Reprisal - [Sam]

[Anonymous]

Loki dragged himself back to his apartment after a diabolical day. His mind was aching with the effort of healing magically, only beaten by the throb of his feet. He shut the door behind him and couldn’t even muster the strength to immediately go to bed. He propped his back against the door and shut his eyes. He wanted one thing. He wanted to feel good. He loathed this state of exhaustion, his body lagging behind the rest of him when he wanted to do more.  He wanted to feel invincible again.  Which called for the Network.

“Astrophel, are you busy? I need you.” The Dragon didn’t answer. But he could feel his presence in his mind. He was there, but remaining silent. Loki was used to doing all the talking but this was ominous. This had the air of disappointment. Not now. He needed to get better. “Astrophel, please-”

“I heard your thoughts today. They were disgraceful. Until you reacquaint yourself with the standards I expect from you, I am not ceding you anything,” Astrophel replied. Loki frowned, lashing his fist out to connect with the door.

He didn’t understand why Astrophel wasn’t understanding him. His patient had been a Stage 2 Candidate, a frail girl of seventeen. Her mentor had seen she was lagging in combat studies. So he threw her into the deep end. The results were serious lacerations, head trauma, shrapnel wounds and some fractures. She nearly died from that alone. Poor kid. Silent the whole time he was with her. He had sensed her thoughts, they were slipping away not just from him, but from her. They didn’t tend towards anything. She was blanked. And it seemed worryingly permanent. There was no flicker of anger, or malice, that might have seen her through the rest of he Candidacy.  He took the time to probe closely- he was a Pilot after all. There was nothing redeemable that was apparent in her. She was resigned to what was going to happen to her, without the will to stop it.

He just knew she’d end up at TRIM. He didn’t want to help her. He was so tired of building people up only to watch them crumble later on. Fodder for TRIM. It gave him a sense of pointlessness. Why should he waste his time and energy helping her? Just so that she could get sent over there. A combination of exhaustion, selfishness and pity nearly made him falter in his arterial repairs. But he had to do it. He wasn’t going to be righteous at the cost of himself. That would be fucking ridiculous.

“She’s alive, isn’t she? What the hell do you want from me?”

“The right motivation. And you nearly failed as a result of wayward thoughts. You’re growing lax. Where is your self-discipline?”

“Why do you want me to save these people? They’re better dead, they probably want to be dead. They’re useless-”

“They become resources. Preserve them. You do not have the authority to concern yourself with these affairs.”

“That’s-” fucked. That was his initial reaction. But he had to stop and rock onto his heels as he thought about it. Because Astrophel had a point. It was practical. Still, there was the unshakable sense of … something amiss about it. He didn’t like feeling it. He usually ignored those feelings. He was sure this uneasiness was guilt. He couldn’t ignore it though. The guilt was  legitimised and transformed into something else entirely by the suffering he was going through for these lesser beings. Note throbbing feet and head. And so guilt, for once, became something practical rather than a hindrance.

“Act like a Pilot, then you may reap the rewards. You are unworthy for now.”

Then screw you. He’d hold it.

“It’s folly. You’ll be begging me tomorrow.”

No he wouldn’t. He craved it, wanted it so bad, but he surely could beat this. Mind over matter. Except the Network and his Dragon were part of his mind. That might complicate things. He felt Astrophel’s presence recede from the forefront of his mind and Loki was left, shivering with exhaustion.

He logged onto the VCN. A poor substitution but it had semblances that could ease him, surely? Apparently not. It exacerbated things even more. Within seconds of setting up, he hated it. Hated it for not being Network, for not being able to plug into it.

He nearly logged off right away, except he found a news bulletin on the message boards. The latest graduates. Livos Sulo. No way- he’d finally done it. Loki’s black mood deepened with jealousy. Bastard had probably plugged in already. Oh man he really needed it. It was like there was a tickle, underneath the surface of his skin which could not be relieved with scratching. His nails played dot to dot with the freckles on his forearm, leaving red welts in their wake.

He had a favour to repay Liv, didn’t he? He had been abruptly knocked off his higher place last time. Well, he’d be getting pay back. And Loki, though he wouldn’t admit it to himself, wanted to be around someone who had plugged in. As if he could steal some of their energy. Share the buzz just from being in their presence. He was desperate. He’d try anything. Even Sulo. Though he’d hide his desperation under the pretence of revenge.

He stormed out of his apartment and towards Liv’s room, so conveniently placed. He punched in the number that Loki had gleaned from the records when Liv was still a Candidate, hoping he hadn’t changed his code. He had. The input flashed red before informing him it was the wrong code. No dramatic entrance.

His fist hit the door hard three times. “Liv! Hey! Open up, why, I haven’t had the chance to congratulate you yet.” So don’t deprive any of the satisfaction. And he’d better bloody be high.

[Anonymous]

It was always carrots.

Liv hadn't even eaten carrots.  

It just seemed to be a universal rule: whenever he found himself hugging porcelain, he encountered unidentifiable orange bits.... ew.  His head still hurt so much he was seeing the world through a shattered, blurry sort of prism, with floating haloes and sparkling little tracks on the edge of his vision.  He had heard about Dragons' testing, and he'd gone through some painful psychic cavity searches, but he could still feel the cotton packing in this one, in the deep, numb hole that now belonged to Falstaff.  

Falstaff.  

That was just fucked up.  He had all of Haz's memories, for fuck's sake.  For... fuck.  

Liv bent over, shoulders heaving, and got out the slimy bile left in his stomach.   He swallowed drily and tugged at the flush, hanging onto it until he could hear the water gurgling and clanging away.  Then he dragged himself upright, bracing his hands on the edge of the sink, and examined the port set in over his right temple, under the limp, coldly sweaty straggles of his hair.  Squinting against the fluorescent lights, he ran a finger over over the port's edges.  The skin around it was still raw, bleeding a little, but he felt that like a surface scratch over a much deeper sort of ache.  Mouthwash, right.  He grimaced at himself in the mirror, his reflection an unclear blur.  His hands didn't feel like they belonged to him; they felt numb and clumsy, and so did his mouth, while he swilled the blue stuff around and spat it into the sink.  

