He blinks his eyes open, and for a moment his vision is watery and out of focus. He's so kriffing tired of crying, and yet... there's something cleansing and almost soothing about it. As though it somehow helps to settle the emotions that cause it in the first place.
"It's not that I don't trust you. It's never been that I don't trust you," It's just as fierce and quiet as the last, and he tips his head back and just a little to the side so he can brush a quick kiss to Jedao's cheek. "I promise it's never been that." It won't ever be that.
He sniffs a little and takes a steadier breath, bites his lip for a moment until he's sure the waterworks have stopped, then smiles up at Jedao. "We're lucky to have each other. You've worked so hard for me, for us, you deserve for me to do the same."
Jedao tucks his face against Fives' neck for a few breaths, just presses and shudders.
"I know it's not about me."
But it's still - his promises meaning so little, against the weight of Fives' lifelong self-disregard. No matter how reasonable he tells himself that is.
He closes his eyes for a moment, and breathes through the sharp rush of pain at Jedao's reaction, at the sudden realization that... that this hurts him. Has hurt him.
"I think," he finally whispers, without opening his eyes. "... I think that maybe it needs to be about you, for me." He blinks his eyes open again, and they're damp with fresh tears. "That I need to remember that... I owe you this. No matter what my first instinct is, that-"
He frowns and bites his lip for a moment, waiting for his voice to steady again. "That I owe it to you to remember that it's... it's my damage, and it isn't fair to put it on you. That... you will never be one of the people who told us we mattered, then spent us like nothing more than ammunition."
Jedao nuzzles him gently, one hand clinging tightly to the opposite shoulder.
"I don't give a fuck about fair. I'll carry anything you need me to." He presses a dry, faint kiss to Fives' jawline. "But I wish you could believe. For you."
That just has him sniffling again, ridiculous though it feels. "But I care, Jedao. I... I don't want to be one more thing that hurts you. Not in any way I can help. You've been hurt too kriffing much."
He presses his lips to Jedao's temple, and he's so fucking glad for his closeness right now. "I want to be... to be somewhere you come for peace. And rest. I don't want you to have to carry any more pain for me." And maybe that's what it will take, to always remember how his inability to accept his own value in anyone else's eyes hurts Jedao. Maybe that will finally give him the strength to get over it... and stop hurting himself as well. "Not if there's anything I can do to stop it.
"... and if I make myself learn to believe for you, then someday I'll believe for me, right?" he asks quietly, lips twitching into a faint, hopeful smile. "But for right now, you've fought so many of your own demons for me, I can do this for... us.
"Okay," Jedao whispers, then takes a deep, shuddering breath.
"If I slept that long it must be almost dinner." He still, desperately, doesn't want to sit in a room full of people, but - he feels actually hungry. He sits up drops one last kiss on Fives' mouth, wipes his cheek with the palm of Jedao's glove before he starts unwinding the ropes.
Fives sighs and stretches a little, wiggling his fingers and confirming that the circulation is still fine. "Yeah, I have to get going soon so I can open the kitchen for Credence." If he wasn't needed to do that he wouldn't feel bad about missing the start of dinner service, given how little help Credence actually needs. (No help, Credence needs no help at all.)
He smiles into the kiss, and it widens at Jedao's request. "Of course. Given Credence doesn't actually need me there you won't even have to wait until the shift is over." And if Jedao's actually asking for food he's not going to risk missing the window of opportunity.
"Mhmmm." He doesn't bother arguing, just smiles up at him as he finishes untying his arms. "I think me being there just irks him half the time," he admits. "But... it's amazing to watch, even if I've rarely felt so useless in my life."
He won't move until Jedao has released him and then had a chance to move away.
"Yessir," he murmurs, smiling up at him. Once he's moved away Fives sits up and finds his shirt to pull back on.
"I think there's going to be some kind of curried rice tonight, but I'll bring some of whatever looks good," he promises as he heads for the door. Good to Jedao, even if it does still boggle Fives that he doesn't like sweets. At least he likes spicy things, so it's not a complete travesty.
Jedao has a weird pang of something that's half homesickness and half something else, remembering the time he whined about all the bread and Holden made him curry.
"Yeah. That'd be nice."
And it is nice, later, sitting cross legged on the floor together, eating curried rice.
After, Jedao suggests sleeping on Nico's version of the Roci - their old room, with two bunks, close without either cuddling or forcing Fives to sleep on the floor. He cries again that night, but after Fives manages to wake him up, and they have tea, Jedao tries going back to sleep and gets a few more hours.
It's familiar and comfortable, this way, lying beneath Jedao and listening to him breathe. Even if it's no easier listening to Jedao cry, or waking him up. But he'd been happy in the Roci, even with all they'd been struggling with at the time, and he can go up to the little kitchen and make them breakfast, the pancakes Holden had taught him, plus some eggs and bacon. It makes leaving to go about his duties afterwards a little easier too.
