It's so hard to find your way when you have no voice to guide you
Who: Jason and Dr. Watson
Where: The lounge
When: Late afternoon.
Summary: Jason finally meets Dr. Watson.
Rating: G? PG? IT'S TOTALLY NC-17 GUYS.
What drives Jason out of his room and into the lounge isn't really a desire to be more social, but an infuriating itch just beneath the surface of his skin, the sort that creeps and crawls around inside of him until he can't sit still anymore. He'd moved to the lounge in the hopes a change of scenery would help that crawling feeling of being uncomfortable, restless, fluttery, but it didn't really help all that much. He has his legs crossed, one ankle resting against the opposite knee, and his elbow on the arm of the couch, as if by purposely making his body uncomfortable it could somehow counteract the dissatisfaction buried deep inside.
It isn't really working.
It isn't like he exactly expected it to, but he had been hoping that maybe -- maybe -- he'd be able to take control of himself again. He feels just as out of control and confused as he had before he had... left home, and he doesn't like feeling like that. Feeling like that scares him, just a little, because he feels like he's heading toward an unavoidable conclusion. Even if he knows what that conclusion is... he hasn't been able to put a name to it, exactly. He can't even really think about it directly, only in half-felt feelings and half-formed thoughts.
Since the game room, Jason's only been increasingly reminded of what he's left behind. He wasn't exactly close to any of his friends -- though it's easy to say Jason wasn't really close to anyone -- but he still misses their faces, a little, even if the thought of trying to be what he was then is disconcerting. He isn't sure he has the strength to do that, to be that anymore, and he doesn't know what to think about that. If he can't be that person... Another half-formed thought; he pushes it away.
Peter and Nadia, though, those are people he can genuinely say he misses. It hurts to think of them and to think that he may never get to talk to them again, and maybe he's torturing himself by going through the pictures he has on his computer. There aren't too many pictures of him and Peter together; they never could hang any up anyway, and even when they were alone, they weren't camwhores. There are a handful of them out with the group, when they dared to get close, and there's a small handful of pictures in a locked folder on Jason's hard drive, hidden in the AIM sounds folder. That's what he's looking at now, at Peter pressing a kiss against Jason's cheek, at Peter's head resting against Jason's shoulder, at the two of them with their foreheads touching.
Maybe he shouldn't be doing this in the lounge but somewhere in those half-felt feelings there's a sense that he shouldn't be alone, not right now -- not that he's looking for company, either.
Where: The lounge
When: Late afternoon.
Summary: Jason finally meets Dr. Watson.
Rating: G? PG? IT'S TOTALLY NC-17 GUYS.
What drives Jason out of his room and into the lounge isn't really a desire to be more social, but an infuriating itch just beneath the surface of his skin, the sort that creeps and crawls around inside of him until he can't sit still anymore. He'd moved to the lounge in the hopes a change of scenery would help that crawling feeling of being uncomfortable, restless, fluttery, but it didn't really help all that much. He has his legs crossed, one ankle resting against the opposite knee, and his elbow on the arm of the couch, as if by purposely making his body uncomfortable it could somehow counteract the dissatisfaction buried deep inside.
It isn't really working.
It isn't like he exactly expected it to, but he had been hoping that maybe -- maybe -- he'd be able to take control of himself again. He feels just as out of control and confused as he had before he had... left home, and he doesn't like feeling like that. Feeling like that scares him, just a little, because he feels like he's heading toward an unavoidable conclusion. Even if he knows what that conclusion is... he hasn't been able to put a name to it, exactly. He can't even really think about it directly, only in half-felt feelings and half-formed thoughts.
Since the game room, Jason's only been increasingly reminded of what he's left behind. He wasn't exactly close to any of his friends -- though it's easy to say Jason wasn't really close to anyone -- but he still misses their faces, a little, even if the thought of trying to be what he was then is disconcerting. He isn't sure he has the strength to do that, to be that anymore, and he doesn't know what to think about that. If he can't be that person... Another half-formed thought; he pushes it away.
Peter and Nadia, though, those are people he can genuinely say he misses. It hurts to think of them and to think that he may never get to talk to them again, and maybe he's torturing himself by going through the pictures he has on his computer. There aren't too many pictures of him and Peter together; they never could hang any up anyway, and even when they were alone, they weren't camwhores. There are a handful of them out with the group, when they dared to get close, and there's a small handful of pictures in a locked folder on Jason's hard drive, hidden in the AIM sounds folder. That's what he's looking at now, at Peter pressing a kiss against Jason's cheek, at Peter's head resting against Jason's shoulder, at the two of them with their foreheads touching.
Maybe he shouldn't be doing this in the lounge but somewhere in those half-felt feelings there's a sense that he shouldn't be alone, not right now -- not that he's looking for company, either.