Desensitization II -- an SPD fic
This is something of a follow-up to this story, though the two can be read separately without any problem.
Rating: PG (?)
Characters: Bridge/Sky
- -
“Are you sure about this?”
Sky stared at the bare back that was turned to him, at the skin that deserved to see a little more sunlight. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”
The almost-bare shoulders shrugged nervously. Bridge was leaning forward, his arms wrapped around his knees and the two shirts he always wore underneath his jacket hanging around his neck. They offered little protection that way, but apparently he was unwilling to part with the security of having them there at all.
“All right.” The weirdness of the situation struck him again for the twentieth time, but he pushed the thought away. Bridge had asked him quite sincerely for his help with this…exercise, and had told him at every turn he wouldn’t be offended if Sky chose to back out for any reason. But as soon as he said that, it did feel incredibly judgmental to back out on him. Bridge couldn’t help what his powers were, after all, any more than Sky could.
“Are you ready?” he asked, and Bridge nodded.
Sky reached out a hand and tentatively laid it on Bridge’s shoulder. Immediately, the other man jerked away from his touch, and Sky retracted his hand faster than water off hot oil.
“Sorry,” he muttered, his face warming with embarrassment. Maybe this really was a terrible idea. Bridge was breathing as if he’d just run the 100-meter dash, and the hairs on the back of his neck were standing up. Goosebumps had formed all along the other man’s arm. Wow. There was no way such a rapid change in equilibrium could be healthy.
For the first time in his life, Sky thought maybe he was lucky for getting stuck with the forcefields.
“Are you okay?” he asked awkwardly, wishing there was some graceful way he could avoid going any further, because now he was genuinely worried he might hurt Bridge inadvertently.
“I’m okay,” the younger man replied after a moment. “But maybe just…?” He raised a hand with just the index finger pointing upward, and Sky got the message immediately. Less contact this time. His face reddened again for being so stupid.
“Okay,” he said, and reached out again, gingerly tapping Bridge’s shoulder with exactly one finger. It was like testing a surface to see if it was hot. Well…a different type of hot.
Knowing what he knew now about Bridge’s powers, Sky assumed that the number of people that had seen him in even this unremarkable state of undress was small, and the number that had actually touched him even smaller. Bridge’s strange dichotomy of innocent and haunted brought out Sky’s protective side like nothing else, and more recently, Sky allowed that maybe ‘protective’ wasn’t all he was feeling.
A gloved hand reached over and pressed Sky’s finger decisively against the skin of the shoulder.
“Science fiction,” Bridge said quietly. “Through the Looking Glass. Art class.”
“Huh?”
“You liked charcoal, drawing with charcoal. Colors took up too much time.”
Sky wasn’t sure what to say. He hadn’t touched a sketchpad in almost five years. Bridge had warned him that participating in this exercise would mean potentially laying out his entire life on the table, since Bridge wasn’t sure what or how much he would see. Clearly Sky hadn’t understood the real implication of that until it was happening, right now.
Bridge let go of his finger. “Try somewhere else.”
Sky moved his finger to the other shoulder.
“Track team. Presidential scholar award. Math tutor.”
Sky blushed. Sandra had been as good at kissing as she was at trigonometry…Bridge chuckled slightly and Sky slid his finger over to the base of his neck, wondering if that would work the same way changing the channel on a television would.
Bridge inhaled sharply, and Sky instantly removed his hand. Damnit.
“Your father’s funeral,” the younger man whispered.
Sky froze, his mind immediately starting to drift back in time. He didn’t have to be a psychic to get lost in that particular memory.
“Try again?” Bridge said, only this time it came out more like a question. Clearly he was the more experienced one at breaking out of gripping reveries.
Sky shook his head slightly. “Are you sure?”
“If you are.”
So he reached out and touched the nape of Bridge’s neck again. When that didn’t elicit any type of response, he extended his second finger and laid that down as well. Nothing. He slid his fingers a few inches down Bridge’s spine, and couldn’t help a slight smirk when he saw the back muscles contract.
“Cornell,” Bridge said, and it might have been purely Sky’s imagination that thought he sounded slightly breathless. “Flying home. Your mom’s wedding. Moving out.”
Moving out of his old house had been hard, harder than he’d expected it to be. He’d already been living at SPD for three years when his mom sold it to live with his stepfather, but it was the house he’d grown up in.
Correction: it was the house that reminded him of his dad, even more so than the Delta Base. It was the last place he had had a complete family.
Sky forgot that he still had his fingers on Bridge’s back, until the other man asked softly, "Should we stop?"
“No.” He was here to help Bridge, not get depressed about things that were old news anyway. He moved his fingers a little further down Bridge’s back, the sensation helping to chase away some of his gloomy feelings.
“Dru.”
Sky paused. “What about Dru?”
“You were…close.”
Way to be vague, Sky thought wryly.
“Try your hand again.” Bridge said, and Sky raised an eyebrow even though the other man couldn’t see it.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
More than a bit apprehensively, Sky carefully laid a hand over Bridge’s left shoulder blade, but it was curved so that only his fingertips and the heel of his palm made contact. The other man didn’t pull away this time, and Sky slowly straightened out his hand until it was flat against Bridge's back.
