xx. death of a bachelor

[Deleted]

As unfortunate as it was, Jimmy had to go to class that morning. Not that he disliked school, the furthest thing from it in fact, but with the introduction of Devereaux into his life, he had more things to think about rather than school, work, and patrol now. Which was, arguably, much better. It did make getting out of bed hard however. Partly because he enjoyed sleepily cuddling Dev in the wee hours of the morning, just listening to his heart or his breathing, and curling around the younger man. It occurred to Jimmy, during those early hours, with his arms wound around the other boy, that he was falling fast. It didn't incite panic in him like it might've years before. If anything it was simply stating the obvious. Beyond genuinely wanting to protect anyone and everyone he could, he'd wanted to keep Dev especially close, both physically and emotionally, and that was an entirely new development, or it felt like it at least. Sure he had friends, but they didn't know much about what he did outside class or work. In the end however, he begrudgingly drug himself out from the warmth of the comforters to take a shower and start his morning routine. With a twist however. Normally, Jimmy didn't cook for himself. He simply didn't have time. Most of the time it would be stopping by the Bistro or a chain restaurant, or HomeGrown if he was out in that area. Which is how he found himself writing a quick note for Dev, pressing a kiss to his forehead, and making a quick run to the grocery store on the corner. An hour and a half later, and a full hour before he needed to be in class, he had two plates of breakfast ready. Jimmy was out of practice to say the least, and the first 'eggs in a basket' he'd made showed that visibly. He nigh automatically loaded the 'ugly' one onto his own plate, drizzling honey over the toast and eggs, being mindful of the bacon laying beside it. Gently as he could he woke Dev up to surprise him with breakfast in bed- and coffee of course, he wasn't a monster, explaining his class schedule, and all but begging him to stay in or around the apartment at least until he got home later. With their plates clean, and about thirty minutes until his class, Jimmy pressed another soft kiss, this time against Dev's lips. Collecting their plates and depositing them in the sink, he headed out for his morning classes. ........ Hours later, he was in the lift of his apartment building, a bundle of surprises clutched close to his chest, including a bouquet of blush pink camellias. Admittedly, it might have been too much, but he almost couldn't help himself. Especially considering between classes, and perhaps even during, he'd brewed up another date idea he thought Dev would appreciate. At least, he hoped so.

. . . and you can sleep in a coffin, but the past ain't through with you. . . phobia @dev wordcount: 493

template by rem of WW

[googlefont=Dancing Script]

[Deleted]

He told himself that it wasn't a big deal; that he just enjoyed Jimmy's company, none of it meant he was actually relying on the other man; that it was nice to have someone he saw regularly, but it wasn't going to last; even that he just kept coming back because the sex was so good, and if he wanted to spoon with Jimmy for hours afterward, it didn't factor in. Devereaux had spent years actively avoiding building lasting ties with other people - out of fear, anxiety, necessity and so many other things. Having Jimmy as anything but a guest appearance in his life didn't make sense. It went against the fiber of his being and every personal ethos and standard Dev had built his existence on since getting his powers. But here he was. All but living in Jimmy's apartment, content to waste away hours just staring at the other man's face, or feeling his skin crush against Jimmy's - in ways deliciously carnal or romantically wholesome. Devereaux tried to justify every little point of his feelings for Jimmy and actions regarding him, but those arguments hadn't been very convincing from the start and every passing day they felt more and more shallow. The strangest part was... Devereaux didn't mind. If the choices were compromising his own laws by staying with Jimmy, or upholding them by leaving him... The choice was so simple that Dev couldn't wrap his mind around it. He hadn't slept as soundly or felt as safe as he did with Jimmy's arms around him - their body heat mingling and pressed so close together in a tangle of limbs they might as well have been one person - his entire life. Particularly since the despicable events that'd given Devereaux his powers, he'd been a light and infrequent sleeper, fully alert at the slightest sound. Now? It'd just been a little over a week since Jimmy had first shown Dev his apartment and he slept so deeply he didn't notice Jimmy was up until a tray of breakfast food was wafting in front of his face. And then? They just ate together and talked, Dev rosy-cheeked from the romanticism of it all. He'd thought, not long ago, that couples were stupid for putting so much reliance on another person; didn't they get bored, stuck together? Now he was thinking of himself and Jimmy as a couple and... Well, he spent most of the time while Jimmy was out at class that day just staring at nothing, sighing contently, and marveling at how quickly James Regall had turned his life upside-down. Time was eaten up deceptively quickly that way, because soon the door was opening and Jimmy was home. Devereaux looked up, grin faltering, then revived by the bouquet of flowers that Jimmy was leading with. "And people say we French are the romantic ones," he said, accepting the flowers and breathing them in deeply. After discovering that the other man knew French fluently, Devereaux hardly spoke English in his presence. He hooked one hand around the back of Jimmy's neck and pulled him into a fierce kiss then, with just a hair's distance between their lips, said, "I missed you." And part of him felt like an idiot, but the rest of him was much too happy to care if he was one.

