[ jens spends a month after his first meeting with sasha wondering how long it will be until he can go back. jens has spent many a night pestering strangers into offering directions or calling him a taxi, but there's something about their encounter in particular that doesn't seem keen to leave him. it settles somewhere in his chest instead, and almost sparks with urgency whenever his brain slips back into the memory. jens fritters away a week negotiating a job, has a weekend to consider calling sasha without occasion or explanation, spends some time working in toronto, and even wanders through france and over into switzerland for a good friend and client of his, but his presence isn't immediately required in madrid.
three and a half weeks later when it is, when he finally pulls himself to an alley not unlike the one he'd found himself in before and hurriedly handles a quick and clean weapons exchange, he calls sasha, happily and unapologetically. and maybe it's a little awkward at first, the fact that that stranger who'd dragged his dripping self through sasha's apartment and casually asked him if he'd like to do some vacationing together sometime has unceremoniously reached out in a way that is only slightly less weird than the first time, but in the end, it's good. very good, in jens' opinion; good to hear sasha's voice and better still to hear sasha's voice agree to see him again.
the late afternoon had held such things as uncertain handshakes that didn't quite convey whatever emotions thrummed under their skins, a restaurant jens was entirely underdressed for in a grey t-shirt and his canvas backpack, jens grinning over a plate of rigatoni at the way sasha's eyes hung too long on some sharp edge to jens' face, and quiet, easy conversation that both explained very little and spoke volumes about the odd and incredible circumstances that had lead them both to be there, jens' knee bumping against sasha's beneath the table. all good things.
the evening is balmy rather than rain-heavy when they leave the restaurant, and while jens doesn't place much faith in superstition, in this calm and comfortable state he doesn't have any reservations about taking that as a good sign. before sasha has a chance to begin good-byes (not that jens thinks he's particularly impatient for that kind of exchange), jens offers to walk him home, smiling a warm, pleasant smile to match the night around them. sasha seems unsurprisingly flustered at first (god, jens is fond of him), but he doesn't hesitate long. so that's what they do.
now, after walking a block or two in amiable silence with their shoulders close enough to brush with every second step, jens turns to look at him, mouth quirking at the flush high on sasha's cheeks, a sight that he's quite quickly becoming a huge fan of. he's becoming a huge fan of all of this, actually. ]
You seem happy. [ not quite a question, but more of a pleased observation, said with this undisguised softness that should convey just how happy jens himself is. ]
[ oh, how long sasha had been waiting for him to call.
the first week and a half, he couldn't stop staring at his phone. it occurred to him, more than once, that perhaps it wouldn't hurt to be the one to make the first move, but as hard as he tries not to let shyness get the best of him, sometimes it wins. it's easy for sasha to consider himself a burden, or bothersome, a homey and self-contained creature to the bright, vivid personality of jens, a wanderer, someone always on the move. without him there, right in front of him, sasha finds it a lot easier to pick over his perceived flaws rather than give into impulses. the same impulse that barely hesitated to agree to swap numbers, the impulse that kept his cheeks pink for hours even after jens left.
it was ridiculous. the situation had been crazy from the get go, and a very reasonable, sensible part of sasha says it's lucky he didn't get murdered, while another giddy part says he got something much better.
by the time two weeks slide by, sasha checks his phone less. he tells himself he missed his opportunity to be proactive and call jens himself. he still bristles with excitement whenever he gets a call; that it's never jens' name on the screen bothers him more than it should. or, he tells himself that at least, just to try and make himself feel less daft about the whole thing.
all through the dinner, he wonders how this is real. how could have such bizarre circumstances have led to this? (the call had had him stumbling and slipping like a baby deer on thin ice, to start with. he'd been so overjoyed to receive it that he briefly forgot how to speak at all, and somehow by the time he found his tongue they were going on what sounded suspiciously like a date.) every time jens' knee bumps against his, it's like an electric jolt that reminds him how tangible this is. it seems silly to feel so doubtful that it would be, but in the month since they first met, sasha has had plenty of time to convince himself that their meeting had been a dream. but it wasn't, and neither is this.
when jens offers to walk him home, sasha is relieved beyond belief, though the pink flooding his cheeks might suggest otherwise. he'd been thinking of what possible excuses he could make so that this didn't have to end, but this is far better than anything he was cooking up. he smiles, nods wordlessly at first before he remembers his words and confirms, softly, that yes, he'd like that. ]
I've been told I give myself away quite easily, [ sasha murmurs, the corners of his mouth turned up as he sneaks a quick glance in jens' direction. ] I am, though, yes.
