legionworld | (no subject)

Entry tags:

justice/vance astrovik

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Who| Robbie and any injured Legionnaires.
What| Visiting hours.
Where| Medbay
When| After Cancerverse.
Warnings/Notes| None.

Visiting teammates in medbay is far mandatory, but it’s just what you do, even if they’ll probably be out by dinner. Then again, Robbie’s technically been a medbay inmate himself for more than a day.

He’s allowed – encouraged – to move around at this point. He had several dips in the goo tanks and robotic surgery to repair the puncture wounds, but broken ribs are still broken ribs 1000 years later. They can accelerate the bones knitting back together, but it’s just pain management and keeping mobile enough to prevent things healing too tight and help his lungs stay clear.

Despite this, he still had to enlist one of the nurses to get him gag gifts for the other Legionnaires getting treated. Because flowers are great, but laughter is the best medicine.

Robbie approaches the bed quietly with only a wave and waits to see if his teammate even wants company at the moment.

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“I wasn’t avoiding you,” Robbie says, pleading for understanding. “I was avoiding disappointing you. There’s a difference, I swear.”

Okay, the difference is that Robbie would’ve stopped avoiding Vance if he legitimately no longer cared that way. Maybe. Honestly, the idea has a strange appeal, a promise of comfort and ego boosting and never having to be alone.

Which are… all things Robbie doesn’t deserve. But Vance does. And here he is in the middle of the whirlpool of confusion, which he can and has circled for hours. Which is more important, and what is he really afraid of?

“The doc keeps telling me I have to work accepting being flawed without beating myself up before I wind up with a phobia so bad I can’t leave my room. I told her it would be a nice vacation.” Robbie swallows hard and shakes his head. “I’ve let down so many people, and you still believed in me. Still cared enough to bother. I’m sorry I don’t deserve it. I wish I did. Then you wouldn’t be disappointed… god, you’re the last person I wanted to hurt. I wanted to protect you.”

Grif spreads his arms in a demonstration of bodily okayness. "Yeah, I guess. I think we did pretty good for meeting literal death?" He doesn't chase after Robbie self-deprecating about... things. Because now he knows what some of those things are, and it's way out of his league friendshipwise.

"But if you find me laying somewhere and I don't move for a week, don't worry. I'm just gonna be asleep."

Even with his head hurting, Vance leaned forward to take hold of Robbie's wrist. Hands were too personal at the moment. Maybe. It's hard to tell.

"You're allowed to have flaws. God knows we all do." Vance has plenty of his own. Proof being that he's currently dealing with a concussion. "I am always going to believe in you, you know. Because I know you and I know the person that you are." He looks to Robbie, trying not to wince as his head swims. "You absolutely do deserve it. I know you don't believe it, but I hope you do some day."

At the touch, he looked at the hand on his wrist for a long time. He’s not shocked or alarmed by the act – it’s all right, he supposes. Vance’s hand is warm. And if it felt intimate, what does Robbie know about that really? He can’t even blame it on Vance, when he himself has a habit of impromptu late-starting sleepovers.

But the wrist is too much. It’s part of the forearm that he regularly took his stress and anxiety out on and far too close to the thin, paler skin on the underside of his wrist that he used to stare at forever before leaving it alone.

He doesn’t want Vance to touch that and get that filth on him. Robbie shifts his hand until it’s under Vance’s. He hated it when people touch his scars. Vance is a patient in the space hospital. Holding hands is appropriate. “I believe in you and that you believe it. I guess I’m working on the rest, but I didn't leave enough room up on that pedestal for both of us to fit.”

His hand reaches up and grabs Robbie's in a death grip. It's not an "I'm alarmed" motion, it's more that he just wants to touch him, make sure he's solid and real and actually there and okay.

"Yeah. Yeah. Right. Yeah."

'The old stuff.' New stuff. Old stuff. Too much stuff. Robbie's faced too much stuff.

