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(no subject)

Who: Char, Marie, Vinnie
What: A log full of punchings
Where: An unused classroom
When: Friday, March 23
Warnings: Violence and vomit.

Marie was a marked man. ...Boy. Manbaby. Okay, last week hadn't been kind to Char, but that was no reason to let his threats be empty ones. That little tit had messed with Bulba, and as long as Char's around, you don't mess with Bulba. Simple as that.

Classes had let out for the day. There hadn't been much hope of cornering Marie during class hours, and getting the kid on his own after the school day was done with had proven tricky, considering how Marie hadn't exactly been seeking Char out. This was gonna hafta be the best time to get it done -- that narrow little window of opportunity between Marie being safely in class and over in Sonny and Vinnie's dorm. He had his back against the door of a classroom that had been empty and unused for a while now, keeping a close eye on the crowd of departing students for any sign of his intended victim.

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"Be however the hell you wanna be, kid. I don't care. Just... try to be happy once in a while, alright?"

Empty words: he knew saying them wouldn't change anything. Stupid, how utterly bad he was at biting back the impulse to try and make something better. He just... really didn't know what to do with the kid anymore.

Might as well be pragmatic, runt. If every time you get close to the kid you bring a deluge of misery onto him, then isn't the closeness the problem here? It was nothing that he hadn't been suspecting for a while now, anyway: this desperate little make-believe game Char was playing? It wasn't helping Bulba. He just plain can't do it. Already had a mark sitting on his shoulder proclaiming that much: intention is worthless if you're not good enough to follow through.

And when were you gonna bring that up to the kid, anyway? Certainly not now. He's crushed enough without the extra burden of feeling like he's forced to martyr his friendship with Max too.

So, for the second time that afternoon, Char chose surrender. He scratched uncomfortably at his shoulder, eyes dropping off to the side. "Look, kid, I really am okay now. I know you're probably worried about those two. You don't gotta walk me all the way back."

Try to be happy once in a while.

Bulba tried to take that one in stride. Happiness was a funny thing to be self-conscious about. How often had something like that been said to him now? He was going to lose count if it kept up. It shouldn't have been an issue worth a passing thought on. It shouldn't have been anything that needed commented on in the first place. People just wanted him to happy.

It was harder to smile when you were aware of how much the people you loved hurt and you didn't know how to fix it, even if you were smiling for them.

He wanted to smile for Char, but now the dragon was confusing him. The Ivysaur's pace slowed slightly and he was looking at the ginger very intently now. This was weird. This was weird and Bulba didn't like it. It was almost as if...

While it was true that he was in fact pretty worried about the other two, this exchange right here was worrying him even more at the moment. ....Was he being dismissed? A very small seed of panic planted itself in his gut, but it was far too soon for it to flourish into anything. He wouldn't let it. Not that one. That one could stay deeply buried and rot away with all the old thoughts like it. That was done.

"No, I want to," he said a little quickly. It was all he could think to say. "At least let me do that."

There were times when Char came close to being afraid of Bulba, and this was probably one of them. He felt oddly... cornered. Char was more than aware of what this hastiness in Bulba's words meant -- his sharp-tongued Charmeleon years had given him more than enough experience with that. What kind of sick, twisted catch-22 was this? Try to make up for that kind of shit, you hurt the kid. Try to back off and leave it to people who know what they're doing, and you're just falling back on the original flavour of emotional harm. He'd slowly been coming to realize that maybe he just wasn't capable of being a brother, but did it run so deeply that the only choices he had really just boiled down to how to fuck the kid up the least?

Char backed up a pace, hands up placatingly. "Kid, no, relax. It ain't the Charmeleon bullshit. I still like you. I just... I really am fine, okay? I'm goin' back to my dorm, and I'm probably just gonna sleep. It's gonna be boring as fuck. That's all it is."

