[Palamedes hums and drops himself into one of the chairs, and luckily their table is already compact enough that he hardly needs to lean to press his arm into the side of Viktor's leg. Hi, yes, he is here, considering now this thing of blueberries with somehow even more of a scrutinizing furrowed brow.]
That is the part that worries me, [he says mildly, then,] The terrible variety, not— I can eat some berries for you, come on.
[A nudge with his elbow; like these are the most terrifying food Viktor has fed him in the past few days, even? At least blueberries won't make him cry (probably, one hopes). He wonders if maybe he can just swallow them whole, or if that doesn't count— this, as he does eat another one, and does not swallow it whole just in case. Hmm-]
Should we test it? How's your last paleblood donation cut? I'll try and fix it up.
[ah, excellent height to run his hands through pal's hair, fond as he watches him and his furrowed brow. get yourself a man who will suffer through blueberries he hates to cure your terminal illness, i guess. but yes, the terrible part worries him too.
thank god they didn't decide to make blueberry pie and viktor just gives him a terminal illness instead. that'd be a blast.] If you start feeling odd in any way we stop and examine that. The last thing I want is you gorging yourself on berries that actually boil your blood or something along those lines.
[a touch stern there, none of that, thanks.
as for that suggestion- he does snort at 'donations,' thank you- he offers his hand and gestures to a fading burn on his wrist. he doesn't donate blood for mysterious magic enough but he does get into stupid lab accidents pretty often. one perk of sleeper bullshit, they heal very fast.]
This should do. Not all of us donate as religiously as you, I am afraid. [dry. pal's hilarious bleeding habit.]
[Oh, that's nice, Viktor's hands in his hair make him feel marginally better about the incredibly odd fake medicine he is suggesting they practice. He leans into the touch with an encouraging hum; maybe he can just go to town on these berries and not take the huge risk, and Viktor can keep playing with his hair, and that can be the whole morning... No, obviously not, but wouldn't it be nice if they didn't have things like 'terrible mysteries' and 'terminal illness' to worry about.
Ah, dreams. He pauses after this latest berry, to wait and see if his blood feels warmer than usual.]
I don't feel anything except bad mouthfeel. And let me see that; do you still not have gloves that go all the way up?
[darling. dearest. sir. get some good gear, jesus.]
Admittedly, I'm not sure how it's supposed to work, so... [So. He takes Viktor's wrist with a gentle touch and... thinks about healing? How does it activate? Nothing appears to happen for a moment, but when he smooths his thumb over what remains of the burn mark, lo and behold: it fades that much more rapidly, in a moment. He does it again, just to be sure.
[honestly he could have suggest hair playing relaxation morning and viktor might have gone for that instead, rather than what he assumes will no doubt be an expected but no less disappointing failure. maybe less the disappointment and more the constant reminder their time together may be more limited than either of them would like, but that's a whole other depressing matter.
he runs his fingers through pal's hair one final time before giving a snort, as though pal is somehow ridiculous for worrying about the glove situation.]
My gloves are fine. Focus on magically healing me with the power of unpleasant fruit, please.
[he watches idly, a resigned air that goes confused then surprised when the reddened skin goes pale and smooth again. just like that, just... gone. because of blueberries, apparently. because of pal.
it takes him a moment, like he half expects it to come back, but... no. just gone.] It... seems to be.
[he lifts his hand, touching the area himself, pressing a thumb against it and feeling nothing but the expected pressure. his tone is mixed somewhere between cautious and wary, because now it... it feels more possible. but surely it couldn't be.] It worked. That- it doesn't mean it will work for my lungs, but at least it seems to work for injuries.
[Next time, they can have breakfast with hair playing. Next time, next fruit, it will be very peaceful. For now there's this, Palamedes glancing up at Viktor to give him a look of understanding, for his skepticism, and - well, it worked. Is the thing. It has worked, and for a long moment he simply looks at the freshly healed skin on Viktor's wrist in order to carefully curtail his own rush of emotions.
It won't do to, hm, get ahead of themselves— he would really like to, though, as impossible as it still seems that a handful of berries could be the answer. After his long moment he nods and looks up again, letting go of Viktor's wrist to slip that arm around his waist. Wiggling his hand up under the back of Viktor's goofy t-shirt is completely unrelated to magic berries and completely related to Palamedes' endless need to touch him tenderly. Nothing beats this silly skull shirt and sleep-warm skin, things that are getting him through eating berries.
Hmm. Hmm!]
It's still up to you, [he says, although he is still touching all the berries with his other hand, trying to find a less Squishy one,] I won't be able to tell what's happening until it's done. In case your blood starts to boil. Which is to say that I plan on panicking the whole time, but I won't let that get in the way of good application.
[some of his tension seeps away with pal's hand against his skin, pressed against areas usually covered by his brace but now blessedly free thanks to the early hour. pal's looking something like hopeful and that makes viktor bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from saying something useless, like it's too easy, it's never this easy or don't get your hopes up.
instead he scoots over a little, gives pal better access, the stupid metal band skull grinning maliciously at pal from the faded tshirt. when he's practically sitting in front of pal he snatches the bag of berries for him, fishing through it himself for what feels like a less mushy example.]
Of course we'll try. If we didn't it would drive us both mad, unbearably nosy men that we are. [he pulls out a couple of berries, offering them up to pal with a smile somewhere between strained and genuine. tense from the unease of this, sincere in how watching the face pal makes around each blueberry is endlessly precious.]
This did not feel like much of anything. [he informs, lifting his healed wrist.] A little bit of an itch then nothing. It... is remarkable. Worth making a stockpile of these, I imagine, if it sticks. Maybe you'd like a blueberry tart more. [a pause then he finally gives in to admitting,] I do not wish to see you disappointed if this does not work. Which obviously is hardly a reason not to try.
[Ah, now Palamedes can stare directly into the eyes of Viktor's skull shirt, perfect. Or: he indulges in sliding his palm up Viktor's back, taking advantage of how that drags the hem of the shirt up and how Viktor has scooted conveniently in front of him to lean in and press a kiss against exposed skin, just above his hip. Yet again, he considers forgetting berry magic entirely just for this, just for a little while - but ah, fine, it is his idea.
So, alright. He will take these berries and he will eat them, and he will make the face, and he will pointedly not let the tension in Viktor's smile break his heart at like six in the morning.]
They're already tart, [ha ha, no okay,] I'm— I'll get over it, if it doesn't work.
[Because he will be disappointed, and he's not going to pretend otherwise. Setbacks are part of the process, and et cetera, except that this process is Viktor's life and that sucks all of the joy out of bumbling around different methods, trying to find the right one. Can they, just this time, have an easy answer?
In any case, it's going to take him a small age to eat all these blueberries, both because they're gross and also he can't ever hush, to wit:]
Besides, this is your health we're talking about. You know I'm not going to just leave you high and dry because I might be disappointed. I think that would land me squarely in the realm of 'shittiest partner in history.'
