- (sonrisa) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2013-03-26 18:48:00 |
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Dell stumbled out of the bar and onto the pavement of the sidewalk with little of his usual grace, his own inertia carrying him several steps further than he wanted. The crisp navy blazer he’d started with earlier in the evening was now hanging loose and creased from his shoulders, open wide and his hair was in disarray, his white, collared shirt had come unbuttoned at the top. The leather of his shoes creaked. The air was suddenly several degrees colder, the sun gone, and he couldn’t help but shiver as the sweat rapidly cooled off his skin, taking every ounce of heat with it. There was no loud music now, nothing pounding the eardrums, there was just the sound of cars passing and drunks yelling, of a girl somewhere flirting and of high heels on concrete. Dell closed his eyes and one hand went up to cover his face, before fingers slid through his hair. He tipped his chin up. He stood now, hands on his knees, looking up at the man who’d just physically ejected him from the establishment. There was no doubt that Dell was drunk, it was obvious in the glassy sheen of his eyes and the boozy smile on his lips. He was who knew how many drinks in and he weaved a little, the flats of his shoes lifting and falling as he tried to keep his balance. His lips twisted in the yellow of the street light. “And here I thought you were a gentleman,” he said with a mocking laugh, his voice all Southern vowels dipping playfully. It was likely true that he ought to have been running. He was in over his head. Brawling was not exactly something many academics engaged in. And, honestly, it was a loss of control - the anger, all of it - that didn’t sit well with Dell. He liked everything to be kept tightly bound. But, here he was with an undeniable urge that had risen from his stomach and settled somewhere in his throat to fucking break his fist on Sebastian’s perfect nose. He couldn’t remember now how they’d gotten to the sidewalk, what words had been exchanged, not exactly. It was all a red and black blur at the back of his eyes, like fleeting, fragments of a childhood memory. You knew it was there, and that you’d experienced it, and that was it. But, what he did know was that the other man deserved to have his teeth kicked in and Dell was going to do his best to accomplish the task. Sebastian had long since shed his own suit jacket, a charcoal grey thing that was tailored perfectly to his body. He had had several drinks on his own, a business meeting that went longer than anticipated, and after the meeting was over, it turned into something more casual, drinks among colleagues, and then he had run into Dell. To say that seeing Nell’s ex put a damper on his mood was putting it more than a little lightly, and had he not had several drinks running through his system, things might have gone a different direction. As it was, words had been exchanged, and a shove had sent them both towards the exit, Sebastian hot on Dell’s heels as they broke into the night air. “I reserve politeness for those that actually deserve it,” Sebastian said curtly, and in his white button down shirt with the sleeves turned up towards his elbows, he had a look that screamed business. “Pick yourself up and go crawl back to wherever it is you come from,” he instructed, a lift of his brows as he took a step towards him, all confidence and poise even with sweat causing those sand-coloured strands to stick to his temples and the back of his neck. The man was younger than him, but he had much more solid muscle, where Dell was wiry, and that dark tint to the foreign eyes that told Dell that this wasn’t the first time Sebastian had been reduced to fists. Why didn’t that surprise him? He was an astute judge of character (after all, it would be hard to manipulate someone otherwise) and he knew this Sebastian to be polite, but he was dating Eleanor, so of course, there had to be something more there, something deeper and darker. Dell’s eyebrows met and his lips turned down in feigned insult. A palm laid over his heart. He clucked sadly. “You wound me, Sebastian,” he breathed, finally straightening his spine. He was smaller in stature than the other man, but that didn’t intimidate Dell. He stepped closer in an open challenge, and then without another word he aimed a fist for the man’s stomach, timed with hardy kick to the shins for good measure. Dell wasn’t a fighter, but he could punch. “I wound you?” Sebastian had enough drink in him to give a roll of his eyes, shaking his head at the unimpressive comeback just moments before Dell launched himself forward with that thrown punch and the kick to his shins. The punch was easy enough to deflect, but the kick to the shins had him wincing in response. “I haven’t even begun to ‘wound’ you, darling.” And then Sebastian pushed forward, a strong left hook towards Dell’s jaw, his body weight thrown behind the punch with every intention of ending this as quickly as possible. His cheeks were flushed, his button down sticking to his back, but hell if he was going to back down from a fight with this piece of work. It's was the 'darling' that caught Dell off-guard, moreso than the fist hurtling toward his jaw, more than the imbalance he felt in his own body as his vision swam, more than anything. His head snapped up and his eyes narrowed, just in time for knuckles to smash into his face. There was nothing to be done for it. It felt like someone had just taken a crowbar to his jaw and it sent Dell staggering sideways. By some miracle, he managed to keep on his feet, but only just. A brick wall grew up behind him, and he hit it hard. No thought dared seep into