driftfleet | Let's all hold hands and sing Kumbaya

That seems more likely.

[you know, if he had actually had the brain to think it out more than he already has. He finds that, at least for now, he doesn't want to. It's firmly set as a "magical" effect in his head and going deeper into trying to understand it always results in a headache, and that's the last thing he'd want to share with her. Love and ridiculously sappy feelings were perfectly okay, though. He had plenty of those.

Worse comes to worse, he knows being overwhelmed isn't a matter of "if", but "when", and if they do decide to take a walk on the beach later, he has the serum down here with him and plenty still on the ship. It isn't much of a concern here, alone with her - it never is. And he feels warm just thinking about that, that he can loosen the grips he has on his control enough to enjoy being with her and put most of his worries aside.

It's hard not to give in and lean down to kiss her. So he does, quick and gentle and soft]

He'll survive. He has Charles to hold hands with.

We can look into it later if you want.

[ Because right now they're a tiny bit distracted. It's a magical effect that they hadn't really had much experience with - or, really, she didn't - and it's unusual and odd and different. Trying to think of the logical scientific side is difficult when it just screams magic and dangerous things for when she's around someone she doesn't know. She's safe here, of course, there's no one else she feels quite as safe with, but outside the walls and away from Hank... She's not sure what to expect, not really, but at least she's used to that phenomenon.

There's no fear about losing control or losing her mind, at least. She might be prickly about the empathy and it might be enough to irritate her, but she can handle it. There's nothing to worry about when she's here with Hank and they're taking each other, and that calms the whirlpool around her and inside her, little emotions that are tangled up with all the rest. She knows that Hank won't judge her and she knows that Hank would take care of her - and she would also take care of him.

Leaning forward, she gives Hank another kiss, soft and gentle, touching his cheek with the bare tips of her fingers, the pads brushing along his skin. ]

You're much better at it, though. No bias at all.

Mm, maybe. If I can think straight long enough to manage it.

[putting logic and science to it would require him to stay away from her long enough to manage it, and even now, even if they're not touching he doesn't think he could manage it. Like the moon they've managed to find their own private, little space and he wants to take advantage of that however they can, when they're done with their work and there aren't any other obligations.

He immediately tilts his head into her touch, lips quirking in a faint smile. Brief touches like that aren't as intense, but she'll still be able to tell he's incredibly content, and that her comment makes him feel just the tiniest bit shy. It isn't intense but it's still something, and he doesn't mind sharing the little things with her, either. They're far past the point where acceptance is an issue]

Oh? How do you figure? Ignoring your bias that you don't have.

At least we're not together all the time. We'd never be able to get anything done.

[ Not that she would mind being with Hank more than she already is, which is quite often, but she thinks she would literally lose her mind a little. Hank is the only person she knows that she's comfortable seeing into her and knowing her feelings; it's not the same as sharing her thoughts or sharing her memories or having her privacy taken from her, not really, because Hank already knows. She's told him that she loves him and she gives it to him without hesitation because she has nothing else that he doesn't know about; there's no fear.

It's not the same for others.

His shyness is still sweet, and knowing he's happy, even he's a little shy and a little lost - it makes her giggly, shaking her head as she pushes herself up so she can lean over him, hair hanging between them like a curtain. When he speaks she softens, her gaze flickering over his face before she speaks. ]

You have big hands. That automatically makes you better. [ And her fingers trail against his now, her focus there. ] And you're my boyfriend. That means you have to be the best.

We could get plenty done, we just wouldn't be able to touch each other.

[which - they could certainly manage it, but he doesn't necessarily want to. It would be nice, to be able to take her out to the beach and hold her hand as they walk. He'd like to be able to do those little gestures he can manage in public without worrying about them getting overwhelmed or - in his case, turning blue in the middle of a crowd. Or worst case, a memory gets shared she wasn't ready for.

Because he knows everything about her . . . but she doesn't know everything about him. Not yet. And through something like this - this is not how he wants to share some of it.

He huffs a noise, because he can feel all of that and it only makes him feel even shyer. He ducks his head as she leans close, and his fingers twitch as hers touch his, and he can't help but turn his hand over to clasp them] They're not that big. [it's a token protest at best] I knew you were biased.

Then what's the point?

[ Raven had always been affectionate with the people she cared about; she can remember how often she draped herself over Charles, how many times she would hug him or lie down beside him or just settle for a long, long embrace when the night wrapped them in a blanket of privacy. Her time away from her family had shattered that a little, of course, but it didn't stop her urges; she wanted to feel more of the familiar comforts, and she basks in being able to be this close to Hank.

