Bruce & Bobby's Place || Monday, May 1|| Reassuring Yazoo (Backdated to Monday)
Bruce had a lot of work to doand omg so does his player. He'd not managed to get his files updated the other day at the Planet, and he couldn't afford to fall behind. Sure, his brain held the information available for retrieval any time he wanted it, but that was no way to maintain records. He couldn't count on never getting a head injury or never dying and someone else needing the things he knew.
So Bruce brewed a cup of coffee, opened his laptop, and settled in his den to do some catching up.
* * *
He was still feeling adrift. Lost. Confused. And he knew it wasn't going to get any better. Maybe Dr. Wilson was right and he needed to talk to Aziraphale. Part of Yazoo did want to. Just so he could raise his fist to the man. The other part didn't, not willing to expose himself to more cutting words.
Talking briefly to Kadaj, he left the shop, not bothering to go home and shower, hopped on his bike and headed to Tortuga. To a familiar apartment. To...what exactly?
He wasn't thinking and didn't want to think.
Parking, Yazoo used the key Bruce gave him in a scene that's still being played, was past the gate and up the stairs in a flash. He debated on whether to knock or just key in. But what use was having a key if he didn't use it and Yazoo keyed into Bruce's apartment. Early evening, Yazoo didn't even try to be quiet but hoping he didn't catch Bruce's 'roommate', Bobby, he thought the kids name was, out.
* * *
Bruce heard the key in the lock, but didn't get up. Bobby often came in without saying hello if he wanted to avoid talking. Bruce let him, because at his age, he'd wanted not to have to interact sometimes, too. He listened, though, in case Bobby had company, so he'd know not to intrude.
The tread on the floor didn't match Bobby's. Too light, almost stealthy.
Yazoo.
Bruce smiled to himself. "In here," he called quietly, before closing the laptop and making room on the couch.
* * *
Yazoo appeared in the doorway, leaning against the jamb. His arms came up to cross over his chest. He needed the distance, the shielding and began to question the efficacy of the protection that would really produce.
Frankly, he couldn't stop his knee-jerk reaction.
"Hey," he said softly, unmoving from where he stood. But even still, to be this close to the man, Yazoo knew this to be the right choice.
* * *
Everything about Yazoo screamed - in the quiet, calm way that kept his emotions hidden from most people - hurt and anger. So subtle, but it took Bruce's breath away with the force of it. Because for Yazoo, to even have come at all, when he felt this way, whatever the reason...it was stunning to him.
That he had come, even though his body posture said 'stay back, don't touch', meant he wanted something from Bruce.
Quelling the small concern that it might be something about him, or them, Bruce raised an eyebrow. What do you need from me, lover? "I'm glad you came." Whatever he wanted, needed, he would find it here.
* * *
Yazoo nodded. He wasn't sure what to say. He wasn't sure if he should say anything. Bruce would know something was up. Yazoo knew that as sure as he breathed the other man would notice.
In fact, Yazoo wasn't really sure why he was there. What did he want from Bruce? What did he hope to gain?
Actually, he knew what he wanted.
It wasn't acceptance he was seeking.
It was nonbetrayal. It was assurance that he wouldn't be left. That this wasn't an illusion.
That this was real.
* * *
The more Yazoo didn't speak, the more certain Bruce became that while whatever had sent him here didn't have to do with him, Yazoo needed something specific from him. Without the words to guide him, he had only his knowledge of the man. Knowledge gleaned by watching him, playing The Game, growing to care for him.
He considered. They'd fucked last week, something that had been a piece of The Game. Something that might've been an ending, if The Game were only about sex. Above all, Yazoo wanted to be desired, and Bruce suspected that this grew out of a need to control the people around him. If they wanted him, they wouldn't leave him. Or hurt him.
It might be that Yazoo needed proof that Bruce still wanted him.
That fit.
Another time, he might've worked to get Yazoo to come to him on the couch. But he had come such a very long way already, physically and emotionally, to put himself in a place where he could be hurt if Bruce responded badly. Neither The Game nor his heart would tolerate making Yazoo worry.
