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tunnel/room works

[And that's all he sends back, trying not to seem too distracted as he asks a bunch of stupid questions he is totally making up on the spot because he lost his cue cards. He can already feel Debra breathing down his neck about it, just like how she threw a fit and insisted they take the tiny cat o' nine tails off of Rootbeer. Too weird, she said. During an episode full of gak and a fake volcano.

He disappears at the conclusion of the event, lingering for interviews and then walking back with guests. More interviews follow along with some generic work for the production team, after which he just takes Rootbeer on the worlds longest walk. Until motherfucking nightfall. When he can't put off "later" any longer and takes a slow trip through the rose garden and into the litter filled tunnel that smells... weird.]

u there?

[He knocks on the closed wall of the passage, to make sure he can enter.]

[ Debra and her fucking heteronormative bullshit can go fuck itself at a later date, when things aren't quite so hectic. Between what went down in this room yesterday, with Poe and his friends, and with everything that happened today, he's starting to feel claustrophobic tucked away in these four walls - a feeling that only grows as each hour ticks by, each minute, each second, none of them being late enough to classify as later.

He considers texting first. Asking, in his eagerness to get everything labeled and organized and made neat so he knows what's going on, for Peter to come to his room long before he might be ready. But he doesn't. The biggest thing he's learned from Poe drama is how fucking easy it is for him to ruin things by needing words as badly as he does - he writes dozens of texts, each more pathetic than the last, but he doesn't send a single one.

When Peter finally hits him up, the room feels too tight, too oppressive, to stay in alone. There's a message asking if he's here and he's instantly off the bed he was laying in, bolting down the shitty stone steps that lead to the garden - he runs so fast that once he hits the passage entrance and lets Peter in, he's exhausted, doubled down on his knees as he tries to catch his breath. ]

You--

[ He staggers upright, wiping some nervous sweat from his forehead and shutting the hidden entrance behind them. Locking them both away. ]

You-- y-you---

[ he scrubs at his cheeks, slaps them a little to stop wheezing so much. doesn't work. ]

You get here okay? No-- no-- no Debra problems?

Yeah, no - it's cool. [He says, glancing back behind him to see the entrance close. It feels like a tomb shutting them in and he swallows hard, but despite that he feels like... he's so much more aware of what he's doing with his body right now. Of the nonchalance he wears like a mask - a calm breath, a tilt of his head before he looks back to Odin.

He's been avoiding having to look at Odin since the production hallway because that last expression he saw of him haunts him. The look in his eyes, the depth there and the stupid shit he did immediately after staring straight into them. He's grateful it's a dimly lit pisshole down here because he feels hot around the collar, embarrassed.]

Sorry it took a while. ["I was panicking."]

No, it's-- it's cool. As well. Also. That's also a thing that I find cool, as well.

[ He firms his posture, looks at Peter, and decides he can't do it. He bends back over with his hands on his knees and breathes out a few times until he feels slightly less like he's ran a marathon, then straightens tall again and slips into a tense, rigid kind of staring. He runs his fingers through his hair until it's all over the place - he's wearing the hoodie he wore after space for those first few weeks, and he slips the hood over his head and tightens the drawstrings until just a little bit of his face is peeking out.

Decides that's stupid and pulls the hood open again, tucking it back behind his neck. Hoo boy. Fidgety. ]

So, um. What... [ what am i to you what was that what were you what was that what was this what is this ]

How... ah.

[ He scrambles for words. Finds some, about the reflection of the moon, and tucks them away. Breathes out. ]

Are you okay? After that? Are we-- we're still cool?

[Peter's composure starts to melt off him like wax from a burning wick, his eyes betraying the most of his uncertainty even in the shadowed light. It's so dingy and cramped around them and it's not helping, but the cool stone against his back when he brushes against it isn't bad. He wants to press up against it to relieve some of the heat built up in his body, this flush that leaks out across his face with a heaving breath.]

I'm sorry - I shouldn't have done that... [Not before Odin was launched out to be on TV.

He hesitates, scrambling for words himself.] Not before you were supposed to be on TV. But you did good? You looked good, it worked out okay. I told you it would? But yeah, I should've like... not done that. Not like that? I don't know. It was pretty shitty of me.

[He's running his mouth and he can tell.] To do that to you.

I-- what?

