postictal: (yeah charlie we can be sneaky)
Tim W█████ ([personal profile] postictal) wrote in [community profile] bigapplesauce2015-06-24 09:55 pm

anywhere but here [open]

[tw: blood and bodily injury. This post is the aftermath of the events that occurred over yonder, which means Tim might need some help getting home.]

The lurching sensation of waking suffuses Tim’s body with a hollow ache, leaving him feeling roughly like he just went ten rounds with a cement truck.

While being dragged through the woods.

And on fire.

The rich smell of torn-up earth fills his nostrils with the first shaky indrawn breath, hands fisted into the grass. He’s face-down. God, but he’s face-down. Lying in the grass and the dirt with a pounding headache and a swelling soreness in his lungs, in his side.

Doesn’t take a goddamn genius.

His eyes slit open. There's a dull, scabbed red crusted over the ridges of his knuckles. Just beside him, a shallow mound of smooth white. He reaches carefully with one hand, fingertips running over the cool pale edge of the mask, that old familiarity. He doesn't need to see the empty eyes, the taunting curve of its motionless smile, to know what he's done.

With the bracing flex of fingers pushing against loose-packed dirt, Tim forces himself painfully upright and immediately sinks back to his knees, breathing out a low, agonized hiss. His fingers creep over the sharp stab of pain through his abdomen, and through the tear in his shirt he can see the red puckered skin of - Jesus, did someone stab him?

Yeah, so take the cement truck analogy and add to it, something like triple the magnitude, because that’s about what it feels like.

His legs shake beneath him when he half-crawls, half-drags himself to the nearest tree and plants one hand against it, sucking in deep, slow lungfuls of air between ragged coughs. He tries to swipe a hand through his hair to push it from his face, but his fingers tangle into the clinging mat of - oh, wonderful. Twigs and leaves in his hair. Blood in his hair. The dark stain stretching of his side is unmistakeable; peeling back the blood-dampened layers of clothing doesn't make the sight any easier to stomach. Something pitted in his chest jolts as he grimaces and quickly looks away, breathing heavy and fast through his nose.

Still, and he summons up his bitter sense of not-optimism, it could be worse. He could be waking up with a broken leg. He could be waking up miles out of the state. So, sure, he has no idea how he's getting home like this when he can barely even walk - at least when his leg was broken he could still drive, he still had a car, and it might have been painful as fuck but he'd managed it. Teeth gritted against the agony buried in every tiny movement, he fishes out the phone that is thank god still in his pocket, but the sheer number of text notifications plunges his flicker of relief into ice. Even panicked, Jay wouldn’t send him so many -

Oh.

Oh god damn it.

Fuming, Tim thrusts the phone into his pocket and hopes to god that he's not about to be sick.
bibliophale: (dubious | wary)

[personal profile] bibliophale 2015-06-25 06:03 am (UTC)(link)
It's been some time since Aziraphale's taken a moment to just stroll about the park, and this is as good a morning as any. Now that he's no longer working for the Rebels, and his bookshop hours are as erratic as ever (and Spike is helping with that regularly once again) he's finally free for a quiet, pleasant wander down the winding green-lined path, smiling fondly at all the dear goodness what is that.

The smile slips abruptly from his face as he hurries over to the tree with the young man curled against it, looking so terribly hurt. He has that air about him, he's come to recognize it - a rifty, though not one he knows.

"Oh dear, are you all right?" he asks in genuine concern, crouching as soon as he gets within range. No time for pleasantries, the boy looks in terrible condition. He reaches out, frowning intently. "Let's have a look."
bibliophale: (oh noooooo)

[personal profile] bibliophale 2015-06-25 06:18 am (UTC)(link)
Well that's not a very promising reaction. The poor creature, recoiling like an abused animal. Aziraphale pulls his hands back but only a little, raising them, he hopes pacifyingly.

