[He took his shoes off when he came in even if I forgot to write it so he strips off his overcoat next, rolling up the sleeve of his arm that will be on the outside of the couch for easy access for Eames. He isn't sure where the ideal entry point is so he just makes sure the loose sleeve is secured above his elbow, given that thanks to the scar tissue it's easiest to find a vein on his wrist or the inside of his elbow where the tattoos have left a halo of clean skin around themselves.
He still doesn't like showing skin, but he's getting used to it around Eames. Easy enough to find a comfy position on the couch. He's had a fickle relationship with sleep - like food - but getting comfortable was never the problem.]
[ Eames waits for him to settle down before sitting on the sofa table and draws a tube from the PASIV. He spends a moment just looking for the vein, turning Gerard's wrist around until he decides on the one on the inside instead of the back of his hand. Inserting it is a quick and efficient affair, it doesn't take more than a few seconds before he's taping the needle down and lets his fingers trail down to Gerard's palm and from there to his fingers, squeezing them for a moment gently. ]
You will know. Don't worry about it. I'll show you the ropes when we get there.
[ He leaves Gerard on his perch on the couch and finds a comfortable position in his chair. The needle goes into his vein without a fuss, he could do this without looking even. ]
See you on the other side, [ he says mildly as he reaches over to push the button. ]
---
They're in London. It's summer and sun is high on the sky. They're standing in line for for the London Eye and Eames hands their tickets at the front to the smiling gate keeper and opens the door to the capsule for him. They're going to be alone, what a treat...
"Did you say you've never been up there?" Eames asks mildly as he guides Gerard in. "I suppose this could be a dream come true. Or maybe just a dream that feels so real you'd think it's actually... real."
Saying Gerard lived in London his whole life was one of those "true but misleading" statements. It was the only place that his passport ever had as a residence, that was true. But his passport showed that he spent considerably less time there than, well, everywhere else for most of his life. How did one of the nurses put it, that he overheard? 'Very well traveled'. That said, in spite of always living there, he truly had never been to the Eye before.
In general, Gerard didn't have much time for things like ferris wheels.
"They're also called Observation Wheels," Gerard says mildly, going in when Eames directs him to, looking around the fully enclosed capsule. All alone in theirs, it'd be the perfect time to get a little frisky, under other circumstances.
"This is a dream," He says to Eames while he looks out the window, matter-of-fact, no disorientation or confusion to the statement.
"Yes," Eames replies warmly as he takes a seat and crosses his legs as he brings up a cigarette and lights it. He's conscious how much he smokes in real world but in dreams he can do it as much as he wants without any health issues.
"This is a dream. Your dream in fact. I'm the architect of it currently but you populate it with your subconscious. There are certain rules about how dreams work, love. But here you can do almost anything you like."
Almost. If you can brunt the consequences.
The pod climbs high above London with speed that doesn't correlate to how fast it feels. Soon there's a magnificent view opening below them.
"The key is to loosen up your imagination and know you can do something."
Gerard is very familiar with dreams. Nightmares, really. But there's certain things that are tells for him, that have always been tells to let him know. He takes out a cigarette to light his own - it wasn't cigarettes that killed him, after all.
"Mmm? Like what?" he asks, trying to distract himself from the watched feeling that's amplified a hundred fold since they got here. He can't see the Watcher in the sky yet but he knows it's there, or it wants to be and something about Eames being here is holding it back for now.
He just hopes it won't freak Eames out too badly when it opens.
On his hands, all the eye tattoos are still tattoos, thin delicate lines, small enough to be masterwork with how fine and detailed they are.
It's not the strangest thing Eames has seen, those tattoos. But it is rather fascinating, so he stares at them, playing a little game with himself while trying to figure out which one of them will blink next.
"Rules?" Eames asks. "Well, those are for people who start to mess with the dream itself. As long as you're just a spectator, you're fine like this, spectating."
He takes a long drag from his cigarette and slowly detaches the pod from the machine, making it float over the city.
"But when you start to mess with the reality of the dream, when things in the dream start to bother the dreamer, his subconscious, his innate idea of reality and how it works, things start to get hairy."
It's - well, magical. Seeing the city from above like this. He brings a hand out to press against the window as he looks down, and in the process his sleeve slips down a bit to show no scar tissue now. Gerard doesn't seem to have noticed it.
He's distracted, first by the delight of it, then by the pull in his gut, the sensation of being watched and before he even looks up instead of down, he knows what he'll see.
"Don't be afraid," he whispers to Eames. Above them, the eye opens, taking up the whole of the sky.
