Brainiac 5 | Querl Dox (post-zero hour) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
googledox) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
goneawayworld2020-05-19 07:38 pm
googledox) wrote in goneawayworld2020-05-19 07:38 pm
in a holding pattern - [closed to Robbie]
Who: closed to Brainy and Robbie
What: Some quiet talking
Where: Their room.
When: Before "Shifting the Paradigm"
Warnings/Notes: N/A
[There is only occasional comms chatter worth tuning into, there's nothing he can think to do at the moment, especially since they need to bide their time. There is no lab to work in, he hasn't yet earned Infirmary access.]
[There is nothing for Querl to do and understandably that means he's going certifiably insane. So he tries to entertain himself. When he walks into their room for the evening, he's carrying a massive stack of books. Shockingly, they're not all about science, but that's actually not that shocking when you consider he knows more than any of the science books here could teach him. The science books here are Coluan grade-school level; he included a few so he could have a laugh or two, but the rest are just...books. Thick ones. Human literature, sometimes with long Russian names. Real brick-ey stuff.]
[Not really something he's usually interested in, but needs must.]
[He reads in companionable mostly-silence and finishes each book in less than five minutes. He's no speedster, so his hands can't move super fast, but he takes in each page like a photocopy, instantly parses it, and moves on, so it only takes him as long as physically flipping through each book. The science books do indeed provoke a few "ha!"s at the comical incorrectness, and some of the literature is predictable but mildly diverting.]
[But it takes him a very short time to work through the whole stack. When he's finished, he looks at the pile, does the mental math of how many non-children's books were in the library, based on the shelving and average book spine width, cross-references it with the speed he can read X number of pages and -]
[And realizes that he's going to wind up working through the entire library in a very short amount of time.]
[Which is why he checks his omnicom again, sees there's not much going on yet after that discussion with Saturday, considers making another run against Jormgund, doing...something, decides it's reckless, and then throws one of the books at the wall at the foot of his little bunk cubby with smack.]
[Sinking deeper into his fit of pique, he kicks the pile of books off the foot of his bed, so they thud on the floor, like a bored cat knocking something of a shelf just because, and huffs out an annoyed sound.]
What: Some quiet talking
Where: Their room.
When: Before "Shifting the Paradigm"
Warnings/Notes: N/A
[There is only occasional comms chatter worth tuning into, there's nothing he can think to do at the moment, especially since they need to bide their time. There is no lab to work in, he hasn't yet earned Infirmary access.]
[There is nothing for Querl to do and understandably that means he's going certifiably insane. So he tries to entertain himself. When he walks into their room for the evening, he's carrying a massive stack of books. Shockingly, they're not all about science, but that's actually not that shocking when you consider he knows more than any of the science books here could teach him. The science books here are Coluan grade-school level; he included a few so he could have a laugh or two, but the rest are just...books. Thick ones. Human literature, sometimes with long Russian names. Real brick-ey stuff.]
[Not really something he's usually interested in, but needs must.]
[He reads in companionable mostly-silence and finishes each book in less than five minutes. He's no speedster, so his hands can't move super fast, but he takes in each page like a photocopy, instantly parses it, and moves on, so it only takes him as long as physically flipping through each book. The science books do indeed provoke a few "ha!"s at the comical incorrectness, and some of the literature is predictable but mildly diverting.]
[But it takes him a very short time to work through the whole stack. When he's finished, he looks at the pile, does the mental math of how many non-children's books were in the library, based on the shelving and average book spine width, cross-references it with the speed he can read X number of pages and -]
[And realizes that he's going to wind up working through the entire library in a very short amount of time.]
[Which is why he checks his omnicom again, sees there's not much going on yet after that discussion with Saturday, considers making another run against Jormgund, doing...something, decides it's reckless, and then throws one of the books at the wall at the foot of his little bunk cubby with smack.]
[Sinking deeper into his fit of pique, he kicks the pile of books off the foot of his bed, so they thud on the floor, like a bored cat knocking something of a shelf just because, and huffs out an annoyed sound.]
no subject
Stretched out atop the covers, he keeps thinking about Jorgmund as a company and its methods. Robbie wants to understand how they got to this point, using “new hires” as slave labour under threat of pain, but he already knows that he’ll never really understand, because he’d never make that choice himself. If they’d just explained and asked for his help, he probably would’ve given it freely. It’s so unnecessary, given what he and the other new hires already know. The whole truth must be another level of bad for sentient rights to be abandoned.
When he hears someone enter their cell, Robbie props himself up enough to check who it is and flops back down when he sees that it’s Brainy. Or rather, when he sees green hands supporting a large stack of books. ]
A little light reading, I see.
[ Querl settles into to read on paper without any disparaging comments about wasted resources or outdated technology. Robbie almost misses that. The lack of such critiques feels like how he’s lying here thinking. Like they’re giving in to the tedium to save their fight for later. Just a step above giving up.
The speed at which Brainy turns the pages makes Robbie press his teeth together to stop the flinch. It’s constant, and he can’t ask Querl to turn the pages quietly. It’s rude, maybe, or else it’s that he knows it would just drive them both crazy because the pages would still be continuously turning and Querl would be annoyed by having to read agonizingly slowly.
