✟ ｓａｎｃｔｕａｒｙ ✟

Jax bristles just a little at the annoyed tone in Patrick’s voice, even though he doesn’t quite understand it. Is he worried that he’ll…cheat on him or something? Is he jealous? Or is this really just about protecting him. He’ll give Pat the benefit of the doubt, he knows a little about the type of man Ivan is, at least according to Beau. Dangerous for sure but…is he really one to judge?

He lets out a soft sigh,

“Don’t…” He says carefully, “Please don’t yell.” Jackson looks at his hands and adjusts his position on the couch, “I know–I know a little about what he does, yes, I mean–from what Beau’s told me and everything. It’s not like–I wasn’t calling him up to hang out with him, or anything, I just ran into him and we got talking.” He doesn’t think Pat would be someone to tell him he couldn’t hang out with someone either.

-

he isn’t the controlling type, patrick doesn’t want to be that kind of jerk but the knee-jerk reaction of fear everytime ivan gets mentioned sends him into that territory. patrick has done horrible things, he’s sold drugs to struggling single mothers and helped emotionally fragile teens inject correctly but - he’s paid for that. he served his time, and spent hours in therapy and in rehab. 

he changed for the better. ivan doesn’t seem bothered about that.

“i’m not fuckin’ yelling,” patrick’s voice is raised however, and he’s pretty loud - what he considers talking loudly, others would probably call yelling. “i’m just - jesus, jax, i’m scared for you,” he licks his lips. “you’re not taking what i say seriously. even stefan’s a pussycat compared to a hired killer!”

he runs a hand through his hair, drinking some more and putting his food down. “the people he deals with? they’re the worst kind of bad. they’ll mail you back to me in fucking pieces, jax, and i’m not - i’m not having that!”

Jax gently pats Patrick’s leg as he seems to take something down the wrong pipe–luckily he doesn’t start choking or anything. He pours them a little more wine and hands him his glass, sipping from his own as well. He pushes a few strands of hair away from his face, taking a few more bites of food before putting the bowl down.

He understand what Pat means about Ivan, of course he does. He’s patched together enough about the guy from Stefan and Beau alike to understand who the man is. But…wouldn’t it be wrong to judge him for that? Especially since Jackson doesn’t know Ivan very well. He can’t just take everything from other people and build an opinion. He certainly wouldn’t want that done to him.

And the fact that Pat’s trying to protect him is sweet but, “I am, I mean. I know.” He nods, “He’s been nothing but nice towards me, Patty, there’s nothing to worry about. I promise.”

-

patrick takes a sip of his own wine and nearly spits it out only a few moments later because he’s nice? he has his own opinions of ivan that are wholly informed by what he knows, and what patrick knows is this ; 

number 1, the man is a monster.

number 2, he is dangerous.

number 3, by being dangerous, he immediately puts everyone around him in danger.

that includes jax. 

“nothing to worry about?” he says incredulously, annoyance clear in patrick’s voice. “jackson, it doesn’t matter if he’s nice to you. do you know what he does for a living? if they still had the death penalty, they’d sentence him twenty times over!” he isn’t mad at jackson, more at the situation. “he’ll put you in danger,”

Jax smiles as Patrick sits down. He’s hoping, maybe, he can spend the night once they’re done eating. Patty looks perfect to crawl up against, snuggle along his chest and maybe put a movie on or something. He really has missed him, wanting to just spend time being around him, even if they don’t even talk. He hadn’t realized how much Patrick made him feel whole and complete until he was gone.

He settles into the corner of the couch with his bowl of stew, taking breaks to munch on some bread. They eat quietly, and Jax can tell that Pat’s enjoying the meal. He feels warm and content that he made something that was homey and something Patrick really liked. He’ll have to thank Ivan again for the pointers.

“Wasn’t too bored,” He tells him, “Just school, shopping with Beau–he’s met a new boy named Vincent at one of these boutiques around here. Totally beautiful but, Beau’s crazy, so we’ll see how that goes.” He laughs softly, “Saw Ivan a few times at Stefan’s bakery, but other than that? Just business as usual.”

-

“that’s true, lets see if he manages to scare him off,” patrick really doesn’t know all that much about beau apart from what jackson tells him, and what little information stefan has divulged about him before the two parted ways. he know he’s histrionic, and manipulative, and that at least three people believe he’s got some form of personality disorder but - he’s jackson’s friend, so he can deal with him at least for a while.

he’s eating another spoonful when ivan comes up, choking on a little meat and he frowns because...didn’t he tell jax to be wary? pat isn’t about to go telling the guy who isn’t really even his boyfriend who he can and can’t hang out with but ivan...no. even patrick knows that he’s a mean son-of-a-bitch, and he used to deal heroin.

