Fucked-Up Redemption


satoru_icon.gif logan_icon.gif

Scene Title Fucked-Up Redemption
Synopsis Toru wants you all to know that he is a terrible person.
Date August 13, 2009

Dorchester Towers — Logan's Apartment

Zebra print goddamn everywhere.

Some time after business has concluded, Toru lies awake in bed next to Logan, having been so for a while now, though he's not gone to any lengths to make it clear that he's not sleeping. Not that he's sure if Logan is sleeping either, for that matter; hard to tell without opening his eyes, and that would break his own illusion.


After having been lying there for a while, though, he does eventually grunt a bit, rolling over to drape an arm over Logan's chest a bit clumsily. "Logan." He opens his eyes, taking a moment to get used to seeing in the dark, and gives a gentle shake. If this doesn't get a response, he'll shake more roughly until the desired effect is obtained, and thus whisper, "Are you awake?"

It's dark, and so sensations are mostly reduced to touch, to sound. Toru will know he's succeeded before Logan even does at the sound of erstwhile pimp's breathing going deep quite suddenly, chest swelling up beneath that casually draped arm, air hissed out in a sigh as he rouses. His head is spinning with wine, Eastern and Western both, and Logan's arm flops with all the grace if a dead fish as he lifts it, lowers the back of his hand against his brow. Grit in his eyes and sandpaper in his mouth— no, no.

Just prematurely hung over. And being woken up. When he's shaken once more upon his lack of response, the generous bed creaking a little, a rough, "'ey, take it easy," is whispered into the darkness. A warm hand clasps over Toru's wrist. A long pause, then, slightly more attentive; "What? Yeah. What is it."

Moving in closer now that Logan is awake, Toru nestles his face against the man's shoulder, nuzzling there for a moment before any further verbal response is given. "We never really get to talk in public, y'know?" A hand rubs up along Logan's arm, stopping at that same shoulder. "I just thought maybe we could have a real conversation. Without people listenin' in and all, y'know?" Granted, the way he's rubbing on his bedmate, it isn't like talking seems to be what's on his mind.

He does keep his hands above the belt, though, to be fair. "So I figured maybe we could talk… since I dunno if I'm gonna stay in the morning, or if you are, or whatever." He smiles faintly, pauses, then lowers his head and admits, "I couldn't sleep."

"Bet you could if you tried." The hand against his forehead shifts so as to rub the pads of his thumb and index finger into his closed eyes, enough so that Logan can see lights where there aren't any. As coaxing as Toru's touches could be, they most just wake him up— likely the desired effect— rather than inspire anything much more than that, at least at the moment. Finally, Logan opens his eyes, eyelashes batting up at the ceiling.

He yawns, once, enough to make his jaw click, before settling deeper into bed, hand relaxing on Toru's arm. "You could've fooled me, you know. Don't recall us being particularly candid back at the sushi joint."

That first comment elicits a bit of a cringe from the younger man, who takes the opportunity to draw back away from Logan just a bit — his hands pull back, contact maintained only through fingertips. After the latter remark, he just closes his eyes again, exhaling a sigh into Logan's shoulder, and turns his head to burrow face into the sheets and pillow a bit. "'m sorry," he murmurs, shaking his head.

"I didn't mean to wake you up. I just— " Nnh. "I'll try to get some sleep." And thus begins the familiar cycle; after a hesitant moment, he turns away from Logan, rolling over to lie on his other side, facing in the opposite direction.

There's a long moment of silence, as if perhaps Logan were willing to take him up on that, but in reality and unseen by Toru, the Englishman simply stares up at the ceiling for a little longer, tongue running over a slightly dry bottom lip, before he let's out a sigh. A heaving, breathy exclamation of pure exasperation, and the bed tilts and creaks as he moves. "Well I'm awake now."

An arm drapes high over Toru's waist, and a chin rests sharp against his arm near the shoulder, about as comfortable as when a cat tries to make its bed in your lap - comfortable for the cat, anyway. "Talk."

Shifting just a bit, Toru grumbles, "Bet you could sleep if you tried." Just barely loud enough to be heard. But rather than pursue that, he finally shakes his head and proceeds. "Anyway, you're the one who started getting all.. personal, over there. I wouldn't have brought any of that up." He shrugs, though the action results in a slight moment of discomfort, chin poking into arm uncomfortably. Agh, pinned.

