Neil Donovan is (incharge) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2013-02-01 15:57:00 |
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Entry tags: | gwen stacy, norman osborn |
Who: Neil and Sam
What: Talking out issues. (1/2)
Where: Aria suite.
When: Recently~
Warnings/Rating: None.
Sam considered standing him up. She seriously considered standing him up.
It wasn't even because of Neil's ex. not entirely. It was all of it. The entire fucking mess that she had no idea how to deal with. She couldn't remember a time she'd been straight and sober around Neil since, fuck, since that morning after the hotel with Micah, in the shower, when she'd been a complete mess. She knew, logically, that she'd done it once - been sober around him. That it hadn't mattered once; no big deal. But that seemed like another fucking lifetime. She hadn't wanted him them, maybe. Or it hadn't mattered so much. Or something. And maybe if she didn't feel like shit on top of being clean, it would be easier. She was getting better, yeah, ok, there was that. The pains were finally evening out with the methadone, and the naltrexone had finally stopped completely wrecking her appetite. But she was still a ways from normal, and the last thing she wanted to do was be weak and pathetic around him.
So, yeah, there was that. And then there was the mess with his ex on top of it. She'd scream to the fucking heavens that she didn't give a shit if she was here, didn't give a shit if he was talking to her, didn't give a shit if he'd hidden it from her. But that was all bullshit. Necessary bullshit, but bullshit. And it wasn't that she didn't think Neil cared for her. She got that by this point, but him caring for her as a friend was totally different than... yeah, whatever.
So, she almost stood him up.
But she really wanted to go home, and that's what had made her agree in the end, his use of that word - home. It's what got her out of the studio that afternoon, too, even if the suite wasn't going to be home for much longer.
She showed up at Aria looking worse than she had when she'd left the last time, weeks ago now? She glared at the doorman, daring him to stare, but he didn't, which made her relax slightly. She'd lost a considerable amount of weight, and she really needed a shower and a clean change of fucking clothes, and she knew it. She was hoping she could run her ass into the bathroom before Neil noticed she was there, assuming he was already in the suite.
And, so, she didn't stop to knock, and she didn't call out for him after sticking her key in the slot and pushing open the heavy door. She just let it slam slowly behind her, and she ran up the stairs and slammed the door to the guest room she usually crashed in. The water in the bathroom started a few seconds later and, yeah, that made everything a lot better. She stayed beneath the water stream until it started to go cold, and then she spent a good ten minutes just unknotting her hair and drying it, the heat of the blow dryer a distraction from going to check all her stashes to see if he'd missed any. Because, yeah, she suspected Neil had cleaned her out while she'd been gone - or she hoped he had.
But she didn't want to risk the possibility that he hadn't, so she didn't linger after she had the thought. She dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt that Christine had picked out while in Vegas, intentionally picking the most concealing shit in her closet, even if the jeans were a little low at the hip.
She packed a few things in a backpack - clothes, CDs, things that were nowhere near her regular stashes - and (bag on her shoulder) she left the safety of the room behind.
Neil wasn’t home when Sam showed up, because there had been no booze in the suite, and that was just fucking unacceptable. Yeah, he’d gone through his place with a fine-toothed comb to make sure she wasn’t hoarding any alcohol or drugs, and he’d gotten rid of his stash in the process, which meant his liquor cabinet was glaringly empty, but he couldn’t deal with all this shit sober. Maybe that should have worried him, but he didn’t care. He just didn’t care. Letting Norman go through the door permanently and do what he wanted was starting to sound really, really appealing, because he felt like it was him against the world right then, and he was tired of fighting with family and being lectured like a child. The only one who seemed to actually be on his side was Chloe, which only complicated shit more. But he had a right to be friends with whoever he wanted, right? So maybe he’d fucked up by not telling Sam about her, or her about Sam, but he’d just been trying to figure out the right way without everything exploding in his face.
