"I'm mad at me," he murmurs eventually, voice still perfectly calm and gentle, hand still stroking steadily through Eiffel's hair. "But it's not on you to reassure me about hurting your brother."
Because whatever else he is or isn't, he's certainly hurt.
"And it's fine if he is, you know. I mean, not great, because that's awkward for you, and it's a damn shame because he's pretty amazing when he's not-"
There's just a moment when aggravation creeps into his voice, and Jedao's voice stops dead, like a switch flicked off. A beat later -
"He's passionate and deeply principled and instinctively kind and - deliberately, in defiance of instinct, brave. I wish I knew how to be kind to him in a way that's good for him, but. It does seem like I can't, and every time I try I've made it worse. And I want to stop."
His voice wobbles, just the once, with deep quiet pain, with old inescapable shame. I want to stop making it worse. He doesn't like hurting people. He can tolerate it when he's decided he needs to hurt someone to protect someone else. He really doesn't like hurting people because he's simply failed to do right by them.
He takes a slow breath.
"So - I'm backing off, that's all. I've been hated by people I admired before, you know? I can live with him thinking I'm an asshole and a coward. You don't need to...speak for him, or smooth things over. You can just love some people that don't get along. That's fine."
Well, at least he could say he knew Jedao's opinion on Neal, now. No more letting Neal get away with spiralling about that.
But- still, right now it's about Jedao. So he picks himself up a little so he can roll onto his back, and rest his head properly in Jedao's lap - but also so he can lift his hand and brush his hand against Jedao's cheek, feeling the light stubble and sharp cheekbone with the backs of his fingers.
"I'm fine with that, you know? That's most of how us worked on the Hephaestus." Sometimes people don't get along, but it's a small space and you have to work with them regardless, and sometimes you just have to pretend that those emotions don't exist if you wanna work together. "But I'm still gonna be here. I'm not gonna let anyone make me pick a side for who I'm friends with. Or-" he gives a slight smile, staining his cheeks pink. "You know, whatever this is."
Jedao closes his eyes rather than meet Eiffel's gaze, but he leans into his hand.
"I know," Jedao promises. And he does know. He has absolute faith in Eiffel's unflinching, unstinting, unscrimping affection. He just doesn't want Eiffel to get hurt trying to run between them, or try to speak on Neal's behalf and drag Jedao into doing more damage, all well-meaning.
"You could still be a little mad," he mumbles, voice thick with emotion but huffing with a half-laugh at the same time, helplessly amused by his own absurdities. "I'm just - I'm so sorry."
And apologizing to Neal has consistently gone over about as well as a war crime, so it would be nice to get to apologize to someone about it.
And Eiffel shifts again, so he can more or less sit in Jedao's lap, bringing both hands up to brace around Jedao's neck, thumbs stroking along the side of his neck and under his jaw.
The problem with Eiffel is that he has a very difficult time being mad at anyone in distress.
"I forgive you, y'know," he says, quietly, and he barely has to lean up to plant a kiss on Jedao's forehead.
Jedao chokes a little, the sound of a good long cry being smothered in its crib. He shudders under Eiffel's touch and leans in, his arms going around Eiffel's waist, eventually tucking his face in against Eiffel's neck as he hugs him tight.
And Eiffel's arms come up to wrap around Jedao's shoulders, holding him in a tight bearhug, one hand eventually finding its way to the back of Jedao's head when he nestles in and trailing his fingers through his clipped hair.
"It's all good, Jitterbug," he mumbles, soft and fond, and he gives Jedao another big squeeze. And when that relaxes, he doesn't pull away; not until Jedao makes any indication that he wants the metaphorical breathing space.
Jedao's mouth tightens for a moment. Neal has many admirable qualities, but it's also extremely annoying that he keeps doing project proposals while being allergic to details, and now Eiffel's worried and it's still Jedao's fault, forgiven or no.
It is, of course, much worse for Neal. Jedao breathes through the aggravation, down to what matters.
"He's taking it that badly?" Jedao asks, a sincere question with sincere empathy, even though he still isn't totally sure which part of what he said it was.
"Ehh. It's not just you," he grimaces, running his own hand through his hair briefly, and then leaning back a little to pull his hair tie loose. "Every time he does one of these he gets in a funk afterwards. He wants to help people, sure, but those essays just... aren't working the way he wants 'em to." He combs his hair as he talks, gathering it to tie back up.
"Yeah, they're Chinese on our world. The kind where the more you yank like a jumping jackrabbit the tighter it gets, you have to go slow and steady to get it off." There's the quiet smack of his hairtie as he lowers his hands. "That the kind you're talking about?"
Eiffel isn't the most socially perceptive - when his instincts are good, they're amazing, but he's more often coasting on sheer earnest good will than understanding the nuances.
He just sighs, resting his arms on Jedao's shoulders again, leaning into it a little as he sags. "Yeah, I copy."