And Rich had added to it. But it wasn't his fault, right? There are lots of things that weren't his fault.

Even though they weren't, he still has to fix them.

"I still hurt you," he says, his voice dropping to a quiet whisper. "I still hurt you. I remember it now. It kinda...blends. What I said and what I remembered saying. But they were different things, I can tell now."

He's a little more cognizant of the times they'd motored him around and controlled him. Initially, he just hadn't remembered at all, but now he remembers being sunk down under the weight of the Many-Angled ones, trapped. Stifled and gagged.

"I said things to you that I didn't mean. I meant other things. I remember saying other things. That's what they left me. I walked away thinking I'd been myself, but they'd made me into something else."

And now he's drowning in it, drowning in all the mistakes fake Rich...Squich had made. They almost feel like his own mistakes, that's what makes them so oily and wrong and gross, but the memories of what he thought he'd said are clear enough for him to be sure that those mistakes weren't his. He'd had to be placated with fake memories of what he wanted to say to not notice the seams.

"Too many things. Old things and new things and I added things, but I didn't mean them Robbie, I swear. I swear."

Edited 2017-12-01 04:06 (UTC)

It's not like Vance can't figure out why Robbie moves his hand from his wrist, but that doesn't stop having his hand held from feeling...pretty good, honestly. Enough to make him sit back a bit and relax a little more.

"Well. I guess that's a start." One day, Robbie will believe it. Until then, Vance can believe it enough for them both. "I'd rather not be on a pedestal, though, you know. It's way too easy to fall off of a pedestal, after all."

God. Was this what he had sounded like once, falling over himself to explain his position on a cold and ruthless team like the Thunderbolts, apologizing to Rich for hurting him?

He’s not actually sure he did. He thought about it, a lot, in the space between regaining his mind and picking up his old life. Robbie suspects he thought about some things so hard that he’s permanently damaged the memory trying out other lines and outcomes.

He doesn’t shake off Rich's hand – doesn’t judge him. Robbie just listens and feels it, too, because he knows how it feels afterwards to realize your mind was poisoned and swayed to believe blue was red.

“I just walked away thinking I’d been myself,” Robbie says quietly, “but they made me into someone else.”

The intonation doesn’t leave room for doubt: Robbie’s talking about himself, not parroting. “I don’t want you to apologize anymore than you want me to. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m an adult, for reals. I asked for advice, but I made my own bad decisions. And I own them, new and especially old. I don’t put that burden on anyone else.”

Robbie cards a hand through his hair and lets out a rough sigh. “I think in the event of tentacle monster possession I’m going to walk back my whole thing about how the ends and the means matter more than intent. Intent's all you have sometimes.”

Yeah, yeah, Rich gets two presents and everybody else only got one. Robbie can't stand to have him hurting over things that were Robbie's fault, though.

"Baby steps, right?" Robbie can't let himself tread on this moment. Vance looks more at ease, content.

His hand still feels warm. It's nice.

Robbie squashes that line of thought. It would like complication on complications. He wants things to be normal, where he doesn't have stray thoughts like that and a growing curiosity about how it would feel to let Vance say things like I love you again. Because Robbie trusts him and wants to believe him and because of how he feels as well. "I don't think you can. You haven't even wobbled. You're the best hero, the best... person I know. You're always good at whatever you're getting ranked on. You're really not boring. I know I give you a hard time a lot, but I ... you know. Admire you."

And if someone like that could - could prefer to be around Robbie, maybe he's finally done doing penance.

Edited 2017-12-02 05:33 (UTC)

"Baby steps," he agrees, shifting so that he's sitting more back against the pillows. But not taking his hand from Robbie.

And it's a point. Things with Angel had been different. That had been jumping in with both feet and getting in over his head. It had been going in hot until things cooled off. And he didn't want anything like that to happen with Robbie.

He squeezes Robbie's hand. "I admit, some of it is not wanting to let anybody down." A moment, then, "I really don't want to let you down."