[ he lets their shoulders brush again, each touch lighting something far warmer than the air around him beneath his skin. ]
What about you?
[ he thinks that jens looks happy, too. sounds it. ]
[ this is undoubtedly a date. they might not have called it that over the phone, simply to avoid the uncertainty that such a title might inspire for two people who know very little of each other and only know that small bit because of a bizarre coincidence, but it's most certainly a date. jens hopes that his endless smiling over dinner and the closeness he's cautiously offered sasha all night have been obvious clues, but he's quite convinced sasha's caught on if his endearing nervousness and endless blushing is any evidence. though, jens quite clearly remembers that sasha's cheeks are often pink, no matter the situation.
still, sasha has let jens knock their knees together all evening, didn't show any signs of discomfort when jens touched his wrist to get his attention as they'd left, and now he's leaning into jens as they walk, clearly unafraid to let jens into his small, warm world. given the opportunity, jens won't hesitate to press into that warmth, eyes bright and pale at once as he looks at sasha, that fond and boyish quirk ever-present at the corner of his mouth. ]
Heart on your sleeve and all that. [ jens has always liked the expression, though much of sasha's heart makes itself obvious in his face, in the way he lets his happiness show in careful ways. the smile tugging at his mouth just so is a perfect example.
when he's asked the question, he pretends to consider the answer closely, lips pursed but still smiling as he glances away from sasha and down the street instead, idly adjusting the straps of his backpack. really, he doesn't need even a second to think about it. is he happy? he's extremely happy. happy and awake and quiet inside, which is not always an easy feat. of course, he is almost buzzing with thoughts of sasha and this date and the apartment waiting - for them? - not far away, but there's nothing to weigh him down at the moment. it's just this and that absolutely makes him happy. when he decides he's held them both in suspense long enough, his gaze returns to sasha, hovering over his mouth a moment. he smiles wider now, laughing lightly. he leans into sasha's shoulder a little more, a playful nudge. ]
Yeah, I'm happy. I hope you can tell.
[ jens is not sure he could make it any more obvious without taking sasha's hand in his or tugging him to a stop and kissing him.
he may have already considered the possibilities of both. ]
[ if it sounds like a date and knocks knees like a date, then it's definitely a date.
although it nagged at him to tell someone, sasha never mentioned to his friends about that middle of the night encounter. they were practical, reasonable folk; they'd tell him he was mad for letting a stranger waltz into his home without the slightest thought, not revel in the bizarre, unusual romance of it all. that, and sasha wasn't sure it had been real, as mentioned. he could have recounted it as if it were a dream, but funnily enough, he expects the reaction would have been much the same. perhaps as much as sasha is relieved that he hadn't imagined any of it, he's also relieved that the tangible spark of attraction remains. jens gave a little, and sasha gave back enough that they established interest so simply, so easily. no fuss, just careful, unashamed honesty.
the smile that's ever present on jens' face begs to be kissed. ]
On all sleeves imaginable, [ he confirms, with a soft laugh.
when jens pretends to think, sasha sneaks another glance at him, lips pulled in slightly as he tries to subdue the childishly pleased smile that keeps threatening to burst onto his face. not that he thinks jens would mind if he started grinning goofily at him, but sasha would like to think he's capable of holding at least one card to his chest. he knows that jens is teasing, pretending, but it suitably builds the tension well enough, and the nudge is received with another laugh and a suitable nudge in return. ]
I might have picked up on it. You don't have a very telling smile, after all.
