...Or, The Courting of Jamie McCrimmon, In as Many Parts as Necessary
______

He wakes up slowly. The first thing he notices is that his pillow is quite warm, a bit firmer than he's used to, and has a heartbeat. The second thing he notices is that it's not a pillow at all, but one Jamie McCrimmon.

The third thing he notices, and the thing that makes him bolt upright, wide awake, is the fact that he's thirty-six once more. Actually, until he looks in a mirror, he can't be certain of that. All he knows is he's no longer seven, which makes being curled up like that a bit inappropriate.

A glance over at Jamie. Fast asleep on his back, hands behind his head, looking for all the world like he fell asleep in some sunlit meadow. He thinks he'd like to see that, one day. Maybe for a date (if they get to dating and not just the odd little friendly, flirting, dancing around the odd attraction they'd had on the beach thing they're doing now) he'll take Jamie on a picnic. Of course, that necessitates exploring to find an appropriate sunlit meadow, with the possibility of hillsides?

He wonders just what the Nexus is doing. First it makes him a child right after he sees Jamie here in Rhy'din for the first time, then turns him back to normal while he's asleep in the same bed as the lad. Which is just? If it's trying to get them together, it's going about things all wrong, he thinks. Except he really doubts that, because if it were trying to do that, it would have likely left that odd attraction in place when it brought them here. (Although, truth be told, he's glad that's something that got left on the beach.) So it's probably just messing with his head. It seems to be a part of the universe, and he finds it patently obvious that the universe has a serious case of insecurity, thus he deduces that the Nexus is also insecure.

The odd, momentary flicker of being seven for a brief second only serves to confirm that theory. Right. He'll shut up about it then, since he kind of likes not being a child.

He gets up, marvelling at how Jamie sleeps still. Truth be told, he's glad for it. While he has no qualms about sleeping next to the lad while he's a wee child, and no questions as to why Jamie would let him share a bed for a nap under those circumstances? It just seems very odd and inappropriate to him now, given that he's trying to figure out how to court the lad.

To the bathroom he heads. And curses soundly under his breath when he looks in the mirror. An adult once more, aye, but barely that. If he's even a day older than the cadet that's running about. Still no scar on his face, which leads him to believe that somehow, the Nexus knows exactly what he looked like at each age and isn't just scaling his appearance up or down? which disturbs him a little. Stupid insec- Right, that flicker of de-aging in the mirror? Not something he'd like to see again. So shutting up that train of thought once more.

A soft sigh as he splashes water over his face. Well, he supposes this age isn't so bad. It's closer to Jamie's, at any rate, which might help. Might not, also, but he's going to go for optimism here.

Besides, he'd be bloody daft to complain about the lack of wrinkles.

Beautiful

((OOC: Written up from an IM RP with Jamie's mun and posted with permission. Actually takes place on Christmas, but, as you can see by the fact that we were attempting a world record for the longest RPed kiss, took a while to type up.))
_______

"Je suis belle, ? mortels! comme un r?ve de pierre,
Et mon sein, o? chacun s'est meurtri tour ? tour,
Est fait pour inspirer au po?te un amour
Eternel et muet ainsi que la mati?re.

Car j'ai, pour fasciner ces dociles amants,
De purs miroirs qui font toutes choses plus belles:
Mes yeux, mes larges yeux aux clart?s ?ternelles!"
~Charles Baudelaire; La Beaut?

"I am beauty, o mortals! like a dream carved in stone,
And my breast, where you break, each in your turn
Is made to inspire in the poet a love
Eternal and silent, everlasting as matter

For I have, to fascinate those submissive lovers,
Pure mirrors to reflect all more beautifully:
My eyes, my wide eyes, brilliant eternally!"
~Translation by the mun

He couldn't quite explain how he knew the younger man in front of him, or why all his time with Jon felt absolutely irrelevant in this person's presence, but he was fairly certain that he imagined neither knowledge nor feelings. Especially when the other man actually responded to his hesitant "?Jamie?".

With a bit of concentration, and a tolerance for the mild headache that it brought up, he could actually remember Jamie, even though none of the memories happened after he woke up here a few weeks ago. It was strange, but thrilling in it's own way. At least he remembered something, someone. The odd little gift he'd had made was apparently for the young man, and it had gone over quite well, something that filled him with no small amount of joy.

There was a slight painful undercurrent to his happiness, as a few more memories came back to him. Such as the fact that apparently he and Jonathan had broken up. Except, for whatever reason, he remembered that as happening a long time ago. He didn't dwell on the strange feelings, oddness to his memories, any of that. Too busy appreciating the person in front of him, how conversation was easy and in some ways shy and awkward all at once. So much better than trying to talk to anyone here who remembered him that he did not remember, and always easier than talking to a complete stranger.

Then all thoughts beyond being good and slow and loving were pretty much banished with the first brush of Jamie's lips against his own. He vaguely recalls that Jamie was concerned it would be wrong somehow, and he does understand why the man might've felt that way, but he honestly can't come up with any universe where, under their current circumstances, this could ever be wrong.

