it's so easy to pretend.

     “And here I thought I was special. You’re killin’ me, Dulce.”

     John was nothing if not intuitive. His suspicions about Dave’s actions were completely on point. The blonde was indeed subtly apologizing for the incident, though perhaps considering that the incident in question was due to John’s own blunder that it should be him doing the apologizing instead. But Dave understands that what he did was not to be taken lightly–he struck fear into a Contractor. Such a phenomenon is completely insane and the chances of Dave being able to do that were astounding to say the least. Statistically speaking, it was a complete anomaly.

     But that’s why Dave had been easing John back into his presence–that and admittedly he did have an ulterior motive. Nothing Dave does is without reason after all. Being in John’s home, on his territory, gave Dave better opportunity to snoop around, or at least that’s what he would claim should anyone ask. But truthfully, his actions were more geared in the direction of simple pleasures. John is as close as Dave has ever gotten to an actual relationship and thus all the benefits that come with that are Dave’s to indulge in, the kissing, cuddling, hand holding, laughter, security, all of it. As selfish as it may be, all he truly wants is to keep that, to keep their charade going and hope that perhaps some day it won’t be a charade anymore.

     “Did I ever say you weren’t?” John replied, nuzzling the back of Dave’s neck. “Just because my dad got to me first doesn’t mean your bath time cuddles can’t be special too.”

     John figured that Dave would try snooping around his apartment. Considering he had done the same thing and gotten caught, he wasn’t really sure what he would do in the event that he found Dave rifling through his things without a good excuse. He’d play it off, probably; return the favor of not destroying the facade they had so carefully created together. But at least then they would be even and John wouldn’t have that lingering sense of paranoia, wondering when Dave would get fed up with their little arrangement and decide it was time for phase 2.

     The sentiment is shared, though. This is the closest John has ever gotten to truly loving someone. He can’t love any more-- he can fear now, he can’t love-- but even before his powers manifested, he had always been the odd kid. He’d come to terms with not having a significant other a long time ago, but with Dave, it felt... nice. The late-night house calls, the suspicious figure crawling into bed only to snuggle right up to his side, the presents and the dates and the smiles shared over a restaurant table.

     “Yeah, babe. ’m comfortable, no worries.”

     This is a genuinely nice moment between the two of them–one that, unbeknownst to John, Dave would probably later sketch out, just so that he’d be able to remember it.  Dave didn’t know if John felt the same as him, but he assumed that from the way John’s body slumped against his own, and the gentle, steady breathing the two of them had in common, that John was enjoying this as well. 

     Dave should be aware that if he sketched it out, John would eventually see it. But if he was able to voice his opinion about the drawing? He’d probably say it was lovely. His ability allowed him to remember everything he’d heard, but a visual depiction of this event would be just as nice.

     And for the record, John was enjoying this.

     “Nope, sorry. My dad already beat you to bathing with your favorite black-haired, blue-eyed beauty.” He snickered, teasing right back. John felt more comfortable being in his apartment after the thing with Dave’s shower, and whether it was intentional or not, he’d noticed the subtle things Dave had done to make him feel better or safer in his presence. Allowing John to be the one sitting in the back, letting John arrange their dates, never surprising him with visits to his apartment. If John didn’t know him better, he would’ve said that Dave was apologizing without directly addressing the incident.

     “You demand one? I don’t know if I like bein’ ordered around by ya’ babe,” he replies, his tone purely joking. “I didn’t want t’ make ya’ feel bad on our date, besides I thought it was pretty funny.” He leans in to nuzzle John’s neck with a sort of tenderness that he rarely exhibited. “I’ll make you a portrait some time, yeah. But just like the rest of these,” he brushes his fingertips across one of the pages, “it’ll only be in ink. ’m not the type t’ color them, can’t actually. They always look bad when I try.” Now that part was honest, he stuck to just a pen, no pencils, or markers, or paint, just pure ink that he would only shade with but never truly color.

      “Get used to it,” John teased in response. A part of him still felt timid-- what if this was a trap?-- but John lightly nuzzled his cheek against Dave’s when the blond tucked his face against his neck. It was odd-- the blond had never shown him this much affection before. But the ravenette certainly wasn’t complaining. It was much better to have Dave’s lips softly brushing over his pulse point than the cold edge of a knife.

     “I don’t mind if it’s only in ink. Whatever you make, I am sure I’ll like it.” He said, his hand ghosting up to twine with Dave’s, their linked fingers resting against the sketchbook page. John listened with growing amusement to Dave’s story, eventually just chuckling as it got too ridiculous at the end.

