Velocity

velocity. he/they. thrity-five. tier five. points: 800

[vclocity]

prcdigalsc-n​:

He leans back into Ian’s touch, when he rolls back over, trying to show him that he’s not asking for space, that he wants him close, wants to know he’s there. 

      “That night, when you came over to ask me about the vote,” he starts, thinking back to it. It feels like a lifetime ago, now, even though it was only a little less than a year. And he hadn’t let himself process, in all that time, how much it had hurt, that their last night together before Ian disappeared had felt like some kind of promise of normal, though he hardly blames Ian for that. No, the blame for that lies on White’s shoulders alone. “You told me the group was thinking of asking Shadow or Black to be the person to step up, and I told you couldn’t commit to a maybe from someone I thought would say no.” 

It had been a horrifyingly easy decision to make, in retrospect, even though he knew Ian would be disappointed about it. He hadn’t meant it to be a permanent no. He just didn’t want to get involved when there was still a chance things might not work out, or a chance they mind wind up with a worse replacement taking over for White. He didn’t want… well, what had happened to Ian and the others, pretty much, to happen to him. And unlike plenty of the others who seem to only just be realizing that they can’t trust White as far as they can throw her, he’s always known that her good will was utterly conditional. 

But he’d thought he’d have a chance to change his mind, somewhere along the way. When Ian and Doppelgänger and the others had gotten further along in their plan. He’d wanted to say as much, to explain why he had to say no when he did, but Ian had dropped the conversation as quickly as he’d brought it up. Clearly disappointed, but clearly trying his best not to make Jase feel bad about that. And everything else Jase wishes he’d had a chance to say, all of it has been sitting with him ever since, with nowhere to put it. 

     “Why not you?” he asks, after a moment, finally asking the question he’s been wondering for so long. “Why not put your own name forward? At least half the Manor would have rallied behind you. I would have, in a heartbeat.”

It isn’t an accusation. It isn’t Ian’s fault, that this went wrong. It’s just a curiosity. Something about him, some piece of him, that Jase feels like he needs to understand. Ian seemed built for leadership, seemed to thrive with it. And he’d already been playing mother hen to all of the younger villains who still lived in the Manor when he was there. There’s no one Jase would follow to the ends of the earth, or anything dramatic like that; he’s been unfairly shoehorned by life into being a pragmatist rather than a romantic. He didn’t follow Ian, before. But if he could have imagined the power vacuum left in White’s place filled with Ian, there would have been no question. 

He nestles back into Jase’s personal space once he sees that his presence is not just welcomed, but wanted as well. He could easily fall asleep in that moment, he thinks briefly, before Jase speaks, enjoying the fact that after months of not being able to sleep next to one another, now they can as much as they like again. But he knows he needs to focus his attention on Jase’s words instead, especially as it seems that whatever he wants to ask has been weighing on him for some time now. 

Once his question is posed, he finds its one of the numerous questions he’d been agonizing over in his head these last few months, when he was trying to figure out if there was anything he could have done to prevent this whole mess from starting in the first place. 

“I threw my name out after Shadow said no,” he starts quietly with a sigh, resting his head against Jase’s again as he does, “but Morrigan and Doppelganger both felt like I was too controversial of a choice. That picking me would only widen the discontent that was already brewing between the older villains outside the manor, and the younger ones who still lived in it.” 

Out of all of the villains in the Collective, he was among the few with prior experience running a group, what with his years at the head of the Teen Terrors. And even though hearing that he wouldn’t be welcomed by the Collective as a whole was a tough pill to swallow, he understood it to a certain degree. He could easily get the votes of the Catalysts of the Collective, but choosing him would automatically piss off the Dulces of the group.

“I knew deep down you’d say no, when I asked before,” he adds, “which is why I didn’t press the topic any further- and my own confidence both in myself and the group, was beginning to falter anyway.” 

