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 Posted: Thu Jun 05, 2014 8:01 pm
He felt sick.
The encounter at the Haunted House had not ended well, to say the least. It had not only left Alistaire with a sizable bruise on his shoulder and several scrapes on his arms, but also a rising sense of nausea due to the black mess that now covered most of his torso. He'd managed to get out before anything truly devastating, but that didn't mean that he wasn't horrendously out of sorts.
Alistaire staggered down the dorm hallway and stopped in front of his room, breathing heavily. A few beads of sweat were visible on his forehead, and he leaned against the door without opening it, his gloved hand curling into a fist against it.
He couldn't go inside. Ian might be inside, and he couldn't possibly see Ian, not now, not when he was...
His feet moved without him actually realizing he was moving, and then he was making his way slowly down the hall again, using one hand to prop himself up and the other pressed over his mouth to keep himself from throwing up all over the dormitory hallway. A wave of dizziness washed over him, and he was desperate to get out of his clothes, scrub himself for hours until he was clean, but...
Without intending to, he'd wound up at Harland's door; or maybe he'd just wanted to be there anyway, because for the first time he had someone that he knew would be willing to help him, even if he'd failed at achieving his objective.
He tried very hard not to think of Harland, and lifted one hand, knocking heavily on the door.
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Posted: Thu Jun 05, 2014 8:11 pm
Harland was at his desk, sketching the black insects that had risen up out of his skin, and then the various stages of recovery post-infection from the Sahara mission. Underneath that pencil sketch was a watercolour of Alistaire looking displeased at him after his Elvis number at the Deus pageant, but that had been for fun. And because Alistaire had a gorgeous face to draw, who was he kidding? The expression was beautiful, even if it wasn't in that idyllic way that most would have considered beautiful. He thought Alistaire's expression could, at times, be like a storm rolling in: the lightning alone was worth drawing.
He didn't expect a knock at the door, or company at all. He was in casual things, just his only pair of jeans and a dress shirt, when he went to answer the door, throwing a vest on over his dress shirt. His hair was down again, instead of tied up like he'd been keeping it the past while. He opened the door without trying to figure out who was out there; it was just Deus, after all.
"Can I help--" Harland saw that it was Alistaire, and he saw that he was covered in something very insidious looking. Immediately he wanted to reach out and fold him into his arms, check him all over to make sure he was okay, and he just as quickly knew that he couldn't. Harland's brain, slow motion, started to scan for possible threads:
What's happening? Don't know.
What should we do? Doesn't like to be touched, won't be comforted by it if he's already upset. Hates filth and disorder.
Should we remove the disorder? How, without touching him?
Water? Hot water?
Showers. What if he doesn't feel comfortable in the showers?
Harland finally asked: "An bhfuil pian ort? Are ye in pain, what can we do? We need t' get ye cleaned off, are there wounds under that? What in the Lord's sweet an' vengeful name happened?" Harland looked visibly concerned for him, wanted to fix Alistaire's discomfort as quickly as he could, and didn't know how. Harland grabbed his clean, fluffy red towel from where it was hanging by the door, and thrust it at Alistaire, so that he could at least wipe some of it off. The thick fluff of the plush towel had always comforted Harland, before... "Straight to th' showers, maybe?" Harland asked, his brows knit in concern.
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Posted: Thu Jun 05, 2014 9:32 pm
At first he thought that perhaps Harland wasn't in; but then the door swung open to reveal his smiling face, and Alistaire wasn't sure whether he should feel relieved or disappointed. He stumbled into the room, his breathing labored, and all but kicked the door shut behind him, leaning back against it as he let out a long hiss through his clenched teeth.
"Not in pain," he growled, his face paler than usual. "I just...there was a monster...in the Haunted House, and it..."
He didn't finish the sentence, mostly out of a lack of necessity; the evidence of the creature's affect on him was in plain sight, and it was making the nausea rise faster in Alistaire's throat. He clamped a hand over his mouth and focused instead on his breathing; on the steady presence of Harland as he handed him a towel. Instead of using it to wipe himself off, however, Alistaire pressed it to his face, inhaling a sharp breath.
"I need to wash," he mumbled into it, his voice muffled. "Get this - this - get it off of me."
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Posted: Thu Jun 05, 2014 9:57 pm
Harland backed out of Alistaire's way as he pushed in and shut the door, and listened with rapt attention, trying not to look terribly concerned for Alistaire. He did't always move fast; he was often mired in his thoughts, trying to trace every possible outcome with every fact he knew about the situation. Visualized his entire course, before deciding on a path to take.
Times like this, he wished he was a little faster.