"Easy, now, I'm not going to hurt you," he says softly, his eyes flickering back and forth as he studies the frightened young man. "I can help. Please." He offers his hand again, not so much reaching but inviting the boy to step nearer, much as one might do with a rabid dog. He chews his lip as he catches a glimpse of the wound he's failing to hide. "Who did this to you?"
bibliophale: (nervous | evasive)

[personal profile] bibliophale 2015-06-25 06:54 am (UTC)(link)
It makes Aziraphale's proverbial heart ache to see someone in this kind of distress, especially refusing help. He hovers for a moment, not sure what to do - healing without consent is not exactly something he's above, though it no longer feels quite right. He should at least let the boy know he can.

"It's all right," he says as gently as he knows how. "You needn't tell me anything, I just want to fix that." He points to the wound in his side. "I can fix it, if you'll let me. It'll be over in an eyeblink. Won't feel a thing. It's a, er, power of mine."

He endeavors to look nonthreatening, not reaching, not beckoning, just waiting to see what he does. Mortals can be so troublesome sometimes - why doesn't he just accept the help? But if living close amongst them has taught him anything, it's that patience is key, as is meeting them on their terms, absurd though they might be.
bibliophale: (oh noooooo)

[personal profile] bibliophale 2015-06-25 07:22 am (UTC)(link)
"Oh!" Aziraphale scoots forward, kneeling over him - he obviously wants space but he won't just let him suffer like this. "You are most certainly not fine. Don't be absurd. Here-" Without any further ado, he sets one hand at the boy's bloodied side and the other at his head, which - well there's something there he can't quite make out, something rather disconcerting, something he certainly can't heal, not without a much more invasive search. Not right now. He heals the wound and takes away a little of the overall ache, then takes his hands back and sets them primly in his lap.

"There," he says. "Wasn't so hard, was it? Now you'll be all right."
bibliophale: (resignation | welp)

[personal profile] bibliophale 2015-06-25 06:25 pm (UTC)(link)
Not even a thank you. Well, he doesn't do this for gratitude anyway. "It's what I do," he answers. The boy does not seem remotely ready to know of angels, so he leaves that out for now. "You needed immediate care and I could provide it, so I did. I'm sorry to have jumped it on you." He manages not to sound reproachful, but earnest in the apology. He really is better at this now, isn't he? Well, he hopes he is.

"My name is Aziraphale," he says kindly. "I came through the Rift too. Is there somewhere I can take you?"
bibliophale: (oh for fuck's sake)

[personal profile] bibliophale 2015-06-25 09:15 pm (UTC)(link)
"Honestly, I don't mean you any harm," says Aziraphale, only now a bit ruffled by the obvious distrust. "If you're still in pain I can help, I just wanted to get the really bad parts fixed, but-" He waves a hand, getting slowly to his feet. He towers over the boy, but he still needs to look nonthreatening, so he takes a healthy step back. "Where are you staying? I'm in the - well, it was the Rebel building, now it's... sort of my building. I took it over when the Base came down. You may have heard."

Or he may not have. Does it matter? The boy is still coiled like he wants to bolt, and Aziraphale isn't about to stop him, but he'd really prefer that didn't happen.

"You can trust me," he says delicately. "What's your name?"
deadeyedchild: this is gonna be the last entry that I'll be posting (smile for the camera)

[meanwhile]

[personal profile] deadeyedchild 2015-06-25 10:29 pm (UTC)(link)
Jay hasn't slept.

He couldn't sleep, couldn't afford to. He sat by the window for hours, like he's done before, phone in hand, checking and checking it in case he dozed through a notification. Waiting for the call or the text. It finally came after the sun was up, and he jarred his body back up and scrambled out the door, down the stairs, half-running, to the park.

He has no idea where in the park Tim is, so he's just been heading in the general direction of where he and Daine had their encounter with him - it - them - last night.

He finally spots him a little ways off the path, looking pinned between a tree and a tall man in a suit, which isn't a good precedent for them, but this tall man is obviously just a man, and not a particularly imposing one either, tall but awkward, soft, bespectacled - sort of Alex-shaped, he thinks with a little chill, if it weren't for the hair.

Anyway it doesn't matter how harmless he is, he needs to not be a part of this.

So Jay tromps forward with distinct purpose. He's lied and faked his way into and out of tons of situations and he can do it now, too.

