In the beat that followed his comments, John tried, definitely not for the first time that day and assuredly not for the last, to gauge Heisenberg's feelings. Certainly, he wasn't foolish enough to ever compare his past to that of the man standing beside him ( he rarely spoke of it to anyone in the Bureau in general unless prompted, because who was he to have the audacity to do so in light of what many of them had been through? he wouldn't ), and in a moment of deeper discussion if that door was ever cracked open to him, he knew he would never attempt to act like he could fathom it. However, discerning some base-level of understanding for the feeling of ' sudden and overwhelming choices ', even if they weren't the same, had seemed preferable to nothing in the midst of casual conversation.

Besides, he had liked the idea of Heisenberg considering him as more than just an agent whose existence began and ended within the parameters of the BPRD, as someone in possession of a life and diversions that were tethered to more than only missions or work — though he wasn't entirely sure when the desire for that had struck him the way that it did now. Had John hoped for such for a while ( not acknowledging it when he had suspected that he was only deemed tolerable ), or had it crept up on him when they were standing so close and he felt truly seen by his companion for the first time? The answer eluded him, yet neither was he prepared to instantly appraise the possibilities in this very moment. He was still leaning into this nearness: how much it pleased him, and the way they drew each other into it like magnets.

When a smile finally appeared upon Heisenberg's visage, John supposed that he hadn't made a lapse in judgement by acting overly familiar in speaking about himself, at least. "Already planning the second date? You're awfully confident," he teased with a subtle lift of his eyebrows. Pausing for a second, he mused over Heisenberg's words. "Concerts are great. Is that what a Schubertiade is supposed to be like? I've never heard of it before." Schubert-themed, of course, if the name was anything to judge by. Nevertheless, the idea that Heisenberg would want John there, even if it wasn't necessary for him to be, warmed the tips of his ears. "Tell me about it, but — " Another grin rose to his lips, one tinged with levity that he didn't attempt to quiet. "I'll preemptively say yes, I'd go with you."

He wasn't up on all his dog breeds, but that mattered less than John's easy, humored, implicit agreement with Karl's half-joking suggestion. What mattered a great deal, by contrast, was figuring out how the hell to answer that question about what he'd do for fun. It irked him that such a simple-sounding question felt so complicated, that he was still realizing more ways Miranda had fucked with his life. Surely the answer would come easier for anyone else; John probably had half a dozen, just in the time it took Karl to piece together one bit of vagueness. Maybe he should turn the question back around on the other man. Easier to go along with or comment on one of those ideas than be stuck in this overbright spotlight, showing another of his warped facets.

And if John hadn't spoken then, Karl would have done just that. Though he doubted the other's escape from a small town into the city was anything like his, getting pedantic about one thing in the midst of so much agreement and understanding seemed like a waste of energy. Instead, Karl let himself dwell on other aspects - what would going to the movies be like, how would it feel to take a nighttime walk at his own pace, would John want to come along for any of them. Fuck, was he getting clingy?

Maybe he was, since all he wanted to do at the sight of that smile was move in even closer. Nonetheless, Karl held himself in place, though the tap against his booted foot surprised him slightly. He managed another grin of his own, easier and steadier this time. "Wouldn't dream of forgetting. Might even see if this city's got enough culture to have a Schubertiade sometime; maybe for our second date. I do love a private experience, but hearing it live has to be that little bit extra, right?"

John could still feel the soft huff of breath against his skin, released as a muffled laugh, when Jun's tongue pushed into his mouth. It was met by a further parting of his lips, pleased at the deeper taste that proved to be far headier than he had even expected. Any more properly formed thoughts, however, were thoroughly scattered at the newly found weight of Jun's palm on his thigh. As John's heart stammered for a beat in his chest, his grip on the other man's shoulder tightened. How was he supposed to collect himself now, in the midst of this? The upwards glide of that hand seemed to answer the internal inquiry for him: he wasn't.

A quiet resounding in John's throat accompanied another eager press forward of his tongue against Jun's, grazing against teeth. Some felt sharper than he was generally accustomed to, prompting new queries to mind; nevertheless, he shoved them aside. Despite the fact that he was ( without any possible trace of doubt ) human, spending so much of his time among those who were not surely made jumping to presumptions in that vein more akin to a habit than an anomaly. Some people just had longer canines, it wasn't that unusual. Still, the notion stuck, though more out of amusement than any belief that it was worthy of merit.