[ except it's been wonderfully telling all evening, and it makes sasha's stomach twist into knots.
a brief pause passes between them as sasha fidget very slightly, swinging both his arms behind him and clasping his hands together to stop them from fiddling with the hem of his shirt or flapping too wildly as he talks. he's perfectly aware that the admission on the tip of his tongue might make him seem a little daft, but frankly, their circumstances should allow for daftness. besides, jens doesn't strike sasha as the type that would brush off his sillier considerations as nothing. ]
I'm really glad you called, you know. I'd honestly been wondering if maybe it had all been a dream, the way we met.
[ jens, too, has kept their bizarre meeting to himself, but moreso because he doesn't really have anyone to tell. if he were to tell anyone, it would be clay, but he's entirely used to jens running into strangers at seemingly inopportune times all over the world and making these short, intense connections. jens has struck up conversations in bus stops while taking shelter from hail storms and hitch-hiked for the sheer amusement of it many times over, and so a new story about a new man and his warm apartment would not inspire much of a reaction. though, of course, this time is different; this time jens came back. yet, his brother knows him and the oddities of his life too well, and jens had no real desire to remind clay once again just how different they are.
so sasha has been jens' little secret, and he's quite liked it that way. he's used to keeping secrets, many of which he might entertain thoughts of offering up to others, but sasha is one he doesn't mind keeping. this secret, unlike that of his family, is for jens and jens only, and it's special in that way.
sasha himself is special, too. it's a fact that he constantly seems to remind jens of, especially now when he laughs softly, his delight almost tangible. jens honestly feels giddy with it - god, how old is he again? - and his smile is not going anywhere. it can't, not when sasha is nudging him back like that, the press of his arm warm. ]
I'll have to be more obvious about it then. [ his smile transforms into a grin. he'll let his cheeks ache and ache if that will get the message across.
they walk in silence for a moment or two, and jens observes the admittedly endearing way that sasha keeps himself small, holding parts of himself in. his intertwined fingers hint at shyness and a reluctance to let himself become too engrossed in a moment of nervous energy, and jens thinks about holding sasha's hands for him, stilling him with thumbs brushed against the backs of his hands.
sasha's words catch him off guard, and for a moment, he's not sure how to respond to that. a dream, strange and hazy and yet entirely memorable, the smallest details recalled with startling clarity when one least expected it. his expression softens, brows lifting in the quiet question of really? because... because the admission sounds very innocent and wholly genuine. jens wets his lip as some part of his heart melts just a little, and he laughs airily, but not because he thinks this silly. quite the opposite. ]
Well, [ he stops and tries to find the words. he's not sure how to explain what he's thinking. it's possible he can't eventually: ] I'll admit, I am pretty dreamy.
[ all his life, sasha has operated in small circles. handfuls of friends that rarely changed in configuration, careful, cautious steps taken in directions only when he knows that certain people aren't looking. it's not that he doesn't have anyone to tell about jens; now that this evening has happened, he can tell friends at the university that he's been on a date, that he's met someone he really likes, and turn bright pink at their inevitable enthusiasm for such a development. but his family?
he remembers with stunning clarity how terrified he'd been the first time he'd kissed another boy, the way it set a thrill through him the same way that kissing a girl had, how he'd agonised over that thrill and wondered if it was wrong, because his parents had insinuated as much in idle, throwaway conversations. his sisters — there's a possibility he could chance it with them, but he's not brave enough to dare. maybe he doesn't give them enough credit. in the end, madrid is far enough away from his family that he feels less suffocated by the fear of what they'd think of him, if they knew that men and women both alike could set his pulse fluttering, if they looked at him right, brushed his shoulder just so.
the way jens does.
sasha falls into like very easily. he attaches very firmly to others whilst trying his hardest not to let it show too much. the thought of becoming bothersome or irritating frightens him awfully, but is constantly in battle with his natural inclination to express every emotion that flickers into his mind. years of practice have made him something of an expert at managing it, but not at changing the fact that it happens. that he's only met jens twice, and yet he'd be perfectly happy to let this man step into his personal space and kiss him senseless. or to be the one doing that, in fact. for all that he worries about how he comes across to others, sasha isn't terribly oblivious; quite the opposite. the fact that whatever is felt here is reciprocated doesn't require a rocket scientist to figure it out. ]
And I'll have to start paying more attention.
