(Spent a long time learning how, I just had to adjust things a little.)
[ Sam takes it for the compliment it is, and can't help but be just a little bit pleased by that respect. It's... nice, to feel that someone he cares about as much as he does Shiro thinks well of him.
But that's not the reason he's here, and Sam falls quiet as Shiro talks. There's the obvious sense through their mental link that he's listening, attention focused on what Shiro's saying - and even as he takes in the memories they call up, he lets them back go.
He breathes in, breathes out, and sinks more of himself into his connection with Shiro. Until he might as well be right there with him, hands laced together and his forehead pressed against Shiro's. Keeping him grounded, an anchor to remind him to stay here and not go back, even as he pulls up those memories. ]
[How can he think anything but good of Sam? Really? After everything they've been through so far? How can he think anything less?]
[It is obvious. And it's helpful. In its own way -- because wow, he doesn't want to talk about this. He hasn't ever wanted to talk about this. The others just stopped asking. Stopped probing. He was grateful for that too. But he wants the dreams to stop. Wants the flashes to stop.]
[Just focus on the other presence. Just talk.]
(I don't remember how they... took us. I just remember being there. Trying to get them to let us go. But they just dragged us all off.)
[There hadn't even been a chance to fight back. They'd all been overpowered. Caught off-guard. And the next thing he knew were prison walls and terror.]
[And then nothing. Just a blank.]
(... it must have been a long time. Before they split us all up for good. But I don't know. There's nothing there until... they took us to the arena.)
[His mental voice falters, there. The memory harsh and clear, sharp as broken glass against the blank space before it.]
[ Well. Most days Sam thinks pretty good of himself, too, even if there are still some off days, but that's not the point. The point is that Shiro thinks well of him. That a guy he cares about cares about him back.
Sometimes he's a little bit sappy.
He stays focused on Shiro as he keeps talking, breathing nice and even and letting it flow over their link to remind Shiro to do the same. Breathe, you're safe, I'm here even as he takes everything that Shiro's giving him and holds it tight, trying to take some of the weight, just a little.
When Shiro falters, Sam doesn't press right away. Instead there's the sensation of him squeezing Shiro's hands. ]
(Can you tell me five things you see in your room?)
[Right. Right, he remembers now. That strategy. He has to breathe first. Follow through with that first instruction.]
[If nothing else, he's good at following orders.]
(Sam, I... don't think there's... five things in my room.) [A sense of thready, weak humor. It's supposed to be funny. Not turning down or ignoring the suggestion. Just -- Shiro's other coping strategy.]
(Me. The... bed. Armor. Clothes. Old... coffee mug.) [Damn he needs to clean that up.]
[ It's supposed to be funny, and it is. Fortunately, he and Sam have very similar senses of humor, and he gives a quiet chuckle across the mental link.
Yeah, yeah, all right, funny guy. Sam's pretty sure that means it worked to get Shiro out of his head and back in the now, to break the chain before he could get completely caught up in the memory.
He squeezes Shiro's hands again, gently bringing them back to Shiro's re-telling. ]
[He'll take that. The short little laugh. It's a nice break. A nice change from everything else pounding through his head. Like the ache at the back of his skull. Lack of sleep, probably.]
[Right. Retelling. He can do this. He's got this. For a moment, he thinks he does. Then Sam has to go and ask that.]
[What happened in the arena?]
[Cold settles hard in his chest. There's only one fight he remembers with any bit of clarity, but even that... What happened in the arena? What did happen? How many people did he What happened in the arena? What happened in the arena?]
[C H A M P I O N]
[Whispers coiling out from the ache in his head. His arm hurts. His hands flinch away from where Sam is holding them, in their minds. Before he can blurt out two words:]
[ With what he's already gotten from Shiro, Sam's expecting something really not good. It's not so much that he braces himself for it, because that'd imply that he feels like he needs to tense up to prepare, it's just... he takes in a few breaths, lets them out, reminds himself how to stay calm and let everything wash over him.
And it's a damn good thing, because he can feel the cold sweeping over Shiro, the uncertainty of what he doesn't know and the fear of what he does, of what that might mean-
Champion echoes in Sam's head, flashes of a fight and the whispers of people he doesn't know, and he reminds himself again to breath, lets them fade below the mist of his clouds.
