[ Jaime just snorts in response. ] Okay, okay. I'll be quick. See you soon.
[ He's not lying, though he doesn't rush his way through it too much either; he does need groceries, after all, and Ruka will just tease him for being overeager. She's not wrong either. It's not long before she receives a text. ]
[ He's right, she would absolutely tease him. Instead, overeager can probably lobbed at Ruka, this time: it's not even ten minutes later that she pulls up in front of his new address, much too quick for having gotten here from home. Was she, in fact, just waiting around Heropa until his schedule cleared up to her satisfaction? Yes. Yes she was.
But never mind that now. She rings the front doorbell, like a civilized person, and waits. When he finally opens the door, she looks... well, like she usually does coming over, riding jacket and helmet still on, red gloves; there's a slightly-larger-than-standard shopping tote hanging off of one of her arms. ]
[ By now, the two of them are something, though Jaime doesn't know what it is. No, scratch that. He knows exactly what it is for him. But he doesn't know what it is for her yet, and he's trying to take it slow. He can go slow. He's good at slow!
But still, the lopsided grin he gives her is a little different than the ones he'd given her before. It's one she's been seeing more and more often, though. ]
[ It's... different. Things are different. It's nothing she's willing to put words to, yet, and sometimes it feels like if she spends too much time thinking about it, she'll jinx the whole thing, but... it's something.
That smile is something.
She crosses the threshold, setting the bag to the side while she gets in order: jacket off, helmet off, loose pigtails wound back up into their usual buns, shoes off. As she goes through the process, she continues: ] If I'd been in a hurry, I would have gotten here before you. Obviously.
Obviously, [ Jaime echoes, raising his brows at her in a way that means you're not fooling anyone, but he doesn't see any reason to call her out too much. That's always been her job, after all. ]
I'm just reading too much into things, right? [ It's funny. He's not sure where they're at, and it's not comfortable, but it's not the same as before either. Obviously. The discomfort's gone - he's just still trying to feel out where they're at, what he's allowed to do. ]
C'mon, let's go sit. And you can say hello to the dogs. Bet you can hear BB scratching at the door already.
Mmmm... maybe. I couldn't say. [ She's not doing a good job of hiding her smile, mouth scrunched but cheeks rounded, gaze bright when she looks his way — a tease, in good humor. She's in a good mood, rare as those are, but she's still as evasive as ever. For how often and how easy it seems to her to pin down the edges of everyone else's actions and motives, she keeps edging away from the same treatment in return. Even for something as flagrantly apparent as "arrived faster than expected."
As Jaime heads into the house, she follows, holding the bag's handles with both hands folded neatly behind her back. It's her first time in the new place, but it is... pretty much the same as the old place, if one forgives the fresher paint on the walls. There's a little bit of different placement for some of the furniture and some of the little homey touches, but much of it is still very clearly Jaime's. Still. It must feel different, to be displaced even this small a distance from your home of nearly five years. ]
They haven't been getting into trouble, have they?
[ Jaime had already been in a good mood, considering, but he's always been the sort of person to feed off of other people's moods; it's hard not to smile right back at her. She's not fooling him for a second, but he'll let her enjoy the game while it lasts. It's not as though it's not fun for him too. ]
This little stinker rolled his way into a bath yesterday. He was about as happy about that as I was. [ He picks up BB at that, looking him right into his dopey eyes, then turns him around to hold him out towards Ruka. He licks her nose. He's always reliable for that sort of thing. ] Good idea, little guy. [ Jaime laughs and tucks BB closer into his body, giving Ruka a kiss on the cheek too before they sit down, because he's allowed to do that sort of thing now.
Welcome to cheese, Ruka. Remember: you signed up for this. ]
And you both survived? [ It's a little airier than the other teases; when he pulls back far enough to see her face again, her nose is scrunched up and her cheeks flustered pink. Still smiling, too, but going to sit gives her an excuse to pivot away from the direct assault of his bright expression. It's been a few weeks, now, but it's done nothing to dim the newness of it. Every little piece of affection is a burst of surprise, and no amount of rationalizing or reminding herself how things have changed ever seems enough to prepare her for the reality of it. It's not a bad thing, but there's no amount of playing cool that can hide how much she gets swept up and off-guard.
She sets the bag down on the couch, the paper bottom crinkling at the weight of its contents, and sits beside it. When she turns back towards Jaime — posture polite, with her back straight and her knees locked together in a prim slant, but with one socked foot folded over the other, toes curled — it's with arms outstretched, hands making a beckoning motion.
[ He's grinning at her too. God, this is stupid. They're stupid. This is the sort of thing that he'd look out from the outside and think both I'm very happy for you and I don't have time for that sort of thing, but look at them now, smiling about nothing in particular. Another time, it'd be enough to make him feel a little guilty for it, finding what happiness he can, but... heck, life is short. If this is what's making him happy - and making her happy from the looks of it - then why not? Who's it hurting?
He's not so comfortable that he takes the obvious bait, though. Not yet. So BB is dumped into Ruka's arms, all bright eyes and wagging tail and lolling tongue. ]
[ He's all yours, Jaime says, and the easiest tease to shoot back catches in her throat; it hangs there, thought unspoken. She takes the dog. In playful exaggeration of Serious Intent, Ruka sets BB partially in her lap, balancing him upright on his hind legs while holding his paws, bending them gently for "examination." A shift, and poor, beleaguered BB is put flat on his back while she fusses with his ears, and rolls him from one side to the other as she "works." He's suffering so much, Jaime. Look at him. His soul is tormented. Never has one dog endured so much.
