thecapitol | [closed] it's you, babe

Entry tags:

[closed] it's you, babe

Who| Oliver + Bastien
What| Some TLC leads to a rekindled flame
Where| Oceana's workshop
When| hella backdated to September, during the blackout
Warnings/Notes| Language, references to violence

It seems like the cowardly thing to do, but when you're a man in a dress, you grow up learning the hard way that sometimes you just need to stay safe. So the minute the lights go off--everything goes off, not even the quiet hum of power that's always there in the background--Oceana hightails it to her workroom, which just so happens to have a four-inch steel sliding door among other convenient safety features. And there she stays, trying to stay calm while getting out of her gig. Brushing out her wig, carefully wiping away the makeup. Taking off the padding, the corset, the stockings. Turning back into Oliver.

And Oliver emerges nervous and trembling, terrified that the rioting he can hear out in the halls will somehow reach him in here. That one of his Tributes will somehow turn on him, decide to take out their anger on the drag queen who dresses them up for the benefit of the crowds. So he waits, curled up on a sofa with a closed magazine in his lap, until the inevitable happens--until someone pounds on his door.

And it's Stephen, clutching Holly in his arms and explaining what's happened, and Oliver feels sick to his stomach as he pulls Holly into his own skinny arms, bruised and bleeding. He'll take care of her, his perpetually delightful friend, the one who'd never hurt a fly, harmed at the hands of one of her own tributes. He feels sick; how could anyone do this to someone so sweet, so kind?

Oliver sits Holly down on the sofa, carefully, carefully, fingers fluttering from the poor thing's shoulders to her face, wanting to probe but not to hurt. He realizes that his mouth has gone completely dry.

"What--" He licks his lips, voice cracking, tries to start again. "What happened? Bastien, what did they do to you?" Because it's not Holly, this isn't Holly, battered and bloody, this is the man that Oliver has been in love with since he was seventeen, this is Bastien, and Oliver needs to help him. Needs to fix him.

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Bastien would be glad that Oliver doesn't mention the broken rib, because he wouldn't be able to resist the urge to look down if that were the case. It's not a way he wants to see himself, as broken as he tends to feel on certain bad days. As it is, Oliver's words do make him feel better and lighter, somehow. It's enough to take the edge off, even if a little.

"I'm sure you can," he says, in a tone that suggests he doesn't believe that Oliver wouldn't be able to. "I've s-seen some of those outfits you put out into the arena. They're flawless, baby. Just like you."

Drag queens are notorious for flirting at the worst possible times, but somehow this is all coming naturally to Bastien.

Oliver rolls those big ol' eyes of his good-naturedly, fussing over Bastien's tights. They're fucked up, so he reaches for a nail file and uses it to gently cut them away from Bastien's waist and then off of his legs.

"You have the worst fucking timing ever," he murmurs. "Making me fall in love with you all over again at a time like this, when I can't even get you naked for a good reason." There. Making light of a shitty situation, that's a good way to ease some of Bastien's upset. He can do this. They can do this--together.

Bastien is beyond the ability to feel modest right now, not that he particularly would under normal circumstances. He's too comfortable with Oliver to even care, but he does wince as the tights come off, jostling his wounds a little as he helps lift to get them off. But it's Oliver's words that really jostle him- because he laughs and it hurts, but he can't help it.

"Don't worry, we've got all the t-time in the world," he says, his voice a little raspy from coughing after all that laughing. "After tonight, you can have me any way you want me."

Oliver's trying so hard to be careful, but it's still hard to see Bastien wince like that. He's pretty sure he'll be okay--he doesn't seem to be dying, or coughing up blood, or anything like that--but he's still inclined to fuss. He knows it'd be the exact same way if the situation were reversed, except Bastien would be fussing and Oliver would be insisting he's too punk for bandages.

He straight-up giggles at Bastien, shaking his head lightly. "Baby, no, try after this month. You're not fucking me with a broken rib."