So he sucks it up. His thought exercise wasn’t improving his mood. At least one of them is entertained. Robbie closes his eyes and tries to think of ear worm songs to drown out the rustling paper. Somewhere around Selena Gomez, Brainy finishes reading. His brain has barely hit the first verse of “November Rain” when a loud thump jolts him out of it.
Robbie’s sitting up and looking around for the source of the noise, about to ask Querl if he heard that, when Querl kicks the rest of the books off his bunk.
Oh. That’s what that sound was. Well, at least it wasn’t a body hitting a wall. Robbie slides out of bed and starts stacking the scattered books on the floor by his own bunk. ]
So they’re not Pulitzer winners, is that the takeaway here? I didn’t have you down as a philosophical novel kind of guy.
[ He hefts a book that isn’t by Tolstoy or Dostoevsky, but should be, from the looks of it. A small portion of the book (so only like 100 pages) were awkwardly creased by the impact. Robbie starts carefully smoothing them again. ]
Completely unrelated- but what are the library rules about book borrowing?
[ Anything that would suggest that Robbie needs to stop Brainy from chucking more tomes around the room? ]
no subject
They're very good books - if you like predictable plots and trite philosophical navelgazing.
[He's close to maximum pique, and it's making it very clear why people head for the hills anytime Brainy is remotely bored. Some of the Legionnaires have half-joking, half-serious horror stories about when they'd been stuck in Earth's past, and how they'd had an alarm code they called whenever it was clear Brainy'd sneaked off their base.]
[Brainy fully owned up to how much an agent of chaos he'd been, doing things like releasing Brainiac from imprisonment to try to use him for his own ends, for instance.]
They're at least mildly less banal than Coluan literature, so good for humanity.
[It's a bit of an insult and genuine compliment bundled together. He does think humans tend to be superior at the arts, it's just he doesn't value the arts that much in general.]
no subject
And I’m assuming they want them back in the condition they left in.
[ He doesn’t mean for it to be a dig. Robbie figures that Brainy just doesn’t know. After all, Robbie can’t remember seeing a single physical book being read by a native Legionnaire. What’s a matter of course for Robbie can’t be assumed for the 31st century.
He doesn’t want to leave that hanging in the air, though. Pissy people shouldn’t be poked too much. ]
I don’t know if I’ll read them. Usually old books that thick were published as serials in magazines, so it incentivized drawing the plot out way too long. It’s why A Christmas Carol is a classic, but Great Expectations is a slog. When you’re getting paid by the word, you throw in every plot you can get your hands on like it’s decoupage trope salad.
[ He stacks the last book neatly on the others and laughs at the height of the stack. ]
I don’t think I’ve seen you read a real book. I kind of just thought - not thought, but operated - like you knew everything as soon as it was knowable. Which I know isn’t how it is, but it’s how it looks to the rest of us when you take it in so fast. Of course it’s all banal to you - you’ve got thousands of years of stories behind you, you’ve probably read most of them, and there’s a finite number of themes in the universe until you invent new emotions for us to act on.
[ Robbie shifts to sit cross legged, leaning back on the frame of the bunk to look up at Querl. ]
You know, I don’t know what your favourite book is. I know it doesn’t matter here, but if you’ve got time to tolerate someone else’s trite navelgazing and I’m just laying around navelgazing, we could fix that. It’s actually going to bother me now that I’ve noticed it.
no subject
[It drills down to the two of them just...talking. Relating to each other as people. And that always feels comfortable. He relaxes a little, hands on his chest as he lays there in his bed.]
I don't actually read much literature. Or take in much of the arts in general. Coluans tend to value math and the sciences over everything else. We have artists but other than some surrealist and abstract movements similar to the human Dadaist and Expressionist movements, they tend to focus on very structured art styles. And fractals. And architecture.
So much boring architecture. Everything had to be mathematic and symmetrical.
[Talking to Robbie is a lot less boring than reading, why didn't he think to do this first?]
While basic pattern recognition makes it difficult to ever be surprised by books, learning to enjoy them is something you're taught. I learned some basics, enough to function in society, but my schooling was geared towards the fields I was expected to be productive in.
[It's taken some time, but he's slowly learning to acknowledge the past, to not try to skirt around it with the diplomatic wording he might've used once.]
It seems like an appreciation for those things needs to be...cultivated. By someone.
[A teacher, a parent, friends who are into stuff. Someone. Someone that isn't robots and people that only care about engineering deliverables.]
To be honest, I've always admired how well read you are. I know what I specialize in is significant, but I understand the value of being well rounded.
no subject
He asked about Brainy’s favourite book because it feels like a significant hole in their friendship that needs to be plugged - Robbie likes books, Brainy’s smart which has always gone hand-in-hand with books. He feels like he should apologize for not asking sooner. ]
Well rounded. That and a nickel will get you on the subway in 1910. I was never really great at math or science - I wasn’t bad at them by 21st century Earth standards, but the one thing my parents agreed on was that I wasn’t going into a STEM field, so I coasted in those classes as much as I could without tanking my GPA. I learned more from you than I did at school.