[ Of all the ways this could have gone, he hadn't expected an apology. It runs through his system like icewater and all his paranoia, all his anxiety, instantly makes him assume the worst of this. How many times, by now, has he found himself vulnerable in a quiet place like this one, only to be apologized to, shot the fuck down and sent on his way? The thought that Peter might be-- taking it back, telling Odin this is some kind of ending--

It puts his heart in a vice, the thought that all those quiet fleeting moments of holding hands in bed, of keeping each other warm at night, of watching Peter twist those fucking oreos-- those quiet fleeting moments of Peter, his best friend-- all might come to an end. He's straight, he's always been straight, Odin knows that more than anyone, it's why nothing's ever progressed--

It hits him, under the fresh wave of panic that makes him feel like the world is ending.

He's been holding back. ]

I'm not--

[ He stares at Peter. A make or break moment, maybe. He swallows, wipes at his nose, and his ribs ache with just how powerfully his heart is pounding against them. They need to talk about this, but it's right there on the tip of his tongue. I'm not supposed to be on TV now, if you want to do it again.

He swallows it down. ]

I'm not unhappy. With what happened. I just-- want to know what... it meant? Before I, ah.

Do anything.

Yeah, but I could've fucked you over - oh hey, Odin. It's gonna go great, let me just fucking make out with you before you're supposed to deliver a goddamn speech. That's a smart idea, Peter. A great fucking idea.

[He fidgets too, gesturing wildly with his hand because he's tense again, shoulders curling in as he exhales hard and heavy. There's a wild amount of energy stored up in him now, things he couldn't run out and things that make him wanna crawl out of his skin. He doesn't have an outlet for it all and it resonates in a tremble, from his lip to his fingertips, a tapping of his foot against the dirt and stone floor.

When he looks up to meet Odin's eyes, he forces himself not to look away. He has to face this head on and even if he wants to cower from his shitty choices like he does every other goddamn time he's out of his comfort zone. Again that familiar feeling washes over him, a magnetism he had with Jean and a gravitational pull he feels here again with Odin.

God, his mouth. Is. So. Dry.] The last little while's been weird. Been thinking about a lot of stuff here and honestly? I don't know what it means.

[He licks his lips, fights not to look away. Ends up rolling his eyes anyway.] I just wanted to do it.

Edited 2018-02-14 05:41 (UTC)

[ He listens, stifling down panic, the fears of how this could go wrong all tumbling around in his head a little too late. He hadn't even considered, even in those hours alone waiting for tonight, that Peter might just... go. He's been such a constant part of Odin's life for so long now that he'd thought even if he regretted the kiss, it would be fine - Odin could just salt the hopes and the joy and the feelings he'd been growing, pull their weeds up from his heart before they entwine as deeply as Poe's had before they were ripped out of him.

They could go back to being friends, they could just-- be fine, but Peter's apology and now the stiltedness of what he's saying reminds him of Poe's shut down on Big Brother. The draughtiness of this passageway reminds him of how cold it was in space. He looks down, bites his lip, then looks back up again.

Because - this is different, isn't it?

The way Peter can't hold eye contact, the way he's so fucking nervous, the little imperceptible acceleration in his words that always happens whenever he's anxious. Odin notices every twitch, every subtle change, because how could he not? He can read Peter better than he can read himself, after half a year of sticking by his side through everything. ]

I don't care about-- fuck. [ He rubs his eyes. ] It didn't fuck me over. Even if it could have. It didn't. Can we skip past all of that? I'm happy it-- you made me happy. When you did that.

[ He drops his hand down to his mouth, shielding that stupid fucking blush that warms him even to the tips of his ears. When he talks again, it's muffled behind fingers, but it's there. Quiet. Something important. ]

I'm glad you did it.

You did tell me to try you again when I'm sober.

[There's that plucked out attempt at humor, Peter's head canting slightly to the side as he tries not to feel too suffocated by the fact Odin admits he likes it. It's actually really bizarre to Peter, this second in time, because he'd been so caught up in his own feelings he hadn't really thought about the concept that Odin would like it too. He thought too long and hard about how he might've fucked up their dynamic. Never enough about how Odin might've felt about him in return.

I'm glad you did it. Peter feels relief? He's - he's glad too?] Wasn't that bad this time around, right? Be honest.

[He looks back to Odin and there's a hint of a more genuine, friendly humor - a look in his eye that hints a smile might be ready to creep back on his lips. He's not good in serious moments like this, when he locks up and feels rooted to the spot. He's a guy that needs to move and touch, but he lifts his hand just a few inches from his side before dropping it back down. He doesn't know what to do with himself.]

[ Odin laughs, and at first it sounds fake, too loud and sudden to be genuine, but he gets caught up in the moment and it evolves into something very real; dumb and infectious giggles that stem from the nerves in his stomach and the pins and needles in his chest, stupid and embarrassing and way too over the top. He's just happy. It doesn't look like Peter's going to leave because of this.