The Testing had kicked up all of his darkest mental corners, turned everything upside down, ripped his shields to shambles, dragged him into a mental world that wasn't his own.  He'd had his memories and opinions dug out and he'd seen them looked at dispassionately, as though they were unimportant little baubles, as though his convictions and angers were just--hm, Falstaff had said, in that voice, hm--were just little ephemeral things, and he was useful despite his hatred of Dragons and Network, and... hm, it doesn't matter, still useful--and he'd flicked them away.  

It made Liv feel weak and it terrified him.

He supposed it hadn't been worse than the worst of his shield exercises, the worst of Hasdrubal's manipulations, but Falstaff would always be there.  He was a fucking pet.  If he'd accepted it it would have been easier, the Dragon had made that very clear, in his remote way.  Liv hated the remoteness already.  Every time the big green Dragon spoke in his head he could see that stupid-looking, jagged grin of his and feel that sort of huge, echoing emptiness, so much bigger than he was.  

His first brief glimpse of the Network had been painful, too, which would really keep him in line.  Right, a painful addiction, that's such fucking fun, something to look forward to.  He'd felt the enormity of that, too, the information, the potential pleasure...  He would avoid that as long as he could.  Maybe once the port settled it would be easier, but for now, Connection hurt--then again, everything hurt.  

Liv wobbled back to bed, fingers still scrubbing at the port on his forehead.  He wished he could just get the damn thing off.  He felt so.  Fucking.  Owned.  

What?

For a second the blurry vibration didn't register as noise; then Liv struggled upright, holding his head.  Loki.  Oh... please.  Come on.  Here to gloat, no doubt, see, Liv was one of them now, just as weak or... he supposed he should be the one gloating, but he felt so fucking far from it.  

"Fuck. Off," Liv called; his voice came out scratchy.  

He waited, settling back, but the Pilot outside only only redoubled his pounding.  "Fuck off!"

But Loki's company was better than none.  By what degree, Liv didn't really care to think.  He shoved himself out of bed, belatedly aware that he looked like warmed-over shit, and braced himself against the wall by the door, wavering a second before he pressed the button that would unlock it.  It clicked open at once, and Liv looked up at his visitor.  "Does 'fuck off' not..."  His eyes focused, and Liv stopped, surprised.  Loki looked none too chipper himself.  "... have any meaning anymore?"

[Anonymous]

He wasn’t giving up. He kept knocking incessantly, barely hearing Liv’s protests over the barrage. And then there was click of the lock. It swung open, and his eyes were arrested. Loki had never seen Liv in such a state, bar the few glances near the beginning of his Candidacy where Liv was bald. It was really something- seeing a cocky thing like him seem so tired. It made him feel better. He didn’t feel wretched at all for it. He took plenty of pleasure in the fact that there was some poor creature worse off then him. His Network addiction was abated, slightly, at contact with kindred.

He offered Liv a sardonic smile as a way of greeting. “You haven’t answered that already? Man, it lost meaning when you became a Candidate, never mind a Pilot.” Loki brushed past Liv and trespassed on the room. It wasn’t like Liv was capable of stopping him. No, he would have to put up with the pleasure of Loki’s attention for a while. And as long as Liv was weak, Loki would need him. It balanced his own weakness and made it seem less acute. It was more manageable. His body still ached, but something about being here dulled it for him. He paused in the centre of the room and looked over his shoulder. “Congratulations, by the way.”

He stalked over to Liv’s bed, momentarily beset by the lingering smell of vomit in the air. He wrinkled his nose in distaste before unceremoniously flopping onto the mattress, arms spread, taking up as much room as possible. Liv invaded his personal space plenty, so this seemed rather befitting. He would have invaded Liv if his skin didn’t look so pasty and uninviting presently. He probably didn’t look much better. But at least he still looked better. This was the alternative.

He wanted to ask for details about his suffering, to make the situation even better, but he guessed he would amount to nothing. Liv would know how he was deriving his satisfaction, therefore would be able to stop it. He needed another way to assert himself. His lips quirked to one side.

“You know, if you ask nicely I could make you feel better. Just say that you need my help,” he drawled. Compromise enough. He slipped his hands under his head and closed his eyes “I mean make you feel better medically, of course.” Because everything he said had the potential to be given additional sexual connotations. “I’m not that altruistic.”

[Anonymous]

And Loki was back to playing his usual games.  Usually they would have annoyed Liv, but today he felt almost grateful, for the company and the return to a little bit of normality.  Even if it was normality as per Rasmussen.  

"Gosh, thanks, don't break out the champagne or anything," he said, pressing the door shut behind Loki.  He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to get his vision to steady itself, and pushed off the wall for leverage.  Loki, meanwhile, had chosen to make himself at home in his bed.  

Liv wondered briefly why he seemed so clingy today.  Usually pathetic desperation was Liv's job.  But Loki seemed much too enthusiastic to be here, in Liv's messy, disordered, vomit-scented apartment, and that wasn't usual for Loki, he was usually more remote.  It gave Liv just a little satisfaction, dredged up from the fuzzy self-pity sloshing around his brain, to realize that Loki was acting needy.  

But there was no way Liv was going to let him steal his bed.  That just wasn't right, and just because they'd both shown some sort of weakness didn't mean Liv would give up the competition, though his head hurt too much for the usual flirtation.  Innuendos suggested themselves and fragmented, along with witty puns and whatever, and, fuck, his head hurt.  But it wasn't like his self-satisfied visitor would get up if he asked, hell, he specifically wouldn't get up if he asked.  Liv decided on the direct approach.

