beklemmt | 아프더라도 너만 있으면 돼

J's remark startles a laugh out of S, has him looking amused again despite his fondness a moment before. "I wish we could," he says with a slight groan of exasperation, shaking his head. It isn't a very long walk back, but the rice and the flour will be heavy, and even divvying up the weight between them, it isn't going to be fun. He doubts either of them is in very good shape. Neither of them was ever really the athletic type in the first place. Now, when they've already established that J is too skinny, probably having all but living behind his piano those last months, and when S spent a good long while not being able to lift much of anything at all, that's got to be even truer than ever. There's no way this will be remotely easy for either of them. "I'm ready to be done here, too, but I'm not looking forward to walking back."

This should hold them both over for a little while, at least. They can do a lot with just a few ingredients, and it isn't as if they both haven't done plenty of living off leftovers before. Any more than this would feel like too much, anyway, even beyond likely crossing into the realm of what they wouldn't feasibly be able to carry. J might need some of this money to get himself set up with if he decides not to move in. It wouldn't be fair to leave him shortchanged.

At last, he spots the eggs, hurrying forward a few steps so he can grab a carton, grinning when he turns back around. "I think that's everything."

"You didn't say no," J points out, feigning innocence, though it only lasts a moment before he brightens. Carrying it back won't be fun, no, but at least they can check out and get to that part now. He'll take the trek back to the apartment with bags of groceries over staying here much longer. By the time they return, yes, he'll probably be exhausted, but he'll get over that soon enough. Besides, they can rest from the walk together, curled up on the couch or something like that.

That S seems every bit as relieved as he is to be wrapping this up isn't a surprise. Of the two of them, J may be the less inclined to spend time around other people, but they're not exactly social butterflies, and extended time in public is every bit as hard on S as it is on him. It takes its toll on them in different ways — or in the same ways to different degrees — but it's not something either of them especially enjoy. It's a shame, really. In theory, J would like to go out more, if he could find the energy or the will, but sometimes it's too frustrating to be worth it. They did agree to explore together, though. Maybe a little at a time won't be so hard on them.

He swings the cart to the side, heading down the aisle directly toward the checkout, even as he peers at the cart's contents. "I think that's it. I really can't think of anything else."

"Too much more and I'm not sure we would ever make it back," S says wryly, letting out a quiet laugh. It's an exaggeration, but a genuine concern, too. Finances aside, giving themselves anything more to carry would make an already difficult trip even more so. Since they can't actually steal the cart, no matter how helpful that would be, they don't need to add any extra purchases and thus any extra weight to the groceries they've amassed. He gives it a moment's thought, just in case, not wanting to forget anything important, but this seems like it should be enough for now. If nothing else, they don't seem to be short of anything so crucial that it can't wait until their next grocery shopping trip, if they even wind up getting groceries together next time. They might not. J might have decided by then not to stay with him.

He really can't let himself think about that right now, though. Fortunately, getting the groceries paid for should be distraction enough. If he's a little worried about the cost, it isn't for any fear that they won't be able to cover it; they're considerably below that threshold now. It's just that spending a lot on groceries after two cab rides and the drugstore stop makes him the slightest bit uneasy, however irrationally so.

Rather than commenting on any of it, he shoots J a grin. "You didn't even add a dozen things we don't need, for a change. I'm impressed."

J makes an indignant sound, huffing as he takes up his place in line. There's almost no one ahead of them, but there also aren't that many registers to begin with, so he's stuck here for the moment, looking over at S with his brow raised. That he's the one who first brought up this tendency of his isn't the point. He doesn't even actually mind. It's kind of nice, actually, letting S tease him. It feels comfortable, familiar. But he can't just let it go either. That's part of the fun anyway.

"I think I was very responsible," he says, leaning against the cart. "Everything in there is a necessity." That includes the journal and the hotteok, and he gives S a smile that dares him to say otherwise. Thinking of that, though, just reminds him that S is going to find him a space of his own at the apartment later. It's a bittersweet thought, given that he'd rather have more than a little drawer, but it's nice, knowing there's a place for him there whether he stays or not.

As soon as space becomes available, he steps around the cart, moving groceries onto the conveyor belt. He'll have to leave it to S to handle payment. It's easier than him fumbling with a new currency himself. He can do this much, though.