Edited (forgetting words my nemesis) 2022-05-26 04:30 (UTC)
[well, that tart joke? pun? whatever it is gets a light flick to the temple, because viktor refuses to let that sort of behavior go without making a point. his lips are not quirked about it in a clear mixed message.]
It is too early in the morning for terrible jokes, thank you. [of course that flick goes to brushing against pal's temple, trailing down until his palm is cupping pal's jaw. his thumb brushes against pal's cheekbone, a slow trace of the jut of it, and he lets himself simply be against the whirl of emotion that no longer facing these disappointments alone brings.
mixed emotions, really, but for pal's sake he choses to focus on the warm ones. he's learned his lesson about drawing away to protect pal well enough with the tether. pal's disappointment here is far more palatable than the tension and upset pulling away would cause. funnily enough it's a look he'd happily never see on his partner again.]
Hm, perhaps. It would at least put you in the running in that case. [so they're doing this, even if he's half tempted to derail pal entirely and get him to keep kissing him like that. maybe as a distraction from inevitable disappointment, then.
he drops his hand from pal's jaw, placing the bag of blueberries to the side.] Give it a try? I think you've had enough by now to do so. For all we know you only need one bite anyway.
Edited (dumb typo as always) 2022-05-26 04:43 (UTC)
[Maybe he deserved the flick for that one, but he's very funny, thanks for supporting his comedic talent. With a huff he manages the edge of a grin for jokes, despite the heavy air of the rest of this conversation, leaning his head into Viktor's touch. He lets his eyes close, just enjoying the moment of warmth without the rest - just for a second.
But as he is not the shittiest partner in history, he leans back with a nod and glances at the blueberries, uncertain about whether he has eaten enough at the same time he's glad to be rid of them. What if he can only produce enough miraculous healing to do this halfway? Is it going to feel... unfinished, in there? Many questions. He isn't stalling.]
Recklessly charging ahead, alright. [The both of them, good gracious. He stands but doesn't move away from the table, so Viktor can stay right where he is; their mini kitchen is as good a place as any to do this thing, he thinks.
But first he threads his fingers into Viktor's hair, tipping his head back to kiss him properly, unhurried but still cut with the tension of what they're going to do. It's a kiss with some heat to it, but the kind of heat that comes with devotion; solid, steady, not so frenetic as he might have been under different circumstances. Different fruit.
In taking his time woth the kiss he works both his hands under the front of Viktor's goofy t-shirt, one after the other, slipping up to his chest. Does this necessarily require skin-to-skin contact, well, he has no idea! But it makes for a cherry on top of an otherwise stressful thing he's doing, so skin-to-skin it is. He knows the most important details of Viktor's illness, by now, and he knows how lungs are supposed to be, so with his palms against Viktor's chest he thinks about good lungs and wills something to actually work. And waits.]
It's worked for us so far. [viktor answers, and yes, for the most part. aside from being kicked out of the red for supply closet crimes, but he still doesn't really regret that.
and regardless of disappointment he can't say he'll truly regret this either. learning the limits of these powers is worthwhile, and holding the memory of pal's earnest and wholehearted attempts to help him close. it may always be a little overwhelming to him, how much pal cares, how sincerely he does so. it laces how he presses back into the kiss, gratitude and a little greed, wanting to wrap himself up in pal's warmth without even the faint hope of untangling again.
he reaches to wrap his arms around pal's shoulders, resting comfortably against them and caging him close. it could be any other kiss on any other day, the press of his hands familiar and languid, just another exchange of skin against skin that may tip to more. it's so familiar he doesn't notice the first twinge in his chest, not the odd flutter and contraction. discomfort is a baseline of his life and is easy to ignore.
what isn't is how when he pulls back for a breath it feels... clear. no rattling, to sickly pressure of fluid, no risk of disrupting a delicate balance with too large an intake of air. he doesn't return to the kiss like he was planning, instead takes another long breath, deeper than he has in what feels like an age.
it doesn't make him cough. he tries again, this time looking to pal with wide eyes.] It- [another pause, another few deep breaths, and still the air feels clear and clean in his lungs.]
Palamedes. [his tone is an odd mix of alarmed and maybe, perhaps, hopeful. uneasy about that hope, very unsure about sharing it. one more breath. finally he says, a little shaken.] I... I think it worked.
[The waiting is a strange feeling, hands pressed against Viktor's skin with equal parts intimacy and apprehension. He doesn't know if this will work, doesn't know what to do with his expression while Viktor stops to breathe - like he's never done it before, and a spark of little hope lights in Palamedes for it - so many uncertainties, still. Will it even take? He knows the shape of the damage but nothing of the source, beyond 'chemicals,' and who knows if the undercity did such a number on Viktor that he'll regress within the day.
Who knows. So many unknowns. He draws his hands out from under Viktor's shirt to unceremoniously duck his head and press his ear against his chest instead, to listen. So many nights spent folded into each other has given him a knowledge almost second nature for the ever-present rattle in Viktor's lungs, and—
He doesn't hear it. He listens for an extra breath or two to be sure, then straightens swiftly to cup Viktor's face in both his hands. There's the temptation again to tip into giddy elation, but he holds it back, determined to be a steady anchor in this despite his self-admitted panicking a moment ago. Viktor looks the way it feels to miss a step and have the world lurch, a prolonged state of that moment before it rights itself, and so Palamedes tilts in close to him, thumbs grazing his cheekbones, gaze even.
It worked?]
Tell me if you start to feel... bad. We don't know if it will take.
[And he dares not hope. It worked?
After a moment he needs to- to sit, swaying back down into the chair and letting his hands fall with him down to Viktor's waist, his knee. Ah...]
We should, I don't know, run tests? Write something down? Measure something tangible, at least. [And, hm, well, since they are arranged in this interesting position, as he gives Viktor's thigh a little squeeze, he can't resist also offering,] Or we could throw away the day's entire schedule and stay in.
[Ahem. Well, it's an option. Palamedes gazes up at him in a sort of muted wonder, letting just some of the giddiness through, as a treat. He trails a hand up Viktor's chest again, over the t-shirt this time, coming to rest in the middle, marveling.]
I don't honestly know what else to say here. How does it feel?
[viktor can't help but swallow when pal puts his head against viktor's chest, running a hand again through pal's hair like a nervous tic and half expecting pal to returned grim face after hearing the tell tale signs this didn't work.
but no, his breathing remains clear, and the nervous energy between them jolts back and forth, and viktor wonders if his chest has ever actually felt this way. he can almost picture it, a healthy pink instead of whatever rot took root, a thousand unpleasant graphs and images he's seen of contaminated lungs in an effort to better understand the damage. his hand finds pal's over his chest and rests on top of it as he takes another long breath.]
It feels like the first time I took a breath in Piltover. [he finally offers- clean and shocking, a sudden understanding of an entire world he missed. his focus shifts to pal properly, finally giving into the urge to offer a small smile back.
tentative but more than before, cautiously meeting pal's leaking giddiness halfway.] It feels... good. There's no discomfort or pain- I think I might have felt a twinge when you were doing the healing itself but it's hard to say. It- this is remarkable. Even if it's temporary maybe we could study whatever magic is tied to these berries and find some way to replicate it for more accessibility.
