SHEPARD, JAYNE

"W-What?" Tumbled from Rook's mouth before he could even think to stop himself as Jayne said he wanted Rook to kiss him, blinking owlishly. There's a litany of emotions that pass across his face. Surprise, confusion, desire, guilt. Jayne's hand is warm in his own, the one at the small of his back causing a pleasant shiver to run up his spine, instinct pacing in its cage telling him to kiss him, kiss him, kiss --

Rook leaned down so their lips met, hesitant at first and clearly unpracticed, before all caution is thrown to the wind as his body rejoices at finally, finally, getting what it wanted; needed. He groans softly into it, body shifting to somehow be closer, closer, leg hooking over Jayne's body as he deepened the kiss. It feels so good, it feels right, being in his arms again, kissing him. Enough to nearly bring Rook to tears. He feels them pricking at the corners of his eyes, does his best to ignore them, rather focused on the feeling of Jayne's lips against his own and the way his body and mind screamed at him for more, more, more.

He's about to tease him, cajole him into making a move already before they're both gommaged, but Rook's mouth is on his before any of the words can come out. It's quick and clumsy at first, bumping his nose before he adjusts and tilts his head ---- and just as like that they melt into each other. The last ten years fade into the background as the familiar old feeling of Rook's mouth interlocked with his, their bodies pressed together, washes over him.

Jayne releases the tangle of their hands to cradle Rook's head instead, fingers vanishing into his curls; his other arm wraps further around him, encouraging him to press closer, closer, closer.

Even as he pulls away for a breather Jayne can't help but admire the blush on his cheeks and the newly forming redness to plump, well kissed lips. "Huh," he chuckles, half amused and enamored. "What no gestrals to kiss?" Despite the tease, he cups his jaw, thumb running over his bottom lip. "Guess we gotta practice then, get you back on track---" A thought occurs to him suddenly and he blinks, dimly glowing lavender eyes flitting to the door.

Some sort of squeak-like noise leaves his mouth at the compliment, nose scrunching up for a moment, comment earning Jayne a half-hearted whack on his chest. His blush deepens, travels to his ears, mind stalling as he tried to figure out exactly how to respond. It had been... A long time since he had flirted with anyone. Didn't help him at all that Jayne was laying there like some Grecian God, body warm against his own.

Kiss him, his mind whispered to him, and it's so painfully clear he wants too as his eyes linger on Jayne's lips for just a little too long. He forced his gaze away to the hand he held and fiddled with, a soft little smile on his face.

He makes no effort to hide the small bit of satisfaction he feels in getting Rook so flustered. And he's not blind to where his eyes linger either. After all he hasn't looked away from Rook's face himself, it's easy to see where his mind wanders, the fleeting desire the sparks before he diverts his gaze.

"Mmhmm," Jayne huffs out a brief laugh, letting his head fall back against his arm, the hand there briefly raising to ruffle through his hair. "Sure it's not just the white hair? I skipped the mid-life crisis and went right to silver fox." Which he says with levity now, joking through a crooked smile and his dimples on display, but it still bothers him. His entire body bothers him --- just not when he's with Rook.

Even just around gestrals he had the urge to cover up and hide malformed expanses of skin, to make himself invisible and mask something he considered grotesque and abnormal; something that scared him. Maybe it was because Rook had already seen it, the worst parts of him, and cared for him all that time he spent on death's door. Maybe it was the bond they already shared. He didn't know, and he wasn't interested in trying to pick it apart for answers. All he wanted was to just ... enjoy this, them, the familiarity and comfort between them; complications and all.

"Mm," came his noise of agreement, most of his processing capabilities currently on the fritz as his mind dealt with the surge of old emotions within him. Part of him feels like he has no right to be this close, that he'd had his chance and thrown it all away because what? Rook wasn't entirely sure but had an inkling that the feeling of being 'trapped' in Lumiere certainly didn't help.

"Don't be," he says at once. Not because it didn't ache, but because they had something good here. Right now, in this moment. Somehow in the middle of the Continent surrounded by things that wanted to kill them and the time-frozen corpses of the thousands that came before, they have something good. Rehashing old wounds would only ruin what he'd rather be a good night.

"We were just--" he shrugs, shifting so that his free hand came to rest behind his head, the other idly allowing Rook to continue fiddling. "Fucked up kids doin' fucked up things." and after a moment he smirks. "And fun things, too." Which, given who they were and the crowds they ran with back then, ranged anywhere from stealing kisses to outright arson and street brawls.