And immediately goes to drag a hand through his neatly tied hair, fizzing it almost immediately. "I dunno, he just... he cares so goddamn hard. I don't know if he knows how many people don't do that. Even the nice ones. And- not everyone's gonna agree with him!" He rears a little with the sentiment, spurred by the need to gesticulate. "I worked with four people and the amount of times I got everyone on board with one idea? I can't even count on one hand! What's he gonna do with fifty?!"
"No, Eiffel. His problem isn't that he doesn't know enough about how people don't care. His problem is that he is dead fucking sure that anyone who doesn't care the same way as him or where he can see it doesn't care at all. And anyone who objects to his - distorted view is just more proof of it. So he gets angrier and feels more isolated and gets worse at talking about it."
Scritch scritch scritch, goes the finger trap. Jedao takes another slow breath and lets his aggravation run out of him.
"And it's not his fault that he's hurting and scared and probably never had a reason to trust people before if they were't proving themselves very credibly trustworthy. But it is not a useful mindset for team-building. And anyone who points out that he's constantly re-traumatizing himself and needs a damn vacation before he can have this conversation in a productive way - in the way he wants it to be productive - is attacking him, because they only care about making him shut up, and not about solving the problem. And anyone who digs into the gritty details of what will and won't work to try and solve the problem is also attacking him, or making excuses, or focusing on the wrong thing entirely. And that's proof again that he's alone, that he'll always be alone, that people will always be against him, that there's no way to say it right, instead of admitting he's said it the same way every time. You can lead people who resent you, if you have the will and charisma for it. But you can't lead people that you resent."
Jedao takes one hand off Eiffel's face and drags it down his face.
"I'm sorry, I'm not - I don't want to be mean. I just...I can see it, all the little knots he keeps tying himself in, and he's so raw from thrashing that I can't touch them without him screaming."
He's just - he's frustrated, but more than that he's so sad about it. It's an awful skullfucking trap, and he wants to get Neal out of it, and maybe somebody can, but that somebody is definitely not him.
"Hey-" He catches Jedao's face in both hands again. "-easy, slugger. We don't have to talk about it, if you're gonna start fingertrapping yourself. And I'm not gonna fight you 'cos you're upset about Neal being a nightmare right now. Okay?"
His hands coast down Jedao's jaw to his neck, resting his wrists on Jedao's collarbone. "He's got plenty of other people that can go worry about him. I already punched my ticket on this one. No shame in you needing to, too."
Jedao wants to bite something. Leather, or bone, something he can sink his teeth into and not let go. If he isn't letting people near him, then no the fuck he doesn't, he wants to snarl, but that's cruel and counterproductive.
"I just. Hate making things worse," he says finally. His eyes are closed against Eiffel's scrutiny, but he leans into the warm of his palms on Jedao's cheeks.
"Hey, if you wanna make things worse, help me find him when I know he's got grog on him," he comments with wry self-deprecation. "That'll go downhill so fast you'll hear the sonic boom."
His grip tightens on Jedao's face, just fractionally so he can lean up to kiss his forehead again, and follow that with a gentle one to his lips. "You tried. That's the most important part."
Jedao doesn't actually believe that. Trying matters, but results matter more. He does like being kissed, though, and he lets himself be comforted.
"I know it's not really about me," he says quietly. "I just...usually, I'm better at this, when I know to be careful." And feeling like he keeps getting it wrong also feels like he's in his first awful days again, clueless and manipulated, constantly saying the wrong thing, smiling the wrong way, making everyone flinch.
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"I'm mad at me," he murmurs eventually, voice still perfectly calm and gentle, hand still stroking steadily through Eiffel's hair. "But it's not on you to reassure me about hurting your brother."
Because whatever else he is or isn't, he's certainly hurt.
"And it's fine if he is, you know. I mean, not great, because that's awkward for you, and it's a damn shame because he's pretty amazing when he's not-"
There's just a moment when aggravation creeps into his voice, and Jedao's voice stops dead, like a switch flicked off. A beat later -
"He's passionate and deeply principled and instinctively kind and - deliberately, in defiance of instinct, brave. I wish I knew how to be kind to him in a way that's good for him, but. It does seem like I can't, and every time I try I've made it worse. And I want to stop."
His voice wobbles, just the once, with deep quiet pain, with old inescapable shame. I want to stop making it worse. He doesn't like hurting people. He can tolerate it when he's decided he needs to hurt someone to protect someone else. He really doesn't like hurting people because he's simply failed to do right by them.
He takes a slow breath.
"So - I'm backing off, that's all. I've been hated by people I admired before, you know? I can live with him thinking I'm an asshole and a coward. You don't need to...speak for him, or smooth things over. You can just love some people that don't get along. That's fine."