Maybe he won't understand her need, how much she wants to have something familiar and normal in the midst of everything else that feels wrong, but that's fine. Maybe he would, and that would be fine too. All that matters is that they're together.

Their hands are touching again and that familiar connection fizzes back to life - and all Raven does is embrace it. In a way this is practice for what she wants in the future; the ability to share herself with Hank and, just as importantly, with Charles. She wants to overcome the obstacles between them and this is a good way to start to overcome her fear and her shame. ]

They're bigger than mine. [ Her smile is soft, fond. ] And I'm speaking objectively.

Practicing restraint?

[it might've even been a real suggestion if he hadn't half-laughed it out.

Hank would understand, though, more than she thinks he would. The last few months of his life had been a mess of what was normal and what wasn't, being conditioned to one world only to have to re-learn their own again, and settling back into any sort of routine had been anything but easy. Even now, he has to consciously stop himself from falling back onto that conditioning. But Raven hadn't been there; and he was glad for that, because she was familiar and not tainted by another world like he was, broken in ways that he was still piecing back together. She was home, as fierce and beautiful as she'd ever been, and he holds onto that like his life depends on it. And in a way it does.

So he gets it. So, so much.

This is more manageable, though, the connection they have now. Rather than going up in flames it's a slow burn, and he's more careful this time not to get caught up in overwhelmed by how she feels. He knows it won't last very long and they'll get caught up all over again, but - he's okay with that, too]

That isn't objective at all.

That seems like a waste of time.

[ When had she ever had restraint? Not at Oxford, and certainly not back at the mansion, or in Cuba. She barely had any in Washington, and it was only Charles that had urged her to relax and actually not do something that she would have done in her own wildness. Raven isn't used to having to hold herself back on things that weren't her mutation, considering how long she had kept that locked away and hidden from the world. Being able to be free is a gift, and she basks.

Her attention is drawn back to Hank swiftly no matter what, though, and her attention is soft and gentle as her fingers press into his, her thumb over his knuckles. This is enough; there's a gentle to and fro of their emotions, a passing between them and the connection isn't a scream anymore. It's almost like an intimate whisper now, and she can take that. It's not too much and she feels warmed as she shifts an inch closer - even though she has to remind herself not to invade his space too much.

They'll get back to kissing and touching and maybe losing control with each other, but until then she can have this and it feels like more than enough. ]

Saying your hands are bigger than mine isn't objective? Bigger hands obviously feel better when you're holding them, if you've got the smaller hands.

It's a form of control. I could spin in a way that doesn't sound like a waste of time.

[he does know how she is, because she had been so completely new to him when they'd first met; confident and proud and even moreso after she'd accepted her mutation, he couldn't help but admire her for the things she could manage that he couldn't. And after that - well, she'd demonstrated that much, too. In Paris, in Washington, Raven was not one for restraint and it took all of that for all of them to really realize that.

At least like this, he can string two thoughts together coherently. He doesn't feel like he's going to lose his mind or lose himself in how she feels about him - it's manageable. There's a gentle burst of warmth as she shifts close, a quiet, welcoming feeling. He always likes being close to her, and he isn't ashamed of sharing that.

He huffs and carefully shifts their hands so he can lace his fingers through hers, and it's odd, but it's the first time he's really noticed just how big his hands are compared to hers. He's never bothered to really pay attention to it]

It's not objective because I can feel how objective you aren't being. [what a brat]

I still won't believe it, not when you've told me you're going to spin it.

[ Laying here, right now, Raven thinks about how the moments she'd lacked control before had all been awkward and different and borne of trying to be someone she wasn't. She wasn't a killer, not really, and she wasn't as dangerously flirty as she was when she'd first met Hank. She had just liked him so much that her rationality had betrayed her a little. Now that she's older and she can look back she feels a little embarrassed. She'd pushed and pushed and... It hasn't worked out for either of them. It hadn't ended well.

Now she can lie here, relaxing and at peace and know that she's not doing anything that Hank might find too much. They're open with each other and in this moment they're so deeply connected that there's no worry. Raven knows that if she's doing something wrong she'll feel it, and right now she just thinks that this is wonderful. She can feel a gentle trickle of Hank's feelings and he can feel here and... It's okay.

She isn't scared anymore.

Huffing a noise, she shakes her head, squeezing his hand. ]

Stop cheating, Hank.

[ She does smile, though, her expression soft and tender. ]

Or kiss me.

I was being half-serious? It really is a form of control, I'm just in agreement that it's a waste of time - right now, at least.