Sam doesn't chase after Shiro when he pulls away. Instead he adjusts, focusing on their connection so he can curl around Shiro's mind, like a blanket settling over his shoulders - and if there's a brush of feathers, well, they're damn near always present in Sam's mental link. ]
(You survived. You did the only thing you could to protect your friend, to stay alive.)
[He's so tired of this. So... damn... tired of this. Of being afraid to talk about what he does remember, because it leads somewhere awful. Because he gets stuck. He can't pull himself out in time, before it's too late.]
[It doesn't help when he hears that word again. Echoed through Sam's mind and his own. Flickering and whispering. Until it feels like he's drowning in it. Like he can't breathe.]
[Even the reassurance feels dull. It feels flat. Like there are so many problems with what Sam is saying, he doesn't even know where to start.]
[ Sam breathes, in to the count of four, hold for seven, out to the count of eight. He counts in his head - and Shiro's - as he does, letting the steady sound of his breathing echo across to prompt Shiro to breathe with him.
At least in his own mind, he can do something about this, and he lets the memories that Shiro'd shared with him and the words that try to stick fade, watching them sink below the clouds in his mind. ]
(Four things you can hear?)
[ Physically, he means, not in Shiro's head, but he's already made that distinction before and with their connection, he doesn't have to say if for the idea to make it across. ]
[Breathing. Breathe. Focus. Be focused and breathe. Just like they practiced. Anything to keep himself from losing it. From losing himself in his own brain and letting everything come out. Sliding backward.]
[So all the training he'd done would be in vain.]
[A shuddering feeling. But focus. Thinking. Listening.]
[ Breathe, just breathe. Shiro can do this, Sam knows it.
Sam believes in him, completely. Not exactly a pressure that he has to do it, just a faith that he can. Maybe not now, maybe not every time, because no one's perfect, but he can. ]
(There's always something. The sound of your breathing, the rustle of sheets as you move, the hum of machinery. But maybe that's part of the problem, maybe you need white noise or music.)
[ Or someone else with him, but while Sam'd be more than happy to offer, he doesn't want Shiro to take it the wrong way. ]
[All things he'd heard. In the castle, or Concordia. Or before all of this even began. Back on Earth. There were always other people you could hear. It always made you feel less alone in the world. On the planet.]
[In the stars.]
(This... make me one of those people who sleep with the TV on?)
[ There's a low chuckle across the mental link, a hum of acknowledgement. The sounds of life, the reminder that you weren't alone. There'd been times when it made Sam feel more alone than ever, wondering what was wrong with him that he couldn't be part of it like he used to, but more often than not it'd been a comfort. ]
(Nothing wrong with that, sweetheart. I used to be one of them.) [ There's the tiniest hesitation, then, ] (These days I can't sleep if I'm alone.)
[There's no jealousy there. No judgment. Just curiosity. Because part of him wants an affirmative, just to know he's really, honestly, not alone here. Not alone with this weird tic.]
[But... then again... didn't Lance always sleep with headphones on, in the Castle? Maybe he hadn't ever been the only one.]
(That's why, yeah. Used to be I'd keep going until I was so tired I had no choice but to sleep, and I could hope I wouldn't dream that night. Then I learned better ways - did some deep breathing and progressive muscle relaxation before, practiced a set of grounding tools so much that it was habit when I woke up from one, had music playing. Talked about shit. I had a routine that was pretty damn adaptable. I'll get back to it, just... right now I feel better having someone watching my back.)
[ Something that started before coming to the Station, back in the Raft, but it's only been worse since arriving here.
And that's a little more than he's shared with anyone else - a lot more - but it's Shiro. Sam trusts him, and he wants Shiro to know that he's not alone. ]
(Wow. No wonder you're always on my case about sleeping.)
[There's that flat humor again. He hadn't known. Maybe he'd have been able to listen better, to accept the advice better. There's a weird sense of guilt, flickering around his thoughts, even if he's not sure why exactly he feels it.]
(... do you need it to be the same person, always?)
