The skeptical look remains on Faraday’s face as Vasquez starts diving into his reasoning – and in fact, it darkens into a glare when Vasquez motions to Faraday’s bum leg.
All these months, and Faraday still bristles at the implication that he can’t hold his own, at the reminder that his injuries have impacted the upper limits of what he can handle. His mouth opens to fire off one of his usual protests, likely coupled with a reminder that he’s still healthy enough to break Vasquez’s nose, if he has reason enough for it, but his teeth clack together once Vasquez’s warm hand travels along his thigh.
By now, he’s used to Vasquez’s casual brushes of contact, having grown accustomed to them while he was still healing from the war in Rose Creek. He was used to Vasquez’s hand at the small of his back, Vasquez’s sure grip as he helped Faraday to his feet, Vasquez’s steadying presence at Faraday’s hip, whenever he needed to travel the near interminable distance from the bed to the door.
But these days, Faraday can read the hidden meanings and implications, like he’s learned an entirely new language overnight, and Vasquez’s touch has the intended effect. Faraday’s expression changes from guarded and uncertain to warm and thoughtful. This... “courtship,” though Faraday knows for a fact that isn’t the right word for it, is still completely new to him and leaves him feeling wrong-footed.
The sex, at least, is a little easier to navigate.
When Vasquez switches to his native tongue, Faraday breathes out an overblown sigh, more for show than any true expression of annoyance.
“You know I can’t understand you,” he says, as if Vasquez needs the reminder. “What’d you just say?”
no subject
All these months, and Faraday still bristles at the implication that he can’t hold his own, at the reminder that his injuries have impacted the upper limits of what he can handle. His mouth opens to fire off one of his usual protests, likely coupled with a reminder that he’s still healthy enough to break Vasquez’s nose, if he has reason enough for it, but his teeth clack together once Vasquez’s warm hand travels along his thigh.
By now, he’s used to Vasquez’s casual brushes of contact, having grown accustomed to them while he was still healing from the war in Rose Creek. He was used to Vasquez’s hand at the small of his back, Vasquez’s sure grip as he helped Faraday to his feet, Vasquez’s steadying presence at Faraday’s hip, whenever he needed to travel the near interminable distance from the bed to the door.
But these days, Faraday can read the hidden meanings and implications, like he’s learned an entirely new language overnight, and Vasquez’s touch has the intended effect. Faraday’s expression changes from guarded and uncertain to warm and thoughtful. This... “courtship,” though Faraday knows for a fact that isn’t the right word for it, is still completely new to him and leaves him feeling wrong-footed.
The sex, at least, is a little easier to navigate.
When Vasquez switches to his native tongue, Faraday breathes out an overblown sigh, more for show than any true expression of annoyance.
“You know I can’t understand you,” he says, as if Vasquez needs the reminder. “What’d you just say?”