S isn't entirely sure that they're all necessities, but really, it's close enough. He thinks J was right a couple minutes ago, anyway, that some kind of dessert is warranted when they're celebrating. Even if it won't be as nice an occasion as he would like to make it, at least it's something for him to cook and them to be able to follow their meal with something sweet. Just being with J is more than enough for him, anyway. At least they're finally finishing up here, which is a relief with how much he wants to be alone together. It isn't even that there's anything specific he wants to do. He's just tired of not being able to, ready to do away with this necessary distance between them. That he's kind of dreading carrying the bags back doesn't hurt on that front, either.

There's nothing to be done for it but to keep moving, though. He pulls J's packet from the drugstore bag in the front of the cart, waiting patiently while everything is rung up before he takes out the cash, carefully counting the bills. It's going to take a while longer before he gets used to this new currency, both the way it looks and what it's all worth, not what he's used to at all. Still, at least he's started to make sense of it. He'll have to help J with that later, like he said he would, and maybe it will do him some good in the process, too.

At least he manages to get it right, and at least, too, he doesn't wince at the total. It's fine. They're fine, money-wise, probably even more so than he's used to — it's hard to be entirely sure when he doesn't fully understand what the exchange rate of this would be — but old habits die hard, and he still feels a little guilty spending J's money. He glances over as he hands it to the cashier, a slight question in his eyes, as if wanting to make sure it's okay, though he knows it will be, and that J is even more unfamiliar with this money than he is. Still, it's hard to help.

To J, it's just a relief that S has some idea what any of this means or adds up to. While he's certain that he wouldn't have made it this far on his own anyway — at the very least, he wouldn't be shopping right now — it's nice not to have to try and figure it out by himself. It's ironic, really. After spending so long trying so hard not to rely on S, it's doing so that's keeping him afloat now, even in good spirits.

Still, S looks a little unsure. J can only guess it's something to do with the total, though it sounds much smaller an amount to him than it would be at home. All of the amounts are smaller, though, on the price tags. It has to be something to do with the exchange rate, if such a thing even exists in a different world. Whatever it is, he has too much else on his mind to be all that worried. He offers S a smile and starts transferring bags into the cart. They can't steal it, fine, but he can at least use it to get everything outside so they can distribute the bags more easily without blocking anyone else's way.

With everything loaded into the cart and S finishing up, he starts pulling the cart past the register, moving around so he can wheel it towards the door. Now that they're done, he finds himself increasingly restless, relieved just to step outside even though it's noticeably colder once he does so. The grocery store isn't even warm; it's just cold out. All the more reason to get back soon, he thinks. If he can feel the difference, S certainly can, and J knows that he wouldn't take the coat now even if J offered it. He doesn't think about that for long, though, frowning into the cart as he tries to reason this out. Reaching out to tug at S's sleeve as he approaches, he glances over. "Hi."

S lets out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding when he steps outside, J's packet and its remaining money still in tow. His relief is counterbalanced by how cold it is, though, and how he has to suppress a shiver as he nears J's side again, not wanting to make too much of it or cause him to worry. With only one coat between the two of them, there really wasn't anything else to be done about it. They'll be back soon, at least, even if this is bound to be the worst part of today's whole journey out of his apartment. That's all the more reason to get it over with. Walking back, the two of them will need to keep even more of a distance than they have been, too, when they're both going to have their hands full. As if to make up for that a little, and because he's cold, he steps just a bit closer to J's side than is strictly necessary.

"Hi," he echoes, his expression soft. Still he wants to do more, wants to move all the way in beside J, or maybe lean his head against J's shoulder for a moment, but he resists, turning his attention to the bagged groceries again and tucking J's packet into the one that looks emptiest. "We should split up the heaviest things, the flours and the rice. Make it as even as we can." Even that won't make this walk any more pleasant, but he really doesn't think he can justify another cab ride, especially when his building is so close to here. They're just going to have to get by as best they can.

To that end, he reaches for one of the bags, the flour inside just peeking out of the top. "Ah, remember to be careful if you get the one with the eggs."