He feels like he's standing on the edge of something tall, looking down, too much vertigo. He stops laughing, slowly. Drags his hand over his mouth, then back through his hair. He shoves his hands in the front pockets of his hoodie and he counts to ten in his head before he lets himself say anything more, because again - this is a make or break moment, isn't it?

He lets himself enjoy the peace of where they are. Lets himself think, naively, for just a moment longer, that Peter's place beside him is still secure. He has a chance to just swallow everything down and let this lie where it is; two friends with unfulfilled feelings, both of them going in one direction or another, feelings that'll fade with time. A short amount of time, all things considered. Peter'll find a hot girl to remind him that whatever this is is just a phase. Odin'll dwell on the man he loves who will never love him back in quite the same way, and he'll seal himself off again. It wouldn't be hard to keep their dynamic the way it is.

But he can't.

Make or break, then. He looks up at Peter, a soft smile on his lips. It drifts, and he just... watches him. Whatever they'll be after this, it won't be best friends. He takes a breath. Reaches for Peter's hand, just as Peter drops it back by his side. ]

... So. [ Serious voice. Something big is coming from this. He takes another breath, stuttering and nervous. ]

So-- so, hey.

Edited 2018-02-14 06:32 (UTC)

[Peter looks down to Odin's hand when it reaches out for his, stiffening a bit because he knows his hands are disgustingly sweaty from anxiety and nerves but he doesn't pull away. He just sort of turns his palm in a little, angling to lay flush against Odin's and let their fingers intertwine. It's just instinct to start, until he realizes the gesture is more intimate now. Was it always?

Different kinds of intimacy that blend together, it's suddenly a little easier to breathe and even though Odin stutters and Peter doesn't have a word to reply with - he smiles. The desire to bolt away is subdued the second they have contact and the fingers of his other hand twitch.]

So. [He swallows hard again, tongue tracing over his teeth.

He feels that push again and it sits behind his ribs urging him on. It's not easy to fight and he falls into it, body moving before he lets his brain catch up. His fingers twist into Odin's hoodie, pulling him close by it while he pitches himself forward. Peter indecisively lean his weight on Odin, then pressing him back against the tunnel wall while catching him in another kiss. Everything around them no longer matters to Peter and it fades, like they've slipped underwater and muted the world away.

Guess that's how you know something's alright. Something's good.]

[ Peter's hand anchors him, as it always has. The pulse pounding away in his head eases and things become clearer without his racing heartbeat drowning everything else out. His eyes are adjusting more and more to the dimly lit hallway, but he shuts them tight to rehearse what he wants to say. A confession. An acknowledgment that-- yeah, things have been different, and they've been getting steadily different for a while, at least since they shared that hotel room together at the heights of their heartache. Months of this, building higher and higher, even without his noticing.

He has the words all lined up in his head when Peter kisses him before he gets a chance to say them, and he smiles against it, making things clumsy and awkward until he can will it back down. Odin didn't really get a chance to kiss Peter back this afternoon, and now that he has a chance, he-- wants to show Peter everything he's been feeling, wants to make it clear that this means something.

He's too nervous, and each soft, exploratory touch of his tongue, each achingly hesitant parting of his lips... it all comes too cautiously. There's such a lack of confidence compared to the kiss he gave Peter on Christmas, but there's so much more electricity - his arms are fucking trembling, and when he puts his hands to Peter's jawline just to feel his bare skin on his own, it must be obvious how fucking terrified of this he is. He pulls back, after a moment, curling both hands in the shoulders of Peter's suit, breaking them apart.

He tries to will his hands to stop shaking, but they won't. ]

I--

[ The acid in his stomach boils, and again, he fears rejection. Even after all of this, rejection feels like it could come so easily - Odin needs titles, he needs words, and that's never been Peter's strong point. He clenches his jaw and makes fists, flexing and unflexing his hands because they won't settle down. He finds Peter's hand again and locks their fingers together, and - yeah. Yeah. Better.

But he's a coward. He could say it so easily. Does this make us something?.

He's too gun-shy, and he deflates, nerve disappearing. He leans further back against the wall and moves his fingers to Peter's tie, pulling him forward, staying chest to chest. He tries not to be too disappointed in himself, but it's there, and when he dips down for another swift kiss, it's hard to balance that feeling alongside the fucking soaring high he's getting from the rest of this. ]

Edited 2018-02-14 07:10 (UTC)

[Odin's not the only one to feel a pang of panic in the lull between moments, to rapidly overthink what it means to have a pause. To have nervous energy thrum through them when their lips were touching. To wonder if he was wrong when Odin pulls away, wedging space back in between them and making Peter blink open his eyes. He looks up, breathing in deep through his nose and feeling his heart edging its way up his throat.

