Title: Breathe on Me
Title: Breathe on Me
Fandom: Jumper
Rating: PG13
Characters: Griffin/David
Living with David, Griffin very soon realized, was noisy. He constantly moved around the apartment, jumping from one place to another, banging around in the kitchen, humming in the bathroom, doing what sounded like rearranging the whole bedroom before finally jumping beside him on the couch, where, even sitting still he would continue to make noise.
Foot tapping.
Finger drumming.
Throat clearing.
And worst of all…
Making “suggestions” on how to play his videogames.
During the day Griffin would wish fervently for his old lair: the dank, underground rooms, the bare walls, the bad lighting, and best of all, the silence. It had been in the middle of nowhere, location unknown to any other living being and after days spent tracking and fighting Paladins, after going from city to city, country to country, it had been nice to go home to that welcoming, all encompassing silence.
But at night, he would stay awake, listening to David breathe beside him. His breaths were deep and even, uninterrupted by the nightmares that Griffin so often experienced. He would lay his head just so on David’s chest, so he could feel the rise and drop with each breath, he would cling to the sound in a way he’d never admit, and remember the time when the sound was missing.
His hands were wet and cold and they slipped on even colder skin as he felt desperately for a pulse, clasping David’s wrist in his hands and cursing his own pulse when it was all he could feel. He dropped the wrist, leaning over the chest and pressing his ear against his mouth, waiting, hoping to feel the movement of air against his skin.
Nothing.
His own breath was coming in harsh, desperate gasps as he placed his hands on David’s chest in a way that was unfamiliar--he’d never tried to save a life before, only tried to end it--and pressed down hard, hard enough to crack ribs and he leaned forward again only to be met with more silence and his wrists hurt and eyes stung as opened his mouth and poured is own breath into David, all of it, he could have all of it and for the first time in a long time he prayed, a jumbled mixture of cries and words and tears--
God…God, please…
At night, he would press himself close (closer than he allowed himself during the day), listen to the sound of David breathing and think, he didn’t care for silence anymore.
Fandom: Jumper
Rating: PG13
Characters: Griffin/David
Living with David, Griffin very soon realized, was noisy. He constantly moved around the apartment, jumping from one place to another, banging around in the kitchen, humming in the bathroom, doing what sounded like rearranging the whole bedroom before finally jumping beside him on the couch, where, even sitting still he would continue to make noise.
Foot tapping.
Finger drumming.
Throat clearing.
And worst of all…
Making “suggestions” on how to play his videogames.
During the day Griffin would wish fervently for his old lair: the dank, underground rooms, the bare walls, the bad lighting, and best of all, the silence. It had been in the middle of nowhere, location unknown to any other living being and after days spent tracking and fighting Paladins, after going from city to city, country to country, it had been nice to go home to that welcoming, all encompassing silence.
But at night, he would stay awake, listening to David breathe beside him. His breaths were deep and even, uninterrupted by the nightmares that Griffin so often experienced. He would lay his head just so on David’s chest, so he could feel the rise and drop with each breath, he would cling to the sound in a way he’d never admit, and remember the time when the sound was missing.
His hands were wet and cold and they slipped on even colder skin as he felt desperately for a pulse, clasping David’s wrist in his hands and cursing his own pulse when it was all he could feel. He dropped the wrist, leaning over the chest and pressing his ear against his mouth, waiting, hoping to feel the movement of air against his skin.
Nothing.
His own breath was coming in harsh, desperate gasps as he placed his hands on David’s chest in a way that was unfamiliar--he’d never tried to save a life before, only tried to end it--and pressed down hard, hard enough to crack ribs and he leaned forward again only to be met with more silence and his wrists hurt and eyes stung as opened his mouth and poured is own breath into David, all of it, he could have all of it and for the first time in a long time he prayed, a jumbled mixture of cries and words and tears--
God…God, please…
At night, he would press himself close (closer than he allowed himself during the day), listen to the sound of David breathing and think, he didn’t care for silence anymore.