desertrain | OPEN // OVERFLOW

[...what is he supposed to do with this, what is he supposed to do with a very relaxed Kalim in his arms, how is he supposed to deal with a Kalim in his arms, Jamil doesn't know how to deal with Kalim in his arms.]

Eventually.

[Feels like he's going to need to use the towels to mop up Kalim at the rate he's relaxing, becoming boneless, melting in his arms.

And so.

Even though this was a bad idea.

Despite the fact his every instinct was yelling at him to not do this.

Despite all of the very good reasons to remain sitting, Jamil very carefully, very slowly, very reluctantly, laid down, rubbing Kalim's scalp the entire time as he did so, and if, perhaps, Kalim was so inclined he could lie down on top of him. Maybe.]

[They dance, a few dramatic turns, arms moving tighter and tighter around each other, the world and the music further and further away from Jamil's notice. The only thing he notices is, as always, Kalim. If Kalim was the sun he would be his moon. If Kalim was the moon, he'd be the ocean, his restless tides at the mercy of Kalim's whims. If Jamil tried to fly away (and he knew that he had, and that he would, again and again) he'd still find himself always returning to Kalim's side at the end. Again and again.

They danced, they drew closer and closer together, Kalim's hands sliding up to his shoulders, foreheads pressed together, he could almost taste Kalim's breath on his lips, and then-

And then Kalim faltered, in the end.

Jamil smiles, one of those merciless ones that- no, not like that. Not cruel, not exactly, but Kalim faltered, which meant that it was his turn to take the lead and make Kalim fight for it.]

You didn't forget how this dance ended, did you?

[Here he is, ignoring the question about choreography.]

I didn't.

[ Well. That IS super cute, though... ]

!!! Look at their little faces! They're adorable!

Hahaha undercover otterbot! The most endearing little spy!

[ Nonsense. It's absolute nonsense and it's flying out of Kalim's fingers faster than he can think to stop it. Maybe that's why he doesn't hesitate to send the next (even though he probably should. ]

Are you in for the night? Or are you still coming over?

[ Eventually. Agreement. And then Jamil is ever-so-carefully adjusting himself to lie down on carpet. Kalim, boneless pile of relaxed mush that he is right now, can't be expected to do anything but lay over Jamil when he settles. It's nothing lascivious, nothing presumptive. He doesn't leap at it, but he doesn't shy away either. He simply shifts when Jamil slips down beneath him, and cozies himself more comfortably over Jamil's side.

Something about this feels so right. Better than it has any right to feel. Kalim's head has nestled itself comfortably on Jamil's shoulder, arm draped over his stomach, hand resting on his chest, one leg tangled over and beneath one of Jamil's. He could fall asleep like this. And wouldn't that make it easier for Jamil to drown him in the oasis? ]

Could just stay like this. Comfy~...

I didn't forget!

[ But Jamil has to be the one to do it. Jamil has to initiate. It still feels wrong otherwise, like Kalim is taking advantage of something that Jamil never wanted in the first place. Again.

There are no crickets in the Scalding Sands. At night, it's startlingly quiet; only whistling wind and a gentle rustle of the shifting sand. Quiet. Serene, in a way. But that's why this silence between them seems to stretch on for ages. And here, again, Kalim is confronted by an unfortunate truth about himself:

He's not fearless. He's not careless. What he fears and cares about -- above all else -- is never doing anything to drive Jamil away again. And yet here's the sinking suspicion that he's building a wall between them through inaction instead.

Kalim's hands are soft, smooth as the silks that clothe him, and when he reaches up to stroke Jamil's cheek -- fingertips playing across his cheek bone, thumbpad brushing over his lips -- Jamil might catch the faint scent of jasmine between them. ]

Maybe you'd better finish it off.

[Why did Kalim have to ask that, his entire 'oh, I just thought I'd bring over drinks' trial balloon question thing is ruined because there's no way of bringing over a tea nonchalantly now...worse, saying he was bringing Kalim a drink would just feel wrong, like the only way he can relate to Kalim is as his aide and retainer, and-

Fuck.]

I'm thirsty so I was going to get a drink before I came over. I'm in the kitchen. Do you want anything while I'm here?