Which had happened anyway, so fuck all of that. Now he was the big bad asshole, and Sam wanted to leave, and he was pretty sure Louis was equal parts disappointed and disgusted. Just like mom and dad, which wasn’t a new feeling. He could deal with that. Except he couldn’t, so he went out, and he found a shitty little bar open twenty-four hours, and he drank. He drank, and then he crashed in some motel room, and by the time he dragged his sorry ass back to the suite, he was mostly sober. Thanks to a shower and a change of clothes, he didn’t look as terrible as he felt, but there was a hint of redness in his eyes and stubble on his jaw.
The blowdryer was going full-force upstairs when he let himself in, and he felt sick just standing there, listening to the sound and thinking about not hearing it anymore. God, he needed some fucking friends who weren’t wrapped up in this Sam/Chloe drama. No booze meant he couldn’t get a drink, and with no way to distract himself, he went into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water. Yeah, he wished it was vodka, but he’d been so gung-ho about going clean for her, to set an example or some shit. So much for that. If she left, what the hell did it matter? Louis could worry about her, take care of her, and maybe everyone would just leave him alone.
He stood there like an idiot, water in hand, and waited until she came down the stairs. And then, because he had no idea what the fuck to say, Louis’ words running through his head too quickly for him to catch them, he went with something simple. “Hey.”
She wasn't sure what she was expecting, but hey wasn't it. Though, yeah, not surprised. She and Neil could be the definition of awkward, even when shit wasn't all fucked up, and shit was currently really fucked up. She had no idea that Lou had talked to him, no idea that any of her drunken bullshit from the night before had been passed on to him. Maybe she should have realized it, but she didn't. Her fingers tightened on the railing on the last stair step, and she stared for a few seconds, which only made her feel like more of an idiot. She'd never been the kind of girl to moon over someone, and she really wished she could go back to just not giving a shit; it was so much easier. But no, here she was, and here he was, and she wanted to pop a pill so badly that she could scream.
She hopped down off the bottom step, and she let the bag fall loudly on the floor there, not really having the fucking energy to carry it any longer. Instead, she moved past him, a hand skimming his wrist as she kept going and flopped onto the couch, one leg beneath her and her elbow on the backrest. Her eyes weren't as red as his, but they were bloodshot, and her skin had that sweet smell to it that indicated a recent bender. But she was stone-cold sober just then, because fuck if being drunk even lasted long when you puked everything up. She wasn't surprised he'd been drinking. After all, she hadn't expected him to sober up for her. Offering to not keep the shit in the house had been more than she expected in the first place. "Sit the fuck down," she said, but there wasn't any actual anger in the words. After all, he'd never owed her any explanations. Being pissed at Chloe was one thing, and railing at Lou was too, but she wasn't going to nag at him like some fucking wife.
Awkward wasn’t a new thing with them, but god, this was so much worse than anything that had ever happened in the past. It would almost have been a relief, really, if she’d started yelling at him, or even dished out a slap or two. Louis’ words, true as they might have been, stung enough; nothing else could top that. His gaze shifted from her to the bag she’d dropped at the loud sound it made upon making contact with the floor, and yeah, his heart sank. So she was leaving. He wasn’t even going to have a chance to talk her out of it. At least with Louis, he didn’t have to worry about the two of them falling for each other or something like that. No, he’d take care of her, and he wouldn’t drive her to drink or relapse, not like he had. Even if her eyes hadn’t been bloodshot, he could smell it on her, that familiar scent, that indicated she’d probably been spending the last few hours in the same way he had.
“Okay,” he said, simple as that, but the lack of anger in her voice surprised him. Wasn’t she pissed? After a moment of sorting through his confusion, he made his feet move, and sat down next to her, careful to leave what he thought was a safe amount of space between them; for her benefit, not his. “I know I’m an idiot, and I understand if you want to leave and never come back. But me not telling you about Chloe, or telling her about you, it doesn’t mean what you think it does.” Which was a pretty fucking pathetic start, and he almost wished Louis was here to translate; as pissed as he’d been, he got the feeling he could make sense of his motivations, even just a little.