[vclocity]

location: dulce’s place, week following attack 

status: closed to @jetxstreamx​

It’d been a week since he first found himself living under a new kind of protection. After spending nearly the last year in one kind of a hideout or another, he’d oddly gotten used to being holed up somewhere, with little much to do but try to keep himself busy and not think too much on what all was going on in the outside world. He still felt like a caged animal, but this time around the walls around him didn’t feel quite as oppressive and cold. He could suddenly be able to see his loved ones again, which certainly helped, even though his hands were still bound in how much he could help them. But it was better than nothing, he reminds himself, especially after how close he got to not being able to see any of them at all. 

That afternoon, he’s chosen to occupy his time outside, after spotting Dr. Green pull into the driveway, likely there to have another session with Judgement’s former bodyguard. He’s learned out of experience now, that unless he wanted to get pulled into helping her out with whatever kind of test she needed to run, that it was best to make his presence sparse when she came calling. Overload was a better assistant anyway, he figured. 

After making his second loop around the property, he’s just about to sneak inside to see if the coast was clear, before he sees the familiar purple hues of one of Jet’s portals open up, just feet away from the home’s front door. He’d only seen Jet sparingly since the Tower attack, and even though they patched up the largest hole in their friendship, back during their run in at the abandoned amusement park, the unshakeable bond the two once had still was on unsteady ground. 

“You running another ferrying service today, or is it just you this time?” He asks, once he spots the villain’s face, only looking back at his portal briefly to see if someone else was about to pop out next. 

[vclocity]

prcdigalsc-n​:

Reptilian’s family, he thinks, the second Ian says it, and it makes perfect sense. That he’d do what it took to protect them, that his stakes were different than some of the others, because of them. He forgets, sometimes, that the rest of them aren’t all like him—that things like secret identities exist for a reason other than bullshit marketing, that not everyone’s identity is as obvious and public as Jase’s is. That some of them still have families, who they care about and don’t want to see hurt. That some of them have lives, people who care about them beyond the walls of the Manor. Whether Reptilian’s family being at risk meant he was playing it safe by sticking with Judgement, or meant he really was pissed off enough at White to want to go along with it, Jase can hardly blame him for that.

He can hardly blame any of them, honestly. 

     “Fuck,” he says, quietly, rolling over onto his back and looking up at the ceiling through the dark. He almost wishes he’d had a chance to talk to Reptilian, but in the midst of everything else there hadn’t been time. And he’s not sure it would have mattered: Dulce’s been more than generous, housing Ian and Overload—and, apparently, suddenly a murder cyborg and Doppelgänger too. He wouldn’t have been able to keep Reptilian’s family safe on top of everything else. 

And in all of this, he’s never once felt guilty for saying no, when Ian had asked him if he’d commit to the vote of no confidence against White. He still doesn’t. Him being pulled out of the Manor and into Judgement’s scheme wouldn’t have changed anything for anyone, not for the better, and he still thinks that even if White hadn’t found out what was happening, however she had, that it wouldn’t have worked without a strong enough leader ready to step up and replace her, he still feels a small swell of regret. It wouldn’t have done anything other than put him in danger, but he’s struck again with the same thought he had, when Ian had asked: that if the name they’d put forward then to replace White had been Ian’s, things might not have gone this way. 

     "Can I ask you something?” he asks, and then, turning back towards him— “We can save this for the morning, if you’d rather go back to sleep…” 

Jase shifts, moving to face the ceiling rather than him, and he takes the move as a message to give Jase a moment to himself. He tucks the hand that’d been in Jase’s hair under his own side, while the other moves to rest his head against. He waits then, patiently, for Jase to give him his next message whether it be he just needed to be left alone for a while longer or to return the contact.

He’d be fine either way, there had been a night or two before, years ago,  where they did share a bed but made no physical contact. Where his presence was wanted, but not necessarily his touch. And so, he learned fairly early on not to take it personally, that sometimes even the smallest touch was just too much, and it had nothing to do with him.

When Jase turns back towards him, he first reads what his body was telling him, before extending his hand back out, his fingertips just lightly ghost his arm- his question, and once he gets his response he lets the rest of his hand drop.

