legionworld | (no subject)

Entry tags:

justice/vance astrovik

(no subject)

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Sure, the last few weeks have been awkward as anything and Vance knows neither of them have slept well. After all, Vance is used to Robbie coming to his room when he's having nightmares. But this is...this is pretty much normal, honestly. And it loosens something up in his chest that makes the laughing easier and his head not hurt so much.

The sticker gets another laugh out of him, settling back against the pillows. "Feels better already," he says, taking a moment to look over Robbie properly. "You're looking better, too."

“It’s amazing how good I look when all the blood's on the inside. Excessively so, I had rosy cheeks this morning, although it was probably because of how warm they keep that gel.”

It is normal, and that does catch up with him. He’s missed this, the familiar old-jeans comfort of this friendship. Robbie doesn’t have time to think 'why am I making myself miss this?' when he remembers. Because it was hurting Vance.

But Vance seems like he’s enjoying himself now, and Rob benefits from the greatest thrill he allows himself: making Vance laugh. It’s not the biggest challenge, but it gives him the warmest fuzzies.

Maybe this is okay. Vance certainly deserves to feel better.

"I'm not complaining about the heat of that gel, even if I haven't had to use it. It's got to be better than going in cold."

The fact that it's normal is...it's good. He didn't fuck everything up by admitting his feelings. It's something that they can ignore and things can just be like they were before, with luck.

“They didn’t put you in?” That it wasn’t so bad as to need the gel tank makes Robbie happy. It’s that whole 'not wanting Vance hurt' thing.

“Maybe I really will try to spring you tonight,” he muses. “If they let me go, I could tell them I’ll keep an eye on you. And you can keep an eye on me, and we can get out of all this sterile white.”

Vance reaches up, rubbing the back of his head. "I might have been pushing for everybody else to get checked out first, then kinda went and found someplace to sleep it off." Which...isn't the best thing to do with a concussion, but he's done it before. "But since I didn't wake up in the gel, I'm guessing they figured it couldn't be that bad."

Since he isn't still wearing his uniform. And he definitely didn't change out of it himself.

Robbie’s expression darkens at that. He gets why – really, he does. Take me last. I’m fine. Help my friends.

But when the person delaying treatment isn’t Rob – when it’s Vance of all people – it’s so much harder to understand without comment. “I wish you wouldn’t do that. You shouldn’t mess around with head injuries. You could never be the same.”

Despite knowing exactly how much of a hypocrite he is I’m this moment, the worry is back in his voice, because where would he be in a world without Vance? Taking care of him. Or alone, and that would be worse. The past few weeks were bad enough. “You’re worth twice of any of them.”

Vance frowns, but doesn't argue about the fact that he should have let somebody see him earlier. It's not like he really can, anyway. He's always been lucky with the head injuries he's had. Doesn't mean that luck won't run out some day.

The rest of it, though, does make him shake his head. "I'm not worth more than anybody else, Robbie. But...I guess it's just the whole 'leader' thing I can't ever seem to let go of. Making sure my team is taken care of." Like how he'd made certain Robbie was going to be okay before going off to the Cancerverse to make sure Rich would be okay.

One had worked a lot better than the other.

It’s not like the argument is unexpected. Vance is a good person, with all the kind, humble traits that entails. Robbie suspects that sometimes humbleness is poor self esteem, but that’s part of why he’s boosting his ego here.

“Yeah, you are. It's why people follow you. I know you’re not going to accept it, because that’s the catch-22. If you did, you wouldn’t be anymore.”

The other, more awful reason is that Robbie unflinchingly believes that Vance is worth more than almost anyone. He's trying to picture a Sophie’s choice of only being able to save one and, while he’d try to save everyone, Vance is prioritized against… almost any one, really. “You’re worth that much to me, and I know you…”

He was going to jokingly threaten that if Vance worries over him as much as Robbie suspects, he should be glad to know that keeping himself safe keeps Robbie sane. Comedy is truth, and it’s a little too true. Robbie thinks about their last real conversation, blushes faintly, and looks away.

Some of it is lousy self-esteem. In this particular case, though, it also comes from the fact that he's seen far too many people who consider themselves better than others. Worth more than others. It never ends well for anybody around those kinds of people.

He laughs softly, trying to think of something to say when Robbie says that he's worth that much to him. Which could easily have just gone past him had Robbie not looked away. And was that a blush?

The laughter fades as he watches Robbie, a crease between his eyebrows as they pull down. But he reaches out, squeezing Robbie's shoulder. "Well. You're worth that much to me, too."

There's more he could say, but... "I'm sorry, by the way. For making things uncomfortable between us."

This is why Robbie had been embarrassed by the admission. He couldn’t say things like that anymore. The weirdness of talking about feelings would not be dismissed with an easy arm punch. Things were different for now, maybe forever.

It isn’t Vance’s fault, though, and they are apparently talking about feelings and relationships again. Robbie doubts coming to visit was a hot idea. He isn’t any less confused, except that Vance is guilty only of bad timing. “No, don’t apologize. I’m the sorry one. I…”

Robbie tilted his head to one side and shifted his gaze further away, a sheepish expression out of place when he normally tries to look confident. “… Freaked, and it’s not freaking material. I knew it, too, but I couldn’t get it under control. I tried getting advice, but you weren’t an option so I asked Rich.”

Here, he makes a face and does a breakdance arm wiggle to mimic tentacles. “I thought I asked Rich. I’m not so sure. I knew texting you was shitty, but I couldn’t look you in the face. He said that was okay. In hindsight, I should’ve known right then that there was something wrong with Rich, but I was too confused and committed to following the advice to just have some answer. Some plan to make everything okay. But it’s not, and I’m back to confused.”

Robbie risks looking at Vance, out of some belief that apologies carry more weight when you don’t duck someone’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I told him what happened to get his opinion. I couldn’t bullshit it. You’re the only other old friend here.”

"Robbie. You're absolutely allowed to freak. I kinda dropped a lot on you in one go. I could have gone about things in a better way." And he's had plenty of time to think about things since then. About how he should have handled things differently.

Still, he smiles when Robbie admits to talking to Rich. "I can't say I'm surprised. If things had been the other way around...well, I'd probably have done the same thing." Sure, they both had other friends in the Legion, but nobody was the same sort of level as Rich for either one of them. "I'm not upset about it." He pauses. "I'm not upset about you asking him. I'm pretty upset that he screwed things up the way he did, but I'm pretty sure that wasn't him, either." Another reason to be glad that entire dimension is dust.

Vance settles back. "I won't say I wasn't hurt by the texting. I'm pretty sure you could read me well enough to know that would be a lie. But the whole thing was difficult and...honestly, I kinda hated it. The avoiding thing more than anything else."

“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.”

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.”

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."

"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.

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Cw: mentions of self harm and suicide ideation

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