. . . I'm trying, I'm trying To let you know just how much you mean to me . . . deathsinger @jimmy

template by rem of WW

[googlefont=Dancing Script]

[Deleted]

In an instant, his lips curled into a bright and uninhibited smile, flashing his teeth at the other boy. Jimmy all but glowed at the words spoken to him, setting his bag and the bundle of groceries and goods down beside the door, before leaning gratefully into the embrace and the kiss that followed. Mirroring Dev, he drew his arm up, playing with the wavy blonde hair at the nape of his neck. As they parted, he pressed his forehead against the younger man's, hiss other hand reaching for Dev's to trace a reply against his palm. "I missed you." He wrote, and then, "I have a surprise for you." Since that first night, Jimmy had hardly used the little communicator, opting for drawing his responses against his companion's open palm instead any chance he got. As thankful as he was for the presence of the glorified speak and spell, he hated using it at all. This new way of communication lent itself to intimacy anyways, and that was a win in his book. Pressing a decidedly soft and sweet kiss to Dev's lips, he turned back to the bags on the floor near the entryway, grinning with near tangible enthusiasm. From the bundle, he produced a small oblong gift box, hurrying back to Dev and opening it, offering the contents to him. It was a duplicate key to his apartment. Drawing against the younger boy's palm once more, in French of course, being their language of choice now, "I figure this will make it easier to come and go as you like. It works for the both the lift gate and the front door." With his explanation finished, he pressed the key into Dev's palm, and using his own hand to fold the other boys fingers into a fist around the offering, before drawing the now closed palm up to his lips where he brushed his lips against the knuckles, as if sealing them shut with the kisses. Gift given, he returned to the pile, throwing his hand up as if to say 'that's not all', before searching the haul for the movie he'd picked up.

. . . and you can sleep in a coffin, but the past ain't through with you. . . phobia @dev wordcount: 375

template by rem of WW

[googlefont=Dancing Script]

[Deleted]

The word-tracing had been hard to adjust to on Devereaux's part, and those first few days he was always caught between focusing wholly on picturing the letters and words in his head, or else the act lighting him on fire with longing. Those latter times, not much conversation was accomplished, because Dev would quickly and unabashedly begin ripping Jimmy's clothes off of him. The next few days were easier, though, and now Devereaux hardly had to think, Jimmy's words inscribed on his palm only a little less quickly than if he spoke them. They also still always stoked the unquenchable desire for Jimmy Dev could never tamp down, but he could resist the spell, for the most part, now. Devereaux's eyes glazed over, lips parting with labored breathing, at first. Then they perked up inquisitively and warily at mention of a present. Jimmy opened the box and it took a few seconds for Dev to understand what it was he was looking at. He listened to Jimmy's written words, but his brain was stalling, turning over and over trying to get traction. So far he'd managed to keep a secret that he had nowhere to live. He'd also used his brief windows away from Jimmy - when he was at class or doing Aegis work as Phobia - and got enough clothes to disguise that the only belongings he had were in the duffle bag he'd brought with him to the apartment that first night. The key itself was a physical representation of just how quickly things had been moving with them. The jaded and defensive creature that trauma and torture had nurtured in Dev over the past years recoiled at the token. But that creature was growing weaker and weaker as the days - hours, really - ticked along. The majority of Devereaux's mind was stunned and feeling mildly undeserving of such a gift. Jimmy put the key in his hand and curled his fingers over it. That shook some of the ice off of Dev's thoughts and the feeling of the other man's lips reverently on his knuckles breathed life back into him. "James I-" he started to say, but he was gesturing at Dev to wait, that there was more, and he was crouching down rustling through the bags he'd brought. Dev swallowed. He turned and set the flowers carefully aside. With his back still to Jimmy, he stared at the key, matching what he truly felt against what his brain told him he should be feeling. Devereaux swallowed again and unclasped the simple necklace he wore around his neck. He slid the key onto it, then fastened it around his throat again. Lastly, Dev brought the key to his lips absently and pressed a kiss to it... Then he felt Jimmy's eyes on him.