He went to Yazoo.
Standing facing him, but off to the side, close enough to touch, but not touching, not trapping him against the wall, but between Yazoo and the door, Bruce shared his space. He sought and held Yazoo's gaze, as much as the other man would allow, and then very deliberately and very slowly, reached behind him to pull the hair tie out of his hair. Then very deliberately, and very obviously, put that hair tie in his pocket.
* * *
The desire to bolt ran strong within Yazoo. But Bruce came no closer than was necessary to establish his presence. His breath caught in his throat at the aching slowness Bruce moved to remove the hairtie and place it in his pocket, as it if were a treasure.
Pushing up from the doorway, Yazoo watched Bruce, his gaze never waivering. Neutral. Guarded. Wary. He didn't want to believe his trust, rare to be given, would be broken. CJ hadn't. It remained to be seen if Bruce would.
It was just a matter of time, he supposed. Perhaps it was necessary that Yazoo, and all his brothers, not trust anyone in this place. Only Mother. To have trust was to establish ties and Yazoo knew it was only a matter of time before he and his brothers returned to Gaia. Was it worth it? Worth the risk again?
He hated he was unsure.
And he was tired.
Turning, Yazoo left the room, heading down the hall toward Bruce's room. Along the way, he pulled his tshirt over his head, letting it fall in the floor behind him as he disappeared into the bedroom.
* * *
Something had shifted in Yazoo, Bruce saw it in his eyes, even before he turned away. He didn't seem inclined to talk, but Bruce's gesture had soothed him enough that he wanted contact now. And he would have it.
With a quiet smile, he picked up the tshirt and followed Yazoo to his bedroom. Once there, he opened the drawer in which he kept Yazoo's hair ties, and, folding the tshirt carefully, set it in the drawer.
* * *
He watched as Bruce put the hairtie and shirt away. Tilting his head, Yazoo walked over, putting his hand out to keep Bruce from shutting the drawer.
Pulling it out further so he could easily see in it, his fingers moved over his shirt, touching the numerous ties already accumulated. He picked one up, his gaze shifting from the tie, to Bruce, in silent question.
* * *
He couldn't really have framed an answer in words. It had begun as part of The Game. But he'd found himself unwilling to throw them away. In the end, the only answer he really had probably wouldn't satisfy Yazoo's curiosity.
Bruce shrugged, a smile tugging at his mouth. "They're yours."
* * *
Looking back down at the drawer, Yazoo considered that answer in silence and slid it shut. They were his. No other reason than Bruce was collecting something that was his.
His fingers slipped along the front of Bruce's shirt, plucking at the fabric before his hand closed around the material. Stepping backward, Yazoo pulled for Bruce to follow, one deliberate step at a time until the backs of his legs hit Bruce's bed. He looked from the bed and then back to Bruce, the silent invitation issued.
* * *
Even if he hadn't wanted Yazoo right then, he'd have fucked him because Yazoo needed it, needed the reassurance. That was part of The Game and the promises he hadn't made Yazoo but held in his own head. To make Yazoo's life better, safer, happier, and if taking him to bed would help, then Bruce would.
Yet he did want Yazoo. Wanted the man in his arms and in his bed. So he followed, step by step, letting Yazoo lead him until he hit the bed. But once he did, Bruce unbuttoned his own shirt. Reaching for him, finally, Bruce sleeked a hand over Yazoo's hair, then cupped the back of his head and drew him to his chest.
* * *
Yazoo resisted. His hands rested on Bruce's waist and he pushed. Not hard, just enough to show he wasn't ready for the closeness. But with one inhale and being overwhelmed by Bruce's scent, he relented, allowing himself to be pulled close, to touch his forehead to Bruce's chest.
Instead of pushing, Yazoo slid his hands around to rest warmly in the middle of Bruce's back and he exhaled slowly. He relaxed into the embrace.
One shuddering breath and calm again, Yazoo lifted a knee, then the other, drawing Bruce to follow him onto the bed.
[ooc: played while LJ was down. No IC interaction possible, but OOC welcome.]