He thumped down onto his bed beside Loki and shoved at him, trying to edge him over.  

"I need you to get out of my bed so I can get some sleep," he said finally, because it was banter, not because he meant it.  "Just like I needed you to fuck off earlier, but--I--guess--that's--not--"  He punctuated his words with half-hearted pushes at Loki's shoulder.  "--ngh."   Liv wriggled sideways and leaned over Loki, his glare half a squint, because light still hurt coming in.  Damned if he was going to give in and say he needed a quick magic cure.  No fucking way.  "--guh, you've wanted into my bed for ages, and now you've made it, now move."  Prod, prod.

[Anonymous]

Loki felt the mattress give way beside him under Liv’s weight. He didn’t move to accommodate him, evicting the other Pilot to the edge of the bed. A jab was his reward in the shoulder. If it actually had some force behind it then it would be easier to put up with. He could sort of steel himself against it. But this was just so whiney it was annoying. Loki groaned in protest, fidgeting a bit in his place. He wasn’t going to give up anything. Him being dominant was just far too much fun. He smiled, creaking an eye open to see Liv’s shadow over him.

“Hey, you evidently wanted me in it too. You sure you want to be driving me out- ouch!” Liv’s finger drove into his side, connecting with a rib. He hated that so much. He instinctively jolted away, yielding a little space in defence. His hand jumped down to ease what felt like potential bruising, brushing Liv’s fingers. He then slapped them out of the way. “You’re such a dick.”

This was nice. Everything about it was … childish. The teasing didn’t have malice in it, as far as he could tell. It was very carefree. So far removed from the drudgery and mind numbing occurrences of being a Pilot. It was like they could be spectators- everything else outside the room could be reduced to something trivial. Mottled and distorted, viewed through frosted glass.

Though, it was still with Liv. And that’s just fucked. He felt very aware of him, which soon made him uncomfortable. Ease could always be sharpened and edged with vulnerability. He found himself with the need to sabotage it. To make it something he could handle. He could handle an antagonistic Liv. When it was like this, he felt like he was letting his guard drop. Liv could still obtain the upper hand. He wanted to retain it for a while. Even though in this fickle semblance of peace, he found himself wanting to fall into sleep. The only things stopping him were his concerns about his defence and his Network cravings.

He reached down and grabbed the covers, drawing them over himself only and rolling around twice so he was completely enveloped in them, depriving Liv of any sheets at all. He then decided to shuffle over so that he had a decent amount of the room on the bed.

“You’re obviously fine since you declined my charitable offer. So you’re not getting any let up from me unless you ask for it.” And Liv knew how proficient Loki was at being a complete arsehat. “Just say it. You need me. I can make it all go away.”

[Anonymous]

What the hell had gotten into Loki today?  Even in his muzzy, befuddled state, Liv recognized that something had gone direly wrong, if Loki wasn't being cold and removed and snarky.  Hell, he was acting playful, grabbing Liv's sheets... his fucking sheets.  If he was trying to start a fight, Liv honestly didn't have the energy, but he wasn't.  He just wanted to snuggle, apparently.

Right, oh-kaay then.  

"Can you make yourself go away?" Liv said at last, sliding further onto the bed and grabbing at a loose end of the sheet.  He yanked at it.  The effort first set up a pounding that radiated through his skull and down his spine, but then he felt better, his head cleared, focused on... goal-oriented... tasks.  He got one corner free and pulled, fruitlessly.

"Oh... fuck you."  Liv collapsed, crooking one elbow around Loki's neck.  It would have been a wrestling hold if he'd had any energy.  Liv shook him back and forth, glaring sideways, though it hurt, again, to let his eyes slide that way in their sockets.  Everything looked pink and spotty for a second, and then he narrowed him eyes and Loki's snapped into focus.  He flung his other arm over him, thumping him in the chest.  If he wanted to get cozy, fine, it was Liv's job to edge into 'uncomfortably close.'

And uncomfortably honest, because if he didn't reestablish their normal hostility soon, he'd start to think his mind had cracked under Draconic testing.  Fucking Falstaff.

The Dragon laughed in the back of his head and Liv's mouth twisted up.  It felt wrong, it sent sick shakes down his spine, Falstaff's voice through their connection.  He shoved him off and it faded, faded, gone.  Liv froze for a moment, waiting to see if he'd say anything else, but nothing came.  Ugh.  Back to Loki.

"--Honest to golly, Loke, I don't think I'm the one who's needy today."  Arm still crooked around his neck, he used his free hand to turn his jaw toward him.  Words and thoughts still weren't coming easily, but if he could focus down on this one problem, this one abnormality, and investigate it, everything would feel better.  "What is on your so-called mind, Rasmussen?"  He hissed over the s's.  "'Cause I know it's not compassion that's..."

Shit, he'd broken the camaraderie that'd built, hadn't he?  but that had been downright creepy anyway, that playfulness, childishness, he didn't trust it... still, Liv felt just a little bad, like he ought to have known what was making Loki stranger than usual, but his brain wasn't working, and he couldn't put a finger on it.  So back to antagonism.

[Anonymous]

Needy. No, he had been far to opaque for- Surely. Liv couldn’t have- Wait. He hadn’t come here because he was needy. It was for the antagonism. Fucking hell, he wasn’t dependent on anyone. He didn’t need anyone. He was suddenly repulsed by the closeness, by Liv’s arm languidly wrapped around his neck, the tenderness of the touch of his jaw. No! They were wrong. They were symbols of weakness. Damn it. He was meant to be better than Liv, not equal to him.

Astrophel was right. He needed the Network. Else this was what happened. He’d become readable. Malleable. Shit. Not compassion? That had been true from the start, Loki asserted to himself. He wanted to tell Liv as casually as he could that he was just entertainment. Sport. Something he could fall back on to chase away the boredom. Nothing more. He just needed to alienate him, because he was dangerously close to diving under the surface and finding all the dirt.