But. It continues.

It isn't fluid but it's something - it's not stilted, it's not failing, but it's not perfect. And there's some beauty to that, a fumbling sense of discovery that Peter's not shying away from. He stays close, hand claimed and his tie tugging him in. That gesture alone has a notable reaction pulled out of him, a creasing brow and parting of his lips. His face is already red so the blood flows elsewhere.

He kisses back again, tilting his head and resting his other hand on Odin's side. It worms its way up underneath his hoodie to sit on his hip, to seek out skin and warmth to hold on to. He doesn't intend to put his leg between Odin's but he does, that magnetism pulling him in like this is a club and any other make out he's had in his life.

But maybe - It's this time he peels away, leaning back until his tie is pulled taut and then he tips up his chin. His breathing is in shallow, steady breaths and this moment's really hitting him. His eyes are low lidded and he feels so at ease in comparison to moments ago, like the vice on his chest relented and in rushed a surge of pleasant, joyful feeling.]

If we're gonna... keep doing this, can we go to your room?

[He cracks a smile.] I'm - pretty sure there's a condom on the floor. Staring right up at us. Right now.

Edited 2018-02-14 07:30 (UTC)

[ Odin feels like he's never been touched before, nerves under skin jumping with every light graze over his hip. It's easy enough to stay focused, for the most part, body only coming still when Peter every so often starts to dominate the kiss and Odin wants to let it happen, but the second that leg slides between his own--

The breath he'd been taking in turns into more of a hiss between his teeth, and he doesn't mean to do it, but he rolls his hips forward and goes red at the basic, wanton need of it. He pulls away from the kiss, chuckling sheepishly and rubbing his eye with the palm of his hand, suddenly too overwhelmed to even look at Peter. Fuck.

He can't quite catch up to his thoughts, so he just nods, erratic. He's not sure if that meant what he thinks that meant, but the trembling and the excitement are back in full force. He breathes in until his lungs ache and then he lets it go, taking Peter's hand for the thousandth time and holding tight. ]

You'd think, uh. [ He swallows. ] You'd think that condom belonged to some dude in the production crew, but no. Definitely Paulina's. A queen that busy knows to keep safe.

[ He flashes a nervous grin, finding confidence in just how fucking happy Peter looks. It's only a smile, but it's Peter's, and that's enough.

Odin still has Peter's hand, and he doesn't let go as they walk, keeping it in his own until they're back through the secret tunnel, back up winding stairs and back in front of the stone entrance to his bedroom. He swallows and lets them in, breaking from Peter to make absolutely sure they're alone - he locks the door, draws the curtains, does it all, and when the coast is clear he's looking at Peter from across the room and suddenly doesn't know how to close the distance. ]

Can we-- ah.

[ It's there, that gun-shyness, and without Peter's hand in his, without the imminent promise of nervous kissing and borderline half-touches that wouldn't lead anywhere worse tonight but could, potentially, if either of them were willing to let them, he... suddenly feels isolated, not sure what to do. ]

Can we-- talk? More? Before the-- you know. Making out. That we were gonna do. We were gonna make out, yeah? This was-- like. That was the plan? Making out?

Edited (nOt Yet AcTuALLy) 2018-02-14 07:55 (UTC)

[This whole thing was weighing on Peter so much earlier that it's almost laughable now. How all his frustrated doubts that maybe this was just an impulsive thing, a needy lonely thing, they all wash away the second Odin bucks his hips and Peter's heart skips a beat at how that makes him feel. He feels hot, burning up from the inside and mildly aroused but more importantly he feels excited to get that reaction. He feels... wanted.

It's a good thing that Odin peels back in a way because it gives Peter a moment to think, to step back (literally and metaphorically,) and look at what he's doing. He laughs at the joke, flashing a wide grin and shaking his head. 'She gets around,' he murmurs with another chuckle before they go to Odin's room. He feels like he's wandering along the way, feet moving of their own drifting accord as he can only focus on the feeling of their hands.

How many times had they held hands before, thoughtless? So naturally?

They detach from one another in the room and Peter lingers by a wall, fingers touching to it like it'll ground him in Odin's place. And then he just watches Odin move, a certain grace to even the most mundane gestures - what do you expect from an agile asshole who can jump around forty feet at a time?]

