c17h19no3 | It's about you, me, and tautology

Entry tags:

jigen,
lupin

It's about you, me, and tautology

What rouses him from slumber isn't a deep, satisfying yawn, the crack of his jaw over the need for oxygen to his brain, the darkness that envelops his bedroom, or the incessant chirp of birds outside his window.

He's lightheaded. It isn't the kind that comes hand in hand with a hangover after a satisfying night, no. Breaths are caught tight in his chest and throat and his legs are cramped, bracketed by something other than the humble frame of his bed. Lupin is sure this is some shit when his palms settle against wood. The air, what minimal air he has left, is thick with the scent of sandalwood.

He's in a goddamn coffin. This is decidedly not how last night ended. He and Jigen Daisuke had teamed up again for a certain painting, one held in an armored vault with a mind of its own (supposedly. Not much of one left after Arsene Lupin III got done with it. Nothing but gibberish after, not even enough for The Man Behind the Curtain.)

The first lesson in Waking Up in Your Own Coffin is to breathe as shallowly as possible, right? (He has no idea. This is his first time he'll care to remember in his adult life). His belt! His belt should have something...

His fingers feel heavy and fumble with the belt buckle, the sharp corners will probably be able to dig through the vinyl and wood pretty decently. Enough.

By the time he's dug through part of the lid his fingers are bloody and his breathing comes out fast and he's trying to keep his noises as minimal as possible, Grandpa would be able to get out of this in two snaps of his fingers, so why not him--

And that's when he hears a noise. A person shaped noise.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He breathes in the chuckles Jigen exudes, closes his eyes and just breathes them in deep, lips lingering. Yes, this is what it's like to be alive. A hole in your gut, weariness and that electric shock of energy clamoring for victory in your veins, the sound of complete strangers fucking from a few doors down. The taste of Pall Mall's, a new treasure on the horizon and revenge all but ashes. That's what living is.

(and if this hole in his gut is all he has to remember this, well)

The fingers of one hand run down Jigen's side as he answers just loudly enough for what he's pretty sure is a proposition from the lady. If it was from the dude, well.

"Maybe if we're both up for round two tomorrow...I think you've got a full night of grade A acting ahead of you."

Those grays then flicker back to his companion, rapt at attention.

"I'm still breathing, aren't I? As long as I can do that, I can even crawl if need be, to get it."

This goddamn Casanova with an arsenal of one-liners, no matter how much blood he's lost. Jigen is beyond marveling at the fact that Lupin loves as naturally as he metabolizes, but this isn't quite love, is it? This Lupin can make even a proposition sound like a dare, a game of chicken.

(Who'll cave first?)

But it's that glint in the kid's eyes, coupled with words so earnestly biting that remind Jigen of... himself, maybe. Himself, when he stands in front of an army of blazing guns and holds his principles to his heart. The kind of proof of living when he's held at gunpoint.

That says something about the both of them, he supposes.

He moves Lupin over so he can swing his legs up on the bed and shimmy up to rest his back against the headboard, and then crooks a finger to tell the kid that he can come close again if he wants.

"Don't. I don't want to be there when I see you crawling."

(It hurts, don't it?)

(to have your own medicine, packed into your wounds to keep the pieces together)

(spit back out at you wearing that face)

The only interest he shows in being moved over, a gentle sack of potatoes, is the tilt of his chin and the owlish blink he garners Jigen with. He watches him move, and then a smirk scrawls across his mouth in response.

"Are you sure? It might be interesting to see it happen. Might wake something up."

He does a mimicry of a crawl, on his elbows, torso held as far off the mattress as possible (but he still hisses with every jerk of movement) until he's finally sprawled across his not-partner's lap.

"As long as I can still crawl...it'll be worth it."

(It doesn't suit Lupin, the role of the lone ranger waiting for absolution from a bullet.)

(Jigen would much rather his partner be the one sitting on the barcounter in the saloon, a woman tucked under each arm and watching the duel from an open door, drinking fire-hot bourbon as Jigen stains the ground red.)

(Biting the dust doesn't suit Lupin, and Jigen selfishly doesn't want to see it any more than he already has.)

A callused palm hits the crown of Lupin's head, swatting it with more affection than venom.

"I'm not the sadist here. Like hell I'm gonna enjoy seeing you rolling around. That's not the man I partnered with."

He'd much rather see Lupin whine and bitch and moan and ask Jigen for piggybacks than see this kid with his elbows scabbed and bloody— his eyes narrow for a second in a hurt that's impossible to diagnose, but they relax when he tells himself that this one will get there. He'll learn.