(Sleep's important, man, everything's a million times harder when you're running on empty. And you're a million times crankier.)
[ He teases back, picking up on that humor with ease. It's something they both have in common, and it's easier than trying to figure out what that guilt he can feel is for, or even if it's Shiro's or his own. But he sobers a little at Shiro's question. ]
(No. But there ain't a lot of people here I trust like that.) [ Four, pretty much, just Clint, Steve, Bucky, and Shiro himself. But Sam doesn't have to say that for the understanding of who they are to make it across their mental link, and he hopes he knows where Shiro'd been going with that. ] (And I'd mean it in a different way, with you.)
(Yeah. I know. Or you just fall asleep wherever you sit down next.)
[Said from experience. Multiple experiences. But then they're moving on, changing topics slightly. Which is fine with him. Easier than getting too into certain issues. Or certain moments of falling asleep, or slipping out of time, mentally.]
(You'd trust me differently in your ... room... with you, at night?)
[There's a slip there, a mental image of more than just a room. A bed. The thought of room-bed-in-bed trailing through the words. He'd... been offering that. Both of those things. Combined together.]
[ There's a brief, low chuckle - because yeah, Sam's had that experience, too. It's not a fun one, and it's another reason why Sam's been so invested in getting Shiro to sleep more. ]
(I'm saying sleeping with you'd mean something different to me than it does with Clint. I'd want something different.) [ There's a pause, then, because he's learned to be as clear as possible with Shiro, he keeps going. ] (Not necessarily sex, all right, I know we're taking this slow. But not just watching each other's backs so we can sleep better.)
[ Not that it's just that with Clint any more, either, considering how much he and Clint are in each other's heads, but it's still very different than how it'd be with Shiro. ]
[Hey, at least they can both relate to it. As unfortunate as it may be. It's not something he'd really wish on anyone.]
[It takes him a while to answer. If only because he's doing his best to figure out how to answer. What he wants to say. He's got to make this right, doesn't he? Say the right thing. Say it so what he actually means comes out, instead of anything else.]
(All right, so part of me is a little flattered, I'll admit, that when I ask about "something different" your first thought is... well. That.)
[Honesty and all.]
(Can I ask what you'd want? So I've got a better idea.) [He hesitates again, thinking his words through again.] (I guess I'm asking all this so we're on the same page if we do this.)
[He's got no frame of reference, honestly. Not for this. And that much is open to Sam. A blank space, filled up only with whatever the media wanted people to think of as "normal".]
[ There's a lot of somewhat unfortunate things that they can both relate to, it seems. It's not something that Sam'd wish on anyone, either, but he'd be lying if he said it wasn't something that'd drawn him to Shiro from the very beginning.
It still helps knowing you're not alone.
Sam's patient, especially after dropping something like that, and he waits, giving Shiro time to pull together his thoughts. Then there's the impression of a soft smile and a flare of warmth. ]
(You're an attractive guy, all right, and I'm pretty into you.)
[ But then it's Sam's turn to pause to think. For a moment he's stuck on the rush of affection for Shiro, on being able to do this with him - communicate so damn openly.
In the end, what he's thinking slips out before he can figure out how to put it to words. The impression of sharing a bed, legs tangled together and wrapped in each other's arms, waking up in the morning to trade sleepy kisses, falling asleep doing the same. ]
[Well suddenly it's a little warm in the room, and he's dragging his hands through his hair. At a loss for what to do with them. His face is bright red -- he doesn't need a mirror to know that. The whole flare of affection the warmth, all of it is a little overwhelming.]
[Maybe not entirely in a bad way, though.]
(Yeah I uh. I gathered that.)
[He gathered a lot of things, really. A lot of things... he more or less forgot existed. Breathe. Focus. Because no part of that impression is bad. Quite the opposite, really. It's so good it's hard to focus on entirely.]
[But nothing coming off him right now is negative. Maybe overwhelmed. Uncertain how to answer besides a yes.]
(I... really don't think I can say no, and still be honest with you.)
[ If nothing else, at least Sam has successfully distracted him from his nightmare. This is the good kind of overwhelming, this is the kind of overwhelming that Sam'd love to see on Shiro damn near all the time.