[ somewhat abruptly, sasha bursts into laughter. as much as he tries to dilute certain outward emotions, it's sometimes unexpected when his restraints start falling away, or when he can't catch himself in time. it's a bright, young sound, slightly muffled by the way sasha slaps his hand over his mouth, ducking his head with faint embarrassment, though he doesn't apologise for it. ]
That — I don't know what I was expecting you to say, but it wasn't that. [ the sentence peters out into more soft, huffing laughs as he shakes his head, pulling in his lips slightly as he stares at jens with incredulous brightness. ] That was terrible.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2016-05-06 03:44 am (UTC)three and a half weeks later when it is, when he finally pulls himself to an alley not unlike the one he'd found himself in before and hurriedly handles a quick and clean weapons exchange, he calls sasha, happily and unapologetically. and maybe it's a little awkward at first, the fact that that stranger who'd dragged his dripping self through sasha's apartment and casually asked him if he'd like to do some vacationing together sometime has unceremoniously reached out in a way that is only slightly less weird than the first time, but in the end, it's good. very good, in jens' opinion; good to hear sasha's voice and better still to hear sasha's voice agree to see him again.
the late afternoon had held such things as uncertain handshakes that didn't quite convey whatever emotions thrummed under their skins, a restaurant jens was entirely underdressed for in a grey t-shirt and his canvas backpack, jens grinning over a plate of rigatoni at the way sasha's eyes hung too long on some sharp edge to jens' face, and quiet, easy conversation that both explained very little and spoke volumes about the odd and incredible circumstances that had lead them both to be there, jens' knee bumping against sasha's beneath the table. all good things.
the evening is balmy rather than rain-heavy when they leave the restaurant, and while jens doesn't place much faith in superstition, in this calm and comfortable state he doesn't have any reservations about taking that as a good sign. before sasha has a chance to begin good-byes (not that jens thinks he's particularly impatient for that kind of exchange), jens offers to walk him home, smiling a warm, pleasant smile to match the night around them. sasha seems unsurprisingly flustered at first (god, jens is fond of him), but he doesn't hesitate long. so that's what they do.
now, after walking a block or two in amiable silence with their shoulders close enough to brush with every second step, jens turns to look at him, mouth quirking at the flush high on sasha's cheeks, a sight that he's quite quickly becoming a huge fan of. he's becoming a huge fan of all of this, actually. ]
You seem happy. [ not quite a question, but more of a pleased observation, said with this undisguised softness that should convey just how happy jens himself is. ]
no subject
Date: 2016-05-06 08:08 pm (UTC)the first week and a half, he couldn't stop staring at his phone. it occurred to him, more than once, that perhaps it wouldn't hurt to be the one to make the first move, but as hard as he tries not to let shyness get the best of him, sometimes it wins. it's easy for sasha to consider himself a burden, or bothersome, a homey and self-contained creature to the bright, vivid personality of jens, a wanderer, someone always on the move. without him there, right in front of him, sasha finds it a lot easier to pick over his perceived flaws rather than give into impulses. the same impulse that barely hesitated to agree to swap numbers, the impulse that kept his cheeks pink for hours even after jens left.
it was ridiculous. the situation had been crazy from the get go, and a very reasonable, sensible part of sasha says it's lucky he didn't get murdered, while another giddy part says he got something much better.
by the time two weeks slide by, sasha checks his phone less. he tells himself he missed his opportunity to be proactive and call jens himself. he still bristles with excitement whenever he gets a call; that it's never jens' name on the screen bothers him more than it should. or, he tells himself that at least, just to try and make himself feel less daft about the whole thing.