     “I’m sure the pizza guy would refuse to deliver after that. He would be so sad that he missed out on two attractive guys that delivering to my apartment would just be too painful.” He grinned. At the last part of Dave’s ramble, though, his smile twitched. 

      A bright future, he’d said. What a joke. What sort of future did any Contractor have? And the two of them... How long would they be able to keep this up? John had already messed up once, and at twice, he was sure that Dave would lose his patience. The black haired male still couldn’t figure out what had inspired him to make such an illogical choice, but as long as he was breathing, he wouldn’t criticize the decision.

     “...I love you, D.” He murmured after a little bit. It was probably the first time those words had let either of their mouths, but even then it didn’t seem like it was enough. There was more he had to say. More he wanted to say. But he left it at that, along with a muted whisper against Dave’s jaw.

i didn’t really say it the way i meant to. what i meant to say was that we can feel things but we suppress them because they’re illogical. feeling better... was the logical thing to do. i was already feeling bad, so using your words was the fastest way to ‘cheer myself up’. that probably doesn’t make any more sense to you and seems equally as redundant but hey, at least i tried.

i am honestly not sure how to describe our situation. but the best way to put it is that we are working for rival organizations that would do anything to see to the end of each other. sort of like romeo and juliet. except we’re not horny teenagers trying to get in each other’s pants. sort of.

and if we’re being totally honest, he’s the dangerous one between the two of us. he has a slate that’s been soaking in blood for as long as i’ve heard of him. me, on the other hand? i haven’t harmed a single person. someone else simply did it for me.

     He supposed that lacking that fear is a major part about why their kind is so dangerous, because the only thing that keeps them in line is their own desires–what they find most beneficial to themselves and nothing else. Even some, such as Dave, weren’t afraid to die. And honestly, the way Contractors constantly tore down one another at such a rampant rate, he was certain he wouldn’t live to be an old man, not as things currently stood. But he attempted not to dwell on that too much.

     “Sure, babe. You can look through the whole thing if ya’ want. Just would'a been nice of you t’ ask.” The only thing pertaining to himself within the sketchbook was perhaps his obvious attachment to his brother, as well as his–was it just fascination or perhaps attachment too?–for his partner, Hal, and of course, John himself. There was nothing on the Bloody Knight nor the Syndicate unless you count the various, deceased Contractors within the pages.

     Dave moved, sliding into bed next to John, allowing from the waist down to be covered in his blanket before he handed over the sketchbook. Dave is certainly an odd Contractor, so easily giving into whims as he does, and perhaps he is ruled by emotions more than he is able to perceive or admit to. But that’s speculation for another time.

     He doesn’t make any move to startle or unnerve John further. Even if they were ‘boyfriends’ he, at this moment, keeps to himself whereas every other time they’d been together he hadn’t. He was probably just catering to the other’s fear, not allowing himself to bury John in it deeper than he already had gone.

     He slid out from under the covers when Dave gave him permission. He was scared-- no, terrified to turn his back on the blond, but he’d used Dulce not John and that meant they were boyfriends again, didn’t it? John swallowed, skin pale as he took the few steps back to the dresser he’d put the sketchbook back into, taking out the well-worn binding of pages only to turn around. The process itself only took a few seconds, but the steps back towards him felt like they took ages.

     John crawled back into the bed. Despite the way his heart fluttered in his chest as he felt his feet brush Dave’s legs, he did the logical thing; he pressed himself to the stoic male, tucking his shoulder into Dave’s chest the way they normally sat. He had to re-convince himself of the facade, that it was safe, that he didn’t have anything to fear. Because if his fear overcame his better senses, John would do the irrationally rational thing.

     As much as he had suddenly grown to fear him, John could also recognize that he loved him. And right now, the last thing he wanted to do was hurt Dave. He owed him at least that much for sparing him, right?

     Thin fingers opened the sketchbook that John had propped in his lap, the blankets softening the hard edge of the spine that rested between his thighs. He flipped past the drawings he’d already seen-- most of them of the aforementioned deceased contractors-- before he got to where he’d left off. There were a bunch of sketches of a broad-shouldered guy with spiky hair and a distant look to him; lots of different poses but all the same expression. Another seemingly male figure was also present, but they looked more... disinterested rather than distant. 

