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Jason is loved and the fact freaks him out a bit.
A lot actually.
Not because Jason is unlovable, but mostly because Jason is kind of a horrible person. He is. Jason is not a good person. He isn’t. He doesn’t lie about this, he’s actually very aware of himself. Jason is just a horrible person that happened to do good things. So, in his mind, he’s a shit hero. Shit heroes don’t deserve to be loved unless they’re less of a shit by the end of the story.
Jason’s story has ended, but he’s five times a shit if you ask him.
“That’s your fucking problem, Snow” Vaas grins, his head in Jason’s lap. They were on the beach, the sun low and the temperature cool. The air was salty and the sand was warm, lapping at Jason’s feet. Vaas had pulled Jason’s shirt off him (not that Jason tried to stop him), in order to create makeshift pillow after adjusting Jason’s legs like the spoilt fuck he is. He is lying on Jason’s lap, his own legs being brushed by the slow waves in front of them.
Jason finds it interesting that whenever he wants to be alone, Vaas would stroll along as if they happened to be in the same place at the same time by accident like a goddamn cat. Jason should be allow to wallow in his guilt and be an ‘emo little shit’ (as affectionately dubbed by Vaas) in peace. It was easier this way, dealing with the problem by ignoring it and taking massive amounts of drugs.
But noooo, Vaas is from Rook Islands where they don’t deal with their problems like healthy Americans. No, Vaas needs to directly address his problems rather than ignore it, usually with violence so Jason guesses he should be grateful (he’s not).
“You feel bad because you think you should feel bad” Vaas continues, poking him in the side, “Not because you actually do” He wraps his arms around Jason’s waist, and moves up his chest now in Jason’s lap and his head against Jason’s stomach. “You were never meant for the way you were raised.” Vaas looks up at him, pupils dilated. “You were a wolf raised by sheep, hermano”
Wolf
Monster
What’s the fucking difference? he wonders a loud.
Vaas tilts his head back and laughs, “God,” he put his face against Jason’s chest. “You can be so fucking dumb sometimes” Jason’s feels his fingers tapping against his back, the rhythm unfamiliar and quick. “Monster is what the sheep calls the wolf. Why? Because they’re being fucking eaten, of course. The sheep is weak. They’re walking carne, after all and they’re all destined to die as prey.” He gets up, on his knees, hands holding onto Jason’s,
“They can only bleat and weep, nothing else. Why? Because it’s in their shit nature to die with their throats between our fangs” Vaas brings Jason’s hands to his mouth, a slow kiss on each knuckle. “Isn’t it better to die a bloody death than from something so boring like old age?”
"I don't think the sheep feel the same"
"Who's goddamn problem is that? 'Boo fucking hoo, I'm destined to die on someone's plate' " Vaas snorts. "Either get fangs or lie on the floor with your neck bared"
Another kiss and Vaas grins, “What truly matters is, what does the wolf call itself?” he rubs his cheek against their hands. “It calls itself what it is. A wolf. Nothing more, nothing less. It has few concerns and nothing else. Mount. Fuck. Consume” Widened lips diminish into a dreamy smile. “Is there anything more fucking beautiful?”
Vaas pulls him, close, “Don’t feel bad for following your nature” he mumbles, pressed to his lips, and Jason accepts the kiss. He accepts it like the feeling of Vaas’ body against his. He accepts it like the heaviness of a loaded gun in his hand and the feeling of a machete slicing through flesh. He accepts that this is his reality, and when he feels fingers tugging on his belt, he smiles because he accepts that this is his happiness and he is loved.
Shit hero and all.