savetheearth | I Guess That I Just Thought Maybe We Could Find New Ways to Fall Apart [Friday, January 23]

Entry tags:

I Guess That I Just Thought Maybe We Could Find New Ways to Fall Apart [Friday, January 23]

Who: Lazarus Lawliet and Cesar Sanchez-Ortiz
What: Lazarus and Cesar go out drinking and then back to Cesar's place to watch Star Battles, which Lazarus has never seen.
Where: Cesar's place
When: Backdated to January 23, Friday
Warnings: Slightly drunk people, highly suggestive content

The last time they'd been out drinking, it had gone surprisingly well, even despite the strange and stressful lead-up. It wasn't every night that detective work required breaking into a house just to confirm what a cursory glance at the extermination van in the driveway would have revealed, and there were few strains of embarrassment that could quite compare... but Lazarus had suggested drinking at a dive bar, Cesar hadn't turned him down, and the evening had taken a better turn, considering.

They both liked science, and had found way too many things to say about it over shots and copper mugs of vodka and ginger beer. Though they'd seemed an odd pair, when they let their guards down around each other, it turned out that Lazarus and Cesar actually had a fair deal in common, to the point where Cesar had been open to doing it again at a later point... minus breaking into his coulrodendrobibliophiliac neighbor's house, of course.

Lazarus had found himself looking forward to the event, even regretting that he'd suggested two weeks instead of one. In that time, he found himself sending Cesar a few links to articles in science journals that had piqued his interest, realizing that it ultimately gave them more things to talk about, and by the time Friday the 23rd did come around, he arrived at the same dive bar slightly early, ordered the first round of drinks, and from there, got happy-drunk while discussing topics they'd apparently only grazed while drinking a couple of weeks prior. They even managed to get to those articles; a few drinks in, Cesar had brought up "Star Battles" again, a film that he recommended to Lazarus weeks ago. What started as a joke turned into a serious (if tipsy) suggestion for the remainder of the evening, and they'd settled up their tab, grabbed their coats, and gotten a cab back to Cesar's apartment.

Now, Lazarus leans against the wall as Cesar fishes for his keys outside his apartment. "Admit it, Robert Bakker was onto something in The Dinosaur Heresies. I favor T-Rex as a predator, not a scavenger."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

'Sweet'? He's been a younger brother, before. He knows what it is to snatch something back up as soon as someone else is out of range, and maturity in letting things go is not something he's charitable enough to expect.

L laughs, and Cesar breaths out through his nose, giving a wan, halfhearted twitch of a grin. It'd seemed like a good idea at the time, hadn't it? Something to relax with, make everything easier as he spent an evening explaining Star Battles to someone like Lazarus? Well, 'explaining' certainly wound up not being a problem. What specifically does he remember?

He slices one hand with the other. {Some.} Thinking. A crude gesture that is unmistakeable, accompanied by a fleeting, unwillingly pleased grin. (Those were some memories.) A pause, and very slight headtilt.

{Everything important.}

Edited 2015-02-04 08:43 (UTC)

In his heart of hearts, L probably understands that he is the type to make people want to drink more, if only to make his presence slightly more tolerable. And that's admittedly difficult, even after years of having essentially the same difficult personality. He can be endearing once a person has gotten past the initial abrasiveness... but the curiosity never goes away or lessens until it's been sated. This curiosity had been a boon during school, and had plunged him into a world of trouble the first time he'd been offered cocaine; it was a mixed-bag regarding his detective work, because on occasion, he is set up to pry into things that are bigger than he is and that can swallow him whole.

He's clever and curious and all kinds of determined... but his weaknesses are also extreme, and for those who are looking, there are cracks everywhere, easy ways to destroy him. One such crack is the fleeting but genuine grin at Cesar's gesture, surprise and delight apparent before he clears his throat and focuses his attention back on the coffee.

He can't even pretend to be unwilling or reluctant about it. It is a hell of a weakness.

Lining up two coffee mugs, he starts to pour, glancing up at Cesar again. "Well, you... know that I take cream, but what about you?"

Edited 2015-02-04 17:52 (UTC)

He hesitates, before signing, {cream, sugar,} followed by putting two fingers a very small distance apart. He'd take it straight up black, if he thought he needed it, but he's hesitantly hoping that this morning will be less harrowing than the past ten minutes were.

He didn't miss the delighted smile, or how clearly L is trying to be a helpful guest. It's a little much, especially at this hour (morning? noon?) and this hungover, but the thought has to count for something, right? It does. At the very least they can make some kind of friendship work, and if there's anything else--they can see how that develops in an organic way, can't they? Their last night wasn't so bad. ... Okay, the last night was unexpected and completely wild, but it was fun, and not in any way forced.