Yeah we can... talk. [He says, catching up with a frown and a tilt of his head, rewinding to what he said in the tunnel before the pink that's spread across Peter's face resurfaces. If we're gonna... keep doing this, can we go to your room? Wow. Um. That sure did sound pretty sexual and Peter's only catching up to it now, gaping a bit like a fish out of water before slapping his hands to his face and rubbing over the bridge of his nose.]

Yeah. I mean. Yeah? Shit. Make outs were - were the plan. I didn't mean to hint at - more.

[He's gonna die. He runs his hand sheepishly back through his hair and doesn't move forward, leaning back against the wall instead. He feels hot still, and flaps his jacket lapel like that's going to do much to help him. Suddenly he feels shy about taking it off, so he doesn't move to. And here's where his nervousness resurfaces, where he stumbles through and feels abashed about every little thing he does.]

Edited 2018-02-14 08:10 (UTC)

[ Odin hovers by the door and shoves his hands back into his hoodie. There's a second or two where all he does is bounce on the balls of his feet and eye Peter from across the room, mind racing in a thousand different directions, but then-- but then Peter's stumbling, and it's so damn obvious that he's as nervous about all of this as Odin is. That makes things easier, somehow? Odin's at his best when there's a problem to solve, and under all the layers of weird romantic tension, his closest friend is feeling anxious and that's something he can tackle. Okay.

He looks down at the ground, kicking at it a little, then back up to Peter. He sways on the spot like he's about to step forward, but it takes a few tries before he actually remembers how to walk. He stops and starts a few times as he just stumbles awkwardly through the bedroom to the wall Peter's leaning on, and once they're an arm's length from each other, he kinda just... lifts his leg and nudges at Peter's shin with his foot. ]

It's okay. I get it. You wouldn't-- we haven't even-- I'm not ready? You're not ready. It'd be too fast. For... more. Not that, uh. Not that by fast I'm saying we're going somewhere, because I don't even know if that's what you-- want? Just. I'm saying-- I totally get it. Making out. Or whatever. Kisses. Kiss stuff.

[ He coughs. Fuck. Okay. Pressing on. ]

I just gotta say some shit. If that's okay. And I figure-- maybe you do as well? Maybe you don't, though. Maybe you do, though? I do. So.

[ So.

Yeah. ]

[Peter watches Odin nudge his leg, bouncing his knee to nudge back before looking up. He hears the words pour out of Odin and he's so sharply in tune to listen that his heart picks up and time seems to slow. His eyes flick over Odin's face in detail for a few fractions of a second, just to watch him. Every intricate little movement from a flutter of his eyelashes to the twitch of his lips as he talks, all in instantaneous slo-mo. He has a moment to think and hesitate before he's blinked and everything returns to normal. The words 'Maybe you do, though?' then catching in his ears.]

Yeah - wait, hold on. I'm dying here. [He says, pushing off the wall and inadvertently walking away from Odin. Half nervous pacing and half a desire to shed his jacket, he shrugs it off with a bit of trouble and feels immediate relief. He drapes it over the chaise and looks back, loosening his cuffs nervously and realizing the space he slid back in between them.

He slides back toward Odin, one deliberately awkward stride paired with a wincing look of haha, look, I'm back, he just huffs a sighing breath.] Me going too fast is kinda on trend but, yeah. Yeah - so. Huh.

What d'you wanna say? [Should he have gone first? Shit.]

[ Odin laughs, and it helps. He watches Peter take off his jacket, but he's only half-focused, eyes glossed over. There's so much pressure to say the right things tying a rope around his lungs, but so much of that tension just eases away when Peter's dumb stilted goofiness sets his heart racing in a way that can only be described as purely affectionate. Puppy love, right? That's what Peter's mom called it. ]

I just-- fuck, I love how you look in a suit.

[ He smiles, pure and genuine, then ducks his head a bit to avoid seeing Peter's face. Dumb thing to say, maybe.

But, okay. Okay.

Here we go.

Every time he spoke to Poe about his feelings, it always ended in rejection, in one way or another. If not explicitly, then certainly through silence. It's not like him to be scared of jumping from heights like this, but he is, and it's something he's gotta try and work through if he wants this to go anywhere. Which he does, he thinks? He scratches at the back of his head. ]

I'm not good with...

[ He flicks his eyes up, then down and away. Up again. He sets his jaw and rolls his shoulders, actively looking like he's about to charge into battle. Only way he can get through this is to treat it like a war. ]

After Poe, I'm not good with not knowing where I stand? I've gotta know what you're feeling, I've gotta know what you want.