Okay, this has never happened before. Not with someone who isn't trained to shift the dream and design it to their will. The fact that Eames noticed no scarring is forgotten the moment that giant eye opens above them.
"What is that?" he asks tensely, his jaw tight and expression unreadable. Yes, he's a little scared.
"Is that common in your world? Eyes opening on the sky?"
Gerard isn't doing it. At least, he doesn't think he is, any more than bait in the water causes a shark attack.
The eye watches back, unblinking.
"The Ceaseless Watcher," Gerard says, because its here because if him, so he will have its focus anyway. His hand is still pressed against the window, still looking up as the colorless eye looks back down. Aside from the tension in his body, he gives no other sign of being afraid, himself.
"I've been marked by it since as long as I can remember. I get some protection from it-" the tattoos keeping back some of the burns "- but it isn't out of a sense of benevolence. It's because they're territorial. Common in the world? No. Common in my dreams? Almost every night."
"... you might need to be," Gerard says apologetically, finally turning away from the window to look up to Eames. "All it does is... watch. It's here for me, but it might be aware of you now."
Like Gerard says, it's not interested in hurting you- just giving you enough rope for you to hang yourself, and sitting back and watching the whole thing.
"But it... doesn't get involved, right?" Eames still stares at the eye, he briefly glances down at Gerard, his arm sliding over that narrow shoulder almost protectively.
"I suppose..." he starts, pausing for a moment before he finally pulls his gaze away and properly looks down at Gerard, going for a cheeky smile which doesn't feel all genuine but it's a good attempt. "We'll just ignore it for now."
Gerard grabs at Eames' jacket, tugging at him lightly, indicating wordlessly he wants Eames next to him. It puts himself between Eames and the main window, too.
"Can you tint the upper parts of the windows? Like how you unhooked the capsle." Gerard asked. It won't make the eye go away, it won't hide them, but it will at least make it easier to not see it.
Eames lets him tug him as he likes, he's not opposed to it at all. He peers at the thing up in the sky again before focusing on Gerard.
"How about we do something else, hmm?" he says and the next time he looks down, the floor has turned into glass. There's a brief but magnificent view of London down below them before the pod lands on a rooftop and Eames takes Gerard's hand to lead him out and onto the rooftop. Not for long though, he aims for the door that hypothetically leads to the building below.
"This way, love," he says and refuses to glance up at the sky and that massive, bloody creepy eye just hanging there.
What opens up behind the door is not the building, though, but it leads to a small cave like tunnel and then opens up to something that looks like the reed flute cave.
He can still feel the Watcher's gaze upon him, but it's always been there, waiting in the periphery. Once he doesn't have to see it, it's easy enough to ignore.
Gerard doesn't even try to hide his amazement at the sight through the door and down the tunnel, open-mouthed and staring.
"It's beautiful," he says, too scared to touch anything lest he mess it up.
The sight of the eye is enough to make Eames relax. He knows it's there, he feels it there, but he can't see it. That makes it somewhat better. For now.
He snorts softly at Gerard's wonder of the cave and leans against a wall.
"You can take a swim in the lake, it's cold but very pleasant."
And deep enough because Eames wants it so.
"But while you do that," he says and nudges Gerard's fingers that are still stuck between his own. "Tell me more about the eye. Or anything related. What does it want? What do any of them want?"
"Fear," Gerard answers that one easily, "They - are fears. It isn't a coincidence with what they represent. The Eye, the fear of being watched, judged. Dark, self explanatory there. The Slaughter, pure violence, as impersonal as a bullet fired into a crowded street. The Spiral, It Is Not What It Is, the fear that your perception of reality is lying to you, that you're going mad... they don't feed off of it, not really, they just are it. And like making more of it, if they can be thought to he intentionally doing anything."
Gerard had heard the theory that they're not even really aware of humanity, that all this is completely incidental. That is, somehow, more frightening.
Eames falls silent to think about it. He plays with Gerard's fingers while he stares at the still water surrounded by beautiful limestone pillars and formations.
"It sounds sort of Lovecraftian in its maddening scale of incomprehensible creatures," he says finally.
"How do you endure that eye? All the time? Why does like you in particular?"
"It fits my disposition, I suppose," Gerard replies, giving Eames' fingers a squeeze before letting go. He begins shedding clothing while he speaks, then. Eames said they could swim, so damn it, he's going to. He never could in a place like this in real life - enough run-ins with the leavings of the Dark, the Buried, the Lonely to ever want to try cave diving.
