driftfleet | JULY PLANET MINGLE

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JULY PLANET MINGLE

Who: YOU. ME. EVERYONE.
Broadcast: IF YOU WANT
Action: YEAH!!!!!
When: July!

[Congratulations to the crews that did not get themselves blown up! Welcome to the Blue Planet, a planet full of charming islands and even less charming weather patterns! Are you going to take the time to enjoy the beach? Help out with the local Nunnilis population? Get caught in a storm with another person and have a rating boosting sexual tension moment? The world's your oyster!]

[Yeah in other words: ITS A MINGLE GET IN HERE]

[July Planet Info!]

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[It would, perhaps, be a good idea to watch Joseph now. It might make it easier to understand all the things he's saying and all the things he isn't. It might give Caesar the key to comprehending what he means when he hesitates, what's going through his mind during those infinitesimal pauses between words.]

[But Joseph's hand turns over under his, and Caesar looks down at the table automatically. He has to listen without looking, he thinks; there's no way he can do both and register the way that their fingers brush, the rough warmth of Joseph's callused palm under his. He shouldn't have had anything to drink at all, although he's wondering now if that would have made any difference. If the only way he could have managed this day with any kind of dignity was if neither of them had said a word or looked at each other since the morning.]

[That's not what happened, though. What happened was everything, too much for one day to contain, and it's still happening. No matter what he does or thinks or says, he can't seem to make it stop. And maybe he doesn't want it to. Maybe he's prolonging it on purpose. They didn't have to go to dinner; they could have gone back to their ships if they'd wanted, or just gone their separate ways.]

[But being without Joseph now, even for a moment, is like torture. It's impossible, ridiculous, but Caesar feels as though, in the instant between dying and coming back to life, years went by during which he missed Joseph terribly. It isn't a fair thing to think, because Joseph is the one who missed him - but that doesn't change the fact that it feels true, or the fact that touching him is an anchor. If the day ends and he hasn't felt Joseph's hand on his shoulder, he doesn't feel quite real, as though all of this new life is a pain-induced hallucination, and he has to touch his hand to his face to make sure he isn't still bleeding.]

[This is the only way he can survive. And he thinks - because Joseph stays, despite his obvious anger - that his friend needs this, too.]

[His fingers curl slightly into Joseph's palm, grazing his wrist; his thumb brushes the side of his hand. A moment of soft silence, and then, with his free hand, he reaches out to cup Joseph's cheek, his mouth curving into a helpless smile.]

I'm very lucky. I wouldn't trade it for anything.

[This is stupid.]

[It's his first, instinctive thought, but it's unclear even to Joseph what he's even referring to because it seems to be happening again. It's that weird sensation where Joseph is narrowly focused and that focus happens to be falling to Caesar right now and everything to do with him. He didn't think it would happen again, was hopeful that it wouldn't because it makes his stomach churn and his head feel light in an uncomfortable way. He just wanted things to be as they were, as they're supposed to be, but something keeps happening that he doesn't understand and feels infinitely frustrated by because he has no idea what it is, how to explain it, or how to deal with it.]

[But he's acutely aware of Caesar's hands. The brush of his fingers on his wrist and hand are enough to send a slight shiver up his spine that he's forced to stifle. The gentle hold that Caesar takes of his face is enough to make his gaze dip from Caesar's eyes when he feels a lump in his throat rise up and cheeks begin to warm. He's not stupid. He knows that's embarrassment he's feeling, but he doesn't know why and he knows even less why Caesar is touching him like this. Like he would a--]

[He starts to pull away his hand, but he gets caught by his own fingers as they curl just enough to catch Caesar's by their tips. It lasts for only a second or two longer before Joseph's hand flinches away, turning back down and closing into a loose fist on the table. With the back of his other hand, he brushes Caesar's hand away from his cheek.]

[This is stupid and he doesn't like it, but he doesn't know where and what parts are stupid and he doesn't like. Joseph leans back some, swallowing and then clearing his throat by coughing as he looks around the restaurant. He spots the original owner of Caesar's entree getting back to their table and snorts without feeling it because he feels like an asshole. But he has to laugh because it's what he's supposed to do, it's how things are supposed to be.]

Caesar, check it out, [he says nodding towards the other patron without looking at Caesar because he's afraid of what he'll see if he looks. He starts laughing at the slightly horrified and perplexed look.] That's why you shouldn't get up when you're in a restaurant. Not when I'm around anyway.

[Christ, why is he talking? Why is he doing anything that he's doing right now? Joseph's not the type to resent himself, but he does a little right now because he should at least have the balls enough to look at Caesar right now instead of watching the drama unfold at the other table. But he can't. Not even out of the corner of his eye.]

[For just a moment, connected to Joseph as he is, Caesar is happy. So happy - maybe happier than he's ever been. It feels right, to be here as they are, to feel warmth rising to Joseph's cheek and to be made strangely giddy by it.]

[But then, in a succession of seconds that seem to take forever and yet last no time at all, he's pushed away easily and efficiently, like Joseph's swatting at an annoying bug invading his personal space. It hits like a punch in the gut, and for all Caesar is sure Joseph didn't mean it to, for all he's certain that Joseph doesn't have any more idea what's going on than he does, he can't stop the pain from shifting quickly and easily into anger.]

