It was Shaun's watch that night, but Shaun was often up late working, so he'd have been up this late anyway. It sort of came with the territory, providing support for teams all over the world. Time zones waited for no man, and all that.
Shaun stretched and stepped away from the computer for a moment, then moved towards the kitchen with his long-empty cup. He refilled the kettle and flicked it on, and leaned on the counter as he scrolled through the latest notifications on his phone. It was a quiet night, which wasn't that unusual, though he expected a disturbance at some point since Desmond's sleep was getting irregular; often interrupted, sometimes loudly so.
Someone cleared their throat from the doorway and Shaun glanced up to see Desmond, frowning at him thoughtfully. He was wearing only a loose white t-shirt and the soft sleep pants Rebecca had purchsed for him before he'd arrived. Shaun glanced at the kettle, but the water wasn't boiling just yet, and Shaun realized he had no idea how long Desmond had been there. There was the possibility that it wasn't Desmond who was looking at him like that, and he slid his phone into his pocket immediately.
"Did you need something?," he asked, careful not to call Desmond by name - if he was experiencing a bleed, something like that could have unknowable consequences.
Desmond cleared his throat and shook his head, slightly, eyes becoming a little more focused. "Couldn't sleep," he said, and nodded at the kettle. "Tea?"
"Yeah. You ah, want a cup?," he asked. It was hard not to fidget without his phone in his hands, so he reached for a cup before Desmond answered.
"Sure," Desmond murmured, finally stepping into the kitchen. He looked nervous, or maybe just unsettled, and he stopped at their little table, hands resting along the edge. "So, um, can I ask you a question?," he mumbled, sounding more unsure than Shaun had ever heard him before.
"I can't promise an answer," Shaun replied, because there were some things he was absolutely not allowed to discuss with Desmond, and there were some he simply didn't want to, but barring those subjects, he'd probably answer honestly.
"Have you... have you ever been in New York?," Desmond asked, and Shaun turned to look at him so sharply that the answer was obvious without him having to speak. Desmond nodded. "Yeah, I thought so. Like, more than a year ago, wasn't it? In June?," he pressed, and Shaun just sort of stared, because he hadn't expected this at all. He'd thought Desmond had forgotten, had tried to forget it himself.
"I, uh, yeah, a... there was a.. a mission," he stuttered, but Desmond just kept nodding, gaze sharp and body tense.
"Yeah, only you said your name was David," Desmond bit out, and he actually sounded angry, which was baffling.
"Well, since you told me you were Mike, I don't think you actually get to be angry about that. Oddly enough, I think we both lied for the same reasons. Sort of," he said, with a shrug. "So what do you want?"
"What do I want?," Desmond asked, as if the question made no sense. "What do I want? Shaun, why didn't you say anything?"
"What does it matter? You didn't say anything! Hell, I thought you'd forgotten, I mean, don't you... you know?," he asked, making some sort of nebulous gesture at Desmond's person that apparently infuriated the man.
"Don't I what, Shaun?," Desmond demanded, releasing the table to stalk around to Shaun. He stopped only a few feet away.
"Don't you do that sort of thing often? I mean, you went along so quickly, I just assumed...," he trailed off, but he faltered, because Desmond was only getting angrier.
"You assumed? What, you think I'm some sort of slut?," he all but shouted, and Shaun held his hands up, because as awful as this was, he absolutely did not want to have witnesses. Desmond apparently agreed, however, because his next words came out in a harsh whisper. "What, like I slept with a new person every night? Fuck you, Shaun!"
Shaun almost laughed, inappropriate as it was, because his brain immediately supplied the response of you already have. "Look, how was I to know? I mean, I don't know, it's New York, and you're, y'know," he gestured again, because Desmond had to know he was hot and Shaun didn't want to have to say it, "And it was... I mean...," he trailed off, because telling Desmond that it had been easy seemed like a bad move.
Desmond, however, had no intentions of letting Shaun off the hook. "It was what?," he demanded, and Shaun sighed.
"It was easy, okay?," he asked, and yeah, that sounded a lot worse when he said it out loud, and it had already sounded bad in his head. Desmond looked like he was ready to shift to a whole new level of offended, so Shaun moved quickly to explain. "I don't mean it like that, I just mean, you know, it's usually not. For me. To have someone, ah, interested," he explained, and Shaun could feel the tips of his ears heating up, knew the rest of his face would soon follow.
Desmond just stared at him for a long time, long after Shaun had broke the gaze because he already felt awful about his assumption now, despite the fact that it had seemed to make the most sense only a few moments before. Desmond relaxed after a moment, though, and laughed quietly. "Yeah,I can see why you'd think that," he said. Shaun wanted to bristle, to defend himself, but that didn't feel quite right here.
"Look, I... y'know, I'm sorry. It was... I don't usually do that sort of thing, and it was mostly Rebecca's idea, and I'm still shocked that it worked." He glanced up at Desmond; most of the anger seemed to have drained from him. "Why... why didn't you say anything? Before?," he asked, and Desmond sighed.
