ax_main | Nolan and Shaun (Pre-Mojoverse)

Nolan finally triggers a vision, and it's about Shaun. Afterwards, Shaun is there to take care of him, which Nolan both needs and kind of hates.

Nolan really should feel some measure of victory at the fact that he had finally managed to trigger a vision, after long months of meditation and mental training. Professor Xavier had done what he could to mitigate the effects, since he was actually present for once, and while the vision had held more integrity than usual, and remained more fixed in Nolan's mind than the usual dream-like ones he had had so far, this did not mean that it had come without a seizure. It had been just as hard on his brain as usual, it seemed.

After spending such a long time without a vision, it actually felt as if it had been worse.

So once he felt that he could safely make the short trip back to his apartment in the graduate building, Nolan did so and curled up in bed, on top of his covers, fully clothed. Everything felt so taxing, and he wanted nothing more than to take a nap. However, he had a date to cancel first, and he managed to focus long enough to fire off a quick text to Shaun.

Raincheck for tonight? Sorry.

He was too soundly asleep to hear his phone beep when the answer came, and he had no idea that he had left his front door ajar on his way in.

awwwwwwww you okay?

The message flickered on Nolan's screen, followed by Shaun's usual scattering of multi-colored heart emoji. When minutes passed with no response, and silence from the rest of the building's floor, Shaun's front door opened. A second later, Nolan's front door closed, very softly, with Shaun on the inside of it. He padded quickly through the apartment, saying Nolan's name in a quiet, quizzical voice, until he reached the bedroom. If he breathed a sigh of relief, he was glad that Nolan looked very much asleep and didn't hear.

Shaun made his way over to the bed, carefully slipped Nolan's shoes off if nothing else, and found a light blanket to stretch out over his curled-up form. That done... he didn't want to leave. Nolan looked exhausted, and sleep was the best thing for him, but Shaun would rather be still and silent with Nolan than anything else without him. Besides, of the two of them, Shaun was the late sleeper. He almost never got to see Nolan like this. Unguarded, resting, beautiful, and maybe a little bit in need of Shaun's care and protection. Just a little.

He pulled his hair back with one hand so it wouldn't tickle his boyfriend's face, and bent down to touch a faint kiss to his temple, barely a brush of lips and beard for just a moment.

It was a good half hour later before Nolan began to shift in his sleep, a frown disturbing his features and making him look older than his years. He showed all of the signs of being caught up in a nightmare, sighing, fretting, even occasionally muttering some unintelligible words.

Shaun put his phone down and looked up from where he'd been sitting on the other side of the bed, idly scrolling through Pinterest. He shifted very gently, not wanting to disturb Nolan before he got the chance to comfort him. A warm hand hesitated at first, then rested feather-light on Nolan's hair, just the fingertips petting to settle and soothe. Just enough so Nolan might know, somehow, he was there.

Nolan shifted again, turned into Shaun, and then away from him, and finally came awake with a gasp. His heart was hammering wildly in his chest, and instead of wisps of dream falling away from him, the vision he had had remained vivid and nearly inescapable. In his sleep, he had only added himself to the scenario, trying desperately to get Shaun to hear him, see him, but nothing had worked, and the vision had proceeded, exactly as Nolan had seen it.

He turned haunted eyes on Shaun now, and raised his fingers to touch his cheek, to assure himself that he was real, and that Nolan could touch him now.

No matter the hollow eyes and pained face, Nolan's was the face that Shaun loved, and he softened when Nolan came awake. Shaun finger-combed back the blond hair from Nolan's forehead, looking him over carefully. "Hey there. I'm here," he promised, tender and true. "Just breathe. It's okay. You're okay."

Nolan closed his eyes and shifted closer to Shaun, wrapping first one arm around him, and then the other, when he managed. He held on for a while, and let himself be held, then eventually, pressed a light kiss on Shaun's cheek. "Sorry. I... bad dream."

Shaun had both arms curled securely around Nolan as soon as he moved, tucking one under his neck and the other around his back, keeping him near. Warmth seemed to radiate from him as it always did, and Nolan fit perfectly into the curve of his body. He smiled when Nolan kissed him, despite his worry. It had been so long since he'd seen Nolan in this state, but it had to be worse for Nolan himself.

