[Dejah's room]

[2goodarms]

Time passes. Asleep, half-dazed by the Voice of Barsoom, Curtis has even less sense of how long he stays in Dejah's bed.

(In his dreams, everything's warm and bright, even the smallest spaces of the train; nothing aches, and voices ring all around him.)

When he finally wakes up, utter disorientation smacks into him headlong -- where am I? what the fuck am I sleeping on? -- before he feels the warm body next to him and, like a compass swinging north, reorients around the soft sound of Dejah's breath. Sleep took care of the last side effects: he feels completely steady, awake, his calm returning as he looks over at Dejah.

Comments

[dejah_thoris]

She's deep asleep, snoring softly, still resting her head on his shoulder.

[2goodarms]

...oh, Christ, that's adorable.

(And beautiful. But mostly adorable.)

Suppressing laughter as she lets out another tiny snore, Curtis touches his lips to her forehead, very lightly, and turns his gaze to the mural above her bed. The stars have definitely changed position. By a lot, he thinks. Maybe.

The bed feels like it's going to swallow him; it's not exactly comfortable when you've spent half your life in hammocks and on rock-hard bunks. He's not here for the accommodations, though. He's content to lounge around until Dejah's awake.

[dejah_thoris]

Dejah hums into the kiss, her hand slipping around his waist. She nestles closer to him, dropping tiny kisses on his shoulder and grumbling quietly in lieu of actually using her words yet. He's warm and she's comfortable and she really, really doesn't want to wake up.

[2goodarms]

Curtis' shoulder starts to shake with his stifled laughter. He wraps his arm more securely around her and leans to whisper in her ear, just above a breath, "Morning."

(He thinks. Maybe it's evening. Who knows.)

[dejah_thoris]

Oh. Her fingers grip the thin fabric of his undershirt as a shiver runs down her body. Even the sensation of his laughter washing over her feels amazing.

"What time is it?" Maybe she can distract herself from heat coiling under her skin with his answer. She should put a little space between them.

She should, but she doesn't.

[2goodarms]

His breath catches; he rolls onto his side, one foot hooked around hers, and rests his forehead against the crown of her head. Now that Curtis' whole brain isn't trying to rearrange itself, it's a hell of a lot harder to ignore the fact that they're sharing a bed -- and now that he can actually feel Dejah's desire on top of his own, well.

"No idea," he admits. "I think it's been a while. The stars moved."

[dejah_thoris]

It's more than simple lust, and he can sense that in even the simplest sentence from her. She's fascinated with him, completely and utterly smitten. She finds everything about him irresistible, from his voice to his eyelashes to the roughness of his hands to that little scar under his eye. He pulls her closer and she melts against him, burrowing her nose into the hollow of his throat.

"How are you feeling? How's your head?"

[2goodarms]

The strength of those feelings -- especially directed at him, from someone like Dejah -- feels so foreign that he can barely grasp it. She can sense his bewilderment, like a rapidly-moving current just beneath the calm contentment. He knows they're true, and he's happy they're true. He just can't figure out why they're true.

(Something darker, like the shadow of a shark passing by even further below: once I tell her --

No.)

"Better," he murmurs. "I'm fine. How'd you sleep?"

[dejah_thoris]

She pulls back and catches his face between her hands, her brow furrowed. She studies his face with that intense gaze he should know by now. Her concern, her worry is like a hot wind. Her words fail her for a moment, as she tries to navigate the storm of her own insecurities. (Does he not feel the same about her? Is she forcing herself on him? And that darkness he conceals? Is he using her to get what he wants? Has she made a fool of herself again?)

She licks her lips and takes a moment to breathe, her hand stroking over his beard. "I slept better than I have in years."

It doesn't matter now. She knows he can see everything written on her face.

[2goodarms]

Shit.

Curtis winds his fingers in her hair, stretches to kiss her brow as if he could smooth the worry lines away. The shadow in his thought vanishes; the confusion dims, overpowered by a need to reassure her.