He takes in Shiro's reaction across their connection, smiling a little. His first thought is then don't say no, but he doesn't quite give it voice. ]
(You feel like talking a little more about your nightmare, or are you done for the night?)
[ There's no sense of judging, just the feeling that whatever Shiro's answer is, Sam'll be happy with it. Because really, either way, Sam's gonna be with him - he'll just come to Shiro if he wants to talk about the arena more, otherwise he'll get Shiro to come to him. ]
[See, the problem with being in each others' heads so much, being so close, so often... you learn to read between the mental lines a little. Sam's been open with him on this. He needs to be, too.]
[It's not a bad idea. Far from it. He's flustered, and still learning how to reel it in enough to deal with it, process it. Talk through it without stammering.]
[Like now, when he has to think that one over. He's awake -- very awake. There feels like there's some distance between his mind and the dreams. Does he want to dive back in there now? When there's half a chance of getting rest? Of any kind?]
(I'm good. For now. I... mean that. Maybe tomorrow we can get back to it.)
[ That's... not necessarily a bad thing. Or at least, Sam doesn't think it's as much of one as he might before, now that it generally only happens with the people he's close to. With the ones that he's okay with knowing more about him than others.
He can feel how flustered Shiro is, that he's taking time to think it over - and he waits, patient as ever.
Well. Patient as he mostly is, anyway, somehow when he's actually kissing Shiro he always seems to get carried away.
But he gives Shiro a quiet mental tug at his response. ]
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sizeofyourbaggage) wrote2016-05-22 03:26 pm
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[ Sam takes it for the compliment it is, and can't help but be just a little bit pleased by that respect. It's... nice, to feel that someone he cares about as much as he does Shiro thinks well of him.
But that's not the reason he's here, and Sam falls quiet as Shiro talks. There's the obvious sense through their mental link that he's listening, attention focused on what Shiro's saying - and even as he takes in the memories they call up, he lets them back go.
He breathes in, breathes out, and sinks more of himself into his connection with Shiro. Until he might as well be right there with him, hands laced together and his forehead pressed against Shiro's. Keeping him grounded, an anchor to remind him to stay here and not go back, even as he pulls up those memories. ]
( Keep going, sweetheart, you're doing good. )
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[It is obvious. And it's helpful. In its own way -- because wow, he doesn't want to talk about this. He hasn't ever wanted to talk about this. The others just stopped asking. Stopped probing. He was grateful for that too. But he wants the dreams to stop. Wants the flashes to stop.]
[Just focus on the other presence. Just talk.]
(I don't remember how they... took us. I just remember being there. Trying to get them to let us go. But they just dragged us all off.)
[There hadn't even been a chance to fight back. They'd all been overpowered. Caught off-guard. And the next thing he knew were prison walls and terror.]
[And then nothing. Just a blank.]
(... it must have been a long time. Before they split us all up for good. But I don't know. There's nothing there until... they took us to the arena.)
[His mental voice falters, there. The memory harsh and clear, sharp as broken glass against the blank space before it.]
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Sometimes he's a little bit sappy.
He stays focused on Shiro as he keeps talking, breathing nice and even and letting it flow over their link to remind Shiro to do the same. Breathe, you're safe, I'm here even as he takes everything that Shiro's giving him and holds it tight, trying to take some of the weight, just a little.
When Shiro falters, Sam doesn't press right away. Instead there's the sensation of him squeezing Shiro's hands. ]
( Can you tell me five things you see in your room? )
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[Right. Right, he remembers now. That strategy. He has to breathe first. Follow through with that first instruction.]
[If nothing else, he's good at following orders.]
(Sam, I... don't think there's... five things in my room.) [A sense of thready, weak humor. It's supposed to be funny. Not turning down or ignoring the suggestion. Just -- Shiro's other coping strategy.]
(Me. The... bed. Armor. Clothes. Old... coffee mug.) [Damn he needs to clean that up.]
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Yeah, yeah, all right, funny guy. Sam's pretty sure that means it worked to get Shiro out of his head and back in the now, to break the chain before he could get completely caught up in the memory.