[she may have pushed, but it didn't change that he fallen for her the moment they met. She was dangerously flirt, and then sweet, and it had been like discovering a whole new world in the sense that he'd never felt - accepted. He'd never bonded with someone over something so personal before. And even years later, he still felt that. It might not have worked out for them in the past, but they were different now, older. They knew the boundaries, because they were working them out themselves, in their own time, without the world pressing down around them.

Maybe all of this will work in their favor, too. That even if she thinks she's doing something wrong she'll know immediately that it's very likely that she is't - it's just his own insecurities getting in the way, or vice versa. It certainly works for him, that now he can share things without needing words behind it, that she can tell exactly how he feels about her, and everything she makes him feel, and there's no doubt in it.

He really likes that he doesn't have to fumble for words. Especially now, when instead of bothering to think of a response he just leans in as requested, his other hand coming up to cup her cheek as he kisses her, soft and gentle]

We can try it later.

[ Once upon a time she might have just climbed up into his lap and taken what she wanted from him, to wrap her arms around him and sit in his lap - and she might still do things like that, really, considering how she is with Hank. She's relearned boundaries and she's enjoying what it means to get close to him and move closer to him, to see what it really means to love someone and want to be around them, and take care of them. She wants to be there for Hank and she's glad she can feel it, glad she can be there, that she's here.

There's no real need to talk anymore now either. She could, of course. She could sit and wax some kind of poetry and sit and tell him a thousand and one things, but when they touch all of their thoughts and feelings as pressed into one another, like sand on a beach, brushing over until they're tangled up and she can't tell one from the other. She doesn't really see the need to spoil the moment with something as idle as words, not when she's not sure what to say.

It's easier, then, to move close, to tilt her head and kiss him. Hank's hand against her cheek is lovely, soft and warm and another point of connection, and pressing into it is almost second nature. The only thing she can do is let her body shift towards his, as if she's drawn to him by some gravitational force, her own hand touching his knuckles before it lies flat against the back of his, holding him against her face.

She doesn't want to move. ]

[entirely objectively, he knows that them continuously getting caught up in this is a bad idea. That it can't all be pleasant feelings the whole time, especially with the two of them and the issues that still lay between them. Objectively, he knows that all it takes is a single word or thought or even action for it to get to that point, and while it isn't a worry, per say, it's still a possibility. He meant it when he said he'd take the good with the bad, but he wasn't sure if she felt the same in that respect. He had a lot of bad still hidden from her.

In Kyriakos, the norm had been sharing memories, either on purpose or by accident. Feelings not as often but it had happen, for one reason or another. But even then, when his control had come from literally removing a piece of soul, it still was never like this. Never this deep or this warm, and never something he didn't want to stop. Even knowing that it could backfire on them down the line, he wanted nothing more than to simply sit here and kiss her, and a little selfishly, let her feelings for her wash over all of his doubts and make them go away.

He really doesn't want to move. Except closer, and he shifts just enough to do that, and honestly, it takes all of his willpower not to just pull her even closer than that]

[ Neither of them are strangers to curling up in bed and being pressed close, to basking in each other and enjoying nothing but their own shared company - it's what they had done night after night on the ship and continued here, only in slightly more comfortable living conditions. The bed might be bigger but Raven is happier to move closer and press herself as close to Hank as she dares get, swimming in their shared emotions and feel it warm her, knowing that she's safe and secure here.

Maybe one day they'll be able to share more without the press of a planet to guide them; soon Raven might even feel comfortable enough to ask him about the world he was in before now, the horrors he faced there and the dangers that came hand in hand with it. One day she might feel brave enough to whisper to him in the middle of the night and share his fears alongside her own, the way she still feels misplaced, as if she's trying to fight for a mould in a pattern that she doesn't seem to be a part of. They'll be able to be frank with each other, and all the prickling feelings of doubt and confusion will disappear in a moment.

Until then, she has this.

If it wasn't for the fear of losing control entirely Raven would be against Hank in every single way, curling her body around his and pressing each other close. The beach might be out for now but there's more than that for them to enjoy - and their bedroom is good enough for now, too. The more they get used to this the easier it'll be, and she makes a soft noise against his mouth before she leans back to breathe, closing her eyes for a moment and just... Basking. ]

[there's so much mixed in with the things he doesn't want to share that it's hard to separate sometimes; he wants to tell her about the two girls he thinks of as menacing little sisters, the friends he made there; he wants to work up to introducing her to some of the people who have been brought here, like Adelina. Maybe once they get past the difficult things he can tell her about the good, that it wasn't all bad, that there were times where he actually enjoyed himself.

