#hellixir

1. my buddy andi @freedommouse has gifted us with a josh foley/julian keller fic ([link: here]) in this, the year of our luigi 2019

“No T.K.” That’s the first thing he says. The words sound totally alien coming from him, showing clearly the way he’s not used to saying them. He says T.K. so that Julian can hear the period after each letter instead of the teekay that Julian’s used to. It’s just another reminder of what he is, who he is. He’s one of them. Julian should have figured the pretty new boy would turn out to be a fucking fascist.

“No T.K.” he repeats, because he’s clearly figured out that Julian wasn’t listening. “Got it?”

“I’ll try,” Julian says flatly. “No promises.”

“That’s-God, fine,” and he’s- what the fuck, he’s taking his shirt off.

“Dude,” Julian says, incredulous. Does he know? How the fuck would he know? Is this his way of- of balancing things, somehow, like it’s okay if Julian has his TK because he’ll be distracted by abs?

Josh gives him a look, the same kind of look Cess gets when she says Julian is being a boy. “I don’t exactly have the most belongings right now,” he says slowly, like Julian’s a child. “I’m not going to ruin anything just cause you’re being a douche.”

“I’m being a douche? You’re a fucking Reaver and I’m being a douche?”

“I told you, I’m not anymore, you’re- oh, fuck you,” and before Julian can finish processing Josh tackles him. Full-blown, slams him into the ground tackles him.

“Jesus fuck!” Julian says as soon as he recovers from having the wind knocked out of him, grabbing Josh’s arm just before he gets punched in the face. Fuck “no T.K.” Josh may be a healer but Julian isn’t as lucky, and like hell he’s going to class with a black eye from fucking Foley the Reaver. Once he’s gotten his bearings it’s no contest. Josh is a close match for him physically, but when Julian’s using his powers he’s got them flipped over with Josh’s wrists pinned to the ground immediately.

“What happened to no T.K.?”

“Fuck you,” Julian says, then repeats “fuck you,” in case Josh didn’t get the point the first time. “My powers are part of me, asshole, I can’t just turn them off.” He leans in close and hopes it comes across as intimidating rather than gay.

Josh’s face isn’t angry anymore, though. Or, rather, it is, but it’s also bright fucking red in a way it hadn’t been a minute ago. Julian doesn’t know why he’s -

Wait. No way, no fucking way.

Julian shifts his weight back, just enough so his hips are hovering right over Josh’s, whose face is getting redder by the second.

Julian presses down.

He’s just in contact long enough to confirm his theory. He’s not sure what his plan had been, but he reacts purely on instinct, scrambling back with a cry of “Holy shit!” like he’s been burned.

Josh props himself up on his elbows. He’s almost purple now. It looks like he’s about to speak, so Julian stumbles to his feet and then bolts.

Holy Mary Mother of God, what the hell was that?

fingerguns the invite has expired but i’d love to join!

*chanting* one of us one of us

Julian wakes with a start.

Chest rising and falling rapidly, eyes dilated to a point that they overtake almost all the blue of his irises. He never screams, it just isn’t the type of reaction that he’s ever given to that sort of thing. In the back of his mind, he’s subtly aware of a pair of golden arms wrapped firmly around him, but the thought never fully processes itself. The duvet slips down, revealing his naked frame to the somewhat cold air in the room. It’s actually pretty warm, but without the blanket he’s left to feel like he’s stepped into the middle of Times Square on a cold New York morning. As his chest stills, breathing regulating, he can finally hear the words of confidence from his partner, trying to help him settle down. He can’t be certain if it’s the fact that he’s still in a state of shock, but he doesn’t respond; he never does, at least not right away.

The light of the early morning has started to shine through the cracks in the buildings beyond theirs, it’s warm glow a stark contrast to the icy-coldness he’s feeling, the light striking the perspiration clinging to his exposed chest, causing him to shiver. “I’m okay,” he mutters, going to push a hand through his hair only to realize he hasn’t called them to himself. Julian is somewhat aware of the fact that he’s shaking, nerves shot after the increased hormone production he’s recently found himself going under. He knows for a fact that Josh is aware of exactly how this affecting him, how much he’s hiding, but it’s a topic that remains silent between them. He winds up pushing his wet, sweat dampened hair from his brow and lays back down, turning so he can bury his face against his boyfriend’s collarbone. One shutter wracks his frame, a quiet sob leaving him, and then it’s done. He makes himself end it there, because otherwise it will win by ruining his day.

Julian’s aware it’s already putting a strain on his relationship, and soon enough Josh is going to make him talk about it; but he isn’t ready for that. The first week they happened, Josh had been in Chicago, so he’d been lucky. But that was three weeks ago, and now as they were approaching the month mark, he knew the discussion they’d had two weeks ago about him seeing someone, talking to someone, would arise again.

But how can he? How can he talk about this? It’s the same fucking dream every night, each night going a few steps further than the last. The stupid thing had simply started as masked men breaking into their penthouse, kidnapping them. What it had evolved to though, that was entirely different.

It was now to the point that Julian spent each night watching Josh getting tortured, his own interrogation being reliant on the fact that he wouldn’t be able to endure them hurting him. And he nearly broke at the point he’d woken the past night. The problem with this dream though, is that it was identical to the very minute details of his apartment every night. He’d spent last week looking, nothing was out of place; and it terrified him. Julian had never experienced his secondary mutation, what if it was this? What if he was becoming a pre-cog? His paranoia would be at an all time high if he actually began to believe that. But what if this was actually going to happen? What was he supposed to do then if this was actually going to turn out to be true? Tonight he’d stopped at the point in the dream where there was a scalpel pressed to Josh’s sternum; he couldn’t endure watching that happen. So tonight something would have to change, he surmises. If this even had the slightest chance of happening it was his responsibility and duty to protect the man that he loved.

“We need to leave New York,” he mutters, pressing his lips to Josh’s bare shoulder, officially commencing their morning routine of lazily enjoying each other before a long day in the office. “I’ve uh.... I’ve got business in Cali all this week and the two after that. I forgot to mention last night, you were asleep when I finally got in... I-” he doesn’t bother continuing, he knows that Josh knows that he’s lying. So what’s the point in digging that hole any further? “We just can’t be here right now, okay? The dark-haired mutant knows his still shaking, so he just proceeds with things, hands finally responding to his telekinesis, moving them both up slowly between his boyfriend’s legs to grab hold of him with a precise amount of pressure. “They aren’t too cold?” he asks, a slight inflection is heard in his voice on the last word.

The rest of the morning gets back on track, and soon enough he’s leaving the bed with him, heading for the shower, his thoughts still lingering on whether or not these things were actually going to happen. The only thing he knows, the only thing he’s known is that if he changes things, if he moves them out of here, then maybe he can change his dreams. The worrying thought, the implication that leaves however, is that these dreams are, or could be, real.