runningred | (no subject)

Emcee finds himself in Jay's arms again and he figures that it's not a bad place to be. So he returns the embrace, wrapping his arms around Jay's waist and simply leaning into him, closing his eyes.

It takes a moment for him to decide if he wants a bath or not.

"Yes. I suppose I could use one. Thank you."

Jay is a tactile soul. It's just his nature. He nods and kisses the top of Emcee's head before running him a nice hot bath, laid out with a selection of oils and soaps and a big fluffy robe.

"Take as long as you like and call out if you want anything anything. Up to and including company." But unless Emcee asks him to, Jay won't intrude on his soak.

While Jay is in the bathroom, Emcee sheds his coat and sits down on the edge of the bed to pull his boots off. He slips his suspenders off his shoulders and takes off his shirt. And he stays there for a moment, staring down at the faded track marks on his arm.

Jay's voice snaps him out of it. And he gets to feet, and takes the bottle of gin with him to the bathroom.

"Thank you, darling," he says, smiling faintly. "I will."

Jay leave him be, setting himself up at the workbench with some delicate little piece of machinery he has sitting there. By the time Emcee's wrinkling in the tub, Jay had quite a production line of them laid out.

Emcee spends a good amount of time soaking in soothingly hot water that's scented with something a little spicy with a touch of mint. It helps to clear his head while keeping him relaxed, so relaxed that he even drifts off for a short while.

At some point he may be even humming something under his breath. A waltz-like tune. A melancholy lullaby.

He dips his head under the water, then washes his makeup off with a cloth. It leaves sooty-gray and red stains behind.

When he's done, he dries off and wraps himself in the robe. It's too big for him, but all the better for wrapping. He emerges from the bathroom, the bottle of gin looking a lot emptier.

"What are you working on?" he asks, his voice languid and husky, as he makes his way to the bed and sits down.

Jay smiles over his shoulder, glad to see Emcee looking at least a little more relaxed.

"Electro-magnetic pulse grenades. Or at least the guts of them. They short out anything electric when they go off. I've got a large order from am American soldier."

The technical jargon goes straight over his head, but he expected that to happen as soon as he asked the question. But the mention of an American soldier grabs his attention.

"Which American soldier?"

"William J. Blazkowicz." Jay recalls from memory. "Seems like a nice enough guy. And hopefully these will get him past some serious mech suits."

Emcee's expression brightens a fraction.

"Oh, Captain Blazkowicz, I've met him. He is nice. Very nice. And very straight. So straight that I can't even come up with a decent joke about it." He chuckles and shakes his head.

"He's going on some big Nazi-hunting mission. So you see why I'm rather partial to him despite his straightness."

"Yeah, that's what the EMP poppers are for; his mission run with some of the fighters from here." Jay shrugs. "Hopefully they'll do what he needs them to do."

He nods, running a hand through his damp hair. And he's quiet for a moment, before he says, a bit hollowly,

"He told me some things about the war in his world that scared the shit out of me. It's different from what I've heard from other people. It goes on for longer. It seems to be more widespread. And I have no idea if that's what it's going to be like in my world or not."

Jay nods and holds a hand out to him. "Do you want me to find some books about the war from my world? I don't know that I know enough detail to help but I can get you anything you need."

He glances at Jay and takes his offered hand, giving it a light squeeze. But he shakes his head.

"God, no. I don't think I can take it. It was almost better not knowing anything at all. ...Almost. I really don't know anymore."

It's not Jay's way of dealing with things. He spent weeks reading up on five years worth of Gotham Gazette when he first arrived.

"It's your call, darling. You gotta do what you feel is best."

"I really can't tell what I feel is best anymore," he sighs, letting Jay's hand go. "But I think for now I should just get some sleep."

After slipping off the robe, he settles down on his side and curls up, closing his eyes and burying his face against the pillow.

"Are you coming to bed?"

Jay hums an affirmative and packed down his gear. "Do you want something to sleep in or are you happy in skins?"

He changes into a pair of boxers, ignoring the iron hard erectile he's been harboring all night. It's not important in the scheme of things.

He chuckles into the pillow, eyes still closed.

"Unless it's firmly platonic between me and whoever else is in bed with me, I never wear anything."

Jay nods and turns off the workbench light. He comes over to join Emcee in the bed, his chest and muscular legs bare.

He lays with his arm spread and welcoming but not putting pressure on Emcee to touch if he doesn't want to.

Emcee shifts to press his back against Jay's body when he stops moving and slowly opens his eyes. He turns his head over his shoulder.

"Are you all right down there, darling?" he murmurs.

He kisses Emcee's shoulder softly and wraps gentle arms around him. "I'm fine, darling. Don't worry about it. It's just the blood, it'll go."

He turns around a little in Jay's arms.

"Are you sure? I can help. I don't want you to be uncomfortable. ...And I don't want you to keep poking me in the back all night."

There's a wry smile in his voice in the darkness.

"I can roll over if you want me to." Jay teases back, finding skin to kiss. "It might takes a couple of goes to take the edge off." He had rather a lot of Eric's blood. "Don't feel you have to." Not that he'll day no but he doesn't want Emcee to feel obliged.

After a brief moment, he turns around all the way so that he's facing Jay. When he speaks, his voice is low and soft and intimate and its warmth fills up what little space there is between them.

"I know I don't have to, but I rather want to."

He runs his fingertips down Jay's chest.

"Besides, if I don't get you off in at least two tries, I'll know I might be losing my touch," he adds wryly.

"I have now doubt you can get me off." Jay smiles, nuzzling Emcee's neck. "But it might take more than once before I soften."

"And if you want me, I'm yours."