“You can ask me anything,” he replies, meaning every word of it. He had shared things with Jase that he’d never told another soul. Jase knew every detail (be it good or ugly) about him, so he didn’t find himself all that nervous over the question, despite its vague nature.

.

[vclocity]

prcdigalsc-n​:

It feels so easy, to listen to him talk about his fight against Queen Cobra as if today hadn’t been the weirdest fucking day of their lives, as if they hadn’t been fighting the zombies of former heroes and villains, trying from opposite sides of a battle Jase still isn’t fully certain he understands to rescue and protect the Guardians of all people. It feels easy, to kiss him again when he leans close, easy to answer him, when he asks. 

     “Fucking Hot Shot,” he says, leaning his head against Ian’s. “I’m so mad about it, Ian, I could scream. Of all the stupid villains to get stuck against, I almost go down taking on the one with the cartoon mustache and mad scientist goggles.”

He lets out a laugh, because he can, because it feels easier to laugh now than it had in months, and he’s missed it, missed these little moments of feeling at ease, of getting to exist somewhere other than the space between feeling hollow and feeling panicked. But even as he says it, it’s not entirely true. Hot Shot hadn’t been the problem: the Youth Brigade had helped, sure, but none of the zombies they’d gone up against had felt like a real threat, and none of them had been the reason he almost gave himself hypothermia trying to freeze a parking garage filled with water. 

     “No, uh— Reptilian was there,” he says, after a moment, voice sobering slightly as he does. He’s glad Ian is away from all of it—he had never doubted for a second whether or not he could trust Ian, regardless of what Judgement’s plan was. But Ian wasn’t the only one of their former allies that had been in the Tower today, and Reptilian hadn’t been in a position for Jase to talk to him about why he was going along with this plan. He was someone Jase liked, someone he respected, but from everything Ian has said, Jase isn’t sure what to think anymore. “Black Paladin—he’s new, I guess, I’d never met him before today—knocked him out and…. I don’t know. I just couldn’t leave him there to drown. Couldn’t haul him out of there with the flooding. So I panicked, I guess. Jet got him out, eventually, but not before I’d spent a long fucking time trying to find some other way to do it.” 

He really shouldn’t be surprised just how quickly they fall into this easy back and forth with each other, even after the hellish night the both of them have had. Everything that happened back at the Tower suddenly felt like weeks ago, instead of only a couple short hours, as he relaxes further into the mattress, his hand drifting up to twirl lightly in Jase’s red locks. 

“Hot Shot?” He repeats with a chuckle, which soon evolves into a full laugh that shakes his shoulders as he recalls the image of the villain in question. “I’m pretty sure I had one of those rubber action figures of him back when I was like seven. You know, the kind you could bend the arms and legs whichever way, so you could fight with them. Oh, what was that catchphrase of his....” he trails off for a moment as he raddles his brain, fully immersing himself in this little trip down memory lane. His mouth curves into a wide grin when he finally remembers it, and chuckles once more against Jase before trying his best Hot Shot impression, “Is it getting hot in here or is it just me?” 

The camp of the 80s villain and hero scene was one he often felt nostalgia for, although he wondered just what it was really like for all of them behind the pomp. Did they have to deal with the same shit as the villains did now? Did Hot Shot, or Hydromancer, ever have to hide out because the Collective leader at the time wasn’t all they were cracked up to be? Or did they ever find themself waist deep in some kind of mindboggling war, that threatened to end everything they had once held so dearly? 

His mood soon sobers at the thought, and Jase’s seems to as well at the same time, although he soon realizes for a different but related purpose. Reptilian... he could understand why Jase was as conflicted as he was, as he retells his experience with their former friend that night. Jase wasn’t asking him directly just what was the story with Reptilian, and how loyal he was to Hourglass and Judgement, but he could see the question in his gaze as he tried to come to grips with the seeming betrayal. “I’m glad you did, and Jet was there to help too,” he says quietly after a moment before leaning in to give him another kiss before going on. 