The exam ceases with a little appraising hum. ] Passable. [ She lifts BB back up and plants one quick kiss to the top of his head, then promptly releases him back to the floor. Of course, with something as high energy as a practical puppy in her arms, the near-methodical reservation of her own movements only becomes more apparent. Each little half-roll was calibrated, the scratches and strokes measured, even the smooch a deliberate choice.
So, too, when she turns back to Jaime: she doesn't spring into action with his same careless speed of impulse, but with the apparent ease of something done before, or whose cost has already been paid. Ruka takes both of Jaime's hands and, as she'd done with BB, she turns them both this way and that, as though checking for damage. Through her gloves she can feel the heat of his palms; her thumbs sweep out from the center, over the heel, and back. ]
Your turn, [ she murmurs, voice already dropping back—too quiet, too low, too thin for too little breath—as she trades a hand holding his to a hand at his cheek, his jaw. Just enough to keep him in place when she presses a kiss to his forehead.
[ Jaime flushes a little. It's funny - he loathes attention. Everyone knows that. They can feel it in his stuttered speeches to the press and in the way he flies away from them given the slightest opportunity, how lost for words he gets when confronted with people who know him for good or bad reasons in the public and his extreme reluctance to take on anything even resembling a leadership role. He's been dragged into celebrity and heroism kicking and screaming and a part of him has never managed to move on from that. Frankly, he doesn't think he's ever going to move on from that. He's just not made for it.
But it's not that he loathes attention. It's that he loathes attention when he's looked at for leadership for hard times, or when the full weight of the public eye is on him. When it comes to stuff like this, in private moments, the attention coming from someone he adores, treating him with this sort of tenderness, he soaks it up like a regular Booster Gold. Any day where her attention is focused on him on this is a good day. ] Is that so? [ He says, trying to play it off. He does so poorly. He leans in low enough so that when she places a hand on his jaw, he lets some invisible force guide him so he's glancing up at her. ]
[ Oh. Oh, this is... more than she was expecting. There's a thrum to her hold on his hand, a thoughtless little jump to her pulse that she can't control; she lets go. As much as you want, as much as you're willing to give, they'd talked about it, and they meant it, sure, but it's different to see how soft it makes his expression, how attentive. He spends a lot of time in his own head — she does too, though not in the same way — and it reflects in his face, in his moods. The way it sometimes seems like he fades into the background, drifting through a room half-awake, or how much more present he is when he's upset, or when she is. He's here, now.
Her one hand stays at his jaw; the other brushes the loose bangs out of his eyes. Her throat is too dry for the playful teasing back — no passable, no well, I've hardly checked enough to tell, right? Cleverness is discarded quickly. ]
Yeah, [ is all she can manage instead, a little rasped, and it feels dangerous to sit this close and talk this quiet, and it feels like a mercy that she's still wearing gloves. Not much of one, though.
[ Jaime has no idea what's going on through her mind. All he knows is that her hands are on him and she's looking at him and there's no place he'd rather be. Other people might think that he wants some big party, or to be the centre of attention, or for someone to spring some big, wonderful thing on him. And that would be fun. And he'd enjoy it.
He prefers this, though, this feeling of her here with him, for him. There's no disasters. They're not talking about some horrible thing that's happened, or struggling with their inner demons. It's everything that he'd wanted before he'd confessed, the easiness of knowing you want someone and that you're wanted in return. That's enough impetus for them to be together. He doesn't know how she's feeling now and, for once, he's not trying to figure it out. He's happy to take that quirk of her lip at face value.
Jaime's got roommates. It's probably rude to take up the living room like this. But he can't bring himself to care, so he leans into the kiss, shifting his weight on the couch so he can lean into her proper, bringing one hand up to her cheek as well. ]
If that's what I get for my birthday, I should have it more often, [ he teases, voice low and bright all at the same time. ] You missed a couple, you know.
[ All right, so he's not subtle. But it's his birthday. He gets to be greedy today. ]
[ It's coy, and quiet; his hand is too warm on her face, and she feels it shift placement when she talks. He's sitting so close and there's already enough contact that his roommates could probably be in the room and she wouldn't notice them at all.
This is incredibly dangerous, but she can't find the motivation to care. ]
And how should I make up for — well, how many are you counting?
Edited (JUST FIXING THE ICON SHUT UP) Date: 2019-06-01 04:28 am (UTC)
[ He hasn't been counting the years. He knows she probably has been - she's always had a better head for that sort of thing than him - but this isn't really about the years. It's just about being stupid and greedy and languishing in the moment. He hasn't been able to be stupid and greedy in a long time. He finds that he's thoroughly enjoying it. ]
More of the same works, [ he says, a laugh on his breath, a brightness in his eyes. ] What's the saying? If it ain't broke, don't fix it?
[ Kissing's great. Why did he go for years without kissing again? He can't seem to remember. ]
[ It feels almost like a blessing that her scope of vision is so limited — with his face this close to hers, sure can't quite see his whole expression, but even three-quarters feels like too much. He's so happy, and his mood so bright and so warm. Figuratively and literally, on the last count; she's pretty sure she can feel the heat radiating off his face, even where they aren't touching.
She shifts on the couch; their knees bump. ]
You sure that's enough? [ She speaks quiet; she moves her hand back to comb through his hair, unable to feel the direct texture of it through her gloves, but the pressure alone is nice. ] I didn't bring presents for me, you know.
I said that's enough, not that I wouldn't accept more.
[ Though really, he's pretty sure whatever she has for him can't top this. He's being a big goof, and he knows it. But it's fun. He's happy. He still can't believe he's allowed to have this, in some ways, and that Ruka's right here humouring him. If she's enjoying this half as much as he is -- well, then they're on the right track. ]
If you really wanna move onto the next bit now, I hope you know I'm gonna hold you accountable for the rest of it.