Maybe they can do more things like that? Just--naturally?

L amiably goes for the cream and sugar, locating both with relative ease. He doesn't seem to have any idea of how high-strung Cesar's been, and actually looks relaxed and happy as he goes about the simple tasks. He even makes some chit-chat as he does so.

"You know, a year ago, from... last January, I think? That was when Ray hired me to work at Espresso Yourself. It was my first real job and I couldn't even lift a full pitcher of milk without dropping it, so that's where the brace came in and everything. I guess you don't really realize how much you take certain things for granted until you don't have them anymore, which is why I jump at the chance to do pretty much anything with my hands now. It seems kind of silly to most people, but..." he glances back Cesar's way with a vaguely sad smile as he opens the silverware drawer. "I guess you would understand, wouldn't you?"

Edited 2015-02-05 05:57 (UTC)

He turns back to the silverware drawer, intent on fishing out a spoon to stir in the sugar and cream, but a straight corner catches his eye, and he draws out an object that gets an exasperated sigh.

"Cesar, the kitchen is not the place for books..."

This time, he opens it to a random page rather than setting it aside or waiting for Cesar to take it from him, but that random page has made him blanch, and compels him to flip to other pages. His eyes devour their contents until they fall on words that confirm what he knows, has known for months ever since Fuyuka had given him the information. His own name is written there, framed in a context that's still hollowly devastating months later, and furthermore, it comes with a pulse: his breath catches as his mind is flooded with the memory of a notebook with a black cover, and the names of thousands of victims written on its pages.

Remember that bit about playing keep-away with his older brother? Cesar has appeared at L's side, and he snatches the book from L's hands, tired of being ignored. He keeps it open to the same page, scanning it--

... What?

He flips to the cover and snaps through the first pages, looking for identifiers, before darting back.

What?

No. Where did he get this? It looks like a handwritten journal, and his eyes fell across the same words L's did, catching highlights. Now he reads more carefully, trying to understand. He avoids the signature after the first time, turning briefly to L, accusing. Then he's back to the book, agitation worsening. None of this is true, he's trying to mentally insist it away. (The attempt fails.)

It doesn't make sense. He knew Chuck didn't have anything to do with his own crimes, so why does anything like this exist? Who wrote it? Worst of all, is there any chance in hell that it's remotely real? He doesn't want it to be, more than anything, but it's difficult to argue with the writing that's staring him in the face.

What's more painful: blaming yourself for some of the most horrible crimes you can imagine, or finding out that someone you thought you were protecting was undeniably involved in them?

The pulse has him occupied enough that he makes no attempt to prevent the notebook from being yanked from his hands. They both fall limp at his sides; he's seen enough of the book to know the gist of the contents, and it's not new to him, but it was information that Cesar had denied. It had actually driven a very real wedge between them, causing L to pull away from the topic then. Had he been wrong to allow Cesar his denial?

"I'd ask what that's doing here, and why you didn't tell me you knew..." he says softly, stirring his coffee numbly with a teaspoon. "But I get the feeling this is the first time you've seen it, too."

Time to process is probably in order; L is silent, doing his best to give it to him.

{Did you write this?}

Cesar mouths the words while he signs, pointing sharply at the notebook. Then he opens it again, paging through it as though he might find some clue. Maybe there's a section where the handwriting shifts, or the contents turn to page-filling nonsense for the sake of appearances.

He finds none of what he's looking for, and his shoulders bow a little more.

L's hands are immediately at chest-level, palms facing outward, an expression of denial and revulsion darkening his features. "No. Even if I did, where would I have kept it? You saw what I brought in last night," he says defensively. "You felt it, I didn't have a book on me then and nothing changed that would have given me one this morning..."

He seems just as disturbed by the notebook as Cesar does, though he was previously aware of what the contents revealed, and he eyes it with mistrust and distaste as Cesar flips through it.

"I don't take pleasure in this," he adds as a soft afterthought. "I didn't want to convince you, once I knew how strongly you felt. Everyone has something they don't want to know the truth about," he offers helplessly, fingers twitching; he wants to pull the book out of Cesar's hands and toss it on the stove.

Edited 2015-02-06 05:08 (UTC)

Lazarus knew he was right, but would have let Cesar keep his comfortable delusion. Had Cesar really been so naive? Cesar flips the book closed without prompting, and takes the other notebook out from the drawer he'd picked at random. The drawer gets closed back halfway, and Cesar makes to go past L to the kitchen door.

He doesn't want to deal with these right now. He'll handle this later, when he's not hungover and Lazarus isn't there.

"Wait..."