[ And he knows that Brainy’s dumbed it down to the point where it’s the equivalent of reading Hawkins as a picture book. ]
No, not Dadaism. It’s the worst, worse than the symmetric architecture because you can at least make an argument about sentients having an instinctive love of symmetry and the golden ratio. Art’s supposed to evoke feeling - the fractals and square buildings might seem boring, but when you look at a perfectly symmetric building with only one window offset by a foot and recoil. That’s when you understand the beauty of symmetry and how pleasantly right it was making you feel until then.
Books are like that. Forget wanting to be surprised- dadaism is trying to surprise you with pencil shovels; we’ve established surprise is usually crap. Good books are all about how the words are strung together, and the best ones carve out paragraphs that hit you so hard that you can’t see a way to rephrase them without ruining the effect. Like “The world breaks every one and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry.” How do you say that any other way?
[ Another thing Robbie’s very good at: running his mouth. There’s nothing dangerous in what he’s said, if Jorgmund cares, and he doubts he’s bothering Querl. Yet he feels like he’s overshared, somehow, been too freely himself with things that have no bearing on anything useful. He stops out of a confused shame at going on about his opinions on literature and art, when Robbie should be dedicated to toppling Jorgmund. ]
Anyway... if you want recommendations, I can give you some, but there’s no guarantee the books are the same here.
no subject
I never got into it much but I can see the appeal of celebrating the other, that which is outside the social order. Especially since some of it emphasizes seeing beauty in things that are flawed.
[He's got more of a knack for understanding art than he thinks, but anything he's not a total master in he doesn't really see his knowledge as complete.]
There's a human form of art, with pottery, that evokes some similar principles. I remember we saved an exhibit at the Metropolis museum with it. Where broken ceramics are put back together again with gold. [He never caught the name of the art form, just the curator describing the art.] The cracks become part of the form's beauty, what was broken is made whole, even if it will never be the same.
[Which one of the two of them is he talking about now? Both, he thinks. It suits them both. And aligns well with the Hemingway, not that he can recognize the author.]
Strong at the broken places.
[His voice goes softer.]
And I would like that. Recommendations. I suppose the value must be in the emotional progression rather than the surprise. I feel that you might understand what would appeal.
[Robbie may not be able to dance toe to toe with his intellect, but on an emotional level, they...resonate. In many ways. And he likes the idea of reading through a book, tracing he path Robbie's mind wound though it, playing a guessing game of what things moved him. ]
Besides, with the science I taught you, turnabout makes fair play. I have very little experience with it, but I'm told that not excelling at almost everything you do is sentientizing.
[The grin is smug. Mostly ironic, but definitely a little smug.]
no subject
[ The reflected grin is impish, but Robbie can feel the blush creeping up to his ears when Querl continues to weave together the art and literature comparisons that Robbie started. He’s further humiliated by his own embarrassment. Brainy doesn’t know that Robbie memorized that quote because he loved and hated the truth of it. Tying it something beautiful, the emphasis on the broken places becoming stronger when he feels scabbed over and raw at the worst of it. To have something he identifies with refined into something beautiful is awkward, and Robbie’s mentally shuffling in his vulnerability, trying to not even appear like he’s cocky enough to take it as a compliment.
It’s just a discussion. He needs to stop being stupid and deinvest, because he’s perfectly capable of handling more complimentary language when it’s superficial. ]
They’re Japanese. Those bowls with the gold.
[ Robbie adds this, in case Querl was wondering. It really isn’t like Robbie catalogs every broken thing in existence, but he does know the pottery in question. It’s rare that he knows something Brainy doesn’t, and he enjoys showing off when he can contribute knowledge. ]
I don’t think telling you about some old books makes up for all the work you’ve put in. And - you don’t need sentientizing. I’m allowed to tell you that you need to loosen up, but I refuse to play along with this myth that there’s everyone else, and then there’s Brainiac 5.
no subject
[His expression grows even softer and then he can't quite meet Robbie's eyes. A deep green blush flushes over his face, despite his best intentions.]
[He feels very...seen. And he looks pleased.]
[He's quiet for a moment.]
I don't think anyone's ever asked me what my favorite book is. [He raises an eyebrow.] It's not exactly anyone's fault, when I purposefully cultivated emotional distance between myself and others, and dismissed any past-time other than pursuit of scientific knowledge as a waste of time...
[He does partly blame himself for cutting such an intimidating figure that even when his friends started to get him to socialize more they didn't dare engage in any behavior that might be treated as prying, terrified he'd get hostile over it.]
But the fact remains.
no subject
[ And Brainy’s blushing over something. Robbie knows why he blushed in reaction to being exposed and indirectly praised, but he’s done nothing to touch on Querl’s sensitivities. He plays back what lead to this, and it’s only simple truths.
He shifts onto his knees and leans to the side to look at Brainy in the eyes again. ]
You’re not as good at “cultivating emotional distance” and dismissing other pastimes as you think you are. You had emotional distance from me for like five minutes and you blew it, because we clicked. Ha, no. I read you like an open book. Nailed it!