"Of course," J says, making a face at S. That goes without saying, he figures. Eggs are fragile. Still, it's hard to be genuinely irritated by that, if only because he's distracted by the gentleness of S's expression. He doesn't want to pick up heavy bags and walk several blocks. He just wants to step closer and pull S to him. That's it, really. Anything beyond that would be nice, but simply hugging S is what he wants most, opening the coat to wrap partly around him so they can both be warmer. Having to do chores instead, even further apart, is what's truly irritating.

Since S has grabbed the flour, J makes a point of peering at the bags until he can pick out the one with the rice before he takes on anything else. Even if S was the one to mention keeping things relatively balanced, J isn't sure he actually expects S to follow through instead of taking on more than he should. Neither of them have ever been anything like athletic, but J is perfectly capable of pulling his own weight. Or carrying it, really.

Gathering bags and trying to figure out how to distribute the way he holds them so he doesn't drop anything, he looks over at S. "Have you got it okay? Is there anything else I should take?" Really, he thinks, he should take a little bit more than S. After all, S is the one who has to navigate the way back, and someone should be able to open doors.

"I've got it," S says, instinctive as much as anything else, as he shifts some of the bags around to try to make them as easy to carry as possible. Already he can tell that this is not going to be easy, but there's no sense in foisting any more of the bags on J, who can't be any better equipped to carry all of this than he is. Their purchases seem reasonably well divided between them for now, and that's the best they can do, really. All that's left is to bear it for the several blocks back to his building. It's probably going to be tricky when they get there, since he can't get his keys out and open doors with his hands full like this, but he'll make it work. Still, he can't help, for another moment, missing J's car and how much easier it made running these errands.

Taking a deep breath, he glances over at J. "You good?" he asks in turn. If J is offering to take more, it seems likely that he is, but then, S thinks they'd probably both want to take on more to make it easier for the other. A couple months ago, he would have had to take J up on that, too, but S dismisses that thought as quickly as he can, glad that isn't the case and that he doesn't have to explain why. That wouldn't do either of them any good right now. Even if the lightness of the mood they've been in this past while can't last, he doesn't want to ruin it yet.

J nods, though good might be stretching it a bit. He's okay for now, but he knows himself well enough to know that it's going to become difficult to manage this in relatively short order. There's no getting around that, though. They can't afford to take another cab, never mind taking one a mere four or five blocks.

"Since you won't let me steal the cart," he sighs, "I guess I'm fine. Lead the way." As earlier, half a dozen pet names threaten to pop out of his mouth, but he bites them back. There's not a single one in his vocabulary, apparently, that's even remotely platonic — none, at least, that come readily to mind. He's pretty sure that, at some point, he used them mostly to tease and partly because of the simple pleasure of being able to do so, everything playful and exciting in the early days of love. They stuck, though, and he seems to want to use them most when he knows he can't.

Staring down at the bags in his arms, he shifts slightly, testing. Satisfied that everything will hold for now, he nods for S to show him which way to go.

Once, S knows he would have joked about it, teased J about not needing any trouble with the law so soon after he just got here. Now, it would come too close to too many unpleasant truths to be remotely funny. It wouldn't remotely be worth bringing the mood down by risking that; it isn't even worth thinking too much about. He can't keep everything at bay forever, but that's all the more reason not to sacrifice this sense of calm for a stupid, offhand joke. "Ah, don't tempt me," he replies instead, giving the cart an exaggeratedly wistful look. As helpful as it would be, though, they really can't just run off with it, so he steps away, bags in tow, leading J down the sidewalk back the way they came, towards his building. At least he lives close, though between the cold and the heavy groceries, he suspects it will seem a lot farther than it is.

At least, too, once they're in, they don't have to go back out again, just down to the basement for laundry, and that doesn't need to be done immediately. He would rather not leave it too late, but there's no way he's going to be up for rushing back out again right away. Besides, after all this time spent having to be so careful, watching each word and gesture they exchange, he knows that he, for one, could do with a reprieve from that before having to maintain that distance again.

"We'll be back soon," he says instead, mostly because he wants to say something rather than just lapsing into silence, sparing a glance over at J as he does. "That's everything for now, at least."

