Edward took a sip of his coke and watched Jonathan, raising his eyebrows at that offer. Or request. Order? Honestly, the minimalist way of speaking left a lot up for interpretation and he kind of enjoyed that ambiguity. "Hm. My momma's always warned me against going home with my stalkers."
His lips twitched into a smile and he tilted his head to the side. "But then, she's married to an absolute cretin, so what does she know? Clearly not a good judge of character."
Edward considered himself to be an excellent judge of character. That was why he knew he shouldn't go anywhere with Jonathan. He also knew his own character fairly well, however, so he already knew he would come with him.
"A s-stalker is more dedicated. Observer." Jonathan corrected as he admired Edward's caution. Better survival skills than he expected but he could see the temptation and the inevitable acceptance that would come. "I have drink, weed, b-books."
So what else could Edward possibly need? He smiled, unable to help himself. It seemed weird and not really possible that Edward could and would come home with him but he was and ... it was exciting. He had no idea why but it truly was.
"He thrusts his fists against the posts." Jonathan said to himself and didn't even notice that he didn't stutter once as he said it. He was too focused on Edward.
The stutter was definitely less obvious right now. Maybe it was because he had food, maybe that forced him to actually relax his jaw and mouth enough. Maybe it was him. Edward took note, as he always did, and decided to see it as flattery, as he often did as well. "My observer then. I'm sure mom couldn't possibly object to that. Much more dignified."
He drank from his coke and also took note of how quickly Jonathan was decimating that chicken. He'd not have much time to make up his mind. Inevitable. "I'll come with you. What's the worst that could happen?"
Edward was fortunate that only he lived in his place and that his father wasn't there or it would get very bad. It always did. Jonathan lured them home, it was his job since he was 8. The experiments were more important than anything else. It dominated their entire world. Edward would have been perfect for his father, he would have broken him easily.
He was glad he didn't ever get to. Edward was his. Or, at least, in a small way - in his dreams - he was.
Jonathan finished his chicken in record time and wiped his hands on a napkin, tossing it into the trash. "It's nothing sinister. Relax. It's just better than the rain."
"Nothing sinister? At all? Shame." Edward wondered where Jonathan's mind went when he fell silent the way he had as he finished the chicken. Such intensity on his face. What was going on inside his head? He could have made an educated guess, but he could not know for sure. Jonathan was not the easiest to read. "But sure, I'll relax. Anything is better than a drizzly Narrows back-alley."
Not that he'd have elected to sleep in one of those. Jonathan offering his place was still an excellent alternative. "I know you bought me a drink, Jonny, so, just for the record? I need at least three before I put out."
"I have b-booze at home." Jonathan smirked for a moment before he got up decisively and waited for Edward to do the same. He stepped out of the chicken shop and the rain was even harder now. God, Gotham was fucking awful. If he had a better truck, he couldn't have made it to somewhere a bit nicer but he supposed this shitty mob city was at least entertaining.
And he had Edward, of course.
"He thrusts his fists against the p-posts and s-s-still insists he s-sees the g--ghosts." Jonathan mumbled to himself, surprised it was flowing better now. Maybe Edward touching his face had strangely achieved something. "I didn't always s-s-stutter." Jon told Edward, out of the blue. He didn't know why but he said it. He just didn't want Edward to think he was incurable.
"Sometimes onset by traumatic circumstances, isn't it?" So, yes, he had no issue with showing that he had done his research. He walked next to Jonathan, arms loosely wrapped around himself and the rain making his hair wet enough to simply cling to his face. A typical Gotham night, no doubt. "I didn't always--"
He frowned, rethought the statement and then rephrased it. "I used to be an ugly little nerd."
Sometimes he still felt that. Perhaps not that ugly, but certainly charmless. At least he remembered experiencing it. Not that long ago that he'd discovered he had charm and that he'd put effort into learning how to use it.
"You could never be ugly." Jonathan stated like it was pure fact, with no stutter or stammer at all. It just didn't click in his head. Perhaps not as handsome as he styled himself now but no way could Edward have been like him. Ugly and repellent. "Ch-Changes are not always a bad th-thing."
He wondered if he could ever have an experience like Edward and find himself suddenly being more attractive or have better posture, maybe suddenly all that social stuff clicking. Maybe one day he could be normal. But did he want to be? He wasn't sure. It seemed like a lot of energy.