What. Oh. The Charmeleon call out caught Bulba completely off guard, and he realized just how easy it was to slip back into being a nervous, little Bulbasaur that wasn't quite sure what to do with his brother. Some things were harder to change, apparently. Bulba kind of hated that. Just one more evidence of how much he was still a dumb kid.

"... I know," he mumbled as he awkwardly ruffled his hand through the back of his shorter hair. As much as he might have worried he really did know that this wasn't an issue of not being liked by the Charizard. Everything that had happened to cause this conversation in the first place wouldn't have even happened if he didn't, right?

His hand lingered at the base of his neck and he gave a short sigh. "Okay, okay, you win." Bulba wouldn't sit in or around your room in an awkwardly worried fashion. One small victory (?) for Char. "I'm going back to my room though, so..." So that victory (???) was not as complete as Char would have liked (?!). He was stuck with a motherhenning Ivysaur for a while longer.

Hooray for... vic...tories...?

How was it even possible to be this awkward around somebody you'd been spending time with every day for like ten freakin' years? This was stupid and it sucked and he hated it. Wasn't this kind of thing supposed to be easy? All Bulba wanted back in the Bulbasaur years was someone who was willing to let him in. Be all... huggy and open and stuff. All Char wanted now was to compensate for the avalanche of mistakes he'd buried his little brother under. If that meant taking Vinnie's long-ago dad-lecture advice and shoving away his own nature, if that meant trying to be a Venusaur, fine. He was ready and willing to do that. Almost desperate to let Bulba in.

And yet, the mistakes just kept piling up and piling up with every attempt he made at this. Maybe this wasn't something you got infinite chances at. Maybe the reason he kept on making things worse was because he'd already blown his chance the minute he sent that first email to Aiden. That would explain why every single option just seemed to pile onto Bulba's suffering -- even this! Was he supposed to call this the good outcome? Bulba just seemed mildly uncomfortable instead of beside himself with distress, at least. Did... did he maybe need a hug or something? Was that a thing that'd help?

Again, Char's wings gave an uncertain twitch, "arms" tempted to do what his real arms were too tense to do, but in the end, they still did nothing. Just folded tighter against his back. N... no. That wasn't gonna be of much help. The atmosphere was already awkward, Char smelled like blood and puke and Toxic fumes, and his temperature was probably uncomfortably warm after the desperate adrenaline kick of Blaze activating. "Well. Okay." Char offered by way of reply. His almost-shy scratching shifting down to his hand, subconsciously flaking off the blood that had dried there.

"...I won't do it again," he added. That much, at least, should be safe to say. Right?

Show and Tell had never, ever been a thing that Green Team was very good at in any capacity.

Showing was always something that Bulba had learned was kind of embarrassing at best and that no one on the team was all too fond of it. It was only somewhat recently that he'd been able to start being as physically comfortable as he wanted to be with even Green, and that was probably only because the trainer had mellowed out some. As far as he was aware, the wall that Char had put up in regards to things like that was still standing strong. Sometimes Bulba had been able to sneak past it, but he knew it had always been with a certain amount of awkwardness for the Charizard. The unspoken mandates about what was and wasn't acceptable were ground in pretty far. When a touch was how Bulba naturally felt like conveying something, it was hard.

Telling was something that all of them were miserable at. None of them were very good about talking about their feelings, even now. Rhys was the only one that was ever pretty okay at it.

Between one or the other, it was remarkable that they had even got this far. But when it came down to situations like right here and now, it left Bulba at a complete loss of what he should do. The answer of how to express the feelings caught up in his chest eluded him. He didn't know how to put them into words properly when they were so conflicted with each other, and he still didn't think he was allowed to pass the boundaries set up by small half-touches.

... Then again, maybe he just didn't care anymore.

Yeah. Maybe he didn't.

Bulba took a step closer to him, boldly nuzzling his face against Char's shoulder. It still looked pretty weird in people terms, but whatever. And yeah, Char kind of smelled extremely gross, but what else was an Ivysaur for? Now he was going to smell like blood and puke and Toxic fumes and the pleasant aroma of flowers. Awesome.

