#james *broadcasting emotions* holden

[always-tilting-at-windmills]

[always-tilting-at-windmills]

“They're kind hands that Timmy doesn't know. But Amos does.” ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❣️🤯

“We’ll figure this out.” prompt Holden to Amos 4x08

Angst/fluff Prompt List, accepting

"We'll figure this out," Holden says and he believes it. He's the only one who does believe it on this fucked up planet. 

Amos doesn't. He knows what the odds are saying. 

There are a lot of ways he could have died so far. A bullet hitting something critical. A blood vessel in his head popping under high g. A malfunction during a space walk.

Space had always been a dangerous place to live but so had Baltimore. Lately, aliens had been thrown into that mix and now, it could be a poisonous slug falling on his skin while he's too blind to see. It's still the churn coming for him. 

He's not afraid. 

"You got them all, they're dead," Holden says again and he realizes it's the first time he missed some of what Cap said. 

He doesn't say that. Admitting it would be as bad as saying he can't see anything but green. 

His grip doesn't loosen from the flame thrower. 

He's not afraid.

Holden guides him back to an empty place to sit under the covers. He doesn't say it, but he knows what Amos tried to hide. As long as they both pretend, it's fine. 

He tries in jerky movements to remove his jacket but it gets stuck on his body. He just can't see at what. He can't see, and that worsens his coordination. 

"Amos," a familiar voice slips through his thoughts. "Amos, let me," the voice continues and hands are touching his shoulders. He has to stop himself from trying to take a swing at the person. Person- it's just Holden. Holden with his deep voice and his gentle touch.

His friend, his brother who'd never hurt him. 

"Too hot," he says as an excuse but that's not the real reason. The jacket is too warm, too comfortable for now. Suitable for their trip, but not helpful at stopping him from losing his focus. He counts his breaths, counts Holden's grunts as he peals away the insulating material. 

The sudden cold of the ruins brings him back some. He can feel the crate he's sitting on, feel Holden's shoulder as he sits next to him in a slouching manner. He's exhausted, he can tell that now from his breaths but there's nothing Amos can do about that anymore. 

He's not afraid. 

He wishes he could tell when Holden left. Who are the people that he hears murmurs from, they're all background chatter that fades into nothingness. Just like green fades into darkness.

He hasn't felt fear since he was five years old. 

He can't feel his feet. Can't tell how far he's wandered off. How much time has passed. Where he is, who he is anymore. 

He feels like he's five years old again. 

Timmy spirals.

His body is moving without knowing. There's nothing to do but wait till he's dead. Doesn't mean he has to let it happen easily, though. He won't go down without a fight. 

Hands are on his face and he wants to tear them off.

Except something's different. There's a chorus of It's all right, I got you; it's okay, it's me. The hands stay in the same place. They don't try anything else. 

They're kind hands that Timmy doesn't know. 

But Amos does. 

The voice suddenly matches with a name. It's Holden. The hands belong to Holden. And he lets out a long exhale. He's safe, for now. They're not getting out of this, but Cap will watch out for him.

Holden speaks again with his palm against Amos' cheek. He only catches words here and there, but the hope and desperation radiate in waves. He can't feel the same, but he knows Holden does.

Instead, he closes his eyes and turns towards the touch. Maybe it'll give some comfort to Holden, maybe part of him needs it too. It feels like the right thing to do if he had to guess. He knows it's safe. But most of all, it feels like a choice.

The churn comes and he'll either survive it or he won't. It had always been this way. But it's the first time, he realizes, he always wanted a choice. He's not a person that wants things besides sleep, booze, and fuck, and it won't mean anything if he dies. (Except it will, because the words sound clear now; I can't lose you.) It'll be just life, catching up with him. Still, he realizes the how matters to him. Dying to protect the four people he has in his life. It'd be a good death. Dying because a green alien slug happened to fall when he was too blind to prevent it... It leaves a burning in his gut that's too unfamiliar to name. 

He forgets. And the dark little room comes and goes. 

There's a pressure against his shoulder that he can feel through the material-since when does he have his jacket on again?-as another body rests on him. There's a sigh, exhausted but relieved this time. Hope shining through. There's only one person down here it could belong to.

"Dr. Okoye figured out a treatment for your eyes."

The fog lifts.