"Hey!" he calls, waving his arm at Tim, putting on an absurd, disproportionately cheerful smile and thickening his accent noticeably. "There you are, gosh. The tour's at the museum now, man, come on, we're holding everyone up." He takes Tim's arm like this is totally normal they are just TOURISTS FROM DOWN SOUTH EVERYTHING IS NORMAL EVERYTHING IS FINE, nodding up at the taller man who is just looking at him with great bewilderment. "Central Park sure is big huh. Come on, buddy, this way."

And he drags Tim westward.


Aziraphale could have pointed out no, dear, I can see you're not tourists, but he recognized the precious little ruse for what it was, and saw no reason to break it up, really. Alex is going with him willingly, so perhaps it's for the best. He resolves to keep a distant eye on them, just to make sure they end up where he thinks they're heading, both in one piece.
Edited 2015-06-25 22:30 (UTC)
deadeyedchild: when you say "trouble", do you mean...? (excuse the fuck out of you)

[personal profile] deadeyedchild 2015-06-25 10:49 pm (UTC)(link)
"You're welcome," he mutters back, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "I kinda didn't get any sleep last night. Anyway I don't see him coming after us, do you?"

Ah, together again, this is nice.

"I thought it would be preferable to asking if you were okay in front of strangers," he says, one hand reaching up to rub absently at the back of his neck, which doesn't hurt as much as the rest of it. "Are you okay?" Those texts had sounded urgent, but Tim seems - fine, all things considered.
Edited 2015-06-25 22:50 (UTC)
deadeyedchild: so is this where Alex... (you are distorted)

[personal profile] deadeyedchild 2015-06-26 02:04 am (UTC)(link)
Jay glances at him, catches him looking. He dips his head a little, as though self-conscious. "Yeah," he murmurs. "It was my own fault. I saw you and Daine, and she was a wolf, and I didn't know what she was planning to do, so I just..." He shakes his head, shakes off the memory. "I'm okay."

Yeah it was stupid. It's always stupid. Every decision he makes. He knows that.

"I had to... tell her some stuff," he says, cringing preemptively, expecting anger. "She was gonna come back out and look for you if I didn't, I... didn't know what else to do."
deadeyedchild: we need to keep going (this is your last chance)

[personal profile] deadeyedchild 2015-06-26 02:27 am (UTC)(link)
Jay lets out a derisive hiss. Tim blames him for everything and now that he's trying to admit yeah, he did fuck up, has fucked up, is repeatedly fucking up, then it's all 'cute' and 'you dumbass'. Can't win.

"Yeah, well, I shouldn't have jumped between you," he mutters, walking a little quicker. "She wouldn't have hurt you."

She's not like them.

"What did that guy want?" he asks after a moment.
deadeyedchild: waiting on you (the fuck was that)

[personal profile] deadeyedchild 2015-06-26 03:13 am (UTC)(link)
Jay does a small double-take at the indicated stain - he'd noticed it but hadn't really registered it, what it meant, if only because Tim was walking fine.

"Wh- Holy shit," he blurts, fingers tensing in his pockets. "What do you mean he fixed it, what, like with magic?"

That isn't, absurdly, out of the realm of possibility here, and it would be the only way Tim could possibly be maneuvering as well as he is.

The bigger issue here is somebody stabbed Tim. Maybe self-defense, maybe on purpose. He starts walking a little faster, leading them out of the park and angling toward the apartments.
deadeyedchild: in case something happens to me (stay home)

[personal profile] deadeyedchild 2015-06-26 05:25 am (UTC)(link)
Jay looks back at him, taking in the blood and dirt on his clothes and in his hair. He doesn't know what to say, there's not really anything to say. He turns back, walks in silence until they're finally at the building. He unlocks the door and they enjoy a silent elevator ride to their floor, and finally, he's able to let them into their apartment.

"Here," he murmurs, passing over a fresh shirt before heading into the kitchen to make coffee. They're both exhausted but he highly doubts either of them are gonna want to sleep for a while yet.