He vaguely wishes he were privy to Jamie's thoughts on the matter. Yet, they're still kissing, so the other man is likely enjoying this on some level. His hand finds it's way to Jamie's waist at about the same time those slightly clumsy motions lead to a tiny flick of a tongue on his lips. Instinct born from years of experience lead him to part his lips, whimpering quietly with pleasure. It's absolutely endearing, the mixture of hesitance and inexperience and curiousity. A slight shift in his position, and he nudges the man a bit closer. Deep down, he's aware that at one point there had been some rather overwhelming urges behind this, but they're gone and he cannot really say he misses them.

A surprised gasp, from the press of a warm body against his own and the hand on the back of his neck. He swears he's burning up, can't understand just why this particular kiss is all but setting him on fire but loving that it is. Another brush of tongue, this time venturing into his mouth, and he lets out an eager sort of moan, his free hand sliding around to Jamie's back, holding him there lightly.

If he were a bit more capable of coherent thought, he might find this kiss to be at least a wee bit cruel. It's still so uncertain if they could ever really be together; yet another thing he knows without knowing how he knows it. Except, even so, he can forgive the minor cruelty. He settles comfortably against Jamie, all but sighing at the arm draped over him. Then there's a third brush of tongue, this time against his own, and despite all his intentions of letting Jamie lead the way in all this, he can't help but dart his own tongue out in reply. Sharp little exhale. Oh, this is doing things to him.

The further tentative teasing just leds to quiet whimpers, soft little noises of pleasure, and he figures it's probably a good thing that he's always been very vocal about his pleasure, because it has to be a reassurance to Jamie that he's doing things right. Very right. A tremble runs through him, and deep down he thinks that perhaps he should back up a little to breathe, but he's not particularly inclined to do anything remotely resembling breaking this kiss. Oxygen is bad for you anyways.

A little thrill rushes through him at the touch of a hand on his face, the brush of a thumb on his temple. It's exquisite, really, although his mind isn't processing much beyond the contact from Jamie's hand and the almost shy explorations of the other man's tongue. A bit more awareness beyond this kiss, and he'd swear up and down that Jamie is mapping him, gauging where he gets the best noises from for future reference. At least, he'd hope that was the case, instead of the deepening being something Jamie feels obligated to do.

His instincts make him take the bolder path, acting instead of just passively receiving the kiss. Perhaps it's Jamie's own actions that make him confident enough that he won't spook the lad by taking charge a bit. Besides, he thinks it's a good reward for his patience on the matter to give in to the urge to discover just what Jamie tastes like. Scott holds tighter, half afraid that he's dreaming and if he lets go, Jamie will fade away and he'll wake up; because he cannot quite fathom that he's actually getting to do this and that Jamie is responding the way he is. That little hitched sort of noise just does things to him. Same with that slow retreat, although he'd consider it more along the lines of advancing in a different direction. Somehow it's more invitation for him to explore than Jamie being uncomfortable with his response and he finds it absolutely beautiful.

He accepts that invitation eagerly, although he certainly doesn't rush the matter any. The exploration is careful, slow, thorough, and utterly respectful. Upsetting the man, crossing any sort of boundaries about what he'd consider appropriate, is the furthest intention from his mind. A slight separation, just long enough for a gasp of air. As inconsequential as he consciously thinks breathing is at this moment, his body disagrees. Which is a shame. He could share this kiss with Jamie until the world ended and he'd ask the world to slow down with the ending because he hadn't quite kissed this wonderful young man just long enough.

Then he's holding Jamie up, supporting him imperceptibly to any sense beyond the little part of the mind that just knows things, and it seems a bit odd to him, to be the one dominating a kiss. A bit thrilling as well, with those encouraging little flicks of tongue against his own. Different, but a sort of different he thinks he could get very used to for this one. Certainly plenty of incentive to; those flitting touches setting him on fire from the inside out. His hand rubs tiny circles on Jamie's back, encouraging, half mapping and half just feeling him, warm and solid against him. A gentle squeeze for a very encouraging whimper, and then he finally, somewhat mournfully, pulls back.

He's gasping for breath, a bit bemused for, despite having quite a bit of experience, he forgot how to breathe a few times there. Forehead is rested against Jamie's, eyes closed, and he takes the time to just breathe. An apology for ending the kiss is on the tip of his tongue, but his lungs are still a bit starved for air. Words are, however, unnecessary to convey his happiness, for he is positively radiant from it.

When he's finally caught his breath and opens his eyes, he thinks that Jamie may have stolen it away again. Any words he might have had die on his tongue at the joy incarnate in front of him, in his arms, and doubt dies with those words. Instead of speaking, he brushes a chaste little kiss to his lips and resumes his relaxed position, holding and being held. Wonderful.

"Good? No-?" The words, said through a beaming grin and perhaps a bit breathless to his ear, barely register in his mind.

His grin goes from ear to ear, threatening to split his face in two. "Beautiful." Aye, he is a bit of a sap. Especially for that blush, that shy downward glance, the little nuzzle he gets along with a quiet "aye". He could stay like this forever, he thinks.

Their time together ends far too soon for his liking, but he still goes to bed thinking that today was as close to perfect as he has ever had.