“ivan?” the taller questions, frown still on his face. “you...jackson, you really gotta be careful around that guy. he’s - he’s not like...other people,”

Jax won’t tell him tonight, he doesn’t want to ruin the first night he’s had Pat home with something dark and disgusting from his past. But he does make a conscious decision to actually want to share that with him. And soon. Before it was just a random thought in the back of his mind, a want, a maybe, but now? It’s solidified. Jax trusts Patrick more than anyone, and he will tell him. Because the sooner he shares everything, the sooner they can learn how to take the next steps together.

And he really wants that.

He smiles towards Pat when he says he wants to change his clothes and nods softly, pressing himself up on his toes to press a brief kiss to his lips again before the taller disappears. He turns the stew off on the stove and gets out the perfect bowls to serve it in. He gives them both hearty helpings and takes the bread, stew and a bottle of wine into the living room.

He sits down on the corner of the couch, waiting for Pat to return. “So your trip was good overall?” He asks when he comes into the room.

-

he comes back out in a black sweater that’s slightly textured to the point it makes patrick itch a little when he shifts awkwardly. food is ready and he sits across from jackson on the couch, too-long legs crossed as he moves to face him, knee oddly hanging off the side of the couch. patrick can’t really sit normally on anything that isn’t just a chair - breakfast bars and high-stools are the worst.

the stew is hot and flavourful and he does everything in his power not to moan around a mouthful. it’s the best and most substantial thing patrick’s had for a week, after living solely of fast food and beer for most of the convention.

“yeah! met some great artists, did some good work, i have some pics - i’ll show em you later,” patrick pats his left pectoral as he talks. “got some new ink to! i think you’ll like it,” it’s a mempo, dark red and black yet offset by the addition of cherry blossoms scattered around it, as if on the wind. pat would be lying if he said that it wasn’t partially inspired by jax.

“what about you? have a good week? hope you weren’t too bored,”

Jax shakes his head at the stream of compliments coming out of Patrick, as if he could ever be used to it. He smiles gently over at him and turns to the food on the stove to tend to it. It’s almost done, at this rate, and takes the bread out of the oven and sets it aside to cool.

“The stew just needs another ten minutes, then we’ll be all set to eat.” He tells him, pulling his hair back into another bun because strands are getting in the way. He moves to lean against the counter near Pat, wondering if they should have wine with this. Maybe a red? He’s not sure what goes best.

He looks up at him with a fond smile, reaching out to touch his arm, “I know you have…and I know I haven’t exactly uh, told you everything? about my past and why I…handle certain things the way I do but. I promise, one of these days, I’ll open up and let you know everything.” He smiles. “I trust you…more than anyone, I think.”

-

patrick doesn’t really need to be told everything in explicit detail to understand certain things - he knows that people raising their voices and heavy hands spook him like a rabbit in the headlights. he knows sometimes jax freezes when guys in puts their hands on his waist when he hasn’t expected it, or press against him too closely. the problem is men.

still, he appreciates that jackson trusts him enough to want to tell him. “whenever you’re ready, no rush,” pat says gently, reaching over to gently squeeze his shoulder with one of those slightly-goofy smiles. “well, i’m honoured you hold me so highly. i hope i can continue to keep up these massive expectations you’re placing on me,” he’s back to teasing but, there is a kernel of earnest. pat is happy to be...special, to jackson. it makes him feel all gooey inside.

“ten minutes? i got time to put on some fresher clothes? these kind of stink and i don’t wanna ruin our welcome home date-night dinner,”

Patrick has been incredibly respectful of their personal space, which means the world to Jax. He hasn’t exactly had the chance to…tell him everything about what’s happened in his past, isn’t sure when he’ll be able to. But Pat seems to sense it just by the way he behaves. That means more than Patrick knows.

But he does enjoy testing the waters, so when Patrick wraps an arm around him while they’re still close–Jax responds in time to wrapping his arms around the other’s waist, looking up at him.

“I think I missed you more.” He teases lightly, hoping it’s alright to be bold. He did miss him. Didn’t realize how much until right then. And because of that…he slowly presses himself up on his toes and kisses him.

It’s feather light, and quick, but Jax wants to do it. He just hopes Patrick doesn’t mind either.

