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@mistgetsinyoureyes
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I don’t believe in Devils, In hell or hell’s black art: I only trust your eyes now, And your devil’s heart.
Heinrich Heine, from “I don’t believe in Heaven” (tr. by A.S. Kline)
nearlyalmosthuman:
When Tom spoke up, Elliott’s eyes instantly returned to his.
Thanks. He wasn’t sure what he expected. Maybe more downplaying? Instead, he got gratitude. It wouldn’t do much for his guilt. The opposite, actually. It felt unearned.
That didn’t stop him from taking the hand though. He knew these were feelings he’d need to deal with alone.
“Thanks?” He responded tentatively anyway.
“What’re you thanking me for?” Tom winked, and slammed Ell’s hand down on the table without warning. The bottle wobbled precariously again.
funny face penalty masterpost
beannachtai na bealtaine 😘
nearlyalmosthuman:
Elliott winced at that and tore his eyes away.
“I knew you two had something going. I did a bad thing, Tom.” He sighed, disinterested in downplaying it the way Tom was.
Honestly, he was embarrassed. Of the man that was so desperate for comfort, he would hurt his close friend as soon as it was offered. Of the choices he made soon afterwards too.
But he was tired of running, and justifying, and compartmentalizing. He wanted to be better.
“I’m sorry.” Finally, he got to say it to him.
Tom flinched as Ell looked away, drawing his arm down closer to his side. Stupid ass. Not like any of them could forget it. He squeezed his neck, trying to will his grip warmer.
He’d known, too. Turning Logan—not telling him—had been more than a mistake. More than a fuck up, too, and no excuses, no reasoning, could change the weight of the results. So. So, he should get it.
Or at least accept it.
Tom let go of the bottle, leaving it to wobble precariously before dropping his elbow onto the table and holding his hand out for his friend’s.
“Thanks.”
brashandbrux:
“No, I…I don’t think so.” Cedar wasn’t sure, though, and it was clear in her tone. “I don’t fuckin’ know. Ya know we fuck up Brux who step out an’ actually make fledglings. It’s messed up. An’…an’ it shouldn’t have exceptions, right?”
If they knew who Tom was and what he did, well, that’d be damning in itself that she convinced her family to let him work there. She wouldn’t bring that up, though. Felt too much like telling him to get out and get lost, or to be grateful. Would be a fucked up thing to say, considering he’d already paid for his little stunt once.
“…Maybe they lose the bar. Regs don’t look at us too close, but I fucked up.”
“No, it doesn’t get exceptions.” Tom’s throat tightened (knew that better than anyone), but he didn’t look away. His mind had gone to the same place. She’d already been sticking her neck out for him. Maybe too far, now... “They know you enough t’know you wouldn’t, though, I’d fuckin’ hope.
“But I don’t think you gotta worry much about that part, least. The bar. Y’know how many warnings I got over the years? Even Pep—she got one, for some shit or other. A warning’s... It’s an excuse to keep an eye on you, if they think you got a lead they want. They ain’t gonna waste their time ‘less you start really rackin’ ‘em up and catching their attention, though. So, as far as fuck ups go? Minor.”
brashandbrux:
“Yeah. You know Brux–or, ‘least, my fam–we’re real fucked up ‘bout fledglings and feedin’. Everyone wants ta interrogate me.” Cedar felt the ghost of bile in her mouth from when her own mother had asked if she’d done it. If she’d fed on a human. She knew why, but it still felt like something was broken between them ever since.
“One o’ my aunts, she’s never liked me. She’s been chompin’ at the fuckin’ bit for a reason to get me kicked out.” Cedar ran her tongue over one of her long teeth, interrupting with a sudden tsk. Why was she suddenly dumping to Tom? Did she think he’d understand? He’d actually done the things he’d gotten in trouble for. “And everyone’s on eggshells since I’ve got a fuckin’ ‘warning’ so.”
Tom had never been especially good at keeping his expressions flat, and so, he had already been scowling as Cedar talked. What’d someone even have if not their family at their back? Bullshit, she did it. Shouldn’t matter how much more seriously Brux took it than others. This wasn’t some quiet cousin, visiting the first time, or some brother who’d been off missing doing who the hell knew what. They knew her.
“Warnin’s mean a lotta things. But you’re not—” (Like me?) “—stupid or some shit. Don’t catch their eye much and you’ll be a’ight.” He slowly tapped a finger on the table. “Family’s worried about the bar?”
mistgetsinyoureyes:
Tom would argue that, from experience, a couple of questions could definitely be an interrogation, when said in certain tones. Fortunately, Cedar kept on, and Tom kept his mouth shut. No making problems worse today.
“You’re good. S’it the—” He lifted his chin and looked pointedly at her forehead. “—concussion, or somethin’ else?” His grin turned momentarily wide and charming—the trademark Tom smile, like that hadn’t gotten him into trouble enough, too. “Me bein’ an annoyin’ Caligo, maybe?”
Cedar’s pitch eyes narrowed at him, but in the end she let out a huff through her nose and a wave of the hand. “Whatever. I’m used to ya. Things’ve just been…”
Uncomfortable. Alienating.
“…I dunno. Fucked up, since I got back.” Since she’d left, really, but that felt like the more acceptable layer of the shit cake.
And she was gonna be more used to him, he might threaten, except for the way she cut herself off. Tom slouched forward and frowned.