At any rate it seems they are staying put after all. What little light coming through from the outside has already started to shift into streaks of gold and pink, creating a sharp outline highlighting Rook's features. Jayne peers at him a moment, head tilting slightly into his arm; where the golden hour made the brown of his skin appear rich and bronze, it highlighted the obvious flush overtaking Rook's features.

Back in Lumiere it was rare that Jayne would wake to Rook still in his bed after they shared a night together, and if he did Rook was quick to bounce. Not Jayne's fault in the least, but because Rook was in no shape to even acknowledge their shared attraction, affection, for one another.

"..." His eyes blink open, a momentary tensing of his body when he realised he was in someone's arms, only to quickly relax once again. Rook felt his cheeks heat up, burying his face in Jayne's chest to try and hide it, traitorous heart aching as old feelings surged to the surface. Part of him wants to run like he did in the past, afraid of any emotional vulnerability, but his time on the Continent had changed him.

"You stayed put, I'll have you know," Jayne responds, voice still carrying the ragged tones of sleep, but tinted with a bit of humor now. Rook hasn't let go of his hand yet, and even as he buries his face against him he's waiting for the other shoe to drop. A quick yawn, a stretch, some reason or other for Rook to get up then and leave.

But this isn't like Lumiere, holed up together in some ramshackle room with a mat on the floor that passed as Jayne's living space. They were on the Continent, in Rook's abode. If anyone aught to get up and leave it should be Jayne. He briefly wonders if that's the only reason Rook hasn't let him wake up alone again.

He couldn't help the fond smile that crossed his face when he realised that Jayne had fallen asleep resting against his shoulder. Rook turned his head carefully just to look at him for a little bit, shifted ever so slightly so the position was more comfortable for them both, a warmth he had nearly forgotten filling his chest. It had been so long since he had experienced any human touch that wasn't hostile and Jayne, there was something familiar about this; something that settled into his bones and eased the tension in his body.

He can't remember being tired enough to just clock out the way he had. Then again he's still adjusting to how his body works now. Despite all of his endurance, he supposes even he might get worn out by dying and being brought back wrong -- at least that's how it felt to him. So when consciousness returns to him in slow blinks and a steady change in breathing, it's a little bit surprising.

More-so the feeling of a body pressed against his, though it only takes a deep inhale and quick recollection to recognize the other as Rook. Right, they were talking about... well for the moment he can't quite recall, and for once? He doesn't particularly care. Sure, it might have been important, but it's below the feeling of Rook's body against his as far as his current priorities.

Rook would have given Trouble a little glare for that statement but he was currently having a moment of gay panic seeing Jayne smile like that again. It had been a decade but he felt old feelings starting to surface, hazy memories of nights shared under the influence, that final night when Rook finally said how he felt -- not in love with Jayne exactly, he wasn't capable of that back then, but the closest he could get. He forced them to the back of his mind, brought back to the present as Jayne started to move. Rook hovered but didn't interfere, letting Jayne move on his own, ready to assist if he needed it.

"Trouble took the name when we first met," he explained, he did notice that look, had just been processing. "I told him he was going to be trouble fondly and he liked it."

Rook held the flap to the rest of his treehouse open for Jayne to walk through. The living space was surprisingly large, floor solid beneath their feet, treehouse well constructed. There's a small table and chairs, some shelving, a fire pit and things Rook has scavenged lying around the place in an ordered chaos. But the most eye catching feature was the large map of the Continent that Rook had been working on the entire time he was here, about three quarters filled out properly -- other smaller maps laying around that he drew on the go.

"Mmhmm, sounds familiar," Jayne muses as he passes by Rook, ducking slightly under the held open flap. The comment on his unabated worry was left conveniently ignored for his sake. The least Jayne could do considering all he'd done for him so far.

In much the same way Jayne had come to survey everything his eyes sweep his surroundings with a strategic focus. The details of hearth and home are a secondary factor to security. It was a long ingrained habit, enforced after he took to training and only more so after Elysium and coming into command of a ship -- short lived as that was. Though he pauses briefly on the fireplace, as if just now noticing he was in someone's home. A place that Rook had built himself.

There's a fleeting feeling of never having belonged in any place he could put down roots, nowhere he'd ever call cozy or willingly lay his head for a number of nights. Before that train of thought can take off, he looks to the map and refocuses, approaching with an appraising eye. "You've been busy." His hand moves to rest, falls against open air, and he blinks, looking up and around. "Where's my--- I had a gun, a shotgun. Don't tell me that fucker ate my gun."