The ease doesn't last, though, not after his conversation with Credence, and Fives shows back up in the cabin they share a good hour before his maintenance shift should end. He's haggard and miserable and confused looking, and he just glances around to make sure Jedao's not on the bed before padding over to it and collapsing face down.
"I think I fucked up," he mumbles into the bedding.
Jedao is sitting cross-legged on the floor, repeatedly shuffling and then dealing face-up spreads from a new card deck, learning the feel of every edge under his fingers. The suits are different - leaves and clouds and stones, metals and torches. He glances up.
Fives shoves a hand into his jeans pocket without otherwise moving and fishes out his communicator, which he lobs in Jedao's direction with uncanny accuracy given he hasn't looked at him other than a quick glance when he came in. It lands about six inches to the left of his knee, open to this conversation.
Jedao gets his cards in one hand fast enough to snatch it out of the air, and listens.
"I think I'd characterize it more as a mutual stumble," he says gently, and tosses his own communicator land next to Fives' head, open to a screen full of text.
Fives reaches blindly for where he heard it land, then rolls just enough to be able to read it, his back to Jedao... and curls slowly in on himself, knees pulling up and head tucking down as he sucks in gasping breaths.
"It's alright, love," Jedao murmurs, letting his footsteps make sound as he pads over, sits on the bed so that it dips, settles one hand on Fives' shoulder.
"You really don't speak the same language. But you both want the same things, in the end."
"He doesn't even try to understand, that what's normal for him, is-" He shakes his head and tucks into himself a little farther, to help him resist the urge to roll over and wrap himself around Jedao instead. "I don't expect him to understand being a soldier, or... or slavery."
"What's normal for him is being alone," Jedao says softly. "And powerful and free and dead certain that it's wrong and selfish and pathetic to ask anyone else to deal with his feelings."
Jedao tucks himself into the little bunk behind Fives, and it makes his heart lurch into his throat a little bit, but he presses his nose into the nape of his neck and reaches around to squeeze Fives' wrist in one hand.
"He never had brothers. He asked you to leave because he's certain you'd never forgive him, and he was going to cry." Jedao swallows, breathes warm against the back of Fives' neck. "What do you expect, darling?"
Fives holds very very still as Jedao presses up against him, then shivers out a long, slow breath at the feel of Jedao's nose pressed warm at the nape of his neck.
"I didn't mean that," he rasps after a moment. "I meant... kriffing soul truncation and... and weird magic jags of fury. I wouldn't expect him to be able to handle charging into an enemy bombardment, but he thinks magical horrors are just another kriffing day, and doesn't even think about how they're fucking terrifying to normal people." He hadn't even paused as far as Fives can tell, hadn't even cared to try and understand that he'd been so frightened he was just short of paralyzed with it. That he'd just wanted someone he could rely on to help him through it.
Which isn't what Jedao had asked, but it's what his mind is spinning around right now. "I didn't say he couldn't be family because he didn't do what I wanted, I said... I said it didn't seem like he wanted to be family, because he didn't care about how... how lost... and frightened... and alone I was."
"I know, darling," Jedao murmurs, half-hugs him with the arm draped around his waist. "Didn't you two have a talk a while ago about how you're both terrible at reading people under the best circumstances?"
Which these most certainly were not, on just about every possible level.
"I tried to tell him," he mumbles, and scrubs his face against his arm. He'd tried to ask for help, because Jedao had convinced him he could. That it's all right to lean on people, that he doesn't have to try and navigate through everything alone.
"What... what should I have said to make him understand?" Because he wants to know. He wants to think that if Quentin had understood how hard it had been to ask, and how desperately he wanted someone to help him bear the burden of worry and fear, that he would have come.
"I don't know," Jedao admits. "Both of you were already hurt before you even started, because of me. And didn't know how much the other was. And it's not like I'm very good at it either. But maybe, just, I'm scared. Instead of you're not doing enough."
It sounds so simple, but the thought of it is terrifying. If he wants Quentin to be family, though, then maybe he has to trust him with his fear, not just hope he understands it without having to speak.
"Maybe," he agrees quietly. "I... I thought he knew what was going on," he admits quietly. "That you'd been talking to him. I didn't realize he was all alone."
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"It's not that I don't trust you. It's never been that I don't trust you," It's just as fierce and quiet as the last, and he tips his head back and just a little to the side so he can brush a quick kiss to Jedao's cheek. "I promise it's never been that." It won't ever be that.
He sniffs a little and takes a steadier breath, bites his lip for a moment until he's sure the waterworks have stopped, then smiles up at Jedao. "We're lucky to have each other. You've worked so hard for me, for us, you deserve for me to do the same."
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"I know it's not about me."
But it's still - his promises meaning so little, against the weight of Fives' lifelong self-disregard. No matter how reasonable he tells himself that is.