"Listen," he murmured against the clothe of Char's sleeve, turning his head slightly to be heard better. "I don't... I don't like how things ended up." Obviously not. Not that he really knew at this point just how bad things had gotten, but he could at least say that he hated the sinking feeling in his gut when he thought about the state the room was in. He hated seeing how Char had ended up.

"... I don't think it was really worth the trouble." He didn't want to see anyone he cared about getting hurt on his behalf, even if that hadn't been exactly what they were aiming for. He didn't want anyone he cared about getting hurt because of him either. What a mess.

"You really didn't have to but... I can still appreciate why." At least he thought he could. All of his feelings regarding this whole thing were a mess and he didn't really know what to do about it.

Yeah. He really hadn't made it easy on the kid. Touch still wasn't a thing that came so easily to him; even if Char had been predisposed to seek out contact like Bulba, the mark of Aiden's neglect wasn't washed off so easily. For almost half his lifespan, physcal contact had only been a thing that happened when you were fighting somebody off. It'd taken a decade and a brush with death for Char to progress beyond the split-second shy touches with Green, and that was with somebody who was completely attuned to his way of thinking.

Bulba was a whole different kettle of fish. He meant well, yes, but that anxious desire to somehow just make the kid happy could be just as much of a hinderance -- the more Char second-guessed his actions, the more his guard went up. Never quite knowing exactly what it was that the kid needed of him, never being certain when his attempts to reach out would just burn the Ivysaur yet again... it was easy to start thinking that any sort of proximity might end up hurting him. Even now, when Bulba was making it perfectly clear what it was he wanted from Char, there was the split-second of hesitation. Like he was faced with something so fragile that he wasn't entirely sure his rough blood-splattered hands could even take hold of it without breaking it.

It was, however, only that: a split second. Even if the smarter part of him whispered of the risks of setting Bulba off once again, even if the aloof Charizard part resisted this kind of sentimental stuff, the big brother part of him couldn't keep from trying one more time. He wasn't quite sure if Bulba's words were comforting or had him even more uneasy about what he'd done, so he said nothing in response. Instead, those nervous hands ceased their scratching, and pulled the Ivysaur in for a hug. It wasn't really anything special, as far as hugs went: the gesture was awkward and unnatural at best. Char hadn't given anyone a hug -- a proper one -- since... well, probably since his Charmander days, and he couldn't quite shake off the idea that he needed to treat with the utmost caution -- like anything beyond a feather-light touch would shatter Bulba like glass. Still, imperfect though it may have been, the gesture was there nonetheless.

Not anything special, his foot. A tiny part of Bulba's mind shattered slightly in that moment.

If anything, Bulba had been expecting a brush off as they continued down the hall. Maybe a nod. This was not the begrudging touch in return, if he had actually been lucky enough for any, that Bulba would have been used to. This wasn't the barely there caress of a wing, or the hesitant pat on the head. Even though the Ivysaur knew exactly what this was he could hardly dare to process that it was happening at first.

His mouth hung open for a moment, the surprised syllable of Char's name hanging there before he swallowed it back, opting to stay silent. It was awkward at best, as far as hugs went. The sharp scents of blood and feverish sweat were more apparent, and the uncomfortable warmth emanating from Char's body was harder to ignore with his arms around the grass type. It was as if they weren't quite sure where exactly they were supposed to go or do. Bulba figured this was probably true. He had a hard time picturing Char hugging anyone, Nyx included.

It was very easily one of the best hugs Bulba had ever received.

For the briefest moment after the surprise wore off, he was almost afraid to reciprocate, as if Char would back off the moment Bulba acknowledged it as something real. It didn't last for long. Bulba wasn't going to miss this chance. He wrapped his arms back around the dragon with confidence. It was firm, but gentle, mindful of the hurt that had been inflicted on his brother just a short time ago. Bulba nestled his head against Char's shoulder for the moment (?) this would last, and everything smelled like flowers.