As it stood, John was quite distracted enough regardless by Jun's attentive exploration of his mouth, his own fervency to do the same, and the gentle pressure on his leg. The avid urge to squeeze his companion's hip or slip his fingers just beneath that tank top hem was seared into each ensuing kiss, though some rational part of him maintained that he shouldn't ( not here, and not when it would be too easy to become caught up in the moment to remember where here even was ).

Perhaps it was a good thing, then, when Jun pulled back to place a little distance between them. He was in the midst of drawing in a few short breaths when another kiss was bestowed amid a soft chuckle. A quietly humored grin stole across John's visage as he made a guess as to what might have prompted it, and he ran his thumb over the spot where it had been placed. Before he could reply to the teasing remark that followed, Jun's touch brushed along the inside of his thigh. The gesture left sparks of pleasure radiating in its wake — his face grew warm again, and now he caught his lower lip between his teeth to bite back any noise louder than the gratified hum that escaped him. If they were somewhere else, John knew he would want to feel it again. "I could say the same," he whispered back, levity tinging his voice before he nodded his head in agreement with Jun's suggestion. "Yeah, let's get out of here."

A palm sliding up the back of Jun's neck and beneath beautiful dark hair, their lips slotted together in one more short, firm kiss before he finally rose to his feet; the hand he had placed atop the one on his chest kept its hold to help Jun up, too. "Did you have somewhere in mind?" Another smile flickered across John's countenance. "Or should we just see where we end up?"

Jun relished any pleased sound he managed to coax from John, down to that faint yet sweet little gasp. In the back of his mind, he knew there was only so far they could go here before the bartender might complain at them - but with a guy like this so close to him, Jun was sorely tempted to push right up to that line.

That temptation further fueled his enthusiasm when their lips finally met. John's answering hum reverberated through his mouth and fingers to slide a heated shiver down Jun's spine. His second sigh carried something closer to a purr than a hum, when his palm was pressed more firmly to the younger man's chest. And when John's other hand met his shoulder... damn, all the whims that conjured. Only the weight of the guitar on his back and the clinks of the bartender's glasses kept those whims in check.

Instead, Jun curled his fingers just a little against John's chest, not even opening his eyes when the latter barely pulled back from the kiss. A softly huffed chuckle was his sole agreement to that murmured tease. He let the rest of his answer show in his reciprocations of their deeper kiss. Half-true explanations for his fangs still at the ready, Jun didn't let that concern curb his eagerness. While his tongue slipped past parted lips to meet John's, his own free hand found the man's clothed thigh, sliding from the knee more than halfway up toward John's hip (and thus closer to his groin as well). Jun didn't push any further than that yet, engrossing himself more in exploring the other's mouth with the delicacy and dexterity of decades of experience.

By the time Jun pulled back - again, only far enough to speak - the faint taste of John's beer lingered on his tongue. Despite the setting solution used before the concert, he noticed he'd left a little smudge of dark purple on the other's lower lip, and gently kissed the spot with another short hummed laugh. "I think if I showed you just how glad I was, I'd get us kicked out for public indecency," Jun admitted, half-joking and just above a whisper, though with a brush of his thumb against John's inner thigh to punctuate. "Wanna get out of here?"

Ron Perlman as Hellboy in Hellboy (2004) 05/??

Valeria was lying. While John had always been adept at reading people, he didn't need to try terribly hard to do so now ( it was rather funny, wasn't it, that she could detect deceit in others yet couldn't quite hide her own? ). He wasn't certain whether she had vacated the premises unaccompanied, yet he couldn't blame her if she had. The mere thought of remaining within the confines of the Bureau as was expected of her with little say in when to come or go made him feel restless, and it was an edict that he disliked. It only drew clearer the line instated between humans and the paranormal — though John knew that not everyone was keen to see it erased the way he was. "Y'know, I did look there, but I must've missed you." Was it a lie to claim to accept someone else's lie even though he was aware it was a lie? What a convoluted question. "Actually, I just wanted to give these back to you." Holding out a pair of headphones in his hand, he continued, "I'm pretty sure they're yours, anyway. I figured you must've dropped them."