J glances over, offering up a small smile. He knows S is trying to reassure him. Oddly enough, it works. They didn't drive very far past the building S pointed out and they didn't walk far once they got here. He doesn't like having to carry all of this back, but it's not like they haven't had to carry heavy things around before, settling into their old apartment or a couple times when the need to buy groceries outweighed the ability to buy gas. At least there were places in their neighborhood so it wasn't too bad. This won't be either.

And then they'll be back. Home, J keeps think of it as, instinct that he has to bat away, but he doesn't want to. It's stupid to get nitpicky about, as far as he's concerned. Even if he lives somewhere else, this place will be home, because it's where S will be.

"Soon," he echoes. "Then all we'll have to do is laundry and then nothing for at least a day. Ah, I'm really looking forward to that." His tone turns wistful, laced with all the things he wants that he can't name aloud. More than anything, he just wants to curl up together, to rest in S's arms, and to kiss him, slow and tender and deep, purely for the sake of it. Anything else would be a bonus after that. He's absolutely starved for touch, for affection, unsure he realized before just how badly he craved it or how long it had been since he'd even been given a hug or held a hand. As much as he always liked these things, alternating a need for personal space with a deep fondness for simply holding hands, the absence of it has made it less something he enjoys and more something he needs, something he aches to have. And maybe that's just him being overly dramatic, too, just because it's being withheld from him now, but it still feels true.

S smiles a little in turn, soft and almost shy in his attempt not to be too obvious about it. Anything they do or say is bound to be less noticeable now than it was in the grocery store, since they're just passing by people who are mostly engaged in conversations of their own and not paying them much attention. Still, maybe especially when he can't even take J's hand now, it's harder to watch what he says and how he looks at J, harder not to show just how much he's looking forward to that. "Me too," he says anyway, hoping J will know what an understatement that is. He still feels a little ridiculous, a little needy for it, but they've been apart for so long. Having to be so cautious in public is wearying anyway, more so than it used to be for how unaccustomed he is to it now, and that only makes him want more to get to spend some time alone, to do all the things he can't while they're out in the open.

Stocked up on groceries, he thinks they might even be able to make it more than a day without having to go out, which also feels a little silly to consider. They can't just hide away forever. Just for a while, though, it can't be such a bad thing to savor having each other's company again, and to do so without the platonic facade that being in public requires. The best way for J to figure out if he'll be able to move in or not is for them to stay there for a while and see how it goes. There are other, serious conversations that probably need to be had, anyway, and they may as well give themselves that space, a day — or maybe a few days — to find their footing again after all this time.

He makes a face, teasing, as he shifts his hold on his bags a little, sweater sleeves pulled as far down over his hands as he can manage so his fingers don't get too numb. "I'm also looking forward to not having to carry all this, but at least we're getting it out of the way now."

Even when S doesn't say much, J thinks he knows what he's saying, and that in itself is so good, it leaves him a little wonderstruck. They know each other so well, better than he's known or been known by anyone else, until they can all but read each other's minds. There was a while there he felt like they had almost become strangers, as if S didn't understand him at all. Even now, he doesn't know what happened, why it became that way, why it doesn't seem to be the case now. Everything about the last year or two is bewildering to him at best. He's tried time and again to unravel it and figure out what went wrong or what's wrong with him, and tried just as hard and as often to block it from his mind. He's probably going to have to do the former again in the coming days to make this work, and he's not looking forward to it, but maybe it'll be easier, knowing they've found their footing again — that they're starting to, at least.

More than, though, he thinks. There's a lot to rediscover and reassess, a lot to figure out, but there's also a lot that just makes sense again, the way it should be. He glances over at S and smiles, seeing the way his fingers just barely peek out from under his sleeves, so absurdly cute, and it makes sense. Two little words, and J knows S is as eager to get home as he is, just as ready to hold him as he is to be held, and vice versa. It feels so good to know and be known.

He nods, glancing away only to make sure he can watch where he's going. He doesn't need to risk tripping again or running into something. "I'm glad," he says. "It'll be nice not to have to do this again for a bit. I don't think I'll want to for a while." He's not sure he'll be able to, more like. There's a lot he's looking forward to and a lot that simply needs to be done. In a way, as much as he dreads some of the things they'll probably need to talk about, he's almost looking forward to that, too. There's something relieving just about knowing he'll be able to do so, knowing S will listen, feeling safe to talk.