[ Two points for keeping the similes on theme. ]
Seriously, Querl... you’re allowed to say that people haven’t put in an effort with you. Yeah, we can’t demand that everyone accommodate our hang-ups, but getting to know you wasn’t hard. It was fun. Which is why I want to know stupid things like what your favourite book is, because we skipped all that. I know Rich loves Star Wars, I know Vance’s favourite takeout, I know where Nita got her train wreck gem-encrusted uniform. Give me stuff like that.
no subject
You don't know who I was, Robbie. You met me after I was properly housetrained.
Had you met me, oh, eight years ago? I would have chewed you up and spat you out, and that's even despite the age difference. I would've treated you like you were a sentimental fool, insulted your intelligence, and acted like your empathy towards others was a waste of time and a sign of weak character.
And I would have targeted your insecurities. Your regrets. Frivolously, like it was open season on people's traumas at all times. Everything that we - that we bonded over when we first met, the empathy we showed each other, never would've happened. After seeing your Legionnaire Legacy and gaining ammunition, I would've trotted out things that would've been heinous to throw in your face the very first time you annoyed me.
And you would have annoyed me constantly because at that time, I looked down on kindness and hated fun with the red hot sucking intensity of a thousand black holes.
[He wrings his hands together, avoiding his gaze.]
I was a bully. A verbally abusive bully. I may have had my reasons, my traumas that nobody knew about, but there are only so many times you keep extending your hand openly in friendship after getting bitten repeatedly. I taught them not to pry, not to be too effusively kind or friendly, not to dig too personally.
Over time, they realized I had come to care, and my friends found ways to express that they loved me for it, but they also saw the barrier I'd constructed and had just as much difficulty getting over their anxiety in making a thousandth attempt to traverse it as I've had difficulty trying to dismantle it.
[He finally looks at Robbie with raised eyebrows.]
With the displacee Legionnaires, I got to start over with you. My other friends try to include me and they're not afraid of me, but they are afraid of offending me somehow.
[He doesn't seem angry with himself or anyone else. He doesn't seem sad. He's just being honest, so Robbie understands something else about him. So he's not surprised if he ever finds out more about his past. So he understands how he got here, in this place, of people not asking about his interests after so many times of getting shut down.]
I say all this so you understand that it's much fairer to say I was the one that didn't put in the effort with them.
no subject
From this position, Robbie looks like a supplicant. He shakes his head emphatically, and his voice is thick with emotion at the very notion that he’s going to throw stones. Querl didn’t say that he’s worried, but of course he is. It’s impossible for a good person to share the worst of himself and not be inwardly shaking at the risk. ]
I am the least person to judge you.
[ He doesn’t have a leg to stand on, when it comes to personal issues and personality conflicts. After what he’s done to his friends - he attacked some of them. He put renegade heroes in the hospital, and Brainy’s confessing to having been a bully. Robbie was a bully. A zealot. ]
You know my life. You’ve seen what I’ve done. Who you were made you who you are, and I... like you, so I can appreciate it on some weird level, but I have no opinion on it.
[ Ordinarily, he wouldn’t stumble on the word like. He likes his friends. It’s easy to admit, and Robbie wants to say it more often. Because he knows how good it feels to be validated and bask in attention. But everything with Brainy’s ... charged, and Robbie’s hesitant to use a word that’s going to confuse both of them.
Because he doesn’t know how he’s defining like either. ]
I’m not trying to knock the other Legionnaires, either. I didn’t know. So I’m not giving anyone a hard time.
[ He breaks to give Brainy a reassuring grin. ]
Not harder than normal. And you still haven’t answered the question! You could drive a person crazy, you know that?
no subject
[Brainy gets a little lost in the reassuring grin and then cycles through multiple possible answers. A safe thing would be to list some scientific treatise and poo poo reading fiction but he's already sat here and read a whole stack of books trying to be less bored. He's asked for recommendations.]
Goodnight, Moon. [Robbie gave Merl that one.] It's one of the only picture books Merl still insists on because he likes when I say good night to everything with him and we've changed the verses to be more fitting for a space station.
[It's a very soft, very legitimate reason to like a book...that still skirts around the whole truth. So Querl offers that up, too. Instead of dancing around it like he'd done in the past.]
Coluan children sometimes reach non-science books, but those are for fun, and I wasn't...I wasn't allowed fun. Fun wasn't productive, you see. So it never became a habit.
That's why I don't have a favorite book of my own. It's why I don't have a favorite movie, either. It's why I only started to listen to music as an adult, and why I'm self conscious about it enough that I pretend that I never do. It's why I play video games with the others but only if they don't know I'm doing it because I'm completely annihilating them with what they are think are only npcs.
[It may not be a favorite book but those are a few somethings that Robbie definitely doesn't know.]
But Merl will get to have have as many ever-changing favorites in as many categories as he wants.
no subject
That Querl is still reciting it every night to his son warms him to the core. Maybe he carries Merl around the station, and they wish everything goodnight together. The mental image is sweet enough to hurt, and Robbie isn’t a parent.
He swallows. Robbie knows Brainy misses his son, but he brought this up, right? ]
You’re a good dad, Q. You’re such a good dad.