[Kalim is smooth and soft and inviting, as his fingertips brush his lips Jamil inhales - sharp, crisp, it feels like a shout for how quiet the desert is around them - and there's a part of him that wants nothing more than to take the moment and dive into it. But, at the same time, it doesn't feel like it's his moment, it's Kalim's moment, extended.

Jamil smells jasmine. He brushes a bit of hair from Kalim's forehead - it isn't as if he has much of anything to brush away, it's touching for the sake of touching. The night is still, and they've never done anything right, ever, not unless-

-and he takes Kalim's hand and pulls him into another dance, a simple box-step waltz, at least at first, him counting out the steps until Kalim knows well enough to follow as there's no music, just instinct and Jamil's voice, counting-]

One, two three, one, two, three-

[And once he's confident in Kalim following his lead.]

I think you forgot. I only remembered because Najma was excited when it that one award. Some teen's choice award?

[There's something to be said about how naturally Kalim settles down atop him...but Jamil's not going to be the one to say something about it. It's not eager. Kalim isn't eager, though he isn't reluctant, either. He has the unhurried pace of someone settling in somewhere he's always belonged at.

One arm slips about and holds Kalim: snug, but not too snug.]

What will you do if one of us falls off?

Maybe some jasmine tea please, if there's any left?

[ There is. They keep loose leaf stocked in the kitchens, imported from the only vendor at Camel Bazaar that Kalim ever orders from. He might even drink it, but more than that, holding a teacup is something to do with his hands while he's trying not to touch Jamil. ]

With a little honey and clove?

[ Not that Jamil doesn't know how Kalim likes his tea by now, but assumptions are what got them into this mess in the first place. ]

Best kiss.

[ Kalim doesn't falter though. He's every bit as willing to follow as he is to lead, and just as adept. Leading, following; they each fall into step just as well, as long as they're dancing with one another. It never seems to come as naturally with anyone else. And given that Jamil snatched the lead up as quickly as Kalim dropped it? That says something too. Something about balance, two halves of a whole, completeness...

There's no attempt made to make headway toward their actual objective, and Jamil doesn't seem to care. Which is good. Unusual, but good. Kalim can't quite wrap his head around why that may be, because assuming that Jamil simply wants to dance with him is too good to be true.

So it's easier to focus on the rhythm, on Jamil's voice. One-two, three. Easier to focus on his the arm around his waist and the hand in his hand. Easier to believe this is practice. One-two, three. Because that's all it's ever been to Jamil, isn't it? Not leisure. Not pleasure.

Kalim doesn't try to take back the lead. But he adjusts his footwork to wind them closer. Waltzing is too far a distance when they'd been a breath away from kissing only moments ago, and Kalim can't bear it. ]

I bet we could give them a run for their money.

You don't have to worry about that. Carpet would catch us.

[ Of that, Kalim is absolutely certain. Carpet likes them. Why would it let its friends plummet to their death?

It's hard not to notice how nice Jamil smells when they're curled this close to one another, harder still to escape the notice that his hair looks immaculately soft. Kalim's fingertips itch to touch, but his hand is slow to shift, creeping up Jamil's chest until he can curl his fore and middle fingers around a wayward bit of that silky hair. It is soft. And now he'll never want to stop touching it. ]

Is this okay?

[ Toying with Jamil's hair, he means. But if Jamil were to interpret it differently, no one would blame him. ]

Why wouldn't it be okay?

[Hair, curling up like he's a cat, the fact that they're on carpet and Jamil's got the sinking suspicion that he's neither going to get around to drowning Kalim nor that they'll get around to studying...really? He's not sure what, specifically, Kalim is talking about, but...whatever Kalim's talking about is fine. For once.]

Unless Ace flies by on a broom solely to point and laugh, or something along those lines happens, I'm fine.

[Whatever...it is, but still.]

Oh?

[Oh, Jamil says, in a sharper, more...interested way, in the same way that a predator might be interested in noticing that his prey had just let down his guard and seemed to be in no hurry to raise it again. That sort of interest. If he was a beastman, something canine or feline, perhaps, his ears would be pricked forward, interested, focused.

Jamil's a human, not a beastman: his ears remained where they were. He just politely waltzed, letting Kalim pull closer, leading them through turns as they danced.]

