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Post by Zephyr on Jan 14, 2013 0:18:50 GMT -5
It doesn’t occur to Silas that his protection isn’t needed or wanted by Matthias. Deep down, he knows that Cesan won’t hurt him, but there’s a part of Silas that irrationally hates the guy because he gets something that Silas wants so badly he can’t stand it. The other man’s tone isn’t appreciated by the werewolf and the beast scratches at his skin, growling and thrashing, and Matthias is the only thing that keeps it back. Silas abandons his vigil, then, falling back onto the bed, fingers going white as he grips onto the bed, eyes never leaving Cesan’s form.
Sure, it occurs to him that he should be sorry for acting like such an asshole. He can’t be a bad guy if Matthias likes him enough to keep him around…but Silas cannot find it in him to like him, not with the wolf’s possessiveness and jealousy writhing away in his gut. He stays silent then, following the man’s path across the room. The thanks takes Silas aback. He can’t tell if the guy is being genuine or not and he just stares, knowing he should offer the guy his couch or something, but he feels glued with the bed.
He doesn’t move until Cesan flips off the light, and Silas curls in on himself, burying his face in his hands as he pushes the wolf back. He doesn’t lose control often, but he came dangerously close that time. He rocks back and forth for a moment, the growl rumbling through his chest a constant thing. Laying back down with Matthias would help, he knows, but he can’t bear to see the look in the other man’s eyes. This man…the one he’d just effectively chased out of the apartment is the man Matthias is with. Silas doesn’t know the depth of the hunters feelings for the Scotsman, and he really doesn’t want to know.
But he just can’t bear Matthias being upset at him for that, not when they’ve just come to some tentative agreement.
“I’m sorry.” The words are small and strained, managed out through the growls as he struggles to push the wolf back. It just wants to go after Cesan, but Silas knows better. “I should have…let him talk to you…something.” The tremble that goes through his body is a physical thing. When he finally turns to look at Matthias, he realizes that his protectiveness over Matthias hadn’t completely been because Cesan was stressing him out…that’s only half the story.
“I can’t…” Speak properly, apparently. He reaches over to grab Matthias’ hand; squeezes it lightly. There are so many emotions in him that he isn’t sure what to let out. Instead he just manages another weak, “Sorry” before he falls silent, not knowing exactly what he’s apologizing for.
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Post by Matthias Walker on Jan 14, 2013 19:50:33 GMT -5
With the way that they are acting, from what Matthias can make out of the sharp tension in the lines of Silas’s shoulders and spine and the unhappy conclusions he can draw from the coldness in Cesan’s voice, it should not come as a surprise when, in the wake of the silent standoff or whatever this is, Cesan turns to go. And maybe it isn’t, but doesn’t make Mattie feel any less guilty—as if the very fact that they are so important make him responsible for this, as if he can control how this plays out. Blue eyes narrow in frustration, lips thinning at his own inability to do anything other than sit there, an invalid in every sense of the world, his gaze dropping to the bandages wrapped with surgical precision around his leg.
He looks back up at Cesan when the man reaches the door, crooks a halfhearted smile at him. “Yeah—thanks,” follows the other man out of the room, and in his wake the silence and darkness come as welcome relief.
Blinking until the darkness turns softer and shadowed shapes take form is an easy excuse against meeting Silas’s eyes for time being. Not that the doctor seems very willing to look at him either, and Matthias knows he should do something about it: There is nothing quite like being crippled with a werewolf strung-out and tense in the same room to stir urgency, but the silence is still deafening and reaching out to Silas or speaking seem strangely irreverent. The wolf has never been feared, anyway, and Mattie is preoccupied with thoughts of Cesan and the demon, however fantastic they are considering the intentional vagueness of his description.
Silas’s soft apology takes him utterly by surprise.
Still, he automatically turns his hand to Silas’s, blue eyes meeting the werewolf’s, allowing the distraction. What Silas means to fix with his apology, the broken-off fragment of a sentence, Matthias has no idea, but with the tightly-wound tension draining from his shoulders, he cannot find it in him to be angry—however easy it would be to blame Silas, he’s missed him too much to jeopardize things again. “Chill, it’s fine,” he sighs, does not mention that he is glad Cesan came, selfishly, regardless of the outcome, regardless of the strain, is grateful that he matters that much, “I promise, I’m not gonna—” Lips twist in sarcastic amusement, “—throw a fucking temper tantrum or anything. It’s fine.”
It’s fine is becoming all too familiar a mantra, and Matthias ignores it in favor of sinking down into the sheets again, a little stiff and over-cautious of his leg, rolls over onto his side pointedly, the presentation of his back to Silas softened by the gentle tug on the werewolf’s hand to pull him down properly too. “Just want to sleep,” which is true; the exhaustion that settles over him is more than just physical, and if it helps to have Silas there, well—it’s only for one night. Silas’s hand is caught between his palm and chest, and he squeezes his eyes shut, refuses to think on the implications of one night. Still, muffled into the pillow, “’m not mad at you, promise. ’s fine, okay?”
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Post by Zephyr on Jan 14, 2013 21:31:11 GMT -5
Matthias’ voice is exhausted, and all at once, Silas is all too aware of his own selfishness. The reassurances that come from the other man’s mouth do little to sooth Silas when he realize that it’s his fault the man is so fucking exhausted. He knows he shouldn’t stay. He should untangle his hand from Matthias’ and go sleep on the couch, because even if they aren’t actually going to do anything…he knows how it feels; to feel like you aren’t enough, like you aren’t good.
But Matthias’ words are soft, and Silas selfishly lets himself be pulled in, figuratively and literally. The wolf slide beneath the sheets, molding himself to the line of Matthias’ spine. They’ve slept like this so many times before, with Matthias at his back. This feels different though, but Silas doesn’t stop to analyze it. He laces his fingers with Matthias’, pressing their hands against his chest and sliding his left hand under the other man’s head, pressing his lips to the nape of Matthias’ neck lightly.
It doesn’t matter to Silas that he’s fully clothed. He’s just wanted this, for so long, and he pulls Matthias tighter against his chest, listening as the other man’s breathing evens out as the darkness falls over them…and he doesn’t know if Matthias is sleeping, but Silas’ voice is a ghost of a whisper against the kid’s ear. “I’m never going to leave you alone. I’m never going to stop fighting for you.” He kisses Matthias’ neck, squeezing the hunter’s hand lightly. “I love you.”
The admission is a flutter of breath whispered close to Matthias’ ear. It took him time to see it. It’s always been so goddamn easy with the hunter. When nothing else was easy, or constant, there was always Matthias…and Silas had been so blind, so sure that it was Nathan he loved. When things fell apart, it had been Matthias who picked up the pieces, and Silas had been such a goddamn idiot.
He hopes Matthias heard his words, and he lets himself melt into the other man, burying his head in his neck and squeezing his eyes shut. “You deserve better.”
Silas is not looking forward to the morning, doesn’t want this beautiful boy taken away from him, so he holds on like his life depends on it, not willing to let sleep take him so he can feel Matthias’ heart beating beneath his palm, lips pressed lightly to the other man’s pulse as seconds stretch into minutes and then into hours.
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