"What are we gonna do," he says numbly, staring at the coffeemaker.
deadeyedchild: keeping an eye on it from nearby (be alone)

[personal profile] deadeyedchild 2015-06-27 12:14 am (UTC)(link)
"Okay," says Jay. Can't blame him. He pours himself coffee and returns to his post by the window, staring into his cup and listening to the water run.

He's only had half his coffee by the time Tim gets out. He looks over, dull and numb. Good as new, sort of.

"I'm sorry I couldn't do more," he says, like he's been waiting to say it this whole time, when really it just tumbles out.
deadeyedchild: Leave. Now. (I am not a hero)

munception

[personal profile] deadeyedchild 2015-06-27 11:21 pm (UTC)(link)
"Guess not," murmurs Jay. "But I'm still sorry."

Yeah, yeah. He's always sorry. They all are.

"You want some coffee?" he asks, getting up just as there's a knock at the door. He looks at Tim sharply, silently asking for the go-ahead. "Who's there?" he says, raising his voice.

On the other side, a young man answers, "Uh, it's Johnny."

Jay narrows his eyes, still looking at Tim. Johnny sounds familiar, pretty sure Tim's mentioned him before, but that doesn't mean Tim will want to see him.
johnny_truant: (say what now)

[personal profile] johnny_truant 2015-06-27 11:58 pm (UTC)(link)
A friend, then. Okay. Jay doesn't know quite why he feels so weird about that.

But Tim is okay with it, so he goes to open the door.


Johnny had thought there was a different voice in there, but he's no less startled to see someone not-Tim at the door. He blinks at the guy for a second, and the guy blinks back, sort of silently sizing each other up.

He steps in, maneuvering awkwardly around the guy. "Uh," he says, looking at Tim. "Hi." He looks... okay. Unhurt. Somehow. "Are... are you okay?"
johnny_truant: (what the shit)

[personal profile] johnny_truant 2015-06-28 01:08 am (UTC)(link)
Johnny nods vaguely at Jay, who nods right back, looking incredibly unfriendly. He's not inclined to get defensive over it, since there's probably something going on here he doesn't understand, something not his business to know. Anyway it doesn't matter. He's not here for Jay.

"Are you?" he presses, coming closer, looking with slow bewilderment at Tim's side, where the wound should be. "I mean, I... I kind of... kinda stabbed you last night. Is it already healed?"

"Hold on, you stabbed him?!" Jay doesn't sound pleased about that, and Johnny really can't blame him.

Johnny holds up a hand, glancing back at Jay. "I sure as fuck didn't want to," he says, "but it was that or - but you're okay, right?" He turns back to Tim. "I mean... that part's okay. I was so fuckin' scared I'd..." He can't complete the thought, but Tim really does look fine, or at least fine in that he hasn't bled out right now.
Edited 2015-06-28 01:26 (UTC)
johnny_truant: (cute when sad)

:(

[personal profile] johnny_truant 2015-06-28 01:38 am (UTC)(link)
"Yeah." Johnny folds his arms tightly, sort of hugging himself. "I guess I panicked. I'm really glad you're okay, man."

It would take a lot more than something like this to get him to abandon someone, at this point.

"I saw you without the... that mask on," he says. "You looked kinda, just, gone."

Jay's stepped into the kitchen, is pouring coffee, like he can't handle this (he can't).

"Look, you don't have to tell me what's..." Johnny waves a hand vaguely. "I know it's... shit's complicated. I get that. I do."

He really does.

"I just wanted to make sure you were..." Man he's trying really hard not to say anything like still alive. "And I didn't tell anyone," he adds quickly. "My, uh, my friend, well, boyfriend - Gabriel - he healed me up last night. He's, um, kind of an angel. Like, the actual archangel Gabriel. He knows something was up, he's kinda freakin' out at me, actually, but I... he doesn't know about you. And he doesn't have to, if you don't want. But he might be able to help you."

"I'm sorry," Jay interjects. "When you say 'actual archangel', you mean like from the Bible, right? You're dating that Gabriel?"

"Yeah," says Johnny with a short glance at him.

