gimme some of that jo/naia that i C R A V E
This one… got out of hand…
Warning for drug use, Naia being fucking awkward, and catching feelings.
The couch isn’t really big enough for this, but Naia makes do. They’re a little too tall, so with their head resting on one arm, their legs dangle over the other. Not super comfy, but the couch came with the place and Luce had been distressed when Naia had cleaned it, so replacing it seemed like a bad idea.
And it’s okay, really, because even if their back is going to kill later, for now they’re almost boneless, relaxed. The couch is at least deep enough to hold their bulk, so they’re not in any danger of falling on the floor. Which is good, because with Jo curled up on their torso like some large, bony cat, they really don’t want to end up on the floor. This is comfortable enough, warm and lazy after a rough night.
Jo seemed to know when the nights were going to be hard anymore. In the last few months, they’d started showing up at safe houses either right after Naia got there or else sneaking in and waiting. At first, that had been something to worry about, but when Naia had dragged themself in one night last December, promptly passing out from blood loss, it had only been because Jo had been waiting that they hadn’t ended up bleeding out.
And it was, maybe, nice. To have someone waiting. To have someone worry who didn’t have the obligation of blood behind it.
The room smells like weed and chocolate, and Naia kind of digs the combination. The high doesn’t really make the ache of bruised knuckles and broken skin go away, but it takes them mentally somewhere where pain doesn’t really matter. Leonard Cohen is singing Tower of Song from their phone, and they’ve shed Spider-man’s mask and clothes, but not yet hidden themselves in their ‘day-self’.
Petting idly over Jo’s back, they can feel them breathe, slow and deep. Weed relaxed Jo really well, and cold made them sleepy to begin with, so it wasn’t exactly a surprise that the little mutant was dozing. Usually prolonged contact with the little blue lizard made Naia squirmy and flighty, but being supremely high at 8AM and recovering from a night of beating a bunch of human traffickers into the ground, they were too tired to protest.
And it was getting easier, maybe. Being close to Jo.
Jo is easily the most attractive person Naia has ever worked with. They knew some people would disagree, but some people were idiots. Jo’s eyes alone were stunning enough to make them, in Naia’s opinion, drop dead gorgeous, but the total sum of parts was just… a lot. Stunning. Arresting. People tended to be put off by mutants who were visibly distinct, but Naia grew up with an extended family of “freaks” and “monsters”. Jo was pretty, there was no way around it.
They were so delicate, next to Naia’s hulking frame. And they were whip-smart, which most people didn’t give them a chance to prove. They’d studied to become a nurse, and while the school had been more than willing to take their money, not a single hospital in the city was willing to hire them. The injustice of it makes Naia mad; Naia’s never been overly burdened with intelligence, but the idea of putting the kind of work Jo had put into learning to help people heal and then be told your appearance wasn’t “conducive to a healing environment” – well, it was enough to make Naia itch for someone to punch.
Cohen gives over to The Cranberries and Jo stirs a little, nuzzling their face against Naia’s collarbone. They run cooler than most people, and Naia runs warmer, so the lips shifting in a sleepy mumble against Naia’s skin are distinct, cool and soft and dry, making Naia’s chest do something funny. They’re wearing the binder and a pair of old basketball shorts, too much skin exposed, and despite the warmth from the propane space heater, Naia shivers, torn between never wanting to move from this spot and deeply needing to wake Jo under some pretense that would put space between them again.
Luce picks that moment to jump onto the back of the couch and meow loudly down at them. Naia shushes at him, but the damage is done; even before Jo moves, Naia can feel the tension, the held breath; startled awake. Not wanting to seem too obvious about how focused they were on Jo, Naia continued petting over the softness of Jo’s shirt, feeling the knob of their spine and, faintly, the impression of the thick scales that flowed down their back.
Then Jo sits up, and Naia awkwardly drops their hands onto their own stomach, the two that have been dangling off the side of the couch flexing with nervous energy. Naia feels a ridiculous urge to push Jo back down, tell them to go back to sleep – they only have until noon to rest here and Naia is tired.
Instead they just stare up at Jo, trying not to stare at the peek of blue tongue drawn over thin lips, trying not to blush when those vibrant eyes focus on their face.
“Cat’s mad,” Jo says, and there’s a very pleasant rasp to their voice this soon after sleep. Naia knows damn well they’re blushing, knows it makes the freckles on their cheeks stand out darker. If Jo notices, they don’t say. “You forget to feed him?”
Naia has to clear their throat, but their voice is passably casual when they say, “He’s just being a brat because he wants cuddles and my lap has been monopolized.”
Something sparks in Jo’s eyes, and it looks like mischief. “My lap now,” they say, shifting to they’re straddling Naia’s waist, elbows resting on Naia’s chest so they can put their chin in their hands and grin down at Naia. For perhaps the first time since they were fifteen or so, Naia is grateful they don’t have a dick, because it would almost certainly be hard, and really, the blushing was bad enough.
“Is there any chocolate left?” Jo asks. They’d grabbed a few packages of discounted Valentine’s chocolate from the drugstore when they’d stopped in for gauze and Bactine. Naia feels a little guilty, shaking their head.
“Ate the last piece a little bit ago,” they say, looking at Luce as he settles into loaf position on the back of the couch. “Got snacky, sorry. I shoulda saved it for you.”
Jo laughs, leaning in a little, so their weight is more focused on Naia’s chest. They don’t weight all that much, but the unexpected pressure still makes Naia part their lips in a shallow gasp, like they expect their air to be cut off. “Don’t be dumb, I bought ‘em for you.”
There’s that blush again. Luce stares back at them and then blinks his big yellow eyes, squeezing them shut and starting to purr.
“Hey,” Jo says brightly, and Naia turns their head to look at them without thinking. Jo’s lips feel even softer against their own than they had against skin, and Naia feels like their heart is struggling to beat suddenly; it’s exploding and it’s standing still, useless either way. They think they should push back – had to have been an accident – and then Jo’s clawed fingers are skating along their scalp, smoothing back behind their ears, holding them.
Naia doesn’t have a whole lot of experience kissing. Hard to date when you’re hiding a whole second set of arms, and half your life. They don’t try to control it at all, but their hands move almost without permission, settling on Jo’s back and along their side. Not keeping them, just resting, and it all feels… nice. Good.
After a moment, Jo ducks away, hands tucked under them as they lay back down. They tuck their face against Naia’s neck, and Naia can feel their smile. “Was that okay,” they ask, and Naia nods just a little, not wanting to do anything that would make Jo move. “Good,” Jo says, settling in. “I was starting to think it was never gonna happen.”
And there’s probably a lot that could be said to that, probably a whole conversation that needs to happen, but Naia, well, Naia is tired. So Naia leaves their hands to stroke idly over the soft, thin material of Jo’s shirt, and they close their eyes, and they drift.
They fall asleep to the sound of Luce purring, loud and rusty, drowning out the soft music still playing on their phone. They fall asleep warm, and they fall asleep cared for, and they fall asleep a little more in love than they know how to deal with.