S nods, thoughtful but not grim. He thinks, at least, that he knows what J means by that, that it's not just a matter of not wanting to but not feeling up to it. Given everything, that makes sense enough. Not for the first time and almost certainly not for the last, he has to try not to get ahead of himself again, biting back the words that spring to the tip of his tongue not because they would be too much for in public but because they would feel too presumptuous. That doesn't stop him from considering it, though — that maybe next time they go out, it won't be for errands, but to do something fun, to go exploring a little like they briefly talked about doing. He can show J what little here he's seen so far; they can see the things he hasn't, go wandering around like tourists, seeing the various sights. If J does decide to stay with him — again, a big if, and thinking too far ahead — then maybe they can even stop and eat at a restaurant or something. It wouldn't be a date, not like he'd like to be able to take J on, but it would at least be as close as they can get.

All of that, he pushes aside, or tries his best to. It won't get them back to his apartment with the groceries any sooner, and he should just take this as it comes, anyway, let J decide what he wants to do. They've both been through hell, he thinks, but J far more so and far more recently, and S is so glad, so relieved just to have him here, alive and safe, that he has no interest in pushing for more than J feels capable of doing. Eventually, though, it might be nice, getting to do these things. More than anything, he just wants to have enough time to get to.

"Well, we can definitely live on his for a while," he says, shooting J a lopsided smile. They have experience making groceries last, at least, and what they've bought today should yield plenty. "If how much it all weighs is anything to go by." It's more of a joke than a complaint, a means of trying to keep the mood light, and of saying that's okay without outright doing so. Granted, it's true, too, and he knows he'll be exhausted by the time they make it back, but he doesn't want to make too much of that.

J laughs, small and soft, and nods. "This is what we get for not working out, I guess," he says wryly. He has no interest in doing so, even if it means this is the result. He has much better and more interesting things to do with his time. Granted, lately, he's been more likely to spend his time doing dull, mind-numbing, and painful things, but that doesn't mean he wants to change it up by adding exercise to the list. He's had too many nights he came back to his place exhausted anyway, woke up aching for all the wrong reasons.

Not enough of them, though, thankfully, mercifully, to have built up any real upper body strength, so he's still less than thrilled with the weight of these, but he's managing. The closer they get, the more of a struggle it'll become, but it's fine for now. It's enough to know that S is inclined to stay in, too, or at least willing to do so. It's a relief, even if it's not unexpected; he'll need it, J's sure of that. Even having slept well, he's a bit tired. One night's rest doesn't make up for months — years, really — of insomnia. It doesn't wash away that yesterday was incredibly difficult and exhausting, or the fact that even in a reasonably good mood, he has to watch himself, dancing around the shadows of his past deeds and endearments alike. If he's going to make it through this, he'll need a couple of days at least to deal with it, to talk about it, to figure out how to cope. As much as he'd like to keep pushing it back forever, that won't work. Sooner or later — and probably sooner — his brain won't let him keep that up.

Even now, thinking about it, it's hard to quiet entirely the distant voice that tells him he doesn't deserve to cope, that he shouldn't get to figure out how to live with this, as if it's at all acceptable. It's just that, with S here and his mood decent, it's a little bit easier to reason with himself. If nothing else, that's not something he can figure out while carrying rice and flour and god knows what all else, and definitely not in public.

And S is smiling at him, and it's enough, for right now; he's smiling, too, softer, relieved. It's all he can do, keep moving through it, latching onto anything that keeps him from going under, which is S — only S, really, the sight of him soothing J in small glances as he walks. "Ah, but I guess we worked out yesterday," he says, yet again feigning innocence. It's a much nicer thing to think about than all the rest of it.