[He could throttle Joseph. He really could. It would be easy to knock the table out of the way and throw him to the ground, take him by surprise, haul off and hit him. He's done worse to people who deserved it less, he knows instinctively, even though he couldn't pinpoint Joseph's crime if he had to.]

[But what would happen after that? He'd hit Joseph, and they'd fight, and they'd end up in the same place they did in the ocean, wouldn't they, this same dead end where their eyes catch and Caesar forgets how to breathe or talk or think, where Joseph pulls away. He doesn't like this place. Or rather, he likes the beginning of it, the getting lost. The getting lost is nice. It's when they hit the wall that it hurts.]

[The connection that Joseph almost makes is lost on Caesar, at least consciously. But on some level, the second Joseph pulls away, a need to reconnect rises up in Caesar along with the anger - to reconnect with someone, anyone, it doesn't matter who. And when Caesar raises his eyes and sees the waitress watching him, he knows immediately that he is not going anywhere with Joseph tonight. This is where he should be, with her; she knows what she wants, he thinks bitterly, unlike either of them.]

[This time, he doesn't bother hiding his assessment of her, or the slow smile he shoots her way when she feels the weight of his gaze and goes a little red. A vicious part of him hopes that Joseph sees, and he doesn't understand that, either, because it shouldn't matter.]

[After a moment, though, he does turn to watch the show, his eyes narrowed and his chin on his hand.]

I hope it twitches going down his throat.

[It's an unnecessarily cruel thing to say. Caesar doesn't care.]

[Because Joseph is so pointedly not looking at Caesar, he misses the look Caesar is sending the waitress entirely. But when Caesar decides to comment on what's happening over at the other table, his attention does finally settle back on Caesar. His head turns slightly so that his gaze can settle on Caesar fully and he knows Caesar is angry with him. He wants to get angry back at him. It should be an easy thing to do because he feels like he's being punished for something he didn't do, or at the very least didn't mean to do. But there's something inside of Joseph that feels too small, exhausted, and overwhelmed to do that. So, he doesn't say anything even if that's uncharacteristically a very cruel thing for Caesar to say. Instead, he wants to try and smooth things over, but he doesn't know how to do that either.]

[So, he just ends up turning away from the other table completely. He can't fake interest after a comment like that. It feels too vindictive and cruel now. He feels low from multiple angles now and he's trying very hard to ignore how much he feels like he's screwed up. Listlessly, he rests a cheek on a fist and pushes noodles around on his plate. He furrows his brow and pushes his plate away.]

I'm full.

[Two words and they couldn't sound more petulant, more self-pitying even if he tried as he tries to curl himself around any form of anger. Whatever he can get his hands on. Anything to stop feeling this crummy.]

[Caesar isn't even going to bother to pretend. He doesn't touch what's left of his food, or the drinks that are scattered around the table. He just watches as Joseph tries and fails to redirect his attention to the food. Like he's trying to fix something. Well, Caesar's too tired tonight to try anymore.]

[His eyes are cool on Joseph's, his fingers still tingling with the memory of Joseph's hand in his.]

No dessert?

[Two words, and he couldn't sound more icily furious if he tried. He wants to shove Joseph against the wall and scream curses at him. He wants to slap him and leave without a word. He wants to kiss that girl, right here and right now where everyone can see. He wants--]

[He doesn't know what he wants.]

[Joseph bristles.]

You still want it?

[He doesn't know why he even bothers to ask. Joseph has a pretty strong hunch what the answer is going to be and he doesn't want to hear it because he knows it's going to sting. He just finds somewhere else to look with his eyes and tries to keep his expression as calm and as neutral as possible.]

[He snorts, glancing away, his gaze raking the room like he's looking for something he's lost. It feels like he is.]

You don't.

[Want to stay. Want him. They seem like the same thing to Caesar right now, and if Joseph doesn't want it, then it doesn't matter what Caesar wants, does it?]

[He's distantly aware that he's conflating things that have nothing to do with each other, that he's being savage and cruel and he doesn't need to be. But tomorrow he'll be able to pretend like he barely remembers it, and they'll get past it, and for now - for now he just needs to be angry or he thinks sadness might swallow him whole.]

I didn't say that, [he snaps without meaning to. In his eagerness to not react, he can't help but react. Joseph's never been all that good at keeping cool and collected, but especially not when something like that digs under his skin.]

[And it shouldn't bother him this much, should it? He doesn't think it should. He's pretty sure it shouldn't. But it does and no matter how much he tries to pretend that he's not affected, Joseph isn't the type of person who can mask his emotions. He may be able to hide what he's thinking, but never what he's feeling. It always slips out either through his eyes or his body language.]

[He rubs at his eyes with a thumb and index finger, pressing hard enough that stars pop and flash against the dark before he briefly pinches the bridge of his nose. He feels exhausted and frustrated and angry and hurt and he just. He just.]

I'm just done with that. That's all.