all through the dinner, he wonders how this is real. how could have such bizarre circumstances have led to this? (the call had had him stumbling and slipping like a baby deer on thin ice, to start with. he'd been so overjoyed to receive it that he briefly forgot how to speak at all, and somehow by the time he found his tongue they were going on what sounded suspiciously like a date.) every time jens' knee bumps against his, it's like an electric jolt that reminds him how tangible this is. it seems silly to feel so doubtful that it would be, but in the month since they first met, sasha has had plenty of time to convince himself that their meeting had been a dream. but it wasn't, and neither is this.
when jens offers to walk him home, sasha is relieved beyond belief, though the pink flooding his cheeks might suggest otherwise. he'd been thinking of what possible excuses he could make so that this didn't have to end, but this is far better than anything he was cooking up. he smiles, nods wordlessly at first before he remembers his words and confirms, softly, that yes, he'd like that. ]
I've been told I give myself away quite easily, [ sasha murmurs, the corners of his mouth turned up as he sneaks a quick glance in jens' direction. ] I am, though, yes.
[ he lets their shoulders brush again, each touch lighting something far warmer than the air around him beneath his skin. ]
What about you?
[ he thinks that jens looks happy, too. sounds it. ]
no subject
Date: 2016-05-06 11:47 pm (UTC)still, sasha has let jens knock their knees together all evening, didn't show any signs of discomfort when jens touched his wrist to get his attention as they'd left, and now he's leaning into jens as they walk, clearly unafraid to let jens into his small, warm world. given the opportunity, jens won't hesitate to press into that warmth, eyes bright and pale at once as he looks at sasha, that fond and boyish quirk ever-present at the corner of his mouth. ]
Heart on your sleeve and all that. [ jens has always liked the expression, though much of sasha's heart makes itself obvious in his face, in the way he lets his happiness show in careful ways. the smile tugging at his mouth just so is a perfect example.
when he's asked the question, he pretends to consider the answer closely, lips pursed but still smiling as he glances away from sasha and down the street instead, idly adjusting the straps of his backpack. really, he doesn't need even a second to think about it. is he happy? he's extremely happy. happy and awake and quiet inside, which is not always an easy feat. of course, he is almost buzzing with thoughts of sasha and this date and the apartment waiting - for them? - not far away, but there's nothing to weigh him down at the moment. it's just this and that absolutely makes him happy. when he decides he's held them both in suspense long enough, his gaze returns to sasha, hovering over his mouth a moment. he smiles wider now, laughing lightly. he leans into sasha's shoulder a little more, a playful nudge. ]
Yeah, I'm happy. I hope you can tell.
[ jens is not sure he could make it any more obvious without taking sasha's hand in his or tugging him to a stop and kissing him.
he may have already considered the possibilities of both. ]
no subject
Date: 2016-05-08 12:28 am (UTC)although it nagged at him to tell someone, sasha never mentioned to his friends about that middle of the night encounter. they were practical, reasonable folk; they'd tell him he was mad for letting a stranger waltz into his home without the slightest thought, not revel in the bizarre, unusual romance of it all. that, and sasha wasn't sure it had been real, as mentioned. he could have recounted it as if it were a dream, but funnily enough, he expects the reaction would have been much the same. perhaps as much as sasha is relieved that he hadn't imagined any of it, he's also relieved that the tangible spark of attraction remains. jens gave a little, and sasha gave back enough that they established interest so simply, so easily. no fuss, just careful, unashamed honesty.
the smile that's ever present on jens' face begs to be kissed. ]
On all sleeves imaginable, [ he confirms, with a soft laugh.
when jens pretends to think, sasha sneaks another glance at him, lips pulled in slightly as he tries to subdue the childishly pleased smile that keeps threatening to burst onto his face. not that he thinks jens would mind if he started grinning goofily at him, but sasha would like to think he's capable of holding at least one card to his chest. he knows that jens is teasing, pretending, but it suitably builds the tension well enough, and the nudge is received with another laugh and a suitable nudge in return. ]
I might have picked up on it. You don't have a very telling smile, after all.