Mmhmm. Though, if we don't stop now, I don't think we will at all.
[ A tease, matter-of-fact — though, in truth, not much of a deterrent on her end. She's reticent on talking about this... whatever this winds up being, hesitant on putting names to it, to inviting observation and scrutiny and the inevitable attention from forces whose attention she does not want, but that's only the words of it. The actions, the physical presence and practical applications, everything making up this kind of attention...
Well. Between the two of them, it wasn't Jaime spending his single years picking up strangers in bars, was it?
Before he has a chance to rebut — or pull her into another kiss they might not get out of — Ruka pivots, pulling her bag off the couch and setting it instead on the floor at her feet. There's a heavy thud when it touches the ground, and she retrieves gifts from it one by one. He'll have to unwrap each one before he gets to the next one, so his poor table is going to be an inevitable graveyard of wrapping papers.
In order: - A set of imported European drinking chocolates — Belgian, Swiss, and Finnish, by the looks of the labels. - A pair of dark leather motorcycle gloves, already fitted (it's easier to get the right size, after all, when she already has all his measurements). Meant to compliment the leather jacket he keeps wearing. - A novelty fridge magnet designed after a sun with rays, wearing sunglasses, but clearly misprinted and malformed, making its face less "cool" and more a comically stupid "I'm melting from my own heat, but It's Fine." It just looked so dumb. She had to. - A proper bolo tie, traditionally made, the leather cord fixed with a round, carved silver medallion with a turquoise stone set in the center. Only held up close is the carving detail on the gem obvious — a stone scarab, in the Egyptian style.
There's one last present, but instead of handing it over directly, Ruka holds it in her lap — a larger, but thin, rectangular box. Her fingers run over the edge of it, clearly hesitating to pass it over. ]
This one... um. I meant to give this to you a while ago, but it never felt... like the right time. It still doesn't. It's not finished, either, but it's not supposed to be. It's not really from... me, either, so... you, uh, you might want to open it later.
[ All of this, and this is where she gets nervous? ]
I can think of worse things, [ Jaime teases right back, but he lets her retreat, and leans back a little himself, self-consciously smoothing down his hair. He doesn't actually mind. They've got time. Maybe not forever, but today. At least that's the way he's trying to think about it.
And that's when the gift comes out. Or, rather, when the gifts come out, and they just don't stop coming. He stares a little, clearly gobsmacked. He'd expected something, of course, but this? This is so much. It'd be a lot from anyone, but it's a lot from Ruka too, who tends to put a lot of effort into these things, for which things that other people take for granted are more difficult for her.
Didn't they say they were going to take things slow? ]
Ruka, this is too much!
[ Happily that's not this is too much and I'm uncomfortable or this is too much and I'm trying to figure out how the heck I'm going to return it or you shouldn't have gotten these for me. It's I have no idea how else to express how much I know you put into this. The drinking chocolates will go quickly, he knows. The gloves will be worn to death and, truthfully, there's a part of him that's oddly pleased that he's got a pair from her, knowing how much he associates gloves in general with Ruka. They're not her trademark out of fashion alone, but they're her trademark nonetheless. The magnet gets a laugh out of him, because of course it does. And the bolo tie... well. It seems like it's time for him to figure out how to wear one.
He looks up at her after he's through, a little overwhelmed, but grateful too. She sure knows how to make a guy feel special. ]
Thank you! I love them.
[ Well, he's always been one to say what's on his mind. He reaches out to accept the box - with a little murmur of more? - and transfers it to his own lap. ]
... go ahead. I think if I minded that much, I would have mailed it separate.
[ She folds her hands atop her knees, trying to refrain from the instinct to take it back, or to make an excuse and leave before he opens it. It's nothing bad, and she knows Jaime well enough to know the kind of reaction he will have. It's nothing he's told her outright; perhaps part of it is nothing he'd intended her to notice, but they're part of what makes him who he is.
Jaime is, if nothing else, sentimental. He cherishes the little things, and holds onto his mementos for as long as he can, no matter how other people might look at them. Bottle caps, photographs — she already knows that the chocolate tins will either have their labels saved, or at least one will be reused as a planter or a cup for pens. Too much and too many have been taken from him, over the years here; it's possible too much and too many is what he'd lost, before he ever came to this world. He'll hold tight to every little good thing he can.
The present in his lap weighs a couple pounds; the wrapping, like all the rest, is neat, and it undoes easily. A plain gift box, and thin tissue, and beneath all that is a book. Not a regular book, published and printed, like a novel or anything. It's tall, and wide, and thick, the cover an unmarked blue with a material that yields, ever-so-slightly, to the touch.
A scrapbook.
For the first couple of pages, it's straightforward: newspaper scans, photo print-offs of television clips, screenshots of old bwitter article-links, all of this or that heroic deed by the Blue Beetle. Evacuating a burning building too dangerous to enter; cars and people stranded after accidents, retrieved in time for medical care; the thwarting of robberies, assaults; the mundane retrieval of cats from trees, reuniting kids and their misplaced dogs, misplaced parents; the hauling to shore of damaged boats. All usual stuff, but what's interspersed with these little objective accounts of his deeds that is what matters.
Letters. Blog posts. Drawings. Both my daughters were in that crash. I thank God every day that you were there, and I was sure we weren't going to make it, but he made sure we were okay, and Thank you for saving my mommy, and dozens more. Typed, hand-written, some address directly to the Blue Beetle, some to a nebulous third-party audience. Page after page, story after story, comes with something like it. Sometimes they come with photographs — people he's rescued in the months or years later. There's six straight pages dedicated to simple before-and-after pictures of kids and their cats, kids and their dogs, and those kids older, taller, some now in their teens, showing off their still-beloved pets. There's graduation pictures — for high school, for college, for a few parents and grandparents that have managed to go back. Wedding pictures. Family portraits. Snapshots of average, ordinary life.