[ He wants to tell Brainy that he thinks it’s beautiful how much he cares for Merl and that he is absolutely allowed to claim Goodnight Moon as his favourite book, but Robbie doesn’t want to trigger a new bout of ennui by lingering on this. ]
So that’s your favourite. Don’t let anybody tell you it’s for kids. My favourite’s probably The Outsiders, and that’s for teenagers. There’s the one character, Johnny - I know I’m more like Two-Bit, but... ah, no spoilers, you’ll see when you read it.
[ He identifies so strongly with Johnny Cade. The parents who don’t notice unless it’s dramatic, the substitution of a gang of friends for family, being the youngest and smallest and something of a pet. Doing what’s needed, and doing what’s right despite the cost. But his death could never have the ripples Johnny’s did. ]
We’re going to find you favourites when we get home. Books, tunes, movies, you name it. You don’t have to be self conscious. It’s like the club. It’s our experiment. We can use my faves as the control group and go from there. It’s not just Merl that can have favourites. You’ve got the same freedom; you just got to lean out and grab the brass ring. That ... probably doesn’t translate. New plan 0: we’re going to Martha’s Vineyard. You’re riding the carousel until you get the brass ring or puke, and then we hit the library.
[ Yes. Good plan. Something to aim for that isn’t getting Brainy home to Merl, which makes that pit in Robbie’s stomach ache. ]
no subject
[Maybe it's the way Robbie tries to gently pull him into a private little world, where he gets to be just...a person. Not a dispensary of technology, whose role is often transactional (even if he's loved for it.) Maybe it's because that all started with Robbie demonstrating a relentless desire to stand by him during the absolute worst time in his life.]
[Maybe it's the earnestness in wanting to give him so many things he never had and always deserved to have. Because when he was younger, he had wanted those things, he'd had dreams of his mother coming back from wherever she had gone, and taking him into her arms. Reading him stories, making him cookies, cooing over his cleverness in science fairs.]
[But then she'd tried to kill him. Stripped off his skin in scalding agony. He still had some small scars, where the grafts met up. And no one else wanted to give him that, the happy things he'd hoped for.]
[Instead, there had been times in his life where he'd been a small boy, alone, in an apartment in Metropolis, standing on step tools to reach the stove. No one to guide him, to draw him into normal things. For most of his childhood he'd had no friends.]
[The devotion is palpable. Let me give you everything you didn't have, let me give you the world. He feels the same desire to do that for Robbie too, and also to make so many things "ours" - books, movies, experiences, time - feels it down to the tips of his toes, vibrating to his finger tips.]
[In the past, he'd had trouble reconciling them all: logic, intuition, emotion. But he's gotten better over the years. Merl has helped so much with that, in such a short time. Helped him learn to let the emotion and affection just bubble over.]
[Brainy slips off the edge of his bed, onto his knees. On Robbie's level. Because he doesn't want to do this with Robbie kneeling before him in supplication and gentle worship. He wants them to be equals.]
[His eyes are bright and sharp. His next movement is fast, but gentle. Forceful, but not so much it's impossible for Robbie to break away. Breath freezing in his lungs, he gently cups Robbie's face with both hands and places a gentle kiss on his lips.]
no subject
And when Querl kissed him - actually kissed him, holy shit. Someone wants to kiss him. He should’ve thrown himself backwards and run then. But it’s Querl, something inside of him screams in revolt, and you swore you’d protect him. Querl likes him, and Robbie’s allowed it. He could’ve distanced weeks ago, but he’s never considered it. Cutting Brainy out of his life is too big of an ask, even on Brainy’s unwilling behalf. He can’t reject him so blatantly and cruelly.
Or at all. Because his head is caught up in thoughts and inaction, and won’t give signal for his hands to reach out or his mouth to do more than yield to Brainy’s, but his body leans into the kiss. He doesn’t press up against him, doesn’t notice what he’s done. It’s a soft sway closer that promises all liberties taken will have permission granted.
Robbie doesn’t want to break off the kiss. He knows he should, but then they’ll have to talk what this was. What it is. What it might be. Robbie doesn’t know what’s safe to say, so it’s safer hiding here in this moment with his eyes and mouth shut, pretending the world doesn’t exist if he can’t see it.
Someone is kissing him because he wants to. Someone thoughtful who cleared a space to attentively ignore Robbie. A friend. An alien. A teammate. A single father. In this moment, none of that seems wrong. Querl wants this, and he touches Robbie like he’s precious. Like he matters. Which he does, to Querl. He believes that, as crazy as it sounds. Doc wouldn’t tell him if it was wrong to want to make Brainy happy. Everything was ifs and maybes and caveats. There’s no room for provisions in this barely there kiss. It’s only just a kiss.
So Robbie lets it happen, and trembles. It’s not wrong. He’s not sure if it’s right, but being wanted... maybe wanting someone... it’s not wrong. ]
no subject
[So he lingers there. It's a very chaste kiss. Neither of them has any experience at this and anything more would be intrusive. They still have so much to talk about, to consider, to decide. So he keeps it light, but still filled with gentle affection.]