Being blunt and honest wasn't something Sam had trouble doing, as a rule, but fuck if she had an easy time of it when it came to him. She had seen his gaze drop to the bag, so she knew he'd noticed the thing, and she figured it might be a good starting point. Yeah, ok, she could have this conversation. It had been a long fucking time coming anyway, hadn't it? She wasn't surprised that he agreed to come sit with her, because Neil gave in to most of the shit she asked for; it was why they were in this mess, yeah? Because regardless of what he wanted, he gave in when she exerted force, which she'd done for fucking months to stay in this place and keep him at her side.
The amount of space he left between them surprised her, though, and she looked down at it and then quirked a brow. "I'm not fucking contagious, Neil," she managed to fit in, just before he began speaking, but the distance seemed less important a second later, when explaining became the main fucking thing. "That bag can either be for Liam's fucking studio space or I can take it with me to crash somewhere," she explained, and yeah, she could be calm about this shit. Unthinkingly, she tugged at the leather between them on the couch, watching her calloused fingers pluck at the expensive fabric as she spoke. "Here's the fucking thing, Neil. You never promised me anything, and we didn't have any agreement that you broke by not telling me about Chloe being here. You never cared about the people I slept with, so I'm not going to be a hypocritical bitch and get on your ass about her. I never lied to you about anything, because I knew you didn't care. But you decided you needed to lie to me about this shit, which means you thought I was going to freak or something. And that means you figured out I'm into you, and I don't want to be someone you feel sorry for and hide shit from just because you think I'm going to fall off the fucking wagon or something." Which she had, but whatever.
"I know you're not," he said of her being contagious, but it was a reflexive response, without much thought on what he was saying. No, Neil was too focused on her and her words to really be aware of himself, save for a dry throat and throbbing right between his eyes. He didn't say anything about the bag, because quite fucking frankly he didn't want to acknowledge its existence at all, and he was quiet while she spoke, not interrupting, even though he considered it once or twice. Then, it was his turn, and god, he had so little faith in his ability to not fuck this up.
"I cared. That's not true. I did. I wanted to kick Daniel's ass more times than I can count," he said, and maybe it was his hangover, but the words came out easily, albeit a little rough around the edges. "I just never said anything. Figured there was no use in making an idiot out of myself when you weren't interested." He shook his head, at nothing in particular, really, more of a general disagreement. "I didn't tell you because I thought you'd assume we'd pick up where we left off, and then you'd leave. And I didn't tell her about you because I don't know what the fuck we are. I don't feel sorry for you." He looked at her, because she obviously had fallen off the wagon, but so had he, in a manner of speaking. "Are you into me? Because I'm shit at caring, and even worse about saying it when I do, and I always thought you just-- we're fucking, that's what you told her," he said, as though that explained everything.
Yeah, so he agreed that she wasn't contagious, but he didn't move any closer, so Sam wasn't sure if it was actually true or not. And she knew she looked like shit, even cleaned up. She hadn't fallen prey to how drugs fucked people up yet, luckily, but the lost weight and the dark circles really weren't attractive. She huffed a little laugh, trying to imagine what the fuck Chloe looked like. Perfect, probably.
"I know you care. I mean care like-" she began, talking over him for a second, not having the self control he did to keep her mouth shut. "You wanted to kick Daniel's ass like Lou would," she said, though she knew he hated the fucking brother comparison, but it was the only one she had just then. "Anyway, that's not the point. Daniel's just some guy I fucked twice, and the second time I didn't even mean to." She finally did shut up once he started explaining why he hadn't mentioned Chloe, and fuck if she could tell whether to believe him or not. She was trying to figure it out when he mentioned what Chloe had said, and that just made her laugh a bitter laugh and shake her head. "She is such a fucking bitch, Neil. Seriously. I'm a bitch, and even I think this woman's a cow," she explained, not thinking that it might be a bad thing to say around him. Thinking wasn't really a big thing with her recently, not when her brain always felt like it was wrapped in cotton. "She mocked me about how precious I must be for you not to fucking mention me to her, not to mention you were involved, or whatever. So I told her we were fucking to save face," she admitted, giving the leather on the sofa one good last tug before pushing herself off the fucking thing entirely and wandering over to the long panel of windows that looked out on the city. "Yeah, I'm into you," she admitted, without looking back over her shoulder.