❛ where in the world have you been hiding? ❜

🔥 @myersbprd | POTO sentence starters | re :: valeria

What was she supposed to say? The TRUTH wasn't exactly the most liberating, when she was instructed to stay strictly within the Bureau's building. So she wasn't about to ADMIT completely that she had been wandering the rooftops of the city, far from the building, trusting only her innate instinct to lead her back the right way home. She settled with a sheepish shrug and an innocent widening of her amber eyes, emphasized by the arch in her dark brows. " I was in the LIBRARY, you didn't check there ?? " Worse yet, she had been following the sounds of gunshots without incentive to do so nor any call for back - up was considered in the moment ( either way was potential GROUNDING. ) Valeria cleared her throat, gesturing in the general direction of the main library, with some meager hope that Abe wasn't going to out her absence. " Something wrong ?? "

John's eyebrows rose at Luciana's initial response to his query. Don't freak out. Really, he wasn't certain whether he wished he could see what she did or not ( for strategic purposes, however, he supposed he might still swing closer to the former ). Not that it mattered — and her description was vivid enough as it was, even as her head whipped in the direction of a sound he couldn't hear. The summation Luciana concluded with coaxed a short, quiet huff past John's lips that might have been a laugh. "Well, the two don't have to be mutually exclusive." People were capable of supreme stupidity, often compounded by an absurd degree of arrogance: who evoked any being of power with the notion that it would be bound to their whims or rules? "If it's not a ghost, did it trick whoever summoned it into thinking it is?" Like a group of kids with a Ouija board ' reaching out to the beyond ' to prove their bravery; like someone lonely searching for a loved one they had lost. "Or is it trying to trick us?" Neither option presented itself to him as better than the other, though the second one at least garnered them the possibility of allowing it to believe they were fooled and using it to their advantage. "Can you tell?"

❛ who was that shape in the shadows? ❜

🔥 @myersbprd | POTO sentence starters | re :: luciana

Her breath hitched in the back of her throat, and she wished her reactions were never this visceral, but she had yet to really understand the intricacies of her sight and the creature that began crawling its way up the corner of the room was no SPIRIT that used to be human. A fact of the other side no medium could ignore. " Don't freak out when I tell you this ... " as if that alone was enough to calm anyone down, " but don't turn around. Whatever you do. " Its head snapped out of place and though no one else in the room could, she heard its creaky bones crack like pencils being snapped in half. It was enough to make her jolt and whip her head away from its direction. " Jesus - why do they all gotta be so damn CREEPY looking !! It's posing as a woman with a noose ... but it was never a woman. I don't think it was ever alive. " she looked up to the chandelier of this dilapidated ballroom. The entire house was like something out of a classical haunting. Victorian, abandoned, freaked neighbors recount unnerving noises, and sightings of disturbed teenagers doing disturbed things. It was practically a template for a horror film. " Someone must have summoned whatever this is for a reason. That, or they're just STUPID. "

"I get that." And John does. He loathes the feeling of turning around in circles in his own mind, of attempting to slot together pieces of a metaphorical puzzle that don't quite fit but he can't figure out why.

Tilting his head, his gaze studies the uncharacteristic severity of Isaac's countenance. "I think a distraction can be useful, detaching from what's frustrating you for a while and coming back later with a new perspective. Or, talking through it out loud, just to hear yourself say it. I could help with either of those." A quiet grin rises to John's lips. "Y'know, if you want."

Questioning Sentence Starters // Still Accepting @myersbprd asked: "You look awfully serious. Is everything okay?"

Though his facial expressions are usually quite animated, Isaac has been rather stone faced as of late. He's got his arms folded and his jaw set, brows in a knot as his eyes rest on the floor. It's only when he's actually reminded of it that he notices.

"Hm?" One brow lowers, the other staying put. "Oh." He says, forcing his jaw to relax. "I suppose I've just been lost in thought. A case I've been working on has me stumped and, frankly, that makes me angry."

The seriousness allotted to the decision of which baked good to try wasn't one John was certain that he understood. Then again, there was plenty about Warlock in general that he was still attempting to unravel, even now. For all of his questions and their discussions concerning the supernatural, he never failed to carry with him the indelible feeling that much remained ' hidden from view. ' John had been told once that perhaps he would be privy to it someday, a sentiment that may have proven difficult enough on its own to impart to him with just the little he had discerned of Warlock's past ( and even that of it which was rather recent ). There always appeared to be so much to contend with in his friend's head, and he wondered if inquiries about it would only present themselves as prying into that which wasn't open to him; he harbored no surety as to whether they were connected, yet wasn't it a likely supposition that they were?

