ship status + action

[piacularis]

For a brief period of about ten minutes, the lights all over the ship flicker and fade before returning to normal.

Several hours later, a very tense young blond man dressed entirely in black leather with an angry scar over the left side of his face can be found trying the cabin doors. He’s methodical, moves floor by floor, tests each door in turn; locked doors are discarded in the testing sequence, but any cabin left unlocked will find Mello entering and searching for something in a similarly systematic manner before moving on to the next. Maybe the next one is yours?

[hit me up in prose or brackets, or if you want a custom starter!]

Comments

[smokingguns]

All of those sins, if left in Matt's hands, would've been put off on someone else's shoulders. Mello wasn't capable of them if he wasn't pushed to it, and they had been pushed hard. Now they were at a standstill so far from home, far enough to make sure that none of those things mattered. Not Wammy's, not past sins, just the acceptance of the lips he had aimed for. The simple acceptance was enough to make his heart thump double and out of beat for a frame or two, sighing contently before he heard the brevity of Mello's voice. A voice that brought two words to his ears and those two words were enough for him. This was ultimately what he wanted, too, Mello's acceptance to know that even if he tried to throw a stone at a proverbial deer, Matt wouldn't have left him once he found him.

The more solid a reply was Mello's lips finding his in a lingering, questing kiss. Just like Mello had, Matt accepted him. Had accepted the touch that pushed boundaries at the union of their mouths and every boundary thus far that Mello had pushed, Matt allowed. Everything felt electric and he only wished he had a little better practice at this if only to know that he actually could convey himself through this act. The slide of his gloved hand finds the back of Mello's head and his teeth find Mello's lips with soft nibbles when he wasn't taking advantage of the situation he had been offered. Matt wouldn't ever get tired of Mello's kiss and the elevated rise and fall of his chest had him claiming smaller, but no less eager kisses that give him time between to catch his breath.

[piacularis]

For a long stretch of moments, everything falls into background static except for this cabin, Matt, and their deepening exchange of kisses and shared breaths. They fall into a rhythm of exploring touch, and for Mello, it's peaceful in a way he hasn't often been able to obtain. It feels like the most natural thing to be standing here liplocked, until a small part of Mello's traitorous brain whispers a reminder that he's dead, Matt is dead, and it's all his fault, and that fleeting sense of peaceful bliss sinks into the churning guilt settled in the pit of his stomach.

What a fucking mood killer.

Mello slowly pulls back from the last kiss and sighs. He has no right to enjoy this as much as he had been. Gently, he traces his thumb along the edge of Matt's jawline.

"I'm tired, Matt." Mello has been fighting for years, and it should all be over now, but it's not, and a wave of exhaustion hits him like a pile of bricks. Admitting this aloud is exposing a vulnerability, but Mello trusts Matt not to exploit it. "I'll stay here for a bit. OK?"

[smokingguns]

Matt knew from the way that Mello pulled back, something had changed. Either Mello's mood or something he had done. The gentle touch of a thumb on his jaw told him it wasn't something he had done. If it was his fault it wouldn't be a thumb at his jaw. Tired seemed reasonable as well and while Matt had a little more of a moment or two to catch his breath he set his forehead against Mello's to nod lightly. "Long as you want."

For the time being, he shifted so his hand was lightly resting above Mello's and leading them away from his face. He still squeezed them softly. "I'll keep watch. You get some rest."