“I think it’s working,” Bridge said quietly.
“What do you see now?”
“Nothing.” There was a faint tinge of…something in Bridge’s voice. “But I can feel you.”
Sky looked at his hand, and had the sudden thought that it was probably more or less over where Bridge’s heart would be. “Well, I would hope so.”
“No, I meant,”-a gloved hand came up to wave in a demonstrative circle-“your aura.”
Sky had let Bridge read his aura a dozen times before. He knew some other people around the base found the gesture rather intrusive, but he had never cared one way or the other. All he knew was that aura reading let Bridge know exactly when to leave him alone, because apparently he turned a certain color when he was in a bad mood. And now, he knew even more that aura reading really was one of the less intimate aspects of Bridge’s powers.
“So now what?” Sky asked.
“Give me your hand.”
Puzzled, Sky let Bridge pull his hand over his shoulder. He thought maybe Bridge was going to risk contact without his gloves, the next logical progression-until he felt lips press against his fingertips.
“Still nothing,” Bridge said. “Well, a little something. But practically nothing.”
It was more of an automatic reaction to the unexpected when he snatched his hand back. “Turn around. Right now.”
Bridge obliged, and had the sense to look a little abashed when he saw Sky’s expression.
“You knew,” Sky said.
“Yeah.”
“So what was all this…this…” What? A ploy? A ruse to find out how Sky felt about him without having to reveal anything in return? A way to know everything about Sky’s life while staying behind the security of leather gloves?
…An incredible act of trust. There was little Bridge could have done to be more vulnerable than he had been, short of shucking his gloves.
Bridge sighed, and started slipping his shirts back on properly. “I wasn’t lying when I said wanted to get used to you. This…helped clear the air a lot. It’s a lot quieter in here now.” He stood up, ostensibly to tuck in the layers he had on, but he was clearly retreating.
“So thanks for your help,” he finished awkwardly, and was back on his side of the room before Sky could reply.
“Bridge,” Sky began, but his roommate did something he had never done before. He ignored Sky. He grabbed his jacket and hurried out the door without a backward glance.
Innocent, haunted, but definitely not naïve. Sky fell back on his bed and dropped his pillow over his face.
And infinitely less stupid than he had just been.
- -
References: "Through the Looking Glass" is a direct nod to Hush by
kikos_ai. The science fiction bit is from the various people who have decided that that is what Sky is really reading behind his SPD manual. And this fic as a whole is definitely for
shurimon who has fostered a growing interest in Bridge/Sky in me whether she meant to or not.
Rating: PG (?)
Characters: Bridge/Sky
- -
“Are you sure about this?”
Sky stared at the bare back that was turned to him, at the skin that deserved to see a little more sunlight. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”
The almost-bare shoulders shrugged nervously. Bridge was leaning forward, his arms wrapped around his knees and the two shirts he always wore underneath his jacket hanging around his neck. They offered little protection that way, but apparently he was unwilling to part with the security of having them there at all.
“All right.” The weirdness of the situation struck him again for the twentieth time, but he pushed the thought away. Bridge had asked him quite sincerely for his help with this…exercise, and had told him at every turn he wouldn’t be offended if Sky chose to back out for any reason. But as soon as he said that, it did feel incredibly judgmental to back out on him. Bridge couldn’t help what his powers were, after all, any more than Sky could.
“Are you ready?” he asked, and Bridge nodded.
Sky reached out a hand and tentatively laid it on Bridge’s shoulder. Immediately, the other man jerked away from his touch, and Sky retracted his hand faster than water off hot oil.
“Sorry,” he muttered, his face warming with embarrassment. Maybe this really was a terrible idea. Bridge was breathing as if he’d just run the 100-meter dash, and the hairs on the back of his neck were standing up. Goosebumps had formed all along the other man’s arm. Wow. There was no way such a rapid change in equilibrium could be healthy.
For the first time in his life, Sky thought maybe he was lucky for getting stuck with the forcefields.
“Are you okay?” he asked awkwardly, wishing there was some graceful way he could avoid going any further, because now he was genuinely worried he might hurt Bridge inadvertently.
“I’m okay,” the younger man replied after a moment. “But maybe just…?” He raised a hand with just the index finger pointing upward, and Sky got the message immediately. Less contact this time. His face reddened again for being so stupid.
“Okay,” he said, and reached out again, gingerly tapping Bridge’s shoulder with exactly one finger. It was like testing a surface to see if it was hot. Well…a different type of hot.
Knowing what he knew now about Bridge’s powers, Sky assumed that the number of people that had seen him in even this unremarkable state of undress was small, and the number that had actually touched him even smaller. Bridge’s strange dichotomy of innocent and haunted brought out Sky’s protective side like nothing else, and more recently, Sky allowed that maybe ‘protective’ wasn’t all he was feeling.
A gloved hand reached over and pressed Sky’s finger decisively against the skin of the shoulder.
“Science fiction,” Bridge said quietly. “Through the Looking Glass. Art class.”
“Huh?”