"People treatin' you weird? Or y'mean... you beatin' yourself up?"
mistgetsinyoureyes:
Tom’s frown deepened. Right. That. Hell of a time to bring it up… Though the place. He fought down a wince and wished he weren’t facing the back hallway, at that moment.
“Fling’s more generous than what it was, I think, yeah?” The Caligo swung a leg up onto the booth and tucked himself into the corner. Across Hangar, the bar was growing crowded, though the crowd didn’t seem to be dispersing much from there. Busy night. “Guess that’s the generational gap talkin’.”
He looked back from the bar and flashed the other vampire a wink.
“… You really beatin’ yourself up over that?”
Elliott let out a low chuckle at the generation comment, unsure if he should be offended or not. Mostly, he was amused and a little wistful. He missed Tom’s boldness too.
“Shouldn’t I be?” He asked simply, not buying the alternative.
"I mean, I ain't gonna say it didn't suck."
He's behind the bar, with Pepper, cheering himself up by making a scene and some drinks for the gathering crowd. He'd really thought... what? That Logan was looking at him differently, trying to tell him something?
Nah. Foolish of him, to think he'd be worth more than a few messy kisses, tucked in back hallway where no one would know, and that foolishness is felt tripled when he looks up, green eyes meet brown, and Tom realizes he will never be what Logan wants.
Even a Caligo can make his peace with it, eventually.
"... Whaddya want me to say, man?" Tom slowly spun his bottle by the rim, leaving behind wet spirals on the table. "I was jealous, sure, but it's not like he an' I were anything, then. And I'd say it all worked out, 'cept..."
His other hand closed on the back of his neck.
nearlyalmosthuman:
“It’s not the only thing I mean.” Because, yeah, Elliott was still beating himself up for leaving. However, that wasn’t his only indiscretion that hung over the two. Or, at least, hung over Elliott.
“We never talked about it.” He started, the corners of his lips lifting in a smile that looked more painful than anything else due to the creasing of his brow. Elliott avoided Tom’s eyes as he spoke. “I didn’t think I’d get the chance to apologize to you…”
Then, he managed to look at the man across from him again. The vampire couldn’t help but internally cringe as he prepared to put words to his own selfishness. “…You knew about the fling, didn’t you?” It was a guess, sure. But an educated one.
Tom’s frown deepened. Right. That. Hell of a time to bring it up... Though the place. He fought down a wince and wished he weren’t facing the back hallway, at that moment.
“Fling’s more generous than what it was, I think, yeah?” The Caligo swung a leg up onto the booth and tucked himself into the corner. Across Hangar, the bar was growing crowded, though the crowd didn’t seem to be dispersing much from there. Busy night. “Guess that’s the generational gap talkin’.”
He looked back from the bar and flashed the other vampire a wink.
“... You really beatin’ yourself up over that?”
Three of Swords and Ace of Swords
My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.
nearlyalmosthuman:
Elliott shouldn’t have been surprised that his comment hit a sore spot with Tom, but he was. Maybe he was getting too comfortable being his friend again, after everything that’s happened.
“Of course not…” But did he have any right to say he was good for Tom? No. Not really. He made too many bad choices surrounding him to really say that. “…Not Pepper, although I…could’ve been a far better friend to you than I have been.” He let that statement linger heavy in the air. An opening, if Tom wanted to take it.
"We really gonna rehash you leaving?” Tom frowned. “It’s done. Pep ain’t upset about it anymore, and I’m not gonna drag you around by the ear over it.”
But Ell knew that. And yeah, sure, he tended towards introspection to the point of pain, but they were past that shit, Tom had thought, and in the pause it felt like Ell had an expectation. Of...
“... That’s not what you mean.”
nearlyalmosthuman:
Elliott felt himself getting emotional as Tom spoke. It didn’t show, other than an unmistakable pensiveness in his expression.
Aside from being…just relieved that Tom was able to have these things after what had happened to him. Plans. Something struck a chord with him.
That somehow, even a man who had died was able to find that happiness. Hope. There it was again.
“I can’t believe you found someone good for you.” He decided to joke instead of letting on the fact that what he said had deeply affected him. But, then his smile got much softer. “…I’m happy for you.”
Things—comments—usually rolled off Tom, especially any about his own various... affairs. People said things, thoughtlessly, and it didn’t matter.
Except Ell did.
Tom flinched. Barely noticeable, probably, and he smiled, lazily and toothily and just quick enough after the flinch to cover it.
“Wooowie. What’re you an’ Pep, chopped liver?”
brashandbrux:
“Couple-a questions ain’t an interrogation, fuck.” Cedar grumbled, brows pinched. She shut her eyes a moment, squeezing them together like it would provide clarity rather than just adding to her headache. She needed to get it under control. She wasn’t allowed a temper, not right now. “Whatever. Sorry, fuckin’–everythin’s gettin’ on my goddamn nerves tonight, alright?”
Tom would argue that, from experience, a couple of questions could definitely be an interrogation, when said in certain tones. Fortunately, Cedar kept on, and Tom kept his mouth shut. No making problems worse today.
“You’re good. S’it the—” He lifted his chin and looked pointedly at her forehead. “—concussion, or somethin’ else?” His grin turned momentarily wide and charming—the trademark Tom smile, like that hadn’t gotten him into trouble enough, too. “Me bein’ an annoyin’ Caligo, maybe?”