[ He knows that Peter likes him a lot, given he said as much, but it's. ugh. He covers his face with his hands and drags down, pulling at his eyelids and going gaunt before dropping his arms heavily to his sides. ]

If you can't answer, like - that's okay? We can tackle that. But I don't want to... not... talk. Basically.

[Peter flushes a bit at Odin's compliment, smile tugging at his lips but his limbs then feeling like noodles in response. He slings his right arm over his left shoulder, rubbing anxiously at his shoulder blade with his fingers briefly cupped to his elbow. He wants to stretch and move and instead here he is, trying to pay attention and stay focused.

He drops his arms back down after a minute, changing fidget tactics by rolling up his sleeves one after the other while perching back against the edge of a chair in the room.] You're right - I don't know what I want? I don't even know what I expected, 'cause - I didn't think ahead. One of my shitty flaws.

But like, let me just... [his teeth clench and he tries to not let that cut off his words] Let me just talk? You listen. You sit? Sit, maybe, I don't know. I can't really stay still when I'm... nervous, or anxious or dealing with stuff like this. But I'm trying - anyway.

[They're really too alike in moments like this, murmuring fractured sentences and having constant movement to their hands. Peter rubs at his face in almost a mirroring of what Odin's gesture, maybe a subconscious copy or just the same wiring in their brains reacting to stress. He taps his foot and plays his fingers against the silver band on his wrist, trying to forcefully contain himself like he used to as a kid. Peter! Pay attention!]

I don't know why I kissed you. I mean, that's kinda a lie. I do. Ever since we got to this island I've been trying to be happy for you, and excited? But I wasn't. I'm not? I don't - I thought like, maybe I'm just a shitty possessive friend who thinks nobody here is good enough for you and that's that. Which is true, I am that friend but like, that's also not true? There are cool people here.

[He looks at his shoes, not at Odin.] But you said some stuff the other day that made - me feel weird and not in a bad way. And I don't know, I guess that's been on my mind a lot lately and how some of our convos have made me feel. And if it's different for you or something - that's fine. I'm just... we had that whole conversation about me being the last person alive to pick up cues?

[He sighs.] Remember that? I do. And I think I just finally realized why I'm such a possessive, jealous douchebag.

[ Odin knows Peter well enough to see how hard he's trying to stay focused, and that alone is enough to keep his heart swelling, emotion threatening to choke him and leave him trembling all over again. He feels important, he feels like the center of things, and it makes him so overwhelmed it's hard not to just throw all his anxiety to the wolves and kiss Peter again.

But he needs this, and he does as he's told, wandering to the bed and throwing himself face-down onto it. He rolls over and scoots until he's sitting on the edge of the mattress, feet bouncing on the floor. He balls the sheets in his hands, gripping on tight to anchor himself, then gets antsy and just folds them in his lap instead.

And then he listens.

It's strange, but the lack of safety net doesn't really get to him as deeply as he feared it would. He always thought - on the off chance that he found someone, or on the off chance that Poe came back to him, things would be huge and intense and real, with open declarations of love and vows to stay together as starcrossed lovers or whatever the fuck. But this - it's better? It feels real, this off-step kind of confession where anything can happen and all he's really sure of is that maybe Peter likes him in a way that maybe he shouldn't. And - in the end, Odin doesn't know what he wants, either, other than something, and being maybe the first and only dude that Peter's been interested in... he gets it, if Peter's confused.

In the end, even through thoughts like he remembers things i've said? and he's been jealous?, all he can think about is how Peter kept touching the bracelet on his wrist. Okay. Okay... okay. Okay. Okay oay okay okay okay okay oakyoakyoakyoakya.yaky. Okay. Okay. ]

Okay. Okay. Well. I don't think being impulsive is a flaw. I think the fact that you live in the moment and follow your instincts is admirable as fuck. So.

[ So. So, there. Wait, he was supposed to just shut up and listen, right? He mumbles a quick apology, bows his head, then snaps it up and keeps taking anyway. ]

What'd I say that made you feel weird? [ he pauses. ] And, um.

[ He's grinning a little, but he's trying not to, so he bites his lip until it hurts and leaves a mark. He breathes out through his nose. ]

So-- so just to be clear. Just to be clear. What... what exactly did you realize? Exactly? With words? Like. What are... the words you would use... to explain why you've been jealous? With. Words, please. Words like "like", maybe. Or - "feelings". If those are applicable.

Edited 2018-02-15 00:29 (UTC)

[Peter doesn't know how to handle too many compliments sent his way and although he manages with this one, feeling a cozy feeling in his chest, there's also a flare of uncertainty. He's used to Odin slathering him in compliments but he fights them instinctively, after so many years where he was tossed around by people being catty or purposely setting him up as the butt of a joke. That's how he got started in making the fool of himself, to begin with. To own that.