Any further contemplation was cut off by Warlock's vocalized pastry prerequisite. "As long as it doesn't have icing, they'll probably be willing to warm it up. Otherwise, it just melts and gets all over the inside of the oven." A smile tinged with chagrin crept across his face. "I might know that from previous experience." Then, he glanced to the patisserie case again. "It looks like theirs are just glazed though, so I think it'll be all right." John wasn't surprised that Warlock had taken particular notice of the scones; they did look quite good, even amid the rest of the stand's delicately organized assortment of offerings. Maybe such care was given since it didn't seem to be attached to a larger chain — which he preferred, as he favored local establishments as a general rule ( his coworkers had jokingly labeled him a ' coffee snob ' as a result, yet he supposed it was true ).

As the customer in front of them exited with their purchase, he stepped up to the register with his hand still in Warlock's. Upon receiving confirmation that the vanilla scone could, in fact, be warmed, John added it to their order before adding an Americano for himself. Withdrawing his wallet to pay ( he let his fingertips brush against Warlock's palm when he broke contact, with the hope that doing so would alleviate any possible notion that he was utilizing it as an opportunity to pull away in indifference ), his gaze turned to his companion. "D'you want anything else? I think they have tea."

Warlock himself wasn't sure whether he'd try to push through for others' comfort or just reach a balking point - mostly because, he doubted this little experience would go so horribly as to bring him to that choice. Hestia had been somewhat flexible before on what might count as toast or soup, and it wasn't like he was forbidden from eating anything else; those two options just helped the most and felt the best to eat, and kept Hestia quiet. Regardless, John's thoughtfulness warmed Warlock's heart as always, and he nodded once again.

It helped that, as they approached the stand's counter, Warlock could smell hints of toasted bread amid the coffee. Presuming he wasn't having some sort of serious medical episode, it meant they'd have at least some options for him to choose from. And indeed, John drew Warlock's attention to a case full of various breads and little desserts. Not a medical episode at all, quite the opposite. All the options John suggested sounded delicious, and he didn't notice any strong objection from Hestia on any of them, only a firm reminder.

Meeting John's glance, Warlock echoed that reminder to him. "Whatever can be warmed before I eat it." He looked to the case again, chin propped between his free hand's forefinger and thumb in serious consideration. Doing his best to narrow down the options in his head - difficult though it was - Warlock found his gaze drawn more and more to the scones. They were different from the English ones he was accustomed to, but they did look quite nice nonetheless. "A scone, I think, if it can be warmed. Vanilla. If not..." Another small, thoughtful pause. "...Then a croissant." Warlock looked to John first this time, hoping he hadn't come off as picky or demanding, like he had in the past with others.

John felt rather ridiculous for the inquiry he had posed, and he supposed Hellboy might think of him much the same. Perhaps he should have bitten it back, yet he wanted to know. As it was, he was tired of parrying the internal question of whether he was not enough or too much, of whether giving voice to certain sentiments that pulled at him would cause Hellboy to flush with appreciation or freak out. However, John was somewhat distracted from the thought by fingers grazing along his scalp, which prompted him to instinctively tilt his head into his partner's touch at the pleasure of it; it felt so good, though his own reaction belatedly reminded him of the way Jasmine would bump into his hand if he ceased petting her before she was quite finished with him. When that warm palm moved to the back of his neck ( a faint shiver traveling down his spine when a thumb began grazing along the skin behind his ear ), John's attention returned fully to Hellboy's countenance.

Nothing he saw there caused any trepidation to filter through him — quite the opposite, really. It gratified him endlessly ( the affection present in Hellboy's gaze in particular, which told him everything he could have ever wished to know ). John's eyes flickered shut for just a beat as a kiss was pressed to his lower lip, accented by a quiet hum. "You do," he said, followed by a nod in agreement with the echoed response. As memories of Hellboy's self-conscious questioning in the Professor's study earlier that day about whether his feelings had changed as a result of the fae's spell surfaced in his mind, he continued, "And if you ever forget, I'll remind you again." Another hint of color rose to John's face, though fainter this time. "Like you did for me in the truck before, and when I fixed your hair."

Oh, it hadn't been stated directly or in a flowery fashion, yet it hadn't needed to be worded in some specific manner for it to mean to him what it did. In those quiet moments of assurance when his confidence faltered ( when cracks in his veneer grew discernable to a degree he never intended ), Hellboy didn't look at him like it made him lesser than he had been. Although John still couldn't quite shake the predilection to conceal those facets of himself, not yet, there was such a relief in the knowledge that even if he wasn't thoroughly successful in the endeavor, he wouldn't be pushed away. Maybe that was what home was supposed to feel like.