He ripped himself out of Liv’s hold- he had to stop himself from calling it an embrace. That made his skin crawl. He fought off the sheets frantically before throwing them over Liv’s form, muffling his warmth. He liked that; fooling his sense of touch into thinking he wasn’t there. Loki sprang upright, shuffling over until he was sitting at the edge of the bed, staring at his feet. It still didn’t dispel his discomfort. Liv had never out and said that he thought there was something wrong with him. He didn’t out and say it now but it was so heavily implied-

Shit. He really could tear apart Loki with that slip. He wasn’t infallible. He was human again, and Liv was hovering just above him.

“Of course it’s not compassion Liv,” he laughed harshly. He ran a finger under his collar, loosening another button. The shirt felt like it was sticking to his skin. “Don’t kid yourself. You’ve always known you’re just entertainment, surely.”

Now prove it, Rasmussen. His thoughts, possibly echoed by Liv. Wouldn’t be surprised. He’d love to probe, it would be so easy to do it. Liv was basically helpless. Though he’d like to keep that as his trump card. Beating him through other means would be much more satisfactory. And he had to factor in the fact that he was no longer Candidate Sulo.

“So …” he trailed off as he shuffled over. He sat on top of a sheet encumbered Liv, across his navel. Or what he though was his navel. His form was obscured. “You’re actually right. I am needy. It’s because I’m bored Liv.” Bored. Cryptic. Really meaning I need to fucking connect, but I can’t. So you’ll have to do you bastard. He would never know. “Humour me why don’t you? It’s not like you can make me leave anyway.”

[Anonymous]

It almost didn't matter what Loki said now.  His twitchy, jerky body language and sudden leap away spoke more for who had the upper hand than any of his sniping, and that, well... Liv had never really thought he was more than entertainment.  Or maybe he had, and the insult just cut a little too close to the truth, nothing exaggerated, simply true: Liv was a toy or for entertainment purposes, generally speaking, when not occupied, as he would be henceforth, as a Dragontool.  He often worried he wasn't even that entertaining.  The truth hurt.  

Bored.  

Now that wasn't true.  Liv sucked in a breath uncomfortably and realized, though he'd felt too numb and disconnected to notice before, that Loki had taken a seat on his stomach, pressing down on the sore little contracted ball of it.  It still felt unpleasantly awash with acid.  Liv made a face and shifted, driving one side deeper into the mattress to escape the pressure.  The sheets slid with him, bunching around his body, catching on his legs.  He really was trapped.  

An uncomfortable thought struck Liv.  Loki hadn't come in to... to check up on him while he was vulnerable, had he?  To take a look inside his head?  No.  Nothing like that.  He knew Loki, and he wouldn't... and, anyway, Liv had just gone through Dragon-harrowing, now that was some fucking paranoia.  Dragons, fucking Dragons--

Oh.  Now that he thought about it, Liv felt inutterably stupid.  The pallor, the slight clamminess, the jittery air he'd noticed, that was Network withdrawal.  

If this wasn't an I told you so moment, Liv would... something.  But it didn't feel particularly triumphant.  Instead, he collapsed backwards, hands over his face, and let out a low groan.  His stomach twisted.  "Righto, Loko, I'll..."  He lost the word for a second.  Maybe he should ask for a quick cure.  "... uh, I'll humor your fragile feelings."  Enough of a gibe, he'd get it, Liv didn't have the energy to press further thus far.  Loki already seemed far enough off balance, more than he'd ever expected.  It made Liv a little uncomfortable.

He opened his hands around his eyes like shutters and squinted up at the other Pilot.  "Now, dear, if you're going to hang around here anyway, would you mind fixing me up?  ... please."  Gracious in victory, Liv, that was a new one.  But he did want the headache and the nausea and above all the weakness to go away.

[Anonymous]

Fragile feelings. Fuck off Liv. This was bad. His little concession did nothing for Loki. If anything he just wanted to make Liv suffer a little more, just to score a few cheap points and level the field. He was sorely tempted to wind him, or dig an elbow into his stomach. Because surely Liv was more helpless than Loki.

But Liv had one up in that he wasn’t ashamed of it. His weakness was perfectly legitimate. Loki’s was a personal failing. This fight seemed to grow even more hopeless. Liv may be asking for his help, but he really was humouring him and he didn’t like it at all. Fine. He would do it- he wouldn’t be the better man if he walked away. He also knew that healing was one of the few things he could still do well. Something he could hold on to and be proud of.

He slid off of Liv and freed him from the covers. He’d need skin to skin contact- he wasn’t in the right frame of mind nor able state to perform healing without it. He laid a hand over Liv’s forehead, preparing to dispel the nausea. Contrary to belief, nausea was rarely related to the stomach. And the aftershocks of being read by a Dragon was somewhat the same as motion sickness. The confusion of perceptions. Having difficulty settling into yourself and being comfortable and aware of yourself. It was also exacerbated by the alien presence. The mind was then prone to hyperactivity. Loki would have to do a mixture of psychic action and wilful coaxing if he wanted to alleviate any of he symptons. He would have force Liv’s perceptions to realign. He wasn’t sure if Liv would be prepared to do that. And he wasn’t sure if he had the concentration to make sure it wouldn’t hurt when he did.

Didn’t he want to hurt Liv a moment ago?

What’s the use. He’s won anyway. Defeatist. That wasn’t like him at all. His Dragon really did have him under the thumb. Abhorrent thought.

“I’m not making excuses- I’m good at my job. But I’d need to invade and I’m sure you’ve had enough of that for the week,” Loki said lowly, nearly a mumble.