[there, genuine excitement in his tone, cracking its way through like a stubborn weed in the crevices of concrete. he cups pal's jaw with both hands and leans down to kiss him, grip a little tight, kiss deep and marveling in how he doesn't need to take care not to push himself too far and fall to coughing.] Palamedes. [he says between them, just his name, filled with all the things he isn't putting to words. that excitement, gratitude, overwhelming affection.]
[Ah. Ah— there aren't yet words Palamedes knows for how it feels when Viktor says 'it feels good'; he doesn't know anything but a rush of surprise and joy and concern all smashed together into one, a thing without name that jolts through him at the thought of Viktor, alright. He wonders if it's really that easy; if perhaps he can just eat a handful of berries every morning and keep Viktor healed long enough to— well, the rest is obvious.
He's nodding, his thoughts aligned with Viktor's suggestion of research. Sure, yes, of course, if they don't study this they're both fools, if they can isolate the thing that gives the berries this power, even better! But Viktor has his face in hand before he can voice his agreement, and Palamedes leans up into the kiss an instant. One hand gripping the front of Viktor's silly t-shirt, the kiss enough to make him dizzy and his name murmured like that enough to make him melt, and so naturally Palamedes is on his feet again a moment later; the energy has to go somewhere.
It still feels too fragile to say 'it worked' aloud, as if that will shatter it completely, and so Palamedes settles for giving Viktor a crooked smile and a short huff of a laugh, like, wow! This is happening! Then he tilts in for another kiss, one that starts firm and then softens into something a little reverent when he moves to kiss along his jaw, down to his neck. Like Viktor is the miracle, actually, and not the fruit, and needs to be properly acknowledged for his, hm, efforts.
The acknowledgement is Palamedes' wandering mouth, of course. He hums along Viktor's collarbone, t-shirt tugged down to give himself access and heedless of stretching it, sorry. Now, consider-]
I know we're due at the lab, ['due' like this isn't their own lab and own schedule, shh,] but let's give this time to settle, just in case.
['Settle,' which here means Viktor can relax while Palamedes slips his other hand past the waistband of his boxers, skin hot against skin but with no urgent rush towards his ultimate destination, as it were. He knows Viktor's body; the shapes and angles, the spots that make him gasp or shudder - not always pleasantly, a learning experience - but it's always, Palamedes thinks, a good time to refresh his mental map, as it were.
Settling. This is settling.]
What do you think? Spare a few hours for testing your lungs' new integrity? With sex, obviously. [yeah it was very unclear] Right here.
[viktor leans up to chase the curl of that crooked smile, a smile of his own lost to the press of their lips, grip tight on pal's shirt. his poor skull shirt is getting stretched but in truth the thing is so old and bordering on threadbare now it doesn't really matter. it's an aesthetic, really. a worthy sacrifice to give pal access, to greedily absorb his warmth.
he can hum along to what palamedes is saying, as distracted as he is, though 'with sex, obviously' breaks that concentration and has him laughing. a bark of a laugh that doesn't make his lungs twinge, and without that warning he finds enough joy to let it simply trail off in a chuckle rather than biting the sound back entirely. ah.]
Give this time to settle while testing my limits? With sex, obviously. I like that kind of truly baffling multitasking. [right on the table they dine on, apparently. it's fine, it's for the sake of discovery. the idea of wasting a moment moving to the bed or couch is ridiculous anyway, not when he has pal slotted so nicely against him.
true to form lungs are, well, tested with marvelous results. holding strong while pal refreshes that map, not a wheeze to be found when viktor returns the favor by pressing pal back into his chair while he himself gets to his knees. it's important to test in several areas, of course, how much he can pant pal's name into his ear, how easy it is to breathe through his nose when his mouth is ah, otherwise occupied. matters such as that.
by the end of things his leg and back ache but his lungs? he chuckles quietly against the nape of pal's neck, lips against a fading mark from his more enthusiastic moments during the grape incident. he kisses it in both lingering fondness and apology, forcing himself off his shaking knees and swaying, catching pal's face to kiss him again.]
I think it worked. [he finally, finally allows himself to say, a thickness in his throat.]
[Palamedes laughs, like, listen— listen, to expect him to follow precise logic when Viktor is healed and that's really doing it for him is just silly. Don't judge his process.]
You're in a better mood already, [he quips back, because Viktor is obviously feeling better if he can sass Palamedes' word choice. Even that much is enough to make him soar; Viktor's mood swinging back up after the uncertain way he handled the berries' healing, like he might rattle apart if he smiled more than a milimeter— mm.
Palamedes likes this better. Likes, also, refreshing his familiarity with Viktor's body - not that he, ah, forgot or anything, but it's the principle of it - likes very much how his name sounds breathless without any wheezing, the way Viktor tenses and releases under his touch without pain— He's already reeling in the best possible way even before Viktor pushes him back into the chair, and then all he can think about is curling his fingers tight into his hair and the frankly embarrassing sounds he makes here in the merciful privacy of the bunker. Viktor and heat and pressure and ah—
Hmm, yes, a fine integrity test indeed. He would like very much to tug Viktor into his lap and see where they wind up, but all things considered that would be tipped over onto the floor - this rickety little chair isn't enough to hold up two adults, even as skinny as they are. But he's content to tip into the kiss, hands patting blindly at Viktor until he finds his waist to hold him steady, not in a rush to break this kiss anytime soon.]
I hope so, [he murmurs, bowing his head to lean against Viktor's chest again and listen, yes, but also just to savor having him close like this before the itch to get into a lab and do, ah, real tests takes over. They have prototypes to play with, and perhaps they should pick up some more blueberries on the way, and...
Okay. Mmph. Do they have to go and be real people who go out. Alright.]
Good; keep me posted. I'm bringing the rest of the berries with us. We should get dressed.
again maybe a touch of horny still mentioned, avert innocent eyes
[viktor's still smiling as he curls his fingers in pal's hair, with pal's head at his chest and his lungs blessed clear. it's really starting to settle in the crevices of his doubt, sharp, careful edges worn softer by the taste of pal still on his tongue, the welcome aches.
yeah, it probably wouldn't do to test the chair's integrity like he thinks he gladly could and would. the couch would be a much better option for the several options that still flit across his mind but they are matters for the evening, maybe. after they've done some tests for this, when it feels all the more real with time and the settling pal mentioned. ]
I don't suppose your psychometry could be used on these berries to try and chase their magical influences. [he's positive it doesn't work that way but hey? worth a shot to ask. blood magic makes things weird anyway. pal gets a kiss on his temple as viktor goes to get changed, further marveling at how easy his chest brace is to deal with when he doesn't have to keep a careful monitor of his lungs.
all a very lovely morning, stolen kisses and gentle warmth until he's stepping out of the bunker and the world clicks out of place.
he's lying in bed, palamedes' warmth fading from where he's gotten up first with a little wrangling to get across. the skull shirt is back on, the braces off, and viktor blinks up at the top bunk, groggy and baffled.
a breath in rattles, and he's quick to sit up, coughing against his inner elbow as wetly as ever.]