Broad shoulders still too thin bundled within Jigen's jacket jerk as he blinks, one hand flying to the top of his head, palm flat. His expression is open, a different kind of wonder painted across his visage.

His lips twist as he flops onto his back.

"No, you're definitely an M. He should keep going no matter how he has to drag himself there...that's the Lupin way. That and always have a hankerchief."

Watching the strangest of expressions flicker across Jigen's face quiets him, though, stows the bluster--

(and the anger, the outrage, it isn't fair, he didn't have to crawl so lowly right on the vulnerable skin of his belly--)

and gently pats Jigen's cheek with his palm.

"Maybe not anymore. But once."

Jigen's usual animal association of choice for Lupin is a wiry, self-important cat, but there's something a little canine about Kid Blue. Lupine? That's not meant to be a pun, but Jigen laughs to himself about it anyway, a brief, private chuckle.

"So you're admitting that you're a sadist."

His good humor hasn't waned yet, is stubbornly settled in his gut, so he takes the pat and returns it with one to his past-present partner's forehead. The hand stays there, and Jigen cranes forward to plant his own lips against the back of it. He's cheating, he knows.

"I'm gonna say what I said last night, by the way. You're halfway to being cute when you're out of your depth."

"Sadist, artist...it's a pretty relative answer, actually." Cue the curl of one of those kitty grins at the corner of his mouth, those eyes all knowing for a brief second. Braggingly so.

(if only he knew 'Kid' was present in every press of himself in Jigen's mind)

(he wouldn't be so cocky then)

Then it's dashed, as much of the bluster can tend to be, like popping a bubble on its maiden voyage. Despite the pressure of Jigen's hand on his forehead, and the clear imagining of chapped lips against his skin instead, his cheeks puff up as he scowls.

"How many times do I have to say it? I'm handsome. Keep that up and I might make you take back those words."

Every time Lupin insists on Jigen treating him like an adult (a handsome one), the posturing backfires and makes Jigen want to wind the kid up a little more; it's not every day he gets to, and even if this isn't his Lupin, the reactions skim close enough that it fills his satisfaction for a 'what if'.

(Let's give this Lupin something to feel good about. Reassurance in coarse palms and gruff acceptance.

It's only temporary.)

"What are you gonna do, bleed on me? You've done that already, you're clean out of threats."

Grays narrow. Shoulders lift off the bed while deft fingers hook in the loop of Jigen's tie. There's a subtle shift in his face.

"No, that's already gotten to you...and not just the dry cleaning bill."

(he has to be careful, because that anger won't easily be forgotten)

(not when it comes to these eyeteeth)

Those fingers drag Jigen down, down, down, until they're nose to nose.

"I'm thinking something that lingers. Bleach can't get me out."

(bleeding for him would be the worst he could ever do. and he won't)

He's quick to press their mouths together lightly, with minimal pressure.

Oh, but even that's enough to get Jigen to smile despite himself, that assertion that the kid wants to be difficult to wipe off, as if Lupins aren't quick-growing stains on everyone's hearts already. Jigen wouldn't be here if his footsteps didn't find Lupin everywhere, he wouldn't have found this version of his partner if there wasn't even a sliver of him that spoke to quiet harbors tucked deep into Jigen's vest.

He thinks about the benefits of telling this kid that, that he's already going to linger in a corner of his head where Jigen'll attribute ceruleans and moons with him.

(And maybe next time his stupid idiot finds himself in a coffin, the next time he hears scratching from the other side, Jigen'll expect the surprise visitor; open up the casket and raise his brows and laugh. "You again?")

The kiss is as fleeting as their time together, but like many things, Jigen doesn't begrudge it. He accepts it, and the only real preference he has is that he won't have to say goodbye behind the barrel of a gun.

"Write your name in Sharpie on my collar next time," he chuckles, and bumps his forehead against Lupin once, exasperated and dry.

(And Lupin will just put his hand out, palm up, and ask for a light. "Too bad...you don't get a vacation this time, either.")

He doesn't realize yet, that he really is that brat peeking round a corner, possible to ignore but not to forget. And Jigen is.....well, Jigen. A wolf but not. An obsessively polished gun, lovingly, and not.

He presses one more, just one more, just one more kiss until it becomes three, a burst of electricity across warm breath and a sigh.

"I'll pose this question again....what makes you think I haven't marked you here?"