He moves to intercept Cesar's path, wedging his thin body between the other man and the door. He knows that the book has nothing to do with him, aside from detailing how his name and alibi were blithely handed over to people who could do some real damage with them. That means that either both of them are faultless, or Cesar knew about the notebook and placed it there himself. If that's true...

"I know it's confusing, and I'm sorry," he says, talking fast, trying to think faster. "I don't know what that book is or where it's from, but I've heard parts of it before, I've lived them, and if you let me help you try to figure this all out, I can read through both of those notebooks and we can try to piece it together. I can help with this..." he extends a hand for the notebooks, hesitantly, as though part of him believes it will be knocked roughly away.

Edited 2015-02-06 06:16 (UTC)

Cesar hesitates. The fact that he wants to deal with this later hasn't faded, and after a few seconds he shifts a little to the side, reaching for L's shoulder. He won't push him out of the way, but he's hoping the neutral, unspoken cues will be enough.

It's only after Cesar lays a hand on his shoulder that L realizes he's more than tense; he's bracing, a shoddy but determined fortress intent on keeping whatever impending disaster is coming at bay. He's insubstantial but completely unflinching, and though he relaxes under Cesar's touch, he doesn't budge.

"The other notebook," he says, gaze steady, words solid and deliberate. "You grabbed it just now for a reason. Please, let me help you... whatever's in it, we can figure it out and work past it. Maybe what's written can't be changed, but... it's blank pages, from this second forward, and every one of them is your call, for better or worse."

His face is paler, but his hand is bolder and more insistent as he holds it out for the notebook.

Cesar stills, grip on the notebooks tightening. 'Blank pages'? It's a nice sentiment, even bordering on cliche, but L has no idea what he's suggesting. There would be no 'together' in figuring anything out, even if there were really a 'together' in anything right now. Cesar would be lucky if L wasn't his judge and executioner by the time it was all over. He'd probably still get one sooner or later, or at least a well-deserved imprisonment.

He doesn't move closer this time, and he puts his free hand on L's wrist, pushing to one side. If it moves, Cesar will try to guide the rest of him that way, too. If it doesn't, it's still an answer.

Edited 2015-02-06 07:42 (UTC)

At first, L thinks that Cesar really is going to hand over the book and come clean about whatever he knows about Chuck's notebook, and the second, more mysterious one that he's clutching along with it. Instead, he tries to push aside L's extended wrist. His hand brushes deep, ugly scar tissue, which isn't so far from the number tattoo across L's open palm, and though L seems uneasy with the proximity to the area, he fights the impulse to pull his sleeve down to hide it. The man he wants to be, who he hopes he's becoming, doesn't balk at the first sign of resistance, even if the resistance is taller and stronger than he is.

Or even, for that matter, if the resistance would like him much better if he gentled down and just moved out of the way.

"If it's a journal, you only have to say so. I keep one too. Just..."

Just what? Don't seem so much like you want me gone?

It's suspicious as hell; it's in the kitchen, Cesar's trying to run with it and the book that appears to have been written by Chuck.

Who keeps things like that in the kitchen to ruin a good morning? I just wanted to make coffee.

As a detective, he should be fighting for the evidence, doing everything in his power to get at it regardless of the cost or consequence. It could be a missing piece, and contain answers he's been grasping for.

As a human, you're lonely. And weak. And utterly foolish.

He's visibly torn for a solid several seconds. He's of two minds; one wants to insist on the notebooks and point out that withholding them is practically confessing guilt, and the other wants to step aside and give someone he thinks of at least as a friend some distance and trust. He's standing at a crossroads and is equally inclined to go either way, and that moment of uncertainty is a perfect one to take advantage of if Cesar has any hope of swaying him favorably.

The silence draws on, and as L argues with himself Cesar catches something that makes his eyes widen infinitesimally. He's seeing an option. He hesitates, realizing what he needs to do.

The touch to L's wrist changes, turning gentle, and to more of a resting motion. Cesar is standing closer than before, and his face moves level with L's, tilting ever so slightly. He's not lingering, but he's not going so fast that it looks like he's coming in for some kind of kill.

His lips press softly against L's.

It's a question without clear words, and he draws it out, moving the hand from L's wrist to cup the side of his face. The gesture stays closed mouth, and he tries not to breath morning-breath on his face. This isn't the start of something bigger, like before.

The kiss ends. Cesar doesn't step back immediately, but he's looking through half-lidded eyes to try to gauge L's reaction, and he needs enough room to sign.

{It's a journal from those months. Not all those secrets are mine, and I can't talk about them.}

It's the first step towards one more thing that's irredeemable, and he feels ashamed.