[And promise.]
[When he finally pulls away, hands still gently cradling Robbie's face, he lets out the breath he'd been holding. His hands slip away, in case they're not welcome, tracing along the line of his jaw.]
[Brainy's face is still slightly flushed, his gaze is gentle.]
[And then suddenly a little afraid. Did he trespass here? He isn't sure if he just forced something on him. He can't read people well, one of the hazards of having been raised by unfeeling robots.]
Sprock. I - I shouldn't have done that before we talked about everything. It's just - you're always so...
[He briefly opens his mouth, searching for the words. The only one he can really settle on is:]
You.
[His hand moves towards Robbie's face in an abortive gesture, him starting to reach towards it to caress it again, but thinking better of it, he draws it back. At least until he's sure it's okay.]
I know this isn't an ideal place and time for us to talk about any of it or make any decisions but with the lives we lead there never really is an ideal time.
[The next part is hard to say because it's hard to be vulnerable but he says it, earnestly, a bit of an ache in his voice.]
And it seems I keep...wanting this.
no subject
I keep wanting this.
It hurts, and Robbie wants it to hurt and wants it to stop hurting. Because Robbie keeps wanting part of this too. He wants Brainy’s attention and approval, and now he has it entirely.
He should be thrilled to have someone he likes and respects so much telling him that he’s such a temptation that Querl can’t stay aloof. The tightness in his chest is building, and Robbie just wants to hug his knees to his chest, preferably in the dark, and ride the edge of a panic attack until Brainy just gives up. He’s taken worse advantage of Querl than any of the other Legionnaires because he’s unequipped to deliver on the expectations. ]
We don’t need to talk. It’s fine.
[ Oh dammit. That’s like saying the kiss sucked, and it didn’t. It was sweet and loose and innocent. There wasn’t any pressure from the kiss. It’s all from Robbie himself, because he’s scared that he’s too damaged and inexperienced to navigate this situation to an unclear destination without breaking them both. ]
I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry - I’m bad at this. I can’t talk about this because I don’t know what I’m doing. It’s embarrassing, and I thought that rock bottom meant there’s nothing left to be embarrassed, but then you, you just fit like you were always there and then you change everything like it’s nothing.
[ He scooches back a few inches, and his body language is small, with slouched shoulders and a bowed head. He kneads his thighs with his hands, digging his thumbs in, and tries to stay engaged and really present so he can get through this. ]
Nobody wants me. Sometimes I still think nobody should, and you’re you. How can you have taste this bad? You could have someone with his shit together, like Val.
[ He’s barely audible, and the bands tightening around his chest must be real, because his voice is a rasp. Robbie scrubs at his face, and his palms are wet. ]
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[Which means Robbie struggling slightly in navigating his own is fine.]
As for who I should want, how fortunate that having one's nass together doesn't even rank as a trait I would need in someone I'm romantically interested in.
Besides, I have my nass so together it more then compensates for that not being the case with someone I'm with. I'm stable enough emotionally that if someone I'm dating is working through complicated emotions, them having difficulty will not hurt my feelings.
[He curls a hand against his chest, as if he's trying to reach in and draw out what's inside it, so he can hand it over to Robbie directly.]
Is it that shocking after the life I've lived that the traits I find most appealing are kindness, empathy, and gentleness? You're selfless and altruistic. You're resilient and tenacious when trying to protect others. You've turned your mistakes into a source of empathy and suffering into strength.
But I also understand how difficult it is for you to accept affection and I understand why. If this must be postponed until we're in better surrounds and you're in a better mental place, or if you feel a relationship is something you can't engage in at all, it's perfectly acceptable.
[He reaches out a hand again, slowly, because Robbie is acting like a cornered animal and gently grasps his shoulder, rubbing it reassuringly. Only for a moment, then he lets go to give him his space.]
You've made how much you care about me as a friend clear enough that no matter what your answer is, I still feel cared for. You've treated me with so much kindness, you can't break my heart, no matter what you decide.
What you have to decide is what might break your own.
[Robbie's laid enough of a groundwork of a friendship, he won't break him with a "no." He's not made of spun glass. Robbie just has to work through his feelings and decide what he needs.]
The reason I would like a romantic relationship is that there are different dimensions of affection you can shows someone, but that isn't necessary for a relationship to be fulfilling. Especially with a friendship like ours. Romantic feelings can fade back to a fulfilling friendship if not encouraged.
[He's had more than one crush not work out, he didn't drop dead of heart ache.]
But regardless of who you think I should want...I want you. Regardless of any mistakes you've made, or times you've been untrue to yourself, I like who you've chosen to be now. I like how much you make me feel cared for even just as a friend. I like how you treat others.
[A pause.]
I also find you very physically attractive. A situation where it would be more permissive to do things like play with your hair has considerable appeal.
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[ It’s a lot to take in - selfless in particular makes him squirm - but it helps to hear the rationale laid out so plainly.
