InsaneJournal

William Adderson lacked quite a few social skills. In some ways, people generally saw the lack belatedly, for when compared to the wild snark of Billy Adderson, William seemed phenomenally put-together. But he wasn’t very good with understanding people, or more importantly getting himself out of his own insecurities rattling around his head. So when others told him that he was being a dick, it took him a while to figure out what they meant. He wasn’t getting drunk and picking fights with people. He wasn’t stealing cars or yelling. Those were all Bad Things that William Adderson simply didn’t do.

He had had time to wrap his head around the fact that he’d apparently hurt Alie Davis’s feelings. She was Alie. She tormented him, teased him, and flirted with him in a way that generally left him flustered and angry - flustered because well, she was actually quite pretty, and angry because she’d already slept with him once - slept with Billy, to be exact. He couldn’t imagine what game she was playing. The fact that it wasn’t a game at all hadn’t even occurred to him until she’d snapped at him.

The fact that both her friends and her sister hadn’t been encouraging didn’t really bode well, but William wasn’t surprised. He wasn’t about to fool himself with thinking that she was looking for anything serious. It was Alie. Still... he owed her an apology.

He knocked on the door to the Davis house around 5:00pm, taking a breath. Billy was pissed off and pushing at the edge of him - he was supposed to go to Paneras to hit on Charlie. Give me time, he muttered to Billy, who muttered something back that wasn’t suitable for general audiences.

“ALIE!” Her mother’s voice rang down the hall and into the living room, where Alie was currently camped on the couch with a snuggie, a large coffee and the remote, feeling sorry for herself. She’d already spent the day annoying both of her parents, who were torn between wanting to order her back home and letting her just camp out until she was ready to go back. For Alie, the choice was pretty easy. they had free food and a bigger TV. Her little apartment was cozy, but it was currently home to a bottle of Excedrin and Gatorade - two things she was currently ignoring in typical-Alie-fashion.

But her mother wasn’t about to walk across the entire house to answer the door when she had someone sitting a few feet away, so Alie pushed herself off the couch and padded across the carpet to the front door. Family walked right in (sometimes not even opening the door to do so), which meant the likelihood of it being an annoying salesman was high.

“We don’t want any.” Her voice was raised a little higher than usual and she finished talking before she had even opened the door the entire way. Oh. It was William. Well, likely William, as he had politely knocked.

“Isabelle isn’t here.” Lucky that her mother wasn’t around to censure her manners, she took a step back and pushed at the door to close toward him.

William felt a brief flash of panic as the door started to shut in his face, his hands raised to protect himself in case she decided to slam it. It was instinct to switch over, Billy shoving his foot in the crack to keep the door from shutting completely. “Oh, come on; like I’m going to come popping by for Isabelle so I can talk all about the fun I’m having at the hospital,” Billy muttered sulkily, but ceded control, and William was William once again. “Please? I need to apologize,” he said, throwing that on that table off the bat just so she’d know he wasn’t here to be a dick again. At least knowingly.

“Please,” he repeated.

Alie was already flopping back onto the couch with a grumble, nearly in full-pout. “Fine. Come in.” This was the point she was supposed to ask him if he wanted a glass of water or iced tea, wasn’t it? Well, whatever. She wasn’t her mother and she was angry with him over what had happened this morning. He’d been sweet, offering to bring her headache remedies, then he was snapping at her and she was already in a terrible mood.

Poor Flynn had suffered the most, having an iPhone thrown at his head probably wasn’t the highlight of the day, but the poor kid walked in at the wrong moment. She was acting like a child, but was too busy blaming her headache to actually admit to that out loud.

William came in and hovered over one of the chairs as she flopped onto the couch. Finally, he took a seat, leaning forward with his hands clasped together, chewing on his lower lip, unable to look at her all the way. Well. At least she wasn’t teleporting away (though the fact that she was nursing a headache probably had more to do with that than any lingering desire to hear what he had to say.

“I want to apologize for offending you - for being offensive - earlier today,” he said, looking at his hands.