Edited 2015-02-06 18:08 (UTC)

If Cesar had been going in for any kind of kill, it would have been easy. Even the way his touch changes provokes an immediate difference in the detective; he softens and relaxes with the kiss, hand falling to his side as Cesar's touches his cheek. He's passed the crossroads, chosen a path, and he's moving forward with a wound he doesn't even know he possesses.

Too late.

When Cesar pulls back enough to sign, L has to stop himself from closing that gap. Recovering from the beginning motion, he instead rests against the counter, watching Cesar's hands move. To say that he's pacified is an understatement; he is practically etherized.

"We have more in common than I thought, then," he says simply. "It... does help, doesn't it?" he runs his fingers briefly through his unruly hair, before turning his gaze slowly back to the coffee. The irony of having told Cesar that everyone has a truth they don't want to see escapes him. It might even be the wound he's moving forward with, its gaping nature mollified by shock but still making him far more vulnerable.

"Books still don't belong in the kitchen..."

L's question simply gets another smile. Then Cesar lifts the notebook and points at himself and the doorway, as though he'd been trying to address his poor organization skills this entire time.

He doesn't give L a chance to respond. Cesar retreats from the kitchen, disappearing directly into a door around the corner. It's not one that's easy to see from the kitchen, and when Cesar returns a few seconds later, the notebooks are gone.

L doesn't return Cesar's smile, but he also doesn't make any kind of move to impede him as he leaves with both notebooks. There's a mildly dazed quality to the way he watches the other man leave, as though he knows he's watching something important disappearing, knowing full well that he's powerless to stop it.

When Cesar comes back, the coffee is ready and waiting for him, complete with cream and sugar, set at the side of a plate with three slices of absolutely charred french toast.

By the time he comes back, he's changed shirts. He'll take a real shower after L has left, but until then, it serves as a cheap excuse for why he lingered so much in his bedroom (looking for a temporary hiding place), and it makes him feel a little less like he's suffering a dehydrated Morning After.

Breakfast and coffee are ready. The toast looks completely inedible, but the coffee tastes better than it usually does, and the gesture itself is oddly touching. He picks up both plate and mug and looks towards L, seeing if he has one of his own. If he does, Cesar will tilt his head towards the main room, where they can pull up chairs and eat over the papers scattered across the table. If L doesn't have a plate and mug, he'll put the plate back down as though he meant to all along, staying where he is.

L has his own coffee cup held in both hands, and seems not to have made any french toast beyond the three slices on Cesar's plate. He nods briskly, moving to head out to the main room.

"I don't eat breakfast... I tend to be queasy in the mornings," he says softly. "But don't let that stop you from enjoying breakfast, I've got coffee and that's all I need."

Enjoying. How on earth is he going to discreetly dig through all the charcoal, if there's even anything left beneath it? Not for the first time, Cesar is grateful that L doesn't read faces well, or he might actually pick up on the strain in Cesar's smile.

He follows him into the main room. There's only so many places to sit, and after eyeing the cluttered table he makes for the couch. It's a little awkward to sit there, considering what they'd been up to last night, but he sips his coffee as though he doesn't notice, starting the brave task of facing the french toast.

(... Are those chunks even bread?)

It's a hell of a tall order, even for someone who likes L, especially for someone who typically likes French toast. But L is not great at reading facial expressions, and that strain absolutely seems to be wholly lost on him.

L sits beside him on the couch, sipping at his hot coffee, staring at the television screen.

"Thank you for last night. I would not be opposed to doing it again sometime," he says softly.

This entire morning has been extremely unkind to any feelings of security, trust, relaxation, and affection that Cesar might've had lingering from the night before. If anything, he feels like a beetle that's had to unfurl its wings suddenly, and is still in the process of trying to refold them.

Would he want to do a repeat of the night before? Well--it was fun, wasn't it? He doesn't remember all of it, and this morning was enough of a rollercoaster to make him think twice, but overall, everything went alright.

The plate is already resting across his thighs, so he drops the toast on it, freeing his hands for a single sign. 'Same'. It occurs to him that it might be too brisk, and he glances over, but saying anything else at this point would be stumbling and clumsy.

American Sign Language is reliant on a lot of nonverbal cues, a lot of fine gestures that serve to replace the inflection and tone present in verbal speech. Like inflection and tone, L also seems to miss fragments of meaning and intent, and he simply nods and sips his coffee, taking it innocently at face-value and staring straight ahead. His gaze wanders sideways when his peripheral vision picks up on Cesar's furtive glance, but he seems unalarmed and unconcerned.

"I can't stay much longer. It's bad enough that I stayed out all night without telling any of the people who typically watch my back... I'm sure you have things to do, as well."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I Guess That I Just Thought Maybe We Could Find New Ways to Fall Apart [Friday, January 23]

no subject

no subject

no subject

1/2

2/2

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