. . . I'm trying, I'm trying To let you know just how much you mean to me . . . deathsinger @jimmy

template by rem of WW

[googlefont=Dancing Script]

[Deleted]

After a brief search, he found the movie at the bottom of the bag. Glancing at Dev, he nearly missed seeing the other boy putting the key on his necklace and kissing it. Jimmy's heart did a flip at that, surging with an assortment of sappy thoughts and feelings simultaneously. He met the gaze leveled at him with a soft smile. His brain traveled off on a tangent, considering how at ease and less paranoid he'd been the last week just having Dev around. He wasn't self destructive by any means, but he just seemed to take better care of himself with the presence of the other man. The groceries were obvious evidence of that, he couldn't remember the last time he'd actually taken a break and relaxed at home long enough to justify picking up anything other than quick meals. It felt good. Especially because the time spent relaxing was with Dev. Jimmy realized he'd paused briefly, and that he'd been staring doe-eyed at the younger man. Against his will, his cheeks colored light pink and he let out a silent laugh. Rather than simply return with just the DVD case in hand, he grabbed the brown paper bag with it, setting it on the coffee table before turning to proudly present the film, "I Am Jonas", to Dev with a grin. He then gestured vaguely to the bag, containing various boxes of food he'd picked up from HomeGrown on the way over. As a quick interlude, he set the movie down near the TV to put the other bags of groceries away before he could get distracted and forget about them. In the meantime, he slipped his low top trainers off, arranging them beside his backpack. Returning, he flipped the TV on, pausing to put the DVD in and navigate the selection screen before all but collapsing on the couch. Carefully he unpacked the bag, setting the food out in front of the couch on the coffee table. Beckoning for Dev to sit beside him, he grinned and simply signed in ASL, "Date."

. . . and you can sleep in a coffin, but the past ain't through with you. . . phobia @dev wordcount: 345

template by rem of WW

[googlefont=Dancing Script]

[Deleted]

Jimmy's eyes were glazed over, staring at him. Devereaux smiled gently back at the other man. It wasn't unlike Jimmy to get lost like that, and Dev had had his fair share of times just marveling at Jimmy, too. His chest somehow tightened and expanded at the same time and that feeling only doubled when Jimmy realized he'd been staring, his cheeks colors and his lips framed an unheard laugh. Then Jimmy was on his feet, rustling around the apartment again like he'd never stopped. Devereaux watched him for a moment, then his nostrils pricked and he dropped his attention on his flowers. No one had ever given him flowers before. Devereaux didn't know what to do with them, really, now, except admire them - and people put them in vases with water, right? Devereaux looked at his own half-finished glass of water from before Jimmy got home. He lifted the bouquet, carefully undid the wrapping around them and set them in the makeshift vase. Satisfied, Devereaux picked them up and set them to the side of the coffee table - in clear sight, but not blocking the tv - just in time for Jimmy to gesture at his spread. Jimmy'd been teaching him the alphabet in ASL casually. Even if most of the time Dev only knitted together some very X-rated dare or tease that put them immediately back in the bedroom, he was starting to get a bit more comfortable. Besides, the spread spoke for itself, and the letters Dev caught just underlined it. He smiled devilishly. "Our third date," he pointed out, counting their first and second times in the mini-golf course. "You know what that means." And, with that smoldering promise in the air between them, Devereaux promptly pretended he hadn't said it, cruelly letting the dark promise burn away at Jimmy. He dropped down on the sofa beside James and smiled sidelong and innocently at him. Nudging his chin at the television screen, he conversationally said, "I've never seen this."