He squeezes Shiro's hands again, gently bringing them back to Shiro's re-telling. ]
( What happened in the arena? )
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[Right. Retelling. He can do this. He's got this. For a moment, he thinks he does. Then Sam has to go and ask that.]
[What happened in the arena?]
[Cold settles hard in his chest. There's only one fight he remembers with any bit of clarity, but even that... What happened in the arena? What did happen? How many people did he What happened in the arena? What happened in the arena?]
[C H A M P I O N]
[Whispers coiling out from the ache in his head. His arm hurts. His hands flinch away from where Sam is holding them, in their minds. Before he can blurt out two words:]
(I won.)
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And it's a damn good thing, because he can feel the cold sweeping over Shiro, the uncertainty of what he doesn't know and the fear of what he does, of what that might mean-
Champion echoes in Sam's head, flashes of a fight and the whispers of people he doesn't know, and he reminds himself again to breath, lets them fade below the mist of his clouds.
Sam doesn't chase after Shiro when he pulls away. Instead he adjusts, focusing on their connection so he can curl around Shiro's mind, like a blanket settling over his shoulders - and if there's a brush of feathers, well, they're damn near always present in Sam's mental link. ]
( You survived. You did the only thing you could to protect your friend, to stay alive. )
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[It doesn't help when he hears that word again. Echoed through Sam's mind and his own. Flickering and whispering. Until it feels like he's drowning in it. Like he can't breathe.]
[Even the reassurance feels dull. It feels flat. Like there are so many problems with what Sam is saying, he doesn't even know where to start.]
(I don't -- I don't know if he -- if --)
[If he was even still alive.]
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At least in his own mind, he can do something about this, and he lets the memories that Shiro'd shared with him and the words that try to stick fade, watching them sink below the clouds in his mind. ]
( Four things you can hear? )
[ Physically, he means, not in Shiro's head, but he's already made that distinction before and with their connection, he doesn't have to say if for the idea to make it across. ]
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[So all the training he'd done would be in vain.]
[A shuddering feeling. But focus. Thinking. Listening.]
(I... can't hear anything. It's quiet...)
[In the room. It's too quiet in the room.]
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Sam believes in him, completely. Not exactly a pressure that he has to do it, just a faith that he can. Maybe not now, maybe not every time, because no one's perfect, but he can. ]
( There's always something. The sound of your breathing, the rustle of sheets as you move, the hum of machinery. But maybe that's part of the problem, maybe you need white noise or music. )
[ Or someone else with him, but while Sam'd be more than happy to offer, he doesn't want Shiro to take it the wrong way. ]
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[All things he'd heard. In the castle, or Concordia. Or before all of this even began. Back on Earth. There were always other people you could hear. It always made you feel less alone in the world. On the planet.]
[In the stars.]
(This... make me one of those people who sleep with the TV on?)
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( Nothing wrong with that, sweetheart. I used to be one of them. ) [ There's the tiniest hesitation, then, ] ( These days I can't sleep if I'm alone. )
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[There's no jealousy there. No judgment. Just curiosity. Because part of him wants an affirmative, just to know he's really, honestly, not alone here. Not alone with this weird tic.]
[But... then again... didn't Lance always sleep with headphones on, in the Castle? Maybe he hadn't ever been the only one.]
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[ Something that started before coming to the Station, back in the Raft, but it's only been worse since arriving here.
And that's a little more than he's shared with anyone else - a lot more - but it's Shiro. Sam trusts him, and he wants Shiro to know that he's not alone. ]
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[There's that flat humor again. He hadn't known. Maybe he'd have been able to listen better, to accept the advice better. There's a weird sense of guilt, flickering around his thoughts, even if he's not sure why exactly he feels it.]
(... do you need it to be the same person, always?)
[Maybe you can see where he's going here, Sam.]