“You liked charcoal, drawing with charcoal. Colors took up too much time.”
Sky wasn’t sure what to say. He hadn’t touched a sketchpad in almost five years. Bridge had warned him that participating in this exercise would mean potentially laying out his entire life on the table, since Bridge wasn’t sure what or how much he would see. Clearly Sky hadn’t understood the real implication of that until it was happening, right now.
Bridge let go of his finger. “Try somewhere else.”
Sky moved his finger to the other shoulder.
“Track team. Presidential scholar award. Math tutor.”
Sky blushed. Sandra had been as good at kissing as she was at trigonometry…Bridge chuckled slightly and Sky slid his finger over to the base of his neck, wondering if that would work the same way changing the channel on a television would.
Bridge inhaled sharply, and Sky instantly removed his hand. Damnit.
“Your father’s funeral,” the younger man whispered.
Sky froze, his mind immediately starting to drift back in time. He didn’t have to be a psychic to get lost in that particular memory.
“Try again?” Bridge said, only this time it came out more like a question. Clearly he was the more experienced one at breaking out of gripping reveries.
Sky shook his head slightly. “Are you sure?”
“If you are.”
So he reached out and touched the nape of Bridge’s neck again. When that didn’t elicit any type of response, he extended his second finger and laid that down as well. Nothing. He slid his fingers a few inches down Bridge’s spine, and couldn’t help a slight smirk when he saw the back muscles contract.
“Cornell,” Bridge said, and it might have been purely Sky’s imagination that thought he sounded slightly breathless. “Flying home. Your mom’s wedding. Moving out.”
Moving out of his old house had been hard, harder than he’d expected it to be. He’d already been living at SPD for three years when his mom sold it to live with his stepfather, but it was the house he’d grown up in.
Correction: it was the house that reminded him of his dad, even more so than the Delta Base. It was the last place he had had a complete family.
Sky forgot that he still had his fingers on Bridge’s back, until the other man asked softly, "Should we stop?"
“No.” He was here to help Bridge, not get depressed about things that were old news anyway. He moved his fingers a little further down Bridge’s back, the sensation helping to chase away some of his gloomy feelings.
“Dru.”
Sky paused. “What about Dru?”
“You were…close.”
Way to be vague, Sky thought wryly.
“Try your hand again.” Bridge said, and Sky raised an eyebrow even though the other man couldn’t see it.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
More than a bit apprehensively, Sky carefully laid a hand over Bridge’s left shoulder blade, but it was curved so that only his fingertips and the heel of his palm made contact. The other man didn’t pull away this time, and Sky slowly straightened out his hand until it was flat against Bridge's back.
“I think it’s working,” Bridge said quietly.
“What do you see now?”
“Nothing.” There was a faint tinge of…something in Bridge’s voice. “But I can feel you.”
Sky looked at his hand, and had the sudden thought that it was probably more or less over where Bridge’s heart would be. “Well, I would hope so.”
“No, I meant,”-a gloved hand came up to wave in a demonstrative circle-“your aura.”
Sky had let Bridge read his aura a dozen times before. He knew some other people around the base found the gesture rather intrusive, but he had never cared one way or the other. All he knew was that aura reading let Bridge know exactly when to leave him alone, because apparently he turned a certain color when he was in a bad mood. And now, he knew even more that aura reading really was one of the less intimate aspects of Bridge’s powers.
“So now what?” Sky asked.
“Give me your hand.”
Puzzled, Sky let Bridge pull his hand over his shoulder. He thought maybe Bridge was going to risk contact without his gloves, the next logical progression-until he felt lips press against his fingertips.
“Still nothing,” Bridge said. “Well, a little something. But practically nothing.”
It was more of an automatic reaction to the unexpected when he snatched his hand back. “Turn around. Right now.”
Bridge obliged, and had the sense to look a little abashed when he saw Sky’s expression.
“You knew,” Sky said.
“Yeah.”
“So what was all this…this…” What? A ploy? A ruse to find out how Sky felt about him without having to reveal anything in return? A way to know everything about Sky’s life while staying behind the security of leather gloves?
…An incredible act of trust. There was little Bridge could have done to be more vulnerable than he had been, short of shucking his gloves.
Bridge sighed, and started slipping his shirts back on properly. “I wasn’t lying when I said wanted to get used to you. This…helped clear the air a lot. It’s a lot quieter in here now.” He stood up, ostensibly to tuck in the layers he had on, but he was clearly retreating.
“So thanks for your help,” he finished awkwardly, and was back on his side of the room before Sky could reply.
“Bridge,” Sky began, but his roommate did something he had never done before. He ignored Sky. He grabbed his jacket and hurried out the door without a backward glance.
Innocent, haunted, but definitely not naïve. Sky fell back on his bed and dropped his pillow over his face.
And infinitely less stupid than he had just been.
- -
References: "Through the Looking Glass" is a direct nod to Hush by
kikos_ai. The science fiction bit is from the various people who have decided that that is what Sky is really reading behind his SPD manual. And this fic as a whole is definitely for
shurimon who has fostered a growing interest in Bridge/Sky in me whether she meant to or not.