"Overwhelming curiosity, a horrible need to know, even being fully aware you will regret having that knowledge. At least, that's what I figure," he says, crouching down to take off his boots.
He has a small birthmark on his stomach, an almost heart-shaped smear of tan just above his navel. It's completely covered up by scar tissue in reality, but here, in the dream, the only marks his skin has are the tattoos and piercings, the marks he chose.
"As for how I endure it - I dunno. I never really had a choice not to. It's deal with it or give up and die."
While Gerard undresses, Eames watches him. The cave is barely his imagination, and while it is beautiful, it has nothing to the complexity of a human being, and Gerard is one that keeps Eames wondering and coming back to the delicate ways he is structured.
So of course he's going to look. And finally touch as well. His fingers light when they touch Gerard's nape and then run down along his spine.
"You have been living with this thing your whole life?" he asks quietly. "Since birth?"
What does it want from Gerard? A sudden clench at his gut makes Eames press his palm warm and flat against the small of Gerard's back.
Gerard has gotten used to Eames seeing him, but even so, he there's those little subconscious movements to hide his body when he's baring skin. Arms covering his torso when possible, being curled in on himself, trying to make himself smaller.
There's none of that now. He arches back into the warmth of Eames' hand, sighing with pleasure at the feeling - the feeling of it. Even the lightest touch is there and electric, and he briefly loses track of the conversation for it.
"...you can't really build a dynasty off them, not without a lot of work," Gerard explains. "They don't care who you're related to, assuming they even understand those connections. What matters is belief, your own disposition. Only one family's managed it that I know of, the Lukas family. Hilariously, they serve the Lonely. That's irony for you."
"Didn't stop my mum from wanting to try to make her own legacy that way, though. Didn't quite turned our like she planned. She couldn't have any kids after me, and not just because she murdered my dad in his sleep," she didn't actually. Eric Delano was awake, and Mary stabbed him in the neck with pruning shears. Gerard doesn't know this, though. "I didn't want anything to do with any kind of legacy she established, though, so the whole thing fell apart. The majority of my childhood was spent with take your son to work days when it came to meeting with the stuff of nightmares, though. So yeah, as long as I can remember, I've been in it. Thanks, mum. Bitch."
Of course, there is no scarring and nothing to block the sensation. Eames finds himself smiling as he moves to trace his other hand down along Gerard's spine as well. Obviously he is starving for the touch and sensation that comes with it.
He's already opening his mouth to say something, something about Gerard and how beautiful he is like this. But then falls silent as Gerard talks about his mother. He knows something about parents who have no regard for their child's happiness when it comes to their work. And honestly, there's very little he can say to that. Very little that would make it in any way better.
So, instead, he leans in to press his front to Gerard's back and traces his fingers down along his front next, his mouth touching the slope of Gerard's shoulder in a gentle kiss.
"So, in a sense she decided for you," he says quietly. "Our parents are often our worst drawback. I'm sorry to hear that, love." The sympathy in his voice is very genuine and deep, feeling an ache for Gerard right under his ribcage.
Once Gerard starts on about his mother it's very difficult to stop. Every part of his life revolved around her for so long, no matter how he tried to fight it. She's a poison he can never clear from his veins.
Having Eames touch him like this, though... having every slight caress able to be felt, no matter how soft. It feels like being touched for he first time. He's breathing hard and heavy before he knows it, pressed back against Eames, goosebumps rising on his skin.
"Just - keep touching me - " it's both a demand and a plea.
Eames presses closer to him, one arm circling Gerard's waist to hold him firmly while his other hand starts from Gerard's throat and makes a slow descend over his front toward his hips, fingertips light on his skin, counting ribs, diving into hollows and describing arches like a sculptor discovering the shape of something beautiful out of clay.
"Like this?" he asks softly beside Gerard's ear while both of his hands drop to his hips and from there to his thighs. "Where do you want me to touch?"
The question is followed by his lips mouthing the columns of Gerard's throat.
Gerard doesn't answer with words, just writhing against Eames at first before covering Eames' hands with his own and moving them from the tops of his thighs to slide down to the insides of them. It's just as good as Gerard remembered it feeling. Better, even. He'd gone wild from his the small amount that had full sensitivity before. Having it all back, if only in this shared dream...