But sometimes memories spring to mind against a person's will; sometimes, one thought leads to another and it's suddenly there, out in the open before one can pull back. With thoughts of warmth and love and Kyriakos on his mind, more or less, a memory gets passed along their connection, cute and awkward and humorous when one looks back on it.

He realizes it too late and while he doesn't panic, exactly, as she draws back he looks apologetic. He doesn't pull away, as much as the urge to awkwardly fidget springs to life, and he watches her carefully, unsure of what he's looking for]

Sorry. [it comes out a little weakly]

[ She is entirely focused on Hank and revels in it up until the moment that the memory slips into her mind and she's forced to consider it. Honestly, she's not surprised that it's happened - with how close they are and how they've been talking about connections and memories, her own thoughts straying to that place... It was probably closer to inescapable. The truth is that she doesn't mind, really, and she's glad to have it without asking too much because she's afraid of the answers.

Raven tilts back and focuses on the memory, on what Hank has accidentally given her. At first she doesn't really have a high opinion of it and her nose wrinkles, but... Then it goes on and she knows she's the subject. Blade, that's Erik, and Miles had to be Charles... And it's sweet. The awkwardness and the nature of it is so completely Hank that she smiles without realising it, her expression soft as she leans back to look, opening her eyes.

He's right there, and Raven gazes, drinking him in. A part of her had been worried that someone else might have dragged his attention away from her, selfishly, but knowing that he remembered her, even a little, with some kind of fondness... That's good. She can't hide the way she softens, and she leans in to kiss him gently, soft and chaste and gentle, resting her forehead against his as she relaxes.

Strangely, she's happy. ]

You don't have to apologise. It's okay.

[if anything, that memory is a good sign that no one could take his attention away. That had been early on, when real names were still awkward and he barely knew about himself, let alone anything else from their world. It's a good memory, at least, if not one that leaves him feeling awkward and a little embarrassed, now that she's smiling and kissing him over it.

He huffs out a weak noise and lets her draw him a little closer, closing his eyes as well. He's glad it's okay, at least. That it was that memory over a dozen others]

Okay. [he squeezes her hand a little and takes a deep breath] That - was the only memory I had of you at the time.

[ She wonders what it must have been like, then, for Hank, to not know his name or his history and be given a random memory of a girl too forward and a little overwhelming, not recognising her for who she was but trying to understand what she meant to him. It must have been a mess, and her heart aches a little at the idea of it, new understanding dawning on her and wrapping around her shoulders before she breathes out. It's difficult, but this is part of the process. She wants to learn and that means accepting everything she can.

Careful, she pushes herself up, drawing Hank against her body and wrapping an arm around him, fingers stroking through his hair gently, trying to press upon him her love and affection and her thankfulness that she got to see something of his life before, see something that had helped shaped him into the person he was now. ]

So you just remembered a really intense girl talking to you? You poor man.

[he laughs a little and goes easily, and her affection does exactly what it always does; wash over him in a wave, pushing away all of the not quite as pleasant feelings he may have. He turns his head to kiss her cheek]

I didn't think she was intense. [he hums a little, and thinking on the memory proper brings up good feelings as well, even if some of them are just a little bittersweet. They always are, thinking about things back before Cuba] Just - forward.

[and his voice takes on a teasing quality] I think I might've really liked her - too bad some jerk came along and interrupted us.

[ Raven thinks that it's easy to make light of it, to push it all away and pretend as though there aren't scars to prod at and memories to bring to life - it's easier to pretend that there's nothing hidden between the two of them. She's bared most of her secrets to Hank, true, but not all of them, and some things would never really be put to voice until they were ready to do it, until they were ready to put everything on the table.

Memories flicker, of small blue hands, of Azazel, and she stomps them down. Hopefully, if he picks up on them, Hank will just think they're tangled up memories of her own childhood, with Azazel there just because of memories of past lovers. She can shrug it away for now, focussing on him, on her own delight and the huff of laughter that follows. ]

Forward - I remember that word. [ Hank apologising for being forward because he asked to take her blood. It was a date, but it wasn't, not really, and her heart aches at the reminder. ] I hope you kick that jerk's ass one day. He knew what he was doing and it wasn't nice.

[at least they're mostly scars now, rather than open wounds. Newer scars, still sensitive in places, but they didn't hurt to think about anymore. Sometimes it really feels as though it was a lifetime away, with how much he's changed since, now that "normal" was no longer a concern. He'd let go of a lot of things from those days. He's glad he never did let go of Raven.