It's served him well so far. Yes, the team is always important to him, but making certain Robbie is fine at the end of the day has taken a certain amount of importance since they'd left the Avengers. Maybe even before.

“Did you listen to anything I said? You’re not going to let me down,” Robbie says adamantly. He rushes so Vance can’t protest. “You know how I know? You’ve had so many opportunities. Times where even I could’ve seen why you’d do it.”

He thinks about fights, about the early days of being Speedball again where the struggle to be normative was constant, arguments of principle that Robbie was certain weren’t going to go his way.

But then, they did. Because Vance swing the argument by strength of will, and all of Robbie’s pre-emptive anger disappeared. Vance can’t disappoint him. There’s some sort of universal constant in play. “You can’t just let me have this? Everyone's got this power where they say something and I get all turned around and nothing looks the same anymore. Just let me know something again.”

He does try to listen, tries not to speak over Robbie. It's not entirely true, of course, but the ways that he feels he's let Robbie down are ways that he never had control of in the first place and Dr. Ry'kerr has been working with him about letting it go.

Survivor's guilt is a terrible thing, after all.

It takes a few moments, but he looks up at Robbie. "I can't say that I won't sometimes worry about it, but I'll do my best to accept it." It's not going to be easy, but he can try.

“Okay.” Frustration seeps in. Robbie can’t quite grasp why – Vance agreed to let him have his way – but he feels let down. Just how Vance doesn’t want him to feel. He said nothing's the same, and Vance meekly accepts it. It’s neat and tidy… and it leaves Robbie feeling cold.

This is what he wanted, isn’t it? Vance isn’t questioning things, he’s backing off, and that voice in the back of Robbie’s head is free to say 'See, it was never true. No one could ever ignore enough of your shit to want you. I told you so.’

It doesn’t feel like winning. “Good. We’re good then. Everything’s back to normal.”

Except for the hand-holding, which never occurs to him to stop.

He's been wanting to say more since Robbie came in, since Robbie took hold of his hand. Sure, the hand holding may not ever mean more than just not touching the scars on his arm, but...

But it's been going on a while and Robbie doesn't seem to be wanting to let go.

Vance rubs his thumb over Robbie's knuckles before snorting out a laugh. "Robbie, nothing with us has ever been normal." Another moment. "And we've always been good."

Before he can make himself stop, he tugs on Robbie's hand. "Can you stand up? I'd lean down, but my head might object to that." After all, he still has a concussion. But this totally calls for a hug of some sort, right?

He starts at the light touch before he can even think that he should try to contain a reaction. It’s intimate. Or an accident. But it’s not normal.

Which is ironic, because that’s what Vance is saying. Robbie laughs as he obliges and stands up – maybe it will hide how he short-circuited. “I don’t know who you’re talking about. I’m just a normal guy who was hit with a ray of weird energy – with his cat – and spent the next few years saving the world with the also normal guy who can move things with his brain like Matilda. Totes average joes.”

There's a pause as his brain finishes rebooting. "I guess the standing thing is my cue to leave."

Edited 2017-12-05 14:43 (UTC)

"Hey. That's absolutely average back home." The laughter is good, though, he thinks there might be some strain to it.

He pulls Robbie closer, reaching up to pull him into a hug. Without thought, he turns his head and presses a quick kiss to Robbie's cheek.

That just happened.

Vance kissed him.

On the cheek, yes, but that doesn’t make it less familiar. A real kiss is more enthusiastic and charged with eager want. That was… gentle. Sweet, even. What right does he have to be anywhere in the same neighborhood as sweet?

Robbie realizes he’s frozen right there in the hug and backs up a few inches to combat how warm and close the room's gotten, but not completely away. He might feel like he did when Vance confessed his feelings – like Legion World got shook like as snow globe – but he’s not willing to blow up their friendship again. That hadn’t worked. He’d been miserable, lonely, and confused.