Edited 2021-02-08 11:38 (UTC)

S laughs again in turn, shaking his head a little, though he at least manages not to look too flustered this time. It's a comment just vague enough that even if someone did overhear, they might not think twice about it. They should probably be more careful than that, but it isn't even the most suggestive thing that's been said while they were out of the apartment, and anyway, it's not true. Yesterday was the most exertion he's had in a long time, and that's even factoring in the weeks of carefully working up to physical activity at all. He would retort as much — that in a way, he sort of has been — except that that subject still seems untouchable. Even if they weren't still in the middle of a public street, it would be. Sooner or later, he's going to have to be able to talk about what happened to him and what happened because of it. They can't avoid it forever. For now, though, it's for the best, nothing that needs to be addressed yet. He knows what J means, anyway. They both have never been particularly athletic, more interested in playing music than playing sports, and that's one thing that he has no doubt hasn't changed in his absence.

"I guess so," he agrees, as casually as he can, shoulders lifting a little. "For that matter, we could work out again later, too." Not right away, he's sure. He has a feeling that they're both going to be much too exhausted when they get back to jump right into that again, and anyway, they should do the laundry before they wind up with another set of sheets they need to clean. When they do go out again, that should be a priority — that, and getting J a coat of his own. S doesn't regret insisting that J wear his today, but he is cold, looking forward to getting warm now almost as much as he is anything else. At least, in doing so, he can also do several other things he wants to do at once, like hold J close and kiss him the way he's never been able to while out in the open like this. He wishes he could, but he can't, so being eager to get back to his place is the best he can do.

Thinking of it as home is oddly intoxicating now, but S still hesitates to lean too far into that. It's certainly more of one than it was at this time yesterday, more than he thought it ever could be, but he knows how easily he could get too caught up in the thought of that and expect J just to stay when there's every chance he might not. "You know, if you feel like it."

This is much, much better than thinking about any of the other things J was starting to have trouble fending off. Later, he knows, later he'll have to deal with it in one way or another. Trying to ignore things never works for long with him and, if they're really going to make this work this time, then he thinks he's got to try to be more open. He's never been as good as he'd like at expressing himself out loud, but it became much more difficult once he started to worry too much about how what he had to say would affect S or how S saw him. Still, he has to try, and it helps a lot already to know that, at this point, there's probably very little he could say would catch S entirely off guard.

For now, though, he can simply focus on this. Even knowing he has to be cautious, taking care not to say anything that would give them away to anyone passing by, it's fun. It's a kind of game, walking the line between flirtation and plausible deniability. It would be easier, probably, if he knew any sports or exercise-related terminology that made any sense, but that's beside the point.

"I thought we were planning on it," he says, warm and pleased. "I mean, if you're too tired after this..." He shrugs, though it's not quite as pronounced as it would be if he weren't weighed down with groceries. For all he knows, he'll be the one too tired, physically or otherwise, and he'd never want to push S into anything he didn't want just as much, but that doesn't mean he can't tease. "I don't know. I could work out alone, I guess, but it's not as fun."

Immediately, S rescinds his thought from a moment before about not being flustered. That does it, J's insinuation serving as a reminder of something he said yesterday. S's cheeks darken just a little as he audibly stifles a laugh, though once again, he at least has the cold for cover, already flushed from the brisk air anyway. This is a dangerous game, really, but he can't bring himself to walk back from that line, instead dancing perilously close to it. They haven't said anything too incriminating yet, especially since continuing to walk means anyone who would pass them by will only catch snippets of conversation, and given how frustrated as having to hide makes him, there's something exhilarating about seeing how far they can go while speaking in a sort of secret code. He should walk it back, probably, but this is one way in which pushing his luck with J is far less likely to backfire than usual.

"I don't think I'll be too tired," S says with a shake of his head, teasingly thoughtful. "But if I am, I could always... spot you. You know, keep an eye out, talk you through it." There's an incredibly low chance that he won't want to have sex again later — the only thing that would really stop him, he thinks, is if they get into too upsetting a conversation, and even then, they managed to bounce back pretty damn quickly yesterday — but it's not an unappealing thought. Mostly, though, he just wants to see how J reacts. They're liable to drive each other insane at this point, but at least they'll have plenty of time to make up for that later.

J doesn't expect to get one-upped. If anything, he's pretty sure he's won the conversation, until S actually replies, his cheeks flushing before he's even entirely processed what S is saying. He's really out of practice at this — not just the innuendo, but hearing it, being in a relationship, having sex on the table at all.