He cares about her. This is exactly where he wants to be right now. But, as always, he lags a step or two behind Dejah: the pace of his emotions can't match hers quite yet, like muscles he's trying to build after years of starvation.

"Good."

[dejah_thoris]

She dips her head down, hiding her face against his throat again, just breathing. She leans into the strength and solidity of him. She knows. She knows. Her arms snake around him and she holds on, tight.

She's silent for a long breath. This is exactly where he wants to be. And he cares, she knows he cares. She knows that. Doubt and fear have no place here. After a moment, she takes a deep breath and lets it out.

"Do you want to try on your arm?"

[2goodarms]

Curtis looks down at her, eyes widening, as his hand stills against her hair.

"It's done?"

[dejah_thoris]

She nods, looking up at him. She'd double, triple checked everything. It wasn't going to get any more ready than it already was. A little smile ghosts over her lips.

"Has been." That silver thread of hope shines so brightly in her quiet words.

[2goodarms]

Hope -- even secondhand hope -- feels just as foreign as love or affection, but it's even more beautiful. Curtis' awe unfolds anew like a plant in the greenhouse car, stretching toward the silver thread he hears.

"Yeah," he whispers. "Sure, let's try it."

[dejah_thoris]

She gives him a soft smile, the awe in his voice filling her like light in sails, carrying her higher. She levers herself up to one arm, dipping down to steal a soft kiss from his lips.

And then she's moving away. She slips to the floor and pads on bare feet across to her work bench. His arm is there on its stand, covered with a scrap of cloth to keep the dust off. She picks it up and wraps it in the cloth, bearing it back to the bed in her arms, like it's a small child.

"Take your shirt off," she whispers.

[2goodarms]

A flicker of amusement crosses his face, echoed in his voice as he says, "Okay."

The bundle looks so much like Edgar's sword before he unwrapped it. A gift of metal, she said. That's enough to school him back to solemnity -- more or less -- as he strips off his undershirt and sets it aside.

This is a big fucking deal. For a whole host of reasons, not just the metal part.

[dejah_thoris]

This feels like something momentous, though she cannot quite articulate why. It feels like she's offering him a piece of herself. Her past. Her present. And to some extent, her future.

She settles beside him on the bed, with the bundle resting across her knees, her hands holding it gingerly.

"Do you have the pendant with you?"

[2goodarms]

"Oh -- " His hand rises to his bare chest before he catches himself, sheepishly. "Yeah, it's in my coat. Did you put my coat somewhere...?"

He can grab it so she doesn't have to get up again; he's already scanning the room.

[dejah_thoris]

"It's at the foot of the bed, I believe." There's a lump of clothing where she helped him undress.

Her voice is still hushed, shimmering with quiet anticipation.

[2goodarms]

Curtis nods, and scrambles over to the small pile of clothes. After a few seconds of rummaging, he unearths the amulet from one an inner pocket of his jacket (one of many pockets haphazardly added over the years) and returns to Dejah's side.

"Will I have to wear it all the time while I'm wearing the arm?" he asks.

[dejah_thoris]

She watches with bright eyes, trying not to giggle.

"No, just for the transition. Once you put it on, you won't need it. Unless we need to recalibrate something."

[2goodarms]

He quirks an eyebrow, and a smile, as he loops the amulet over his neck: what?

"That'll make it easier."

[dejah_thoris]

She waits until he's settled, watching him. A strange serenity settles over her.

"Now, you remember I told you in the beginning, the first connection is going to hurt."

[2goodarms]

Curtis nods. "I remember, yeah."

Can't be worse than getting his arm ripped off in the first place, though. Right?

[dejah_thoris]

She swallows, nods. He gets the distinct impression that she doesn't want to cause him pain, ever, but it's necessary. She uncovers the arm and orients it to his body.

"There's going to be tendrils of blue light. The Ninth Ray isolates are going to find your nerves and meld with them. Then muscles and tendons. It will feel strange as it attaches to the joint. But it should only last thirty seconds or so."

She lifts the arm, and then lets it rest again. "Maybe you should lie down?"