One of Alie’s eyebrows raised. As far as apologies went, that one was pretty crap, but it was William, and it wasn’t as if she could do much better on that end. She was one of those people that ignored the issue or pretended like she forgot about it, rather than actually coming forward to apologize.

“I don’t want a “set”.” She stated, even pulling out the finger-quotations for effect. “In fact, I don’t even ever remembering trying to sleep with you. Flirted, yes. Joked with, yes. Teased, yes. But I haven’t showed up at your place with a bottle of wine asking for William, and I haven’t thrown myself at you - not really, anyway.” And half of the reason for that was because of her one-time thing with Billy. Which had clearly been a mistake, but she’d learned that one pretty quick. Billy wasn’t her type, no matter how much he looked like William. But dark and grumpy he was not.

“All right,” he said, taking a breath. She hadn’t said anything that she hadn’t intimated before, but still. He knew that his apology was pretty half-ass, but adding on to it would mean he actually had to talk. William didn’t like talking too much. Generally, it led to more drama and women hating him, but he felt like he owed Alie that much.

“I don’t,” he said, and then stopped. Took a breath and reconsidered. “People - women don’t tend to notice me. Billy gets the attention. So when they do, I...” he shrugged as a placeholder for words. “I figure that they’re just wanting to... I don’t know. Compare. Or something. It’s not you, specifically. It’s just...” he gestured in the air. “...my stuff.”

“I think you’re gesturing in the wrong area for your stuff.” The normal Alie popped up without warning, a smile appearing on her lips. Joking aside, if he was being honest, she might as well too. “I can’t say I haven’t thought about that.” The comparing was tempting, and she wouldn’t have blamed others for wondering the same thing.

She let out a deep breath, “Billy gets girls because he’s just that kind of person. He gets girls like I get guys - being outgoing and loud and whoring for attention will get you everywhere. That doesn’t mean girls haven’t liked you. I think Billy just tends to overpower when it comes to that one area. “

She paused, pulling her feet up under her, ““But, there’s a reason I haven’t thrown myself at you - and why I ended up picking Billy up that one night - and it’s not because he’s a loudmouth. I’m loud enough for the world - I don’t usually go for the loud types.”

He listened to her without comment, simply watching her with a mixture of wariness and hope on his face. William was awful at things like poker, the same game that kept Billy able to put up with half the rent check. Alie was saying a lot, actually - certainly more than he managed - but he was pretty sure he’d understood the important bits. Namely, that she liked the quieter ones (like me) and that she also compared herself to Billy a little bit, which he thought was bogus. William decided to address that part; it seemed easier.

“I don’t think you’re an attention whore,” he said quietly, finally giving her an angled look to the eye. “Not... completely, anyway.” No need to lie. “I wasn’t... I was kind of casting crap character accusations earlier, but those were my issues. You’ve never... come on as strong as some people.” Like Billy’s sort-of-girlfriend, Charlie. He didn’t even know what to say to her sometimes. “You really wouldn’t want to dance with me, though,” he added, giving her an apologetic, if small grin. “I’m awful.”

“I bet you aren’t as horrible as you think you are.” Though, it was possible. Likely, even. He wasn’t the most graceful person she’d ever met, but that was part of the fun. She suddenly felt a bit sorry for him, if she wasn’t the worst he’d come across, because she’d been horrible. “You’re a nice guy, William. Really nice.”

She hoped that her mother wasn’t about to nose in to see who had been at the door. “The reason I went for Billy? Because I don’t have to worry about fucking him up. Or worry about hurting his feelings - which isn’t something I normally care about. But you’re a nice guy.” She was talking a lot again, but the words were out before she could even bother worrying if he was lost. “You’re grumpy and sullen and soft-spoken and you say a lot without having to really saying much, and God knows that fits right into my type-cast, but I do draw the line somewhere.”

He was watching her now full-on, all attempts to keep it the corner of his eye dissolved as she babbled on. William had never minded it when other people talked a lot - it meant less time he had to talk. It wasn’t that he was shy, or that he always had been quiet. But it was a learned habit by now, and it seemed less important now that she was talking like she was.