“When White sold his identity, it put his wife and daughters at risk,”  he adds, brows knitting together as he tires to best string together what he knew of Reptilian’s circumstances. “They were put into hiding separately though. As far as I know, he hasn’t seen them since we all got pulled from our homes. But I don’t know if that’s because he’s too afraid to further risk their safety by seeing them, or because he doesn’t know where they are. He never talked all that much to anyone when we were all hiding out together.” 

.

[vclocity]

prcdigalsc-n​:

It isn’t until he hears Ian’s voice, heavy with sleep but so wonderfully, distinctively his, down to the stupid joke, that he realizes just how much he’s been waiting for it, how much he wants to hear it. Despite the need for sleep, despite that he can see, in the dim light, that Ian’s even more beat up than he is. He leans into the kiss, once Ian initiates it, then wraps an arm around him carefully, trying to be cautious of any of the spaces where he might be bruised or banged up from the fight.

     “I’m… good,” he answers, letting out a breath of a laugh as he says it, as he realizes that it’s true. He’s tired, he’s a little sore, but he feels better than he has in… in months. In almost a year. Not just physically, but everything. “I mean, I probably almost died of hypothermia, but Daydreamer found Nightingale somewhere in the Tower, somehow.”

He brings his free hand up, freshly healed, still scarred and rough but without the frostbitten look he’s gotten so used to, without Nightingale around to help heal them. Without the soreness and ache he grew up with, the pain he was almost twenty before he realized he didn’t have to live with, that he’d gotten so used to all over again since Nightingale had been captured. Wiggles his fingers for Ian to see, for a moment, before dropping his hand to Ian’s face, running his fingers carefully along his jaw.

     “And you’re here. So, you know, everything’s coming up Jase right now.” 

It’s a strange feeling. And, of course, they’re still in the middle of it. Judgement and Hourglass’s plans seem far from over, and he knows there are plenty from among their number who are hurting far worse than he is tonight because of it. But he feels a little bit like the fog that he’d been in for months is starting to clear.

     “What about you?” 

He feels easily the happiest he’s been in quite some time, just seeing how happy Jase seems. These last few months have been difficult for both of them, for varying different reasons, including the separation they’d faced from one another, but in the span of one night it seems as though the problems that had been plaguing them both were now far behind them. Which he knows isn’t quiet the truth, considering just where they were. They weren’t back home in his bed in the manor, which had likely been given away to someone else since his departure, nor were they back at Jase’s place. They were at Dulce’s, and he was still in hiding, albeit this hideout was far better than any of the several he’d been in before. 

Tilting his head, he plants a kiss on the inside of Jase’s wrist, where his hand still rested at his cheek. There were decisions he was going to have to think about soon, when it came to what would be his next best course of action, because obviously he couldn’t hide away in Dulce’s forever. For now though, he just wanted to live in this quiet little moment a bit longer, and give the both of them the pleasant peace they’d been needing for some time. 

“I’m good,” he says with a grin, pointedly repeating Jase’s own answer. “I fought with one of my dad’s old archenemies from the 80′s, so that was kind of a mindfuck,” he chuckles quietly. “She had like these razor sharp fingernails that were venomous- Queen Cobra, that was her name.” The damn heroine nearly gave him a set of chemical burns to match his dad’s, but luckily Nightingale managed to fix those for him too, along with the cottonmouth he was suffering through. 

Leaning forward, he brushes his lips against Jase’s again, finding it’d already been too long since the last time he’d done so. “How about you?” He mumbles quietly against his lips, “did you at least risk hypothermia because of someone cool? ...No pun intended.” 

.