"You're reading about s-stutters. Uns-s-surp--" Fuck. "Of course."
"I'm not trying to surprise you. I could if I wanted to." Perhaps he would later. Edward was beginning to have a pretty decent idea of how Jonathan could be surprised. "You are a puzzle, so I'm figuring you out."
It was a rewarding thing to do. "People are all like puzzles, but most have fewer pieces than you. Ugliness is relative, by the way. Beauty is subjective. But, trust me, by and large there wasn't a single person seeing my hidden beauty before I hit my growth spurt."
It hadn't mattered much to him then. "It wasn't a big deal, I didn't care about how I looked." He looked at Jonathan from the side, a smirk on his face. "That was before I realised how much I'd love having sex."
Jon sometimes loved that because of his stutter, he could just stop talking and no one could really question why. Well, they could but he could always say it was the stutter. That meant he could silently contemplate Edward having sex as he headed through the alleyway to his apartment. He assumed Edward got a growth spurt and got laid within the first week. A boy like that, seeking validation. It made total sense.
"I'm here." Jonathan gestured at the shithole he lived in. "Forth floor. We walk."
Did Edward still have a lot of sex? Probably. It was likely a good way for him to get positive attention... then again, there wasn't a big dating pool in a high school. Was there? He didn't like the idea of Edward fucking his way through school.
"I kind of like it. The way you talk. Obviously I understand what necessitates your approach, but it's snappy." He snapped his fingers to underline his statement, entertaining himself, if nothing else. Always a prime objective. "Authoritative. I always feel like you're ordering me around. I'm not saying there's not a part of me that wants to rebel, but it also gets me all tingly inside."
He mused out loud, taking Jonathan's reluctance to speak much as all the more reason to keep talking. "You couple that with all the 'boy' and 'son' and you'll have me on my knees calling you daddy without hesitation, if you know what I mean." Probably not. Made it all the more fun.
He walked up the stairs a little behind Jonathan, not minding the workout. Good for the posterior.
"Too easy." Jonathan knew Edward was a flirt, it didn't translate to actual affection and interest but he did like the tease. He had some good fodder for his next shower. His mind had a habit of just going elsewhere. "Keep moving, s-s-son."
The staircase reeked of smoke and mould, the usual Narrows smell, and he moved swiftly up the stairs to avoid running into any of his neighbours. He had a goal and he didn't need distractions or disruptions.
He pulled out his keys and unlocked his room, pushing it open for Edward to come in ahead of him. And then he realised, strangely, that he was letting Edward into his apartment and it was messy and unpleasant. It was dark, it smelled of bleach and weed and their were books on every surface. Where would Edward sit? Would he be repelled and leave? Once Edward inside, he locked the door and moved to turn on some lamps. "I j-j-just moved."
"Riddle me this, Jonny. Is anything too easy as long as it's worth having?" Edward felt that he was well worth any amount of effort it took to get him, even if said effort was none whatsoever.
Edward stepped into the place and looked around, not really surprised by what he saw. Smelled basically like Jonathan, like an underground library where someone smoked weed and cooked meth. Seemed about right. He inspected it with interest anyway, mostly focusing on the books. "So I gather."
He didn't wait for any invite, he started organising the books into more logical piles and freeing up surface space without any hesitation, as if he had every right to do so. "Living alone. I envy that."
"It has advantages." Jonathan agreed as he started to move some stuff off his armchair and then walked across to his kitchen. There stood his different bottles for different occasions and he felt like today was a shitty whiskey day, not a shitty spirits day. He grabbed the bottle and walked back over, setting it down on the coffee table. "I lost my f-f-family. S-Six months."
He looked at the coffee table and saw his father's journal was still open and beside it was his own sketches and formulas. He grabbed both and swiftly set them on the floor by his armchair.
"My m-mother was ... eight years ago. F-Father th-this y--year." His stutter was getting worse again, the subject of family seemed to knock him back a step. "D-Drink?"
"I'm sorry. You've got my condolences." And that journal and the glimpse he had gotten of some sketches and what looked like formulas had his attention now. He hadn't noticed them in time, but how quickly Jonathan moved them aside naturally awakened his curiosity. Well. His curiosity was always wide awake, so perhaps it would be more accurate to say that it was giving his curiosity a target.