[The uncertainty remains; there's no telling how long this healing lasts, if it's going to need a refresh by the end of the day or never, but pressed close to Viktor's chest in the afterglow like this, Palamedes allows himself to indulge in a little optimism. The day at the lab stretches out before them like a brand new thing, a fresh coat of paint that makes it seem brighter, better. Not that their time together isn't valuable and bright already, but - this is new.
He revels somewhat in the easy happiness radiating off Viktor and mixing with his own. It's a cozy morning, unhurriedly dressing and smiling at Viktor every time their eyes meet, dazzled by the overwhelming rush of possibility. It's good. It's remarkable.
It's muttering something quippy and irreverent at Viktor as he follows him out the door, only to follow it up with,]
Viktor, have any of the locals told you about blueberries?
[—And he's sitting at the kitchen table again in his pajamas, fingering the edge of the blueberry container and considering picking one out of the pile, and what the fuck?
He twists around in the chair to stare at the bed behind him at the precise moment Viktor coughs, wet and rattling and Palamedes' heart plummets. For a moment he wonders if he'd just been absorbed in a particularly detailed daydream, but that's surely impossible. And even if it were true, they've already had one dream linked with magic; he doesn't stop to ask, simply pushes up from the chair and crosses over to the bed, where he drops to his knees and presses up against Viktor's chest.
It's unnecessary. Like always, he can hear the sickness in the cough, but- but—]
What happened? [his voice is tight, strained,] How are we here again?
[blood gathers over his arm as he coughs, red flecks that turn pale and milky in the light of the lunar orb. the mixed taste of iron and milk sit on the back of his tongue as he lets his arm drop, hand going instinctively to pal's hair.
he hadn't coughed this morning, but this morning he was careful when he first rose. it rattles against pal's ear and viktor closes his eyes, feeling so damnably foolish and naive-
no, focus. the hand in pal's hair is grounding, as is the warmth of him.] Was it a dream?
[after a moment he lifts his arm to show the fading burn he thought healed, frowning to glance down at ah, well there may have been a mark or two sucked into pal's collar during heated table time. gone. he swallows.] That wasn't like the dream we had before. Did time somehow revert? Was it a very tactile hallucination?
[Palamedes slides his arms around Viktor's middle and holds tight, lifting his head from his chest to glance at the burn still stark on Viktor's wrist, the, ah, not at all stretched collar of his skull shirt, all of these signs that the morning they'd just had didn't happen.
But it did, it must have, Viktor remembers it as well as he does, so then what—]
I don't know. Was it the fruit? [He doubts it; surely the fruit wouldn't wait so patiently for them to finish up in the kitchen, as it were, before another side effect kicked in. And surely a fruit wouldn't have two magical impacts, that's absurd even for the Trench.] Could it be the door?
[Maybe someone cursed their bunker. Palamedes lets go of Viktor with one hand to root around in the sheets for his omni, which of course he falls asleep with and loses in bed regularly, of course, and wakes it to demand the time. He shakes his head.]
Hallucinations would still spend time. Look. [He holds it up; it's definitely only been minutes since he climbed out of bed, allegedly.
That particular mystery, however, means nothing to him right now, with Viktor having just coughed up blood first thing in the morning (second go).]
Let's heal you again before we worry about that. Are you alright to stand? I can bring them here.
It seems unlikely to have two effects, unless the entire effect is to grant a wish then take it away. [his tone remains level, refusing to let bitterness break through just yet. now that they've had that moment he doesn't want to just let it go on an agitated whim, sinking his teeth stubbornly into and refusing to budge.
he shifts so pal can get his omni, eyes narrowed on the door for any signs of... anything, really. a glance at the clock and he isn't sure if this is a relief or not- well, it's information. not a hallucination, either an odd shared dream or time resetting. his hand runs through pal's hair again, so glad for him here, solid and present and clever. easy to leech strength and resolve off of, reason and logic.]
I can get up- maybe we should check going through the door first. If that triggers it again at least we'll know.
[he is moving to stand though, holding out a hand in silent request for pal's assistance in steadying. his chest burns the way it always does after a coughing fit, which he is practiced in ignoring and will do so out of sheer determination if not keeping pal's concerns at bay.]
After I was told by a local about the healing ability? That seems too on the nose. [What would that make the fruit peddler, some kind of despair sleeper agent? Reading minds to pull out desires and tricking people into buying blueberries? Ridiculous. He makes a rough noise, almost a laugh, but too strained to even be bitter.] No; I don't believe it.
[But the door, yes; checking the door. He shifts back and then up to give Viktor room, taking his hand with his other hovering around his lower back, just in case. His concerns are already here, they are well ashore, it's too late to stop him from worrying now, but they are going to check the door. A goal to focus on, instead of miserably slumping back to bed and wallowing for this iteration of the morning.
Once Viktor is steady on his feet Palamedes squeezes him close and kisses his temple, pausing a moment with his nose buried in his hair, just - well, just for both their sakes, honestly. Then it's time for the door, only letting go of Viktor entirely to head up the stairs and over the threshold, which...
Does nothing. He takes a few steps out into the grass, getting his old man slippers all wet and sloppy with the bleak morning's dew, just to see; still nothing. He heads back down the stairs, shaking his head.]
We're still here. It could be the time itself; I don't remember precisely what time it was we left, but...
[But as his gaze flicks over to the berries waiting on the table, the rest of that thought is clear, if unspoken; but why wait around for a nebulous number of hours with shitty lungs?
Well, he's going to go angrily shove a handful of gross blueberries in his face, out of spite. It's terrible, texture-wise, but he holds an arm out for Viktor to come here, please, while they figure out the next steps.]
[yeah, viktor would very much like to believe there isn't a despair conspiracy going on here. there's already weird cults and monsters and constant mental invasions, that one might push it all over the edge, just a little. just a lot.
if not he's going to go punch a blueberry seller and not even be under the influence of fight raspberries, thanks.
he takes a moment just to lean against pal, still holding his hand tightly, a little squeeze like a mutual bid for comfort before they're at the door. he watches pal go through before following after, looking around and waiting a beat more before making his way up the stairs, one hand bracing himself against the wall.
he only goes halfway, he wasn't even this far last time. okay, not the door itself, unless it's on a timed trigger. pal says as much and viktor nods, following him back in and closing the door behind him. quiet for a moment more as he considers it all, trying to make sure there isn't something they missed, something obvious.
pal looks at the blueberries and viktor snorts softly, the grim look shifting to a faint fondness, shoulders easing a touch as he moves into pal's space.] We may as well. I for one would prefer to face whatever this new nonsense is with clear lungs, if possible.