"You don't have to be sorry," Shaun promised, keeping his voice very low. "Just rest that incredible brain of yours. I got you."

Nolan hesitated for a moment; he wanted, badly, to talk to Shaun, but he was nowhere near rested enough. Exhaustion was tugging at him, attempting to draw him back to sleep. Perhaps with Shaun here, holding him, the dream would stay at bay. "Thank you," he murmured, and let his eyes close again, tension leaving his body.

After an hour or so, it seemed that Nolan would keep sleeping restfully, and so Shaun eased out of the snuggle and made sure that Nolan was comfortable before he got up. Out in the kitchen, he started poking around until he found ingredients for a decent noodle soup and started it cooking, with frequent peeks into the bedroom to make sure Nolan was still asleep. And breathing.

The soup was set to a low temperature on the stove to keep warm until Nolan was ready, and then Shaun poured a big glass of water and slipped back into the bedroom. He thought he'd heard a bit of rustling, and he didn't want to be far when Nolan woke. The way Nolan had touched him with such relief when he first woke, Shaun was pretty sure something in that dream was about him.

This time, Nolan came to more gradually. There was a nice smell in the air, and his stomach grumbled. He looked in the direction he expected to find Shaun, and smiled a little at the sight of him. Nolan still felt as if his brain was full of cotton, sluggish and inefficient, but Shaun was here. "Hey," he said quietly, voice roughened by sleep and, no doubt, what he had put it through while seizing.

"Hey, sexy," Shaun answered gently, settling beside him with the glass of water, which he offered in Nolan's direction. It was such a relief to see even a tiny smile and know that Nolan was as OK as he could be. He wanted to pull Nolan into his arms and kiss him all over, try to kiss away all of his pain and exhaustion. If only that were possible. Instead, he offered his free arm if Nolan needed help sitting up, and held the water for him until he was stable. "Here, drink a little. I've got some soup going. It won't be up to your usual gourmet standards, but I can promise it'll be digestible," Shaun said with a quirked smile.

Nolan felt as far from sexy as possible, but didn't comment, focusing instead on slowly sitting up, so he could get that glass of water, and took a few controlled sips. "Thank you," he told Shaun when he was done, his voice a little more like itself, gratitude clear in his eyes. Not just for the water, but also the soup, the care, the kindness. Nolan still hated that he needed all of this at all, hated showing weakness, hating being weak, but none of that was Shaun's fault, and he was resolved not to aim his irritation at his boyfriend.

"How long was I out?" he asked, looking around to spot his phone on the bedside table.

"All told, almost three hours," Shaun said promptly, since he'd checked the time just before coming into the room. The apartment was noticeably darker than before, but the sun set so late this far into summer that it wasn't properly night yet. He smiled somewhat crookedly. "It's cute how you seemed to think 'no date night' meant 'no Gilmore night.' Silly man," Shaun rumbled fondly.

He paused before asking, softer, "You want to talk about it?"

Nolan hadn't actually thought very much, in his state, but he wasn't going to point that out. Especially not when Shaun followed it up with that question. "Yes." At the same time, his stomach rumbled again, and he winced. "Over... you said something about soup?" He thought Shaun might have, but his brain was still struggling to remember even such small things. "I'll join you next door?"

He wanted a moment to himself, first, and to change out of his clothes.

Shaun didn't really want to leave Nolan alone for a second, but he knew his boyfriend, even if he didn't always understand him completely. For some reason Shaun couldn't comprehend, Nolan thought that the after-effects of a seizure made him look weak and helpless. As if he could do something about it. As if any human could just power through and bounce back from one of the most difficult things a body could endure.

Still, it didn't matter what Shaun thought. A minute alone was what Nolan needed, and Shaun wanted to give him what he needed. He rose from the side of the bed, slowly, and lingered for a second to smooth Nolan's hair with his fingertips. "Sure thing. Soup's on whenever you're ready," he said, his voice warm but not melting. Not condescending. Just regular, loving Shaun. Then he stepped away, and went to busy himself in the kitchen serving up dinner.