It takes the doubt about Querl out of the equation. Maybe neither of them know what they’re doing, but Brainy’s thought this through. ]
I wish I had your brain. Not for the science and math, you can keep all that. I want the room to know me and my own head. I would know what to say if I could think like you. On Earth, you’re supposed to get a plant, and then a pet, and then a relationship, but I keep killing the plants when I don’t forget to buy them. Then I ask myself if I even start there, because I kept Niels alive.
I - does it have to be friendship or relationship? I need more options than that. One that makes you happy and me secure.
[ And here he fumbles, because he doesn’t know what that looks like anymore. He did, twenty minutes ago. But if they both had what they wanted, nothing would’ve changed.
It feels like everything changed. ]
You know how everyone says “it’s complicated”? I get why they do that. Labels make it real, and like you said, there are different dimensions of affection. Everything is complicated right now, and that was before I had this urge to say to tell you that you’re cute too. I don’t think I’ve said that to anybody in years.
[ He touches the ends of his hair distractedly. They hang almost to his shoulders now, thanks to determinedly not cutting it. It was the centrepiece of picking up his old life as Robbie Baldwin. He had to have the flow. It’s 70% how you look, 20% how you sound, and 10 percent what you say.
He’s seen some of the shearings the other new hires have received, but his has remained untouched.
Robbie tips his head towards Querl, and a curtain of shaggy blond hair falls into his face. He hides behind it and avoids looking at Brainy. ]
If that’s what you want, you can. You’re allowed to touch my hair. It doesn’t have to mean we’re all in. It’s just hair. We can just... try and see what’s good.
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I think that means if we pursue anything we should forgo the usual social scripts or timetables. Some people "feel it out," so to speak. [He echoes back:] Trying things and seeing what's good. [He nods abrupt little nods.] That gives you plenty of time and space to make sense of everything in here.
[He taps Robbie's temple, gently, and then he takes what's offered, running a soft hand through his hair to tuck it back behind his ear so he can see his face, looking Robbie in the eyes as much as he'll allow with a green gaze that's somehow sharp and gentle at the same time.]
All I ask is if we start giving each other new forms of affection, that you only accept it at levels you find comfortable and fulfilling.
I just want to be closer to you. The specifics, the timing of the specifics, that could remain very flexible.
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That’s nothing like a noogie. A hand running through his hair is about five times more intimate than he thought it would be, and Robbie is noticeably into it, more so than the kiss, pushing into the petting hand. The touch is over in a blink, and guilty blue eyes can only hold Querl’s gaze for a couple seconds. ]
I can’t promise you that. I can do I promise to tell you if it’s not comfortable and fulfilling or weird and exhilarating. But comfortable and fulfilling is too high a bar, so then I’m going to avoid you or lie because you playing with my hair or, you know, that’s not normal yet. It’s not going to be comfy.
[ Nervousness isn’t comfortable, nor are butterflies in one’s stomach. Robbie doesn’t repeat actions that make him uneasy intentionally. He very much would like Querl to take a second pass at his hair. Another kiss is less clear, but it’s the same curious interest. Wanting isn’t wrong, and uncomfortable isn’t always an automatic no. ]
I can promise to tell you if I hate it. That’s what you mean, right? You don’t have to worry. I won’t - I trust you, and you say you’re okay with doing things the Brainy-Speedball way, whatever it turns out that is, where nobody makes up rules about when you got to be Facebook offish or what happens on the third date or uses the word date. Cause this isn’t a date.
You can just pet me in your spare time because I’m putting playing with Robbie’s hair on the list of stuff we do. [ He gives up trying to stay physically close to demonstrate that Querl’s close to him and scoots back more. ] You’re closer than anybody. You were always close; I don’t know what closer looks like if it’s not already this. I let you in. I don’t do that anymore. New people get the freemium friendship, and nobody gets pay-to-play options, but you’re like me. So I just made up some special-case, next-level free pass for you. I had to let you in to help you, and then I’d already told you the worst and you were still there. So I had to keep helping you because you were still there and I wanted you to stay there, and now you kissed me and we’re ignoring it like that’ll make it normal... grife! I told Emma Frost to her face that I was a breast man, speaking poultricifically of course. Why is it so hard to say I’m here for it now?
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Robbie, if you want to help me, the feeling is mutual. I will forever be willing to help you if you need it. But I want to make it very clear: you don't have to help me for me to stay. I want to stay for a very simple reason: that I like you.
[He tilts his head slightly, bird-like, thoughtful.]
And you're correct, I do mean that I want to know if you hate any affection I give, but... I need to make sure I understand: if it isn't comfortable, do you want strange and exhilarating? Do you want those boundaries pushed slightly, to see if they become comfortable?
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[ He feels that they’re circling the same concepts now. They’re negotiating terminology, and that feels like terra firma after riding a sailboat into a hurricane. They’ll be fine; no one will be hurt tonight.
But there’s still time for surprises. Robbie throws his head back and laughs at the question, which is being given so much gravity for something so obvious. ]
Querl. I’ve been a superhero since I was fifteen. I can’t say that strange and exhilarating is all I ever wanted, but it’s been a definite leitmotif. You can push me and my boundaries. Maybe I’ll push back.
[ He starts to reach over to touch Brainy’s hair, to mess it up rather than smooth it neatly behind one ear. But he waits on the weird and exhilarating for permission. ]
Can I?