He felt so tired all of a sudden. He was desperate to sleep, but the withdrawal was forcing him awake. His body was consuming energy it didn’t have, leaving him with debt and exhausting him further, but not allowing him to escape. It was hellish. He couldn’t believe he had been naïve enough to think he could outrun it. And he had been stupid resorting to this because now Liv was witness to him. To him as a broken person. We’re both broken, really. That knowledge didn’t give him the same comfort it did five minutes ago. If anything, it just saddened him, because it seemed so fucking pathetic.

“Not even going last tomorrow,” Astrophel said. He could have at least been snide. His matter-of-fact tone hurt more than he expected. It seemed a lot harder to fault.

Anger riled in him, but he had nothing to spend it on. He really was a ridiculous figure of a human being. His hand jumped to his temple. “Get out.” He would last to tomorrow. Just so he could have one small victory before it was lost to oblivion that was the Network. He would have to erase his thoughts beforehand so he could taste it again. He would wait till tomorrow. He wanted to keep the semblance of himself alive for the night.

He slumped down next to Liv, head hitting the pillow, face turned towards him. Strange how the other man seemed to hold up a mirror to him. He didn’t like it, but it was a necessity. He had to rectify his weaknesses. When he was less tired.

“I can’t move, so don’t kick me out. I’m staying here. Spoon and I will kick you. Hard.”

[Anonymous]

Liv blinked up at Loki.  His hand felt cold on his forehead, a little twitchy, and he steeled himself for potential pain or psychic intrusion.  But... nothing.  Three odd surprises in one day.  What a day.  Liv never would have expected Loki to back down on a healing request, particularly not when it was what he had held over Liv.  Well, fine, maybe he'd do it out of malice or as part of the withholding game, denying Liv something he'd asked for, but he distinctly did not take that tone this time.  Instead he sounded apologetic.

If Liv hadn't disliked the clichéed phrase so much, he might've asked who are you, and what've you done with Loki?

But that wasn't the point.  He knew the whole old story, and he knew what Loki's issue was, really.  It just seemed strange.  Pretty futile, he supposed, to think about it.  They were Pilots, and being Pilots sucked almost as much as being Candidates had, not that he was about to spend his first night as a Pilot commiserating about it.  That would not be clever, and Falstaff would probably... bad idea.  He hadn't actually wanted to spend it with anyone, just wanted to quietly recover and when he was all chipper he could go and beg congratulation from friends and enemies alike. Hey, at least Loki was less of a jerk as Pilot in Network withdrawal than he'd been as a high-and-mighty Stage Five or a new Dragonpet.  Loki blinked at him, his expression very unLokilike.  Liv stared back.

This was so human and sweet and shit Liv was just going to have a fucking aneurysm.  He shut his eyes for a second and rubbed at the lines that'd grown between his brows in the last twelve hours, then flung out a hand, groping for the pillow that had slid between his bed and the wall.  He flipped it over, whacking Loki in the face.

"How can you kick me if I'm spooning you," he said, batting the pillow down between them and edging away, sheets firmly in hand.  Loki might be set on the infantility of a sleepover, but Liv was set on the infantility of stealing the lion's share of the covers.  

They were his sheets, for fuck's sake.  "Tell you what, hug that if my presence brings forth any uncontrollable urges."  If it had been any other day, the innuendo this situation would've... no, it was really too obvious for innuendo.  Not to mention disconcertingly creepy, this vulnerability.  He whacked at the pillow again, for good measure, then settled, shutting his eyes.  "Tomorrow I will tell everyone that you--that you... y'know..."  He pressed the heels of both hands to his squinched eyes.  "... waited this long to crack up from the stress..."  He paused every so often to take a deep, disorienting breath.  "...honestly, I'm the one who just... nnnn, never mind, Loke love, it's just..."  

Never mind.  "'Night."  He grabbed for the sheets and yanked them his way, curling up around a headache that still felt five times the size of his skull.  The skin on his back crawled at Loki's proximity, and then he relaxed.  He'd deal with this madness in the morning.

[Anonymous]

There wasn’t any conviction in Liv’s provocation. In a way that was worse. The pillow fell on his face and he batted it away meekly. If Liv really wanted to provoke him, he would have sat on the pillow afterwards. It was like he was holding back. Or maybe it was just because he was in no state to be really annoying. Still, he was being nice. Relatively that is. And the semblance of kindness hurt him; it stung like hot water against ice cold skin. Fucker, he knows exactly what he’s doing. Or did he? The pillow was laid between them and the barrier made him feel strangely and pathetically isolated. Get over it. It didn’t mean anything. He tried to grapple lamely for a share of the covers but gave up instead, shrugging off his jacket and laying it over his upper body.

“Give a shit. Just shut the hell up and sleep,” he said, into a pillow. “Night.” He settled, trying to find warmth, letting his body ease into the mattress. His arms, of their own accord, sought out the pillow. He held it tightly, the tension in his arms battling against the shaking in his limbs. He needed to sleep. He wanted to sleep. Liv’s peaceful breathing reached his ears after a few minutes. Now there was nothing to distract him from himself. He could easily wake Liv up for it. But then he really would be needy.

In the end, he resorted to tricks. He retreated into himself with his mind, searching out with magic, inducing sleep through a few tweaks. Loki slumped into a synthesised, dreamless oblivion.

*

His own body woke itself. The tremors had grown worse. His muscles ached from shaking. He felt like he had the flu, though it was so much worse. Nausea, headache, probably felt like Liv did yesterday. It felt so bad- he hadn’t felt physically ill since he first became a Pilot. So to be unceremoniously reacquainted with the flaws and delicacy of his own body was just … He didn’t want to open his eyes; they didn’t feel like that could stand up to natural sunlight. The chills wracked him, he felt exposed without any covers.

“Have you relinquished your thoughts?” He could catch the grim satisfaction in Astrophel. He would have hated him if he wasn’t so desperate. He didn’t have the strength to be genuinely appalled by the fact he had yielded that he had been in the wrong. He should protest but-

But the Network. It was just-

“Yes. I’m sorry. You were right. It’s not my place, now please- I can’t bear it.”

