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"I liked it anyway. I still wasn't used to people actually talking to me, then." He still isn't, really, but it's no longer the surprise that it was at first.
"I don't remember much of the games. They took most of my clothing and had me lift a woman I didn't know, then a second one and I think.... they thought it was too hard for me, because I didn't really know what they wanted from me and it hurt. They disqualified me after the second." Jesus knows, now, firsthand how ridiculous the thought is of it being too hard for K to lift a single human.
"I don't remember much of the games. They took most of my clothing and had me lift a woman I didn't know, then a second one and I think.... they thought it was too hard for me, because I didn't really know what they wanted from me and it hurt. They disqualified me after the second." Jesus knows, now, firsthand how ridiculous the thought is of it being too hard for K to lift a single human.
"I liked it, too. If we had slept together then I think it would have taken me longer to trust you." He would have relegated K to 'fuck buddy' in his head, and kept his distance.
"No," he shakes his head with a rueful smile. "Because I was trying to keep my friends and my sexual partners separate then. That didn't take, thanks mostly to you."
"No," he says, fast, almost startling himself with his vehemence.
"I like this. What we've got. I know I screwed it up but- I want it. Like we were before. Maybe even better than we were."
"I like this. What we've got. I know I screwed it up but- I want it. Like we were before. Maybe even better than we were."
K is quiet then, trying to sift through that reaction, those words. He wants to insist Jesus didn't screw anything up - there's still no blame in him for Jesus needing to get out of a corner - but not only does he know that's how Jesus himself sees it, something has definitely changed and it wasn't K. They both have acknowledged it as a mistake, but they're still working back towards each other again.
It makes him cautious, and would even if Jesus weren't still recovering from the last several days. If they all weren't. So his question, when he asks it, is both careful and earnest: if Jesus says no, he'll willingly respect that.
"Can I ask you more about... How you view what we've got?"
It makes him cautious, and would even if Jesus weren't still recovering from the last several days. If they all weren't. So his question, when he asks it, is both careful and earnest: if Jesus says no, he'll willingly respect that.
"Can I ask you more about... How you view what we've got?"
He swallows and nods. In a way he's hoped for this conversation. "Some of it is hard to put into words but I'll try. Ask anything."
Trying is all K can ask of him, but even getting permission, even seeing that Jesus isn't entirely reluctant doesn't make him willing to simply plunge ahead into this.
"How - you were using a lot of words before to explain. I don't know how much of that was fear, and how much you still believe." He can read the emotions Jesus is having real time, but the labels seem to be the problem this time, so he doesn't know how to get around that, or how to ask about that.
"How - you were using a lot of words before to explain. I don't know how much of that was fear, and how much you still believe." He can read the emotions Jesus is having real time, but the labels seem to be the problem this time, so he doesn't know how to get around that, or how to ask about that.
"I meant it all. Fear maybe made me more wordy than I normally would have been but I don't regret anything I said." He looks up at K as they trail out into the woods.
"I want to be together with you. I just don't know... What to call us. If you even want to go that way."
"I want to be together with you. I just don't know... What to call us. If you even want to go that way."
"I do. But you name something and it changes that thing. It's like quantum physics," he's about to start babbling like he had before and he bites his tongue. Stop. Breathe.
"I meant it when I said I love you. I wouldn't mind a word that means that."
"I meant it when I said I love you. I wouldn't mind a word that means that."
He meant it when he said love, and isn't that something.
K tables the word conversation for the moment, just absorbing that. It's not that he hasn't seen how Jesus looks at him, it's not that he doesn't know he cares about him - deeply even.
But aloud is different, and they both know it. So he walks with that, and when he does finally say something it's, "Joi's the only one that's ever said that to me. She was gone a moment later."
He looks over at Jesus, hoping - hoping - it's not too soon to say in return, "I love you, too, you know."
Those words hang in Jesus's chest, not heavy but very prominent, and he just breathes through them for a moment. K loves him.
They've said it. It feels good. He hadn't expected it to feel good.
He's smiling as they walk. The ground is uneven now, so he'll have to let go sooner than he wants, but for now he takes K's hand.
"I'm lucky."
They've said it. It feels good. He hadn't expected it to feel good.
He's smiling as they walk. The ground is uneven now, so he'll have to let go sooner than he wants, but for now he takes K's hand.
"I'm lucky."
What's it like to hold the hand of someone you love?
K slides their fingers together - finger to finger, he doesn't say but he thinks it anyway - and they won't be able to keep this up long but he lifts their hands so he can kiss Jesus's middle knuckle. He's careful of the healing split there, but unhesitating for all of that.
"Interlinked," he murmurs softly, with more warmth than he ever answered the script.
K slides their fingers together - finger to finger, he doesn't say but he thinks it anyway - and they won't be able to keep this up long but he lifts their hands so he can kiss Jesus's middle knuckle. He's careful of the healing split there, but unhesitating for all of that.
"Interlinked," he murmurs softly, with more warmth than he ever answered the script.
"Will you tell me the Baseline script someday? All of it?" Because the few things he's heard are intriguing, because it's important to K, and also because there are pieces of it he wants to answer for K. Like how it feels to touch finger to finger. Like what it feels like to be loved.
"It's important to you. Almost a part of you, in a way." The way K uses it to steady himself, to assess himself. "Is that okay? You don't have to if you don't want to."
"I don't... know," he admits, but in the way that he would have answered if he'd been asked what a banana tastes like before coming here. Not hesitant, necessarily, just completely without the information.
"I've never tried to explain it to anyone before. Or share it."
He can understand that. "What does it mean to you now that you don't have to repeat it to anyone?"
He has to think about it, has to try and frame it in a way that isn't tied strictly to a small white room with a camera and a mechanical voice coming out of the wall. During this time they have to climb up a hill and K gives Jesus his hand back for balance, but he stays close.
"It feels closer to... a prayer, sometimes. Or a set of rules you set for yourself."
"It feels closer to... a prayer, sometimes. Or a set of rules you set for yourself."
"Like a mantra," Jesus says thoughtfully. "Or a koan almost. I like that."
He may not like that it was once the line between K being retired or being sent back out to risk his life, but he likes what it means to K now.
He may not like that it was once the line between K being retired or being sent back out to risk his life, but he likes what it means to K now.
"Maybe for the better." They don't know. They can't know unless they do something about it.
When he has his hand back he pickpockets K's phone, though, and changes his screenname as they walk, well aware K will see him doing it. Names change things and he noticed they both changed theirs back to default.
When he has his hand back he pickpockets K's phone, though, and changes his screenname as they walk, well aware K will see him doing it. Names change things and he noticed they both changed theirs back to default.
K watches, but makes no move to stop him or take it back. Just peers curiously at the screen, waiting patiently to be handed it back.
"If you told anyone in Los Angeles that you loved a replicant - if you meant it - you'd be charged with a misdemeanor. If you tried to do anything about it, it could be a felony." Just so Jesus knows why it's so strange for K to hear, to know.
"What are we, to you?"
"If you told anyone in Los Angeles that you loved a replicant - if you meant it - you'd be charged with a misdemeanor. If you tried to do anything about it, it could be a felony." Just so Jesus knows why it's so strange for K to hear, to know.
"What are we, to you?"
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