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[But any more words he could have just crystallize and crumble to dust because Robbie holds out his hand.]
[It is likely just a hair muss but people don't touch him that often, because he'd been so prickly when he was younger, squirming out of every hug. They sometimes sneak an arm around his shoulders, but the only person he's actually cuddly with is Merl.]
[This, of course, is different. He wants weird and exhilarating.]
[He doesn't say the word. Robbie wants to touch him and get closer, so he breathes it:]
Yes.
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And maybe more than a little flattered that he made the brusque know-it-all, who has a certain flair for sounding smarmy and beleaguered simultaneously - he made that person sound like that.
He does muss up Querl’s hair then, and the motion is overly self-aware and stiff, rucking the blond hair straight back off his forehead. Which looks ridiculous, like Querl fell asleep at his lab station, and Robbie has to bite back a laugh. A noogie would’ve been an improvement. ]
You look like you just crawled out of a nest.
[ Fixing someone else’s hair, as it happens, is nothing like messing it up. This time, his hand is gentle and purposeful, and it takes a few slow passes before Brainy’s finger-combed hair falls into two curving swoops back off his temples. Robbie continues to fuss over it, adjusting tiny strands to the other side of the part. ]
I bet that’s the last time you let me do that. You might want to... [ Robbie shakes his own head so his hair falls as it normally does. ] Jorgmund might put your hair in the company boyband if you don’t.
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It's not about how it looks.
[He doesn't really care. He just likes the touch.]
May I kiss you again? Just once.
[Querl has his own limits on affection and how much he can take at once.]
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But he knows that’s only fear. The appeal of saying yes is much more interesting, as is finding out if the second kiss is just as soft, if it’s still French kissing to a Coluan, and if Querl will say anything else that’s sweet and affirming that Robbie can tuck himself into like a security blanket memory when he’s feeling anxious. ]
You don’t have to ask things like that. You can just do it so I don’t have to psychoanalyze myself through a decision while you psychoanalyze every micro-expression and solve world hunger on five planets.
[ He shrugs both shoulders and tries to answer what should be a simple yes-or-no. ]
I liked it. The kiss, how you went for it with no hesitation. I think I forgot to tell you that, too busy with the whole meltdown from feeling that alive. I lowkey want you to make me freak out again. It wasn’t comfy, B+, would go again.
[ So... yes, and Robbie thinks guys stealing kisses from him is hot. That sentence is entire suitcases of baggage to unpack later when Brainy can’t see... ]
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[This time his expression is a little more daring, a little more of the usual look that comes over his face when he's about to be brilliant and slightly magnificent. This is a bit of an ongoing kiss heist now.]
[The second kiss is a little deeper, this time one hand cups Robbie's face but the other cradles his head, a hand threading through his hair.]
[He withdraws again, eyes still closed and sits back hard, as if he's taking a second to capture the moment in a snapshot, in a mental recording, to occasionally peruse and titter over in secret.]
If you like having kisses stolen from you, apparently I'll have to get used to engaging in petty theft.
[Against someone that doesn't entirely mind getting stolen from.]
[The joking expression passes and the next look is slightly unreadable. This is complicated for so many reasons, in so many layers.]
I don't wish I'd met you sooner, because of who I was then. But I - I wish my first kiss had been this. With you.
It makes me feel like there's something that's been gained instead of taken away.
[Pity kisses from girls who manipulated your feelings aren't exactly a good introduction to this kind of affection. While he'd felt a little positive about it at the time, in the ensuing years he'd started to feel...well.]
[Sad.]
[Because that was all he had. The only bit of romance, carried well past the end of his teens with nothing to replace it. Something hollow. There were many spaces in his life that were meant to be filled with affection - real affection - that had been left hollow.]
You're very good at that. Making me feel like something's been given instead of removed. In my life, I've faced the latter more often than the former.
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[ It’s not intentional flirting; it’s a retreat to normalcy. It’s the same response he’d give if he hadn’t just had Querl’s hands in his hair and lips on his.
But he had. Again. And again, he’d liked it, leaned into it. He had reached up, caught Querl’s sleeve. When Querl pulls away, Robbie doesn’t chase him. He just stares, eyes darting to every part of Querl that’s seemingly changed. Querl is suddenly far less predictable.
Robbie still gets hit with a wave of embarrassment from the kiss, and the look on Querl’s face makes his own feel hot. He is sunk, and he has no idea how easy banter turns flirty. ]
I wish I knew how I was good at it, so I could do it more. I don’t want to take anything from you. I just want to give - wow, that sounds like bad movie dialogue. Your words, not mine. I just don’t want to be a mistake. Make a mistake that you’re regretting to someone else next year.
[ It’s a hypothetical, because Robbie doesn’t even know what to make of today’s development. He can’t anticipate the demise of something that he hasn’t fully acknowledged. ]
So, if you’re going to keep robbing me, you need to be careful. [ Robbie caught the top of his tongue between his teeth and huffed sheepishly. ] Pun not intended, for once. I can’t believe I missed that. You ... you’re something.