As a rule, K doesn't show much emotion in his expression, ever; but for just a moment when Jesus stops them here, when he takes the time to look directly at him - furthermore when he looks at him like that, there's a moment when the look in K's eyes fractures open just enough. He has absolutely no idea what to do with that offer now if he ever did, no idea if it would be better - for both of them, for Jesus - to ask him to stay, to ask him to go, to leave the choice in his hands. No hope in this moment of ever knowing, because they don't have a say in it, and he's certain that if they did have a say this wouldn't be an issue. Replicants don't have a place with humans. Not as equals.
But that's not true either and he knows that every bit as confidently as he does the other; for the first time since Joshi told him to erase all evidence of a miracle he wishes desperately that someone would just tell him what to do, and it shows in the way he looks back at Jesus before he shuts it down and pushes it all away.
Dreadfully distinct. "Okay," is what he says even though it doesn't mean anything, even though it's just a noise his mouth makes while he draws himself up straight again.
"You don't have to decide what you want right now." The tiniest smile. He holds up his device. "I have a phone. I'm a light sleeper. You can call me whenever you want. Even if it's just to listen to Elvis."
The light changes and they have to go, but not before he murmurs, "I'm sorry this is happening."
It's not Jesus's fault. It's not even really K's fault. He thinks about that while they cross the street, as they take a turn away from the few other people on the street and the way they're going.
This is how long it takes him to make any kind of decision, even though it's not a very good one as far as decisions go. Not very decisive. All the same he reaches out to touch Jesus's wrist, and comes to a stop.
"Yeah," he says, and doesn't say Anything you want, because he's not that naive. But there's not much he'd say 'no' to with K's expression still fresh in his mind.
He's not looking for the limits of what Jesus will allow him to do anyway, but very earnestly asking permission. It's a little unfair, he thinks, but replicants aren't the only ones that use visual cues. Humans do it too, so it's not so dishonest after all.
He studies Jesus a moment, memorizing all the little tells at the corners of his eyes and mouth, the set of his jaw and the crease of his brow. Then, his touch is light as it had been on his wrist, he reaches up to the corner of Jesus's jaw until his face just enough to kiss him.
It's not a deep kiss, but it's not light either, and he doesn't rush. He needs a good solid few moments to feel whatever he's going to feel, to feel the way Jesus reacts to him.
And when he steps back, he studies Jesus's face again, long and steady and deep, looking for anything that's changed. Looking for anything that tells him that Jesus would rather he goes, or ask to be left alone.
He returns the kiss, taking his time with it, enjoying it despite not knowing what K is looking for in it. His smile is a little quizzical when K looks at him, but there's pleasure in it, too. Even a little relief.
"Was that all you wanted to try?" A little mischief in his smile now. "Or do you need to try it again?"
K doesn't smile back but, bit by bit, his eyes soften to something very similar. Both hands are at his side again and he considers reaching for Jesus's hand again but doesn't, not quite yet.
Jesus is teasing but K owes him an explanation so what he says is, "You went through something difficult. So did I. We face more difficult things, and there's a lot I don't know how to talk about. I just... Needed to check in."
This is as far as he's willing to go, physically. He took a hard hit to his left kidney and if the entire experience at the Zoo hadn't killed his libido for a while, that one vicious punch has done the trick until he's healed. But that's the nice thing about K: he actually seems to enjoy this part on its own. He suspects he could kiss K for an hour and he'd still enjoy it.
He doesn't take an hour, of course. But he doesn't rush. He only breaks it when a car honks at some other reckless pedestrian and he jerks, reaching for a knife, sees there's no danger, and rallies by looking up at K like it hadn't happened.
K doesn't pull back until Jesus does, and he's right: he could be content with this. He could walk away with only this and be happy.
He glances over because Jesus does, but then back at him, watchful but calm now. A faint line appears between his eyebrows at the question, thinking.