[he's not going to damn them by saying maybe it was just a weird, prophetic dream of some sort. it's a bizarre scenario but certainly a best case one as well, and he sighs as he rests his forehead on pal's shoulder, a vague mirror of their first go at the morning though this time far more loaded than a groggy irritation with the world.]
Maybe this is all to annoy you with blueberries again.
[His blueberry-eating energy could be described as 'furious' and 'erratic' in this moment, trying to chew and swallow them as he continues to pop more into his mouth, now letting the bitterness show through a bit. He doesn't like this trick? He hasn't liked many of them so far, besides these goddamn fruits, and he'll be damned if the one that can help Viktor is going to be taken from them by some mysterious cosmic joke about the timing.
So: angrily eating fruits, shaking his head and tugging Viktor in close to his side as he chews irritably. Ugh!! At the very least, he has enough non-irritable focus left to run his fingers into Viktor's hair when his head hits his shoulder, a silent reassurance that, look, they are going to deal with this. They're handling it, again, and at least this time they know that the blueberries do work.
Silver linings. He's still irritated, the berries are still foul, but silver linings.]
That's horrible. Time didn't reset when your spicy mush dinner made me cry.
[Ha ha. Alright, though, to business; as before he turns to nudge Viktor to look up, catching him in a kiss. It's not Viktor's fault that they have to do this again, and he knows when he gets in a mood he tends to simmer in it; a kiss, so they can both relax, and not turn healing Viktor into a perfunctory sidebar.]
Reckless charge, take two.
[jokes..... he slides his hand up under the skull shirt again, for Healing: A Sequel.]
Mush. You are uncultured. [he mutters into pal's shoulder, grasping the humor of the situation and just taking a moment before he's pulling back to watch this savage devouring. his hand goes up to pal's jaw, a jaw still moving to massacre those blueberries most likely, cupping it gently regardless.
ah, feelings again at having someone by his side in these moments that were always so private before. when pal prompts the kiss he meets it, the blueberry taste still strong in a way he choses to ignore this time for simply the press of skin.
it breaks with a soft sigh, viktor nodding and closing his eyes this time to concentrate on the feelings.] Second time's the charm.
[this time the twinge and faint shifts are noticeable, his brow furrowing slightly with them until that cool relief filled his lungs and he lets out a long breath. a deep breath in, then out, still shocking the second time though not with quite the same suckerpunch.
he glances up to pal again with a firmer nod.] It worked again. I suppose we wait and see if it's a matter of timing. This time we won't leave the bunker and see if the time passes without incident?
[God, but it's such a different air that sits heavy over them this time. No longer that hesitant excitement, not daring to trust that it will work— no, just resenting blueberries and Trench tricks alike. The relief that comes when Viktor reports that it's worked again is still there, Palamedes can stop being annoyed about berries for that much, but - mm.
It's terrible just watching Viktor go through the stress of this thing more than once; he can only imagine experiencing it live is worse.]
Alright. Let's— sit.
[Over on the couch, where he leads them, arm still wrapped around Viktor for support. There's also the matter of, hm, the integrity test... maybe if he wasn't moments away from throwing the rest of the blueberries against the wall. Still, once they've settled on the couch, he nudges Viktor's knee, come put these skinny legs in his lap, they're not going to spend this nebulous length of time sitting normally. Gosh.]
This time, let's save the test for later. And I just don't like to eat mush. Not a crime.
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deercountry2022-05-24 11:36 pm
no subject
That is the part that worries me, [he says mildly, then,] The terrible variety, not— I can eat some berries for you, come on.
[A nudge with his elbow; like these are the most terrifying food Viktor has fed him in the past few days, even? At least blueberries won't make him cry (probably, one hopes). He wonders if maybe he can just swallow them whole, or if that doesn't count— this, as he does eat another one, and does not swallow it whole just in case. Hmm-]
Should we test it? How's your last paleblood donation cut? I'll try and fix it up.
[that's what they're calling it now. donations.]
no subject
thank god they didn't decide to make blueberry pie and viktor just gives him a terminal illness instead. that'd be a blast.] If you start feeling odd in any way we stop and examine that. The last thing I want is you gorging yourself on berries that actually boil your blood or something along those lines.
[a touch stern there, none of that, thanks.
as for that suggestion- he does snort at 'donations,' thank you- he offers his hand and gestures to a fading burn on his wrist. he doesn't donate blood for mysterious magic enough but he does get into stupid lab accidents pretty often. one perk of sleeper bullshit, they heal very fast.]
This should do. Not all of us donate as religiously as you, I am afraid. [dry. pal's hilarious bleeding habit.]
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Ah, dreams. He pauses after this latest berry, to wait and see if his blood feels warmer than usual.]
I don't feel anything except bad mouthfeel. And let me see that; do you still not have gloves that go all the way up?
[darling. dearest. sir. get some good gear, jesus.]
Admittedly, I'm not sure how it's supposed to work, so... [So. He takes Viktor's wrist with a gentle touch and... thinks about healing? How does it activate? Nothing appears to happen for a moment, but when he smooths his thumb over what remains of the burn mark, lo and behold: it fades that much more rapidly, in a moment. He does it again, just to be sure.
Well!!] That's— working?
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he runs his fingers through pal's hair one final time before giving a snort, as though pal is somehow ridiculous for worrying about the glove situation.]
My gloves are fine. Focus on magically healing me with the power of unpleasant fruit, please.
[he watches idly, a resigned air that goes confused then surprised when the reddened skin goes pale and smooth again. just like that, just... gone. because of blueberries, apparently. because of pal.
it takes him a moment, like he half expects it to come back, but... no. just gone.] It... seems to be.
[he lifts his hand, touching the area himself, pressing a thumb against it and feeling nothing but the expected pressure. his tone is mixed somewhere between cautious and wary, because now it... it feels more possible. but surely it couldn't be.] It worked. That- it doesn't mean it will work for my lungs, but at least it seems to work for injuries.
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It won't do to, hm, get ahead of themselves— he would really like to, though, as impossible as it still seems that a handful of berries could be the answer. After his long moment he nods and looks up again, letting go of Viktor's wrist to slip that arm around his waist. Wiggling his hand up under the back of Viktor's goofy t-shirt is completely unrelated to magic berries and completely related to Palamedes' endless need to touch him tenderly. Nothing beats this silly skull shirt and sleep-warm skin, things that are getting him through eating berries.
Hmm. Hmm!]
It's still up to you, [he says, although he is still touching all the berries with his other hand, trying to find a less Squishy one,] I won't be able to tell what's happening until it's done. In case your blood starts to boil. Which is to say that I plan on panicking the whole time, but I won't let that get in the way of good application.
[application of berry magic. ridiculous.]
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instead he scoots over a little, gives pal better access, the stupid metal band skull grinning maliciously at pal from the faded tshirt. when he's practically sitting in front of pal he snatches the bag of berries for him, fishing through it himself for what feels like a less mushy example.]