He tugs at the rolled cuff at his elbow, breathing deep and starting to fidget with his tie after it swings when he moves. He tugs on it, tightening it a little just to feel the tension at his throat.] You - We were talking about like...

[He shakes his head, the words pour through his fingers like sand before he can grab at them. He can pick out different things but it feels like so much to tackle, too difficult to encapsulate in words when he's already so goddamn bad at them. He tips back his head and groans, staring up at the ceiling and resisting the urge to keep tightening his tie until he can't breathe.] Why are you maaaking me saaay this - it's so fucking embarrassing?

I have feelings. [There, are you happy?]

Since we got here I've been stressed out and jealous and the only times I've been able to sleep comfortably are when I'm with you. You calm me down and even just - being in your room makes me feel like there's somebody out there for me. You're the first person I go to when shit's gone bad, too? You're my best friend, dude. And I don't know if I'm messing it all up in my head or what, maybe I'm confusing my feelings but they're still feelings. About you?

[He's still staring at the ceiling, hand still and resting on his tie. He's actually a bit paler for all of this, his nervousness bled away into a scared sort of fright. He doesn't understand his feelings and there's going to be a lot of trying to sort them out. It's daunting but he can't run. He closes his eyes and he just - wants this to be over. He's made such a mistake, this is where it ends and he just disappoints Odin by being unable to make sense of himself.]

I don't want you to date anyone here. That means you - leave, you love someone else and it's selfish and stupid but I don't want that? I want you to be happy but I want us to be the same. I want us to stay the same. Have what we have. I want - ah, I want... us. You. I like you? Don't date other people. Okay? Good. Cool. Fuck.

[ Of course he's happy.

Something hitches in his throat and he stands from the bed, sudden as anything. He actually said it? He actually said it. Feelings. There's no restraining that stupid, stupid dopey grin on Odin's face anymore, and he wipes at his lip to ease the ache he left from biting into it so hard. Fuck, he was already starting to smile a little too widely when Peter started whining about how this is just so embarrassing but now it's out there and it's-- it's his, this is his, this memory is his, this moment is his, Odin has this. ]

Peter.

[ He throws the name out before he even thinks through what he wants to say, and he grips the front of his hoodie with both hands, twisting the cotton. All of this rings somewhere in his head - Peter's always been the first person he's gone to, always been his best friend - and he gets the jealousy, gets the nervousness. He never really knew what he wanted from this show, and Peter always told him to just have fun, but the funnest moments he's had on this island have all been with him. ]

You-- I.

[ He looks at him for help, suddenly speechless and struggling to vocalize his thoughts. This isn't like him, but-- on the other hand, it totally fucking is? Always failing at the last minute, always doing the wrong thing, always stumbling over the parts that matter. He's starting to feel himself get crushed under the weight of all that disappointment he has in himself, and he twists his fists in his hoodie even tighter to get through it.

He takes a deep breath and dives into this. Dives off that cliff, ready to drown in open waters. ]

I don't want us to stay the same.

[ There's so much he wants to say, and he tries to, tripping over ums and uhs that pour from him as he hastens to explain. He gets angry and pulls on the hem of his hoodie, finding a loose thread and tearing it out so he can fidget with it in his hands, pulling it and breaking it and wrapping it around his fingers. God. ]

I don't want us to just be friends. I don't want us to stay the same if staying the same means we're... friends. Because. Feelings. Feel. I feel. I also them. Those.

[ ... ]

I mean-- it's-- fuck. I have feelings for you? And, like. I was fine with it? I was fine with just thinking, like, hey, it's okay that I've got a thing for someone who won't ever have a thing for me back, because it's just nice that I'm capable of-- of having that. I didn't think I would. Ever. After Poe. And.

And I do. For you. So I want... not... same... staying.

[ a pause. ]

Oh, and I won't date other people. Sorry. I should have started with that.

[Peter stands still. Stiller than he's ever stood before in his life, like a few words from Odin have turned him to stone while he processes them. His eyes blink open and the ceiling is there to greet him, as well as a crink in the neck as he slowly lowers his chin to straighten up and look at Odin. Odin who's gotten to his feet. Odin who's standing in front of him, saying much smarter things than Peter did - but also Odin who is giving Peter pause.]