"Okay," says Jay faintly. "Just checking."
Edited 2015-06-28 01:39 (UTC)
johnny_truant: (distant)

[personal profile] johnny_truant 2015-06-28 01:54 am (UTC)(link)
"I know," says Johnny softly. "I know that."

Jay sort of awkwardly re-introduces himself into their space, offering them each a cup of coffee, which Johnny takes in mild confusion.

"Oh, uh," he murmurs. "Thanks." His eyes drift, can't help but find the line of bruises around Jay's neck. He buries any expressive reaction he might have in a sip from the mug.

"Between us, then," he says to Tim. "That's fine. I guess if I get another of those messages I should just stay in?" It's an attempt at humor, weak as hell. He swallows more coffee, staring into the dark liquid. "Is there... anything I can do?" he asks, can't help asking.
deadeyedchild: I'm going to find Tim (eyes open)

[personal profile] deadeyedchild 2015-06-28 06:22 am (UTC)(link)
Jay feels like he can see Tim shutting down. There's more Johnny could ask, more he could be told, but he has the decency not to force it, and even though he's only just arrived Jay can see this has nowhere else to go. After a moment's hesitation he reaches out and touches Johnny's arm lightly.

"You should probably go," he murmurs. "We really need to just..." He shrugs. Talk? Sleep? Probably neither. "Just don't tell anyone about this, okay?"

Now he sounds like Tim. Funny how that happens, how they all start to blend together after so much time.

Johnny blinks at him, looking startled but not necessarily like he's planning to argue. "Okay," he agrees after a few moments. He seems to get this unexpectedly well. Poor guy. He looks at Tim. "We'll talk, okay?"

Yeah, thinks Jay, good luck with that one, buddy.
deadeyedchild: I know you're there (don't follow me)

[personal profile] deadeyedchild 2015-06-28 05:19 pm (UTC)(link)
Johnny doesn't really want to leave so soon, but - well, he didn't bank on this other guy being here (do they live together, or what? he didn't think Tim trusted anyone enough to live with them more than a few days in a hotel), and yeah, fair enough, Tim probably needs more time to... recover.

He gives Tim a solitary, awkward pat on the shoulder and hands the half-finished shitty coffee to Jay. "Thanks for the coffee," he murmurs, turning to head back to the door.

-

Jay takes the mug and sets it down on the kitchen counter, feeling subtle relief that Johnny's just going agreeably. He hears the door open but not close, and he looks up to see Johnny hovering there.

"This'll stay between us," he says to Tim. "You can count on that, okay?"

And he goes without waiting for an answer.

Jay feels an irrational swell of resentment. Very fuckin' noble, random stranger, keeping our secrets. He doesn't trust that kind of freely offered kindness anymore and he knows Tim doesn't either.

He looks back at Tim. "Do you trust him?" he asks bluntly.
deadeyedchild: Leave. Now. (I am not a hero)

[personal profile] deadeyedchild 2015-06-28 07:26 pm (UTC)(link)
Jay recoils slightly and looks at the floor for a while, only half-paying attention to Tim as he moves around the room.

It takes him a few moments.

"What are you doing?" he asks, looking up in surprise.
deadeyedchild: in case something happens to me (stay home)

[personal profile] deadeyedchild 2015-06-28 07:39 pm (UTC)(link)
"Oh." Jay loks back at the floor. "Okay. Yeah. That makes sense."

It does. They could each do with space. Separation from each other. Especially now.

"You can take some of the dishes or whatever, I don't... need all of them," he mumbles with a weary gesture at the kitchen. He's trying not to look kicked, rejected, because that's not what this is, he tells himself fiercely, it's not, and he really doesn't need Tim scorning him for being clingy or something, not right now.
deadeyedchild: keeping an eye on it from nearby (be alone)

[personal profile] deadeyedchild 2015-06-28 07:59 pm (UTC)(link)
Jay snorts, forcing himself to take it as a joke just for convenience's sake. "Okay," he says. "Well, uh. I'll be here." Obviously. "Let... let me know if you need anything, I guess."

Why is this so awkward. It'll probably be a relief to have his own space again. As much as he dreads it. As much as he fears just sitting and waiting and doing nothing for days on end, again.