It was okay. He wasn't made of glass. He wouldn't break from something as wonderful as this.

Oh. A step in the right direction at last. Char still felt unbearably gross, the act of contact still sat a little unnaturally with him, and the smell of flowers, though fundamentally different from the overwelming perfume of Vinnie's earlier Overgrow, was still similar enough to make his stomach do a weird little squirm. He couldn't say with any degree of certainty just how much this would change anything, or if Bulba's smiles would still be scarce in the days ahead... but still, the fact that he'd somehow stumbled his way into offering Bulba a little comfort was enough to lift a heavy weight off his shoulders.

He... wasn't entirely sure how much was enough. Then again... that wasn't a decision for him to make, was it? So Char simply stayed put, keeping his brother in his arms until Bulba decided he'd had his fill of slighly-too-warm dragon embraces.

"God, leave it to us to take something friggin' simple and turn it all complicated, huh?" It was frustrating, just how often things seemed to never quite fall into alignment, how they just seemed to be stuck taking turns being miserable, how every faltering step forward had immediately been buried under three backward steps for four whole years. It was hard to keep swimming upstream this long; bonds like this weren't natural for a Charizard to begin with, and when his track record was so studded with failure, there was a nagging sense of futility to the whole thing.

It was so alarmingly impossible for him to even tell if what he was doing was a mistake or not. He'd never known a father, his short time with his own siblings wasn't much more than a handful of faint, scattered memories, and he tended to simply shuffle all his teammates into basic categories: Little Brother, Girlfriend, and Competition. It wasn't really a void he'd ever felt, but times like this, it came a little close -- maybe this would have been easier if he'd had someone to show him what "okay" was supposed to look like. He was ready for it, so ready -- the lying, the secrets, the clearly-drawn line in the sand keeping him safe and separate and alone had long since grown too exhausting to keep up. But the problem always seemed to be the same: intention alone was meaningless. At a loss, entirely unable to make sense of where he was going or if he was even moving at all, the old pattern of hurt just kept creeping back into everything time after time.

If it'd just been him getting stung, it wouldn't have mattered. That's what being a fire-type was about, after all: drawing on your own strength, and yours alone. If he had nobody to turn to, then that was because all the answers he needed were within him, and it was just a matter of stumbling through until he found them. When every single misstep seemed to make a once-jolly Pokemon lose a little more of his brightness, though, that was another story entirely. Another layer of complication on what was, at its core, still something remarkably simple.

Leaving it up to Bulba to decide when enough was enough was a dangerous decision to make. If he was going to really get his way, then they'd be standing there like that for the rest of the afternoon. It didn't matter how uncomfortably warm Char might have been or how much of an assault he was having on Bulba's nose. For once in his life he was getting a hug from his brother, and it wasn't until it had happened that Bulba was forced to realized just how much of a void had been sitting there, desperately waiting for something like this to come and make it full of something tangible.

Everything was suddenly that much more okay and he didn't want to let him go again.

But he would have to eventually. Char needed a rest, and it was only a matter of time before someone else came waltzing through the hall and ruined everything prematurely. It would be better if he ended it himself. First he had to chuckle a bit bitterly against Char's shoulder. Begrudgingly, he pulled himself away and gave Char a weird half-grin.

"I think that's part of our job description or something," He commented. When was the last time any of them had gone about anything the simple way? Bulba honestly couldn't recall. Things always seemed to get more complicated than they really should have been, seemingly just because it was them that they were happening to. Honestly, a new way of tackling things could definitely be in order for them, if only so they wouldn't keep dancing that horrible misery tango. The issue was figuring out what they needed to do to quit it, and Bulba didn't have a clue of where to start. Their walls might have crumbled enough for them to reach out and touch, but there was still enough there to keep the leads he was looking for out of sight.