     He turned the page and was... not surprised, but pleasantly reminded of the hypothesis he’d made about also being present in the sketchbook. John noted how many of the drawings he was smiling in-- did he always smile so much around Dave?-- his fingers very faintly brushing against the page to smooth it down as he examined the details of his own face.

     Dave could practically feel John trembling against him and the way his voice came almost strident. It was as if the other Contractor was afraid of him. Such an odd occurrence, a rare one. He briefly wondered what it was like for the other, to finally feel only to have it be such a negative emotion, and he also wondered if it was this difference in John that caused Dave’s attachment to him, that coaxed him into continuing their game like he did.

     And then his mind came back to the words someone had once spoken to him, about how he should just run away with John–as if that was something they could so easily do. It by no means would be easy, but it would be possible, and given the correct motivation, perhaps spurred on by his own, currently intangible, emotions, they could do it. But such things were so irrational to think about, and yet as Dave’s half lidded eyes kept their gaze on John, he didn’t find it necessary to be so logic driven.

     “You lost,” he finally murmurs against John’s lips. But then he pulls away from him, completely, not making any move to harm the dark haired male, quite literally turning his back on him instead. Rummaging around in his drawers, he pulls out a pair of boxers and slides them on, tossing the towel away carelessly.

     “I’ll forget this ever happened, Johnny boy,” he hums, and there’s a ‘slip up’ of his own in which he called the other by his first name, one that John had failed to ever mention to him. “If you forget I said that,” he adds, finally turning back to the other Contractor.

      When Dave said he’d lost, John shivered. He could taste death in those words. His tongue darted out to lick his lips again, nearly sliding against Dave’s since the blond was so close. But he leaned back too soon, he stepped away too soon, he was moving too fast and John was too slow and all of the sudden it was very clear whose game they were playing.

     “Forget what? I have no idea what you’re talking about, D.”

     It’s not like he had much of a choice. The way his voice shook was a liability. A weakness. Something that Dave was so confidently exploiting, mocking him by simply dressing in John’s presence. Sure, they were ‘boyfriends’ and they should’ve been comfortable with one another well into their relationship, it was still... strange. Abnormal. Dangerous. Dave was dangerous and both of them were well aware of it.

     John’s world was made of grays and blacks now; no other color except for the pitch-like shade of fear. For fear to have been the first emotion re-gifted to him, John was nearly bitter. But he couldn’t be because that one hadn’t yet been returned. The blue-eyed boy swallowed hard as he carefully moved further towards Dave’s bed, taking a hesitant seat. When he wasn’t stopped, he scooted back towards the headboard, took the blankets, and slid himself into them. The soft, familiar cover felt like a strange caress now. John didn’t feel welcome anymore.

     “Will you show me the other drawings?” He asked quietly. His fists gripped the blanket with nearly-white knuckles, but his eyes never left Dave’s face. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. I want to see them.” His gaze flickered. 

AND DON’T WORRY ABOUT TAKING ADVANTAGE OF THIS. WE BOTH HAVE SOMEONE TO GAIN HERE. SO I WILL KEEP THE OFFER UP. IF YOU EVER NEED SOMEONE TO HANG OUT WITH OR TALK WITH I AM UP FOR THAT. EVEN IF IT WILL BE A SIMPLE EXCHANGE OF LOGICAL INFORMATION.

     The rival Contractor’s facade was weak, pathetic really. Dave should just cover his mouth and get to the gritty part of his job. That’s what he should do, that’s what the logical side of his mind told him to do. Get the jump on John before he has the time to screw him over later.

     But as Dave’s crimson eyes scanned John’s–the first time they’d truly made eye contact–, the blonde felt himself overcome with the desire to be irrational, to keep running with their charade, to keep pretending that John is his boyfriend and that they two of them would live happily ever after. They wouldn’t, but he wanted to pretend.

     “Some ’re characters, some ’re people I’ve seen, places I’ve been to,” he murmurs. “I’d be so embarrassed if you got t’ the end though.” Of course what he says is a trap, seeing if John had gotten to the section about him. The whole sketchbook was comprised almost entirely and exclusively of other Contractors, along with a few other things here and there when Dave’s mind had time to wonder. Of course, three people were a constant reoccurrence in the book, namely his older brother, his partner, and John–those who held the most significance in his life.