Of course we'll try. If we didn't it would drive us both mad, unbearably nosy men that we are. [he pulls out a couple of berries, offering them up to pal with a smile somewhere between strained and genuine. tense from the unease of this, sincere in how watching the face pal makes around each blueberry is endlessly precious.]
This did not feel like much of anything. [he informs, lifting his healed wrist.] A little bit of an itch then nothing. It... is remarkable. Worth making a stockpile of these, I imagine, if it sticks. Maybe you'd like a blueberry tart more. [a pause then he finally gives in to admitting,] I do not wish to see you disappointed if this does not work. Which obviously is hardly a reason not to try.
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So, alright. He will take these berries and he will eat them, and he will make the face, and he will pointedly not let the tension in Viktor's smile break his heart at like six in the morning.]
They're already tart, [ha ha, no okay,] I'm— I'll get over it, if it doesn't work.
[Because he will be disappointed, and he's not going to pretend otherwise. Setbacks are part of the process, and et cetera, except that this process is Viktor's life and that sucks all of the joy out of bumbling around different methods, trying to find the right one. Can they, just this time, have an easy answer?
In any case, it's going to take him a small age to eat all these blueberries, both because they're gross and also he can't ever hush, to wit:]
Besides, this is your health we're talking about. You know I'm not going to just leave you high and dry because I might be disappointed. I think that would land me squarely in the realm of 'shittiest partner in history.'
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It is too early in the morning for terrible jokes, thank you. [of course that flick goes to brushing against pal's temple, trailing down until his palm is cupping pal's jaw. his thumb brushes against pal's cheekbone, a slow trace of the jut of it, and he lets himself simply be against the whirl of emotion that no longer facing these disappointments alone brings.
mixed emotions, really, but for pal's sake he choses to focus on the warm ones. he's learned his lesson about drawing away to protect pal well enough with the tether. pal's disappointment here is far more palatable than the tension and upset pulling away would cause. funnily enough it's a look he'd happily never see on his partner again.]
Hm, perhaps. It would at least put you in the running in that case. [so they're doing this, even if he's half tempted to derail pal entirely and get him to keep kissing him like that. maybe as a distraction from inevitable disappointment, then.
he drops his hand from pal's jaw, placing the bag of blueberries to the side.] Give it a try? I think you've had enough by now to do so. For all we know you only need one bite anyway.
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But as he is not the shittiest partner in history, he leans back with a nod and glances at the blueberries, uncertain about whether he has eaten enough at the same time he's glad to be rid of them. What if he can only produce enough miraculous healing to do this halfway? Is it going to feel... unfinished, in there? Many questions. He isn't stalling.]
Recklessly charging ahead, alright. [The both of them, good gracious. He stands but doesn't move away from the table, so Viktor can stay right where he is; their mini kitchen is as good a place as any to do this thing, he thinks.
But first he threads his fingers into Viktor's hair, tipping his head back to kiss him properly, unhurried but still cut with the tension of what they're going to do. It's a kiss with some heat to it, but the kind of heat that comes with devotion; solid, steady, not so frenetic as he might have been under different circumstances. Different fruit.
In taking his time woth the kiss he works both his hands under the front of Viktor's goofy t-shirt, one after the other, slipping up to his chest. Does this necessarily require skin-to-skin contact, well, he has no idea! But it makes for a cherry on top of an otherwise stressful thing he's doing, so skin-to-skin it is. He knows the most important details of Viktor's illness, by now, and he knows how lungs are supposed to be, so with his palms against Viktor's chest he thinks about good lungs and wills something to actually work. And waits.]
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and regardless of disappointment he can't say he'll truly regret this either. learning the limits of these powers is worthwhile, and holding the memory of pal's earnest and wholehearted attempts to help him close. it may always be a little overwhelming to him, how much pal cares, how sincerely he does so. it laces how he presses back into the kiss, gratitude and a little greed, wanting to wrap himself up in pal's warmth without even the faint hope of untangling again.
he reaches to wrap his arms around pal's shoulders, resting comfortably against them and caging him close. it could be any other kiss on any other day, the press of his hands familiar and languid, just another exchange of skin against skin that may tip to more. it's so familiar he doesn't notice the first twinge in his chest, not the odd flutter and contraction. discomfort is a baseline of his life and is easy to ignore.
what isn't is how when he pulls back for a breath it feels... clear. no rattling, to sickly pressure of fluid, no risk of disrupting a delicate balance with too large an intake of air. he doesn't return to the kiss like he was planning, instead takes another long breath, deeper than he has in what feels like an age.
it doesn't make him cough. he tries again, this time looking to pal with wide eyes.] It- [another pause, another few deep breaths, and still the air feels clear and clean in his lungs.]
Palamedes. [his tone is an odd mix of alarmed and maybe, perhaps, hopeful. uneasy about that hope, very unsure about sharing it. one more breath. finally he says, a little shaken.] I... I think it worked.
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Who knows. So many unknowns. He draws his hands out from under Viktor's shirt to unceremoniously duck his head and press his ear against his chest instead, to listen. So many nights spent folded into each other has given him a knowledge almost second nature for the ever-present rattle in Viktor's lungs, and—
He doesn't hear it. He listens for an extra breath or two to be sure, then straightens swiftly to cup Viktor's face in both his hands. There's the temptation again to tip into giddy elation, but he holds it back, determined to be a steady anchor in this despite his self-admitted panicking a moment ago. Viktor looks the way it feels to miss a step and have the world lurch, a prolonged state of that moment before it rights itself, and so Palamedes tilts in close to him, thumbs grazing his cheekbones, gaze even.
It worked?]
Tell me if you start to feel... bad. We don't know if it will take.
[And he dares not hope. It worked?
After a moment he needs to- to sit, swaying back down into the chair and letting his hands fall with him down to Viktor's waist, his knee. Ah...]
We should, I don't know, run tests? Write something down? Measure something tangible, at least. [And, hm, well, since they are arranged in this interesting position, as he gives Viktor's thigh a little squeeze, he can't resist also offering,] Or we could throw away the day's entire schedule and stay in.
[Ahem. Well, it's an option. Palamedes gazes up at him in a sort of muted wonder, letting just some of the giddiness through, as a treat. He trails a hand up Viktor's chest again, over the t-shirt this time, coming to rest in the middle, marveling.]
I don't honestly know what else to say here. How does it feel?
no subject
but no, his breathing remains clear, and the nervous energy between them jolts back and forth, and viktor wonders if his chest has ever actually felt this way. he can almost picture it, a healthy pink instead of whatever rot took root, a thousand unpleasant graphs and images he's seen of contaminated lungs in an effort to better understand the damage. his hand finds pal's over his chest and rests on top of it as he takes another long breath.]
It feels like the first time I took a breath in Piltover. [he finally offers- clean and shocking, a sudden understanding of an entire world he missed. his focus shifts to pal properly, finally giving into the urge to offer a small smile back.
tentative but more than before, cautiously meeting pal's leaking giddiness halfway.] It feels... good. There's no discomfort or pain- I think I might have felt a twinge when you were doing the healing itself but it's hard to say. It- this is remarkable. Even if it's temporary maybe we could study whatever magic is tied to these berries and find some way to replicate it for more accessibility.