Anything further was set aside as he shifted his attention to the unlatching truck doors. "Probably. I doubt I'll be able to convince him to hold off a second time." His persuasion in the Bureau's hallways earlier in the day had been predicated on the factor of time, which was no longer relevant. Already, John suspected that it would prove even more difficult for him to maintain his sense of diplomacy than it usually was should Manning's hostility towards Hellboy breach a certain point; his companion had been through enough without whatever barbed affronts the director might initiate. Shoving the idea to the side for one more short moment, his fingers drifted to settle on Hellboy's chest. "At least now you won't make him jealous with all of your silver hair," he teased. "Anyway — " John leaned in and tilted his head until his lips brushed against Hellboy's ear. "While we're doing this first, maybe it'll help if you think about what we can do second." With a quick nip of his teeth to Hellboy's earlobe, he took one of the other man's hands in his as the back of the vehicle swung open. "Let's go."

Hellboy's embrace tightened that much more when John raised up off his heels to lessen the height difference a little. It turned out he had good timing, as the truck slowed and made another turn, no doubt approaching the Bureau by now. In the back of his mind, Hellboy knew they'd likely have to debrief Manning on how things had resolved once they were out of the truck. No matter how much he'd rather whisk John right off to bed for a nice cuddle, and maybe more if they were both in the mood. But until then, there was this moment.

When their kiss broke, Hellboy's eyes only slivered open halfway, and he made no attempt to loosen his hold on his partner. Breath catching softly in his throat, the only other clear thought amid a fresh welling of 'I love him' was a mildly humored but wholly affectionate, 'He really is good with words'. His left palm, still resting on John's cheek, slid back a little to skim fingernails over the other man's scalp. As Hellboy listened to every word, each one of them resonated with his own feelings. It still struck him sometimes, how John could have had almost anything else with anyone else. The guy had the talent, the smarts, the looks, the big heart, everything to be not just a reliable colleague but an amazing partner. Yet even with all that, with 'normalcy' so easily in reach... John chose the Bureau. He chose Hellboy, despite their rocky start, and despite the fact they could never just go out on a lunch date or even be seen in public. He chose their own little world that they'd built together.

Even so, the blushing question it all ended on nearly tugged a fond laugh from his chest. He managed to hold it back, though endearment still glittered bright in Hellboy's low-lidded gaze. His hand moved further, to cradle the back of John's head, scarred palm pressed to his neck and thumb now brushing soft skin behind one ear. "It's more than okay. Yeah, you belong with me." A soft peck to his partner's lower lip, to underscore Hellboy's sincerity. "Just like I belong with you."

Before he could say much more, the truck slowed to a halt and the engine shut off. Hellboy's embrace remained; he didn't mind other agents seeing him hold the man he loved, not unless John was uncomfortable. "Sounds like we're home." As he heard the rear doors' exterior lock slide open, he added on a sigh, "...Guess we gotta debrief Manning first, huh? Bastard won't stop nagging otherwise."

@amused-bouche said: (More stolen memes from my blog. From Geo. He's trying to learn to cook.) "Taste this and tell me what you think!"

Leaning against the counter, John was attempting not to be the cooking equivalent of a ' backseat driver. ' He had been preparing most of his own meals since he ten years old, yet he hadn't learned with someone looking over his shoulder and instructing him on exactly what to do each step of the way ( even if perhaps, at that age, he should have ). Instead, he regulated himself to answering questions, commenting only when he really felt he should. As it was, Geo proved more than competent, while the enthusiasm upon his friend's face throughout the endeavor prompted a subtle grin to John's own countenance. "Will I be the first taste-tester for this one, then? I'm honored." Although quiet teasing was laced through his voice, he truly did appreciate that Geo cared for his opinion. Taking the plate he was offered, he gestured to a drawer and continued, "Hand me a fork and I'll give it a try."

when e.e. cummings said “i’ll live my life if it kills me”

𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃  &  𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐅𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄    (a  series  of  nonverbal  prompts .    ‘ my ’ muse  belongs  to  the  one who  posted  the  meme  -  send   “ + reverse ”   to  reverse  the  prompts .)

@legaciestold said: lean (from Liz)

The ride back to headquarters feels endless.