[ except it's been wonderfully telling all evening, and it makes sasha's stomach twist into knots.
a brief pause passes between them as sasha fidget very slightly, swinging both his arms behind him and clasping his hands together to stop them from fiddling with the hem of his shirt or flapping too wildly as he talks. he's perfectly aware that the admission on the tip of his tongue might make him seem a little daft, but frankly, their circumstances should allow for daftness. besides, jens doesn't strike sasha as the type that would brush off his sillier considerations as nothing. ]
I'm really glad you called, you know. I'd honestly been wondering if maybe it had all been a dream, the way we met.
no subject
Date: 2016-05-08 03:44 am (UTC)so sasha has been jens' little secret, and he's quite liked it that way. he's used to keeping secrets, many of which he might entertain thoughts of offering up to others, but sasha is one he doesn't mind keeping. this secret, unlike that of his family, is for jens and jens only, and it's special in that way.
sasha himself is special, too. it's a fact that he constantly seems to remind jens of, especially now when he laughs softly, his delight almost tangible. jens honestly feels giddy with it - god, how old is he again? - and his smile is not going anywhere. it can't, not when sasha is nudging him back like that, the press of his arm warm. ]
I'll have to be more obvious about it then. [ his smile transforms into a grin. he'll let his cheeks ache and ache if that will get the message across.
they walk in silence for a moment or two, and jens observes the admittedly endearing way that sasha keeps himself small, holding parts of himself in. his intertwined fingers hint at shyness and a reluctance to let himself become too engrossed in a moment of nervous energy, and jens thinks about holding sasha's hands for him, stilling him with thumbs brushed against the backs of his hands.
sasha's words catch him off guard, and for a moment, he's not sure how to respond to that. a dream, strange and hazy and yet entirely memorable, the smallest details recalled with startling clarity when one least expected it. his expression softens, brows lifting in the quiet question of really? because... because the admission sounds very innocent and wholly genuine. jens wets his lip as some part of his heart melts just a little, and he laughs airily, but not because he thinks this silly. quite the opposite. ]
Well, [ he stops and tries to find the words. he's not sure how to explain what he's thinking. it's possible he can't eventually: ] I'll admit, I am pretty dreamy.
no subject
Date: 2016-05-20 11:29 pm (UTC)he remembers with stunning clarity how terrified he'd been the first time he'd kissed another boy, the way it set a thrill through him the same way that kissing a girl had, how he'd agonised over that thrill and wondered if it was wrong, because his parents had insinuated as much in idle, throwaway conversations. his sisters — there's a possibility he could chance it with them, but he's not brave enough to dare. maybe he doesn't give them enough credit. in the end, madrid is far enough away from his family that he feels less suffocated by the fear of what they'd think of him, if they knew that men and women both alike could set his pulse fluttering, if they looked at him right, brushed his shoulder just so.
the way jens does.
sasha falls into like very easily. he attaches very firmly to others whilst trying his hardest not to let it show too much. the thought of becoming bothersome or irritating frightens him awfully, but is constantly in battle with his natural inclination to express every emotion that flickers into his mind. years of practice have made him something of an expert at managing it, but not at changing the fact that it happens. that he's only met jens twice, and yet he'd be perfectly happy to let this man step into his personal space and kiss him senseless. or to be the one doing that, in fact. for all that he worries about how he comes across to others, sasha isn't terribly oblivious; quite the opposite. the fact that whatever is felt here is reciprocated doesn't require a rocket scientist to figure it out. ]
And I'll have to start paying more attention.
[ somewhat abruptly, sasha bursts into laughter. as much as he tries to dilute certain outward emotions, it's sometimes unexpected when his restraints start falling away, or when he can't catch himself in time. it's a bright, young sound, slightly muffled by the way sasha slaps his hand over his mouth, ducking his head with faint embarrassment, though he doesn't apologise for it. ]
That — I don't know what I was expecting you to say, but it wasn't that. [ the sentence peters out into more soft, huffing laughs as he shakes his head, pulling in his lips slightly as he stares at jens with incredulous brightness. ] That was terrible.