In any case. "I was kind of thinking about what you said and how we were talking about love and shit, and our arrangement, and.." He takes in a breath, sighs, shakes his head. "… I really do kind of miss having you around. I'm not really sure why, but I think I kinda know.. but I dunno, the whole thing is just kinda messed up. Being with you just kind of feels right." Potential psychological (and completely unconscious) addiction to abilities aside, of course.

Logan settles as Toru gets around to talking, remaining close and keeping that arm draped in place, head rested on the pillow and close enough for the younger man's hair to tickle the tip of his nose. "Is that so?" he murmurs, voice low. Everyone misses me eventually, he had said, and the rule holds true. His arm moves, but not to break contact, his fingertips coming to brush along Toru's spine, between his shoulder blades.

"I didn't realise I had hit such a nerve." That tracking touch zigzags over the ridges of Toru's spine, the barest hint of fingernail. "We have fights nearly every second sentence. Tell me what feels right about it. What feels right about me."

The touch elicits a small shiver from Toru, fingers splaying out briefly as he makes a small sound of content. He'd purr, were he a cat, but that's Logan's department. And the underlying intent to that question — to tell Logan more about how wonderful he is — is clear to Toru, regardless of whether it was intended, but, as is his general wont, he disregards that. After all, he brought up the topic, and if the potential for flattery gets Logan to listen to him talk… whatever works.

"You get on my case a lot about stupid shit," he starts, slowly, though clearly not trying to mince words at all. "And you know it just makes me mad, 'cause.. 'cause I mean, I get mad easy." A shrug, there. He continues facing away from Logan as he speaks, arms folded and resting atop one another in front of himself. "I'm… not really a nice guy, and I've done shit that most people would think is pretty crappy probably, and I guess… I kinda think maybe it's like karma. I push people around and someone has to push me around in turn, y'know?"

It's not the answer he was expecting. This isn't communicated in anyway other than the way Logan's hand goes still. Perhaps he was expecting wonderful things to be said about him. Perhaps he was expecting the usual, predictable answers. But he's listening, that much is clear, and his hand retracts from the featherlight strokes down Toru's back, sliding his hand beneath his own cheek as he lies still and separate from Toru.

And for now, says nothing. Processing, waiting, either way it's silence. Heavy eyelids rest over his eyes but he's far from asleep.

And as Logan pulls away, Toru blushes a deep shade, not terribly visible in this light. He bites his lip, tensing up for a moment, then gulps and pushes himself into a roll-over, facing Logan. Hands move to grasp the older man's, almost too tightly once they find them. "I— I was just kidding, I didn't mean all that." His tone, of course, is a bit too desperate to make that seem terribly believable.

"Really it's just— I mean, maybe it's because you're the only guy I've been with— " As he continues speaking, he starts to talk a bit more quickly, to avoid any awkward pauses. "— but um, I just always feel really— good? I always feel good when I'm around you, even when we're just talking, I mean, and I don't know, maybe it does mean something.. I'm really not trying to sound all over emotional about it, it just— I don't know, just— my brother died when I was little and you'd be about his age and I don't want to be alone anymore." Aaand this is the part where he gets tossed out a window.

Logan's hands only twitch, subtly, in protest when Toru's own seek his out - too light and gentle a movement to combat the desperate clutch of the younger man's fingers. For a moment, in the darkness and strange light that manages to work its way into the room, Logan looks about ready to pull away and leave Toru bereft on the bed. Instead, he remains still, listening a little longer and bringing his gaze up to watch Toru's, expression serious.

He doesn't get tossed out the window. There's a twitch of an eyebrow raise at that last sentiment, but otherwise, Logan only hesitates before pushing his fingers firmer between Toru's fingers, a harsh tangle. "I make you feel bad, and then you feel good," he notes.

Toru's heart starts to pound, perhaps unwillingly. A deep kind of primal tension unloosens from a knot, adrenaline bleeds warm. There's a point at which the difference between panic and anger keels over and submits to the latter, and chemical manipulation presses on. Logan keeps his eyelids lowered, although the minimal light within the room is unusually attracted to what slices of iris can be detected.