He was using the time Alistaire was speaking and trying to calm down to figure out what to do. "Guess we'll have t' go back an' give 'em hell, won't we?" he asked, his voice low, "or I'll do it m'self," he finished. His face was dark, for a moment, the knife's edge of his affection for Alistaire exposed. He looked away, as if hiding the troubling severity of his anger on Alistaire's behalf, and approached Alistaire slowly to ask him if he could move from the door. "I'll be right back, hold on a moment," he said.
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Posted: Fri Jun 06, 2014 12:01 am
It felt a little easier to breathe, now that he was within the safety of Harland's room. But he was still battling the nausea, Alistaire's fingers fumbling with the buttons on his coat as he tried to undo them, get at least a part of his offensive clothing off before the black slime got anywhere else.
Harland's voice sounded strange; Alistaire lifted his gaze and looked at him, his face still pale, but there was something odd about the way in which Harland was looking at him.
But then it was gone, and he was back to his normal self, and Alistaire gripped the front of his coat, trying to yank it off without undoing all of the buttons (they were taking too much effort now). After a moment's frustration he lifted his hand and swiped it through his sweat-dampened hair, giving Harland a confused, slightly annoyed look.
"Where are you going?" he asked, but he'd stepped out of the way, his fingers reaching selfishly for Harland's wrist, for some sort of human contact to try and stabilize the erratic beating of his heart. "I need - I..."
He couldn't finish the sentence.
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Posted: Fri Jun 06, 2014 12:23 am
"To get hot water, and cloths," Harland said, watching Alistaire swiping a hand through his own hair after fumbling with the buttons. Harland didn't think twice about it, just started to deftly and gently remove each one so that he could help Alistaire shed the offensive layer.
"Can any more of it come away?" he asked, his expression serious. He wasn't trying to undress Alistaire for fun, he was asking if there were other garments that could be shed to alleviate some of the stress. Harland tried to help him out of whatever he could, taking the towel to gently mop at Alistaire's skin with the cleanest part of it he could find, his wrist snared in Alistaire's grip. "Let's get as much of it off as we can, an' I'll take ye to... somewhere we can wash it off. Where there won't be anyone but us," he added. "I don't want t' leave your side, ye ken?" Harland leaned his face closer, rested his forehead briefly on Alistaire's shoulder.
He didn't care what the black goo was. He just wanted to be with him, close to him, and the heat of Alistaire's fingers on his wrist was making his thoughts scatter like startled fish: his own heart sped up, and he swallowed hard as all he could think about was Alistaire's mouth on his and his body pressed against the door--
They had other issues to tackle, at the moment.
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Posted: Fri Jun 06, 2014 7:54 am
Harland's fingers were nimble as they undid each button, and Alistaire dragged in a ragged, sharp breath, trying to focus on the reddish colored waves of Harland's hair, or the way the light glinted off of his piercings, rather than the closeness of his fingertips. His chest was constricted with the effort of holding on, but then it was done and Alistaire stripped the coat off, dropping it to the floor with an audible sigh of relief.
"Most likely," he murmured, but his gloved fingers were at his neck, curled loosely around his collar and tie. Harland's ministrations were met with a slightly disoriented look, his thoughts spinning in confusion, and then Harland was too close too close not close enough, his head on Alistaire's shoulder.
He turned his head away, trying to breathe, and after a few seconds he felt the nausea rise, side by side with the anxiety and the pleasure of the warmth of Harland so close to him.
Alistaire pulled Harland's hand to his lips and kissed his fingertips almost idly, but there was also a strange neediness to it; a desire to focus on anything other than the disgusting mess on himself, the lack of cleanliness driving him crazy.
"Where are we going?" he asked, a little roughly. "Take me."
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Posted: Fri Jun 06, 2014 7:41 pm
Harland was trying very hard to empty his mind and think of only chaste things. It was working poorly, but his self-control was winning. Still, even if he was just helping Alistaire get Alistaire's coat off, it was undressing him and Harland had not mentally prepared himself for this.
Harland didn't want to overwhelm him, felt Alistaire turn his face, began to lean away when he felt Alistaire kiss his knuckles. He couldn't stand to see Alistaire so raw, not for his own sake, but for Alistaire's. Alistaire seemed so out of it, and although Harland loved the way that his nerves lit up everywhere Alistaire touched him, Harland couldn't come to terms with the notion that Alistaire was also extremely distressed.
"The pool showers; should be empty now, no one to bother us," Harland said, grabbing the towel and tossing it over his shoulder, throwing some clean clothing into a bag and then last but not least reaching for Alistaire's hand to try to lead him in the right direction.