The trouble is, his brain catching up to the words generally involves picturing the meaning of the words. And while J would certainly prefer the option that involves both of them, the picture isn't exactly a bad one either. There are some situations where he can't really say he minds having S tell him what to do. Really, he knows, the odds are that, if S isn't in the mood, he won't be either, but it's worth keeping in mind, even if they're mostly teasing each other. "Very thoughtful of you," he says, mouth a little dry. "You're good at that. Keeping an eye on me, directing me."

Even playing, even to him, it sounds a little too close to things he's criticized S for in the past. He glances over, flashing S a quick smile. "I'm lucky," he says, and that much, at least, he means sincerely. He hopes it shows. "To have a best friend and a personal trainer? Really."

In different context, it might, admittedly, sting a bit for how untrue S knows that to be. Those are things that he knows J generally can't stand about him, even if it's often unintentionally that he comes across that way at all. He just has to force himself not to dwell on that right now, which at least is easy enough with as satisfying as J's reaction is. Try as he might, S can't hide how pleased he is, his head ducking slightly as he smiles. Really, he doubts it will come to that, but he'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about it a little after what J said before they had sex yesterday. As good as that was, he didn't exactly have much of a view for a lot of it. He wouldn't really mind changing that, though that's rather far down the list of things he would like to do.

Again he reminds himself that they have time, or at least that they probably have time. They don't need to limit themselves or pick and choose what they do, even if they should, at least, wait until the laundry is done and they have clean sheets to put on the bed after they use it.

Thinking about any of this is a terrible idea in public, when they can't act on any of it yet. At least J calling him a personal trainer, which is one of the most ridiculous things he's ever heard, is a good distraction both from that and from any potential weight in what J says. "Well, it's the least I can do," he says. "Since you had to work out without a personal trainer for so long, and all." He can barely get the words out without laughing, too amused to pretend that he isn't. "I think I'll be able to join you, though."

S's reaction at least helps distract J a bit from the mental images all of this prompts. He looks like he's about to start laughing at any minute, and it's both adorable and satisfying. Every little sign of happiness he can draw out of S makes J feel a little more secure in what they're doing. Whatever he might fear about himself, whatever he thinks he does or doesn't deserve, it can't be wrong to make S happy like this.

"True, true," he says, mock serious. "I had to wonder what advice you would give. Not at all the same." At this point, he's teasing himself as much as S, in more ways than one. He remembers distantly what he confessed to, which would be embarrassing if it weren't for his certainty that S enjoys the thought of it. He wouldn't have found it mortifying in the past, but he's still figuring all of this out again. Mocking himself is one thing, though, as is teasing S with all the things they can't do right now. Drawing out the work for his overactive imagination is probably a terrible idea though. Still, at least it keeps his mind off the load he's carrying. All he has to do is make sure he doesn't trip or drop anything or forget to look before crossing the street, and he can do that and flirt easily enough.

"But, of course," he adds, "it's always more fun to exercise with a partner."

Talking like this is both helpful and wildly unhelpful, keeping S's attention off the strain of carrying heavy bags but making him want little more than to drop them and kiss his boyfriend. Even couched in humor and metaphor, it's still a little sad to think about J, alone, thinking about him, but it's sort of intensely appealing, too. They can't do anything about all those months they were apart, anyway. All they can do is try to make up for that time now. The sooner they get back to his apartment, the sooner they can do so, though he doubts either of them is going to be up for that sort of exertion right away. He tires out more quickly than he used to, and that's even without not having slept the night before. It was worth it. So will it be to work up the energy to have sex again, however they wind up doing so this time.

There's still a lot they need to figure out and work around in that regard, positions that don't seem feasible despite how much he would really like to have J on top of him, the fact that whatever they do, he'll probably still have to keep his shirt on. Neither seems worth the risk of doing otherwise yet. Both are worth having to deal with. They certainly made it work well enough yesterday, his hips still aching just a little from it, which, really, is exactly what he wanted, another welcome distraction in its own right.

"Of course," he agrees, all feigned seriousness in turn. "Now you can have either. Both. Someone to exercise with, and my advice."