"It's.. something like that." Toru bites his lip, eyes downcast, and takes in a deep breath. Shaking a bit in small movements as his heart rate increases, he grips Logan's hands more tightly, all the more uncomfortable with fingers entwined. "I guess it's just— I sort of deserve it, and it's some— fucked up redemption shit. I don't know!" And with that he abruptly pulls his hands away from Logan's, forcefully if he has to, and shoves himself away from the other man.

At which point he's at a loss for how to express his sudden anger, and looks around twitchily, seeking out something. And rather suddenly he dives at Logan, shoving him onto his back, gripping his shoulders, and— his own hands go bony with similar abruptness, keeping him from losing his grip. "Who're you to judge me, anyway?!"

He'll deny it, later, the startled yelp that comes from being leapt at by Toru, although perhaps Logan should have expected it, should have deserved to expect it. Logan's own hands go up, claw-like in defense although gripping nothing at first as he lets out a hiss of pain from where Toru's bone grip digs into skin. "'m not— not judging you," he breathes out, and his eyes flash only grey-pale, none of the brightness of before, the hooks of his ability retracted. Fear was only briefly, banished in the next moment as he looks up at Toru, keen interest.

"No one's— ever gotten off on me bein' mean to 'em, that's all," he drawls at a voice that's only just above a whisper. "Or they've never admitted it." There's a breath of laughter, but it fades, Logan's hands moving to smooth up Toru's chest despite the discomfort of the grip on his shoulders.

It does take a moment for Toru to calm, though Logan's ability being retracted along with Logan not saying anything more to goad him does help in bringing down the adrenaline level. Nevertheless, it is a moment or two still before he's soothed enough to reverse the effect of his own ability, and he lets his hands slide to the bed on either side of Logan's shoulders, then lowers himself down as well. A sigh, there, and he nestles his head in next to Logan's, face tilted just enough to allow for warm breathing against the Brit's cheek.

"You got all quiet. And the way you said…" He shakes his head, sighs again, shifts his position a bit. His turn to be the cat; that burst of energy was a bit tiring in itself. "…you think I'm a freak. Nobody else's ever said it, 'cause everyone else is normal and there's something wrong with me."

Oof. Logan closes his eyes as Toru settles on top of him, arms coming to circle lazily around the younger man's torso. "Well— 's like you said," he murmurs, in his sleep rough voice that grazes somewhere above whisper-level. "Who'm I to judge?" His own head turns, enough to allow almost a nuzzle, not quite a kiss, too chaste. His breathing curls in a hint of laughter, albeit restrained, tentative. "If you— need some sort of psychological fucked up redemption thing to want to be here— "

The sentence breaks away, Logan giving up on it before it can begin. Never mind judging - who's he to even pretend to understand these things? There are two states of being - weak and strong. Strong keeps you out, weak lets you in. Everyone's the same. Logan prefers to keep it this way.

"I don't think you're a freak," he settles on. Tries. "You get angry, sexually aroused, happy— 's all the same. Who cares why?"

"I care if it means it's gonna chase you away," Toru murmurs, closing his eyes, fatigue finally starting to settle in. "Not many people like my mind; I don't want to get rid of the ones who do." This may sound like a familiar sort of scenario to certain other people in the room. "I guess I kinda figured I should tell you. I.. it's been bugging me, not sayin' anything about it. I'unno why."

Shrugging gently, he moves, then, to slide partway off Logan, giving the man room to breathe, and before pulling his head away, leaves a kiss behind on his cheek. "I guess I wanna.. I don't wanna make it look like I'm hidin' stuff to keep you from leaving." He is, of course, still under the impression that Logan himself isn't trying to keep him around. Lack of self-worth, and all that.

Logan goes with, to a less clingy degree, smoothly rolling onto his side and folded an arm underneath his head. "No… no, I'm glad you told me," he says, because the words sound correct, assuring, and perhaps go hand in hand with the soothing mood lift that goes with it, a balm over Toru's frazzled nerves. It's a game, designed to amuse only Logan, but at least this part is pleasant enough for the both of them, as serotonin levels spike higher. "Especially if it makes you feel better."