“I am engaged. You’ll have to wait.”

Loki grimaced at the thought, but agreed. Relief would be soon. He just needed to hide from Liv. Oh shit Liv. How bad had he been? How much had he perceived? He was even more vulnerable now. Loki had gotten worse, Liv had probably recovered. Fruitlessly, he tried to ease his own body with magic, but it refused. Magic was no substitute. He nearly exhausted him all over again trying to get his body to produce hormones and chemicals that would make him feel better. Endorphins, adrenaline, serotonins. None of it worked. He knew it was dangerous to toy with his body like that but he didn’t care.

Liv stirred beside him. He couldn’t be caught out again. He sat upright, a little too quickly. Dizziness assailed him, but blindly he tried to sit up and stand. He felt too weak and was forced to crash back down into the bed to recover, fully awaking Liv from his stupor.

He really needed water. He couldn’t get it himself, didn’t dare to ask. This dependency was stupid. It had been a bad idea to go to Liv in the first place. He was probably so smug. At least he wasn’t like the poor fucker in front of him yet. Maybe Loki was scaring him.

Feeling destructive, he reached for Liv’s covers and threw them, out of reach. He then reached for his pillow and slammed it onto Liv's head. “Morning, sunshine.”

[Anonymous]

Liv had an unsettling dream he didn't quite remember.  When he thought back, he thought it might have had something to do with some of his friends, someone blond, anyway, and the emptiness in his mind where he'd made space for his Dragon, something about Dragons, obviously, but he woke up thinking about code.  He had the feeling he'd missed a step in the beta series the other day, missed something.  It upset him more than anything ever should, disproportionate to its content.  Liv hated that about dreams.  All that emotion and--

The bed moved, and Liv snapped awake, or nearly so.  

Oh.

Loki.  Sleepover.  Whatever that was about.  He groaned and shut his eyes again, less from pain this time--that had receded--and more from Gods, this is my day off, take your asshattery and let me sleep.  This wasn't exactly how he'd wanted to get up on his first day as a Pilot.  Some privacy might have been nice, that, or the chance to sleep until he'd forgotten everything that had happened for the last ten years.

Instead, Loki ripped his sheets off, letting in a wash of air.  Something thumped him across the face.  Pillow.  Liv shoved it away and grabbed Loki by the wrists, on reflex.  He held on and squinted up at him, getting used to the light.  

"Morning, fuckface."  

He could feel the tendons in Loki's wrists twitching oddly in his grasp.  Now that he was clearer-headed, more alert, he couldn't believe he'd missed all the signs of withdrawal.  The pallor, the thin scum of cold sweat, the tiny scabs beaded along Loki's arm where he'd picked at the skin.  Liv himself felt much better, if still drained, with the taste of mouthwash and tin on his tongue and bile at the back of his throat.  It was like... some myth about one face of the moon getting stronger while the other one got weaker.  Loki must be feeling pretty shit right now.  Physical weakness, mental weakness, weakness, anyway, Liv knew he hated that.  Still, any triumph he might feel was elided, or just fucking crushed, by disappointment and depression.  Network addiction wasn't something stupid Loki had done, after all.  It was in store for him, too.  

He searched Loki's face, hands still on his wrists, because even with the shakes he wouldn't put it past Rasmussen to try to start a pillowfight.

Honestly, when had Pilotry gotten so juvenile?  

Oh.  Never mind.

"You look lovely today," he deadpanned, not giving him anything.

[Anonymous]

The hold on his wrists, the seriousness in his voice when he commented on his appearance- what was going on? Genuine flirtation? Fuck off. It was Liv. He was taking the piss. Loki groaned. “I look better than you,” he hissed. Ngh. Even his comeback was weak. He didn’t know what he could do to reassert himself, apart from annoy Liv. And he seemed immune to anyway. He wanted to do something to rattle his composure. Headaches weren’t conducive to creative thinking. He ripped is hands free and dropped the pillow down away from him, a small ‘tsk’ leaving his mouth.

He needed a drink. He pressed his hands either side of him again, trying to lift himself to his feet. Dizziness again, and he had to sit back down. His previously manufactured adrenaline hadn’t helped. It exacerbated his flight instinct. And this time, Liv had been awake to witness his frailty. Once again, he looked for something to balance it.

It was strange, regarding Liv as something that mattered rather than being someone with whom he could be entirely careless. He could only be careless as long as Liv appeared inferior to him. When that was challenged, so was his perception of him. He didn’t know what to think of him. Didn’t know where he stood. Or what Liv would do, in light of the situation, which was disconcerting itself. He wondered idly, then more seriously, whether Liv had the malice to exploit the situation. He probably did. He was a Pilot.

He made himself stop thinking about that, because fear settled uncomfortably in his stomach when he did. What was the potential that his could go horribly wrong for him … No. Stop. No possibility. None.

He needed to throw Liv off. Just screw him over a little. He just had no idea how to freak him out. How had he done it to Loki last time? That was it, made him think he was going to die. Drastic, and that itself could be seen as desperation just resorting to it. So he wasn’t going to strangle Liv. As much as he would like to. He was probably so very very smug. Dick.

What would Liv do? Fucking hell, he was referencing Liv. Astrophel had fucked him up so much. He had the sudden urge to dig his nails under his ports and try to wrench them out, as if that would solve everything.  How long would he have to wait till he was normal? And when he was normal, how much time would he spend evening the scores? He looked towards Liv with grim determination, before the expression softened into something unreadable.

Slowly, he crawled beside Liv. Then lifted himself onto him, sitting on his stomach again. He leaned over, placing both his forearms either side of Liv’s head. He dipped his head, mouth by his ear. “Liv …” he said in a lover’s whisper.