She kept saying how “nice” he was, and while that wasn’t exactly an adjective to inspire fluttering in most boys’ hearts, it meant a lot to him, considering the other adjectives that had been tossed his way. That small smile grew a few more anchors into his face, settled in a little more. “Thanks for not deliberately fucking me up any.” He bit his lip, turned toward her a little more. “That’s... you’re a nice girl.” He paused, letting some time linger. “When you want to be.”

That remark was enough to earn him a big laugh, and her arms waved about a bit. “No, I’m not usually. I’m the mean one.” And the troublemaker. And now he was smiling, which was cute but not at all what she was going for. She turned sideways and propped her elbow up on the back of the couch and and leaned her face to the side, meeting his smile with her own.

“I’m probably not going to stop being a jerk and trying to get you to dance with me, or making sexual comments, or bugging you about how you should have more fun and drink with me.” To her, none of these things were particularly mean, but to the right person? Enough to make them snap. Like he did to her this morning. “And I’m still going to wonder if you’re a virgin. So, not as nice as you might think.”

He rolled his eyes with great feeling, the familiar sensation of irritated defensiveness bubbling up again as usual, which was probably exactly what she was aiming for, but he couldn’t prevent the reaction, all the same. He and Alie had been honest, and now it was back to business as usual. “For the record, while you’re not going to get me to dance like, ever, there’s nothing wrong with having fun or drinking and for Christ’s sakes, I had a troubled adolescence, do you actually think I didn’t manage to stumble into a situation in which I had sex?”

With a look of pure triumph, she jumped slightly in her seat. “That’s what I was going for! Thank you muchly for falling right into that trap.” Alie reached out and tweaked his shirt, “I’ll be sure to remind you of this conversation the next time I ask you to come do something fun with me and you tell me about homework or how you’re busy reading something.”

She sat back slightly, her eyes narrowing, “Unless every single time you’ve blown me off is because you think that I just wanted a piece of you to put on my mantle.”

“I really am going to med school,” William said pointedly. “My grades are good enough, my references are good enough, but you know as well as I do that some places aren’t too keen on mutants, especially in the medical industry. So.” He steeped his fingers. “I work hard. I work hard a lot. And believe it or not, Alie, it’s not entirely out of a burning need to reject you.”

Belatedly he realized that he’d returned to his usual level of snottiness, and halfheartedly batted her hand away with a glare. Very halfheartedly.

Med school was one of the things she envied about him - another thing she had in common with Billy but not him - she’d never been able to stick school out for more than two years. And teachers hated it when students would just teleport out of their classroom because they were bored, so she didn’t make any friends with them. She had pretty much hated school, and was glad it was beyond her, but sometimes it was nice to see people like William and Rachel dedicating that amount of time to their studies.

“Well, as long as that burning need is there...” Not quite the context he meant it, but sometimes she just couldn’t resist. “You’re going to rock that medical industry and show them what-for, but that doesn’t mean you don’t need to relax sometimes.” Her hand didn’t budge against his batting.

He rolled his eyes, gearing up for a protest. “I relax.” And there wasn’t much to add to that, because they both knew that the only time he really relaxed was when he ceded control to Billy and just peaced out entirely. But he didn’t concede easily, so he added: “I went to a concert. In Portland, two weeks ago. Some guys wearing girls jeans and playing synthesizers badly. And it was miserable.” So there, he silently added, taking her hand and giving it a stubborn fling despite the fact that it always kept coming back. “How’s your head?” he finally said, knowing he was on a sinking ship with this “I relax” conversation and quite happy to change subjects.

Her head was shaking even before he could finish talking about the concert. “Doesn’t count if you don’t have fun.” Like a concert was his scene. HA! But she wasn’t about to pick another fight, so she backed off the issue and removed her hand from his general vicinity. “It’s okay. Dull throb. Should be back to normal tomorrow, as long as I don’t take any sudden trips to China or drink a bottle of tequila.”