the man's mind. He was all instinct now, operating on that desperate level of the drunk and the angry. He pushed off the wall and into Sebastian. His jaw throbbed and ached and one of his teeth might have been knocked loose, but that didn't matter. The pain registered only somewhere at the base of his amygdala. He wasn't punching anymore. One hand grabbed the wet front of the other man's shirt, tight, winching him in close, while the rest of Dell's weight took them both to the ground. If Dell thought that dragging him towards the ground was going to give him any favors, he thought wrong. Sebastian, while being drunk, was much more with it in those moments, and the leash that Dell had with the hand on his shirt only served to keep him in close as Sebastian drove his fist into the man’s face yet again, something dark in those normally warm and gentle eyes, something brought out by the amount of whiskey sliding through his veins. If he had been asked, he wouldn’t have been able to say why he was doing this, or even what had been said that had pissed him off so much. He was operating on automatic, and maybe there was a part of him that enjoyed the crunch of Dell’s face beneath his knuckles. So Sebastian's fist was now crashing into Dell's cheek and he couldn't see, he couldn't see that burgeoning darkness in the other man's eyes. There was an explosion, a firework of pain, that burst in a shower of stars behind closed eyes, and he was pretty sure the skin broke on the high bone of his cheek, but that didn't stop him. Sure he grunted and groaned, but he didn't stop. He kneed the man beneath him in the groin, hard and gained purchase against the cement, the bottoms of his shoes scraping hard against the ground. It took him a minute to realize he was tasting blood, and when he did, he was thoroughly surprised. Dell almost paused to reach a hand to his bruised face, to the tenderness that wrapped along his jaw, but he was never given the chance. It’s likely it might have gone on for many more minutes had Dell not brought his knee up hard against Sebastian’s groin. There was a grunt, and then the other man was pushing himself up to his feet and stumbling away, his knuckles aching and covered with blood, his breath hard to catch given the sudden assault upon his person. “On the ground is a good look for you,” he said thickly, head canted to the side. “And I hope you’ve learned to mind your words around me. If not,” he started, straightening slightly though the urge to crouch over to protect himself still lingered. “I’ll be happy to teach you another lesson.” The cool night air settled on Dell’s face like a breath and he opened his eyes as Sebastian’s weight lifted off of him. (Thank God.) He coughed wetly, the air struggling to make it out of his own lungs as well. He squinted up at the man whose shadow fell across him in a thick, black bar, trying and failing to make out the expression on the man’s face. The street lamp that rose high above the street shone down, splashing bright light onto the gray concrete and the side of the building, down, and reflected off the polished surface of Dell’s shoes. He groaned, even as he attempted to keep looking up at the other man. His entire body hurt and things swam in and out of his vision like ghosts. “Oh, yeah, sure,” he laughed, wincing in pain at the shocks the movement sent through his tired muscles. Dell rolled onto his side, bone scraping the sidewalk. His hair fell in his face, wet and thick. He barely managed to get himself onto his elbow. He spat out an angry glob of red at Sebastian’s feet. “You’ve taught me nothing. Fuck off.” A cough, then another wheezing sort of laugh. “You know, if you - if you fuck like you fight, now at least I understand why Eleanor needed - so much corrective instruction.” He coughed again. He had been ready to simply leave him there on the sidewalk, but somehow, the mention of Nell’s proper name had him coming back, sinking down into a crouch that made his groin ache in answer, but that was easily ignored. “Leave her out of this if you know what’s good for you, Dell. And if you tell her a word about this?” Sebastian started, his voice sweet as honey. “You will regret it. Don’t test me, Dell. I mean it.” Reaching down, he gave Dell’s cheek a quick smack, light and more patronizing than anything, and then the man was on his feet and striding away, leaving Dell to his own pain. There was nothing less than hatred in Dell’s eyes as he watched the other man turn, squat, and then, blink as the hand came forward to sting Dell’s already cut cheek. “Fuck -” He grit his teeth, not quick enough to respond in any other way, not even to bite out a ‘you’ to stick on the end there. And by then, Sebastian was walking away, taking his shadow with him and leaving Dell there in the pool of relentless light that made his head hurt and eyes itch. He exhaled and moved onto his back, skull flat against the cool cement, and closed his eyes. His entire body throbbed, but he ignored it. There was a warm, cottony darkness gathering at the back of his eyes, sliding around the back of his head, and it told him that if he just closed his eyes, just for a minute, and laid here, he’d feel better. And so he did. Fuck Sebastian. And fuck Eleanor. It wasn’t until someone, some good Samaritan in a long, beige coat and with teeth like an Englishman, was shaking him back into consciousness a few hours later, asking through the fuzzy collection of memories if he needed a cab or an ambulance, - when he awoke to a brown crust of blood on his lip and jaw like shattered glass and a saltiness in his stomach that warned of nausea, that Dell realized why he felt so empty. There was no one else in head. The day was just getting better and better. |