“… I think I’m gonna be sick.”

[Anonymous]

Liv grunted, surprised at the sudden weight, and held himself very still.  Loki's behavior was starting to look more and more pathetic.  He seemed so weirdly vulnerable, and he shouldn't; what had he expected, really?  Network addiction was Network addiction, and it happened, and you had to deal with it.  Loki had been a Pilot for over a year, he should realize that.  It almost disappointed him to realize that Loki's strength had to be more of a sham than he let on, even if he'd suspected it before.  

He certainly didn't feel bad for the other Pilot.  Hell, Liv was a Pilot now and if he had to deal with the same thing he'd fucking well deal with it, not collapse all over someone, like he had, heavens forbid, feelings or something.

There was the upside to a hard Candidacy.  Loki had floated by, so he felt entitled, like he didn't have to suffer; Liv, at least, had gotten pretty damn used to pain.  It'd become a comfortable companion, nothing worth thinking about, just sleep it off.

He wanted to hurt Loki.  Or give him a hug.  Until he'd crushed his ribs.  What?  Fucking idiot.  

Instead he took a deep breath and stayed where he was, Loki's weight a little uncomfortable on his stomach.  "Sorry, I'm not into that," he said at last, running one hand through Loki's hair.  "If you've got the energy to molest me, you can make it to the toilet and then go and Connect."  It came out flat, a little cold.  "It is what it is, Loke, deal with it."  He twined his hand in Loki's hair and wrenched his face upward, so he could look at him.  He let just a split second of seriousness go by.  

"... seriously, you might want to get up, I'm getting the wrong idea here."

Telling Loki to man up made it easier to straighten himself out, too, which was probably the point to their games.  Some people, Liv guessed, needed someone who'd be cruel to them.

[Anonymous]

Loki was forced to look at Liv’s face. He reached back instinctively to try and untangle the hold Liv had on his hair, frowning. Fucker. This wasn’t about is Network addiction. That wasn’t the issue. The issue was-

If that wasn’t the issue, then why are you here? To make himself feel better. Hiding his addiction under a veil. He never needed an excuse to antagonise Liv before. He thought he’d be able to hide it. Liv saw. He was annoyed Liv saw. And how dare he suggest it? He didn’t have the authority to show such audacity.

Deal with it, he said. Maybe this was his way of dealing with it. He was dealing with it. He had the sudden urge to slap Liv, hard as he could. Though that would mean that Liv had gotten under his skin. He couldn’t be so overtly violent. He didn’t like defeat being that apparent. He didn’t like defeat anyway.

He shouldn’t worry. Why did he have to listen to Liv? Why did he care what Liv said? Liv was inconsequential. He was just there. There! That was something he could cling onto. He had to listen to his Dragon. Listen to senior Pilots. But he would never have to listen to Liv. Ever. No. Liv had no influence over him. Therefore Liv had no power over him.

The anger cooled, crystallised into something else. Something more durable. Indifference. Loki sat up, but didn’t remove himself from his position. No, it suited his revelation too well. He was above Liv. He transcended him. He leant back, smarmy smile back on his face. This was familiar ground.

“Sorry Liv,” he said languidly. The smile twitched wider. “I don’t have to listen to anything you say.”

It was childish, but now he didn’t have to deal with contradictions. If he rejected the premise, the concept fell with it. Then there was nothing to concern himself with. He looked down at Liv with a cold triumph, cocking his head to one side to regard him.

[Anonymous]

He'd known he could get Loki out of his pitiable, pained Network-craving, he ran on anger.  Worked every time.  Liv allowed himself a moment of satisfaction: he'd won, after a fashion, really won this one, shoved Loki out of self-pity, anyway.

But he'd just defaulted back to that ridiculous... smug fuckery.  He might as well have stopped up his ears and stuck out his tongue.  At least he wasn't whining, but arch petulance seemed--honestly--almost as bad.  Annoying when people act the way you do, Liv-oh.  He frowned, eyebrows almost meeting over his nose, and felt his skin moving against the newly installed port.  Liv couldn't allow the smug fuckery to continue, Loki might start taking it seriously and slide back into his constant superior hauteur, and Liv had hoped--for just a few minutes--that they might've gotten past that.

"Oh, please."  He jerked back, gathering strength, and shoved at Loki, rocking their combined weight over to one side.  

Ouch.  He whacked a shoulder on the bedframe on the way down, and they thudded to the floor in a tangle of sheets and limbs.  Liv suffered a moment of disorientation and then rolled to one side, back flat against the floor.  He felt the impact up through ribs and kidneys, and realized his perceptions were still a little skewed, heightened, confused.  He shoved himself to a sitting position and stared down at Loki.  He realized something, maybe the physical exertion, maybe Loki's palpable rage (before he'd quashed it under that stupid fucking indifference) had brought out his own anger again.  Heat built in one palm and Liv felt the hiss of flame on fabric before he ground it out.

"So why are you here, you stupid--"  He leaned over and put one hand on Loki's shoulder.  "--fucking--"  He put his other hand on the opposite shoulder, exerting enough pressure to keep him down unless he struggled.  "--idiot?"

[Anonymous]

Shit!

He tucked his chin to his chest to stop his head impacting with the ground. The shocks ran up his back instead. Sharp physical pain diverted him from the dullness of his body. Made him feel a little more alive. He smelt burning and panicked momentarily, imagination running away with him. But there was no fire. The sizzling sound disappeared and Liv pinned him down.

He refused to answer the question. He didn’t want to admit even to himself that he had hoped Liv would build him up again, just by being Liv. The thought flitted around before he grabbed it and obliterated it. “Pfft,” he said. Liv couldn’t make him do anything. He repeated that thought over and over again, acting as a talisman against everything Liv.