The change of clothes, Nolan hoped, would make him feel a little better about himself. Out with the rumpled, in with the... Well, soft cotton pants and tank top. All of them designer, despite their simplicity, but their primary purpose was comfort, rather than style. But mostly, Nolan wanted a moment to himself to simply be. Much as he loved Shaun, Nolan's brain did its best work on its own, without external stimuli to distract it.

And right then, his brain was definitely not in top shape. From past experience, he knew that focus would be difficult to achieve in the best circumstances, and he wanted a moment to think his vision over without Shaun's extremely distracting presence. His vision, the fact that he had managed to trigger it, and what it had shown him exactly. The way it had stuck in his brain, this time. Once changed into his comfort clothes, Nolan sat on the edge of his bed for a moment, fingers idly playing with Shaun's bracelet on his wrist as he tried to figure out what he wanted to say to Shaun, and mostly how.

But the hunger was not helping his focus, and before long he drifted next door, drawn to his boyfriend as he poured the soup into bowls. A hand on Shaun's hip as Nolan stepped up to his back, and Nolan pressed a kiss to Shaun's shoulder, thankful for his presence.

With a little sigh, Shaun relaxed back toward Nolan, tilting his head to nuzzle his cheek against Nolan's temple briefly. Of the two of them, Shaun was the one more likely to communicate through touch, but somehow Nolan said more. If Shaun didn't have his hands full with a ladle and bowl of steaming soup, he would have turned around to pull Nolan into his arms. Probably for the best, this way. They might get distracted, and Nolan was so quiet that Shaun felt sure he had something to say.

"Hello, love," Shaun hummed, drawing in a deep breath of the scent of Nolan's hair, his presence, before he slid back into care-taking mode. "Go ahead, have a seat, everything's ready." His small four-seat square dining table didn't get much use since Shaun mostly ate on the sofa or while doing something else, but this time, it was quickly set with silverware, a plate of Italian bread and some seasoned olive oil, and a healthy stack of napkins just in case. Shaun would be right behind him with the main course.

Nolan lingered for a moment, as he looked the dining table over, then trailed his hand off of Shaun as he moved to take a seat. Part of him still rankled at being taken care of, but he knew, intellectually, that there was nothing wrong with it. He remembered, distantly and vaguely, his mother taking care of him when he was little, and sick. But his father hadn't had time for that, even when he had been the only parent Nolan still had. No time for it, and no love for a boy who needed to be taken care of. Men were stronger than that.

Nolan exhaled through his nose, pushing away the unwanted feeling of inadequacy, and turned a small smile on Shaun. Focusing on his boyfriend was always the better option. "Thank you. For all this."

Nolan didn’t need to thank him, not at all, but if it meant something to Nolan then Shaun didn’t mind. He set one bowl in front of Nolan, scented with sage and thyme, and took a seat at Nolan’s side instead of across from him. It felt closer, more companionable, that way.

“It’s my pleasure, sweetheart,” Shaun said simply, not wanting to make that moment any more uncomfortable. With a warm smile, he settled in with his own bowl, giving Nolan room to say whatever he needed to.

Nolan, for a moment, focused on the soup, aware that taking the edge off his hunger would improve his ability to focus. Right then, every little bit helped. After a short while, he felt as if he might be able to think enough to have this conversation, or at least the bare bones of this conversation. "It happened during my session with Professor Xavier. So there is that. Finally triggering one."

Shaun stayed comfortably quiet until Nolan was ready, and listened when he spoke. It was both incredible information, and not nearly enough. It didn’t explain why Nolan had looked the way he did when he’d first woken. “That’s progress,” Shaun agreed, though he sounded somewhat resigned. Progress that caused Nolan pain wasn’t his favorite sort.

"I'm not sure," Nolan answered with a shake of his head. "The vision... made very little sense. You - didn't look any different, so it can't take place far enough into the future to make sense, and you all sounded..." Nolan shook his head slowly, thoughts tumbling together into a mess. "There was... the newest blue one, with the horns?" Of course Nolan knew her name, he made sure to look into the new arrivals as they came. But right now, he could not remember it for the life of him. "And Bobby, and... Loki's brother." Whose name he knew, too. The god of thunder.