Maybe, if he doesn’t try to fight every surprisingly nice thing that happens, he can settle for confused in this new normal they’ve created. Just don’t think too hard about why Vance kissing his cheek is so nice.

Robbie licks his lips nervously and glances fleetingly at Vancebefore admitting, “I don’t know what to do next.”

There’s no safe way out or in this hug. It’s a mine-hug, and he wants a road map. How to move without setting off an explosion. The jury's hung on whether or not the kiss was a bomb or da bomb. Not enough evidence.

Vance felt his cheeks heat up, but he refused to look away from Robbie. And, honestly, things are going a little better than last time. After all, Robbie hasn't run away. So it's a start.

"I probably shouldn't have done that after last time," he admits with a sardonic smile. "But I seem to have trouble with actually talking some times.

"I know that...that I jumped in too fast last time. And I'm not expecting you to return my feelings now. Maybe not ever." He takes a breath, then offers, "But I'd like to go on a date with you. It doesn't have to be public. Vegan pizza and movies in the Crashpad or your room or wherever you'd be comfortable would be great. But just...something simple." Something that could be a start. Maybe.

“It’s okay,” Robbie says quickly, unwilling to let Vance blame himself for nothing. “I talk enough for both of us.”

He's trying to find his footing, easing his way out of the hug in what Robbie hopes is a polite manner.

“Vegan pizza and a stay home shame date. You really know how to impress a guy.” The tone is jovial, but the smile and the eye contact end abruptly as Robbie goes silent.

He knows what he should ask. He can’t keep making choices on Vance’s behalf because he obviously sucks at it, but even bringing up the idea could make today painfully worse. If it spares more in the future though… “What if it is never? Wouldn’t it be better – for you - if I left you alone? Rich, er, the squid aliens, I guess… look, I can’t even get the doc to give me a straight answer about whether or not I’m good for y- anyone. I thought, is protecting you now better than hurting you then?”

He hesitates on looking back at Vance, flicks his eyes over repeatedly as Robbie tries to assess how badly the rationale for his previous avoidance as landed. He isn’t sure if Vance will take advantage of the escape hatch that it simultaneously represents.

"It's not a shame date. It's a no pressure date." Being out in public for them both could be pressure. The various Legion fans and such might make it difficult. "I mean, if you'd rather go out, I'm good with that. I guess...pizza and a movie isn't weird." They'd done that before, after all. Just...not as a date.

Vance reaches out, taking hold of Robbie's hand again. "If it's never, then it's never, Robbie. It would hurt, sure, but I would get over it." It would take time, but he'd survived a broken heart before.

"As for whether you're good for somebody?" Vance shrugs. "There's not really an easy answer for that. And probably there's only a couple of people who could tell you that; you and whoever you decide to take a chance with." He looks at Robbie seriously. "I guess what I'm saying is...you know me, Robbie. When has the thought of pain in the future ever stopped me from getting right in the middle of things?"

“It was a joke,” Rob says defensively. So much for lightening the mood at all. “Pizza and a movie is fi- great. You can pick the movie.”

He catches himself on fine and swallows the follow up joke about how, if pizza and a movie counted as dates, Robbie’s been in a huge poly relationship since he was 15. He doubts it would go over big, and it might interfere with Vance holding his hand.

Robbie decides to upgrade that to really nice. Both familiar and new, it twists his stomach like a rollercoaster and is the only thing keeping him from sighing. He’s aware this is big. Huge, in terms of their continued friendship and what shape it takes. He will someday pinpoint this as the exact day he passed some point of no return.

Robbie just doesn’t know if he’ll regret it. There’s no crystal ball for experimentation with Real Relationships. Vance certainlyainly seems willing, and it’s not like Robbie is afraid of pain, as long as it’s his own.