Alie gnawed a bit on her lower lip and covered her forehead and eyes with a hand, “Thank you for this morning, bringing me a care package even though I was being a brat.”

“No problem. Don’t take any sudden trips to China or drink a bottle of tequila then, all right?” He peered at her with a bit of a frown on his face; he knew that she tended to push herself harder than she needed to. Hell, the prescription for pain medication she’d scrawled over the journal system implied as much. “Unless this is your way of trying to get me to play doctor.” Which is to say that she wasn’t the only one who knew how to make these inappropriate puns.

“Would that work?” Alie quipped immediately, her eyebrows shooting up. “I was once told that temple pressure therapy would work, but I haven’t been able to find anyone that does it well enough.” William was in trouble if he was going to start making inappropriate jokes like that, because she wasn’t likely to let up until he snapped at her again. And he couldn’t snap at her if he was doing the same thing, could he?

“Temple pressure therapy?” he sputtered, looking vaguely insulted. “Really. While we’re at it, why don’t you give acupuncture or reflexology a try. Or, hey, aromatherapy. Chanting. Everyone loves a good New Age cure.” All right, so William tended to hate on anything that was too vaguely hippie-ish and free-love. So sue him. “Besides, temples - located here.” He tapped the side of his head. “Not anywhere...” Aw, shit. He colored briefly. “...else.”

Alie was tempted to make a soapbox joke, over him getting so incredibly worked up over the topic of New Age remedies, but refrained, “Don’t knock it. When you’re taking twice the maximum dosage of a prescription medication everyday, you’ll try just about anything to prevent you from taking a power drill to your temporal lobe.” Sometimes, a lobotomy would have been a welcome relief. “You’re welcome to give me suggestions on which body parts I should have my doctor focus on, though.”

“Hmmmmm,” was his generic response, as the expression he gave her once again fell a little further on the “concerned” side of things rather than “obstinate”. He’d been on meds, off and on. More on than off when he was a teenager and locked in an asylum. The experience had taught him to be wary of too much - a lesson that Alie didn’t seem to have learned yet.

“I’ll let you know,” he said, and got to his feet. “I’ve got to go, actually. Billy’s supposed to meet Charlie at Panera.” The expression on his face indicated how riveting he thought this was.

The medication had been a long-standing issue between Alie and her parents, and they knew she couldn’t handle it without a mild dosage, but she also used her power a lot more than one would normally recommend.

At least this time she didn’t have the complete feeling she’d scared him off. “All right.” She pushed herself off the couch and followed him to the door, “One of these days I’ll get you to actually hang out with me. I hope Billy has fun, though.” Knowing Billy? Probably not an issue. But it was Panera. Which was hardly the most exciting place in town.

Probably half the reason Charlie was wanting entertainment. Billy would go pretty far for a lemonade, when all was said and done. “I’ll see you around,” he said, his hands moving to his pockets awkwardly. “Glad you’re feeling better. And thanks for not like... disappearing as soon as you saw me.” Because headache be damned, he was pretty sure that had still been an option for Alie. He quirked up the corner of his mouth in his usual stoic sort of smile. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“That would’ve been rude, and my mama raised me right. With proper manners and all that shit.” With a slightly evil smile, Alie slid forward one step and planted her lips on his before he could freak out and run away (if he wasn’t frozen in his spot, anyway) for a fairly chaste kiss. In the next instant, she was gone, and careful not to take him with her when she teleported out of his sight.

Hopefully he’d shut the front door. Crap.

It wasn’t looking likely that that front door would be closed anytime soon, as William was standing there with a sort of shocked, dazed, irritated expression that rarely came from being kissed, but was there on his face nevertheless. As was often the case when surprise happened, Billy took advantage of the situation and took over, shutting the door to the Davis household a little louder than was probably warranted (but Billy couldn’t do anything more quiet than was warranted).

She kissed me, said William, still caught in whatever emotionally-induced data loop he was in. Billy rolled his eyes with great feeling and checked his watch.

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered. “You’re a real boy now. Panera time.”

She kissed me.

“Jesus Christ, I’m a loser.”