He had thought that was a part of the blindness but now he knows it came the moment he first got the news. It only caught up to him the moment he became defenseless.

"We're getting out of here?" His own voice comes out lighter, surprised. The corners of his lips move on their own. Not the mask he usually puts on because he figures people respond well. It's genuine and he lets it. Only Cap can see it anyway and it's something that'd make him happy and shit. "I didn't think you could pull this off." Because well, he didn't. Lying about it seems pointless.

Holden's breath isn't as shallow anymore and there's an inhale that sounds like he's about to laugh. 

"Now, I can say I took you in a fight," he exhales bumping his shoulder more intentionally than the first time.

He leans closer too, chasing that lighter mood. It grounds him better than anything so far. He can see, even if he can't see, yet. The high is almost contagious. 

"You can say whatever you want," he says because there will be a tomorrow to say it to. In the galley, with Alex and Boss and a bottle of whiskey while they head back to Sol.

Holden laughs and it smooths that burning inside him. He holds onto the sound for the next few hours like a balm.

Amos does asks for one thing, though, before Holden leaves to get the second dose for him. To take him by the young boy who he promised he wouldn't let anything happen to. Now, he can actually make true of that. 

He can almost tell Cap had a dopey expression as he fulfills his request. 

"Told you we'd figure it out," he reminds, hopeful and proud but never arrogant. Amos knows he'll carry this even if he can't yet notice the bags under his eyes. It's the last thing Holden says before he leaves to go back to Elvi.

Next time, he'll believe it even when it seems impossible.

He's not afraid again.

[cripple-cat]

firstly im making bad decisions again SECONDLY i have WRITERS BLOCK and a migraine and im definitely gonna vomit

that expanse fanfic is still on its way but im still moving and also chronically ill so sneak peak everybody because i feel bad

"So, how much sleep you get last night?"

"What?"

"Do I have to repeat myself or are you trying to deflect?"

"Uhhhhhh…" he trails off. Not like he has an answer to give. He knows what the question was but he didn't even hear it, and he doesn't know the answer anyway. "I don't. I don't know. What about you?"

"What about me? I sleep fine most of the time. You barely fucking sleep."

Amos isn't breaking eye contact. He isn't breaking eye contact. Fuck. Blink. Fuck. "I sleep fine. How's that coffee?" Good save, really good save. 

"Pretty alright, actually. How'd you get this good at making coffee?"

"By not sleeping enough, I guess. Isn't that what you just said?" 

"It is. How much did you sleep last night?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"You mean you didn't sleep last night."

It's not a question. It's a statement of fact. Which is also entirely true. And Amos knows that, if he didn't he wouldn't have said it. Is it really that bad?

[always-tilting-at-windmills]

[always-tilting-at-windmills]

new fanfic!

[g1ngan1nja]

Hopepunk

thinkin abt the way the expanse may be all grim and dark at times but it also never paints trying to make the world better as pointless

[always-tilting-at-windmills]

[always-tilting-at-windmills]

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*I love all these moments!!* ✅🥰

#3 “sure thing Skipper!”

{the begrudging tone - but - a role word - Amos uses role words when he respects you - Boss - Captain - Doc - Rev -}

*The Amos gotta touch Holden moment in “Static” ... 💗

*The way Amos processes now by checking Holden’s facial expressions....😳

*Amos talking to Holden on Ganymede....🌟

‼️

{3x08} The second to last one ☝️ {screams 😍}

⏩The way Holden falls....reaching for Amos ....

Amos catches him automatically.....in that big bear hug 😭 ....

❣️The trust in each other!❣️

[always-tilting-at-windmills]

[always-tilting-at-windmills]

Juxtaposition

The way they help each other. Even when there is nothing they can do about a situation. The offer stands. No judgment. Unconditionally.

[always-tilting-at-windmills]

Still glad they had this talk …🤯

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SQUARE ⏹️ WATERMELON 🍉

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Amos with Erich. Firm & Forceful grip.

Minutes later …….

Gentle & affectionate (even amused) grip with

Holden

Very much showcases two different times in his life.

[always-tilting-at-windmills]

Thanks to Jerk-Bending for this PERFECT 🤩 Jamos poetry.

These Violent Delights, Micah Nemerever ( @honeylover ) | Peripety Project, Jen Mazza