. . . I'm trying, I'm trying To let you know just how much you mean to me . . . deathsinger @jimmy

template by rem of WW

[googlefont=Dancing Script]

[Deleted]

"You know what that means." He couldn't help the rush of heat that burned through his skin at that, and he bit the inside of his cheek, throwing a crooked smile in response to the promise. Exhaling through his nose, he resolved to combat the surging in his veins by drawing his arm around Dev, pulling him close. Buried under the rising tide of want however, part of him was proud that Dev seemed to be picking up ASL pretty quickly. In the hours he couldn't sleep, before he met Dev, Jimmy took to watching movies on a pretty regular basis. The habit lent itself especially to nights after patrols when he was still feeling too high strung and restless to fall asleep. It made him not so much a snob for movies, more so he simply just appreciated them a lot more. Silent films were usually more his thing, almost a private joke to himself, but this particular film seemed to be a good pick that both of them ought to enjoy. Worst case scenario, he figured they could simply bond over making fun of it. His hand found Dev's, and he traced the words in his mind out, visualizing them in his head as he went in an attempt to tamp down some of the longing that the younger man always seemed to draw out of him effortlessly. "Someone recommended it to me earlier. I thought we'd enjoy it." He wrote, smiling and pressing a gentle kiss against the shell of his companion's ear. As the title rolled, and the film started off, he sunk into the couch with a quiet and contented sigh. With equal intent to simply enjoy and bask in Dev's company and also vent some of the heat still surging within him, he brushed his lips against the other boy's temple and cheek, peppering his skin and soft hair with affectionate kisses. Idly he listened to the film's dialogue, though it became more background noise when paired with the lazy kisses.

. . . and you can sleep in a coffin, but the past ain't through with you. . . phobia @dev wordcount: 337

template by rem of WW

[googlefont=Dancing Script]

[Deleted]

Devereaux's ruthless attempt at seduction turned on him spectacularly. Jimmy snared him with an arm, and he could feel the fever in the other man's skin. Then, as the film started rolling, before Dev could think of doing it instead, he felt Jimmy's lips charting a course over his hair, cheek and temple. His breathing thinned in spite of him. Dev grasped onto Jimmy's thigh like a lifeline, shivering under the affections. Then, to pointedly fight back against this lazy and cruel kind of teasing, Devereaux started tracing daring lines along Jimmy's inner thigh, occasionally digging his nails in, when one of the kisses he felt drove a particularly sharp spike of need into him. Soon, only minutes into the movie, Devereaux's cheeks were dusky with pink heat, and his chest rose and fell in uneven breaths. His eyes watched the screen, but images and dialogue swam in front of his eyes like quicksilver; none of them sticking. Finally, Dev was done with the tug-of-war that was being fought. He'd been trying to get Jimmy to cave first, but any pride Devereaux had had been baked away by the fire in his blood. Dev took the hand of Jimmy's holding him captive and turned it. Vindictively, he began with his mouth at the tangle of veins on Jimmy's inner wrist, then traced one of them up his forearm, turning and laboring onto his knees as he went. He shoved back Jimmy's sleeve at the bicep and kept his progress as far as the fabric would allow. Then, when he couldn't go any further, he slung one leg over Jimmy's lap, perching on it, his knees bracketing the other man's hips. Devereaux looked down with eyes half-lidded and smoldering. He teased and taunted, mouth straying perilously close to Jimmy's, only to bite his bottom lip, or for his tongue to strike at the corner of his mouth before he slipped out of reach again. The movie carried on at his back.