"Both," J agrees, perhaps a bit faster than he means to. He meant what he said yesterday, though. He wants everything, anything, whatever he can get, greedy for every touch, every glance, every word. It isn't just when it comes to sex either, but it feels easier, a little less vulnerable maybe, to admit it within that context than it is to own how badly he wants every part of this relationship. That probably shouldn't be the case. There shouldn't be any shame in that, when he knows that S wants that, too. It's just hard not to feel a little guilty for it when he knows he could have had all of this back a long time ago.

It wouldn't have worked. He's not entirely sure of that, hasn't reasoned through it completely, but he feels, at the moment, relatively certain. It took the last week to knock some sense into him, as horrible as that is.

There's no room for further introspection here and now, though. It's not as easy as just saying that what's past is past, but what's past is, for the moment, not entirely pertinent. They'll talk about it later, probably. Right now, J is mercifully, excruciatingly distracted by his own eagerness. With laundry and dinner and resting up from all this and any talks they'll need to have beforehand, sex is hours off, and that's fine, but now he's thinking about it, which is entirely his own fault. And as much as he really would rather have sex with S than get off on his own, there's something dizzyingly appealing about the prospect of doing so for S, too, about being watched and directed. Maybe not tonight, when he wants to savor having S back, but soon perhaps. It's something to keep in mind, certainly.

He doesn't even have a pun or innuendo for it, nothing that comes readily to mind. Jokes are better; this is one area where he doesn't feel a need to be so serious all the time, and it helps keep his mind off everything else to be playful about this. All he has, though, is a small offering. "Sometimes I like when you tell me what to do," he says, a little wry, glancing over at S. He knows he's made it clear he often hates it, and he does. It's not even about being given instructions. It's just that S has this tendency to think he knows what needs to be done, or he gets so used to having to take care of J, he forgets to leave him room for decisions of his own, and it makes J feel like an incompetent child. The worst part is that isn't even always true. Sometimes he's grateful to have S take the lead, relieved not to have to figure things out for himself when his brain seems unwilling to process information properly. It's hard to explain the difference out loud, and not something he can do here and now. But that little truth, that confession or whatever it is — though it's not like it's a secret either, nothing he hasn't said before, albeit long ago — feels like something. An effort on his part, at least, maybe. "And not just when you're spotting me."

Not for the first time in the last day, S hates that his instinct is not to believe that, at least not entirely. J sounds like he means it now; there wouldn't be any reason for him to say so if he didn't. But he's so often said otherwise that it's impossible to think that could actually be true. Even that last time they saw each other before this place — it feels like another lifetime ago, like they were different people then, and in a way, both of those things are true, but still, S hasn't forgotten. He's no more capable of putting that out of his head than he is of trying to articulate why it happens. He doesn't mean to tell J what to do, really. It isn't like he wants to be controlling or bossy, or like he thinks J can't make decisions for himself. Usually it's just that he gets worried, and in not wanting to admit that he's worried, it comes out all wrong, or he thinks J is stuck unable to decide something or needs coaxing of some kind only for that not to be the case after all. He can't do that now. Having only just gotten this back, he couldn't bear it; he has to do better this time. He doesn't really even want to think that J does like it sometimes, because then he'll probably just do it when he shouldn't again and ruin this before they've even had a chance together.

None of that is anything he really wants to be thinking about now, when he's trying to fucking flirt with his boyfriend, however obliquely their being in public necessitates he do so. Besides, pointing that out would really just wind up being the same thing, telling J how he feels or what to do or what he wants, and he can't risk that. Like so much else, S has to put it aside for now, along with a host of other worries that he doesn't know how to give voice to or want to revisit. He's still, for one, not sure he was wrong yesterday when he said that he made J miserable. That's just all the more reason to try not to, and J is smiling, still lighthearted about all of this, and S wants to be, too. Better that than letting himself start to wonder if he's just setting himself up to get hurt again when J remembers how unhappy he was when they were together.

"Not like it has to be just one way," he points out, a little wry in turn, careful to make sure his expression doesn't falter. The bags he's carrying suddenly feel substantially heavier than they did a minute ago, but he really doesn't want to ruin the mood or give J any cause to think he's disrupted this or said the wrong thing when he hasn't at all. This is true, too, and in being true is easy to get caught up in again, his eyes bright and his smile pulling just the slightest bit wider when he continues. "I might... work out alone sometime, and if I were going to, I could definitely use a spotter, too."

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