Goddamn, was he getting tired of being compared to Louis. It had nothing to do with resentment, or jealousy; no, Neil was just frustrated with his overall inability to convince her that how he cared and how Lou cared were not the same. But he’d never been able to do that, had he? Maybe, no matter what anyone told him, he couldn’t. It was like there was a wall between them, and even if it was established that he and Sam had some sort of fucking feelings for each other, nothing could break it down. “No, not like Lou would,” he said, unable to think of anything else to say. “Daniel’s not just some guy you fucked twice to me. I get it, I do, being with someone without caring, but fuck, it’s hard when you’re on the other end.” Which might not have made sense, and maybe it was even hypocritical, because yeah, he’d been with women over the years without having feelings for them. He’d just forgotten how much it hurt to be on the other end.
Chloe was, and always had been, a touchy subject. Everyone around him could tell him the same damn thing, that she was a bitch, that she was rude, blah blah blah, but he had blinders on when it came to her. Sure, he could be angry and spiteful when she wasn’t around, but when she was, Neil just couldn’t bring himself to insult her. Feelings or not, she’d always have some sort of hold over him, one he didn’t know how to rid himself of. “I know she can be difficult,” he managed. “It’s just-- it’s fucking hard, okay? I never saw that side of her, and even when I did, it was never directed towards me. It was different. I don’t want to get back with her, and I’m not in love with her anymore, but I can’t tell her to go fuck herself, and you and Lou ripping her to shreds--” He cut himself and shook his head, because he couldn’t really explain it. Maybe it was some sort of defensiveness, the same he’d show for Lou and Casey, and even Sam, no matter what they did, or how they behaved. He rubbed his hands together, frowning when she said Chloe had mocked her. “She did?” He didn’t know what to say, so he just sat there while she admitted that she’d lied to save face, and that yeah, she was into him. Huh. All this time, and he’d been so sure it didn’t mean for her what it meant for him.
“I’m into you too.” That came after a long stretch of silence, and he struggled to his feet, still a little off-kilter from the night before. He took a few steps forward, enough to close some of the distance between them without actually reaching her side. “I know I have a shitty way of showing it,” he added, “but I never thought you felt the same.”
"If it's not like Lou, then what's it like, Neil?" she asked bluntly. Sam sucked at this, yeah, but even she realized she might suck less at it than Neil did. The comment about Daniel got her slightly riled up, though, and she forgot that he sucked at this kind of conversation, and she forgot that she was being gentle about this shit, to keep from embarrassing him. "You don't get to be pissed off about Daniel when you don't want anything more than what we have, Neil," she said. Which wasn't strictly true, but it felt like the right thing to say just then. And fuck, she was tipping her fucking cards more than she meant to, but she wasn't exactly at her best. Walking to the window helped, the distance helped. Because she was pretty sure he'd just tense up if she reached out to touch him, like he had in the woods. She had no idea when that had started, but she didn't know how to fix it either.
"Me and Lou ripping her to shreds?" she asked, and she was too fucking calm. Maybe he didn't know her well enough to know that was a bad fucking sign, but it was. "Right, because she didn't rip into my ass first? She didn't send me some fucking etiquette book first for Christmas? She didn't go after me in that post first? Yeah, I ripped into her. Sure, Neil. And sorry, but I'm not going to be a one-chick cheering squad for someone who hurt you," she said, and fuck if she was going to cry in front of him. She wanted to, but fuck if she was going to. Even his lack of response for the fact that Chloe had mocked her felt like a knife. Maybe she was more emotional than she normally was, more likely to feel small hurts, but there wasn't anything she could do about it. "Yeah, Neil, she did," she finally managed, a small shake of her head as she looked back out the window. "Whatever. It doesn't matter, right? All that matters is that Lou and I ripped into her."
She didn't turn around when he said he was into her to. She'd wanted to hear him say that for the better part of a year, but after the Chloe thing, she wasn't even sure he knew what he was talking about. She tried to watch over her shoulder as he took those steps, the ones she could hear, but she couldn't make him out, and she ended up just looking out the window instead. "You're a fucking idiot," she muttered, a tearful chiding, and she wasn't going to fucking cry, she wasn't. "Why don't you tell me what you want?" she finally asked, turning to look at him, all red eyes and splotchy face. If someone was going to close that distance, it was going to have to be him.