He picks up on them, and - he'd have to be an idiot not to recognize what they are. Not when he recognizes the red skin, not when he knows already, and - he isn't sure how to feel about them. It's like there's a hiccup in the steady feelings of warmth he's been sharing with her, a moment of being unsure and even guilty, because he shouldn't be seeing those. He knows he shouldn't, and it's something they don't talk about. Not when she isn't ready.

So he focuses back on the memory at hand instead, but files that away for another time. When they're both ready to face it] I think I strangled him once or twice. He definitely deserved it the second time.

[ It's difficult, when there's so many things between them that could remain unsaid and not whispered, and Raven feels the need to push it down and away. She can't let herself fall into the trap of being too much and baring her soul too easily, not anymore, no matter how much she trusts Hank; she's grown up so much and become so jaded by the world that she doesn't want to run the risk of him seeing it and her losing herself somehow, as if she might end up tripping and stumbling into the person Charles had stopped her from becoming.

Her eyes squeeze shut and this is the problem - they can feel everything. She knows Hank has seen and that he understands, but she shrugs it off mentally and focusses on her own love and affection for him instead, basking in what it means to curl in his arms. He's warm and solid and she doesn't have to worry about him disappearing; he's right here, right beside her, and no one is going to take him from her. She would fight until the end for him, for Charles, for Erik, and her heart feels like it might explode from just how intense she is about it.

There's no way for her not to huff a laugh, at least, and she tilts herself back, glancing up to shake her head fondly. ] He probably had it coming. [ And then she leans forward, offering him a gentle kiss. ] He won't interrupt us now.

[Raven isn't the only one jaded by the world; he watched what two worlds did to the people closest to them, saw echoes of a third, and while his own experiences weren't nearly the same, they still had an effect. It's why that while he had hope, he didn't - couldn't - exactly believe that hope was the only thing they needed. One only had to look at his upbringing to see why he feels that way, even now not able to trust a world that still wasn't sure what to think of them. Still Hank, but with a slightly different outlook upon the world.

He isn't going anywhere, and he focuses on his feelings for her as well, even if there's a faint sense of something in the background, now. Nothing bad, but it's hard to put a word to, now that he's seen it. He doesn't want to put a word to it, because it means it'll come up and . . . they're enjoying this. He isn't going to ruin it because his mind goes to places against his will.

He kisses her back with a smile and huffs, as if the idea of Erik walking in on them is actually possible.

. . . knowing their luck, it might be]

He better not.

[ It's not as if the world had been particularly kind to them; it had been cruel, and venomous, and had ripped all the good things in their lives out of their hands and thrown it away. All she knows is that they have to try and make the best of what they've been given and move forward with it, trusting in each other and basking in what they could do and share as a couple, and... Fight for it. They had promised to fight, and she wasn't going to give that up, not for a second. She had learned to fight for herself and for her people, and now she would learn to fight for them, too.

Their feelings might be tangled, and it might be a little obvious that there's something in the backs of their minds that neither of them want to talk about, but she doesn't care. She ignores it and focusses on the good, not wanting to spoil the moment, embracing the fact that she isn't afraid to be open, that she isn't afraid to share herself with this man. It's a step towards being completely okay with being open, and that's something she truly wants to work towards.

She doesn't want to lose Charles, either.

Turning her head, Raven leaves a soft kiss against the corner of his mouth before she makes a small noise of irritation. ]

If he comes in here I'll kick his ass.

[just like their memories, their world has left its scars, too. If given the opportunity and the right amount of ire, Hank could go on and on about it, how their world wasn't fair, how it had ruined their lives so many times, taken other mutants from them for terrible reasons - but he wouldn't. He never does. A part of it is still adjusting to not ignoring the world anymore, because he's no longer hiding in the mansion - it took time, to get used to paying attention to everything outside of what little he did see on the news.

He has to wonder if this is what it's always like, though, when they're together. All the important feelings up front with the little things lingering in back, waiting for their moment to take over. And it isn't necessarily bad; they're getting so much better at addressing the less-than-pleasant things, getting better at talking about it instead of running from it. This is just more of that, almost a test - if they can make it through a planet where everything they feel is put on display . . . they could make it through anything.

He hums quietly and turns his head to nose at her temple, keeping his eyes shut. The longer they're like this the slow burn of emotions gets a little more intense, and it makes it just a little bit more difficult to focus on things that isn't touching and kissing.

He still doesn't care]

Not before I do.

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