“I don’t want you to get… I don’t know. Hurt.” Or over it, but he holds that in. What if everything Robbie thought of as them being bros was due to Vance’s feelings? If he gets over it, are they still friends? Were they ever? Don’t think about it. “I know you said no pressure, but can I get a when do I can freak out over something specific instead of whenever you ambush date me? And, uh, clarification on if kissing is something we do nowadays would be good."

Honestly, that's one of the things that Vance has been thinking about a lot. After all, Valeria had pointed out at the time that they'd been trying to make Vance and Robbie look like they were dating. Except that it didn't actually look all that odd. It was pretty much how things had happened.

"You can freak out. That's allowed, I think. Things are a bit different now." He doesn't take his hand from Robbie's of course. "I think that, if you want to, kissing is something that can happen. It's something that I'm comfortable with, I think."

Robbie huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. "I want to freak out over something specific. If I freak out because at some point, maybe, we're going to be on a date and not even know it, that means I'm going to freak out from now until whenever that happens."

He's not fifteen anymore, so he sees no need to act suave about the whole thing. Besides, there is no hiding how non-existent his love life has been from Vance. He's been right there for several years now. He knows that Robbie barely makes the effort to flirt with hot supervillains, and that used to be his favorite hobby. "And... right. Good, glad you're comfortable. Yeah."

... did they just agree to kiss? Wait, he wants to ask, when is that going to happen? It's suddenly more important than when the date is, and Robbie can feel the heat creep up into his cheeks. Someone save him from today.

"With luck, this will be the only 'ambush date'. Anything after this would be planned between the two of us." Really, this one should probably be better planned than it is, but Vance has a habit of letting his mouth run away with him around Robbie.

Glad you're comfortable. Which possibly means that Robbie isn't. Vance tugs his hand lightly, just enough to get his attention. "Next kiss is yours to initiate. With the same rules as the rest of it. If you're never okay with it, then that's also all right."

“All right?” Robbie says with a soft laughing tone. He isn’t sure how to unpack his feelings enough to really respond. No, it’s not all right to never kiss the person you’re dating, not to Robbie’s inner teenaged self, who represents the totality of his dating experience.

That Robbie would’ve thought that kissing was great but the idea of kissing Vance was weird. The Robbie of six months ago would have said he was not part of that dance anymore. Male or female had ceased to be relevant. The calculations of dating and fondness don’t allow for people like him.

But this Robbie is half a year removed from regular external reminders of his failings. He has slacked on punishing himself and finds that he can no longer use his sins as a reason to never kiss someone.

Now, when he tries to think of a reason that will tell him what to do, there’s only the warmth engulfing his hand and cooling on his cheek, quite separate from the heat of the blush. Robbie thinks he knows what he would like to do.

“No, it’s not all right,” he said carefully. He doesn’t want to put Vance on edge, but Robbie feels like he has to telegraph a warning of what he’s about to try. Because it is trying, it’s an experiment with two subjects who are too involved to be clinical. “I won’t get you stuck in a monkmance if I decide I don’t like the physical side.”

With an impetuous speed that would’ve made teenaged Robbie proud, he stepped forward, straight into a kiss, before he could tell himself how much he didn’t deserve it. It’s a near miss, because he’s already telling himself what a bad idea it when his lips crash into Vance’s. It wouldn't be any easier with weeks and a date under his belt; the pressure to not disappoint would only get worse.

So he kisses the boy and doesn't intend to stop until they both figure out if they like it.

The last day or so has been full of surprises for Vance. Most of them, not actually very nice surprises.

This one is, though. It pulls a startled 'Mmph!' from him as Robbie kisses him, with a lot more enthusiasm -- or something -- than experience. Enough that Vance reaches up with his free hand, settling it against Robbie's face to keep him close while Vance himself turns his head slightly. Not pulling away at all, but simply angling his head so that their mouths fit together better, enough to gentle the kiss itself without breaking it. Making it easier on them both, even if his head pounds a little more with the movement.

Tightening his hand on Robbie's, though, he figures that's a small price to pay, really.

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Cw: mentions of self harm and suicide ideation

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