Jedao's heart squeezes in fear; he'd like to say it was at the prospect of disentangling something so painful, but if he's honest with himself, it's simple projected terror at the idea of confronting Quentin at all.
"Okay," he breathes carefully. "I don't want to hear it. But I still think I need to. And if I can't say anything that isn't defending him, then I won't talk, I'll just be here with you and listen."
He squeezes the back of Fives' neck again, then tugs a little, urging him to lay his head down in Jedao's lap. "Just - as long as you don't grab me," he murmurs, almost sotto voce. That'd probably be alright. Right now, when Fives needs him so badly, it's easier to ignore the ghosts of all his old bad decisions.
Fives hesitates for a moment, making himself take slow, deep breaths, then shifts himself carefully down until his head is resting in Jedao's lap, his arms both curled in front of himself so Jedao doesn't have to worry that he might reach for him. "I won't," he promises quietly. He's worried even doing this much, and he's honest enough to admit to himself it's at least as much because he knows how much it will hurt if Jedao panics and pulls away from him as it is not wanting to hurt Jedao in the first place.
He lays very still for a few seconds, then reaches down to pull his communicator out of his jeans pocket. He takes a few more seconds scrolling through it, then holds it up so Jedao can take it rather than trying to actively pass it to him. It's open to this conversation, and at least it's a starting point.
Jedao sets his forearms on Fives' back as he holds the communicator in his hands, maintaining pressure and contact. He places the conversation on low volume, although of course Fives will hear it again anyway. He clenches he jaw, just - looking at Quentin's face, which still makes his guts writhe like frenzied eels with tangles of horror and longing and self-loathing and confusion. Quentin isn't hear to see him do it, grit his teeth and endure it, so he can, he decides. He just can.
Jedao still winces a little as the conversation goes on, at least as much at Fives' face talking about him as the things Quentin and Fives said to each other.
"He should never have said that to you," Jedao says, low and fierce. He's not shocked that Quentin did, with what Jedao's put them both through, the impossible corner of it, holding on and pushing him away. But Fives doesn't need that now, and it's still an appalling thing to say, thoughtless and spiteful and cruel, worse from someone who knows Fives like Quentin does.
The contact helps, more than almost anything has since this all started. Just feeling Jedao's solidity and warmth. It also makes him feel pathetic, for how badly he needs it and how terrified he is of losing it, but... he can't do anything about that now. Right now he's going to let himself have this, even if it's just for a very little while.
And he's doubly glad he has it as Jedao replays the conversation, as he hears his own anger and confusion and loss and fear, even if almost no one else could catch it... as he hears Quentin's spite and vitriol. He squeezes his eyes shut tight and tries not to let it hurt again. He was stupid. Stupid to think Quentin really meant it. Stupid to think it would matter. Stupid to trust.
It helps at least a little that Jedao doesn't try to defend it, but it also makes him feel even worse for making Jedao see that in Quentin. It makes him wish, even more, that he'd just gone somewhere else. It's too late now, though.
"He wanted to talk. Today," he finally says, rather than responding to what Jedao had said. He wishes he hadn't gone.
He tosses the communicator toward the end of the bed, and lets himself run a hand over Fives' hair, settling again on his neck.
"If he didn't want me to hear it, he shouldn't have said it," Jedao murmurs, in a solid, steady cadence. "I would have found it looking through your comm sooner or later." Of all the people involved, it's not Fives' fault Jedao watched it.
"And he went and made everything worse?" Jedao assumes, albeit more from Fives' current state than a complete lack of faith in Quentin.
He's not even surprised anymore that Jedao seems to know exactly what he was thinking, he does it too often for him to do more than take it in stride. It doesn't make him feel any better about putting him through this, though. Which is why when he answers it's with, "I... maybe? Or... or maybe I did. I don't know."