Since then, I finished school.
Since that day, I could start a new life. Thank you for giving me the chance.
We decided we didn't want to wait any more after that. We got married!!!
I was there to see my granddaughter's birthday. Now I'll get to see many more :)
After that, I met my best friend. We're opening a shop together after we're done with college.
Since then, we found out we're expecting. It's a boy! We're thinking of naming him Jaime ♥
Pages, and pages, and pages. Things he's done in the past year; things he's done in his first, and everywhere between. But even for as many full pages as there are, it's not even half, not even a quarter, maybe not even a tenth of the good deeds the Blue Beetle has done here. Not even a tenth of the impact he's had. And these are just some of the people he's helped, and only ones he's helped directly - between him and Khaji, they'll recognize most of them.
The book ends with about thirty blank pages — unfinished. Impossible to be finished. ]
[ Jaime's not sure what he's expecting that she's so nervous about. Maybe it's something she worked on? She's a pretty artsy person. He's still gotta check out her games. Maybe it's something to do with that. Either way, he's not particularly expecting a book when he rips the wrapping open, and he makes a quiet noise of surprise as he lifts it out, sweeping one hand flat against the cover; even without the boon of feeling the emotions that come with objects, he's always been a tactile person, imbuing them with his own strength of feeling. Maybe that's why all of his knick knacks probably work for Ruka. It's probably why she chose the book she did, too, that soft, yielding cover that she knew he'd immediately run his hands over.
Then he opens it. ]
Oh.
[ One hand flips the pages, but now that the book's secure on his knees, his other hand travels, clasping to his chest, rising to cover his mouth, fingers scratching against the scruff of his beard. ]
Oh.
[ This, even without the other gifts, would be too much. More than he deserves. But every single page has the same thing etched on it, in its own way, Ruka saying what she thinks and how she feels with other people's words and other people's images - and is that really such a surprise? All of these say, over and over again, you've earned this and you deserve this and you managed to do something good. And that's all Jaime had ever wanted, really. To do something good. To do something that's worth something - anything.
It's the before-and-after pictures that really get to him. The rest do, of course, but this - this is why he does this. This is why he does anything. So these people will have a future, so they'll go on to make their own choices and live happily, so they can have the freedom that's been stolen from so many. How did she find these? How did she put this together? Jaime wouldn't have even known where to start. It must have taken her months. His breath hitches in his chest and his eyes well up despite him willing them not to - he's already cried in front of her so many times, and it feels like there's only so many times he should be able to go to that well in front of someone, but here he is, vision growing cloudy and words turning illegible in the face of it.
At least they're good tears this time. He hurriedly wipes the tears away, as though that can hide a dang thing when Ruka's staring right at him, feeling everything that he's feeling. It's good that she is, because he has no clue how to express it. How glad he is that so many of these people are doing all right, that they're flourishing, how touched he is to have remained in their memory, and possibly most potent of all, how overwhelmed he is that Ruka had put this all together. He wouldn't have expected anyone to. But Ruka, for all that he holds her in - in high esteem (he tries, with futility, to use such language even in the privacy of his own head; it's hard to go slow when his heart keeps on soaring ahead of him) shouldn't have had time for something like this. She's got more important things to do. Better things to do with her time. God knows Jaime couldn't cope with half the things Ruka has to deal with.
[ Trying to hide his reaction is, functionally, useless, but it's like him all the same. She doesn't mind. It's a lot to take in, and it's what she expected — what she hoped for, even if the referred tightness in her throat and the burn of tears and gratitude makes it hard to speak.
She moves to sit closer, leaning against his side; her arm slips into the space under his, hand resting on his forearm. Not moving to hold hands, not while he's still holding the book, but it's contact. Weight and presence. ]
It's not El Paso, and... [ she murmurs, chin at his shoulder, heart in her throat, ] ... there's nothing that can replace the people you've lost. There never will be. But... you're not just an imPort, you know? What you guys do here, it's something that will outlast any of us. These are people that will never forget you. This world is better with you in it.
[ Jaime is sentimental. It's why she went for photographs, for kids' drawings, for the little mementos to remind him of the people he's met, the things he's done. But the letters, the after-words... time and again, she's found Jaime to be someone who craves for things without knowing, who wants for things he doesn't pursue. He doesn't dress to stand out, but he wants to be seen, to be noticed. He doesn't do things for praise, for a good word, for a prize — but he still wants it to mean something. More than anything, she thinks, he wants to matter. ]
[ It's taken Jaime a long time to get here. Years. Sometimes, when he speaks of home, he's still not thinking about this place - he's thinking about the place that had always been his home, where he'd grown up, the people he had loved, the places he had always visited. But more and more, home becomes here.
You can belong to two places at once. Maybe Jaime's just all the more luckier for it. And when Ruka's sitting here by his side, warm against him, something that can only be described as loving even though he hadn't thought she'd get there so soon - looking at this, clearly she had - it's hard to look around him and not call this home. There are people he loves here.
The past year has just given him one more person to love. That's it. He splays his hand across one page, looking down at it. When people had asked him why he did what he did when there's no guarantee that he'll stick around, he'd always told them the same thing: it's for the people that will still be here.
They'll remember him. They'll remember all of them. Hopefully they'll remember them for what they are, not what they could be, or what they thought they were. But they'd be remembered. It's hard to speak for a second, so he doesn't. ]
Yeah, [ he manages. ] I guess I do. I mean... my world's better with you in it too.