Bastien has to fake a look of horror at Oliver's response, his mouth dropping open and his eyebrows shooting straight up to heaven. "A month?" He coughs at an unfortunate time, wincing as he does so and further proving Oliver's point. "...Two weeks?" he asks with a little pout to his voice, maybe even pooching his bottom lip out just a little.

Oliver just giggles at how horrified Bastien manages to look, rubbing his back gently as he coughs. "You're not helping your case, here," he quips, but that pout is too cute for him not to budge just a little.

"We'll see what the doctors say in two weeks, and go from there." He leans up to kiss Bastien's forehead. He's not about to let anything happen to this perfect, precious man in front of him--not even himself.

Bastien lets out a huff, annoyed that he had to cough at that exact moment and that Oliver seems so amused by it. Gosh, can anyone blame him for not wanting to wait a month when Oliver is just so... there are no words. There just aren't.

"Fine," he grumbles, deflating a little in a defeated (and pained) manner. It's around that moment that the lights start to flicker to life, and his eyes widen a little. bit. "Oh!" he exclaims. "It looks like things are f-finally going normal again." He lets out a relieved sigh. "I was scared," he admits. "I thought... I thought it was all over." He doesn't say it, but he means he thought maybe the tributes were finally going to take things over, that nothing would return to normal.

He's far too relieved that things are back to normal. But this way, he doesn't risk losing anyone he cares about. Oliver and Jolie, as dangerous as she is right now, are safe. That's really all that matters to him.

Oliver presses another kiss to Bastien's cheek, steering well clear of all those bruises, and then glances up almost in wonderment at the sudden return of the power. The quiet and ever-present hum of life and energy returns, the sound that tends to be forgotten unless it's gone, and immediately Oliver feels more at ease.

"Thank fuck," Oliver mutters, rising and crossing to the steel door to peer through the peephole and out into the hallway. Several Peacekeepers march past, and as much as the sight makes his stomach turn, it also means that things will be back to normal soon. "I'm going to call Medical," he says more loudly, going for his communicator. "Hopefully they'll put you on priority since you're staff."

Bastien lets out a content little hum as Oliver kisses him, and he's pretty sure that it takes away a little bit of the pain. Oliver's kisses are so much better than a dose of morphling could ever be.

He watches as Oliver moves over to look out the door and Bastien can hear the peacekeepers marching by as he does so. It makes him feel safe, but in different sort of way than Oliver does. The kind of safe where he feels tense, like if he steps out of line then suddenly he won't be safe anymore. It's a bit stressful, but he knows this is how it should be.

"I hope so," he murmurs, wanting nothing more than to just get all of this over with so he can ask to sleep on Oliver's couch and just forget everything for a while. "But I won't get m-my hopes up... I'm sure they have lots of people to look after." His expression turns grim, knowing the work the peacekeepers have to do to get everything back under control. "Do you... d-do you think Jolie is safe?" Even though the two of them hadn't ended so well earlier, even though Jolie is doing things she shouldn't, Bastien can't help but worry.

"I'll kick their asses if they try and make you wait," Oliver assures Bastien as he dials, waiting for someone in Medical to answer. Predictably, it takes awhile. Oliver glances up as Bastien asks after Jolie, and he just shakes his head.

"Please. Jolie's the toughest bitch I know. She's fine, I promise you. But we'll call and check on her as soon as these assholes--oh, shit, uh, hi, this is Oliver Gunn--District Nine, yeah, uh, I've got an injured Escort here with me and he needs a doctor like, twenty five minutes ago. Yeah--Bastien Day, District Ten. We're in--oh, yeah, fuck, here, I'll send my location, can you guys send someone now? He's got a broken rib for sure. Alright. Yeah. Thanks--okay, okay, bye."

Oliver heaves a sigh, clicking the communicator shut, and turns to Bastien. That conversation was exhausting in and of itself.

"Right. They're sending someone soon."

There Oliver goes threatening to kick asses again, but this time it's a bit more reassuring than when he'd threatened to go after Eridan. At least this time he knows that Oliver is joking and won't actually do it.