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[ He teases back, picking up on that humor with ease. It's something they both have in common, and it's easier than trying to figure out what that guilt he can feel is for, or even if it's Shiro's or his own. But he sobers a little at Shiro's question. ]
( No. But there ain't a lot of people here I trust like that. ) [ Four, pretty much, just Clint, Steve, Bucky, and Shiro himself. But Sam doesn't have to say that for the understanding of who they are to make it across their mental link, and he hopes he knows where Shiro'd been going with that. ] ( And I'd mean it in a different way, with you. )
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[Said from experience. Multiple experiences. But then they're moving on, changing topics slightly. Which is fine with him. Easier than getting too into certain issues. Or certain moments of falling asleep, or slipping out of time, mentally.]
(You'd trust me differently in your ... room... with you, at night?)
[There's a slip there, a mental image of more than just a room. A bed. The thought of room-bed-in-bed trailing through the words. He'd... been offering that. Both of those things. Combined together.]
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( I'm saying sleeping with you'd mean something different to me than it does with Clint. I'd want something different. ) [ There's a pause, then, because he's learned to be as clear as possible with Shiro, he keeps going. ] ( Not necessarily sex, all right, I know we're taking this slow. But not just watching each other's backs so we can sleep better. )
[ Not that it's just that with Clint any more, either, considering how much he and Clint are in each other's heads, but it's still very different than how it'd be with Shiro. ]
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[It takes him a while to answer. If only because he's doing his best to figure out how to answer. What he wants to say. He's got to make this right, doesn't he? Say the right thing. Say it so what he actually means comes out, instead of anything else.]
(All right, so part of me is a little flattered, I'll admit, that when I ask about "something different" your first thought is... well. That.)
[Honesty and all.]
(Can I ask what you'd want? So I've got a better idea.) [He hesitates again, thinking his words through again.] (I guess I'm asking all this so we're on the same page if we do this.)
[He's got no frame of reference, honestly. Not for this. And that much is open to Sam. A blank space, filled up only with whatever the media wanted people to think of as "normal".]
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It still helps knowing you're not alone.
Sam's patient, especially after dropping something like that, and he waits, giving Shiro time to pull together his thoughts. Then there's the impression of a soft smile and a flare of warmth. ]
( You're an attractive guy, all right, and I'm pretty into you. )
[ But then it's Sam's turn to pause to think. For a moment he's stuck on the rush of affection for Shiro, on being able to do this with him - communicate so damn openly.
In the end, what he's thinking slips out before he can figure out how to put it to words. The impression of sharing a bed, legs tangled together and wrapped in each other's arms, waking up in the morning to trade sleepy kisses, falling asleep doing the same. ]
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[Maybe not entirely in a bad way, though.]
(Yeah I uh. I gathered that.)
[He gathered a lot of things, really. A lot of things... he more or less forgot existed. Breathe. Focus. Because no part of that impression is bad. Quite the opposite, really. It's so good it's hard to focus on entirely.]
[But nothing coming off him right now is negative. Maybe overwhelmed. Uncertain how to answer besides a yes.]
(I... really don't think I can say no, and still be honest with you.)
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He takes in Shiro's reaction across their connection, smiling a little. His first thought is then don't say no, but he doesn't quite give it voice. ]
( You feel like talking a little more about your nightmare, or are you done for the night? )
[ There's no sense of judging, just the feeling that whatever Shiro's answer is, Sam'll be happy with it. Because really, either way, Sam's gonna be with him - he'll just come to Shiro if he wants to talk about the arena more, otherwise he'll get Shiro to come to him. ]
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[See, the problem with being in each others' heads so much, being so close, so often... you learn to read between the mental lines a little. Sam's been open with him on this. He needs to be, too.]
[It's not a bad idea. Far from it. He's flustered, and still learning how to reel it in enough to deal with it, process it. Talk through it without stammering.]
[Like now, when he has to think that one over. He's awake -- very awake. There feels like there's some distance between his mind and the dreams. Does he want to dive back in there now? When there's half a chance of getting rest? Of any kind?]
(I'm good. For now. I... mean that. Maybe tomorrow we can get back to it.)
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He can feel how flustered Shiro is, that he's taking time to think it over - and he waits, patient as ever.
Well. Patient as he mostly is, anyway, somehow when he's actually kissing Shiro he always seems to get carried away.
But he gives Shiro a quiet mental tug at his response. ]
( Come here? We can try to get some sleep. )
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