[ That's something he can't quite shake off. It felt like he'd been drifting for a while. Dreaming. Then in the past year, all of a sudden, he'd woken up. But the world around him had been awake and alive that whole time. He just hadn't ever been able to see it. He shifts a little, leaning on her even as he raises a hand to scrub a little at his eyes. ]
Ruka... thank you.
[ It doesn't feel deserved. But on every page, there's people telling him that's not the case.
[ The hardest part is staying right where she is. His heart is brimming, overfull with affection, with sentiment, overfull. That much is fine. That much she expected from the start, but... when he turns the focus of it on her, it's hard not to deflect. It's hard not to knock those words from the air. His world is better with her? It's worse, too. Whatever good she brings, he could get that from a dozen other, better places, if he ever let himself look.
(But, already greedy, she doesn't want him looking for them anymore, either. Her fingertips, still gloved, sweep over his wrist, the line of his pulse. She doesn't want to lose him. Least of all to her own sabotage.) ]
So, [ she murmurs, voice quiet and throat dry, overwhelmed in her own feelings, ] was it worth the interruption?
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2019-04-27 10:29 pm (UTC)[ She knows exactly why, but she isn't lying. Stubborn, demanding, or ruder things — but usually just stubborn. ]
But, no, I can't think of anything I need. Just, let me know when I can come over. Okay?
no subject
Date: 2019-05-02 08:52 pm (UTC)[ He's not lying, though he doesn't rush his way through it too much either; he does need groceries, after all, and Ruka will just tease him for being overeager. She's not wrong either. It's not long before she receives a text. ]
Ready when you are.
no subject
Date: 2019-05-02 09:34 pm (UTC)But never mind that now. She rings the front doorbell, like a civilized person, and waits. When he finally opens the door, she looks... well, like she usually does coming over, riding jacket and helmet still on, red gloves; there's a slightly-larger-than-standard shopping tote hanging off of one of her arms. ]
Hey.
no subject
Date: 2019-05-07 01:56 am (UTC)But still, the lopsided grin he gives her is a little different than the ones he'd given her before. It's one she's been seeing more and more often, though. ]
Hey. You got here in a hurry.
[ With something too. A gift. It's gotta be. ]
no subject
Date: 2019-05-07 02:59 am (UTC)[ It's... different. Things are different. It's nothing she's willing to put words to, yet, and sometimes it feels like if she spends too much time thinking about it, she'll jinx the whole thing, but... it's something.
That smile is something.
She crosses the threshold, setting the bag to the side while she gets in order: jacket off, helmet off, loose pigtails wound back up into their usual buns, shoes off. As she goes through the process, she continues: ] If I'd been in a hurry, I would have gotten here before you. Obviously.
no subject
Date: 2019-05-13 09:09 pm (UTC)I'm just reading too much into things, right? [ It's funny. He's not sure where they're at, and it's not comfortable, but it's not the same as before either. Obviously. The discomfort's gone - he's just still trying to feel out where they're at, what he's allowed to do. ]
C'mon, let's go sit. And you can say hello to the dogs. Bet you can hear BB scratching at the door already.
no subject
Date: 2019-05-14 07:36 pm (UTC)As Jaime heads into the house, she follows, holding the bag's handles with both hands folded neatly behind her back. It's her first time in the new place, but it is... pretty much the same as the old place, if one forgives the fresher paint on the walls. There's a little bit of different placement for some of the furniture and some of the little homey touches, but much of it is still very clearly Jaime's. Still. It must feel different, to be displaced even this small a distance from your home of nearly five years. ]
They haven't been getting into trouble, have they?
no subject
Date: 2019-05-20 04:19 am (UTC)[ Jaime had already been in a good mood, considering, but he's always been the sort of person to feed off of other people's moods; it's hard not to smile right back at her. She's not fooling him for a second, but he'll let her enjoy the game while it lasts. It's not as though it's not fun for him too. ]
This little stinker rolled his way into a bath yesterday. He was about as happy about that as I was. [ He picks up BB at that, looking him right into his dopey eyes, then turns him around to hold him out towards Ruka. He licks her nose. He's always reliable for that sort of thing. ] Good idea, little guy. [ Jaime laughs and tucks BB closer into his body, giving Ruka a kiss on the cheek too before they sit down, because he's allowed to do that sort of thing now.
Welcome to cheese, Ruka. Remember: you signed up for this. ]
no subject
Date: 2019-05-20 06:28 am (UTC)And you both survived? [ It's a little airier than the other teases; when he pulls back far enough to see her face again, her nose is scrunched up and her cheeks flustered pink. Still smiling, too, but going to sit gives her an excuse to pivot away from the direct assault of his bright expression. It's been a few weeks, now, but it's done nothing to dim the newness of it. Every little piece of affection is a burst of surprise, and no amount of rationalizing or reminding herself how things have changed ever seems enough to prepare her for the reality of it. It's not a bad thing, but there's no amount of playing cool that can hide how much she gets swept up and off-guard.
She sets the bag down on the couch, the paper bottom crinkling at the weight of its contents, and sits beside it. When she turns back towards Jaime — posture polite, with her back straight and her knees locked together in a prim slant, but with one socked foot folded over the other, toes curled — it's with arms outstretched, hands making a beckoning motion.
Presumably, she's asking for the dog. ]
Let's see how well that went.
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Date: 2019-05-25 12:28 am (UTC)[ He's grinning at her too. God, this is stupid. They're stupid. This is the sort of thing that he'd look out from the outside and think both I'm very happy for you and I don't have time for that sort of thing, but look at them now, smiling about nothing in particular. Another time, it'd be enough to make him feel a little guilty for it, finding what happiness he can, but... heck, life is short. If this is what's making him happy - and making her happy from the looks of it - then why not? Who's it hurting?
