulge in this for a while.]

[Teddy would like to ask just what's wrong, even though bits and pieces are starting to come together, and he can almost guess at what happened. But instead of asking, he just shuts his eyes, tightens his hold and lifts a hand to run his fingers through Billy's hair. He knows, he knows that Billy will tell him in due time, that he just needs to get this out of him first. Sadness, maybe? Or is it relief? It must be relief, with the thanks he was giving earlier.

So Teddy just stays as he is, holding Billy close and letting himself be a solid presence, and giving his boyfriend all the time he needs.]

[IC] Appointments Post

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