notaballad: (Pressing lips together)
Quebec knew that the time had come. With Topher upset and the threat of remote wipes being used on anyone at any time, the Doll was certain that there was no better time for his lover and him to escape. Echo had survived on the outside for three whole months, and while it was true that she was very special, Quebec liked to think that Kilo and he were pretty special too.

One might even have made the argument that they were more special than Echo, since they both remembered bits and pieces of their former lives. Quebec, for example, knew that Desmond could phase. Quebec knew this to mean that he could pass through inanimate objects as if they weren't even there, and late at night, after everyone went to sleep, he would practice in his pod. It wasn't easy at first; he wasn't sure how to call forth the power and it took a bit to learn its trigger, but after weeks (months?) of practice, he was able to easily slip through the heavy glass plate sealing his bed off from the rest of the world.

Tonight was the night, and he could've sworn that he felt the very air around him thrumming. He gave Kilo a secretive wink as they went to bed, and then he waited. Waited for the Dollhouse to slip into a quiet state of rest. It was a little bit eerie how still the Dollhouse became at night, and Quebec could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He was certain that someone could hear it and would come running to investigate. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, calling upon a meditation technique he'd been shown. His heartbeat calmed, and then he sat up, his intangible body easily passing through the glass plate.

Once he'd pulled himself up and out of the pod, he moved over to Kilo's, reaching his hand down into the pod. "Kilo," he whispered. "Take my hand."
"Try to reason about love, and you will lose your reason."
Anton Chekhov

Des let out a contented sigh as he kissed along Michael's shoulder blades. Michael was lying on his stomach, head turned away from Des as he caught a quick, post-coital nap. It was a rare afternoon where both of them had been free, and they'd decided to take full advantage by falling into Michael's bed.

"This is very, very nice," Des mumbled against the curve of Michael's shoulder. "I love you, Michael."

"Love you too, Des," Michael muttered sleepily, shifting a little as the alarm clock on the nightstand began to beep.

Des frowned, watching his boyfriend reach out and shut off the alarm. "What's that for?" he asked curiously as Michael stretched and slid out of bed.

"It's time for my Treatment," Michael said simply as he reached for his boxers.
Des blinked a little... )
"Sometimes someone can mean so much to you, that not even the truth can change your mind."

[Takes place immediately after this]

Sucker punched by the truth )

[Peter/Michael/Thatcher is [ profile] spongetastic and is used with permission <3]
Backdated like whoa to after this

Desmond was not a happy camper, not even remotely. He was worried sick about Michael and/or Peter; it wasn't like the man to go so many days without contacting Des in some form, whether it was over the boards as Peter or a phone call or dropping by as Michael. The man, Adam, his words had only made Desmond more nervous, but he refused to believe that Michael had just packed up and left without telling Desmond something. He also refused to believe that Michael had played him, as his brother Jude had suggested.

So, that night, he found himself donning his black and blue costume, tugging on the gloves and affixing the mask on his face. The costume was made of a lightweight, flame resistant material that allowed him to move without binding him. He headed down the fire escape, uncovering his motorcycle from its hiding place behind a pile of conveniently arranged cardboard boxes. He straddled the bike, pulling on his helmet, and then cranked the engine and zoomed off into the night.
It was a relatively short trip to Michael's apartment... )
Who: Desmond Molloy and Peter Petrelli/Michael Tarello/the really hot guy Des is dating
What: A Day at the Best Beach in the World™
Where: Whatever city they're in -- it is nondescript and generic? LA, maybe? IDK
When: Friday, April 17, afternoon
Rating: Knowing Des, it'll go to R really quick.

Des was giddy. )


Desmond Molloy

September 2011

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