"Oh God-" Gerard gasps, squirming against Eames like he's trying to crawl into his lap, to fuck himself on Eames' cock through his clothing. His own hands drag up to scratch marks up Eames' arms.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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even if I forgot to write itso he strips off his overcoat next, rolling up the sleeve of his arm that will be on the outside of the couch for easy access for Eames. He isn't sure where the ideal entry point is so he just makes sure the loose sleeve is secured above his elbow, given that thanks to the scar tissue it's easiest to find a vein on his wrist or the inside of his elbow where the tattoos have left a halo of clean skin around themselves.He still doesn't like showing skin, but he's getting used to it around Eames. Easy enough to find a comfy position on the couch. He's had a fickle relationship with sleep - like food - but getting comfortable was never the problem.]
How will I know it's working?
no subject
You will know. Don't worry about it. I'll show you the ropes when we get there.
[ He leaves Gerard on his perch on the couch and finds a comfortable position in his chair. The needle goes into his vein without a fuss, he could do this without looking even. ]
See you on the other side, [ he says mildly as he reaches over to push the button. ]
---
They're in London. It's summer and sun is high on the sky. They're standing in line for for the London Eye and Eames hands their tickets at the front to the smiling gate keeper and opens the door to the capsule for him. They're going to be alone, what a treat...
"Did you say you've never been up there?" Eames asks mildly as he guides Gerard in. "I suppose this could be a dream come true. Or maybe just a dream that feels so real you'd think it's actually... real."
no subject
In general, Gerard didn't have much time for things like ferris wheels.
"They're also called Observation Wheels," Gerard says mildly, going in when Eames directs him to, looking around the fully enclosed capsule. All alone in theirs, it'd be the perfect time to get a little frisky, under other circumstances.
"This is a dream," He says to Eames while he looks out the window, matter-of-fact, no disorientation or confusion to the statement.
no subject
"This is a dream. Your dream in fact. I'm the architect of it currently but you populate it with your subconscious. There are certain rules about how dreams work, love. But here you can do almost anything you like."
Almost. If you can brunt the consequences.
The pod climbs high above London with speed that doesn't correlate to how fast it feels. Soon there's a magnificent view opening below them.
"The key is to loosen up your imagination and know you can do something."
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"Mmm? Like what?" he asks, trying to distract himself from the watched feeling that's amplified a hundred fold since they got here. He can't see the Watcher in the sky yet but he knows it's there, or it wants to be and something about Eames being here is holding it back for now.
He just hopes it won't freak Eames out too badly when it opens.
On his hands, all the eye tattoos are still tattoos, thin delicate lines, small enough to be masterwork with how fine and detailed they are.
Out of sync with one another, they blink, slowly.
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"Rules?" Eames asks. "Well, those are for people who start to mess with the dream itself. As long as you're just a spectator, you're fine like this, spectating."
He takes a long drag from his cigarette and slowly detaches the pod from the machine, making it float over the city.
"But when you start to mess with the reality of the dream, when things in the dream start to bother the dreamer, his subconscious, his innate idea of reality and how it works, things start to get hairy."
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He's distracted, first by the delight of it, then by the pull in his gut, the sensation of being watched and before he even looks up instead of down, he knows what he'll see.
"Don't be afraid," he whispers to Eames. Above them, the eye opens, taking up the whole of the sky.
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"What is that?" he asks tensely, his jaw tight and expression unreadable. Yes, he's a little scared.
"Is that common in your world? Eyes opening on the sky?"
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The eye watches back, unblinking.
"The Ceaseless Watcher," Gerard says, because its here because if him, so he will have its focus anyway. His hand is still pressed against the window, still looking up as the colorless eye looks back down. Aside from the tension in his body, he gives no other sign of being afraid, himself.
"I've been marked by it since as long as I can remember. I get some protection from it-" the tattoos keeping back some of the burns "- but it isn't out of a sense of benevolence. It's because they're territorial. Common in the world? No. Common in my dreams? Almost every night."
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"It's a little creepy, love," he says quietly, his voice almost a whisper. "Is this what you talked about it looking into you when you look into it?"
Whatever it is, that giant eye, it gives Eames so many creeps he doesn't even know how to count them.
And they still have two hours in the clock. So, there's no out from the dream without... well. Things he'd rather not introduce to Gerard.
"Should we be worried?"
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Like Gerard says, it's not interested in hurting you- just giving you enough rope for you to hang yourself, and sitting back and watching the whole thing.
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"I suppose..." he starts, pausing for a moment before he finally pulls his gaze away and properly looks down at Gerard, going for a cheeky smile which doesn't feel all genuine but it's a good attempt. "We'll just ignore it for now."