"I dunno about you, kid, but I'm gettin' real tired." Of the three-ring drama circus that was their life, and kinda just in general. Toxic poisoning, you suck. It was taking a conscious effort to make sure his tail was high enough to keep from damaging the floors even more than he already had. Bulba had apparently met his hug quota, so back to walking toward the incredibly-uncomfortable embrace of a sinkful of water, then the much-more-comfortable embrace of a warm bed.

"I... ain't good at this. We both know it. If I hafta guess, I'm guessin' wrong more often than not." I suppose that's one thing to be grateful to Max about -- it was much easier to admit to his failures with his pride thoroughly squashed. Not easy enough that he could say that while making eye contact, of course; the floor had suddenly become utterly fascinating once more. "I'm a bit too dense to know when to quit, so I'll probably keep guessin' anyway, but... tell me when you need somethin' like that, okay? I won't bite. I'm kinda shit at bein' what you need me to be, but I'm tryin'."

Bulba nodded in quiet understanding on both accounts. He was tired of all of it too. A break from all of the stupid things that piled up would be nice. A time where they didn't have to get hung up on anything or worry or try to be anything that they weren't... gosh that would have to be a godsend or something. Bulba kept an eye on Char's poison-wracked frame, slowly shuffling back into place at Char's side as they continued down the hall once more. He definitely needed the rest that was waiting for him.

This was clearly just an afternoon of Char brand surprises. Bulba had to keep glancing at him as he spoke. There was a swell of feelings in his chest that the Ivysaur suddenly felt overwhelmed by. He felt bad that he wasn't sure how long this had been on Char's mind. "Char..." It should have been something he had noticed long before now, so that he could have said something properly about it. Then again, maybe Bulba wouldn't have felt quite as ready to say anything before now.

Tentatively, Bulba reached out to touch Char's wrist. It was a small contact of reassurance for both of them. It was crazy that this was something he'd never said before, and that it had taken this long for it to come out in the open. Bulba wasn't even sure how he was supposed to be saying it, but now seemed like the time do it.

"... The only thing I need you to be is you."

Bulba, that's terrible advice. 70% of the reason you've ever been sad has been because of Char being Char. (10% for when Green leaves and the other 20% is Vinnie. Your life is tears.)

...But it still meant a lot. Char didn't exactly need approval from the general populace, but that didn't change the fact that he got a lot of people saying that "you" was, in fact, a very wrong thing for Char to be. Professor Oak's disapproval, Vinnie's lecturing, Sasha's heated announcement that being a Charizard just meant being destructive, a heartbroken little Bulbasaur blurting that fine, all he did was pick fights anyway -- there were a lot of things behind him suggesting that being Char meant being inherently flawed. It was a belief he'd held himself ever since the daycare days, though he'd managed to narrow down his need to be good enough to just the people that mattered in the last couple years.

Bulba was one of the ones who mattered.

Still, words had never been his forte, and he didn't quite know how to convey that much. He glanced over at Bulba, only for a moment, then just as quickly looked away -- not quite the usual huffy, prickly response, but something a little more shy. Nothing was said, but he hoped it was something that could be conveyed without being said out loud: gratitute couldn't be that hard to recognize, right?

The silence lingered all through their arrival at the washrooms and Char's quick cleanup. The water left his skin flushed and itching, but it was nonetheless a relief to scrub away the layer of dried-on blood and feverish sweat, and rinse out the lingering sour taste of copper and stomach acid. From there it was a mercifully short walk back to his dorm. He paused, hand on the door, eyes sliding back over to the Ivysaur who'd stuck dutifully by him. Another situation where it was hard to put the right words together, so he just kind of... watched Bulba with a half-hopeful look that hovered between expectant and uncertain.

It was clear that the reason Bulba was able to maintain the shine of his hair and sparkles was because he bathed in his own tears.

But he had noticed that little look. It was short and fleeting but it was so entirely foreign on the Charizard that of course he had noticed it. He smiled a little, and as small as it was it was far more genuine than the one he wore a few moments ago. It was all right. This was one of the things that Bulba didn't need to hear out loud.