“Home-made bread.” He repeats with a soft smile, licking his lips once the kiss has ended. “I hope you think I was cute doing that too,” He jokes lightly, “I wasn’t sure. That’s been on my mind for a while.”

patrick doesn’t expect it until it happens, they’re very close when jax decides to take the plunge and kiss him - and okay, maybe it’s just something quick and light but it’s something. it takes a lot for patrick to stay still, controlled, not to crush jackson against him and really fucking kiss him, the way he really wants to. 

to let jax knows how he really feels, something the little peck on the lips can’t really convey. pat wants to love every inch of jackson, yet - he can’t. not yet, so this is progress. it’s a i’m getting more comfortable. a taste of what’s to come, what could be. 

his face is pink, the same shade tinting the tips of his ears when jax pulls back to look at him, and patrick looks back with nothing short of an adoring gaze. “you could never miss me more than i miss you,” he admits softly.

Jax checks on the bread in the oven before stirring a stew on top of the stove. He’s making something homey for Patrick, something he thinks he’ll definitely enjoy–something his gram might make for him in an old-timely family recipe. It’s his first time making it but Ivan actually gave him some pointers, something he makes for Stefan sometimes, so he’s feeling pretty confident. He’s not bad in the kitchen by any means.

He looks up and grins when Patrick wanders in, leaning against the kitchen door frame–he’s a sight for sore eyes. Jax is overwhelmed with warmth and missing him, wandering over to wrap his arms around Pat’s tall frame. He leans up on his toes and kisses his cheek,

“Hi, god it’s so nice to see you. I’ve missed you.”

He then laughs and pulls back, shaking his head as he goes back to the stove, “No, I’m good in the kitchen, okay! Thought you might like this, beef stew, fresh bread in the oven.”

he doesn’t expect the kiss on the cheek, even though jax is so usually outwardly affectionate towards it, it still catches patrick off guard who so often wants nothing more than to wrap the other up in a hug and kiss him senseless because - he’s lovely, he’s everything to patrick. but - no. the ball has to be in jacksons court, and pat has implicitly agreed to that.

still, it makes the tips of his ears go red in embarrassment. “i missed you too,” he replies, voice soft and incredibly fond in those four words, laying himself bare for only a few choice moments. he gives jacksons a squeeze, hugs him back while they’re still attached to each other.

they’re gone when he pulls back, tending to the stove and the stew which smells amazing. “home-made bread? you’re spoiling me,” the taller remarks with another little grin. “i know you are, you’re just cute when you’re annoyed,”

Jackson hopes that he hasn’t crossed over any invisible boundaries or anything like that in making this sweater for Ivan. He just–he wanted to, so he figured why not? When he gets inspired, he tries not to tell his muse otherwise, life is too short for that to be wasted–not to mention the fabric. He smiles warmly at Ivan, pulling himself up from the chair,

“Well, it was nice running into you. I actually have to get back home because my boyfriend is coming home tonight from a long trip and I wanted to attempt to make him dinner. But I’ll get that sweater to you soon, if you want to stop my Beau’s at some point.”

//////

it’s been a fun week, seven days and seven states for 8 hours a day, talking and tattooing and drinking - pat feels absolutely worn out but, knows he needs to spend some time checking in with jax. the flight home is right after the last day, he’s getting the first while the other’s spend another night before heading home. he misses jackson, wants to see him - it’s the longest the two have been apart for a long time, even though they aren’t...exactly official as of yet. 

that could change if pat wants it to, of course but, it’s if jackson feels comfortable with that.

the taxi ride from the airport feels like a lifetime, dropping him and the suitcase off outside jackson’s place and he lets himself in easily and - he’s there, in the kitchen. “you cooking? i’m not gonna get food poisoning am i?”

Jax has always had trouble coming into his own, accepting himself. So many others rejected him. His mother loves him for who he is, Patrick too, and Beau. But his father? Other men he’s encountered? Sometimes he has to remind himself that there’s nothing wrong with him and he deserves the love and admiration a lot of people show him.

Like Ivan, interestingly enough.

“Oh, a suit?” He nods, “I’d love to. I’d have to get your measurements, swatch selections– I uh,” Jax feels a soft blush kiss his cheeks, “I actually–” He talks a little with his hands when he’s nervous. “There are certain people who inspire me to create things and for some reason, just your bone structure and…stature–long story long, I made this sweater for you? It’s in my apartment, I wasn’t sure when I was going to see you again.”