"You were, y'know, a little... you weren't as sober as I knew you should have been. I felt like maybe I took advantage, and if you didn't remember it, I wasn't going to call you out in front of the girls," he said, and Shaun frowned. Suddenly, Desmond's anger made sense, because Shaun hadn't been one hundred percent sober, sure, but he hadn't been incapacitated.
"You didn't take advantage," he murmured. "Desmond, even if I'd never have gone for it on my own, I.. I definitely wanted to." Shaun flushed even further, and he wasn't going to remind Desmond of how eager he'd been once they were in his hotel room. It wasn't that he was embarrassed or regretful, just that he'd been really enthusiastic, and okay, maybe that was a little embarrassing, now. He'd been tipsy enough to be shameless with a total stranger, and he'd really, really liked it.
But Desmond smiled, slow and sincere. "Really? Why wouldn't you have? Gone for it, I mean. I was certain I'd been pretty obvious all night," he murmured, stepping closer, and Shaun swallowed.
"What?," he croaked, because this sudden turn made no sense to him. He couldn't parse Desmond's sly grin, his inviting expression.
"The drinks, the come-ons, the attention I made sure to pay you. Obvious. If you'd been paying attention, that is," he said, and Shaun frowned again, because maybe, yeah, okay, looking back he could kind of see it, but at the time, he'd laughed when Rebecca had said the same thing that very night.
"You...so you do...," he trailed off, because he couldn't finish that sentence. Desmond clearly remembered, after all, but the other option, to suggest that he was still interested seemed presumptuous, despite current evidence to the contrary.
"Yes, Shaun, I do," Desmond replied, stepping that last bit closer. "So, I guess I have an offer of my own. We could do again, probably more than once, if you're still interested." Shaun made a choked sort of noise, because Desmond was practically flush against him at this point, and yes, Shaun was still interested. Definitely still interested. "Or, we can keep pretending it didn't happen. You didn't come to New York, I didn't buy your drinks, we didn't go to your hotel room," he whispered, voice dropping as he leaned closer, lips all but brushing Shaun's ear, "You didn't suck me off against the door and I didn't fuck you through your mattress," he breathed, and Shaun actually whimpered at that, shuddering slightly as every ounce of blood in his body rushed south. Desmond pulled back suddenly, all that lean warmth sudddenly gone, and he smiled like he hadn't just sent Shaun's pulse skyrocketing with only a few words and the press of his body. "Didn't happen," Desmond said, spreading his arms. "But I'm just saying, if you want it to, you know where to find me." Desmond grinned then, all confident invitation, and sauntered out of the kitchen, towards the room that held his bed. Which... was the animus room, and that meant if they did do this, there'd be no hiding it. No forgetting or pretending.
Re: FILL: One Night in New York (2/3?)
Shaun stretched and stepped away from the computer for a moment, then moved towards the kitchen with his long-empty cup. He refilled the kettle and flicked it on, and leaned on the counter as he scrolled through the latest notifications on his phone. It was a quiet night, which wasn't that unusual, though he expected a disturbance at some point since Desmond's sleep was getting irregular; often interrupted, sometimes loudly so.
Someone cleared their throat from the doorway and Shaun glanced up to see Desmond, frowning at him thoughtfully. He was wearing only a loose white t-shirt and the soft sleep pants Rebecca had purchsed for him before he'd arrived. Shaun glanced at the kettle, but the water wasn't boiling just yet, and Shaun realized he had no idea how long Desmond had been there. There was the possibility that it wasn't Desmond who was looking at him like that, and he slid his phone into his pocket immediately.
"Did you need something?," he asked, careful not to call Desmond by name - if he was experiencing a bleed, something like that could have unknowable consequences.
Desmond cleared his throat and shook his head, slightly, eyes becoming a little more focused. "Couldn't sleep," he said, and nodded at the kettle. "Tea?"
"Yeah. You ah, want a cup?," he asked. It was hard not to fidget without his phone in his hands, so he reached for a cup before Desmond answered.
"Sure," Desmond murmured, finally stepping into the kitchen. He looked nervous, or maybe just unsettled, and he stopped at their little table, hands resting along the edge. "So, um, can I ask you a question?," he mumbled, sounding more unsure than Shaun had ever heard him before.
"I can't promise an answer," Shaun replied, because there were some things he was absolutely not allowed to discuss with Desmond, and there were some he simply didn't want to, but barring those subjects, he'd probably answer honestly.
"Have you... have you ever been in New York?," Desmond asked, and Shaun turned to look at him so sharply that the answer was obvious without him having to speak. Desmond nodded. "Yeah, I thought so. Like, more than a year ago, wasn't it? In June?," he pressed, and Shaun just sort of stared, because he hadn't expected this at all. He'd thought Desmond had forgotten, had tried to forget it himself.
"I, uh, yeah, a... there was a.. a mission," he stuttered, but Desmond just kept nodding, gaze sharp and body tense.
"Yeah, only you said your name was David," Desmond bit out, and he actually sounded angry, which was baffling.
"Well, since you told me you were Mike, I don't think you actually get to be angry about that. Oddly enough, I think we both lied for the same reasons. Sort of," he said, with a shrug. "So what do you want?"