He's not so comfortable that he takes the obvious bait, though. Not yet. So BB is dumped into Ruka's arms, all bright eyes and wagging tail and lolling tongue. ]
He's all yours.
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Date: 2019-05-26 05:56 am (UTC)The exam ceases with a little appraising hum. ] Passable. [ She lifts BB back up and plants one quick kiss to the top of his head, then promptly releases him back to the floor. Of course, with something as high energy as a practical puppy in her arms, the near-methodical reservation of her own movements only becomes more apparent. Each little half-roll was calibrated, the scratches and strokes measured, even the smooch a deliberate choice.
So, too, when she turns back to Jaime: she doesn't spring into action with his same careless speed of impulse, but with the apparent ease of something done before, or whose cost has already been paid. Ruka takes both of Jaime's hands and, as she'd done with BB, she turns them both this way and that, as though checking for damage. Through her gloves she can feel the heat of his palms; her thumbs sweep out from the center, over the heel, and back. ]
Your turn, [ she murmurs, voice already dropping back—too quiet, too low, too thin for too little breath—as she trades a hand holding his to a hand at his cheek, his jaw. Just enough to keep him in place when she presses a kiss to his forehead.
Will they ever get to what's in the bag. ]
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Date: 2019-05-29 02:03 am (UTC)But it's not that he loathes attention. It's that he loathes attention when he's looked at for leadership for hard times, or when the full weight of the public eye is on him. When it comes to stuff like this, in private moments, the attention coming from someone he adores, treating him with this sort of tenderness, he soaks it up like a regular Booster Gold. Any day where her attention is focused on him on this is a good day. ] Is that so? [ He says, trying to play it off. He does so poorly. He leans in low enough so that when she places a hand on his jaw, he lets some invisible force guide him so he's glancing up at her. ]
Do I pass inspection?
this is disgusting and i hate them
Date: 2019-05-29 08:59 pm (UTC)Her one hand stays at his jaw; the other brushes the loose bangs out of his eyes. Her throat is too dry for the playful teasing back — no passable, no well, I've hardly checked enough to tell, right? Cleverness is discarded quickly. ]
Yeah, [ is all she can manage instead, a little rasped, and it feels dangerous to sit this close and talk this quiet, and it feels like a mercy that she's still wearing gloves. Not much of one, though.
Her lips quirk. ]
Happy birthday, Jaime.
[ And, foolishly, she kisses him. ]
they're living out their lost teenage years IMMEDIATELY AND IN FULL
Date: 2019-05-31 10:58 pm (UTC)He prefers this, though, this feeling of her here with him, for him. There's no disasters. They're not talking about some horrible thing that's happened, or struggling with their inner demons. It's everything that he'd wanted before he'd confessed, the easiness of knowing you want someone and that you're wanted in return. That's enough impetus for them to be together. He doesn't know how she's feeling now and, for once, he's not trying to figure it out. He's happy to take that quirk of her lip at face value.
Jaime's got roommates. It's probably rude to take up the living room like this. But he can't bring himself to care, so he leans into the kiss, shifting his weight on the couch so he can lean into her proper, bringing one hand up to her cheek as well. ]
If that's what I get for my birthday, I should have it more often, [ he teases, voice low and bright all at the same time. ] You missed a couple, you know.
[ All right, so he's not subtle. But it's his birthday. He gets to be greedy today. ]
khaji please tabulate the proper obnoxiousness duration to make up for Traumatic Teenage Years
Date: 2019-06-01 01:13 am (UTC)[ It's coy, and quiet; his hand is too warm on her face, and she feels it shift placement when she talks. He's sitting so close and there's already enough contact that his roommates could probably be in the room and she wouldn't notice them at all.
This is incredibly dangerous, but she can't find the motivation to care. ]
And how should I make up for — well, how many are you counting?
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Date: 2019-06-03 11:15 pm (UTC)[ He hasn't been counting the years. He knows she probably has been - she's always had a better head for that sort of thing than him - but this isn't really about the years. It's just about being stupid and greedy and languishing in the moment. He hasn't been able to be stupid and greedy in a long time. He finds that he's thoroughly enjoying it. ]
More of the same works, [ he says, a laugh on his breath, a brightness in his eyes. ] What's the saying? If it ain't broke, don't fix it?
[ Kissing's great. Why did he go for years without kissing again? He can't seem to remember. ]
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Date: 2019-06-03 11:29 pm (UTC)She shifts on the couch; their knees bump. ]
You sure that's enough? [ She speaks quiet; she moves her hand back to comb through his hair, unable to feel the direct texture of it through her gloves, but the pressure alone is nice. ] I didn't bring presents for me, you know.
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Date: 2019-06-06 05:57 am (UTC)[ Though really, he's pretty sure whatever she has for him can't top this. He's being a big goof, and he knows it. But it's fun. He's happy. He still can't believe he's allowed to have this, in some ways, and that Ruka's right here humouring him. If she's enjoying this half as much as he is -- well, then they're on the right track. ]
If you really wanna move onto the next bit now, I hope you know I'm gonna hold you accountable for the rest of it.
[ Call it an IOU. ]
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Date: 2019-06-06 07:27 am (UTC)[ A tease, matter-of-fact — though, in truth, not much of a deterrent on her end. She's reticent on talking about this... whatever this winds up being, hesitant on putting names to it, to inviting observation and scrutiny and the inevitable attention from forces whose attention she does not want, but that's only the words of it. The actions, the physical presence and practical applications, everything making up this kind of attention...
Well. Between the two of them, it wasn't Jaime spending his single years picking up strangers in bars, was it?
