( ten minutes in which julian spends--pressing his hands against the wall, curling his fingers in, digging nails into his palms before flexing fingers back out and repeating the whole thing all over again.
the pressure is weird. the sensation of skin against skin and skin against--everything else is weird. hell, he didn't--think he'd adjusted to it that much? had assumed that getting his hands back would be amazing, that he'd fit right back into it.
but getting his hands back isn't like riding a bike. it's like--reusing an old method of solving a math problem when you've already figured out an easier, more simple way of solving the problem but the teach says you have to "show your work" in the old, harder way so you do it anyway.
by the time josh comes back, he's got a water bottle in the old prosthetic hand and it's raised up to his mouth, arms down at his sides. he offers over his fleshy hands easy enough, even gives a soft sigh of relief at the feeling of josh's skin against his own. )
There's a reason it takes so long for babies to figure 'em out. Hands are complicated.
[ he's gentle as he wraps them, letting his healing powers wash over them to try to ease some of the sensory overload as he puts a barrier between all that fresh new skin and the world outside. ]
( are you comparing him to a baby, josh. the pressure is--nicer. less room for surprises. julian drops the water bottle off to the side, raises his right hand up to shove fingers through his hair.
[ god, OW. he squirms and sits up, looking suitably tired and swats at julian's foot. ]
But everybody liked you.
[ 'liked' is a mild word. 'liked' doesn't really cover trying to copy his whole style, or compulsively showing off, or sneaking out of bed to go on reckless midnight adventures chasing ideas of heroism. he half-wonders if things hadn't blown up, if his past hadn't gotten out, if he'd have clung to julian the way he'd clung to rahne. stumbled through some awkward phase of hating himself for liking a dude, before maybe getting over it when all their friends started dying. the thought is both sobering and embarrassing.
not everybody liked julian. the one he let into his inner circle did. the rest - they respected him enough to listen. ]
( fine, fine. one of those nice metal hands reaches down to haul josh up to try and shove him towards the bed. if he's going to pass out, at least do it on bed. )
They respected me because they knew I knew what I was doing. Because I wasn't a mess who couldn't tell right from left half the time. Because I showed my team respect, and earned their trust right because of it.
[ alright alright, he's up. he'll flop onto the bed, blinking one blank eye over at julian.
he's not leadership material. he's not even good second in command material. they both know it. julian wouldn't be obligated to babysit him if it wasn't. ]
Yeah, I know. You could stand to learn to be a little nicer though.
( no, josh isn't leadership material. or right hand man material. he's--a good lackey, when he likes someone well enough. knows how to follow orders, not how to give them. which is fine for julian. he already had a second in command, he doesn't need another one. )
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the pressure is weird. the sensation of skin against skin and skin against--everything else is weird. hell, he didn't--think he'd adjusted to it that much? had assumed that getting his hands back would be amazing, that he'd fit right back into it.
but getting his hands back isn't like riding a bike. it's like--reusing an old method of solving a math problem when you've already figured out an easier, more simple way of solving the problem but the teach says you have to "show your work" in the old, harder way so you do it anyway.
by the time josh comes back, he's got a water bottle in the old prosthetic hand and it's raised up to his mouth, arms down at his sides. he offers over his fleshy hands easy enough, even gives a soft sigh of relief at the feeling of josh's skin against his own. )
Never realized having hands was so goddamn hard.
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[ he's gentle as he wraps them, letting his healing powers wash over them to try to ease some of the sensory overload as he puts a barrier between all that fresh new skin and the world outside. ]
Better?
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( are you comparing him to a baby, josh. the pressure is--nicer. less room for surprises. julian drops the water bottle off to the side, raises his right hand up to shove fingers through his hair.
can't grip, but the thought is there. )
Yeah.
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[ good. good. he sits down flat on his butt, shutting his eyes a moment. ]
Maybe I can rig up some equipment so we can do some basic physio.
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Yeah, so they're stupid. They don't know anything, therefore stupid.
And don't worry about it, I'll figure it out.
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[ he's not gonna get in an argument about baby intelligence and brain shit that's dumb, stop being dumb josh. ]
Look, man, this is like the one thing I can actually do for you here. Let me worry about it.
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( the hands he actually has, now. still weird. will be weird for at least the next several weeks. but. )
Like grab me snacks
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I make a lot of trouble for you too. Eventually you're gonna catch on that we're not doing equal work here and trade up.
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I'm the leader. You're doing your job: following orders. There's nothing else expected of you.
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he is, however, laughing. his arm folds over his face. ]
What are you, Cyclops?
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( fingers of his left hand curling into a fist, before he's raising it up to his forehead and dropping it back down. just testing it. )
I'm Hellion.
( he sounds pleased, at least. )
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[ and now we're in hell.
he mulls over the next words in his mind for a moment. ]
Who'd you start bullying when I skipped town?
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( maybe. maybe he does. )
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[ god he's so tired. ]
It means you liiiiike them.
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( just. going to kick at josh's side, a little. since he's on the ground and all. )
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'Started' is the key word there.
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( you know, as bros. until josh ruined it. )
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[ he's gonna get kicked for that, he tries to anticipate it. ]
I liked you too.
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Get up.
( first. second-- )
I know.
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But everybody liked you.
[ 'liked' is a mild word. 'liked' doesn't really cover trying to copy his whole style, or compulsively showing off, or sneaking out of bed to go on reckless midnight adventures chasing ideas of heroism. he half-wonders if things hadn't blown up, if his past hadn't gotten out, if he'd have clung to julian the way he'd clung to rahne. stumbled through some awkward phase of hating himself for liking a dude, before maybe getting over it when all their friends started dying. the thought is both sobering and embarrassing.
not everybody liked julian. the one he let into his inner circle did. the rest - they respected him enough to listen. ]
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( fine, fine. one of those nice metal hands reaches down to haul josh up to try and shove him towards the bed. if he's going to pass out, at least do it on bed. )
They respected me because they knew I knew what I was doing. Because I wasn't a mess who couldn't tell right from left half the time. Because I showed my team respect, and earned their trust right because of it.
It's part of being a leader.
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he's not leadership material. he's not even good second in command material. they both know it. julian wouldn't be obligated to babysit him if it wasn't. ]
Yeah, I know. You could stand to learn to be a little nicer though.
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Being nice never got anyone anything.
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People being nice makes the world less hard to live in.
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( mr traumatized who gets taken advantage of a lot. )
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