He abandons the texting without responding, though, and wanders into the gallery not long after. He looks like he might have been crying some distant time ago, but now he's flushed and warm with alcohol and hazy as he pads in, a little wobbly but no worse for wear. ]
[ Rip's sat on one of the chairs at the table-- his trenchcoat and his jacket are gone, leaving him in just the shirt and the trousers, and he watches his... husband, of sorts, wander in with eyes more piercing than they should be.
Scrutinising.
From his slightly hunched position, he straightens, head cocking downward a touch as he beckons him forward with his fingers. ]
Here. [ Legs spreading somewhat, Rip pats his thighs. ] Sit.
[ Although, Carter's weight solid on him, Rip thinks the whole thing perhaps is rather silly in a general sense. He places hands on his cheeks, traces one down to his shoulder and to his side, and then wraps an arm around him as the other guides him to tuck his head against Rip's own shoulder in turn.
He's... hugging him, technically. It's not sex, not really, but he breathes the poor omega in and thinks about how miserable he must be without his literal other half (soulmates-- who thought that shite was real?). ]
[ But he sounds quieter now, close like this, with his eyes shut as Rip touches him. The natural sweet is tainted with loss and loneliness and the sharpness of alcohol, but he lets his head be guided down and closes his eyes as he noses into Rip's shoulder. ]
... Yeah.
[ Carter mixes up sex and affection, sometimes; it's a thin line, and he seeks it out to feel loved and wanted. He doesn't think anyone has turned him down just to hug him before, and it's... nice, actually.
He doesn't cry, exactly, but he curls his fingers into Rip's shirt and focuses on breathing instead, tension slowly easing out of broad shoulders. ]
[ This is good, then. Rip thinks it's good. Carter has settled against him, and he is heavy (but the man's an immortal hawk warrior-- he shouldn't be surprised at all), but he can make this easy sacrifice without worry. Carter's lost far more, he imagines; he doesn't know what it's like to lose a real soulmate, but he does remember watching Miranda and Jonas die so much he'd stopped feeling horrified by seeing them gunned down.
Head turning, his lips brush Carter's hair. Rip's tone's softer, his voice a register lower. ] What made you drink so much? [ As if he doesn't do the same, often. As if his own problem isn't as bad, if not worse. ]
[ He inhales as Rip kisses his head, but it's shaky. 206 - no, 207 now, isn't it? 207 deaths. Some of these lifetimes are longer than others, and all of them are tragic. ]
Sad. Lonely, I guess. I think a lot. [ How can he not? He huffs a laugh, bitter. ] She didn't even want me, really, you know. This makes... 207 times.
[ Rip exhales slowly. Two hundred and seven. Are Carter and Kendra's incarnations programmed to remember how many times exactly? (It'd be worse if they weren't.) ]
She didn't remember who she was yet. [ And now you're married to me. The thought of saying yes out of guilt for Carter's grief had made little sense then, but he hadn't thought it to be particularly harmful, either.
Now he wonders. Two hundred seven times. ]
When we kill Savage, you and Ms. Saunders-- or whoever you two become in your next lives-- will be able to grow old together, you know. Finally.
And we will. I know we will.
[ He doesn't. The Legends are a last ditch effort, because Rip stopped believing in himself ages ago.
I know. [ Carter huffs a tiny laugh. ] She thought I was a douche.
[ He tucks his head more comfortably into Rip's neck, nose against his pulse. ] I wonder if that'll end the cycle. If we finally get to live out our lives... I guess we'll find out, huh. Next life.
[ There's something strange and awful and matter of fact about how he says it, the knowledge he might lose her a 208th time. ]
[ He makes a noise, soft and... content, almost. ] We sure will. I'm so fucking ready, okay? I know our friends are kind of screwing around but I can't wait to kill this guy and get your family back. I'm here to end this.
[ And that's how Rip knows the marriage wasn't anything serious. Carter isn't over his soulmate, believes that Rip's going to get his family back-- this is, in the end, just a strange coping mechanism, and for that reason he decides it isn't too bad a charade to continue. ]
Thank you, Mr. Ha-- Carter. [ Is he correcting his last name or referring to him by his first? Rip settles a bit more into his seat, slouching, and takes Carter down with him. ]
[ Rip isn't good at jokes, but Carter laughs, anyway, a proper one that shakes his shoulders and were he not so comfortable, he would've tipped his head back, grinning and full and easy.