"What do I want?," Desmond asked, as if the question made no sense. "What do I want? Shaun, why didn't you say anything?"
"What does it matter? You didn't say anything! Hell, I thought you'd forgotten, I mean, don't you... you know?," he asked, making some sort of nebulous gesture at Desmond's person that apparently infuriated the man.
"Don't I what, Shaun?," Desmond demanded, releasing the table to stalk around to Shaun. He stopped only a few feet away.
"Don't you do that sort of thing often? I mean, you went along so quickly, I just assumed...," he trailed off, but he faltered, because Desmond was only getting angrier.
"You assumed? What, you think I'm some sort of slut?," he all but shouted, and Shaun held his hands up, because as awful as this was, he absolutely did not want to have witnesses. Desmond apparently agreed, however, because his next words came out in a harsh whisper. "What, like I slept with a new person every night? Fuck you, Shaun!"
Shaun almost laughed, inappropriate as it was, because his brain immediately supplied the response of you already have. "Look, how was I to know? I mean, I don't know, it's New York, and you're, y'know," he gestured again, because Desmond had to know he was hot and Shaun didn't want to have to say it, "And it was... I mean...," he trailed off, because telling Desmond that it had been easy seemed like a bad move.
Desmond, however, had no intentions of letting Shaun off the hook. "It was what?," he demanded, and Shaun sighed.
"It was easy, okay?," he asked, and yeah, that sounded a lot worse when he said it out loud, and it had already sounded bad in his head. Desmond looked like he was ready to shift to a whole new level of offended, so Shaun moved quickly to explain. "I don't mean it like that, I just mean, you know, it's usually not. For me. To have someone, ah, interested," he explained, and Shaun could feel the tips of his ears heating up, knew the rest of his face would soon follow.
Desmond just stared at him for a long time, long after Shaun had broke the gaze because he already felt awful about his assumption now, despite the fact that it had seemed to make the most sense only a few moments before. Desmond relaxed after a moment, though, and laughed quietly. "Yeah,I can see why you'd think that," he said. Shaun wanted to bristle, to defend himself, but that didn't feel quite right here.
"Look, I... y'know, I'm sorry. It was... I don't usually do that sort of thing, and it was mostly Rebecca's idea, and I'm still shocked that it worked." He glanced up at Desmond; most of the anger seemed to have drained from him. "Why... why didn't you say anything? Before?," he asked, and Desmond sighed.
"You were, y'know, a little... you weren't as sober as I knew you should have been. I felt like maybe I took advantage, and if you didn't remember it, I wasn't going to call you out in front of the girls," he said, and Shaun frowned. Suddenly, Desmond's anger made sense, because Shaun hadn't been one hundred percent sober, sure, but he hadn't been incapacitated.
"You didn't take advantage," he murmured. "Desmond, even if I'd never have gone for it on my own, I.. I definitely wanted to." Shaun flushed even further, and he wasn't going to remind Desmond of how eager he'd been once they were in his hotel room. It wasn't that he was embarrassed or regretful, just that he'd been really enthusiastic, and okay, maybe that was a little embarrassing, now. He'd been tipsy enough to be shameless with a total stranger, and he'd really, really liked it.
But Desmond smiled, slow and sincere. "Really? Why wouldn't you have? Gone for it, I mean. I was certain I'd been pretty obvious all night," he murmured, stepping closer, and Shaun swallowed.
"What?," he croaked, because this sudden turn made no sense to him. He couldn't parse Desmond's sly grin, his inviting expression.
"The drinks, the come-ons, the attention I made sure to pay you. Obvious. If you'd been paying attention, that is," he said, and Shaun frowned again, because maybe, yeah, okay, looking back he could kind of see it, but at the time, he'd laughed when Rebecca had said the same thing that very night.
"You...so you do...," he trailed off, because he couldn't finish that sentence. Desmond clearly remembered, after all, but the other option, to suggest that he was still interested seemed presumptuous, despite current evidence to the contrary.
"Yes, Shaun, I do," Desmond replied, stepping that last bit closer. "So, I guess I have an offer of my own. We could do again, probably more than once, if you're still interested." Shaun made a choked sort of noise, because Desmond was practically flush against him at this point, and yes, Shaun was still interested. Definitely still interested. "Or, we can keep pretending it didn't happen. You didn't come to New York, I didn't buy your drinks, we didn't go to your hotel room," he whispered, voice dropping as he leaned closer, lips all but brushing Shaun's ear, "You didn't suck me off against the door and I didn't fuck you through your mattress," he breathed, and Shaun actually whimpered at that, shuddering slightly as every ounce of blood in his body rushed south. Desmond pulled back suddenly, all that lean warmth sudddenly gone, and he smiled like he hadn't just sent Shaun's pulse skyrocketing with only a few words and the press of his body. "Didn't happen," Desmond said, spreading his arms. "But I'm just saying, if you want it to, you know where to find me." Desmond grinned then, all confident invitation, and sauntered out of the kitchen, towards the room that held his bed. Which... was the animus room, and that meant if they did do this, there'd be no hiding it. No forgetting or pretending.
Shaun didn't even hesitate.