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Posted: Fri Jun 06, 2014 7:53 pm
He swayed a little where he stood, his gaze slightly unfocused, but then he shook his head, Alistaire's dark eyes flickering over Harland's flushed face, the warmth of his fingers against his lips. It was a distraction, and a thankful one; something to focus on other than how disgusting he felt outwardly, and he knew instinctively that Harland was doing his best to take care of him.
He felt strangely childlike.
"The...I didn't even know we had a pool here," Alistaire muttered, and then glanced at Harland's hand, reaching to thread his fingers through his. He leaned forward and absently kissed the edge of Harland's jaw before he let go of his hand entirely, straightening his shoulders and stepping slightly away, though he still looked pale and unsteady.
"I'll follow you," he said."
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Posted: Fri Jun 06, 2014 9:20 pm
Harland was strongly resisting an urge to scoop Alistaire up and carry him in his arms. He would have done it, in a heartbeat, if he wasn't concerned Alistaire was too ill to fight off the nausea it would surely incur. And yet Alistaire seemed to be more willing to touch him, somehow, right now. Harland was the kind of person who believed in becoming strong for these very situations: so that should the people he loved descend into darkness, there'd be no question as to whether or not he had the strength to reach down and pull them up.
"Do we not?" he asked, with a smile, intent on retracing his steps to where he'd been last when he'd seen it. Harland's skin shuddered in anticipation as Alistaire kissed the edge of his jaw, and then let his hand slide free. He suddenly felt so cold, as if all that had been warming him was Alistaire's touch. He hated being so far away, wanted to close the gap--
wouldn't, for Alistaire's wellbeing.
"Won't take long," he promised, leading the way back exactly how he'd gone in the first place. He opened a few doors, flicked on some old lights, and the back entrance into the shower rooms preceeding the pool lit up. He hanged the bag of clean clothing up on a hook by the lockers, and tossed the towel onto the bench nearby. Took off his boots, left his socks on, grabbed the soap and a washcloth from the bag and immediately went over to the showers. He hoped he didn't catch anything weird from the floor, but it seemed like it'd been sanitized recently. He turned on the water until it was the right temperature, and stood under it, indifferent to the fact he was getting soaked even while fully dressed. With his free hand, he reached out to Alistaire, as if asking him to come forward.
"It's either this, or I toss ye into the pool," Harland joked.
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Posted: Fri Jun 06, 2014 11:12 pm
He followed Harland silently down the hallway, his breathing slightly labored; though Alistaire couldn't help but feel a certain sense of relief now that he no longer had his coat on. It had contained the majority of the mess, and now that he was free of it, he could breathe a little easier.
He could still feel it though, as though it had sunk deep into his skin, spreading a terrible, itching sensation up and down his arms and chest, the overwhelming desire to scrub until his skin was rubbed raw running rampant inside of his mind. Alistaire watched dully as Harland got things ready, though he started a little at the sight of Harland under the water, fully dressed.
Didn't he care that his clothes were getting soaked?
Wordlessly, Alistaire kicked off his shoes, but like Harland kept his socks on. Unlike Harland, however, Alistaire's hands were already fumbling with his tie as he walked forward, and then he'd yanked it off in an almost desperate gesture. His vest came off next, and then finally his shirt, until he was bare from the waist up, Alistaire taking everything and not putting it with his shoes, but dumping it into the wastebasket instead, his head spinning.
He kept his black slacks on and stepped beneath the spray of water, exhaling a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding as the heat of it sank into him. It was a reassuring sensation, though somewhat different now, awkwardly sharing his space with another man. Alistaire closed his eyes briefly, leaning his forehead against the wall as the water made his hair stick wetly to his face, sliding down his neck. There were a few scars on his back here and there, little nicks, and a nice purpleish bruise had started to form on his left shoulder, blossoming blue over his skin.
"I need soap," he muttered, his head still reeling, the nausea still high in his throat; but there was something simultaneously reassuring and terrifying of knowing that someone was there with him.
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Posted: Sat Jun 07, 2014 8:38 am
Harland didn’t know what to do in most of these situations, and he was constantly taking a leap of faith. He said and did the wrong thing a lot but it seemed like they could get over whatever obstacles they faced.
He didn’t, honestly, care that he was being soaked. Or rather, he wasn’t thinking about it. His clothing had never really been of a terrible concern, because he’d never been able to afford anything nice. Besides, he hadn’t even been wearing any of his better clothes this time around either. Just jeans and one dress shirt; worse things could have been soaked.