Maybe you're right. [Hmm. Look at him thoughtfully thinking about this, hmmmmm.] That said, I don't particularly remember the specifics; I remember the dance, and I remember some of the songs, and I remember Najma talking to me about the movie. If you want us to do better, Kalim, you'll have to refresh me on what happened. What was their kiss like?

I'll make enough for the both of us. It'll be a few minutes.

[Just a few minutes of him staring at the pot and wondering what it is that he's doing, that's all, that's it, no big deal.

A Scarabian student is about to walk into the kitchen, sees Jamil, and just walks out again as the vice housewarden is in a mood. Jamil doesn't notice any of this as he's too busy staring at his phone.]

I don't know if you like your hair played with.

[ Which is strange in and of itself, now that Kalim stops to consider it. They know everything about each other, don't they? They've been together for so long, one would think it would've come up before now. But here's something new. Here, on the other side of complete chaos and a redefinition of everything they've ever meant to one another, suddenly there are new things to learn.

And Jamil only becomes more incredible with each new thing Kalim learns about him.

So, even though I'm fine is sometimes a double-edged sword, Kalim takes his chances. His fingers wind slowly up this little skein of Jamil's hair, until they're far enough over to comb through and bring more over his shoulder. An ample amount to delicately thread his fingers through, root to tip, like Kalim were petting a particularly ornery cat instead of his best friend's hair. ]

Does Najma ever play with your hair when you're home? I don't even have that much, and the little ones still like to stick bows in it.

Short.

[ That's the thing about cinematic kisses. They're for entertainment. They lack sincerity. ]

But the actors had good chemistry. Their characters were written really well, so you were rooting for them the entire film. So I think it was more about that, you know? It was the payoff of a really satisfying lead-up.

[ One-two, three. Maybe they'd already outlived the climax of their story, though. This has all been so alien since Jamil's overblot. Hot and cold, shades of grey that never existed before. Kalim is familiar with some parts, and others are strange to him. One-two, three.

Case in point, Kalim can't wrap his head around why Jamil is asking. Sometimes he just can't read between the lines. What was their kiss like? Why does he want to know? ]

But at the end of the song, he lifted her up. He was holding her legs so that her head was a little higher than his, and then she leaned down to kiss him while he still held her. And there were flower petals everywhere.

Thank you! I'm just getting changed out of my lab things, so I'll be a minute anyway.

[ Trying to change out of his lab things, anyway. It's hard to make headway when he keeps diving back for his phone every time a notification chimes. Just in case it's Jamil. It feels important not to keep him waiting right now. ]

[Staring off into the darkness, Jamil takes a picture of the kettle and sends it to Kalim, noting,]

It's taking forever to boil.

[Has it always been this long? He doesn't know. But Jamil prepares the tea, gets honey and clove, takes a deep breath, resists the urge to scream, is consumed by the sudden need to fill the sink with water, stick his head into the water, and scream. (The water muffles his noise, see?)

He does not scream. He also does not run off into the desert to avoid this. He steels himself, takes the tray with the tea, and two teacups, and heads over to Kalim's room. He stands outside and...hesitates, and then feels dumb and knocks on the door.

(He'd walk in, but Kalim mentioned changing, so.)]

Kalim, it's me.

[He adds in a few more turns, a slip pivot, a natural turn, as they are dancers, yes? They can do more than just a box step in place. Nothing too elaborate, just enough to keep the movement flowing between them.]

Well, it does make sense. A movie is a story, stories consist of more than just one moment. Moments are memorable not just for what happens in that moment, but for what leads up to it and what follows afterwards.

[They danced to no music, and it's quiet and the air is sharp - not unpleasantly so, but it had a sharpness to it that made Jamil feel like he could do anything - and they're dancing atop a tomb. A replica of one, but still a tomb. And Jamil huffs, not quite a laugh, an amused noise.]

I have no flowers. I probably should have put on a new song. And I don't feel like lifting you up, so we won't be doing better than them tonight, Kalim.

[But he still kisses him. Jamil still pulls Kalim in close, and kisses him, soft but insistent, a little demanding, his bracelets cool against the nape of Kalim's neck as he holds him there and he kisses him. His fingers lightly trace Kalim's skin and he kisses him. It's not for entertainment, and whether or not it's sincere is only something Kalim can judge. But it's not short.]

I usually don't like having my hair played with.

[Usually being the important word there, usually being the word doing a bunch of heavy lifting in this sentence. Usually implying all sorts of things, most of which Jamil isn't going to talk about unless he's absolutely forced to, and not for the first time is he glad that Kalim doesn't have some kind of truth-compelling spell. Water magic doesn't demand honesty.]

And I try not to let Najma near my hair. When we were younger it was a different story. She liked to play with my hair, and I usually did her hair for her. But now...

[Now she's got the power to do his hair in a silly way, take pictures, and send it to Kalim, absolutely not.]

It's ok! We don't have anywhere to be.

[ No need to rush. Kalim isn't going anywhere. Jamil doesn't have to scream or run off into the desert. They can do this. They can discuss these things in a reasonable way.

That's Kalim's mantra while he dresses. Adamantine resolve. They can do this. They'll figure this out. They'll come out better on the other side for having worked it out sensibly. It's fine. They're fine.

And that all comes to a screeching halt -- squealing tires and breaking glass in Kalim's mind -- when he finally hears Jamil at the door.

He's dressed down when he answers. No headwrap, no uniforms; just loose pants and a vest. He's still fastening his earrings while the door swings open and he grins at Jamil as if he's not here to either discuss or actively engage in-- whatever they're calling it now. Menagerie safety. ]

Come in! [ It's almost sing-song, and then Kalim heads toward the couch. ]

[ It's almost poetic, the way Jamil talks about moments and what follows afterwards. Like he's weaving symmetry out of Kalim's disjointed and mismatched thoughts, like he's pulling them out of Kalim's head and making perfect sense of them. Maybe that shouldn't surprise Kalim. They've known each other all their lives, grown together. It stands to reason that Jamil should read his mind.

The kiss, however? That surprises Kalim.

Kissing is like dancing for them. It comes more and more naturally every time it happens, and now -- perhaps simply because it's in the wake of dancing -- it's flowing in a way it never has before. Kalim melts to it without question, all-in the moment Jamil's lips are upon him. Undemanding but hungry, pulling at Jamil's mouth with lips and teeth and tongue. It could be called devouring. And now that Jamil's started this, he'll have to be the one to end it too. ]

Well, just let me know if you want me to stop. I promise I'll be gentle!

[ To that end, he's only been gentle. Careful, in a way Kalim never used to be. Idly stroking Jamil's hair, drifting higher and higher, until Kalim's fingertips can sink themselves into slow circles over his scalp instead. ]

It always feels nice when you do this for me. It's only fair to return the favor, right?

[It's fine until it's not, and he's suddenly face to face with Kalim, and Jamil's faced with the conflicting urges to throw the tea to the ground and yell at Kalim, versus the sudden need to pin Kalim to the wall and force himself on him.

...he'll blame that on the stress of the day.

Jamil does neither. He follows Kalim in. He quietly curses that Kalim's heading towards the couch which means they'd be sharing a couch instead of two tiny seats, but he heads over like it doesn't bother him. Places the tray with the pot and cups on a table. Pours two cups, and before he can second guess himself, prepares Kalim's cup just the way he knows he likes it.

...and then prepares his cup the same way, which brings up the question as to why he didn't just- feelings are complicated.]

Here.

[One cup for Kalim, and Jamil sits down on the couch like he owns it. What? When in stressful situations like this, one has to establish dominance lest people suspect that you know you don't belong. You just had to...squash down your feelings and carry on casually.

...]

...

[How was he supposed to bring up the menagerie, this is terrible, he has so many things he wants to ask, so many things he wants to say.]

Your tutoring ran late. I was half-wondering if you'd turn in early because of it.

[Look, an icebreaker.]

I suppose.

[Jamil says, shifting his grip around Kalim to pull him in a little bit tighter, his eyes fluttering shut, a certain tension melting from his shoulders the more Kalim rubs, his head even leaning slightly into Kalim's touch. He supposes it might be just a little bit nice. Just a bit.]

But you don't need to return the favor, you know.

[Even if all signs point to Kalim having a tough time if he tries to wiggle loose.]

OPEN // OVERFLOW

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