Neil was pretty sure his response had something to do with jealousy. Right. Lou, he wouldn’t get jealous, and if he wanted to kick Daniel’s ass, it would be out of some protective brotherly need as opposed to any other explanation. He began to say as much, but then she was telling him he didn’t get to be pissed off, which frustrated him, and he shook his head hard enough to make the room spin. Fuck. “You assume I don’t want more,” he protested, bringing a hand to his forehead and rubbing his temples. “Why the fuck would I get jealous if I was fine with what we had going, huh? I hate hearing about Daniel, every damn time you mention him.” And maybe that was more than he’d intended to say, but it was all coming out now, and why the hell not? No use in keeping anything back, and besides, it would only prolong the inevitable.
Too late he realized that he’d screwed up, that wording it the way he had, them ripping into Chloe, had been a very bad idea. He was trying, and failing, to remain neutral, refraining from defending or condemning one over the other. “Listen, that came out wrong,” he admitted, and her calmness didn’t really register enough to set off any alarm bells. “I’m not saying the way she talked to you was right, or okay. But Lou’s already told me what he thinks of her, and you have too, and I get it. She left me. She’s a heartless, condescending bitch. Just-- fuck,” he cursed, because he didn’t know how to explain himself without making it seem like he was siding with Chloe over her. “You ever known someone that everyone else hated, but you saw a different side of them? I don’t want to be caught in the middle. I’ll tell her to leave you alone. She gets it now, that we’re-- that I-- she just knows, okay?” And, honestly, he believed that. As for it not mattering, he couldn’t leave it like that, and Neil took another step forward, as though gathering the nerve to make it all the way. “No, it matters. Don’t do that,” he insisted. “It matters.”
He wasn’t good with tears. At all. So when she turned to face him, red-eyed and splotchy, he had no idea what the fuck to do. “Yeah, I am,” he said reflexively, agreeing that he was an idiot, because, well, it was true. And there it was, the million-dollar question, and Neil really wished he was drunk. But at the same time, he was glad he wasn’t, because it wouldn’t mean nearly as much that way. “I want...” God, he was so fucking pathetic. No, he could do this. Finally, he managed to close the distance, only a breath of space between them. “I want you.” Three little words, and they were probably the hardest ones he’d ever said.
Whoa, hold up. Neil had never mentioned jealousy before, and she just stared for a few seconds. She should have said something, but fuck if she could remember anything to say just then. She was quiet longer than she normally would have been, but she finally shook her head. "There's nothing to be jealous about. Seriously, Neil. I only fucked Daniel because-" A pause, because how did she even explain that shit? "The first time was after Micah, and I wasn't sure I could- I kept freaking the fuck out whenever anyone so much as jostled me, and I wanted to see if I could. He was there, I was drunk, and I didn't care if I freaked out and called the whole thing off, because, yeah. The next time, I wasn't really counting on it. Fuck, I know that's a shit explanation, but he's a friend, a fucked up drunk friend, but that's it. He's still in love with Christine or something, and I'm all he has left of her, so he gives a shit on occasion." She paused again, because none of that really explained it. Fuck it. "He knows about you, ok?" Which was, in her mind, ringing fucking endorsement for her feelings.
But listening to him defend Chloe was hard, and it was enough to make her lose focus for a second. "Wait. Hold up. I didn't even know Chloe was your ex. I hated her on her own fucking merit, thanks. I wouldn't put her out if she was on fire, and now that I know who she is, I would just as soon light the match, Neil." Because she wasn't shy about her opinions, and Chloe wasn't someone she wanted anything to fucking do with. "Yeah, sure, you don't have to get caught in the middle," she said, and it was obvious she didn't understand. Sam tended to be fiercely protective of her friends, and she would have ripped Chloe a new asshole for treating anyone she liked the way Chloe had treated her, but whatever. Chloe didn't matter, because she wouldn't let Chloe fucking matter.