He tried to be subtle about it though, simply nodding his head. "Sure, I'll have a drink. Then we are up to two." Really getting close to him feeling obliged to put out. "You are quite the host, Jonny."
"I don't have g-glasses." Jonathan admitted as he slid the bottle over to Edward and then leaned back in his chair, looking around the room and wondering if he could have cleaned it up a bit or maybe installed overhead lighting. Perhaps removed the mould. He just didn't know. He looked at Edward and studied his reactions, not missing how his eyes kept darting to the side of his chair.
"My f-father was a sc-sc-scientist." Jonathan clarified for him because he found Edward interest quite entertaining. "Psychology." He gestured in the direct of Edward. "It's sh-shit whiskey but it ain't expensive."
"Your father must have been an intelligent man." He did envy that. Educated. To grow up this close to someone with actual knowledge instead of the deprivation he felt, that seemed like a gift. Edward took the bottle and then sat down on the sofa that he'd freed up. He took a sip, clearly not put out by the taste. Cheap whiskey would still do the trick.
"Is that your area of interest? The study of the human mind." It was intriguing, he couldn't deny that. "I noticed a few patterns with your book collection."
"I am interested, yes. The human mind is fascinating." Jonathan admitted as he looked around at his books, amused at how clever Edward was. Seeing patterns and making his deductions. It was very cute. "I'm interested in the limitations of the mind. The point where things start shutting down. F-Fear."
Jonathan cocked his head to the side as he considered his favourite subject areas. "My f-father believed that fear could be cured." He looked at Edward, curious. "I think he's an idiot."
"I suppose it depends. Lack of fear can be a sign of ignorance of consequences or denote a lack of caring about said consequences. I don't know if either of those would really be a desirable outcome. Even hypothetically, a complete absence of fear would not be an improvement." Edward had never really thought about it much, but it was still easy enough to arrive at that conclusion. He had thought about fear. Had certainly been frustrated at his own fears.
"Would you want to cure fear? Or do you think that's what made your father an idiot?"
"Curing fear is idiotic. It's an evolutionary advantage. For s-survival. To keep you grounded." Jonathan loved that feeling of fear. He used to hate it but now he craved it and struggled to find it, he missed being ruled by his terror because now, it was all so empty and lacking. At least Edward was a good distraction. "That's why I'm s-so bored."
Nothing was exciting any more. No one made him afraid, no one got to him. He had lived with his father, who could compare? Idiot man, brilliant man. He had no idea. "But I can see it in others. Like you. And that's enough. A contact high."
"I see. Here I thought you just liked that I wear tight jeans." Edward took another sip from the bottle and then he got up, because as much as he might be fear driven in many aspects of his life, he was also bold. Bold, shameless and with rather a lot of affinity for risk-taking.
He walked over to Jonathan and sat down on one of the arms of the armchair, leaning down to pick up the journal. Not asking for permission, simply picking it up and opening it. He held it open and his free hand ran through Jonathan's hair, because his head was right there. "No more fear, huh? Nothing to make poor Jonny's heart thunder away in his chest."
He loved that about Edward. He was daring, shameless and he did whatever he wanted. There was more to Edward than fear, there was charm and a desire to be loved, to be wanted and touched. He craved touch as much as he liked to touch. Hence why he was touching Jon's hair. Jon cursed to himself, he probably should have washed it or something. He definitely needed a haircut.
"A man can like two things." Jon pointed out as he watched Edward hold his journal. His father's journal. It made his heart race and he didn't quite know why. He leaned his head to the side so he could see what page he was reading. "...Highly anxious individuals manifest increased s-sensitivity to psy-psychological th-threat that translates into enhanced autonomic reactivity and s-superior detection of internal bodily sensations, notably heartbeats."
Jonathan knew the pages almost by heart at this point. "In th-this experiment, I explored cardiac-timing effects on f-fear perception and fear judgment."
With a small laugh, Jonathan looked up at Edward. "That one was th-th-thrilling."
"So I see. That's... intricate." Edward was a speedy reader, of course he was, and he tried to absorb the information quickly, while he tugged lightly on a few strands of Jonathan's hair. Lovely texture, admittedly, even if it could use a good wash. "Your father was certainly original. He's really thought out that psychological abuse."
