[ They're having two very different yet simultaneously similar experiences over here. Compromised by the press of a warm body flush from chest to thigh, compromised by a voice in his ear, the occasional feeling of breath it brings.
It's been a while for him since he cut off sex — not six months, closer to three, and never with somebody he cared about (at the time; him and Kyna grew after that stopped). As a matter of fact, he hasn't been up close and personal with somebody that mattered in a not-strictly-platonic way since... what, undergrad?
Hilariously, and maybe it's a total contradiction, but the fact that he cares amps up the determination not to feel anything about this. No weird intimacy, no prickling at the back of his neck, none of that heartbeat stutter shit, definitely not thinking about kissing on a cliff once. None of that's happening, thank you very much. He is an adult and he is in complete control of his feelings and reactions.
Could say the same thing to you- god damn it Nathan. You are not helping. ]
Don't let me mislead you, I actually weigh about eighty pounds, I just really layer on the sweaters. It's like a foot of padding.
[ It's a murmur, drawled out and hushed and slow. Maybe just like two percent distracted by his internal guided meditation to not be attracted to extremely hot men who saved your life and got stoned on your couch and helped pull you out of a circling downward despair spiral. ]
[ It occurs to him that all this deep breathing in close quarters is making their space too warmed and even more crowded than it already goddamn is. Dive breaths, slow and steady, intent on not thinking about how nice it is to be close. You deprive yourself of stuff like that for so long and the instant you get anything remotely close you fall apart, that's just great, good job, Nate, is what he thinks to himself, because he sure as Hell can't say it with Ian right there.
Not being able to talk through the issue out loud is almost as bad as the issue itself. ]
Uh...huh.
[ Nate says distractedly, tipping his head toward the door in an attempt to get a better idea of what's going on outside their crowded bubble. Footsteps approach and recede, another pair stop nearby, and Nate tenses up before they follow and echo down the corridor. Their pursuers are starting to get tired of hunting them down.
After the long pause he jumps back to the subject as though he'd never left and taken a brief stroll elsewhere. ]
Must be all that physical construction you do. [ Wryly: ] Vinyl and wood siding.
[ When Nate goes quiet, the closet goes quiet with him. It becomes a muted, muffled affair that reflects sound in that way that only very insulated, very occupied spaces do. Quiet in that way that makes things ironically loud. Breathing. The shifting of clothes. Footsteps come, footsteps go, and the closet itself seems to let out a collective exhale.
You know what's great for not thinking about how really really appealing this would be in any other circumstance? Talking about their bodies. He brought this upon himself, he knows, but what else is new? Ian NoMiddleName Fowler, shooting himself in the foot over interpersonal relationships since 2004.
Just. Take the humor, and keep your shit together.
He hums in agreement, nodding sagely. It lets loose some of his hair in a tiny avalanche where it'd been structurally unsound pushed back out of his face. It falls somewhere between their cheeks, and he knows it's probably gotta be hitting Nate directly in the face. Next comes the careful effort of snaking a hand up their sides, trying not to shuffle them too much, tipping toward it so he doesn't go elbowing the guy somewhere so he can comb the curls back again.
It's bound to repeat in five fucking minutes because his hair be like that, but it's probably a temporary reprieve for getting someone else's hair in his eyes. ]
I also do tile. Duct work. Plumbing. Stop me when you get impressed.
[ Having walked into enormous spider webs before, being wacked in the face with something soft and ticklish isn't outright shocking on its own, except that it comes with a waft of pleasant shampoo scent and he realizes it's Ian's hair. The shifting that follows - once again, the pressing sensation of a body against his own - is accompanied by a little quiet rustling. It takes Nate a few long seconds to realize he's just pushing that ridiculous mass of curls out of the way and he huffs through his nose. ]
A Renaissance man. What can't you do?
[ In fairness, the handyman thing is actually kind of cool. What little Nate knows comes from trial and error rather than a deep understanding of the mechanisms at play, because he doesn't need to fully comprehend plumbing to know that if the level is rising an easier solution is dumping hot water straight in to encourage the damn thing to drain.
One day he'll learn how it works beyond basis identification, but that day is not today, so until then he can continue to ramble aimlessly in an attempt to distract himself. ]
Because seriously, you feel like you bench engine blocks or something.