Before he has a chance to rebut — or pull her into another kiss they might not get out of — Ruka pivots, pulling her bag off the couch and setting it instead on the floor at her feet. There's a heavy thud when it touches the ground, and she retrieves gifts from it one by one. He'll have to unwrap each one before he gets to the next one, so his poor table is going to be an inevitable graveyard of wrapping papers.
In order:
- A set of imported European drinking chocolates — Belgian, Swiss, and Finnish, by the looks of the labels.
- A pair of dark leather motorcycle gloves, already fitted (it's easier to get the right size, after all, when she already has all his measurements). Meant to compliment the leather jacket he keeps wearing.
- A novelty fridge magnet designed after a sun with rays, wearing sunglasses, but clearly misprinted and malformed, making its face less "cool" and more a comically stupid "I'm melting from my own heat, but It's Fine." It just looked so dumb. She had to.
- A proper bolo tie, traditionally made, the leather cord fixed with a round, carved silver medallion with a turquoise stone set in the center. Only held up close is the carving detail on the gem obvious — a stone scarab, in the Egyptian style.
There's one last present, but instead of handing it over directly, Ruka holds it in her lap — a larger, but thin, rectangular box. Her fingers run over the edge of it, clearly hesitating to pass it over. ]
This one... um. I meant to give this to you a while ago, but it never felt... like the right time. It still doesn't. It's not finished, either, but it's not supposed to be. It's not really from... me, either, so... you, uh, you might want to open it later.
[ All of this, and this is where she gets nervous? ]
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Date: 2019-06-10 01:51 am (UTC)And that's when the gift comes out. Or, rather, when the gifts come out, and they just don't stop coming. He stares a little, clearly gobsmacked. He'd expected something, of course, but this? This is so much. It'd be a lot from anyone, but it's a lot from Ruka too, who tends to put a lot of effort into these things, for which things that other people take for granted are more difficult for her.
Didn't they say they were going to take things slow? ]
Ruka, this is too much!
[ Happily that's not this is too much and I'm uncomfortable or this is too much and I'm trying to figure out how the heck I'm going to return it or you shouldn't have gotten these for me. It's I have no idea how else to express how much I know you put into this. The drinking chocolates will go quickly, he knows. The gloves will be worn to death and, truthfully, there's a part of him that's oddly pleased that he's got a pair from her, knowing how much he associates gloves in general with Ruka. They're not her trademark out of fashion alone, but they're her trademark nonetheless. The magnet gets a laugh out of him, because of course it does. And the bolo tie... well. It seems like it's time for him to figure out how to wear one.
He looks up at her after he's through, a little overwhelmed, but grateful too. She sure knows how to make a guy feel special. ]
Thank you! I love them.
[ Well, he's always been one to say what's on his mind. He reaches out to accept the box - with a little murmur of more? - and transfers it to his own lap. ]
...d'you mind if I open it now?
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Date: 2019-06-10 04:31 am (UTC)[ She folds her hands atop her knees, trying to refrain from the instinct to take it back, or to make an excuse and leave before he opens it. It's nothing bad, and she knows Jaime well enough to know the kind of reaction he will have. It's nothing he's told her outright; perhaps part of it is nothing he'd intended her to notice, but they're part of what makes him who he is.
Jaime is, if nothing else, sentimental. He cherishes the little things, and holds onto his mementos for as long as he can, no matter how other people might look at them. Bottle caps, photographs — she already knows that the chocolate tins will either have their labels saved, or at least one will be reused as a planter or a cup for pens. Too much and too many have been taken from him, over the years here; it's possible too much and too many is what he'd lost, before he ever came to this world. He'll hold tight to every little good thing he can.
The present in his lap weighs a couple pounds; the wrapping, like all the rest, is neat, and it undoes easily. A plain gift box, and thin tissue, and beneath all that is a book. Not a regular book, published and printed, like a novel or anything. It's tall, and wide, and thick, the cover an unmarked blue with a material that yields, ever-so-slightly, to the touch.
A scrapbook.
For the first couple of pages, it's straightforward: newspaper scans, photo print-offs of television clips, screenshots of old bwitter article-links, all of this or that heroic deed by the Blue Beetle. Evacuating a burning building too dangerous to enter; cars and people stranded after accidents, retrieved in time for medical care; the thwarting of robberies, assaults; the mundane retrieval of cats from trees, reuniting kids and their misplaced dogs, misplaced parents; the hauling to shore of damaged boats. All usual stuff, but what's interspersed with these little objective accounts of his deeds that is what matters.
Letters. Blog posts. Drawings. Both my daughters were in that crash. I thank God every day that you were there, and I was sure we weren't going to make it, but he made sure we were okay, and Thank you for saving my mommy, and dozens more. Typed, hand-written, some address directly to the Blue Beetle, some to a nebulous third-party audience. Page after page, story after story, comes with something like it. Sometimes they come with photographs — people he's rescued in the months or years later. There's six straight pages dedicated to simple before-and-after pictures of kids and their cats, kids and their dogs, and those kids older, taller, some now in their teens, showing off their still-beloved pets. There's graduation pictures — for high school, for college, for a few parents and grandparents that have managed to go back. Wedding pictures. Family portraits. Snapshots of average, ordinary life.
Since then, I finished school.
Since that day, I could start a new life. Thank you for giving me the chance.
We decided we didn't want to wait any more after that. We got married!!!
I was there to see my granddaughter's birthday. Now I'll get to see many more :)
After that, I met my best friend. We're opening a shop together after we're done with college.