Fascinating. His own father had about the depth of a dried out puddle, so it was interesting to get an insight into someone who differed so much from that. "You're a fascinating person, Jonathan Crane."
"It's not abuse, not to him. It's love." Jonathan thought it was funny, personally. He smiled at Edward, wondering how much his mind was pulling together and what thoughts he was forming. Jonathan leaned his head back, enjoying those fingers in his hair and wondering what his limits were here. Three drinks. They'd only had two.
Yet here was Edward, looking like that. Split lip, dark eyes, that same lovely scent he had. "I'm not afraid of much anymore. I just have a few s-s-side effects." Reaching out, he placed his hand on Edward's thigh and squeezed it in warning. "I would like my journal back now, son."
"Right. You always get handsy when you want something badly enough?" Edward raised his eyebrows and smiled playfully, while he moved his thumb to leaf through the pages, his eyes trained on them the whole time. Not enough time to process any of the information right now, but he rather prided himself on an almost photographic memory. He closed the journal with a little flourish and then handed it over to Jonathan, leaning down to kiss his cheek. "There you go, daddy. Told you, I'm a sucker for that commanding tone."
He got up, scanning the room again as he walked over to where he'd sat before and draping himself over the sofa again, absently licking his injured lip. "So. Love hurts? Is that the conclusion?"
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icebergloungers2024-05-02 05:52 pm
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His lips twitched into a smile and he tilted his head to the side. "But then, she's married to an absolute cretin, so what does she know? Clearly not a good judge of character."
Edward considered himself to be an excellent judge of character. That was why he knew he shouldn't go anywhere with Jonathan. He also knew his own character fairly well, however, so he already knew he would come with him.
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So what else could Edward possibly need? He smiled, unable to help himself. It seemed weird and not really possible that Edward could and would come home with him but he was and ... it was exciting. He had no idea why but it truly was.
"He thrusts his fists against the posts." Jonathan said to himself and didn't even notice that he didn't stutter once as he said it. He was too focused on Edward.
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He drank from his coke and also took note of how quickly Jonathan was decimating that chicken. He'd not have much time to make up his mind. Inevitable. "I'll come with you. What's the worst that could happen?"
He wondered.
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He was glad he didn't ever get to. Edward was his. Or, at least, in a small way - in his dreams - he was.
Jonathan finished his chicken in record time and wiped his hands on a napkin, tossing it into the trash. "It's nothing sinister. Relax. It's just better than the rain."
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Not that he'd have elected to sleep in one of those. Jonathan offering his place was still an excellent alternative. "I know you bought me a drink, Jonny, so, just for the record? I need at least three before I put out."
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And he had Edward, of course.
"He thrusts his fists against the p-posts and s-s-still insists he s-sees the g--ghosts." Jonathan mumbled to himself, surprised it was flowing better now. Maybe Edward touching his face had strangely achieved something. "I didn't always s-s-stutter." Jon told Edward, out of the blue. He didn't know why but he said it. He just didn't want Edward to think he was incurable.
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He frowned, rethought the statement and then rephrased it. "I used to be an ugly little nerd."
Sometimes he still felt that. Perhaps not that ugly, but certainly charmless. At least he remembered experiencing it. Not that long ago that he'd discovered he had charm and that he'd put effort into learning how to use it.
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He wondered if he could ever have an experience like Edward and find himself suddenly being more attractive or have better posture, maybe suddenly all that social stuff clicking. Maybe one day he could be normal. But did he want to be? He wasn't sure. It seemed like a lot of energy.
"You're reading about s-stutters. Uns-s-surp--" Fuck. "Of course."
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It was a rewarding thing to do. "People are all like puzzles, but most have fewer pieces than you. Ugliness is relative, by the way. Beauty is subjective. But, trust me, by and large there wasn't a single person seeing my hidden beauty before I hit my growth spurt."
It hadn't mattered much to him then. "It wasn't a big deal, I didn't care about how I looked." He looked at Jonathan from the side, a smirk on his face. "That was before I realised how much I'd love having sex."
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"I'm here." Jonathan gestured at the shithole he lived in. "Forth floor. We walk."