"Jester," Shaun supplied, without judgement, "And Thor. They were with Bobby Drake and me? Jester's a friend, but I barely know the other two." That didn't necessarily mean anything, he knew. It was a weird mish-mash of people all around. Tension was creeping up the back of Shaun's neck, though he tried not to let it show. Was there some danger? Was someone going to get hurt?

"You were in her apartment," Nolan went on, brow knitting as the vision replayed in his mind. "And you weren't acting like yourself. Or. Too much like yourself? You made jokes, and there was laughter, but you never seemed to hear it. People laughing."

Nolan had severely overestimated his ability to talk about this and keep on eating at the same time; his bowl of soup now sat forgotten. More than the starkness of the memories, the eerie quality to the vision, his feeling of utter helplessness during the subsequent nightmare haunted him now, drawing his features into a harder, gaunter expression than he usually ever wore.

Shaun reached over and rested a light hand on the back of Nolan's wrist nearest him, a weight and presence of reassurance, he hoped. Seeing Nolan withdraw into that shell of self-protection was painful, bitter, knowing that the kind man he loved was inside. "I'm here right now," Shaun said after a moment's silence. "And it hasn't happened yet."

The rest of it didn't make any sense. Jester didn't have an apartment -- she lived in the dorms with Nott. And Shaun loved to make people laugh; why wouldn't he hear it, if he did? None of what Nolan said fit into any sort of pattern.

The touch on his wrist drew Nolan out of his memories, and he looked over at Shaun, took a deep breath. "I'd never had a vision with Professor Xavier at hand. He... fixed it in my mind? Or helped me fix it there?" Nolan sounded unlike himself to his own ears, as he tried to order his thoughts. "But - the more I think about it, go over it, the less it makes sense. The visions usually slip away from me like dreams, but this feels like a dream that I can't shake."

Try as he might to remain neutral and understanding, Shaun melted into empathy as Nolan struggled just to put meaning to words and speak them with confidence. It was so unlike him that it hurt Shaun's heart to listen, but it must have been a thousand times worse for Nolan. This was temporary, Shaun reminded himself. They would get through it. "You look like it's tearing you up," he said quietly, keeping the contact that seemed to help a little. "Did something happen? Something... bad?"

Nolan shook his head. "No, nothing." Something bad would make more sense. Terrible though it sounded, Nolan would have understood it better if something bad had happened. He shifted his hand lace his fingers with Shaun, slowly, deliberately, every decision bearing a cost, even a decision as easy as this one. "I can't shake it," he repeated, because that was it. It wouldn't leave him alone, and he couldn't make heads or tails of it. Nolan wasn't used to incomprehension and powerlessness, and the fact that this involved Shaun somehow only made it worse. Was he missing something? Or was it a dream, cooked up by his mind rather than an actual product of his prescient mutation?

"I dreamed about it," he added, with a frown. "It all happened the same. I was trying to make you hear me, respond to me, but I couldn't. You would walk right through me."

Finally, Shaun was starting to understand. Imagining the situation reversed -- trying to reach Nolan and being invisible, unheard -- made him shiver. That kind of vision would haunt him, too. Considering Nolan's wounded mental state after a seizure, added to the Professor sticking a pin in his mind, it sounded like torture. Shaun's fingers tightened securely around Nolan's, as though offering to take the lead even on something as simple as holding hands.

"Okay," said Shaun, taking a slow, deliberate breath. "So, this is going to happen. Maybe it's literal, and maybe it's like a... a metaphor. We don't know right now, but we can watch for pieces of the vision happening in real life, right?" He tilted his head, wanting to catch Nolan's gaze to promise him one thing: "You know I'd never be able to ignore you if I knew you were there. Never in a million years."

A metaphor. Why hadn't Nolan thought of that? His eyes lit up at the thought, and he squeezed Shaun's hand back. His brain had barely set itself into sluggish motion, trying to interpret what he had seen the same way one might a dream, when Shaun met his gaze, and Nolan nodded in answer to his words. "I know. It was just a dream - that part, anyway."

