The windows show the spring, blues and greens melting into blacks. Billy sits up in bed and watches Sean move around the room.
“Should I not have done that?”
Sean sits down on the bed, trying to get a t-shirt on. He looks over his shoulder and repeats himself.
“Should I not have done that?”
Done what? Billy wants to ask, just to be a dick, but he doesn't.
“I don't like him.”
“Yeah.” Sean puts the shirt in his lap, fingers clenching in the fabric. Billy reaches out, takes it.
“Turn around.”
He starts at the uninjured arm, then the head, working his way down. He's twisted up, around Sean, working the other arm through gently, when Sean whispers to him, lips so close that they could be kissing.
“Do you really hate him? Or do you hate that he's who Sullivan was pretending to be?”
Billy doesn't flinch, doesn't want Sean's arm jarred anymore than it has been. He pulls Sean's hand through the sleeve and eases it down, sitting back.
“You're an asshole.”
Sean shrugs and gets up, goes to the bathroom. Running water and the smell of toothpaste.
Billy lies down, but he hates going to bed angry, hates being who his parents were, both of them angry without saying a word.
“I shouldn't have said that.”
“It's true.” Sean's got his back turned, and Billy just wants to roll over and make him look at him.
So he does.
“It usually works for you.”
That makes Sean turn around, smiling a little, a faded version of his usual smirk.
“Me being an asshole?”
Billy nods. “It's your thing.”
“Yeah.” Sean nods. “It works, too.”
“Most of the time. You should have told me."
"I should have?"
Sean's voice is soft, vague, face blank, and Billy's just as pissed as he was before.
"Look, either I work with you, or I'm there so you don't have to worry about me falling down the stairs while you're out. Which one is it?"
Either I work there, or I'm like the magnetic paperweight on Brown's desk, pretty and a distraction when days are slow, is what he doesn't say, even though he wants to. Wants to know why all of a sudden there's no word of a shoot out being blasted his way, wants to know why he waits at home, like some fucking civilian, or something, while Sean goes out and gets himself shot.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2008-10-08 03:01 am (UTC)“Should I not have done that?”
Sean sits down on the bed, trying to get a t-shirt on. He looks over his shoulder and repeats himself.
“Should I not have done that?”
Done what? Billy wants to ask, just to be a dick, but he doesn't.
“I don't like him.”
“Yeah.” Sean puts the shirt in his lap, fingers clenching in the fabric. Billy reaches out, takes it.
“Turn around.”
He starts at the uninjured arm, then the head, working his way down. He's twisted up, around Sean, working the other arm through gently, when Sean whispers to him, lips so close that they could be kissing.
“Do you really hate him? Or do you hate that he's who Sullivan was pretending to be?”
Billy doesn't flinch, doesn't want Sean's arm jarred anymore than it has been. He pulls Sean's hand through the sleeve and eases it down, sitting back.
“You're an asshole.”
Sean shrugs and gets up, goes to the bathroom. Running water and the smell of toothpaste.
Billy lies down, but he hates going to bed angry, hates being who his parents were, both of them angry without saying a word.
“I shouldn't have said that.”
“It's true.” Sean's got his back turned, and Billy just wants to roll over and make him look at him.
So he does.
“It usually works for you.”
That makes Sean turn around, smiling a little, a faded version of his usual smirk.
“Me being an asshole?”
Billy nods. “It's your thing.”
“Yeah.” Sean nods. “It works, too.”
“Most of the time. You should have told me."
"I should have?"
Sean's voice is soft, vague, face blank, and Billy's just as pissed as he was before.
"Look, either I work with you, or I'm there so you don't have to worry about me falling down the stairs while you're out. Which one is it?"
Either I work there, or I'm like the magnetic paperweight on Brown's desk, pretty and a distraction when days are slow, is what he doesn't say, even though he wants to. Wants to know why all of a sudden there's no word of a shoot out being blasted his way, wants to know why he waits at home, like some fucking civilian, or something, while Sean goes out and gets himself shot.