"Thank you." A raw whisper.
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"I think," he finally whispers, without opening his eyes. "... I think that maybe it needs to be about you, for me." He blinks his eyes open again, and they're damp with fresh tears. "That I need to remember that... I owe you this. No matter what my first instinct is, that-"
He frowns and bites his lip for a moment, waiting for his voice to steady again. "That I owe it to you to remember that it's... it's my damage, and it isn't fair to put it on you. That... you will never be one of the people who told us we mattered, then spent us like nothing more than ammunition."
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"I don't give a fuck about fair. I'll carry anything you need me to." He presses a dry, faint kiss to Fives' jawline. "But I wish you could believe. For you."
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He presses his lips to Jedao's temple, and he's so fucking glad for his closeness right now. "I want to be... to be somewhere you come for peace. And rest. I don't want you to have to carry any more pain for me." And maybe that's what it will take, to always remember how his inability to accept his own value in anyone else's eyes hurts Jedao. Maybe that will finally give him the strength to get over it... and stop hurting himself as well. "Not if there's anything I can do to stop it.
"... and if I make myself learn to believe for you, then someday I'll believe for me, right?" he asks quietly, lips twitching into a faint, hopeful smile. "But for right now, you've fought so many of your own demons for me, I can do this for... us.
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"If I slept that long it must be almost dinner." He still, desperately, doesn't want to sit in a room full of people, but - he feels actually hungry. He sits up drops one last kiss on Fives' mouth, wipes his cheek with the palm of Jedao's glove before he starts unwinding the ropes.
"Bring me something?"
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Fives sighs and stretches a little, wiggling his fingers and confirming that the circulation is still fine. "Yeah, I have to get going soon so I can open the kitchen for Credence." If he wasn't needed to do that he wouldn't feel bad about missing the start of dinner service, given how little help Credence actually needs. (No help, Credence needs no help at all.)
He smiles into the kiss, and it widens at Jedao's request. "Of course. Given Credence doesn't actually need me there you won't even have to wait until the shift is over." And if Jedao's actually asking for food he's not going to risk missing the window of opportunity.
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He won't move until Jedao has released him and then had a chance to move away.
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"Go on, cyar'ika."
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"I think there's going to be some kind of curried rice tonight, but I'll bring some of whatever looks good," he promises as he heads for the door. Good to Jedao, even if it does still boggle Fives that he doesn't like sweets. At least he likes spicy things, so it's not a complete travesty.
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"Yeah. That'd be nice."
And it is nice, later, sitting cross legged on the floor together, eating curried rice.
After, Jedao suggests sleeping on Nico's version of the Roci - their old room, with two bunks, close without either cuddling or forcing Fives to sleep on the floor. He cries again that night, but after Fives manages to wake him up, and they have tea, Jedao tries going back to sleep and gets a few more hours.
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The ease doesn't last, though, not after his conversation with Credence, and Fives shows back up in the cabin they share a good hour before his maintenance shift should end. He's haggard and miserable and confused looking, and he just glances around to make sure Jedao's not on the bed before padding over to it and collapsing face down.
"I think I fucked up," he mumbles into the bedding.
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"Why do you say that, cyar'ika?"
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"I think I'd characterize it more as a mutual stumble," he says gently, and tosses his own communicator land next to Fives' head, open to a screen full of text.
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"You really don't speak the same language. But you both want the same things, in the end."
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Jedao tucks himself into the little bunk behind Fives, and it makes his heart lurch into his throat a little bit, but he presses his nose into the nape of his neck and reaches around to squeeze Fives' wrist in one hand.
"He never had brothers. He asked you to leave because he's certain you'd never forgive him, and he was going to cry." Jedao swallows, breathes warm against the back of Fives' neck. "What do you expect, darling?"
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"I didn't mean that," he rasps after a moment. "I meant... kriffing soul truncation and... and weird magic jags of fury. I wouldn't expect him to be able to handle charging into an enemy bombardment, but he thinks magical horrors are just another kriffing day, and doesn't even think about how they're fucking terrifying to normal people." He hadn't even paused as far as Fives can tell, hadn't even cared to try and understand that he'd been so frightened he was just short of paralyzed with it. That he'd just wanted someone he could rely on to help him through it.
Which isn't what Jedao had asked, but it's what his mind is spinning around right now. "I didn't say he couldn't be family because he didn't do what I wanted, I said... I said it didn't seem like he wanted to be family, because he didn't care about how... how lost... and frightened... and alone I was."
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Which these most certainly were not, on just about every possible level.
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"What... what should I have said to make him understand?" Because he wants to know. He wants to think that if Quentin had understood how hard it had been to ask, and how desperately he wanted someone to help him bear the burden of worry and fear, that he would have come.
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"Maybe," he agrees quietly. "I... I thought he knew what was going on," he admits quietly. "That you'd been talking to him. I didn't realize he was all alone."
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