To be fair, it's not unexpected. After all, they'd had to cross state borders into Pennsylvania to deal with the small band of goblins snatching hikers off state park trails. The particularly nasty sort who were predisposed to utilizing their victims' blood as dye for clothing, the murders had initially been attributed to an indiscriminate coven of vampires after drained bodies were discovered; the true culprits proved far easier for the BPRD to handle, though civilian lives had been needlessly lost regardless.

John's not certain why ( perhaps it's the small towns they had driven through to reach their destination, or maybe the crime scene photos they had viewed of a family who's counted among the dead ), but the mission has jolted his parents to the forefront of his thoughts. Were they waylaid by such creatures, only those that were far more careful to clean up after themselves? It would explain so much that's never made sense to him concerning their disappearance, like the way they seemed to vanish as if they had simply driven straight off the edge of the world. Humans might find it difficult to ensure so complete a vanishing of two grown adults and a vehicle, yet someone else —

He's brought back to the here and now by a sudden weight against his shoulder that sends his gaze flickering to the side. Liz.

"Hey." The greeting is offered quietly, John's voice almost prompted to softness amid the dwindling light filtering in through the backseat windows. Although he knows that she doesn't anticipate him filling every moment of quiet between them ( they've always been good at those comfortable silences that are intimate but devoid of expectations ), he wonders if this time, it may have felt distant — his fault. "I guess I went somewhere else."

who up hellboy posting in 2024

comm info (pinned)

Although John didn't allow himself to stare, he noticed the change in demeanor that followed the nudge he had given Heisenberg. There was the waning of a smile, a widened eye, and — was he imagining the faint sign of color that sprung to the other man's cheeks? Was it the sudden and further closeness that had done it, or the teasing? He supposed that, if it was anything, it was more likely to be some combination of both. However, as beats passed without acknowledgement of it, John considered how he had only ever witnessed red rising along Heisenberg's skin as a result of anger; replete with humor as it was, the reply which came soon after was not that, and his companion wasn't one to hold back in the face of perceived disrespect. No, if he hadn't mistaken it, then this was something else. His heartbeat sped a little quicker as he mused over it, but he liked it, just as he liked the way Heisenberg wanted to be in his space and the idea that the flush he thought he saw was real.

The notion faded from his mind when John glanced in the werewolf's direction at the tip of Heisenberg's head. Their quarry watched them with such detestation simmering behind those wary eyes. It reminded him of all the adjectives he had assigned the suspect prior to entering the junkyard ( sadistic, craven, pathetic ), some vocalized while others remained internal, and he still stood by them now; funny how Manning's fear of some of the Bureau's own not-exactly-human agents would be comparable to the dismay that was liable to be felt over the real monster in front of them. "I think he has a Shih Tzu at home, so he is a dog person." The amusement that threaded through his voice as he spoke also crept into his grin as his gaze shifted back to Heisenberg once more.

It quieted, however, at the repetition of John's question. ' For fun? ' It was stated as though it wasn't fully understood, like he had phrased it in a strange way that Heisenberg had never heard before. The displayed perplexity prompted a hollowed out sort of feeling in his chest. It was beyond the, ' regardless of the past, no one deserves that — ' of it all, reaching instead into the realm of, ' what if life had been the way it theoretically should have been? ' The conclusion to that question would never rework the irrevocability of history, but the future was always a choice. And after everything he had learned about Heisenberg since they first met ( not what he had read in a file, but what he had come to know as a result of proximity, conversation, and time ), John was curious in the best sort of way as to where that choice would lead.

"Choosing what you want to do all day or night, then knowing that you can just do it. That sounds pretty good." He tilted his head slightly. "The first time I really did that after I got out of the town I'd been stuck in my whole life, walking around under the streetlights — it was kinda great. And trying things can be almost as much fun as figuring out whether or not you actually like them, like going to the movies and realizing that the one you picked sucks but you enjoy watching it anyway. Maybe that's even why you end up enjoying it." A brief pause, as another smile played across his lips. "You'll have to tell me what you think about everything you try, because I want to know." Then, John tapped the side of Heisenberg's boot with the tip of his shoe. "But in the meantime, don't forget that Schubert date you promised me earlier either, all right?"