The look exchanged outside of Char's door was another. Bulba had been planning on just doing what he said he would and go to his room, as much as he would have liked to have hovered around Char to make sure he was definitely okay and ride on the coat tails of this most recent exchange. He paused when Char did, assuming this would be where he parted ways. When this didn't happen and Char looked at him that way instead... Bulba blinked, momentarily confused because this was like a really weird role reversal or something.

He didn't mind that. Not at all. Bulba was actually very okay with this. His expression softened and he nodded. Without saying it out loud, Bulba made a change of plans. He wasn't going to hike down the hall if he could get away with staying here. Bulba moved closer, silently giving the Charizard the answer to his unspoken question.

Oh. Good.

Char was still very bad at handling a lot of things: touching was weird and unfamiliar and there was something kind of embarrassing about someone fussing over you when you were hurt and he wasn't entirely sure he'd ever be able to express affection as easily and openly as all these pack animals around him. Even if a hug was more confusing than comforting to him, though, the simple fact that it was a step in the right direction for Bulba was enough to make it worthwhile.

With an unspoken agreement reached, Char saw no reason to drag it out; he opened the door, stepped inside, and sank gratefully onto his bed. It was a heavy, graceless arrival, tail dangling limply off the edge and wings splayed haphazardly over the covers, but elegant and noble draconic repose could save itself for an occasion where he felt much less drained and achy. The Blaze-heat had cooled, body temperature dipping lower than normal in response to the sheer fatigue he felt, and without the panicked tension of the earlier nervous attempts at being brotherly, he was thoroughly burned out. One wing managed a half-assed little lift, indication that he was ready and willing to make room for one more if that was what suited Bulba.

(Better make it quick, though. Rasputin is pretty prone to swiping that cozy under-wing real estate.)

No, no that spot was his and no giant spider was going to swipe it from him. Not this time. Bulba had worked up to that spot fair and square and he was going to take full advantage of it.

And this was exactly what he was going to do, because it suited Bulba just fine. He crawled his way onto the bed, allowing Char to make whatever adjustments he found necessary to make room for an additional body. Once that was all well and taken care of, the Ivysaur wiggled up next to him. No longer was he so very uncomfortably warm, Bulba noted. He could nearly be considered cool. Odd, that.

Even still, Bulba made a pleased little sound in his throat and nuzzled in a bit more openly than he normally would have. It seemed like the right kind of occasion for it.. Despite everything else that was coming from this whole ideal, at least Bulba would have this moment to look on with a smile.

It was probably Bulba doing most of the adjusting, honestly; now that he was finally lying down, Char wasn't gonna be doing too much squirming around. He ended up somewhere roughly between on his stomach and on his back, that wing draped over Bulba. The old shyness seemed to have crept back into his hands a little; there was only another timid barely-there bit of contact there, the back of his hand curled loosely against his brother's skin.

"Wasn't just lip service, y'know," he mumbled tiredly. The comfortable fuzziness of sleep was hovering on the horizon. His thoughts were slowing already, and this wasn't something he'd really have an easy time translating into words anyway. The longing to be trusted, despite doing everything to prove he was unworthy of trust. The quiet conflict of wanting to push all the walls away, but not quite remembering how to be vulnerable. The worry that he didn't know exactly how to navigate the walls Bulba had put up in turn. All things he knew clear as a bell in his heart, but somehow lacked the skill to just go and say it.

"If that's what takes the weight off your shoulders, then tell me about it. I'm tired of holdin' back all the time, so... don't hold back with me either, okay?"

Bulba gave a little nod, comfortable in in this not-quite-embrace. There was just the slightest bit of hesitancy on Bulba's part. He wanted to be open with him. He really, truly did. If all of the nonsense in his life could just stop then that would be absolutely wonderful. If it could be just as easy as speaking his feelings...

"I'll try not to," he said quietly. It was suddenly his turn to look a little shy. "I just need some practice... ok?"