He drags one finger down, down, from the knot of Jigen's tie, down, to land right smack dab against his heart, thudding dully beneath the fabric of his shirt.

Lupin's lips are cold, a reminder of blood loss and lack of layers. There's no way to remedy the former, but the latter is dealt with by sharing body heat, with a sigh and a grunt as Jigen relinquishes his original idea of wiping Lupin clean while he's passed out. A coarse hand rubs at his temporary partner's shoulders, creating friction while that index finger roots out his beating core.

"...Hey. I'm not the Jigen Daisuke you're going to go back to."

It's as close to a reprimand as Jigen is going to give, and it also isn't an answer to the posed question— but the deflection is answer enough, close enough to an affirmative that, were he here, Lupin in red would throw up his hands and say 'arara, Jigen is always too sentimental'.

"I already told you to forget about all of this when you go back. Stop giving me a hard time."

He's outgrown the 'can we keep him's, but despite his misgivings, he's too fond already; it's a bad sign, when he gets protective.

That earns him a rather impolite snort, his gaze patient as he peers up at his not-partner. Leave it to Jigen to shit on his party, back to reality.

(why does he feel the need to remind him? It sends a node of irritation through him; does he think he'd just forget? Jigen is Jigen.)

"You were, once." The easy expression shifts into something solemn, almost stern. All his (few) years gathered beneath the lines of his mouth as he says: "And I already told you, I refuse to forget. This is a part of me as much as any other. I won't let anyone take that from me."

That said, he curls, gingerly, onto his side, and presses his cheek against Jigen's stomach just to feel him breathe.

(They're both fucking saps, to be honest)

He wants to say that that's not the point, that knowing and feeling aren't necessarily mutually exclusive. Jigen's been burned far too many times on that front to ignore the fact that it's not as easy to say goodbye to a memory as it is to say goodbye to a corpse; but the kid has a point, they won't really exchange farewells if they've still got another present-future to look forward to, right?

This is way too much for Jigen to process, actually.

So, to hell with it. He rubs a hand over his face, wipes his confusion away with a palm, and flicks it to the side as if he's done considering all the things he'll never make sense of.

"That's right. You're Lupin the Third, of course you'd want to take everything you can get."

A long exhale, to let the weight of that head settle into his skin.

"—By the way. If you wake up and I'm not here, don't panic."

That's right, he should take a page out of Lupin's book sometime. He's refused to stop thinking about it, has barricaded that part of his heart off where nothing can seep in through the cracks. At least not easily.

He hums to himself, grays peeking up past the rust-colored stain of blood on Jigen's shirt. "Damn right. I've found a few treasures I finally want...I've finally found some things I want....finally, finally...so I'm going to get them. In this time line or the next, it doesn't matter."

He feels Jigen's exhale right through the fabric and wants to feel more (always more), so deft fingers unfasten the last four buttons of his shirt from the bottom with lightning-quick movements, so he can press his face to his stomach further.

"Don't forget to get ice. And maybe I just won't sleep yet."

The admission is, again, cute. Lupin says the word 'finally' like it's a prayer on his lips, and thank god the kid's found something he can want aside from a general feeling, an abstract idea. Including himself in that equation is strange, so he thinks about Fujiko and mumbles under his breath:

"Yeah, well, you'll be chasing that woman for a while."

Be gentle on the kid, Fujiko... not that Jigen thinks she will, she's just as ruthless as Lupin is when it comes down to holding on and not letting go. A hn, accompanied by a slight jiggle of his knee.

"If you're not gonna sleep, and if you're gonna stay still, I'll go get towels and get some of that blood off you. Some kid's gonna think you're a zombie."

It's really all a matter of catching her, first. Well, more like its the chase, first and foremost. It's always been about that, with all of his treasures and baubles.

(its not enough to touch her, or him, or have nails, rough or manicured, scoring down his back until his spine is ripped open and filled with just them--)

Ear turned against the planes of Jigen's belly, he certainly doesn't hear what he says with clarity. Too tuned in to the rumble that buzzes in his head.

"No. Don't get up. Not allowed. Just stay here awhile, those kids could use a good scare so they eat their veggies..."

And the little bastard presses his open mouth right onto Jigen's navel. A tongue pokes out to swipe at sweat-laced skin. The taste of blood and gunpowder and Jigen is all there.

"Hey." A jostle, a tap of knuckles against short, ruffled hair. "Hey."

Coarsewarm tongue on his skin, Jigen raises a brow mid-motion in setting his beloved hat aside to focus his attention on the catlike slither of heat bristling up from that one point of contact. He'd be rougher with prying those knowing lips off of him if he wasn't afraid of Lupin staining those bandages with red again; even a full heart can't do much against steady bleeding.

