"Well- you're big and warm and smell nice to her?" Probably. "Also you got that deep meaty heartbeat going on so that makes her feel comfortable and safe. Probably sees you as a mother figure."
Cats don't really do co-parenting with fathers, he thinks. It's usually just the mother taking care of things.
Locus looks doubtful at this, but he doesn't have enough experience with cats to argue. "It's...odd. Having something that requires looking after."
He doesn't protect. He hasn't. But it seems like some facet of that is starting to shift. It's in the way he takes to the cat, the way he tries to accommodate York when he's obviously enduring some manner of distress.
"Reminds you to take care of yourself, right? Having to take care of her." Can't ignore his physical needs when he's got to keep an eye on what Luna requires. Can't really lock himself up in his head and brood when she's all affectionate and pleasant.
And now York's got a perfect excuse to come over- not that he needed one. Simply hanging around is just what he does.
"She likes you plenty though- don't you little lady?"
"She seems to like everyone," Locus points out readily, and it's true. She seems taken with York, flopping around in his lap as he pets her before stretching almost daintily and resettling herself, purring all the while.
He seems to attract these social creatures to him. Somehow.
"She hasn't learned to be particular yet, huh? Gracious little lady deigning to allow us the pleasure of her company." Her adorable company- he loses a little time rubbing her soft fur, feeling the rumble of her purr, the burring counterpoint that is Locus' voice.
This is real. This is solid. It's starting to stick more and more but-
"...do me a favor?" It's stupid, he knows it's stupid, enough so that he's not looking up at Locus when he asks. "Can you just- say that this is real? Out loud?"
Locus's heavy brows furrow as he draws back slightly, just enough to look down at him, expression solemn, those pale eyes intent.
"This is real."
It's not foolish if that's what he requires. They're all a little messed up, in need of something or another that makes them feel weak or silly. But having people you trust means trusting them to give you what you need.
He'd thought all the tension was gone. That he didn't have anything left locked tight in quiet existential dread, that he was settled. Four words and he's proven wrong, some sort of half held breath and fried wiring in his spine going cool and calm.
Locus just continues to stare down at him, some mixture of uncertainty and lingering concern muddling in his expression. There ought to be more he can do. But this seems to be enough for York to go completely at ease.
He accomplished that. What a strange thought.
"...of course," he finally responds, averting his gaze once again.
Now he feels grounded. Settled. More in his skin and more sure that this is actually happening and North is actually here and god that's gonna get complicated in short order.
"...I should introduce y'all." A beat. "You and North, I mean. You've got similar skillsets and he'd probably like talking shop with someone that understands the whole 'sit still for fucking ever for one shot' thing."
Which is fine. Everyone is bound to have one, obviously. And if York is still coming here then it's unreasonable to assume he will cease because he has his best friend back.
He lets his hand stroke idle lines down Luna's back as she drapes herself over York's lap, legs stretched out in front of her and blue eyes closing sleepily.
"Five years ago when shit was very different. I don't know how we'll fit, now. Too many variables have changed on my end, I don't know how that'll sit in the overall equation." An odd way to frame it but- Locus gets how he sees the world now. Not much to worry about there.
"I'm gonna have to relearn how to hang out with him without letting baggage from the Project get in the way."
It's an important question, where friends are concerned. And it will frame his own experiences with North, since he trusts York's opinions of people. For the most part.
He's still a little doubtful, where he himself is concerned.
"Uh- yeah?" That's not a dumb question, but it doesn't strike him as particularly relevant. Trusting North kinda goes in the same bag as trusting Locus now. It's just a rule of his world. The Sky Is Blue, Meat Is Fake, and he trusts them.
Locus shrugs, as though it's really just as simple as that.
"There are people here I would not have imagined being my friends. Yourself included. But I trust you. So no matter what transpires, what new information forms or what happens to us...I know that I can trust you. That you are my friend. The rest will find a way."
"...I dunno if you're being overconfident in my ability to people well or if I should just feel glad someone thinks I know what I'm doing." Either way? he's good here, with a cat on his lap and someone that trusts him to lean on.
He is after all a Simple Taylor with Simple Needs.
No sooner is it out of his mouth than he suddenly goes very still and very quiet. Hopefully, Taylor just doesn't notice. After a moment he lets out a small huff under his breath, shifting.
"Well- yeah?" Wait that seemed a little. He ticks back mentally through what Locus has said about Felix (since the dude is sort of omnipresent and relevant at the moment) and waits for whatever comes after.
Taylor shifts enough to tip his head up at Locus, eyes wide and worried as he changes the subject. "I'm gonna have to live here now, man."
Luna is asleep. He can't move. "Got a terminal case of cat lap."
Nothing comes after. He doesn't want to discuss Felix, even if it proves an eventuality. When York changes the subject, Locus noticeably relaxes, even if only by a few degrees of stiffness in his shoulders.
"Hm." And his eyes drift to where Luna is curled, little belly rising and falling as one paw rests over her tiny grey nose.
"For the record I'm very proud of your making jokes." He is. It fills a small part of him with warm fuzzy glee at tugging something out of Locus other than amused exasperation. "But this is serious. I can't move."
With all due mock seriousness because look at her. Look. At. Her. "I'm gonna spend the rest of my life as a Luna Bed."
He does have a dry sense of humor lurking under the surface, even if he does sometimes take things more literally than he ought to, or lacks the empathy to know his audience and pitch a joke correctly. Wry observations and sarcasm? That he can do.
And Locus tips his head, brushing a little closer to York's as he does so, to observe the sweetly sleeping animal. "I'm sure she's very grateful."
"I dunno, this is pretty terrible." So terrible. It's torture, rubbing the top of her head while she makes soft little kitten snores. Tiny little squeaks at irregular intervals. Maybe he should get...something.
The doctor was pretty adamant that it'd help him remember to take care of himself and stuff.
"It's nice, isn't it? Having someone to come home to."
Locus frowns thoughtfully, considering how the past few days have already altered considerably, with an unpredictable little creature running around.
"Before, returning here was something like stasis. I felt detached. That sense of unreality you mentioned?" Maybe not quite as severe as considering this all some post-mortem hallucination, but disassociating all the same.
"Different can be good." Or Jarring. Or. Stimulating- something to get you to move.
"Might be worth looking into, I dunno. Adding some stuff in here that's just for you but not connected to your time back home? That's sort of worked for me." A little. Then again Locus has a fucking adorable kitten now so that's something.
He's...not much for decorating. Letting things accumulate tended to result in fidgeting, something he'd like to avoid if possible. But York has a point. Something stimulating doesn't sound like so terrible a thing.
"Paintings?" Decorating isn't a thing for him so much as his place was an accumulation of 'what adults with homes have' and some expansions on the same. "Houseplants that won't be bad for her to chew on, cuz some cats do that."
Pissed his mom off something fierce.
"I dunno, man, what do you like that isn't work, training, or getting sloshed on the beach with me and Azucar?" A beat. "Or yelling at Wash?"
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Cats don't really do co-parenting with fathers, he thinks. It's usually just the mother taking care of things.
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Locus looks doubtful at this, but he doesn't have enough experience with cats to argue. "It's...odd. Having something that requires looking after."
He doesn't protect. He hasn't. But it seems like some facet of that is starting to shift. It's in the way he takes to the cat, the way he tries to accommodate York when he's obviously enduring some manner of distress.
This...could be something he does.
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And now York's got a perfect excuse to come over- not that he needed one. Simply hanging around is just what he does.
"She likes you plenty though- don't you little lady?"
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He seems to attract these social creatures to him. Somehow.
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This is real. This is solid. It's starting to stick more and more but-
"...do me a favor?" It's stupid, he knows it's stupid, enough so that he's not looking up at Locus when he asks. "Can you just- say that this is real? Out loud?"
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Locus's heavy brows furrow as he draws back slightly, just enough to look down at him, expression solemn, those pale eyes intent.
"This is real."
It's not foolish if that's what he requires. They're all a little messed up, in need of something or another that makes them feel weak or silly. But having people you trust means trusting them to give you what you need.
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This is real. Locus is real. This kitten is real.
"...thanks."
It's tentative, his peering up. "Really. Thanks."
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He accomplished that. What a strange thought.
"...of course," he finally responds, averting his gaze once again.
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"...I should introduce y'all." A beat. "You and North, I mean. You've got similar skillsets and he'd probably like talking shop with someone that understands the whole 'sit still for fucking ever for one shot' thing."
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Which is fine. Everyone is bound to have one, obviously. And if York is still coming here then it's unreasonable to assume he will cease because he has his best friend back.
He lets his hand stroke idle lines down Luna's back as she drapes herself over York's lap, legs stretched out in front of her and blue eyes closing sleepily.
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"I'm gonna have to relearn how to hang out with him without letting baggage from the Project get in the way."
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It's an important question, where friends are concerned. And it will frame his own experiences with North, since he trusts York's opinions of people. For the most part.
He's still a little doubtful, where he himself is concerned.
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He can't not.
"He's good people."
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Locus shrugs, as though it's really just as simple as that.
"There are people here I would not have imagined being my friends. Yourself included. But I trust you. So no matter what transpires, what new information forms or what happens to us...I know that I can trust you. That you are my friend. The rest will find a way."
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He is after all a Simple Taylor with Simple Needs.
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No sooner is it out of his mouth than he suddenly goes very still and very quiet. Hopefully, Taylor just doesn't notice. After a moment he lets out a small huff under his breath, shifting.
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Taylor shifts enough to tip his head up at Locus, eyes wide and worried as he changes the subject. "I'm gonna have to live here now, man."
Luna is asleep. He can't move. "Got a terminal case of cat lap."
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"Hm." And his eyes drift to where Luna is curled, little belly rising and falling as one paw rests over her tiny grey nose.
"We'll have Washington move your things in."
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With all due mock seriousness because look at her. Look. At. Her. "I'm gonna spend the rest of my life as a Luna Bed."
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He does have a dry sense of humor lurking under the surface, even if he does sometimes take things more literally than he ought to, or lacks the empathy to know his audience and pitch a joke correctly. Wry observations and sarcasm? That he can do.
And Locus tips his head, brushing a little closer to York's as he does so, to observe the sweetly sleeping animal. "I'm sure she's very grateful."
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The doctor was pretty adamant that it'd help him remember to take care of himself and stuff.
"It's nice, isn't it? Having someone to come home to."
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Locus frowns thoughtfully, considering how the past few days have already altered considerably, with an unpredictable little creature running around.
"Before, returning here was something like stasis. I felt detached. That sense of unreality you mentioned?" Maybe not quite as severe as considering this all some post-mortem hallucination, but disassociating all the same.
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"Might be worth looking into, I dunno. Adding some stuff in here that's just for you but not connected to your time back home? That's sort of worked for me." A little. Then again Locus has a fucking adorable kitten now so that's something.
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He's...not much for decorating. Letting things accumulate tended to result in fidgeting, something he'd like to avoid if possible. But York has a point. Something stimulating doesn't sound like so terrible a thing.
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Pissed his mom off something fierce.
"I dunno, man, what do you like that isn't work, training, or getting sloshed on the beach with me and Azucar?" A beat. "Or yelling at Wash?"
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