“It’s like this thick knit material and cream colored, like if you worked as a sailor on a barge.” He’s talking too much and laughs awkwardly, “I’ll get it to you–it’ll look nice. Stefan will like it on you.” He smiles.

-

it turns out jax is ahead of ivan in the wanting clothes made for them department because the younger man has already made them a sweater. ah - so ivan was his muse for the particular piece? the thought makes them smirk a little at the affect he clearly has on him. it’s a mutual thing however, as vanya is never this openly...okay with people. that is, smiling, joking, teasing, being anything but the ice king so many know him to be.

“for me? you are too find. i am...not fashionable type,” that’s a blatant lie, as he always does look his best, or at least smartly dressed. it’s casual clothing that he struggles with more than anything. a sailor’s jumper, hand made, good for the winter when he stays over with stefan.

vanya can’t hide the fact that he’s touched that jackson would do something like that for him, despite them barely knowing each other beyond a few small meetings. “it does not matter if he likes it - i think it matters more if you do, as you made it,”

So here’s the thing, Jackson knows that he probably shouldn’t like Ivan on the sheer principal that he’s gotten Stefan (and toys a little with the man) when he’s obviously team Beau, being his good if not best friend. He also knows, thanks to Beau and even Patrick telling him so, that Ivan is a dangerous man. Maybe even a bad man, even though Ivan has done nothing to him personally.

Jax has always been the type of person who likes to give people chances (maybe too many, but still) and Ivan has done nothing to turn him off. It’s nice to talk to someone, especially a male, who–like Stefan, is not interested in him sexually. It creates more of a comfort that he is trying to build with more dominate, masculine-like men and he doesn’t have to worry about being hit on.

Ivan is sweet to him, thoughtful. It’s nice?

He smiles, a soft blush twinging his cheeks as the woman brings over his tart. He splits it, offering some to Ivan. “Oh yeah, they’re just being nice I think.” He laughs softly, “Wasn’t just me who had designs at that thing. But I really enjoyed it–was a great opportunity to put on my resume for when I’m done with school.”

-

he sits back and watches jax, notes his curled hair around his jawline and the chipping polish on his nails. he’s feminine in a way that ivan has never experienced before - of course, he’s met girly-men, his brother is one after all but...ivan’s never been close to those sorts of people. really, he’s only ever had stefan as a partner, both romantic and sexual, not that he’ll ever readily admit that. 

jax is his first in a lot of ways he doesn’t even realise, and probably never will. “nyet, you are talented, you should show that off,” the russian shakes his head, quite insistent on that fact. “you will have good job after graduating. i will ask you to make me suit? i will pay,”

it feels...right, being nice to jackson, a familiarity that ivan so rarely has with anyone else. he likes him, enjoys the little company they’ve shared together. the russian thinks for a moment about declining the sweet before...taking it, instead. “thankyou, little rabbit,”

Jax chews on his lower lip–the last thing he wants to do is skip the line but…it’s gotten even longer since he’s been standing here and getting his drink sooner just because he just so happens to know someone is kind of cool. So he nods and puts his bag down on the chair across from Ivan and wanders towards the other end of the counter.

The blonde girl looks over in his direction, eyebrows raised, “You’re in the wrong spot hun, there’s a line.”

“Oh uhm, I’m a friend of Ivan’s?”

She smiles a little amused, glancing over at Ivan before nodding her head. She’s known Stefan for a long time, has worked in this bakery too many years to count and of course knows the unending drama of Stefan and his boy. Probably too much.

“Sure thing doll, what can I get you?”

Jax relays his order, the latte and a few tarts. The cashier will not take his money even though he tries and decides to put a few bills in the tip jar instead. Jax waits patiently for his order, the blonde woman bringing him his drink and then telling him to sit, she’ll make sure he gets his tarts. He wanders back over to the table Ivan is at and lets out a long sigh, settling in his seat.

“Should have figured you’d have celebrity status in here.” He teases lightly.

-

thanks to his recommendation, jackson is up and back at the table in what some might call record timing considering the overly long line. a few patrons give them both dirty looks but, ivan couldn’t care less about what others may think. he’ll simply flip them off if they try to bitch at either of them, maybe key someone’s car. 

ivan sips his own drink, coffee and milk, not black today. if he brings out his flask, stefan smacks it away on the odd occasion that he drinks in the day without any particular prompt. 

“nyet, not celebrity. i have been here since it opened, i am like - guest of honor,” the russian replies with the slightest tinge of humour in his voice. 