It would be a terrible lie to say all of Harland’s thoughts were saintly as he watched Alistaire take off his tie, his vest, his shirt-- standing there under the water with him, leaning his head against the wall. Harland shut his eyes and turned his face up at the water for a moment, as if it could clear his thoughts. "Do ye want the cuts cleaned on your back?" Harland asked, handing over the soap and one of the washcloths without hesitation.
Harland was torn in half, again: the half of him who wanted to touch Alistaire’s back gently, mop the cuts clean, lean in, kiss the skin where the back of Alistaire’s neck joined the muscle of his shoulder-- then there was the half of him who wanted to prove he was better than those impulses, prove he wasn’t trying to exploit the situation. That half of him would always win. He took a step back, and leaned against the wall out of the water, waiting for Alistaire’s input.
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Posted: Sat Jun 07, 2014 8:59 am
Alistaire would have minded more that his own slacks were now soaked, but considering he thought them tainted, and was going to trash them anyway, it didn't matter so much to him. Harland's clothes, however, were still clean - or at least, they might have been, before the impromptu shower.
He did not answer for several minutes, silently taking the soap and the cloth and beginning to scrub furiously at his arms and his chest. It was a careful, yet somewhat frenzied process, his fingers clenched in the cloth so tightly his knuckles were white. Three minutes spent scrubbing his forearm, another three minutes from his elbow to his shoulder and then six minutes for the other arm as well. Two minutes for each finger (and another two spent checking under each nail to make sure there was nothing underneath), a minute for his palms, and then a good five minutes for his chest and stomach.
There was no forgetting that Harland was directly behind him, not even a foot away, and close enough to feel the warmth radiating outwards from him; but his nauseating desire to get clean overrode any anxiety that might have stemmed from this.
It was quite some time later that the panic began to subside and his one-track thoughts slowly started to shift in other directions. Alistaire became quietly more aware of Harland's presence, and the anxiety crawled up and down his spine. Sometime during his panicked, obsessive cleaning, Harland had stepped back and was leaning against the wall, and now Alistaire turned to face him, his face flushed from the heat of the spray.
Wordlessly he held out the washcloth and soap again.
"I can't reach my back," he said flatly.
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Posted: Sat Jun 07, 2014 9:12 am
Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the fervent cleaning-- not for a reason one might suspect, though. He wasn’t watching Alistaire because he was still fighting his internal battle, though he probably still was, he was watching because he was learning. Learning how Alistaire approached this task, so that he could mimic it. It was a weird habit, sure, to study and learn, but he was in Death Division for a reason after all. Information was often his saving grace, especially when he was often so slow to react or to put clues together.
Harland waited patiently, silently, not openly observing but continuing to watch from his peripherals. Eventually, when Alistaire turned to face him and held out the washcloth and soap, Harland collected them from him with a smile and a nod.
It was a lot more gentle, though firm, the way that Harland scrubbed in small circles to clean all of Alistaire’s cuts. He paid particular mind to the bruise. "Careful here tonight, nasty bruise formin’ that won’t make sleep much fun," he said, quietly, his other hand cupped lightly around the front of Alistaire’s shoulder so that he could brace Alistaire’s body as he gently cleaned his back. He wet the cloth, washed the soap off, and examined the skin.
"Feel clean? Or again?" Harland asked, releasing his gentle grip on Alistaire’s shoulder and taking a step away to give Alistaire some space.
Even though he desperately didn’t want to.
Maybe it was the heat of the room, or solely the way this particular task was going, but Harland’s face was red as anything and he was having trouble taking normal breaths. His eyes were fever bright again, a condition seemingly reserved for Alistaire’s presence.
Harland wondered, hardly for the first or last time, how it was Alistaire made him so very not calm, so very not rational. Harland found himself wanting to say and do things far more impulsively, and had to constantly rein himself in.
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Posted: Sat Jun 07, 2014 11:35 am
In spite of knowing that Harland was there - seeing him there, actually hearing him speak again sent shivers up and down Alistaire's spine, because it meant that Harland wasn't just a figment of his imagination, that he was still here. Harland's clothes and Alistaire's slacks were both completely soaked through, though Alistaire twisted around so that he wasn't facing him, his chest tight.
Harland's fingers were warm and heavy on his shoulder, and in spite of the warning, Alistaire visibly flinched, letting out a low hiss of pain. The heat of Harland so close to him, combined with the temperature of the water, made thinking properly very difficult, and he felt dizzy and lightheaded; a combination of everything all at once.
Alistaire turned back around.
"No," he said flatly, "I don't."
He slid his trembling, scrubbed rough hands around Harland's neck and dragged him down, his lips pressing against his firmly.
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