Skin slides against the silky fabric of the luxurious bed as he leans in, a kiss against Toru's jaw, words murmured there, "A weight off your shoulders." Another kiss, and another to seek out the other man's mouth, chemical manipulation only heightening upon every instance of contact.

And because the words sound correct, Toru accepts them eagerly, nodding quietly as Logan states them. He pushes himself up onto his own side, facing Logan and moving a hand to rest on the man's waist, the other folded under his head in an unintentionally mirrored pose. "I just— I wanted you to know," he repeats, somewhat weakly. But with kisses and serotonin-boosts come smiles, happy acceptance of kisses, and a few of his own given in return.

"I used to hit girls when I couldn't get it up with them," he admits, just as abruptly as most of his previous admissions had been. But as long as we're being honest here. "That's— that's kinda why I'm all defensive and— and anyway, like I said, I do shitty shit." Head shaken briefly, he shifts forward, pulling Logan in closer for another kiss or two. "And I'm telling you this and we're kissing and something seems like it should be wrong about that but I don't really care, if you don't."

Logan manages not to laugh. It's a terrible thing. And ridiculous. And awful. "I don't. I don't care." These words, with velvet English r's and rounded o's, are murmured into the curve of Toru's throat and jaw, adamently, as if trying to convince both of them. "It's strange— I did. For a little while, when I left, I cared for a while. Left 'cause I knew— knew you'd hate it. But I don't." Care.

Maybe. But whatever uncertainties are there, about whether or not John Logan cares about breaking things, don't manifest in his voice, and even if they did, could they be heard over the serene happiness of mood lifting chemicals?

"I miss talking about breaking things," Toru murmurs, eyes closed, kissing Logan's forehead lightly, that good mood culminating mainly in a pleasant buzz moreso than anything else for the moment. A hand is raised, brushing through the blonde's hair, and he adds, thoughtfully, "You left 'cause you thought I wouldn't like you?" Head tilts a moment, curiously. "You.. I guess I did kind of say that. That I like you better like that."

He grins faintly, lowering his head enough to look Logan in the eye, at however oddly close a view it may be. "We're criminals, it wouldn't do to have you caring about that, right?" The grin turns into a brief smirk, and he lets out a groan of fatigue, shifting a bit to find lost comfort. "I'd only hate it because it'd mean you wouldn't like me. I'm happy as long as I don't get left alone."

In the half-light, Logan only lowers his eyes in a slow blink of affirmation, mouth curled in a small smirk. Yes. Yes, something like that. Never mind the selfish politics of codependency and leeching and emotional vampirism and ego and— well. No one ever said this was healthy. Breaking eye contact, Logan settles deeper into bed, lazy and warm and almost forgetting about his own hangover as he allows the serotonin buzz to filter out of Toru's system in its own time, unhooking his claws one by one even as he wraps around him.

"You don't have to be alone," Logan states, sleepily, eyes coming to shut. "You've got me, 'aven't you."

On the contrary, essentially anyone polled would describe the relationship as anything but healthy. Not that either party involved is in it for their health. But with that assurance, Toru lets his arm slide down Logan's side, resting on his waist again, and moves the other hand up to dig around for the nearest pillow, tugging it down a bit further and under his head. "Well, that's pretty much all I'm worried about, innit?" he murmurs, no small hint of amusement in his voice.

He wriggles a bit, pulling Logan in closer to him, but now it's really just to use his boss as somewhat of a plush toy to sleep with than to proceed with intimate gestures. The Brit is held, possessively, the arm that had been on his waist raised to wrap around his torso. Nestling his head into the other man's chest he adds, as a quiet and sleepy afterthought, "Zeeee."

[OOC] Logan says, "excuse me—!!!"
[OOC] Toru says, "!?"
[OOC] Logan says, "okay fine zebra print everywhere"
[OOC] Toru says, "hahaha"
[OOC] Toru says, "god"
[OOC] Toru fixes!!
[OOC] Logan says, "NO"
[OOC] Toru says, "DOIN IT"
[OOC] Logan >:(
[OOC] Toru says, "okay okay"
[OOC] Toru was just going to make it
[OOC] Toru Please desc your apartment appropriately.
[OOC] Logan says, "hate you"
[OOC] Toru says, "lololol"

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