3ofswords: (Default)
3ofswords ([personal profile] 3ofswords) wrote in [community profile] sixthiterationlogs2017-08-03 07:54 pm

[closed] hear the engine revving all the demons they survive it

WHO: Kira Akiyama
WHERE: Tim's house, general places in the canyon
WHEN: After Kira and Sonny pick peaches, August 14
OPEN TO: Tim Gutterson
WARNINGS: NSFW content is always possible, nothing immediately planned though.


It's been a couple of days since he put himself in Tim's path, or let himself be at the house to answer any calls.  The orientation house provides a distraction, a place most people wouldn't know him to be, but much as he's avoided the village at large before, he's never avoided Tim.  They'd spent entire days together after the quake, caginess washed away in light of Kira's cold, and after that week--well, he wasn't about to get kicked out of bed to walk home in the dark.

But now his power is back in pieces.  But now Margaery had picked up one of them, and given him a vision to worry about.  

The house felt easier to deal with.  It was down to just him, putting it together, and if something was going to happen to him, he'd need to get it as far along as possible for the next person.  Infrastructure is important, beds for new people, maps, a dedicated face and voice to deliver the most current information available.  Far too important to set aside for visiting some guy he's been having a good time with, so long as everything stays neatly in its lines.

He's as guilty of blurring them as anyone, but even that would be fine, no way of knowing how Tim feels about it unless he says something, and they'd all get home to hell frozen over before that happened.  But walking with Sonny had reminded him--connections are important.  Routines, projects, but also the little things.  A person to share a bed, a face you like the day better for having seen.  If Sonny is starting to slip in a place like this, there's no telling how much better Tim might fare.

As if to press the point about everyone's sanity, the box he'd taken to fill with rumored peaches had shown up that morning, another bottle of Grey Goose and a box of tea.  Knocking on Tim's door in the waning afternoon, he has the cardboard box looped under one arm, the bottle peeking over the edge, the space around it piled with his half of the haul.

It's a beat before Kira stops waiting for Tim to break the days of silence he himself created, remembers who he is, and shoves the door open without waiting for an answer.  "Come on," he calls to the house at large, "I brought you something."
comfortablyerect: (one step ahead of you)

[personal profile] comfortablyerect 2017-08-11 01:58 am (UTC)(link)
Tim's silent, loitering in the doorway of the kitchen with some amount of uncertainty. He's not chasing a fugitive through the back roads of Kentucky, and he's not testing the wind on some cliff side in Afghanistan. That is to say, this is not easy to navigate. He should probably be angry that Kira's avoided it for a few days, but instead he feels unsure. Where do they stand? Why should they stand anywhere, when they've just been fuck buddies up until this point?

That's not true. That hasn't been true for a little while, at least. Kira has slept in his bed through the night, they've laid together with no promise of sexual favors in the night or the morning after. Kira made sure Tim didn't kill himself with some infection, and Tim looked after Kira when the rain gave him a cold.

Things have changed, shifted beneath his feet. He's still standing now, but eventually it's going to knock him flat on his ass. He should take this as an opportunity to back out, start giving excuses.

Instead, he crosses the room. He stands beside Kira and finds himself not angry that the other was absent for awhile, but relieved that he's back now. From now on, he'll just make a point to not expect too much. That way, there's no way for him to end up disappointed if it happens again. Maybe things have changed, but Tim can still keep things at arms length with all the emotional bullshit.

"Glad you came bearin' gifts." He picks a peach from the box, biting into it in a messy, primal way. Juice leaks into his palm and drips down his chin, but he doesn't care.
comfortablyerect: (i'm bleeding)

[personal profile] comfortablyerect 2017-08-16 07:58 pm (UTC)(link)
Being busy sounds like some bullshit excuse, but Tim doesn't even breech it. He won't breech it. It's not like they're dating or anything, like either of them owe each other their time. They're friends, but they're living in a village that's pushing them to survive. Sometimes, they won't have time for each other. Sometimes, they might not see each other for a few days.

Tim's okay with that. Or, at the very least, he'll make himself okay with that. He doesn't know how he's supposed to feel about Kira's absence, but what he does know is that he's pleased Kira's returned at all.

Maybe one day he'll get tired of Tim's bullshit, but apparently, today isn't that day.

Veronica was gone. Someone Tim knew by face and name, even if he never spoke to her. A lot of people have up and disappeared lately. Who knows if they're being sucked back home, or if they're being swallowed by the woods, or even something much worse. It's shitty to dwell on, so Tim doesn't. He's a soldier — losing people isn't anything new to him.

"It's fine." He leans in, catching Kira's lips in a kiss, his own mouth still messy from the peach he'd bitten into. They won't talk about the emotional things, because they never do, and that's perfectly fine with Tim. But this is something they're good at.
comfortablyerect: (i'm not afraid)

[personal profile] comfortablyerect 2017-08-21 09:45 pm (UTC)(link)
Truthfully, Tim wouldn't mind standing here and kissing Kira indefinitely. Maybe it's kind of childish, a teenager-esque thing to want to back a pretty boy against the kitchen table and kiss his face off, but Tim would be content with that. And for now, he is, because Kira's kissing him back and Tim can still taste peaches and something else that's unique to Kira's mouth.

They kiss a second time after the break apart, Tim drawing in half a breath before their lips meet again. He even leans in to steal a third, but Kira's slipping past him, walking towards the back door. Tim blinks, staring at the spot that Kira once occupied, and he smiles.

It's a little thing, but it's genuine. His smiles, few and far between as they are, are always real, and frequently hidden. Like this one -- it's gone by the time he turns around to follow Kira, snagging a peach from the box on his way past it.

"Where're we headin'?" he asks, clearly content to be along for whatever ride Kira's operating.
comfortablyerect: (ain't gonna see)

[personal profile] comfortablyerect 2017-08-27 02:58 am (UTC)(link)
It's a nice day to be outside. Not that it matters, since there's hardly ever things to do inside. All of Tim's days are spent outside, weather be damned. But the sun is high in the sky, the temperature mild enough, and the slightest breeze blows through to ruffle their hair. It's probably better that they take a walk and enjoy it rather than spend it upstairs tangling in the sheets.

Maybe he can talk Kira into fucking in the grass, anyway.

"Cold," he answers, falling into step on Kira's left. The hot spring is nice, but it's more preferable when there's a chill in the air. Right now, he prefers the idea of wading into crisp, cool water. He reaches for the bottle of vodka, slipping it from Kira's fingers without asking and tipping it back for a drink. It's not what he prefers, of course, but the alcohol burns his throat in a familiar, comforting way.
comfortablyerect: (to float a battleship around)

[personal profile] comfortablyerect 2017-08-29 09:13 pm (UTC)(link)
Tim would much rather be fucking Kira on his kitchen table right now, but that's probably the case at any given time. This isn't bad either, truthfully. This is very reminiscent of his teenage years, when he and his friends spent long summer days walking the fields of their little Kentucky town, sharing whatever liquor they could get away with stealing from their daddies. It was never vodka, but some amber-colored whiskey, burning their throats on the way down.

This is better, of course, because he's walking with a guy he gets to nail regularly, and he doesn't have to worry about going home to find out his father realized he stole the last of the bourbon. It's the little differences.

He sighs, taking a bite of the peach a little neater than he had earlier. He catches the juice with his tongue, reaching for the bottle to wash it down.

"Bourbon," he answers, handing the bottle back before Kira can grab it himself. "Kentucky makes the best."