She almost laughed when he agreed he was an idiot, and she leaned back against the windows at her back, feeling a hint of the old thrill of falling through all the drugs clouding her mind lately. She raised a brow when he started with that I want, a honeyed arch, because she knew Neil wasn't good at any of this. But she didn't fucking care just then. They'd been playing this game for almost a year now, and if she was ready to admit what she wanted out of this shit, then he was going to have to be ready too. She was expecting words, though, some explanation about why he wasn't into her. She wasn't expecting him to come so close she could feel him breathe. "Yeah?" she asked inarticulately, confusion written clearly across her features. She looked her age then, not even old enough to rent a fucking car and so out of her depth. "You never fucking said anything," she said, her mind still trying to catch up. Her fingers had gotten the memo, though, because they were clutched tight in the front of his shirt, pulling him closer, even though that was nearly impossible.
The first time, okay, maybe he could explain that one away. He knew how’d she’d been after that asshole Micah, jumpy and skittish and wary of getting too close, but there was still a strange sort of ache in the pit of his stomach when he thought about how Daniel had been the one to make that better for her. She’d gone to him, and they’d fucked, and that was that. Obviously Daniel’d had something he lacked. A part of him registered that she said she hadn’t cared if he’d freaked out, which reminded him of that time in the bathroom, but it didn’t make him feel much better. “Yeah, okay,” he said. There wasn’t much he could say at this point, was there? She’d slept with Daniel twice, and even if he didn’t get why or how the second time had happened, he couldn’t change it. Daniel using her as a replacement for Christine just made him wonder why she was putting up with that shit in the first place, especially if he was just a friend. But yeah, whatever, he was in no position to whine about it. “What does he know about me?” He wasn’t all that sure she’d spill her guts to him, and all she’d told Chloe was that they were fucking.
He just stood there, because he didn’t know what to say, not then. Sam hated Chloe. Chloe probably wasn’t a fan of Sam’s either. And, of course, he had to care about both of them, albeit in different ways. “You don’t have to like her. Louis doesn’t either. She’ll leave you alone from now on,” he added. “I know you two will never be friends, but if she can’t be civil, then she needs to back off.” What went unsaid was that the same applied to her; he didn’t want either of them going off on each other, but at least he was self-aware enough to realize that he needed to draw the line somewhere before he drove her off again. Right then, though, he honestly didn’t think Chloe was going to plunge them all into some crazy love triangle. They were just friends, and yeah, maybe if Sam wasn’t around, things might have been different, but she was, and so they weren’t.
When he opened his mouth to respond, to explain why he hadn’t said anything, Neil had no intention of laughing. But one came out anyway, and it surprised him, which just made him laugh again, and his arms wound around her waist. “Shit, it’s not funny,” he managed, trying to quell the sound, but he was still grinning, and he couldn’t help that. “I just-- I never fucking said anything because I was scared. Pathetic, right? I was scared of making an idiot out of myself, scared that I’d drive you off because you didn’t feel the same. I figured, I don’t know, that if this was all you wanted, I could deal,” he shrugged. “Take what I could get, instead of screwing things up.” And even now, knowing she felt the same, it seemed like it was too good to be true. Shit like this never lasted for him, and either he’d find a way to fuck it up, or something else would.
She considered what to tell him about what Daniel knew, but she didn't think on it very long or very hard. Daniel had more fucking problems than she could even hope to explain, and it didn't actually matter in the end. "He knows I'm into you," she said honestly. "And that you aren't in to me," she added a little sheepishly, which was strange for her. She wasn't the most sheepish of people, so, yeah, she was a little embarrassed to have to admit that part. "Like I said, it doesn't matter." And for her, it didn't. She'd had sex with her husband for six years without giving a shit about him. She'd only had sex with Neil twice, and she was all twisted up inside when it came to him. She wasn't naive, and she hadn't ever been, so she didn't associate hooking up with anything more than hooking up.