“i read in the paper - about your fashion show? they say you are very good,”

After a grueling fashion in history class, Jackson is in desperate need of caffeine and something sweet before heading to Beau’s. He’s supposed to be having dinner with his friend tonight and sleeping over since Patty’s away on business. Jax does his best to split energy between his….boyfriend? and very good friend but, sometimes he’s a bit transparent with how much of his time he likes to dedicate to Patrick.

He also knows that he shouldn’t be going to Stefan’s bakery in solidarity for Beau but…Jax can’t help but sneak it in sometimes. Despite everything that happened between Beau and his ex, Stefan’s always been so nice to him. Him and Patrick know one another and even though the breakup was ugly–Stefan still takes the time to check on Beau and take care of him best he can, despite the blonde not wanting it (or at least that’s what he says). Stefan also makes the best vanilla latte and raspberry almond tarts he’s ever had, so.

He turns a little at the sound of his name, blinking because– “Ivan?” He smiles softly and wanders over to the table, figuring he can always get back in line when it’s gone down a bit. “Hi,” He curls his hair around his ear, “Didn’t expect for you to still be in town.”

-

he smiles, and it’s a lovely sight, even ivan thinks so as he makes his way over. jackson is lovely, so soft around the edges in a way ivan has never seen on anyone else before. it’s something he knows beau tries to exude but can’t, too naturally cold inside to even foster the beginnings of warmth. 

“i made a promise to a friend, so i will be here a long time,” vanya says idly, folds up the newspaper and places it on the table to give jax his full attention, something not so easily commanded by others. he did make a promise to stefan, and it was something he intended to keep if he wanted to keep him. vanya knew that he was on a knife edge, uneasily walking it - one false move and he’d be thrown into the abyss, and andrei would so easily be back on the scene.

fucking andrei, it made vanyas blood boil. 

“i have brought you out of the line - push to the front, tell them you are a friend of ivan’s, they’ll see to you immediately,” the russian motioned over to the counter. “then come join me when you have a drink, da?”

ivan isn’t good with expressing himself, never has been, their discussions about feelings and actions had never run smoothly in the past. so, he simply declines to participate in them.

the bakery is abuzz with life at this time, the morning rush fading into the lunchtime rush and he’s got a table in the window when someone walked in ; not just anyone but, jax. for once, the russian looks up from the newspaper he’s reading as he walks in, standing in line. he’s done a little research on jax, anything he could skim for surface level.

where he went to school, his parents names, police & medical records...the latter were...interesting.

“jackson,” the russian calls out, waving at him. “come sit,”

Nix can tell just by looking at Wes, he’s struck a nerve. A deep seeded one that hurts, raw and open and hidden well from others. But apparently not by him. And that’s the thing too, he didn’t mean to prod so harshly but once again, Wes seems to get under his skin and causes him to react far more than he usually would. He so fucking good at ignoring people. Apparently not this time.

He watches him carefully for a moment, smirking because dorian gray, really. There are worse things, probably. But also just the sheer underlying commentary that Wes doesn’t know him at all. Sure, he has his moments just like this one but he isn’t entirely cold, callous and cruel. Wes for some reason just brings that the fuck out of him.

Maybe, this conversation makes clear, that they just don’t know one another very well at all. Only layers on the surface.

“Oh so soon?” Nix asks, eating some of his food as he watches him stand. “I was so enjoying this conversation and company.” He says dryly, eyes flickering over his form.

-

“ha ha, fuck you,” wesley replies to nix with another one of them sickeningly sweet smiles that are so obviously fake, quickly flipping the guy the bird before downing the rest of his iced tea. it’s too much sugar, probably came from a bottle in the fridge but it doesn’t matter because he’s not paying for it. “i’m out tonight at snatched. see you in the bathrooms, if you end up there,”

he shoulders the battered satchel around his shoulder, digging out an equally as battered leather wallet and looking inside, as if he’s actually going to pay. wes doesn’t even bother saying bye to nix as he gets up and walks over to the counter. he drops $5 into the tip jar and talks to the woman behind the counter, waving at nix for a brief moment with a smile before talking quietly.

what he’s saying is ‘you’ve seen me talking to that guy, he’s my good friend, agreed to put the whole thing on his bill. your service as usual has been wonderful, i’ll be sure to come back’ and the young woman at the other side of the till has smiled, and nodded, and not bothered to question wes’ story.