[there, genuine excitement in his tone, cracking its way through like a stubborn weed in the crevices of concrete. he cups pal's jaw with both hands and leans down to kiss him, grip a little tight, kiss deep and marveling in how he doesn't need to take care not to push himself too far and fall to coughing.] Palamedes. [he says between them, just his name, filled with all the things he isn't putting to words. that excitement, gratitude, overwhelming affection.]
do i cw for horny on main, i suppose so
He's nodding, his thoughts aligned with Viktor's suggestion of research. Sure, yes, of course, if they don't study this they're both fools, if they can isolate the thing that gives the berries this power, even better! But Viktor has his face in hand before he can voice his agreement, and Palamedes leans up into the kiss an instant. One hand gripping the front of Viktor's silly t-shirt, the kiss enough to make him dizzy and his name murmured like that enough to make him melt, and so naturally Palamedes is on his feet again a moment later; the energy has to go somewhere.
It still feels too fragile to say 'it worked' aloud, as if that will shatter it completely, and so Palamedes settles for giving Viktor a crooked smile and a short huff of a laugh, like, wow! This is happening! Then he tilts in for another kiss, one that starts firm and then softens into something a little reverent when he moves to kiss along his jaw, down to his neck. Like Viktor is the miracle, actually, and not the fruit, and needs to be properly acknowledged for his, hm, efforts.
The acknowledgement is Palamedes' wandering mouth, of course. He hums along Viktor's collarbone, t-shirt tugged down to give himself access and heedless of stretching it, sorry. Now, consider-]
I know we're due at the lab, ['due' like this isn't their own lab and own schedule, shh,] but let's give this time to settle, just in case.
['Settle,' which here means Viktor can relax while Palamedes slips his other hand past the waistband of his boxers, skin hot against skin but with no urgent rush towards his ultimate destination, as it were. He knows Viktor's body; the shapes and angles, the spots that make him gasp or shudder - not always pleasantly, a learning experience - but it's always, Palamedes thinks, a good time to refresh his mental map, as it were.
Settling. This is settling.]
What do you think? Spare a few hours for testing your lungs' new integrity? With sex, obviously. [yeah it was very unclear] Right here.
same cw, what can you do
he can hum along to what palamedes is saying, as distracted as he is, though 'with sex, obviously' breaks that concentration and has him laughing. a bark of a laugh that doesn't make his lungs twinge, and without that warning he finds enough joy to let it simply trail off in a chuckle rather than biting the sound back entirely. ah.]
Give this time to settle while testing my limits? With sex, obviously. I like that kind of truly baffling multitasking. [right on the table they dine on, apparently. it's fine, it's for the sake of discovery. the idea of wasting a moment moving to the bed or couch is ridiculous anyway, not when he has pal slotted so nicely against him.
true to form lungs are, well, tested with marvelous results. holding strong while pal refreshes that map, not a wheeze to be found when viktor returns the favor by pressing pal back into his chair while he himself gets to his knees. it's important to test in several areas, of course, how much he can pant pal's name into his ear, how easy it is to breathe through his nose when his mouth is ah, otherwise occupied. matters such as that.
by the end of things his leg and back ache but his lungs? he chuckles quietly against the nape of pal's neck, lips against a fading mark from his more enthusiastic moments during the grape incident. he kisses it in both lingering fondness and apology, forcing himself off his shaking knees and swaying, catching pal's face to kiss him again.]
I think it worked. [he finally, finally allows himself to say, a thickness in his throat.]
cw still a little horny, implied
You're in a better mood already, [he quips back, because Viktor is obviously feeling better if he can sass Palamedes' word choice. Even that much is enough to make him soar; Viktor's mood swinging back up after the uncertain way he handled the berries' healing, like he might rattle apart if he smiled more than a milimeter— mm.
Palamedes likes this better. Likes, also, refreshing his familiarity with Viktor's body - not that he, ah, forgot or anything, but it's the principle of it - likes very much how his name sounds breathless without any wheezing, the way Viktor tenses and releases under his touch without pain— He's already reeling in the best possible way even before Viktor pushes him back into the chair, and then all he can think about is curling his fingers tight into his hair and the frankly embarrassing sounds he makes here in the merciful privacy of the bunker. Viktor and heat and pressure and ah—
Hmm, yes, a fine integrity test indeed. He would like very much to tug Viktor into his lap and see where they wind up, but all things considered that would be tipped over onto the floor - this rickety little chair isn't enough to hold up two adults, even as skinny as they are. But he's content to tip into the kiss, hands patting blindly at Viktor until he finds his waist to hold him steady, not in a rush to break this kiss anytime soon.]
I hope so, [he murmurs, bowing his head to lean against Viktor's chest again and listen, yes, but also just to savor having him close like this before the itch to get into a lab and do, ah, real tests takes over. They have prototypes to play with, and perhaps they should pick up some more blueberries on the way, and...
Okay. Mmph. Do they have to go and be real people who go out. Alright.]
Good; keep me posted. I'm bringing the rest of the berries with us. We should get dressed.
again maybe a touch of horny still mentioned, avert innocent eyes
yeah, it probably wouldn't do to test the chair's integrity like he thinks he gladly could and would. the couch would be a much better option for the several options that still flit across his mind but they are matters for the evening, maybe. after they've done some tests for this, when it feels all the more real with time and the settling pal mentioned. ]
I don't suppose your psychometry could be used on these berries to try and chase their magical influences. [he's positive it doesn't work that way but hey? worth a shot to ask. blood magic makes things weird anyway. pal gets a kiss on his temple as viktor goes to get changed, further marveling at how easy his chest brace is to deal with when he doesn't have to keep a careful monitor of his lungs.
all a very lovely morning, stolen kisses and gentle warmth until he's stepping out of the bunker and the world clicks out of place.
he's lying in bed, palamedes' warmth fading from where he's gotten up first with a little wrangling to get across. the skull shirt is back on, the braces off, and viktor blinks up at the top bunk, groggy and baffled.
a breath in rattles, and he's quick to sit up, coughing against his inner elbow as wetly as ever.]
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He revels somewhat in the easy happiness radiating off Viktor and mixing with his own. It's a cozy morning, unhurriedly dressing and smiling at Viktor every time their eyes meet, dazzled by the overwhelming rush of possibility. It's good. It's remarkable.
It's muttering something quippy and irreverent at Viktor as he follows him out the door, only to follow it up with,]
Viktor, have any of the locals told you about blueberries?
[—And he's sitting at the kitchen table again in his pajamas, fingering the edge of the blueberry container and considering picking one out of the pile, and what the fuck?