But he's not so sure about Jolie. Bastien has no idea what she's been up to within the last few hours, and considering that this is prime time for rebels, he just hope that Jolie is laying low and not actually doing anything that could get her in trouble. His stomach rolls at the thought, and he tries to put her out of his mind as he listens to Oliver talk on the phone, laughing a little at getting caught insulting them.

It sounds like a stressful call, so he's glad that it's over when it is. "Thanks, boo," he says with a small smile. He reaches out towards Oliver, giving his fingers an impatient little wiggle as he reaches for the other boy. "Hold my haaaand, I miss you."

Obediently, and happily, Oliver crosses back to the sofa, sitting down next to Bastien and taking his hand gently. Without saying anything, he goes ahead and starts planting gentle kisses to the back of it. Lifting his head, he approaches Bastien's ear and murmurs softly.

"I love you. Like, a fucking lot." He's missed being able to say that, he honestly has. And now it's like all that love he's missed out on is overflowing his heart.

Oh, and then there he goes just making his heart flutter up a storm. He isn't expecting Oliver to go that far, but he's glad he does because it's oh so very distracting and takes his mind off all of his worries. His face goes red, and he places a hand on his own cheek, shaking her head in flustered exasperation. "Oh, you..." But he missed hearing it, and being able to say it, too. A whole fucking lot. "Red isn't my color, you've got to stop making me blush like this, baby."

But with Oliver so close after saying that, Bastien can twist a little and press a kiss to his cheek before he moves away. "Which is to say, ditto. Ditty a hundred thousand times."

"But it's so cute," Oliver murmurs back. "I can't help it." Bastien kisses his cheek, and Oliver can't help the little thrill, the little flutter it sends to his stomach. God, it's like he's a sixteen-year-old virgin all over again. Fucking ridiculous.

"Thank god," he can only reply. "Or I'd feel fucking stupid."

Oliver isn't the only one experiencing that little thrill. It's silly, but a part of him is almost... glad... in a weird way, that this all happened. Otherwise, he wouldn't have Oliver in this way. He would always be left with those longing, guilty glances and that feeling of loneliness you get, even when you're with who you want to be. But now he won't have to deal with that anymore.

He giggles, shaking his head. "You'll never have to feel stupid again, th-"

But the words are cut off, because it's at that moment the doors open- there's no polite knock, they just come right in. Even though he's done nothing wrong, he can't help the twinge of fear as the medical team accompanied by a few peacekeepers come in and get to work getting him onto a stretcher to transport him to the hospital. "Don't leave me, please," he says, looking right at Oliver and ignoring everyone else. He knows they might try and separate the two of them, so he just clings to Oliver's hand like it's his only lifeline.

Oliver jolts a little as their little reverie is interrupted by the sudden arrival of medics and peacekeepers. He stands up, trying hard to stay calm, to make sure that nothing comes between the two of them as they load Bastien up.

"Don't worry, babe," he murmurs as they strap a monitoring device around Oliver's wrist. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here."

He's glad that Oliver seems to be staying calm, because suddenly everything is a lot scarier and he needs a rock to hang onto. Luckily, he seems to manage to hang onto Oliver's hand the entire time even as the get him loaded up. "Thank you," he manages to murmur out, suddenly finding it hard to use his words. His pain is greater now that there's so much going on, his whole body just sort of feels like lead. Soon enough, they're on the way to the hospital and thankfully Oliver is right there beside him, which makes it a little easier to handle everything.

Oliver tries his best not to get in the way, and once a medic tries to ask him to get out of the way, which is met with a glare and stubborn refusal. He's going to stay by Bastien's side no matter what; he's not going anywhere unti he's sure that his boyfriend is patched up and going to be okay. As they get ready to take him out the door, Oliver places a kiss on the crown of his head and lets go of his hand.

"Don't worry, Bastien, I'll be right behind you the whole way. I promise." He intends to keep his promise, too. He's determined to be by Bastien's side through this, and they'll both come out better for it.

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[closed] it's you, babe

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