Because every time Bulba did try to breach the boundaries, it always ended horribly. And he had a feeling that if he brought up the things that were threatening to trouble his heart now, they'd end up just the same. As much as Bulba wanted to tell his brother everything, all the things he had to tell him were all the things that Char never wanted to hear.

It... stung a little, to reach out and ask for trust, and to realize that it wasn't ready to be given. A part of him wanted to ask why. He really hadn't made any progress since Bulba admitted just how long he'd hid his sexuality out of fear, had he? This was still the exact same motive, wasn't it? Bulba still believed that Char's love for his brother was weaker than his grudges.

Not exactly an unreasonable thing to believe, was it? Char already suspected that Bulba had taken being an innocent casualty of Char's trainer-attachment issues as a personal rejection, and he certainly hadn't forgotten just how selfishly he'd handled that whole coming-out situation. He'd gotten a little too comfortable with the small victory that hug had brought him; being reminded once again how little his ineffectual efforts had meant quickly put him back into his place. His crimes weren't going to be forgiven on the merits of a few futile little struggles.

That's just the way things are. He wasn't going to let the knowledge show, wasn't gonna get all melodramatic-poor-me-Charmeleon over it. His actions had consequences, and he deserved to bear them. This, like all things, was about Bulba, not Char's stupid little internal issues.

"...That's fine, kid." That's all there was to say, really. "Listen, I don't think I can keep myself awake much longer. If y'got something else you'd rather be doin'--" Bulba, after all, was probably still worried about Vinnie. Maybe Marie too, but that was up for debate. "--then I won't care."

Char's neutral response made it that much easier for Bulba not to fully realize that his answer had once again not been the answer either of them needed. Bulba had slowly been coming to terms with the knowledge that the way he did things didn't actually do a whole lot of good in the end. Had he known just what the extent of the damage his own hang ups were causing, his resolve to knock it off would have been that much quicker.

He knew better now that even if things blew up a little, that didn't mean Char would be through with him. It was just a matter of taking that first step. He was teetering on the edge, he just had to do it. And he would. He was going to do it. Just... not when Char was about to fall asleep.

And so Bulba, unaware of any ill ease he had just unintentionally stirred, gave Char a small smile. "It's fine... Is it okay if I stay a little longer?" He was worried, but as long as Char was still some degree of being awake, he wanted to spend just a little more time with him. He didn't think he was ready to hear about the rest of what happened yet. "You won't have to worry about me. Go ahead and get some sleep."

A little twitch of the shoulder -- the best shrug he could offer up while lying down. "If that's what you want, then knock yourself out."

It felt like there should have been something more to be said. Something to bring back the tentative security of just a few short minutes ago. Maybe he'd been reading too much into it, but false hope was a lot more comfortable than this weird, suspended sort of feeling. It was a feeling that'd been looming over his shoulder far too often lately.

...He didn't want to think about it. These not-a-disaster-but-not-really-a-win outcomes were confusing enough to figure out with a clear head, let alone now. Hell, brotherhood in general was just one big minefield; trying to navigate it while this burned out would just... not go well. So, fuck it. He gave Bulba one last look, not entirely certain what it was he was even trying to see, then let his eyes drift shut.

Bulba stayed quiet and still at his brother's side. He watched his face for a short while, trying to take in all the little things that he normally didn't have the chance to do. The times they had spent like this before, Bulba was normally trying to forget everything in another selfish attempt at seeking some sort of warmth. Now he paid attention while he could, taking note of how tired he seemed. How much of that was from the fight and how much of that was from everything else, Bulba wasn't sure. His eyes trailed to Char's shoulder, and Bulba chewed the inside of his lip. To say that he was worried about the ink was a bit of an understatement. This was not a Char that Bulba was used to seeing.

The difference in his face between a Char that was simply at rest and one that had actually let go of his thoughts to go to sleep, while not incredibly pronounced, was still astounding to the Ivysaur. He didn't know how he felt about that. Actually, he didn't know how he felt about a lot of things. Under the shield of his brother's wing with only the sound of his sleepy breathing to distract him, it seemed like a perfect time to think about them.