"Don't get riled up, idiot. It's not gonna do either of us any good."

He doesn't want to be responsible for wounds splitting open because of indecent strenuous exercise, even if it wouldn't be the first time something like that's happened— the mental image makes him laugh, even, the thought of this stupid kid trying to keep going with a hole in his gut, trying to pretend that the pain is worth the momentary high (it might be).

Turning his head, he spares Jigen a peek from one of those gray peepers. A look of consideration. At least it isn't consternation; if anything, this is his element, isn't it.

(ripping at the seams until they pop out of the mold)

"I wouldn't exactly call this getting riled up. I just need this. And you do, too..."

He blows air across the spot he swiped with his tongue, then sinks his teeth into yielding flesh, surprisingly gentle. Surely it'll help him forget the throbbing pain in his stomach, right. Affection is good for that sort of thing.

(the idiot is beyond caring, huh)

The bitemark that Lupin leaves on Jigen's skin almost mirrors Lupin's trophy wound of the night, a centimeter of reddened skin made by a mouth that's as dangerous as any weapon. Jigen peels his shirt off while Lupin nips and teethes, careful not to jostle as he discards the mess of a garment onto the floor.

"What did I tell you last night about not messing with adults."

Sitting up with his partner effectively curled over his lap, he rubs the kid's jaw with the back of an index finger, draws a crooked joint up and along that smooth, defined curve. Act like a cat, get treated like one.

"Painkillers would do you a hell of a lot more good right now."

A gentle, gruff offer to go get some, even if he has a feeling he knows what the answer is going to be.

"And what did I tell you about assuming I'm a kid-- you're just going around in circles, old man. How unhealthy."

As snarky as the words out of his mouth, his eyes light up the instant Jigen moves to take his shirt off and comply with Lupin's wish. Oooh this is kinda nice. Hmm, and the rub down isn't too bad either, even if he wants more, more, more. He definitely doesn't purr, but the noise that slips from his mouth is absolutely pleased.

Scooting down slightly on his side to wedge himself comfortably, half on Jigen's lap and half between his legs, he drags the flat of his tongue lower, lower, between the surprisingly soft skin, teeth edging from his lip to score it as his (for now).

"Mmmnah, that's alright. I like this much better, and you will too."

"Hey. Hey, wait a goddamn minute—"

The hand previously occupied with lovingly giving kitty-scritches to Lupin's sideburns stops, turns over and rests itself under the kid's chin to tilt it up.

(He's absolutely used to handling his Lupin like a big, overly affectionate feline.)

"You've gotta be kidding."

Here? Now? With these walls???

Lupin's expression is more or less goddamn lupine-- a cat in wolf's clothing. The corners of his lips twist high, baring a row of teeth that, with a tilt of his chin down, Jigen's fingers still on him, press against his stomach once more.

The warmth there is exquisite, better knowing how much more is within Jigen, to touch and taste. His eyes are dark, darkened with lust and want.

"You should know I'm not kidding. Not at all. Not even a little bit."

To prove it, his fingers go for his buckle, unfastening it in seconds. His palm lies flat against Jigen's groin. He doesn't take those eyes off his face.

There it is again, those eyes. It's not as if his Lupin doesn't also bask in the satisfaction of seeing, but it's also been years and years of it happening that there'd come a time when Jigen, prideful as he is, knew when to give up.

This Lupin isn't exactly a stranger, in the strictest sense, but. Well.

The pressure on his crotch prompts a forearm to draw up and cover his eyes, flattening his thick bangs against his face.

"You've got a hole in your stomach and you still want to do this? You're beyond saving."

The hand still tucked under Lupin's chin gives an admonishing tap, once, twice. Now Jigen's just being patronizing.

"Maybe I can't stand to be saved this time. Maybe all I want to do is fall."

Dramatics, thy name is Arsene Lupin the Third. Jaws snap at rough fingers, never snagging the flesh, but they do score the pads of his not-partner's fingers. Lupin suppresses the curl of indignation that bubbles in his gut-- he'll show Jigen. He'll show him.

Kneading the heel of his palm against Jigen's dick through the fabric, he curls around him, back curved, to snag his teeth in one hip. Lips mold over the raised skin, of scars of old, ones he'd never seen...wouldn't be able to be there for for quite some time. He soothes over the bites with his tongue, sucking gently on each mark.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject