[ Mako nods, sharp, and turns his face back into Wu's. ]
It probably was a Deerington thing. But it wasn't your fault.
[ He lets out a slow, quiet breath, pressing his fingers into Wu's hair and keeping them there. It's so good to have him back, here, even burning up like he is, even though he probably feels awful.
Even though Mako can still feel the press of cold fingers on his, can still hear the edge of fear and desperation in Wu's voice. He swallows, trying to breathe, trying to stay here on the bed with Wu. ]
[ It wasn't his fault. He knows that, he does, but hearing it helps. It's not easy, in a place like this, to be the only one who can't defend himself, the only one who keeps getting hurt, who keeps making Mako worry about him. He wishes he could be strong, that he could be like Mako or Korra or Raleigh, strong and ready to fight and willing to sacrifice himself, but he's not. That's not who he is, and no amount of training will get him there.
Training.
His brass knuckles.
He sits up a little, head spinning. ]
My stuff. Do you have my stuff? My books! My weapon! They were all there!
[ Careful and slow, Mako presses his lips to the pads of Wu's fingers, feeling the warmth of them (too warm, fever-warm, he really needs to get Wu some water) as his eyes slip shut.
Finally, some of the panic and discomfort, some of the hollowness, is receding. Mako doesn't like the sharp feeling it's being replaced with, but at least he's feeling something. His muscles relax almost on their own account, and he drops his other arm around Wu's waist to pull him closer. ]
Don't thank me.
[ The words are barely a mumble, weighed down as the exhaustion of the last week crashes into Mako all at once, filling his limbs with lead. ]
[ Wu opens his mouth to say something, but then those words sink in.
The people you love.
Wu squeezes his eyes shut against tears. He's exhausted, he's feverish, he's in pain, but those words pick something up inside of him, something that's been ignored for years, something that Wu had only held onto because Wu is nothing if not hopeful.
Mako loves him.
When was the last time someone told Wu they loved him?
His breath hitches, face hot, and then he's crying again, clutching at Mako's shirt, pressing his face into Mako's throat, his body shaking.
Fritter makes a small sound and wriggles out from between them, and Wu laughs even though that hurts, and drags himself even closer to Mako.
He died. He died, he tried to get away, but it did nothing. Sam broke his arm like it was nothing. Mako had to deal with his ghost, alone, Mako waited here for him, Mako loves him.
All of it is so much and Wu is crying and laughing and so incredibly happy and tired and scared at the same time that he can't make himself stop. ]
[ The sudden hitch of breath, the flood of tears, is kind of alarming, but Mako is too tired to do anything but tug Wu closer still, press Wu's head into his shoulder. His shirt is getting damp already, but he can't make himself care, not with Wu crying like this. The laughter is weird, a little worrying, but Mako just pushes his lips hard against Wu's temple and stays there, wrapped around him.
He can't fix this. Not really. He can't take away Wu's fever, he can't go back in time and save Wu from any of that pain, he can't even really make himself get up to get Wu more tea or water or anything. He can hug Wu, rest his lips against Wu's too-hot skin, and he can breathe and he can be here, and that's about it.
It will have to be enough. Mako curls around him like a blanket or a shield, like the shape of his own limbs will protect Wu from the rest of the world. He murmurs something like I'm here, more movement of lips than actual sound, and tangles his fingers into Wu's sweat-damp hair. ]
[ His hysterical crying last a while, pressed into Mako's skin. Mako is the only one he trusts with this, with his weakness. He isn't ashamed of it, but he doesn't trust that others won't use it against him.
Mako won't.
Mako loves him.
Eventually, he quiets, sobs turning into sniffs, his head dizzy, achy, compounding with his fever. ]
I love you, too.
[ When he finally says it, it's so much more sure than the last two times, colored by not knowing, not thinking, that Mako could return his feelings. Thinking that, like with everything else in his life, it would be one-sided, him wanting more, more than the other person could or would give him. But Mako is giving him more than he even dared ask for, and Wu loves him for it. Wu loves every part of him, from how awkward he is around new people to how single minded he gets when solving a problem to how deeply he cares about things, even when he probably wishes he didn't.
He cares about Wu, and that feels precious, something to be protected. ]
[ It hadn't quite occured to Mako, the weight of what he'd said. That Wu is easily lumped in with "the people I love," that Wu has maybe been there for longer than Mako thought. Wu, who Mako is so proud of, whose absence was a solid thing, a presence over Mako's shoulder, weighty and silent.
Who is trying, and growing, and who makes Mako want to try, too.
Who loves him.
Mako has been tracing quiet meaningless shapes on the back of his head for the last fifteen minutes, reminding Wu that he's here now because he couldn't be there before. He sighs a little with the words, hitches his other arm just a little tighter and splays his palm over Wu's back, between the wings of his shoulderblades. ]
Don't die again if you can help it. That was the worst week of my life.
[ Wu assures him quietly, staying close. It feels good, right, to have Mako's hands on him like this, to have his strong arms encompassing Wu, keeping him close. ]
It wasn't great for me either? The death. Not the week. Wasn't really, ah, aware. For that.
[ He bites his lip, his breathing more under control now. He looks up at Mako, fingers stroking gently down his chest. ]
[ Mako actually flinches back at the question. Doesn't try to hide it, doesn't try to hold it back, because this is Wu and he trusts Wu, and Wu will know how awful that space and silence is.
He is quiet for a long, long moment. Beside them, Fritter lets out a little sigh in her sleep.
Mako's eyes dart away, over to the heavy curtains rustling slightly in the breeze. ]
[ Wu wants to ask him to stay, but he can ask that when he's better, when he's sure he won't cry again if Mako tells him he thinks that's not a good idea.
[ Mako pushes another kiss against his cheek, a little clumsy, happy to have something to focus on that isn't the space and silence in his home. Happy that Wu wants him here, that he doesn't have to go back to that empty house. ]
Yeah. I'll heat it up. Uh—Sven is in the backyard. He... didn't leave.
[ Carefully, Mako shifts up and out from under Wu, his arm tingling from lack of use. Wu's still on top of the covers, so Mako sort of half-tugs Wu with him, pulling him easily into his arms so he can pull the covers down and then let Wu flop back down. ]
[ That feels really good, being pulled into Mako's arms like that. Yes, he feels awful, he's tired, he hurts all over, but Mako is here and he's taking care of Wu, and that's almost worth the deathflu.
He settles back down with a small smile, looking up at Mako, the guy he loves, who loves him, and says softly ]
You should come sleep with me. Uh.
[ Not what he meant. His face flushes and he laughs, reaching over to pet Fritter with his good arm ]
[ Mako is indescribably glad that Wu is back. He smiles (it's faint, barely a crease of his lips, but it's there) and leans down to push a soft kiss against Wu's lips. ]
[ Wu pouts at him, but he gratefully accepts the kiss, leaning in for a moment. ]
Yes. You do. I want you to sleep in this bed with me and Fritter. We can do, um, the more fun kind of sleeping together later, when I'm better. Because, honestly, I don't think I have it in me, and that's saying something because I think you're a dish.
The thing about Wu is that even though he has just died, and even though Mako has been through the ringer in the last week, has had every last feeling wrenched out of him and shoved back in a tangled awful mess, even though he is death-sick and spent the last twenty minutes crying on Mako—
He makes Mako laugh. Every time, even when he shouldn't. It happened back in Republic City, too, in the middle of some party when Wu would lean over and murmur something about somebody's clothes or what they'd said, and Mako would have to bite down on laughter.
It's kind of a relief and kind of nonsense, and it takes Mako a moment to even process what a dish is supposed to mean (something out of a mover, something Ginger gets called in the news, but Mako is not Ginger by a long shot).
But he's laughing, incredulous, maybe a little hysterical himself, as he drops his head against Wu's forehead. ]
You can't just go around calling people things like that.
[ The laughter is at once annoying and heartening, and when Wu decides that he isn't being laughed at, he joins in weakly.
He watches Mako. He really is beautiful when he laughs. His nose scrunches up, and the serious gaze he's always carrying softens and Wu loves it. He loves making Mako laugh.
He's so close now, forehead pressed against Wu's, and Wu closes his eyes, so glad that he's here. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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It probably was a Deerington thing. But it wasn't your fault.
[ He lets out a slow, quiet breath, pressing his fingers into Wu's hair and keeping them there. It's so good to have him back, here, even burning up like he is, even though he probably feels awful.
Even though Mako can still feel the press of cold fingers on his, can still hear the edge of fear and desperation in Wu's voice. He swallows, trying to breathe, trying to stay here on the bed with Wu. ]
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Training.
His brass knuckles.
He sits up a little, head spinning. ]
My stuff. Do you have my stuff? My books! My weapon! They were all there!
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His stuff. He’s asking about his stuff. ]
They’re here. Everything, don’t worry.
[ Mako pauses, collapsing back into the pillows. ]
Except your scarf. I... had to burn that, to get rid of the ghost.
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[ He remembers doing that for Mako, banishing his ghost. But at least they were there together, then. But Mako had to do this alone.
He reaches up to touch Mako's cheek. ]
Thank you. For doing that, for me.
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Finally, some of the panic and discomfort, some of the hollowness, is receding. Mako doesn't like the sharp feeling it's being replaced with, but at least he's feeling something. His muscles relax almost on their own account, and he drops his other arm around Wu's waist to pull him closer. ]
Don't thank me.
[ The words are barely a mumble, weighed down as the exhaustion of the last week crashes into Mako all at once, filling his limbs with lead. ]
That's what you do for the people you love.
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The people you love.
Wu squeezes his eyes shut against tears. He's exhausted, he's feverish, he's in pain, but those words pick something up inside of him, something that's been ignored for years, something that Wu had only held onto because Wu is nothing if not hopeful.
Mako loves him.
When was the last time someone told Wu they loved him?
His breath hitches, face hot, and then he's crying again, clutching at Mako's shirt, pressing his face into Mako's throat, his body shaking.
Fritter makes a small sound and wriggles out from between them, and Wu laughs even though that hurts, and drags himself even closer to Mako.
He died. He died, he tried to get away, but it did nothing. Sam broke his arm like it was nothing. Mako had to deal with his ghost, alone, Mako waited here for him, Mako loves him.
All of it is so much and Wu is crying and laughing and so incredibly happy and tired and scared at the same time that he can't make himself stop. ]
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[ The sudden hitch of breath, the flood of tears, is kind of alarming, but Mako is too tired to do anything but tug Wu closer still, press Wu's head into his shoulder. His shirt is getting damp already, but he can't make himself care, not with Wu crying like this. The laughter is weird, a little worrying, but Mako just pushes his lips hard against Wu's temple and stays there, wrapped around him.
He can't fix this. Not really. He can't take away Wu's fever, he can't go back in time and save Wu from any of that pain, he can't even really make himself get up to get Wu more tea or water or anything. He can hug Wu, rest his lips against Wu's too-hot skin, and he can breathe and he can be here, and that's about it.
It will have to be enough. Mako curls around him like a blanket or a shield, like the shape of his own limbs will protect Wu from the rest of the world. He murmurs something like I'm here, more movement of lips than actual sound, and tangles his fingers into Wu's sweat-damp hair. ]
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Mako won't.
Mako loves him.
Eventually, he quiets, sobs turning into sniffs, his head dizzy, achy, compounding with his fever. ]
I love you, too.
[ When he finally says it, it's so much more sure than the last two times, colored by not knowing, not thinking, that Mako could return his feelings. Thinking that, like with everything else in his life, it would be one-sided, him wanting more, more than the other person could or would give him. But Mako is giving him more than he even dared ask for, and Wu loves him for it. Wu loves every part of him, from how awkward he is around new people to how single minded he gets when solving a problem to how deeply he cares about things, even when he probably wishes he didn't.
He cares about Wu, and that feels precious, something to be protected. ]
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Who is trying, and growing, and who makes Mako want to try, too.
Who loves him.