He didn't know what to do to make things easier for Char. Talk to him, probably. About not having to worry about him, about what was going on with the dragon, the issues of rivalry... which just turned Bulba's thoughts to the fight. Now that he was content that Char was more or less all right and resting, he could let the other concerns that had been nibbling at his gut to come to the surface. He didn't know what to do about that whole thing either. Of course, maybe it would help if he had a better idea of what had happened.

When he was quite sure that movement wouldn't rouse Char from his rest, Bulba carefully slid off the bed and crept out of the room. Slipping down the hall, Bulba made a phone call. It was short, and it was hushed, and Bulba returned to Char's room with a nauseous stomach and a significantly heavier heart.

Crawling back on to the bed as carefully as he had left it was a bit of a challenge, but with a lot of patience he was able to manage. He curled up a little, not saying anything or doing anything else. There were a lot of things to be felt, but right now he just felt numb. Losing a friend he wasn't even supposed to have shouldn't have felt like this. It felt like he had unwittingly destroyed a small part of himself that he hadn't realized was important. What a horrible, hollow feeling. The only thing that came to fill the void was the weight of a guilty conscious that was, for once, rightly placed.

Bulba stretched back out. Very slowly, he moved a bit closer to Char and carefully hugged his sleeping form. He just needed to hold on to the only good thing that could have come from any of this while he could. He didn't want to admit how afraid he was that this would just be one more thing that he would mess up.

Bulba was, for the record, very careful with his departure and return. That being said, Char's wild years had left a mark; when you happened to be all alone and on fire, you were kind of an easy target for nocturnal predators. Being a light sleeper was a bit of a necessity in that regard. Char might not exactly have needed to worry about being devoured in his sleep nowadays, but force of habit's a stubborn thing. Light as it was, the sensation of contact was enough to nudge Char back into consciousness. Or a very fuzzy, blearly semblance of it, anyway.

The proximity was a bit of a boon to Bulba; with his face out of sight, Char couldn't immediately pick up that something had gone wrong. With no idea how long he'd been out or if Bulba had even moved from his side or not, he kind of just went to the assumption that Bulba was cuddling for cuddling's sake. Everything still okay? Yes, probably. His wing lifted away; he flared them both out in a long, slow stretch. Again, the feeling that he should probably be doing something affectionate -- for lack of a better idea, he let his hand rest on Bulba's hair. Avoiding the ears, of course; they were similar enough to horns that instinct suggested he'd best keep away from them.

That was normally a very excellent idea. Head pats and the like had always been very appreciated forms of contact. They had sort of come to be like quasi-hugs for him. The feeling of fingers in his hair was a very comforting experience. This was generally a good thing. Generally. Most of the time.

A time that might not have been right now. The touch made him stiffen for a moment, surprised. He'd been so caught up in thinking about things that he had only been partially aware that Char had woken up. The hug was somewhat shakily tightened, and Bulba's ears flicked down and back. Well, that was definitely an encouraging indication of things. (Except no. No it wasn't.)

"... Does your talking offer include things you won't like?"

Oh. What? Had he done something wrong? This... usually went over a lot better, didn't it? Yeah, he'd probably done something wrong. Something he'd said? Should he have stayed up, paid a little better attention? Bulba had been more or less content when Char had drifted off, hadn't he? Or had that just been him putting on a brave face? Oh god he didn't know anything anymore. Char quickly retracted his hand, expression quickly shifting somewhere between anxiety and complete and utter bewilderment.

"It'd be a pretty shitty offer if it didn't." Okay. He coud salvage this. This could still work out okay. Just... keep cool and try not to say anything stupid. ...Good god, he was tired.

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no how could I resist this bedtime present

dangit bret quit stayin' up

NEVER

i punch u

n o

>:c

u_u

;:T

BD

8'|