He slid his hand from Shaun's and moved to his feet, abandoning his forgotten meal. "I should write it all down. In case it doesn't stick around." His memory was unreliable at the best of times, after a seizure, after all, and he didn't think that the Professor could change that. He sat on his couch and pressed his thumb on a small pad underneath the top of the coffee table. A holographic interface came up and, after typing a long password, Nolan gained access to his system and pulled up an empty document to write in - or rather, dictate to. He had never been so personally grateful for the quality of his speech to text software.

Shaun nearly protested, but the way Nolan's blue eyes had caught the light, lost their dullness, and flashed with bright hope for a moment convinced him to remain silent. The soup would keep. He could warm it back up with another ladle from the pot, if needed. In the meantime, he took their respective bread plates and turned them upside-down over the soup bowls to keep too much steam from escaping. It was actually sort of amusing, the way Shaun was taking on the more practical role of seeing to the details that Nolan usually preferred, while Nolan was the distractible one instead of Shaun. Well, every relationship had its own balance.

He kept silent as Nolan dictated the vision and the dream, coming around to the sofa to sit nearby and listen. The details Nolan described sounded very strange. Shaun and Jester were likely to get up to hijinks together, but with Bobby and Thor nearby? And why were they behaving as if they didn't notice certain oddnesses, like the disembodied laughter? The worst part was that it all sounded strangely familiar, but Shaun didn't know why. He sat with his elbows on his knees, chin propped in his hands, while Nolan talked it all out.

Once he was done, Nolan reread the document to see if he had forgotten anything. It was much less ordered and straight-forward than he would have liked, but that was a problem for tomorrow, or even the day after that. The vision didn't feel urgent, at least. He shut down the system and shifted over to Shaun. "I should've thought to do that first."

When Nolan moved closer, Shaun reached out to wrap an arm around him and give him a squeeze. He wanted to hold Nolan, pet and coddle him, more than anything, but he knew that was what he wanted, not necessarily what Nolan did. "You were having trouble with complete sentences a few minutes ago," he said gently. "No 'should'ves'."

Nolan leaned into his boyfriend and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. He felt so vulnerable right then, Shaun's words only emphasizing that, but instead of pulling away and retreating into himself, Nolan forced himself to face that vulnerability. For Shaun and, perhaps, also for himself.

Still, he had to add, in a dry whisper meant to hide how tight his throat felt, "Don't remind me."

This wasn't something Shaun could fix with a hug and a kiss and a few sweet words -- no matter how much he wanted to try. Nolan was the strongest and the best man he'd ever known, and seeing him ashamed of his own body's natural vulnerability felt like a knife in his heart. "I'm sorry," he said, quietly but sincerely, and ruffled his fingers lightly through Nolan's hair. "I love you, Nolan. Nothing changes that."

How did Shaun always seem to know the persistent whispers of fear and doubt plaguing Nolan? Even those he would never voice? Tears welled up in his eyes, and he closed them and leaned his head into Shaun's touch. "I'm sorry," Nolan whispered, and opened his eyes to find Shaun's. How could he ever doubt him? He reached out to touch his fingers to Shaun's cheek. "I love you."

Shaun didn’t always know - sometimes he said stupid things, jumped to conclusions, worried about things that didn’t really matter. His passions ruled his thoughts, and there was no one in the world he was more passionate about than Nolan. From all that Shaun had seen, nothing could hurt Nolan worse than Nolan could hurt himself. The look in his eyes when he was chewing himself up inside was unmistakable.

Though he wanted to reach up and brush away the glitter of tears in Nolan’s eyes, he didn’t. Nolan felt what he felt and Shaun wouldn’t invalidate that. “Yeah you do,” he agreed softly, with the barest hint of a smile. “It’s okay, beautiful. Let’s get some food and water in you, and we can go back to thinking about this later.”

Much as part of Nolan still balked at being taken care of, there was also something liberating about being able to just let go and trust in Shaun. "Yeah," Nolan agreed on an exhale, and slowly pushed out of the couch, reluctant to move away from Shaun.

So Shaun stayed close, one hand lightly on Nolan's back just to stay in contact with him, as they moved back around to the table and the soup that was, hopefully, still hot enough to enjoy. Nolan was going to have to get used to someone caring for him, because Shaun had already made a life-long commitment in his heart, and he wasn't about to go anywhere.