Mako has been tracing quiet meaningless shapes on the back of his head for the last fifteen minutes, reminding Wu that he's here now because he couldn't be there before. He sighs a little with the words, hitches his other arm just a little tighter and splays his palm over Wu's back, between the wings of his shoulderblades. ]
Don't die again if you can help it. That was the worst week of my life.
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[ Wu assures him quietly, staying close. It feels good, right, to have Mako's hands on him like this, to have his strong arms encompassing Wu, keeping him close. ]
It wasn't great for me either? The death. Not the week. Wasn't really, ah, aware. For that.
[ He bites his lip, his breathing more under control now. He looks up at Mako, fingers stroking gently down his chest. ]
Your house is empty?
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He is quiet for a long, long moment. Beside them, Fritter lets out a little sigh in her sleep.
Mako's eyes dart away, over to the heavy curtains rustling slightly in the breeze. ]
...yeah. Kristoff and Anna are both gone.
So is Chloe.
And Bolin. If... Bolin was even here.
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Wu closes his eyes, shaking his head minutely. He takes a breath, lets it out.
They're back home, now. They'll be okay. ]
Mako, that-- I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I wasn't there.
[ Mako had to do this alone, alone in his own house, alone in Wu's. Wu hugs him tighter, pressing a messy kiss to his jaw ]
You should stay here. At least for now. To, ah, take care of me.
[ Mako doesn't like being taken care of. And if taking care of Wu can help Wu take care of Mako, he'll do it. ]
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Honestly, I... haven't slept in my own room. I was kind of planning on staying until you got better.
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He nods, pressing close. ]
I want you here.
Can I have that tea, now?
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Yeah. I'll heat it up. Uh—Sven is in the backyard. He... didn't leave.
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[ Wu doesn't really want him to leave, but his throat hurts. He lets out a breath. ]
We'll take care of him. I will, if you don't want to. Uh, when I'm better.
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[ Carefully, Mako shifts up and out from under Wu, his arm tingling from lack of use. Wu's still on top of the covers, so Mako sort of half-tugs Wu with him, pulling him easily into his arms so he can pull the covers down and then let Wu flop back down. ]
Stay here, try to sleep. I'll be back with tea.
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He settles back down with a small smile, looking up at Mako, the guy he loves, who loves him, and says softly ]
You should come sleep with me. Uh.
[ Not what he meant. His face flushes and he laughs, reaching over to pet Fritter with his good arm ]
You know what I mean.
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Do I?
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Yes. You do. I want you to sleep in this bed with me and Fritter. We can do, um, the more fun kind of sleeping together later, when I'm better. Because, honestly, I don't think I have it in me, and that's saying something because I think you're a dish.
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The thing about Wu is that even though he has just died, and even though Mako has been through the ringer in the last week, has had every last feeling wrenched out of him and shoved back in a tangled awful mess, even though he is death-sick and spent the last twenty minutes crying on Mako—
He makes Mako laugh. Every time, even when he shouldn't. It happened back in Republic City, too, in the middle of some party when Wu would lean over and murmur something about somebody's clothes or what they'd said, and Mako would have to bite down on laughter.
It's kind of a relief and kind of nonsense, and it takes Mako a moment to even process what a dish is supposed to mean (something out of a mover, something Ginger gets called in the news, but Mako is not Ginger by a long shot).
But he's laughing, incredulous, maybe a little hysterical himself, as he drops his head against Wu's forehead. ]
You can't just go around calling people things like that.
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He watches Mako. He really is beautiful when he laughs. His nose scrunches up, and the serious gaze he's always carrying softens and Wu loves it. He loves making Mako laugh.
He's so close now, forehead pressed against Wu's, and Wu closes his eyes, so glad that he's here. ]
Why not? It's true.
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[ There's no heat to the words, really; Mako is smiling, brushes a kiss against his cheek and sort of against his nose, and then stands. ]
Be right back. Then we'll, uh. Sleep together.
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[ He smiles dizzily after Mako, not wanting him to leave, but at least he'll come back. Wu gathers Fritter closer to himself. ]
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How about just "Mako"?
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