InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "if you're bored, you're boring"

Bobby Drake (frostbyte) wrote in devolve,
@ 2011-01-26 02:36:00

Who: Bobby & Sam (with Lewis and Annie)
What: Chat. Fight.
Where: Sam's room.
When: Tuesday night.
Rating: PG-13 (for language)
Status: Complete

It wasn't often anymore the halls bore witness to Bobby seeking anyone out who was not tall, lean and Canadian. But try as he might, he couldn't just let go, as he knew he ought to. And while he hadn't meant to go right instead of left, it had happened, and he'd let it.

He found himself outside of Sam's room, leaning against the wall and listening to his tucking in ritual. Closing his eyes to better absorb the cadence of Sam's voice, he tucked his hands behind him and let the words roll over him. Sam's voice had changed, he noted with an accompanying spike to the chest. While he knew they'd all changed in some ways - he himself in some big ones - it still hurt to be confronted by it. Especially when it was someone like Sam.

They're still so small...They'll never understand how people fail and lives break down, and don't turn out the way you planned.

Bobby shook himself. None of that now, subconscious.

Turning, he leaned into the door, sliding into the frame as it swung open with a not so quiet creak. He slipped into it as Sam turned to look at him, arms full with sleeping twins.

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_rocket_butt_
2011-01-27 09:34 am UTC (link)

"It don't need t'be a fuckin' intervention," he snapped. "An' you think I don't know the whole fuckin' world's changed? You think you're the only one who sees it? I just didn't figure t'have to watch one of the best men I've known workin' so god damned hard not to give a shit about anyone he used t'care about no more. Guess it's good that Jean-Paul's still allowed to give a shit, 'cause the rest of us are apparently just supposed to fuck right the hell off!"

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frostbyte
2011-01-27 09:38 am UTC (link)

The shifting of his form was slower the second time. Not because it was more focused, or less, but because it was mirroring the ragging emotions taking over its bearer. Ice crackled and popped as head to toe and everything in between this time froze over.

He rocked up, a finger pointed at Sam's face. "Fuck. You." he growled, before turning on his heel and all but storming out.

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_rocket_butt_
2011-01-27 10:23 am UTC (link)

Sam was shaking with the effort of not following Bobby as he stormed away, more because it obviously wasn't going to do him a damned bit of good than any concern for leaving the twins alone.

"Yeah, fuck you too," he whispered, shoulders slumping and chin dropping to his chest as Bobby disappeared through the door. He stood there just long enough to get his shaking mostly under control, then stepped into his boots without lacing them, grabbed his coat from the hook by the door, and headed into the hall. It only took a moment to roust Jay and get him to agree to bunk with the twins for the night, the look on his older brother's face and the low rasp of his voice more than enough to keep him from protesting or asking questions.

He wanted to shout, or break something, or maybe break himself, but none of them were viable options. Instead he stalked through the silent, darkened hallways and out into the night. Sucked in a sharp breath as the crisp cold hit his face and burned his lungs and tried not to think of learning to consider that a comfort.

He was tempted to veer off into the field, power up and burn off rage and pain and fear in the exertion of flight. Couldn't risk it, though. Couldn't burn off energy he might need if things went to hell, which he could never afford to assume they wouldn't. Couldn't even afford to punch the shit out of something the way he wanted to; if he didn't power up he'd potentially hurt himself, take himself off his team for open wounds, and if he did he'd just destroy something that'd end up needing fixing. Using resources they couldn't necessarily spare to cater to his emotional outburst.

Instead he stalked through a new dusting of snow, footsteps dark shadows against the white of it as he made his way to the garage. There was nothing urgent there right now, but there was always something he could do. An engine that wasn't running quite as smooth as it could be, tires to rotate or patch, oil to change. He flipped the lights on and watched his breath fog as he pulled on work gloves and started to assemble his tools.

It wasn't really going to help, he knew himself well enough to know that, but there wasn't a damned thing else he could think of to do. Other than maybe find himself a corner someplace and fall spectacularly apart, and there were too damned many people depending on him for that to be an option.

His hands were still shaking when he finally got to work half an hour later.

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