[vclocity]

prcdigalsc-n​:

     a few hours after the Tower attack, Dulce’s home, @vclocity​

It’s almost dawn, by the time he makes it to Dulce’s, no longer at risk of dying of hypothermia in the middle of the night. The tiredness he’s feeling now, he feels pretty sure, is just regular exhaustion, rather than the cold-induced fatigue he’d been fighting off after finally getting out of the flooded parking garage of the Tower. He slips inside, trying to be quiet, assuming that most of them are getting some well-deserved sleep—though Overload is still awake, sitting in a room off the front hallway with a mug of tea or coffee or something, and gets up for long enough to give him a painfully tight hug and tell him what room Ian’s in.

The lights are off, in the room, when he cracks the door open quietly, slipping his shoes off and stepping inside. He’s pretty sure Ian is asleep, back turned to the door, and he feels the last little bit of stress dissipate from his body at the sight of him, here and safe, alive and within reach. Because twenty four hours ago, pretty much everyone Jase cared about had been just out of reach, and in the past twelve hours, he feels like he’s gotten them all back, safe and sound, in one fell swoop.

He tries his best not to wake him, as he pulls the blankets back so he can get into bed, but he can feel Ian stir, slightly, at the shift in weight as he sits down, can hear his slow, regular breathing shift a little, in the silence of the room.

       “Shh, it’s just me,” he whispers, reaching out a hand to put on his shoulder, to steady him as he starts to turn over. “It’s just me, it’s okay, go back to sleep.”

Because if they start talking now, he’s pretty sure neither of them will get any sleep. There’s too much to talk about, too much to say. And, tired as he is, he’d gladly stay up, but he’s sure Ian is as exhausted as he is, if not worse.

He isn’t able to hang around the meet-up point for long, before he’s whisked away to Dulce’s. After helping Dark Wing carry one of the undead villains back to the abandoned apartment building, he barely had enough time just to take stock of who else had made it back, before he’s ferried off to his next location. Ordinarily he would have been the one calling the shots, and staying until the very last person exited that Tower and everyone was taken care of. But that job isn’t his anymore, he was no longer the den mother he once was, even though the worrying never went away. 

Catalyst had fucking done it though- that was all that mattered. She’d went above and beyond any expectations he ever had for her, managing to pull in villains to their cause that even he would have struggled in obtaining. The manor would be fine in her hands, and had been clearly, ever since his own role changed so abruptly all those months ago. 

When he gets to Dulce’s, he tries to settle his still frayed nerves and spiraling worry about those he hadn’t seen at the meet-up point, by stripping off the clothes he’d worn that night, and showering off the hours worth of blood and sweat that were caked to him. After that, he’s left to the agonizing waiting game, as he watches the burner phone he’d been using all this time, jumping at every text he receives about who had come back and the state they were in. The two names he’d been holding his breath the most for, don’t come until late into the night, the pair likely one of the last remaining villains out of the Tower before the attack had come to its violent end. 

He manages to finally fall asleep some time after he’s finally learned that Jet and Jase had gotten out safely. Even though he more than anything wanted to race back to the apartment building to greet them, he knows everyone involved was safer with him staying put- and so he does. And after months of being separated from everyone else, its oddly easy to drift asleep, knowing at the very least they all were safe now to some extent. 

He’s not sure how much time passes between when he first drifts asleep to when he stirs awake, but finds himself not caring in the slightest considering whose voice soon accompanies the shift in the mattress. 

“Hm, damn...” he mumbles groggily, as his hand finds Jase’s where he’d rested it on his shoulder, giving it a small squeeze before rolling over, “I was really hoping you were that bodyguard of Judgement’s that Dulce brought back.” 

Once his eyes meets Jase’s, he can’t help but grin through his sleep derived haze, before leaning in to press a kiss against his lips. There’s so much he could say to him in that moment, even laying there he feels the rush of emotions threaten to burst out of him, at the idea that he was fucking free now, and they were free to do this- and just be them for longer than a few hours or a night. 

But that can wait til later, he thinks, as he snuggles up against him, being careful not to hit one of the several bruises he’d earned that night from the half dozen fights he wound up entangled in. 

“How are you feeling?” He asks, his eyes slipping closed as he rubs his hand slowly across Jase’s back.