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But- still, right now it's about Jedao. So he picks himself up a little so he can roll onto his back, and rest his head properly in Jedao's lap - but also so he can lift his hand and brush his hand against Jedao's cheek, feeling the light stubble and sharp cheekbone with the backs of his fingers.
"I'm fine with that, you know? That's most of how us worked on the Hephaestus." Sometimes people don't get along, but it's a small space and you have to work with them regardless, and sometimes you just have to pretend that those emotions don't exist if you wanna work together. "But I'm still gonna be here. I'm not gonna let anyone make me pick a side for who I'm friends with. Or-" he gives a slight smile, staining his cheeks pink. "You know, whatever this is."
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"I know," Jedao promises. And he does know. He has absolute faith in Eiffel's unflinching, unstinting, unscrimping affection. He just doesn't want Eiffel to get hurt trying to run between them, or try to speak on Neal's behalf and drag Jedao into doing more damage, all well-meaning.
"You could still be a little mad," he mumbles, voice thick with emotion but huffing with a half-laugh at the same time, helplessly amused by his own absurdities. "I'm just - I'm so sorry."
And apologizing to Neal has consistently gone over about as well as a war crime, so it would be nice to get to apologize to someone about it.
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The problem with Eiffel is that he has a very difficult time being mad at anyone in distress.
"I forgive you, y'know," he says, quietly, and he barely has to lean up to plant a kiss on Jedao's forehead.
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"Okay," he says eventually, when he's sure his voice won't be watery. "Good. Thank you."
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"What about you, sweetheart? How are you holding up?"
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"Well, my brother's having an existential crisis and trying to go on a bender, so I couldn't even help him even if he did tell me where he was."
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It is, of course, much worse for Neal. Jedao breathes through the aggravation, down to what matters.
"He's taking it that badly?" Jedao asks, a sincere question with sincere empathy, even though he still isn't totally sure which part of what he said it was.
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"Do they have finger traps, on Earth?"
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Eiffel isn't the most socially perceptive - when his instincts are good, they're amazing, but he's more often coasting on sheer earnest good will than understanding the nuances.
But it's. It's happening right there.
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And immediately goes to drag a hand through his neatly tied hair, fizzing it almost immediately. "I dunno, he just... he cares so goddamn hard. I don't know if he knows how many people don't do that. Even the nice ones. And- not everyone's gonna agree with him!" He rears a little with the sentiment, spurred by the need to gesticulate. "I worked with four people and the amount of times I got everyone on board with one idea? I can't even count on one hand! What's he gonna do with fifty?!"
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"No, Eiffel. His problem isn't that he doesn't know enough about how people don't care. His problem is that he is dead fucking sure that anyone who doesn't care the same way as him or where he can see it doesn't care at all. And anyone who objects to his - distorted view is just more proof of it. So he gets angrier and feels more isolated and gets worse at talking about it."
Scritch scritch scritch, goes the finger trap. Jedao takes another slow breath and lets his aggravation run out of him.
"And it's not his fault that he's hurting and scared and probably never had a reason to trust people before if they were't proving themselves very credibly trustworthy. But it is not a useful mindset for team-building. And anyone who points out that he's constantly re-traumatizing himself and needs a damn vacation before he can have this conversation in a productive way - in the way he wants it to be productive - is attacking him, because they only care about making him shut up, and not about solving the problem. And anyone who digs into the gritty details of what will and won't work to try and solve the problem is also attacking him, or making excuses, or focusing on the wrong thing entirely. And that's proof again that he's alone, that he'll always be alone, that people will always be against him, that there's no way to say it right, instead of admitting he's said it the same way every time. You can lead people who resent you, if you have the will and charisma for it. But you can't lead people that you resent."
Jedao takes one hand off Eiffel's face and drags it down his face.
"I'm sorry, I'm not - I don't want to be mean. I just...I can see it, all the little knots he keeps tying himself in, and he's so raw from thrashing that I can't touch them without him screaming."
He's just - he's frustrated, but more than that he's so sad about it. It's an awful skullfucking trap, and he wants to get Neal out of it, and maybe somebody can, but that somebody is definitely not him.
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His hands coast down Jedao's jaw to his neck, resting his wrists on Jedao's collarbone. "He's got plenty of other people that can go worry about him. I already punched my ticket on this one. No shame in you needing to, too."
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"I just. Hate making things worse," he says finally. His eyes are closed against Eiffel's scrutiny, but he leans into the warm of his palms on Jedao's cheeks.
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His grip tightens on Jedao's face, just fractionally so he can lean up to kiss his forehead again, and follow that with a gentle one to his lips. "You tried. That's the most important part."
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"I know it's not really about me," he says quietly. "I just...usually, I'm better at this, when I know to be careful." And feeling like he keeps getting it wrong also feels like he's in his first awful days again, clueless and manipulated, constantly saying the wrong thing, smiling the wrong way, making everyone flinch.