[ The truth is, a lot of it's pretty simple, it's just intimidating. It's mostly the same design just adapted different ways, it's a few rounds of following the instructions until you get it right. If it's got a user manual or a youtube video, you'd be surprised what you can do for yourself.
Which is what he'd surely love to talk about, except that he's apparently blowing Nate's mind right now. It is so, so difficult to keep a relaxed posture when you're suddenly hyper-aware somebody's feeling up your front with their front. It's a serious mental exercise not to instinctively flex or something. ]
Equal parts flattering and amusing, thank you.
[ Light and pleasantly informative. Quiet and low as he has to keep his voice it's dragging out a little bit more of the semi-permanent rasp he's got going on. He's got the wrong vocal chords for this, apparently. ]
This must be what it's like for you when you get an entire fan club of people talking about your pecs. Please don't tell me you were thinking dad bod, because I really don't wanna be putting off that energy.
[ Okay, so, the low and pleasant voice speaking in his ear is a lot more distracting than Nate anticipated it being, for reasons he doesn't presently want to go into. They're warm and wedged and tensions are already a little high, and maybe blood is a little higher than that. Very suddenly, getting out of the supply closet in the Tibetan temple is a more pressing engagement than he thought.
He can't even appreciate the dig at his pecs again, the apparent go-to target in Ian's repertoire of backhanded compliments, because he's trying not to sound overly defensive when crammed into a small space with someone he likes enough to not want to embarrass himself. ]
I wasn't thinking dad bod, I just also wasn't thinking washboard abs that a Cajun band could play riffs on during Mardi Gras.
[ A wry and somewhat surprised compliment for the metaphor, but unfortunately not vivid enough to keep him distracted for long.
There's a kind of hyper-awareness that comes during situations like this, at least for him. It keeps him stuck in the present, thinking too much about his posture and his body language, the places they touch and the places they don't. Scanning for signals whether he wants to or not.
They really gotta get the fuck out of here — not the least because he's dressed for cold ass Tibet and they're in a hot ass closet with breath and body heat slowly bumping up the thermostat. It would be an absolutely terrible idea to try and shrug off a sweater right now. Damn it.
And, you know what, this is stupid--]
Listen, man, do me a favor— if you're gonna compliment my body do it in like... an old scottish granny accent, or like, redneck farmer. Something really unappealing.
[ Because since when has he ever pretended like Nate isn't super attractive? Who the hell is he trying to fool here? ]
[ Shifting again, Nate manages to eke a little closer to the door until he's well and truly crammed against it, temple resting on wood that's somehow lasted a fourth world war. The hall outside has been silent for a good few minutes now, and presumably the people chasing them have decided they left through a window.
He's only half-paying attention when the request meets him, and the face Nate pulls in the dark should be audible. ]
What? Why?
[ Fingers on the handle he turns it slowly as the tumbler rolls, and cracks the door open. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
It's been a while for him since he cut off sex — not six months, closer to three, and never with somebody he cared about (at the time; him and Kyna grew after that stopped). As a matter of fact, he hasn't been up close and personal with somebody that mattered in a not-strictly-platonic way since... what, undergrad?
Hilariously, and maybe it's a total contradiction, but the fact that he cares amps up the determination not to feel anything about this. No weird intimacy, no prickling at the back of his neck, none of that heartbeat stutter shit, definitely not thinking about kissing on a cliff once. None of that's happening, thank you very much. He is an adult and he is in complete control of his feelings and reactions.
Could say the same thing to you- god damn it Nathan. You are not helping. ]
Don't let me mislead you, I actually weigh about eighty pounds, I just really layer on the sweaters. It's like a foot of padding.
[ It's a murmur, drawled out and hushed and slow. Maybe just like two percent distracted by his internal guided meditation to not be attracted to extremely hot men who saved your life and got stoned on your couch and helped pull you out of a circling downward despair spiral. ]
no subject
Not being able to talk through the issue out loud is almost as bad as the issue itself. ]
Uh...huh.