Nix doesn’t know what it is about this guy that gets so much underneath his skin but he does. Otherwise? he wouldn’t even be entertaining this conversation. Nix has always had such a great read on people, can figure them out as if they’re on open book with pages spread out in front of him. His fingers along the spine. Wes is really no different–and maybe that’s why Nix keeps talking to him. Because despite how annoying he is, he’s interesting.

His obnoxious attitude doesn’t phase or embarrass him, it’s all one big act, pretending he’s larger than life when in actuality he feels smaller than a speck of dust on the table. Wes acts like he’s the best because he feels the worst–and well, Nix can understand that. Isn’t he doing the same thing with his devilish good looks and quick silver tongue?

He bristles, just a little, at the fact that Wes comments on making money and being fortunate and what not. Nix wasn’t born rich, his family wasn’t poor but…they struggled. Especially for a bunch of other reasons that he’s not about to disclose at this fucking table. But Nix worked for everything that he has–and he’s not going to apologize for that.

“Well maybe if you didn’t suck dick for a living, you could pay for hot water.” He raises his eyebrows, “Or at least start sucking dick well.” He throws back, smiling again with teeth and the waitress puts his food down.

-

he nearly jumped over the table at that, sending both their drinks flying in different directions and grabbing nix’s hair only to slam his fucking beautifully smug face into the table and handful of times, just so he’d look as ugly on the outside as he truly was on the inside but - wes doesn’t. he doesn’t, has always been able to restrain that absolutely feral anger that took root in him the first time his dad smacked him around the dead.

instead, he just grins like nix has told him the best joke in the world, slurping down more food in the process. “funny, i’ve not had any complaints yet,” the man says with the shrug of one shoulder like what he does is completely normal. just get a job - a normal, well paying job, where a background check would reveal everything about wes’ past and then they wouldn’t hire him anyways.

there’s silence then, for once, wes finishing off his meal and checking his little outdated smartphone, the type your parents would own, flicking through a few messages. proposals, pictures, responds to ads - he’s thinking about doing a porno. it pays shit but, it’s not spending another evening with 70 year old enzo and his four pomeranians. keep it together for gods sake keep it together.

“you’re a real dorian gray. all that beauty, completely nothing inside, though i figured a frigidly cold bitch as yourself probably sees that as a compliment,” wesley eventually musters up the worlds worst insult, stacking the little steamers far too high now that they’re all empty and reaching for his wallet.

“must dash, arseholes to bleach and all that stuff. nice talking to you, nixy,”

Nix sighs, annoyingly, glad that the wait staff isn’t someone he’s currently trying to sleep with because Wes is talking and god, he really should have gotten another table. He waits until the waitress goes to fill his drink,

“Trust me, I’m not staying here because of you–and I identify as none of your fucking business.” He smiles prettily, with sharp teeth. He actually is pretty fluid, will spend time with anyone who peaks his interest, interested in having a good time with men, women, people in-between. It doesn’t really matter to him.

He’s never had a girlfriend (or well, that’s not quite a gauge, he hasn’t had a boyfriend either because he doesn’t want one) but he’s slept with women before–just prefers men. Sexually, emotionally, mentally, whatever.

Except if that man is currently seated at the same table as him looking like a fucking mess. Jesus. He leans back against his seat as the waitress comes back with his drink, taking his order as well.

Nix checks his phone, wondering if he’s going to hear from Eros or not about dinner…doubtful. He sighs, taking a long sip of his green tea and Wes eats his lunch special. Nix shakes his head lightly,

“Did you forget the invention of the shower, or what?”

-

“you, nixy, you wound me!” wes wails dramatically around a mouthful of baozi, hand thrown onto his chest and a few of the people sat behind and infront of the pair going quiet and turning to look at the commotion. he’s never been good at...not being him, being subdued and serious and quiet. wesley is loud, and brash and rude and if you don’t like it, he invites you to suck it up and deal with it. how is this man nearly 30 with this attitude? sheer luck, if he had to guess.

the soup from the middle of the dumpling goes everywhere, and he wipes his hands on his jeans when nix next pipes up about the shower. wes knows he’s not in peak condition, despite the way he may act about everything, wes knows.

and he chooses not to let it bother him, for if it did, it would consume him. 

“we aren’t all fortunate enough to afford the hot water. i know you in your ivory towers can’t understand that,” there was such a wiley smile on his face, sarcasm and well-concealed anger hidden within every inch of his face. “but some of us live below the poverty line, even in this oh so great city,”

and wes eats another bao with pronounced bites to make a point.