[He can see Joseph scrub at his face with his hand, even out of the corner of his eye. He can see that this is hurting him. But he's trying very hard not to care. If he can keep from caring long enough to get out of here, to distract himself, tomorrow will be back to normal and he won't ever have to think about this again.]

[Part of him knows that's bullshit. But he has to believe in it if he's going to get out of here without blowing up or breaking down. He feels frayed and fragile, as though he's much smaller and more helpless than he is, and Joseph has the power to pull him apart or put him back together with the quietest word, the slightest gesture.]

I thought I wanted it.

[His voice is very low, barely audible, as he scans the room.]

But maybe I should go. It's been a long day.

Maybe you should.

[It's not what he means to say. Not even close. What he really means is that he's not about to make Caesar stay if he doesn't want to. But it seems obvious to him that Caesar doesn't want to and he knows he doesn't want to hear that directly from Caesar's mouth. Thus, he doesn't give Caesar the option. He just gives him what he wants, which seems to be an easy escape.]

[He pushes.]

[Caesar doesn't want to stay, it's true. But he doesn't want to go, either. He wants Joseph to ask him to stay, to hold him here with his words or his eyes or his hands, to want him here. He wants to be wanted in a way he never did before he met Joseph, and part of him resents Joseph terribly for that. It was easier before. Painful in a different way, one that didn't revolve around anyone but Caesar.]

[But Joseph doesn't hold him here. Joseph lets him go, pushes him away, and Caesar is struck with the urge to grab him by the collar and shake him, make him understand - what? What the hell does he want Joseph to understand? If he could just make him feel what he's feeling, this hurt, this loneliness, this exhaustion, if he could press it into Joseph's chest so it aches where he aches, God, he would in a second. Without regret.]

[What he wants doesn't matter, though. That's incredibly clear.]

[He lays his fork and knife on his plate, folds his napkin, prim and precise, and stands quickly enough to shake the table. Throwing a few bills on the table for the drinks, he glances at Joseph evenly.]

Have a good night, Joseph.

[He leaves the table without another word. But he doesn't leave the restaurant, not yet. Instead he crosses the room in a few quick strides and catches their waitress, who has been watching all this with bemusement, by the elbow. She looks up at him, and he smiles down at her in a way that doesn't quite reach his eyes. Then he leans in close and says something into her ear, low enough that she has to lean in close to hear. When he pulls away again, she's smiling tentatively at him, and he tips his chin up, satisfied, lifting one eyebrow. They've reached an understanding.]

[Then he leaves the restaurant, and doesn't look back.]

[He watches Caesar get up and leave without saying anything, but he tries not to watch him with the waitress. He just finds a spot to stare at the table instead, drumming the fingers of his free hand lightly on the table with his brow furrowed. He knows what's probably happening, what shitty pick-up line Caesar is using on her. His lip curls slightly, for just a fraction of a second as his stomach twists itself into a knot and his shoulders tense as he thinks of what stupid face she's probably making at him in return as she falls for hook, line, and sinker. Aside from his fingers though, Joseph remains perfectly still. He knows if he moves, he'll look at Caesar and he doesn't want to. He can feel Caesar as he steps away from the waitress and heads out, but he doesn't lift his gaze from the spot on the table to watch him leave. That's not something he wants to watch again. Not now, not ever.]

[Joseph's mood doesn't recover. It's arguable that he doesn't even make an attempt to salvage his mood as he simply stews in his head. He's angry with Caesar. No, he's furious and he blames him.]

[It doesn't matter how angry you are at me. I'm not leaving.]

[He doesn't look at the waitress as she comes to clear the table, now a little more sheepish which just makes him angry with her. Angry, but he won't take it out on her at the very least. At least not in any active sort of way, though she can expect he's going to stiff her on the tip. It's petty and childish, something he'll feel bad about later because it wasn't her fault, but in the moment he sure as hell won't. He'll feel justified.]

[By the time dessert does get brought out (the closest thing this planet has to gelato), Joseph simply settles on being a little angry at himself both for obvious and inexplicable reasons. He didn't want to make Caesar stay, but he should have. He shouldn't have let him walk away like that, anyway. Of course, that's with the implication that he could have salvaged anything at this point. But Joseph knows he'd fucked it up beyond repair faster than he could figure it out.]

[You leave and I'm just going to follow you again anyway. I don't care how much you complain or try to insult me.]

[Joseph drops his spoon with a clatter. He hasn't had a single bite of dessert and the gelato is more like soup at this point. He just wants to leave and flags down the waitress. He pays, she tells him to have a good night (clearly unsure of what else to say to him beyond the standard script), and he ignores her entirely. When he gets back to his ship, he says nothing to anyone and retreats to his room. He tosses and turns for a while, not really tired and still too wound up to sleep, but he tries anyway. He tries to stop replaying everything that happened today, but his mind keeps skipping straight ahead to that last part where he colossally fucked up, where he should have said or done anything that wasn't exactly what happened.]

[It's hours before he can get to sleep, but eventually he wears himself out enough that sleep takes him without his notice followed by morning coming far too fast.]

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JULY PLANET MINGLE

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