[ Nate says distractedly, tipping his head toward the door in an attempt to get a better idea of what's going on outside their crowded bubble. Footsteps approach and recede, another pair stop nearby, and Nate tenses up before they follow and echo down the corridor. Their pursuers are starting to get tired of hunting them down.
After the long pause he jumps back to the subject as though he'd never left and taken a brief stroll elsewhere. ]
Must be all that physical construction you do. [ Wryly: ] Vinyl and wood siding.
no subject
You know what's great for not thinking about how really really appealing this would be in any other circumstance? Talking about their bodies. He brought this upon himself, he knows, but what else is new? Ian NoMiddleName Fowler, shooting himself in the foot over interpersonal relationships since 2004.
Just. Take the humor, and keep your shit together.
He hums in agreement, nodding sagely. It lets loose some of his hair in a tiny avalanche where it'd been structurally unsound pushed back out of his face. It falls somewhere between their cheeks, and he knows it's probably gotta be hitting Nate directly in the face. Next comes the careful effort of snaking a hand up their sides, trying not to shuffle them too much, tipping toward it so he doesn't go elbowing the guy somewhere so he can comb the curls back again.
It's bound to repeat in five fucking minutes because his hair be like that, but it's probably a temporary reprieve for getting someone else's hair in his eyes. ]
I also do tile. Duct work. Plumbing. Stop me when you get impressed.
no subject
A Renaissance man. What can't you do?
[ In fairness, the handyman thing is actually kind of cool. What little Nate knows comes from trial and error rather than a deep understanding of the mechanisms at play, because he doesn't need to fully comprehend plumbing to know that if the level is rising an easier solution is dumping hot water straight in to encourage the damn thing to drain.
One day he'll learn how it works beyond basis identification, but that day is not today, so until then he can continue to ramble aimlessly in an attempt to distract himself. ]
Because seriously, you feel like you bench engine blocks or something.
no subject
Which is what he'd surely love to talk about, except that he's apparently blowing Nate's mind right now. It is so, so difficult to keep a relaxed posture when you're suddenly hyper-aware somebody's feeling up your front with their front. It's a serious mental exercise not to instinctively flex or something. ]
Equal parts flattering and amusing, thank you.
[ Light and pleasantly informative. Quiet and low as he has to keep his voice it's dragging out a little bit more of the semi-permanent rasp he's got going on. He's got the wrong vocal chords for this, apparently. ]
This must be what it's like for you when you get an entire fan club of people talking about your pecs. Please don't tell me you were thinking dad bod, because I really don't wanna be putting off that energy.
no subject
He can't even appreciate the dig at his pecs again, the apparent go-to target in Ian's repertoire of backhanded compliments, because he's trying not to sound overly defensive when crammed into a small space with someone he likes enough to not want to embarrass himself. ]
I wasn't thinking dad bod, I just also wasn't thinking washboard abs that a Cajun band could play riffs on during Mardi Gras.
[ So much for truth in advertisement. ]
no subject
[ A wry and somewhat surprised compliment for the metaphor, but unfortunately not vivid enough to keep him distracted for long.
There's a kind of hyper-awareness that comes during situations like this, at least for him. It keeps him stuck in the present, thinking too much about his posture and his body language, the places they touch and the places they don't. Scanning for signals whether he wants to or not.
They really gotta get the fuck out of here — not the least because he's dressed for cold ass Tibet and they're in a hot ass closet with breath and body heat slowly bumping up the thermostat. It would be an absolutely terrible idea to try and shrug off a sweater right now. Damn it.
And, you know what, this is stupid--]
Listen, man, do me a favor— if you're gonna compliment my body do it in like... an old scottish granny accent, or like, redneck farmer. Something really unappealing.
[ Because since when has he ever pretended like Nate isn't super attractive? Who the hell is he trying to fool here? ]
no subject
He's only half-paying attention when the request meets him, and the face Nate pulls in the dark should be audible. ]
What? Why?
[ Fingers on the handle he turns it slowly as the tumbler rolls, and cracks the door open. ]
...coast is clear.
no subject
He nods his head quickly, not toward the left or right but the wall straight ahead of them. )
Okay, come on, let's go--
( So he can matter-bend a nice big gaping hole for them to slip through, and they can make a break for it through the courtyard. )