"It just said to report to the center. No time limit, but I doubt they'll wait longer than a day or two." That's another reason K wanted to warn Jesus: "I don't want you to get into trouble with the SIN guards again so soon."
"If I thought it would do any good I'd do it anyway." Fight them off, break more arms. There's not even a question that he'd do it again if it would keep K from being forced.
"Do you want me there? Or do you want to come find me after it wears off?" There isn't room for K to just not see Jesus again, sooner rather than later. But it has to be up to K what the context is.
He's said this before but he'll say it over and over and over again because in a life suddenly unanchored, this much is still true: "I don't want to hurt you. Hurt anyone." And as long as he's in control of himself he knows he won't.
But there are stories about the injections. He is, he must admit, something like scared - but it doesn't matter. "Best if I'm alone until after, probably."
"I trust you, K." And yes, first that means that he trusts that K wouldn't hurt him. Not willingly. But it also means, "If you think it's better for you to do this alone, then I'll leave you alone until you're ready to see me again."
It's a peculiar way to phrase it, for K; he's never had another option than to do something alone, and all of his thoughts about Jesus being around have just been about him spending time there not necessarily helping him do anything about it.
His fingers twitch and this time he gives in, this time he lifts his hand to brush Jesus's arm and he nods.
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But that's not true either and he knows that every bit as confidently as he does the other; for the first time since Joshi told him to erase all evidence of a miracle he wishes desperately that someone would just tell him what to do, and it shows in the way he looks back at Jesus before he shuts it down and pushes it all away.
Dreadfully distinct. "Okay," is what he says even though it doesn't mean anything, even though it's just a noise his mouth makes while he draws himself up straight again.
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The light changes and they have to go, but not before he murmurs, "I'm sorry this is happening."
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This is how long it takes him to make any kind of decision, even though it's not a very good one as far as decisions go. Not very decisive. All the same he reaches out to touch Jesus's wrist, and comes to a stop.
"May I try something?" he asks, low.
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He studies Jesus a moment, memorizing all the little tells at the corners of his eyes and mouth, the set of his jaw and the crease of his brow. Then, his touch is light as it had been on his wrist, he reaches up to the corner of Jesus's jaw until his face just enough to kiss him.
It's not a deep kiss, but it's not light either, and he doesn't rush. He needs a good solid few moments to feel whatever he's going to feel, to feel the way Jesus reacts to him.
And when he steps back, he studies Jesus's face again, long and steady and deep, looking for anything that's changed. Looking for anything that tells him that Jesus would rather he goes, or ask to be left alone.
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"Was that all you wanted to try?" A little mischief in his smile now. "Or do you need to try it again?"
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Jesus is teasing but K owes him an explanation so what he says is, "You went through something difficult. So did I. We face more difficult things, and there's a lot I don't know how to talk about. I just... Needed to check in."
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"Yes," he says, and lets Jesus close the difference still but once he does K relaxes into it, too.
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He doesn't take an hour, of course. But he doesn't rush. He only breaks it when a car honks at some other reckless pedestrian and he jerks, reaching for a knife, sees there's no danger, and rallies by looking up at K like it hadn't happened.
"When do you have to go in?"
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He glances over because Jesus does, but then back at him, watchful but calm now. A faint line appears between his eyebrows at the question, thinking.
"It just said to report to the center. No time limit, but I doubt they'll wait longer than a day or two." That's another reason K wanted to warn Jesus: "I don't want you to get into trouble with the SIN guards again so soon."
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"Do you want me there? Or do you want to come find me after it wears off?" There isn't room for K to just not see Jesus again, sooner rather than later. But it has to be up to K what the context is.
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But there are stories about the injections. He is, he must admit, something like scared - but it doesn't matter. "Best if I'm alone until after, probably."
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His fingers twitch and this time he gives in, this time he lifts his hand to brush Jesus's arm and he nods.
"I'll let you know when I'm safe again."
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And if he doesn't hear from K then, he'll break in again.
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Not that he had just chosen not to answer before but still he makes the promise.
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