Did Edward still have a lot of sex? Probably. It was likely a good way for him to get positive attention... then again, there wasn't a big dating pool in a high school. Was there? He didn't like the idea of Edward fucking his way through school.
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He mused out loud, taking Jonathan's reluctance to speak much as all the more reason to keep talking. "You couple that with all the 'boy' and 'son' and you'll have me on my knees calling you daddy without hesitation, if you know what I mean." Probably not. Made it all the more fun.
He walked up the stairs a little behind Jonathan, not minding the workout. Good for the posterior.
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The staircase reeked of smoke and mould, the usual Narrows smell, and he moved swiftly up the stairs to avoid running into any of his neighbours. He had a goal and he didn't need distractions or disruptions.
He pulled out his keys and unlocked his room, pushing it open for Edward to come in ahead of him. And then he realised, strangely, that he was letting Edward into his apartment and it was messy and unpleasant. It was dark, it smelled of bleach and weed and their were books on every surface. Where would Edward sit? Would he be repelled and leave? Once Edward inside, he locked the door and moved to turn on some lamps. "I j-j-just moved."
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Edward stepped into the place and looked around, not really surprised by what he saw. Smelled basically like Jonathan, like an underground library where someone smoked weed and cooked meth. Seemed about right. He inspected it with interest anyway, mostly focusing on the books. "So I gather."
He didn't wait for any invite, he started organising the books into more logical piles and freeing up surface space without any hesitation, as if he had every right to do so. "Living alone. I envy that."
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He looked at the coffee table and saw his father's journal was still open and beside it was his own sketches and formulas. He grabbed both and swiftly set them on the floor by his armchair.
"My m-mother was ... eight years ago. F-Father th-this y--year." His stutter was getting worse again, the subject of family seemed to knock him back a step. "D-Drink?"
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He tried to be subtle about it though, simply nodding his head. "Sure, I'll have a drink. Then we are up to two." Really getting close to him feeling obliged to put out. "You are quite the host, Jonny."
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"My f-father was a sc-sc-scientist." Jonathan clarified for him because he found Edward interest quite entertaining. "Psychology." He gestured in the direct of Edward. "It's sh-shit whiskey but it ain't expensive."
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"Is that your area of interest? The study of the human mind." It was intriguing, he couldn't deny that. "I noticed a few patterns with your book collection."
Horror, psychology, philosophy.
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Jonathan cocked his head to the side as he considered his favourite subject areas. "My f-father believed that fear could be cured." He looked at Edward, curious. "I think he's an idiot."
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"Would you want to cure fear? Or do you think that's what made your father an idiot?"
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Nothing was exciting any more. No one made him afraid, no one got to him. He had lived with his father, who could compare? Idiot man, brilliant man. He had no idea. "But I can see it in others. Like you. And that's enough. A contact high."
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He walked over to Jonathan and sat down on one of the arms of the armchair, leaning down to pick up the journal. Not asking for permission, simply picking it up and opening it. He held it open and his free hand ran through Jonathan's hair, because his head was right there. "No more fear, huh? Nothing to make poor Jonny's heart thunder away in his chest."
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"A man can like two things." Jon pointed out as he watched Edward hold his journal. His father's journal. It made his heart race and he didn't quite know why. He leaned his head to the side so he could see what page he was reading. "...Highly anxious individuals manifest increased s-sensitivity to psy-psychological th-threat that translates into enhanced autonomic reactivity and s-superior detection of internal bodily sensations, notably heartbeats."
Jonathan knew the pages almost by heart at this point. "In th-this experiment, I explored cardiac-timing effects on f-fear perception and fear judgment."
With a small laugh, Jonathan looked up at Edward. "That one was th-th-thrilling."
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Fascinating. His own father had about the depth of a dried out puddle, so it was interesting to get an insight into someone who differed so much from that. "You're a fascinating person, Jonathan Crane."
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Yet here was Edward, looking like that. Split lip, dark eyes, that same lovely scent he had. "I'm not afraid of much anymore. I just have a few s-s-side effects." Reaching out, he placed his hand on Edward's thigh and squeezed it in warning. "I would like my journal back now, son."
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He got up, scanning the room again as he walked over to where he'd sat before and draping himself over the sofa again, absently licking his injured lip. "So. Love hurts? Is that the conclusion?"
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