     The moment Dave’s fingers touched John’s face was the moment his heart leaped into his throat. He stiffened notably, unable to control his instinctive reaction to a hostile hand; it was logical. It was logical to imagine that Dave would drop the act now, that everything would be over, that John had lost and it would cost him his life. A choked breath left him as Dave taunted him, familiar but dangerous lips passing his own like the edge of a sharp knife. His eyes were unfocused for a moment, Dave’s skin like a hot and milky blur before his eyes as his brain shifted to high gear. Fear wasn’t an emotion he felt-- only the adrenaline that made everything so fast and so slow at the same time.

     It gave an odd clarity to the color of Dave’s eyes, too, once John looked up.

     He honestly wasn’t sure what happened. What led the Bloody Knight to keep lying, to keep pretending, to spare his life and seemingly berate him for his sloppiness by asking a question that was clearly a test. John licked his lips nervously, tongue darting across the pale pink skin as if testing it was still there before he answered with a quiet, almost hoarse “no, I didn’t.” His hands were frozen at his sides, nails softly drawing across the fabric of his boxers. Usually he wore jeans. The wearing of calcium against woven denim was a tactile sensation that calmed him. Not now. He was scared.

     He was scared.

AND I’LL GO INTO MY ICONS FOLDER AND BASED ON THE ICON WITH THAT NUMBER, I’LL WRITE A STARTER.

yes. something like that. but even if they knew that i would not hurt them, given it was the logical thing to do, they would always fear one thing: “what if he knows something that i don’t and i become a liability without warning? what if he kills me because of a lie someone else told, but he took it as the truth? would he just kill me in cold blood?” the answer to the last question, given many circumstances, is yes. that is a reason, among many, that they fear me.

and... though it may not seem like the logical decision, it would be illogical to take advantage of your offer. at the very least it would be impolite.

“Damn, seems like ya’ caught me.”

Dave easily played along with John. It was almost as if the two were in sync with one another. Each reaction having a consequence but still things slid into place and all hostility between them was kept at bay. If they were on the same side, perhaps they would’ve made an exceptional team, but as they stood, they couldn’t falter.

As much as Dave would’ve preferred to simply be wrapped up in John, to forget about everything but the other and just how wonderful it felt to have their bodies pressed close, he knew he couldn’t allow his guard to drop more than a tad. As adorable as John may have appeared, Dave knew that he was dangerous, he was fully aware of that fact. And so it just wasn’t rational to pretend that John was completely innocent.

“That sounds perfect. And trust me. I am good at figuring people out.” Or rather, he’s good at making people spill their guts so that he doesn’t have to figure them out so much as listen to them do it for him.

The rest of the night is spent making half-hearted comments about the original Jurassic Park. The drinks are finished and the storm subsides; John ‘falls asleep’ in Dave’s arms to make sure he wouldn’t try anything suspicious. When he isn’t killed or harmed or otherwise maimed, the man allows himself to relax somewhat, waiting for Dave to make his move.

“I don’t mind the company, babe.” Again, what he says is the truth. As John was coming around to find their charade a pastime, so was Dave. They were supposed to be enemies–are enemies. But at the moment, Dave didn’t feel on edge with John like he might’ve with any other contractor.

It was as if he was already starting to get as used to John as he was to his partner, only with John he was smiling and chuckling and he could pretend to be how he was before he became a Contractor. And it was almost too easy to slip into that roll, to pretend to be nothing more than the nice guy across the hall.

It was wrong.

Because he wasn’t a nice guy. He’d taken lives and tortured even innocents all for his own benefit, so that he didn’t have to watch his back at every step he made. It wasn’t even like he was forced into it, he could’ve chosen to die or he could’ve attempted to run. But those options were just so preposterous in his logic-run mind. 

So, he became what numerous people would call a villain.

“Yeah, Jurassic World,” he responds, though his response comes slow making it obvious that he’d been distracted by his own thoughts. He quickly catches himself. “I dunno’. It could be shitty, but if it is, we can just make fun of it the whole time. Likewise if it’s good we can just enjoy ourselves, yeah?”

“Distracted by my super charming face?” John asked. It was a tease, of course; he could tell that Dave was wrapped up in thoughts other than himself; it didn’t make sense for him to be thinking about John especially.

But John was certainly thinking about Dave.

He knew that the man had killed. He knew that he had murdered and tortured and committed heinous acts in the name of the Syndicate. But being wrapped up in Dave’s arms, snuggled securely against his chest, it seemed like the Bloody Knight was just a dream. John did the logical thing; he ignored Dave’s alter ego and simply enjoyed the blond’s company.