She just looked back at him when he started talking about Chloe. She'd grown up around catty bitches, street kids and gangbangers. Yeah, she knew better than to make Chloe a victim, even if her brain felt like it was wrapped in layers of cotton. Sure, she was slower than she would have been normally, but Mean Girls was a away of life for her. Chloe might have him convinced there was an angel in there somewhere, but Sam wasn't falling for it. "I don't care about Chloe, Neil," she said, and it was true, in a roundabout way. "She doesn't fucking matter. Even if you fuck her, it doesn't matter, not if you're not in love with her anymore." Because she knew Neil. He was a weak sonofabitch, and Chloe could probably wrap him right around her little finger. Better to be prepared for that reality and come out on top. And while her speech was a good one, the desperation in the fingers that clutched at his shirt and pressed against his chest belied the fact that maybe she was full of shit, but she didn't expect Neil to see it.
His laughter surprised her, but not in a bad way. They'd never been overly serious, and god there had been too much fucking serious lately. And his grin was adorable, and it was somehow enough to make everything else go away for a minute. "It's not all I want," she said, and it was bold and brave sounding for a moment, before she laughed herself, her forehead pressed against his chest and her tangle-mussed blonde hair falling against her cheeks and her hands sliding up and down along his sides. "Fuck, I can't believe I actually said that shit," she admitted, still looking down at the space between their feet. "Yeah, so, I've never actually done this," she admitted. He had; she hadn't. Not actually giving a damn, and not- what? Maybe she should've asked what it was, because I want you wasn't exactly a guidebook or anything. But it was more than roommates, right? And she'd take that right now. She glanced over her shoulder, at the glass at her back, and then she leaned down and undid the panel lock and slid the window open, climbing out on the flimsy escape. "Come here," she said, once she was out there, who knew how many fucking stories up and nothing below. It was a tiny, thin rickety and crowded thing, and she leaned back against the corner and waited. Old times. It felt like old times. And, fuck, but it had been forever since that had happened.
Oh, fucking great. So Daniel the asshole thought he was the asshole, leading her on, but after a moment or two Neil realized he didn’t give a damn what Daniel thought, or at least, he wasn’t going to let anyone--namely Sam--think he did. “Right,” he echoed. “It doesn’t matter.” And maybe he didn’t fully believe that, but he wanted it to be true, and that had to count for something, right?
He liked hearing that she didn’t care about Chloe, because that meant less conflict, but fucking her had come out of nowhere, and he felt like he needed to make it damn clear that wasn’t ever going to happen. “Hey, I’m not going to fuck her, okay? We’re just friends, if anything. That’s it,” he said. “Strictly platonic friends who don’t fuck.” Not like her and Daniel, he thought, but he kept that to himself, thank you very much. Okay, so maybe he had a soft spot when it came to his ex, but that didn’t mean he was going to let himself be coaxed into her bed. He liked to think he had more self-control than that. The desperation in the way she clutched at his shirt confused him, mostly because he didn’t realize that she actually feared them sleeping together as much as she did. He tipped his head to the side and held her closer, figuring that might help, maybe.
It had been a long, long time since he’d cared this much about someone wanting him, never mind him wanting them in return, and somehow it didn’t feel real, even though she was right fucking there and the rational part of his mind told him this wasn’t something he was imagining. “Yeah, neither can I,” he admitted, which applied to both her and himself, really, since they’d both said things he hadn’t ever expected to hear out loud. As for never having done this before, though, at least he had somewhat of an upper hand there. He was a little rusty, granted, but not entirely inexperienced. “So what? We can do it our way, and fuck how other people do it, or what anyone else thinks,” he said. Somehow he didn’t see her as the labelling type, to walk around referring to him as her boyfriend, but hell, if she wanted that, he wouldn’t be adverse to it. Calling her his girlfriend might take some getting used to, but not in a bad way. Climbing out onto the shitty fire escape had never been high on his list of things he wanted to do, but right then telling her no wasn’t even a fucking option, so of course he followed, even if he made a conscious effort to avoid looking down and tried not to move too much, lest they go plunging down towards the sidewalk. “I don’t think this thing was built for people,” he remarked, but he managed another grin, and maybe the lack of space wasn’t so bad, not when they were forced to be as close as they were.