As it is, he settles, grinning into Rip's shoulder. ] Well. Thanks. You definitely needed one more idiot with more determination than sense, huh? [ He loves their friends, but he also knows they're... well.
A moment later, still amused:] I can't believe you let me marry you. That's ridiculous.
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so yea I did
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Why don't you sober up first and I'll ask again?
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It counts.
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I appreciate that.
Come here. To the galley.
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He abandons the texting without responding, though, and wanders into the gallery not long after. He looks like he might have been crying some distant time ago, but now he's flushed and warm with alcohol and hazy as he pads in, a little wobbly but no worse for wear. ]
Sup?
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Scrutinising.
From his slightly hunched position, he straightens, head cocking downward a touch as he beckons him forward with his fingers. ]
Here. [ Legs spreading somewhat, Rip pats his thighs. ] Sit.
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He ambles over and hesitates, suddenly very aware of how big he is and how small he feels. ]
... in your lap?
[ But he does as he's told, anyway, and sits, clumsy but mindful of his size. ]
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[ Although, Carter's weight solid on him, Rip thinks the whole thing perhaps is rather silly in a general sense. He places hands on his cheeks, traces one down to his shoulder and to his side, and then wraps an arm around him as the other guides him to tuck his head against Rip's own shoulder in turn.
He's... hugging him, technically. It's not sex, not really, but he breathes the poor omega in and thinks about how miserable he must be without his literal other half (soulmates-- who thought that shite was real?). ]
Is this all right?
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[ But he sounds quieter now, close like this, with his eyes shut as Rip touches him. The natural sweet is tainted with loss and loneliness and the sharpness of alcohol, but he lets his head be guided down and closes his eyes as he noses into Rip's shoulder. ]
... Yeah.
[ Carter mixes up sex and affection, sometimes; it's a thin line, and he seeks it out to feel loved and wanted. He doesn't think anyone has turned him down just to hug him before, and it's... nice, actually.
He doesn't cry, exactly, but he curls his fingers into Rip's shirt and focuses on breathing instead, tension slowly easing out of broad shoulders. ]
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Head turning, his lips brush Carter's hair. Rip's tone's softer, his voice a register lower. ] What made you drink so much? [ As if he doesn't do the same, often. As if his own problem isn't as bad, if not worse. ]
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Sad. Lonely, I guess. I think a lot. [ How can he not? He huffs a laugh, bitter. ] She didn't even want me, really, you know. This makes... 207 times.
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She didn't remember who she was yet. [ And now you're married to me. The thought of saying yes out of guilt for Carter's grief had made little sense then, but he hadn't thought it to be particularly harmful, either.
Now he wonders. Two hundred seven times. ]
When we kill Savage, you and Ms. Saunders-- or whoever you two become in your next lives-- will be able to grow old together, you know. Finally.
And we will. I know we will.
[ He doesn't. The Legends are a last ditch effort, because Rip stopped believing in himself ages ago.
But it sounds like the right thing to say. ]
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[ He tucks his head more comfortably into Rip's neck, nose against his pulse. ] I wonder if that'll end the cycle. If we finally get to live out our lives... I guess we'll find out, huh. Next life.
[ There's something strange and awful and matter of fact about how he says it, the knowledge he might lose her a 208th time. ]
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[ Rip's fingers drift down the curve of Carter's skull, down to stroke his back and soothe him. The other arm stays firm around his body, careful. ]
We'll stop him. I promise you.
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[ He makes a noise, soft and... content, almost. ] We sure will. I'm so fucking ready, okay? I know our friends are kind of screwing around but I can't wait to kill this guy and get your family back. I'm here to end this.
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Thank you, Mr. Ha-- Carter. [ Is he correcting his last name or referring to him by his first? Rip settles a bit more into his seat, slouching, and takes Carter down with him. ]
I wouldn't be able to do this without you.
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[ He sounds like this is a novel sort of idea, that he's useful, and he re-settles when Rip slouches, heavy against his chest. ] What do you mean?
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[ Rip isn't good at jokes. He clears his throat. ]
...you called them your friends, said you'd fight with such conviction. You've a heart that I don't, and a determination that I don't.
That's something every team needs.
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As it is, he settles, grinning into Rip's shoulder. ] Well. Thanks. You definitely needed one more idiot with more determination than sense, huh? [ He loves their friends, but he also knows they're... well.
A moment later, still amused:] I can't believe you let me marry you. That's ridiculous.
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