. . . I'm trying, I'm trying To let you know just how much you mean to me . . . deathsinger @jimmy

template by rem of WW

[googlefont=Dancing Script]

[Deleted]

Drawing color to Dev's cheeks was more satisfying than he might've ever admitted. Especially since the younger of the two of them always seemed to bring a similar shade to his face on a regular basis. It was nice to have the shoe on the other foot, though it drove him senseless almost as much. With a playful nip, he traced Dev's jawline with his lips, trailing kisses methodically against his skin. It was then that he felt the lips on his wrist, and he saw it for what it was: payback. Jimmy knew the upper hand was lost the moment his companion levered to his knees. Having them frame his hips  was a formality, simply hammering a nail into the coffin that held all of his self control. His hand traced gingerly up Dev's hip, fingers rooting just under the hem of his shirt. He felt it more than he heard it, the growl of the other boy's stomach, and he paused, the overbearing part of him surging up through the haze. Glancing up at Dev, he reached up to cup his cheek and still him. Finding one of his palms, he wrote: "You need to eat. I promise I'll make it up to you later, just humor me." There was a twinge of guilt that came with them breaking apart, but the rational side of him piped in, reminding him that making sure Dev was taken care of was priority number one, and he was inclined to agree wholeheartedly. As his heart slowed to a more manageable rhythm, he broke open the containers of food, passing one to the younger boy beside him and taking one for himself, setting it to the side. Tracing against his palm once more, he asked, "The key...it wasn't too much, right? Or...too little?" As we wrote he bit his lip, adding, "I just wanted to show you you're always welcome here."

. . . and you can sleep in a coffin, but the past ain't through with you. . . phobia @dev wordcount: 319

template by rem of WW

[googlefont=Dancing Script]

[Deleted]

He had never before been so totally betrayed by his own body. Devereaux was just about to end his teasing and drag Jimmy by the mouth past the point of no return when his stomach protested. He paused. He knew Jimmy well enough already to realize what that growl would mean. Jimmy held his cheek and Devereaux glared petulantly down at him. He paid attention to the words traced on his palm even if he knew more or less what they'd say from the start. The only thing that made Dev less childish about it all was Jimmy's promise to make it up to him later. "I'll make sure you do," he said ominously, crawling off of the older man's lap with a huff. Devereaux accepted the container of food handed to him and began nudging the contents with a fork moodily. Too petty to dig in despite how hungry he was. Not right away. At last, he took a bite, and that crumbled his resolve so he was tucking in properly a moment after. Jimmy collected his palm and etched words into it. Those words slowed the grinding of Devereaux's jaw until he stopped and swallowed. Jimmy didn't mean to, and he was being perfect, but they brought up a real truth that Dev'd been hiding and avoiding for the past week. -you're always welcome here, Jimmy had just etched. Devereaux gently put his container of food down on the coffee table. He'd been keeping it to himself for all this time. Even now, with a lead-in so clearly painted, ever instinct in Dev begged him to ignore it. Jimmy didn't need to know. They weren't- He paused to consider... To think of the toothbrush he had in Jimmy's bathroom; the foods he, personally, liked in the pantry and cupboards; the date they were having; how he felt like he had a bleeding wound when Jimmy went to work or class. "My place was torched by that gang the first night I came here," he said, a little too quickly and nonchalantly. "I didn't want... You've already done so much for me... I didn't want you to worry or pity me or treat me differently if you knew. I didn't think it was worth pointing out, even. I thought maybe we'd sleep together a few times and that'd be that. I'd move on. But... I haven't." Devereaux felt weird and woefully awkward, being so honest. It wasn't like him at all. He had next-to-no experience with actually wording his emotions. But he looked toward Jimmy in that moment and seeing him made all that doubt and second-guessing fade, and a warmth that had nothing to do with getting in Jimmy's pants fill his chest. "I don't think I want to," he added softly.

. . . I'm trying, I'm trying To let you know just how much you mean to me . . . deathsinger @jimmy

template by rem of WW

[googlefont=Dancing Script]