The sight of John trying and failing to hide an answering smile only made Karl's own grin settle in more. He'd never really expected it to be a thrill, finding ways to fluster and praise someone else, but here he was. Here they were. Though John's answering lean closer for a nudge was unexpected, it was the tease that followed which caused a little stumble in Karl's chest. The beginnings of a flush prickled high on his cheeks, his good eye widened, yet his broad smile didn't entirely fade. What really shook him, more than the tone or the closeness, was just how true it was. He'd said so first, but something about hearing it repeated back at him stripped it of the safe, lighthearted mantle he'd wrapped it in. Karl liked this. He liked not only getting to venture outside, but getting to do so with John. He liked how easily the other could trade banter, how well they were already working together, how it felt to succeed with John watching him. He liked it all, enough to not want to let go.

The other's mention of another question yanked Karl out of his abrupt realizations, grateful for a shift in topic. A silently deeper breath, some of which escaped in a light snort. "We'd better be. Or Manning's getting a new puppy in his office." A tip of his head toward the caged werewolf illustrated exactly what was meant. The actual question, however, took Karl aback a little and drew his gaze to John once more. "For fun?" he echoed, thoughtful, baffled, and trying to hide both under a thin veneer of easy confidence.

What had 'fun' been, or become? For decades, there was tinkering, smithing, watching the peons flee lycans like rats in a maze, getting on Alcina's nerves occasionally. Ethan Winters had been a bright spot, but that lasted like the wink of a setting sun. Then came his second imprisonment, with scarcely enough clarity to do more than dream of the ways he could kill his captors. Now...? Now freedom felt close enough to taste, and he was at a loss what he'd even do with it.

"Whatever I want." That confident veneer didn't grow any sturdier. "Maybe go for a night on the town - or a day. Maybe both." It was almost embarrassing how the idea of merely taking a walk in a park for as long as he wanted sounded appealing.

Jun's laugh against his ear both prompted another grin from John and sent a pleasant thrill down his spine, one which made itself known in the subtle manner he leaned in just a little closer. He was then surprised by a gentle kiss to his jaw — surprised in the best way, particularly so when the fingers he couldn't see coming grazed against his cheek. As Jun's mouth continued along his skin, it was truly no use suppressing his quiet inhale of breath, though he fought to keep his eyes from fluttering shut at the sensation. They were so close now that it seemed like a charade at best to maintain any further semblance of distance between them ( and John didn't wish to ).

Subtly shifting nearer to Jun atop the stage until those final few inches were gone, the hand he had leaned on now pulled away, he couldn't help but think — I don't usually do this with someone I just met. It had been more usual while he was in college, when attending classes full-time and working two jobs had left him with few hours to spare with the intention of pursuing anyone; instead, it had just sort of happened ( well, perhaps that hadn't been the entire truth of his reasoning; it had been after Laura too, though he harbored no desire to think about that at the moment ). This, with Jun: it wasn't planned either, yet it felt natural, like sparks chasing after a flame. John didn't want it to stop.

When fingers reached for his chin, he wondered for a split-second if he ought to ease what space remained and kiss Jun first; the idea had barely formulated before their lips met, his eyes falling closed with pleasure at the sigh he was granted in the midst of it. A hum of his own resounded as that touch traveled down his throat ( damn, that felt nice ) and over the fabric of his Henley shirt to rest atop his heart — softly, as if questioning. Pressing one palm against Jun's in silent approval, the other came to rest on the other man's shoulder while John's thumb traced back and forth along the edge of an exposed collarbone.

As he drew back just enough to murmur, "And now I hope you're very glad," he found himself leaning back in almost before he had finished speaking, the final syllable melded into another kiss as his lips parted against Jun's.

The parting of those lips, the blush blooming on those ears in the corners of his vision, that grin... God, it was almost unfair how cute John was.

Cute, and just as adept at teasing. Jun's own smile broadened for a flash of teeth, his laugh carrying an almost flustered sheepishness amid its warmth this time. "Glad to hear it." He punctuated with a soft, too-brief kiss to the hinge of the other's jaw, while he raised one hand to brush the backs of his knuckles over John's cheek.

That hand moved forward, in close tandem with the trailing brushes of Jun's lips against the younger man's skin. He shifted his posture just enough to bring their mouths close once more, gently holding John's chin between thumb and curled forefinger. Half a beat, as Jun considered whether to add some other remark, then he decided against it and simply leaned in. The vocal tinge in his sigh as their lips met said more than enough already.

Letting go of John's chin, Jun trailed slim fingertips down the front of the other's throat to his chest. His palm spread gingerly over the man's heart, equal parts tender and cautious, every movement asking silent permission.

*obsessed with the way this looks like john just taking a selfie with some friend he met through work