“Oh, do you really want to know?” he said, with a hint of challenge. Truth? You can’t handle it. That sort of vibe. Loki smirked. “It’s because I wanted to be close to you.”

No! That was a little too close to the truth. Dangerously close. Because he did seek Liv out. He wanted to be close to Liv to make him feel better. That was not the material for a joke, even if he had meant it in a difference context. Because, frankly, the sexual tension was insignificant. The barrier he had made for himself crashed down instantly. Vulnerable again to being read. He didn’t want to be understood- that was just more for Liv to use against him. Fucking Liv. Fucking … fuck. He should stop thinking fuck. Would lead to thoughts of the act of fucking- aww fuck. Even more annoying that he didn't use fuck that much unless he was around Liv. He shouldn't have that kind of influence.

He didn’t want to acknowledge that fact that he was dependent on Liv for something. Whatever it was. Sense of wellbeing? That was stupid. That was twisted. He retaliated physically to distract himself.

Loki reached for Liv’s shoulders, pulling him to the side. Freed, he pinned Liv to the floor, one hand on the small of his back until he sat on top of him. He grabbed one of Liv’s wrists and pressed it into a swan’s neck lock. He hoped it hurt.

“You wanted me here. I know you did. You didn’t try very hard to make me leave,” he attempted to snipe back. Make Liv uncomfortable. “What’s the deal there, Livos?”

[Anonymous]

"Pffth--"  Liv sputtered, face pressed to the carpet, wincing at the pain of Loki's hold.  His wrist, leveraged unnaturally, twitched in Loki's grasp.  He tried to pull free, bringing his other hand around behind his back to flail at Loki, but it seemed like the Pilot had made at least half a recovery--he wasn't budging.  The Power Of... Annoyance, possibly.  

He had truly caught Liv by surprise.  Liv hadn't had time to think anything but what before he'd found himself choking on floor lint.  In retrospect, probably just another part of Loki's game, keeping him off-balance with pretended emotional vulnerability, but there had been an odd note in his voice.  

Ugh.  Too much seriousness for so early in the morning.  However early it was.  Too early.  Liv twitched his arm in Loki's grasp and tried to shift his weight, but Loki had really gotten him in a tough hold.  

"Because--"  It was hard to talk with his face pressed to the floor.  Liv strained his neck upward and managed to turn his head, settling so his cheek scraped against the rug.  It smelled like old peanuts.  He should have it cleaned.  Fuck, little spikes of pain were shooting up the nerves in his arm, he could feel it in his teeth.  

"Because I am madly in love with you," he said, and wrenched his arm out of Loki's momentarily slackened grip.  He still couldn't get up, so he just let both arms flop against the floor.  "... obviously."  He let his whole body relax, though he didn't like being pinned, while his ribcage and spine vibrated under Loki's weight.  His weak laughter was only half-forced.  "--c'mon, Raz, let me up, I must needs groom myself so I can go out and brag."

[Anonymous]

Loki’s grip slackened in response. In horror. Then his hands curled around empty air, fists forming. He resented Liv for trying to stop the fight before he had an opportunity to respond and retort. Retreating with a slight advantage. What a bastard. He was tempted to drive his elbow as hard as possible between Liv’s shoulder blades in response to his laughing. Because this was no laughing matter. This was a serious business, trying to determine each other’s standings.

They were a tense couple of seconds when Loki remained silent and refused to move, his mind still turning and humming with restlessness, disappointment, need. He wasn’t in any state to continue fighting. Neither was Liv, even if he was better off. Maybe Liv was actually being sensible rather than indulging in this little power game. Because if Loki accepted his disguised offer to stand down, it would be by Liv’s grace that he walked away unhurt.

Just take it. Leave it for another day where he could actually do himself credit and properly kick the shit out of Liv. Reluctantly, he crawled off Liv’s back and struggled to his feet. He poked Liv in the side with his foot, threatening his unstable balance as he did so. He rocked back onto his other foot to stabilise himself, before taking tentative steps towards the bed, where he sat heavily.

“How long Astrophel? I need to know.”

“An hour or two.”

“Thank you.”

Loki recovered his jacket and put it on over his red shirt, crumpled from his night’s sleep in it. He rubbed one hand over his eyes tiredly. “Go on and groom, even though you’ll never look the part as hard as you try,” he said. “I suppose that’s also a hint for me to go.” Even though Liv probably wouldn’t mind him staying and watching because he was screwed like that. And he would love to just lie down somewhere- he dreaded the idea of walking back to his apartment. He stood up, wobbled a little bit, then started towards the door.

[Anonymous]

What a pathetic fight that'd been.  Liv could've pushed it, but he didn't really want to, and Loki would only fold up anyway, he could tell.  Sick on Dragon, no good.  There would be no fun in it, it'd humiliate both of them.

"Yes, that was a hint,"  he said, heavily sarcastic.  He pushed himself upright and tried to rake one hand through his hair.  It wouldn't go, it'd gotten matted with sweat.  He really did need a shower.

"That was a hint.  The five times I told you to fuck off were also hints."  He got to his feet and headed for the closet in search of a clean towel.  There had to be one somewhere, though his Dragontesting had put a damper on the last few days, over the memory of anything as mundane as when he'd last done his laundry.  He found one and slung it over his shoulder, then leaned out of the closet to search out Loki.

"Toodles," he said, wiggling his fingers at him.  Have fun making sweet Dragon love, he didn't add, since he'd done enough.  Loki had done enough just by coming by.  The few minutes of understanding they had approached undermined all of his social snubbing.  He might be cruel to Liv in public, and Liv might be cruel back, but...

Well, in public and private.  But only mostly.  He could tell.  Besides, it was fun.

The door slammed shut behind Loki and the lock clicked back into place.

Liv went to take a shower, blowing a half-whistle out from between his teeth.  A Pilot now.  Hey.  Imagine that.  Today he would tell everyone, and wear whatever he wanted.