He tips his head a little, so he can press his face against the top of Jedao's thigh while keeping his hands curled carefully against his chest. "He said he wanted to apologize. And ask me to explain. But-" He draws in a shuddering breath. He's just so kriffing tired and confused. "But he didn't say what for, and then... when he said he should have done it differently and I agreed? He just... wanted me to go."
Was he supposed to disagree and tell him it had been fine? Because it wasn't. Was that even what Quentin was sorry for? Or was it just for giving him the false impression he'd care enough to help him?
Jedao hums, scratches Fives' nape. He has - a lot of theories, but he doesn't always understand Quentin nearly as well as he does Fives, and he doesn't know where the line is between explaining and defending anyway.
"When you agreed to talk to him, what did you want to happen?"
"Not your fault I was stupid and he's an asshole," Fives mutters hoarsely. "Should've known he didn't really mean it." It must have just been something he'd said to make sure Fives wouldn't give him trouble over deciding to stay.
He doesn't say 'both,' but he means it. He doesn't say that Quentin turns into an absolute prick when he's hurting enough. He doesn't totally mean it as a defense, just as a truth, but -
He can't hold back a short, bitter huff of a laugh at the question. "You watched it," he rasps, and rubs his face against Jedao's leg. He wishes he hadn't had to listen to it again. "And then... he said he'd wanted to ask me about it, but told me not to say anything, and he'd already told me to leave anyway."
He sucks in a shuddering breath. "He can go fuck himself." He won't be stupid enough to trust him again, he shouldn't have been stupid enough to do it the first time.
"You weren't being stupid, darling. I don't think he was just pacifying you, or that meant any of the shit he said, but he was still a complete asshole to say it."
"Not everyone is as gloriously straightforward as you, my darling," Jedao says, and it's his smitten voice, soft and awestruck as ever, making the whole thing into endearment more than argument.
"Don't. Please," he mumbles, and feels almost immediately guilty for saying it. But no matter how much Jedao means it as praise it still feels like justification for Quentin, and he doesn't want to hear it.
"I don't-" He shakes his head a little, rocking it against Jedao's leg. "Nothing. Shouldn't have said anything at all." Because he doesn't feel any better for it, and now he's dumped it all on Jedao as well. He wraps his arms around himself, holding tight to keep from reaching for Jedao... he misses being held so much.
"Okay. I want to try something. Would it be okay if I tied your wrists, and then curled up on top of you?"
Irony of ironies, it's thanks to Quentin and the soft fox afternoon that Jedao got the kick in the pants he needed to start figuring out ways to hack his fucking problem.
"Please," he answers instantly, almost choking on the single word, and has to make himself stay still to keep from immediately throwing himself into the search for rope.
He sits up carefully, arms still wrapped around himself, and only when Jedao has moved away does he shift to strip his shirt off. Then he stretches out obediently on his back, arms stretched out above his head and, after one more long look at Jedao, closes his eyes.
"Maybe... maybe it would be better if I laid on my stomach?" he suggests after a moment, his voice desperately steady but almost a whisper. It will be so hard to remember not to hold him this way, he thinks, even with his wrists bound... and harder still to hide the tears he can already feel prickling at the corners of his eyes.
He keeps his eyes closed, keeps very still. "Because even with my wrists tied I could still, uh... still hold you?" he whispers, and then his face scrunches up a little as he thinks it through farther, and there's just the faintest hint of moisture in the corners of his eyes. "Oh... or are you going to tie me to the bed?" he asks, just as quiet. He's not sure how he feels about that, but if it's what Jedao needs he will absolutely do it.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
"Okay," he breathes carefully. "I don't want to hear it. But I still think I need to. And if I can't say anything that isn't defending him, then I won't talk, I'll just be here with you and listen."