He twists around in the chair to stare at the bed behind him at the precise moment Viktor coughs, wet and rattling and Palamedes' heart plummets. For a moment he wonders if he'd just been absorbed in a particularly detailed daydream, but that's surely impossible. And even if it were true, they've already had one dream linked with magic; he doesn't stop to ask, simply pushes up from the chair and crosses over to the bed, where he drops to his knees and presses up against Viktor's chest.
It's unnecessary. Like always, he can hear the sickness in the cough, but- but—]
What happened? [his voice is tight, strained,] How are we here again?
no subject
he hadn't coughed this morning, but this morning he was careful when he first rose. it rattles against pal's ear and viktor closes his eyes, feeling so damnably foolish and naive-
no, focus. the hand in pal's hair is grounding, as is the warmth of him.] Was it a dream?
[after a moment he lifts his arm to show the fading burn he thought healed, frowning to glance down at ah, well there may have been a mark or two sucked into pal's collar during heated table time. gone. he swallows.] That wasn't like the dream we had before. Did time somehow revert? Was it a very tactile hallucination?
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But it did, it must have, Viktor remembers it as well as he does, so then what—]
I don't know. Was it the fruit? [He doubts it; surely the fruit wouldn't wait so patiently for them to finish up in the kitchen, as it were, before another side effect kicked in. And surely a fruit wouldn't have two magical impacts, that's absurd even for the Trench.] Could it be the door?
[Maybe someone cursed their bunker. Palamedes lets go of Viktor with one hand to root around in the sheets for his omni, which of course he falls asleep with and loses in bed regularly, of course, and wakes it to demand the time. He shakes his head.]
Hallucinations would still spend time. Look. [He holds it up; it's definitely only been minutes since he climbed out of bed, allegedly.
That particular mystery, however, means nothing to him right now, with Viktor having just coughed up blood first thing in the morning (second go).]
Let's heal you again before we worry about that. Are you alright to stand? I can bring them here.
no subject
he shifts so pal can get his omni, eyes narrowed on the door for any signs of... anything, really. a glance at the clock and he isn't sure if this is a relief or not- well, it's information. not a hallucination, either an odd shared dream or time resetting. his hand runs through pal's hair again, so glad for him here, solid and present and clever. easy to leech strength and resolve off of, reason and logic.]
I can get up- maybe we should check going through the door first. If that triggers it again at least we'll know.
[he is moving to stand though, holding out a hand in silent request for pal's assistance in steadying. his chest burns the way it always does after a coughing fit, which he is practiced in ignoring and will do so out of sheer determination if not keeping pal's concerns at bay.]
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[But the door, yes; checking the door. He shifts back and then up to give Viktor room, taking his hand with his other hovering around his lower back, just in case. His concerns are already here, they are well ashore, it's too late to stop him from worrying now, but they are going to check the door. A goal to focus on, instead of miserably slumping back to bed and wallowing for this iteration of the morning.
Once Viktor is steady on his feet Palamedes squeezes him close and kisses his temple, pausing a moment with his nose buried in his hair, just - well, just for both their sakes, honestly. Then it's time for the door, only letting go of Viktor entirely to head up the stairs and over the threshold, which...
Does nothing. He takes a few steps out into the grass, getting his old man slippers all wet and sloppy with the bleak morning's dew, just to see; still nothing. He heads back down the stairs, shaking his head.]
We're still here. It could be the time itself; I don't remember precisely what time it was we left, but...
[But as his gaze flicks over to the berries waiting on the table, the rest of that thought is clear, if unspoken; but why wait around for a nebulous number of hours with shitty lungs?
Well, he's going to go angrily shove a handful of gross blueberries in his face, out of spite. It's terrible, texture-wise, but he holds an arm out for Viktor to come here, please, while they figure out the next steps.]
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if not he's going to go punch a blueberry seller and not even be under the influence of fight raspberries, thanks.
he takes a moment just to lean against pal, still holding his hand tightly, a little squeeze like a mutual bid for comfort before they're at the door. he watches pal go through before following after, looking around and waiting a beat more before making his way up the stairs, one hand bracing himself against the wall.
he only goes halfway, he wasn't even this far last time. okay, not the door itself, unless it's on a timed trigger. pal says as much and viktor nods, following him back in and closing the door behind him. quiet for a moment more as he considers it all, trying to make sure there isn't something they missed, something obvious.
pal looks at the blueberries and viktor snorts softly, the grim look shifting to a faint fondness, shoulders easing a touch as he moves into pal's space.] We may as well. I for one would prefer to face whatever this new nonsense is with clear lungs, if possible.
[he's not going to damn them by saying maybe it was just a weird, prophetic dream of some sort. it's a bizarre scenario but certainly a best case one as well, and he sighs as he rests his forehead on pal's shoulder, a vague mirror of their first go at the morning though this time far more loaded than a groggy irritation with the world.]
Maybe this is all to annoy you with blueberries again.
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So: angrily eating fruits, shaking his head and tugging Viktor in close to his side as he chews irritably. Ugh!! At the very least, he has enough non-irritable focus left to run his fingers into Viktor's hair when his head hits his shoulder, a silent reassurance that, look, they are going to deal with this. They're handling it, again, and at least this time they know that the blueberries do work.
Silver linings. He's still irritated, the berries are still foul, but silver linings.]
That's horrible. Time didn't reset when your spicy mush dinner made me cry.
[Ha ha. Alright, though, to business; as before he turns to nudge Viktor to look up, catching him in a kiss. It's not Viktor's fault that they have to do this again, and he knows when he gets in a mood he tends to simmer in it; a kiss, so they can both relax, and not turn healing Viktor into a perfunctory sidebar.]
Reckless charge, take two.
[jokes..... he slides his hand up under the skull shirt again, for Healing: A Sequel.]
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ah, feelings again at having someone by his side in these moments that were always so private before. when pal prompts the kiss he meets it, the blueberry taste still strong in a way he choses to ignore this time for simply the press of skin.
it breaks with a soft sigh, viktor nodding and closing his eyes this time to concentrate on the feelings.] Second time's the charm.
[this time the twinge and faint shifts are noticeable, his brow furrowing slightly with them until that cool relief filled his lungs and he lets out a long breath. a deep breath in, then out, still shocking the second time though not with quite the same suckerpunch.
he glances up to pal again with a firmer nod.] It worked again. I suppose we wait and see if it's a matter of timing. This time we won't leave the bunker and see if the time passes without incident?
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It's terrible just watching Viktor go through the stress of this thing more than once; he can only imagine experiencing it live is worse.]
Alright. Let's— sit.
[Over on the couch, where he leads them, arm still wrapped around Viktor for support. There's also the matter of, hm, the integrity test... maybe if he wasn't moments away from throwing the rest of the blueberries against the wall. Still, once they've settled on the couch, he nudges Viktor's knee, come put these skinny legs in his lap, they're not going to spend this nebulous length of time sitting normally. Gosh.]
This time, let's save the test for later. And I just don't like to eat mush. Not a crime.
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cw vaguely suicidal ideation kind of?? trench version where you're not permadead so idk
broad cw for illness talk for likely the rest of this thread
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