You - You had a thing for me? [There's no doubt that the look on Peter's face reflects just how much he is caught off guard by this revelation, brows furrowing and gaze briefly deflecting. It is, of course, relieving to hear but still puzzling because since when do people have things for him? He lucked into a relationship with Jean and he's feeling like he lucked out here without rejection from Odin. But. Wow? He feels a flutter in his chest and just sort of rubs over his sternum, tangling his fingers up in his tie.

Poe's name is a bit acidic but Peter's swept away by a half dozen other emotions and doesn't dwell on it, even if seeing Poe the other day was a prickling push toward this too. Poe's a whole topic to look at later, something he doesn't even want to begin to sort through now. Peter loses his words now, shaping a few but falling into silence because he's still a little side swept.

He has to ask:] Since when?

[But then he thinks better of it, rubbing his face and feeling the heat in his cheeks as he carries on talking instead of waiting for an answer. He lets out a half laugh, embarrassed but happy and feeling a bit stupid too. He's felt stupid all day, that won't let up for a while.]

God. I'm stupid - Sorry, I just. I didn't know? Which is kinda ir- is... wait, hold on. Is that why you asked me if I would've been on your show? [Peter's brain is slamming on the brakes now, finally able to gather some of the conversations that made him feel quote unquote "weird" but seeing them in a whole new light. Jesus fucking Christ, no wonder. He loses the nervousness again, distracted by the sense of realization and stepping almost excited towards Odin.]

Dude, that conversation was one of the - the reasons I started to think...

[ It's kind of Peter to think, on whatever level, that so I want not same staying is an intelligent thing to say. Odin's steadily gaining more and more confidence from this, even if the way Peter stumbles at the revelation makes the butterflies in his stomach flutter more urgently than they already had been. He watches Peter's hands, watches the way they get lost in that tie, and he clenches his teeth, going red. Fuck.

He pulls on the drawstrings of his hood, dragging the lengths out from one side to the other, and he needs a little while to answer the question, which-- is good, actually, because Peter keeps stumbling over his thoughts and saying more things, more things that make Odin happy, more things that build his confidence and make every anxious nerve in his stomach twitch and dance a little harder. His hands are sweaty and he wipes them on his pants, his knee is starting to bounce and just-- fuck, too much energy, there's too much energy in his body, he needs to focus it on something.

There's one moment of hesitation before he's stepping forward, closing the gap between them, and he doesn't kiss Peter, not yet, but it's there, he's about to. He's an inch away, not looking directly at Peter, far too god damn nervous. He lowers his voice to a whisper, his breath ghosting over Peter's lips, and then he's leaning in, leaning into this, seizing his hope for what this is and fucking dragging himself down with it. ]

A while. [ He shuts his eyes, crashes their lips together. It's fast and it's fleeting but it's enough to ground him, fingers tangled in Peter's hair, just-- touching him, touching Peter, holding him close. He pulls back from the kiss before it can really get anywhere, and he laughs, a little, nervous like he's still not sure where this is going to go. ] A-A while. It's--

It's been a long time coming. I think. So if-- if you want-- to date? It's-- [ haaah. He flicks his eyes up, making contact, letting go of Peter's hair to rest his hand on his neck, stroking soothing lines over skin. ] Would you? With me. Be. Into. Interested.

[Peter's used to being able to react fast to anything, to not be caught so unaware by something so simple as someone walking toward him - but this takes the ground out from under him and he feels startled by just how close Odin is. He anticipates what will come next with a drop in his stomach and a - curious, inquisitive pang in his chest. Elation at the closeness, an allure he hasn't felt in a while.

Their lips meet and he doesn't know what it means, if it should mean anything, he can't attach the strongest of emotions to this kiss because it's the whole moment that means something to him. The kiss is just an action on top of everything else, one he presses into before peeling back with a shallow breath and the thud of his heart in his throat again. It's slowly creeping its way up beat by beat.

He can't figure what to do with his hands so he just stands there not doing anything with them, one still tangled in his tie and tugging on it before he unloops it. He itches to put his hands on Odin but doesn't know how, so he just curls the fingers of one hand into the hem of his sweatshirt and tugs it toward him to keep them anchored.]

I don't know if... [He murmurs, eyes clouded with thought - clearly he's not filtering himself and he catches up to what he's saying after a beat, blinking his gaze into more clarity as he seems to suddenly realize they've made eye contact. He sucks in a deep breath, head inclined to the side that Odin's hand rests on his neck.]

That's not a no, it's just... I don't know if I'm ready for other people to kn- Shit, other people can't know. You... You're the star of a dating show, for Christ's sake. You can't be hooking up with - actually, Debra'd like that but I'm...

[H e n g h] I'm talking too much. I'd be interested.

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