Since then, we found out we're expecting. It's a boy! We're thinking of naming him Jaime ♥
Pages, and pages, and pages. Things he's done in the past year; things he's done in his first, and everywhere between. But even for as many full pages as there are, it's not even half, not even a quarter, maybe not even a tenth of the good deeds the Blue Beetle has done here. Not even a tenth of the impact he's had. And these are just some of the people he's helped, and only ones he's helped directly - between him and Khaji, they'll recognize most of them.
The book ends with about thirty blank pages — unfinished. Impossible to be finished. ]
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Date: 2019-06-11 07:46 pm (UTC)[ Jaime's not sure what he's expecting that she's so nervous about. Maybe it's something she worked on? She's a pretty artsy person. He's still gotta check out her games. Maybe it's something to do with that. Either way, he's not particularly expecting a book when he rips the wrapping open, and he makes a quiet noise of surprise as he lifts it out, sweeping one hand flat against the cover; even without the boon of feeling the emotions that come with objects, he's always been a tactile person, imbuing them with his own strength of feeling. Maybe that's why all of his knick knacks probably work for Ruka. It's probably why she chose the book she did, too, that soft, yielding cover that she knew he'd immediately run his hands over.
Then he opens it. ]
Oh.
[ One hand flips the pages, but now that the book's secure on his knees, his other hand travels, clasping to his chest, rising to cover his mouth, fingers scratching against the scruff of his beard. ]
Oh.
[ This, even without the other gifts, would be too much. More than he deserves. But every single page has the same thing etched on it, in its own way, Ruka saying what she thinks and how she feels with other people's words and other people's images - and is that really such a surprise? All of these say, over and over again, you've earned this and you deserve this and you managed to do something good. And that's all Jaime had ever wanted, really. To do something good. To do something that's worth something - anything.
It's the before-and-after pictures that really get to him. The rest do, of course, but this - this is why he does this. This is why he does anything. So these people will have a future, so they'll go on to make their own choices and live happily, so they can have the freedom that's been stolen from so many. How did she find these? How did she put this together? Jaime wouldn't have even known where to start. It must have taken her months. His breath hitches in his chest and his eyes well up despite him willing them not to - he's already cried in front of her so many times, and it feels like there's only so many times he should be able to go to that well in front of someone, but here he is, vision growing cloudy and words turning illegible in the face of it.
At least they're good tears this time. He hurriedly wipes the tears away, as though that can hide a dang thing when Ruka's staring right at him, feeling everything that he's feeling. It's good that she is, because he has no clue how to express it. How glad he is that so many of these people are doing all right, that they're flourishing, how touched he is to have remained in their memory, and possibly most potent of all, how overwhelmed he is that Ruka had put this all together. He wouldn't have expected anyone to. But Ruka, for all that he holds her in - in high esteem (he tries, with futility, to use such language even in the privacy of his own head; it's hard to go slow when his heart keeps on soaring ahead of him) shouldn't have had time for something like this. She's got more important things to do. Better things to do with her time. God knows Jaime couldn't cope with half the things Ruka has to deal with.
But here she is. And here this is. ]
Ruka...
[ Just give him a second. ]
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Date: 2019-06-11 08:36 pm (UTC)She moves to sit closer, leaning against his side; her arm slips into the space under his, hand resting on his forearm. Not moving to hold hands, not while he's still holding the book, but it's contact. Weight and presence. ]
It's not El Paso, and... [ she murmurs, chin at his shoulder, heart in her throat, ] ... there's nothing that can replace the people you've lost. There never will be. But... you're not just an imPort, you know? What you guys do here, it's something that will outlast any of us. These are people that will never forget you. This world is better with you in it.
[ Jaime is sentimental. It's why she went for photographs, for kids' drawings, for the little mementos to remind him of the people he's met, the things he's done. But the letters, the after-words... time and again, she's found Jaime to be someone who craves for things without knowing, who wants for things he doesn't pursue. He doesn't dress to stand out, but he wants to be seen, to be noticed. He doesn't do things for praise, for a good word, for a prize — but he still wants it to mean something. More than anything, she thinks, he wants to matter. ]
This is where you belong.
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Date: 2019-06-18 01:28 am (UTC)You can belong to two places at once. Maybe Jaime's just all the more luckier for it. And when Ruka's sitting here by his side, warm against him, something that can only be described as loving even though he hadn't thought she'd get there so soon - looking at this, clearly she had - it's hard to look around him and not call this home. There are people he loves here.
The past year has just given him one more person to love. That's it. He splays his hand across one page, looking down at it. When people had asked him why he did what he did when there's no guarantee that he'll stick around, he'd always told them the same thing: it's for the people that will still be here.
They'll remember him. They'll remember all of them. Hopefully they'll remember them for what they are, not what they could be, or what they thought they were. But they'd be remembered. It's hard to speak for a second, so he doesn't. ]
Yeah, [ he manages. ] I guess I do. I mean... my world's better with you in it too.
[ That's something he can't quite shake off. It felt like he'd been drifting for a while. Dreaming. Then in the past year, all of a sudden, he'd woken up. But the world around him had been awake and alive that whole time. He just hadn't ever been able to see it. He shifts a little, leaning on her even as he raises a hand to scrub a little at his eyes. ]
Ruka... thank you.
[ It doesn't feel deserved. But on every page, there's people telling him that's not the case.
That's something. ]
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Date: 2019-06-18 03:44 am (UTC)(But, already greedy, she doesn't want him looking for them anymore, either. Her fingertips, still gloved, sweep over his wrist, the line of his pulse. She doesn't want to lose him. Least of all to her own sabotage.) ]
So, [ she murmurs, voice quiet and throat dry, overwhelmed in her own feelings, ] was it worth the interruption?
TWO HUG TAGS IN ONE EVENING!!!
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