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"Can you tint the upper parts of the windows? Like how you unhooked the capsle." Gerard asked. It won't make the eye go away, it won't hide them, but it will at least make it easier to not see it.
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"How about we do something else, hmm?" he says and the next time he looks down, the floor has turned into glass. There's a brief but magnificent view of London down below them before the pod lands on a rooftop and Eames takes Gerard's hand to lead him out and onto the rooftop. Not for long though, he aims for the door that hypothetically leads to the building below.
"This way, love," he says and refuses to glance up at the sky and that massive, bloody creepy eye just hanging there.
What opens up behind the door is not the building, though, but it leads to a small cave like tunnel and then opens up to something that looks like the reed flute cave.
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Gerard doesn't even try to hide his amazement at the sight through the door and down the tunnel, open-mouthed and staring.
"It's beautiful," he says, too scared to touch anything lest he mess it up.
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He snorts softly at Gerard's wonder of the cave and leans against a wall.
"You can take a swim in the lake, it's cold but very pleasant."
And deep enough because Eames wants it so.
"But while you do that," he says and nudges Gerard's fingers that are still stuck between his own. "Tell me more about the eye. Or anything related. What does it want? What do any of them want?"
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Gerard had heard the theory that they're not even really aware of humanity, that all this is completely incidental. That is, somehow, more frightening.
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"It sounds sort of Lovecraftian in its maddening scale of incomprehensible creatures," he says finally.
"How do you endure that eye? All the time? Why does like you in particular?"
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"Overwhelming curiosity, a horrible need to know, even being fully aware you will regret having that knowledge. At least, that's what I figure," he says, crouching down to take off his boots.
He has a small birthmark on his stomach, an almost heart-shaped smear of tan just above his navel. It's completely covered up by scar tissue in reality, but here, in the dream, the only marks his skin has are the tattoos and piercings, the marks he chose.
"As for how I endure it - I dunno. I never really had a choice not to. It's deal with it or give up and die."
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So of course he's going to look. And finally touch as well. His fingers light when they touch Gerard's nape and then run down along his spine.
"You have been living with this thing your whole life?" he asks quietly. "Since birth?"
What does it want from Gerard? A sudden clench at his gut makes Eames press his palm warm and flat against the small of Gerard's back.
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There's none of that now. He arches back into the warmth of Eames' hand, sighing with pleasure at the feeling - the feeling of it. Even the lightest touch is there and electric, and he briefly loses track of the conversation for it.
"...you can't really build a dynasty off them, not without a lot of work," Gerard explains. "They don't care who you're related to, assuming they even understand those connections. What matters is belief, your own disposition. Only one family's managed it that I know of, the Lukas family. Hilariously, they serve the Lonely. That's irony for you."
"Didn't stop my mum from wanting to try to make her own legacy that way, though. Didn't quite turned our like she planned. She couldn't have any kids after me, and not just because she murdered my dad in his sleep," she didn't actually. Eric Delano was awake, and Mary stabbed him in the neck with pruning shears. Gerard doesn't know this, though. "I didn't want anything to do with any kind of legacy she established, though, so the whole thing fell apart. The majority of my childhood was spent with take your son to work days when it came to meeting with the stuff of nightmares, though. So yeah, as long as I can remember, I've been in it. Thanks, mum. Bitch."
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He's already opening his mouth to say something, something about Gerard and how beautiful he is like this. But then falls silent as Gerard talks about his mother. He knows something about parents who have no regard for their child's happiness when it comes to their work. And honestly, there's very little he can say to that. Very little that would make it in any way better.
So, instead, he leans in to press his front to Gerard's back and traces his fingers down along his front next, his mouth touching the slope of Gerard's shoulder in a gentle kiss.
"So, in a sense she decided for you," he says quietly. "Our parents are often our worst drawback. I'm sorry to hear that, love." The sympathy in his voice is very genuine and deep, feeling an ache for Gerard right under his ribcage.
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Having Eames touch him like this, though... having every slight caress able to be felt, no matter how soft. It feels like being touched for he first time. He's breathing hard and heavy before he knows it, pressed back against Eames, goosebumps rising on his skin.
"Just - keep touching me - " it's both a demand and a plea.
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"Like this?" he asks softly beside Gerard's ear while both of his hands drop to his hips and from there to his thighs. "Where do you want me to touch?"
The question is followed by his lips mouthing the columns of Gerard's throat.
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"Oh God-" Gerard gasps, squirming against Eames like he's trying to crawl into his lap, to fuck himself on Eames' cock through his clothing. His own hands drag up to scratch marks up Eames' arms.
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