He squeezes the back of Fives' neck again, then tugs a little, urging him to lay his head down in Jedao's lap. "Just - as long as you don't grab me," he murmurs, almost sotto voce. That'd probably be alright. Right now, when Fives needs him so badly, it's easier to ignore the ghosts of all his old bad decisions.
no subject
He lays very still for a few seconds, then reaches down to pull his communicator out of his jeans pocket. He takes a few more seconds scrolling through it, then holds it up so Jedao can take it rather than trying to actively pass it to him. It's open to this conversation, and at least it's a starting point.
no subject
Jedao still winces a little as the conversation goes on, at least as much at Fives' face talking about him as the things Quentin and Fives said to each other.
"He should never have said that to you," Jedao says, low and fierce. He's not shocked that Quentin did, with what Jedao's put them both through, the impossible corner of it, holding on and pushing him away. But Fives doesn't need that now, and it's still an appalling thing to say, thoughtless and spiteful and cruel, worse from someone who knows Fives like Quentin does.
no subject
And he's doubly glad he has it as Jedao replays the conversation, as he hears his own anger and confusion and loss and fear, even if almost no one else could catch it... as he hears Quentin's spite and vitriol. He squeezes his eyes shut tight and tries not to let it hurt again. He was stupid. Stupid to think Quentin really meant it. Stupid to think it would matter. Stupid to trust.
It helps at least a little that Jedao doesn't try to defend it, but it also makes him feel even worse for making Jedao see that in Quentin. It makes him wish, even more, that he'd just gone somewhere else. It's too late now, though.
"He wanted to talk. Today," he finally says, rather than responding to what Jedao had said. He wishes he hadn't gone.
no subject
"If he didn't want me to hear it, he shouldn't have said it," Jedao murmurs, in a solid, steady cadence. "I would have found it looking through your comm sooner or later." Of all the people involved, it's not Fives' fault Jedao watched it.
"And he went and made everything worse?" Jedao assumes, albeit more from Fives' current state than a complete lack of faith in Quentin.
no subject
He tips his head a little, so he can press his face against the top of Jedao's thigh while keeping his hands curled carefully against his chest. "He said he wanted to apologize. And ask me to explain. But-" He draws in a shuddering breath. He's just so kriffing tired and confused. "But he didn't say what for, and then... when he said he should have done it differently and I agreed? He just... wanted me to go."
Was he supposed to disagree and tell him it had been fine? Because it wasn't. Was that even what Quentin was sorry for? Or was it just for giving him the false impression he'd care enough to help him?
no subject
"When you agreed to talk to him, what did you want to happen?"
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
He doesn't say 'both,' but he means it. He doesn't say that Quentin turns into an absolute prick when he's hurting enough. He doesn't totally mean it as a defense, just as a truth, but -
"Didn't mean what, cyar'ika?"
no subject
"That he wanted to be family. Shouldn've known he was just trying to pacify me."
no subject
no subject
He sucks in a shuddering breath. "He can go fuck himself." He won't be stupid enough to trust him again, he shouldn't have been stupid enough to do it the first time.
no subject
He scratches his fingers through Fives' hair.
"You weren't being stupid, darling. I don't think he was just pacifying you, or that meant any of the shit he said, but he was still a complete asshole to say it."
no subject
no subject
"What else do you want to tell me?"
no subject
"I don't-" He shakes his head a little, rocking it against Jedao's leg. "Nothing. Shouldn't have said anything at all." Because he doesn't feel any better for it, and now he's dumped it all on Jedao as well. He wraps his arms around himself, holding tight to keep from reaching for Jedao... he misses being held so much.
no subject
Irony of ironies, it's thanks to Quentin and the soft fox afternoon that Jedao got the kick in the pants he needed to start figuring out ways to hack his fucking problem.
no subject
no subject
no subject
"Maybe... maybe it would be better if I laid on my stomach?" he suggests after a moment, his voice desperately steady but almost a whisper. It will be so hard to remember not to hold him this way, he thinks, even with his wrists bound... and harder still to hide the tears he can already feel prickling at the corners of his eyes.
no subject
no subject
no subject
He really wants Fives' chest, though. Wants to curl up and hear his heart beat, hold him as much as he cans stand.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)