francisco javier es una (pesadilla) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2013-02-13 17:57:00 |
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Sam wasn't sure how she'd managed to make a small witty friend. As a rule, she stayed the fuck away from small, witty people. They made her feel big and dumb, but fuck if she hadn't managed it somehow. Might as well make the best of it now, yeah? Yeah. Her appointment with Zee was still days off, and she could tell Lin wanted to talk about his not-a-love-match with Daniel, and she wasn't working or anything. Well, not on anything that would make her money, so why the fuck not invite the kid over? Liam was off being Liam somewhere, and Neil was at work, and she had the place to herself. After texting Lin, she rented the stupid fucking boat movie on the Apple TV that came with the 84-inch LCD on the living room wall. She left all her welding supplies on the living room floor, a MIG, multiple torches and piles of different metals, all spread out on a disgustingly expensive down comforter, and she ran upstairs to put on something more substantial than a pair of underwear and one of Neil's work shirts. The casino was crowded, but the doorman that required names or key for the suite elevators knew to let "Lin the Brat" up, and the door was propped with one of Sam's work boots, since she hated running down the fucking stairs in a hurry. She was on a lower dose of meds now, and it made her brain a little slower than normal, and her feet had trouble catching up. But she was strangely more lucid too and, yeah, so she'd tapered down herself (fuck shrinks), which meant she was dealing with more cravings than normal. Company would be good, even if it meant watching something cheesy. She turned down the opera that constantly blared in the suite, and she found a pair of boxers to pair with the $400 Armani shirt, and she began to work her long hair into a loose braid as she waited. Lin the Brat shifted restlessly on his feet as the elevator ascended. He wasn't at the top of his game, that much was obvious. He shook his head at himself - at the loss of an opportunity to make fun of someone. The little joke of a name had earned the smiling doorman a loooong, dark look and nothing more. The fact that he was wearing fairly normal clothing - nothing bedecked with cats or made up of colors that caused optical bleeding - just a navy t-shirt paired with a cardigan, gray slacks, and an unamused expression, ought to have been an indicator to anyone that knew the boy even the slightest bit that he was just not in the mood. Daniel was to blame. Lin's (poorly concealed) displeasure at what had happened between himself and the man had actually managed to puncture his usually buoyant mood - to shrink him back down into the small boy he was, the one that hid underneath the larger-than-life personality and worried about every little thing. He hadn’t felt so glum in a long-ass time. And the implications that arose because of that -- well, he didn’t want to think about them. It was just fucking stupid. Daniel was stupid. And he could go fuck himself, since, apparently, that was how he liked it. Still, he was visiting Sam, not Daniel. The boy tried his best to paste a smile over his pouty frown as he approached the door held open by... a boot. Cool. Adjusting the strap of his messenger bag, Lin stepped inside the - uh - apartment. It was gigantic. It was... dare I say? - titanic. And where Daniel's place had been as dark and cold as his heart, this room was full of rich colors with windows that spanned the entire length of the wall - disappearing into whatever other rooms spawned off of this one. The furniture was all sharp corners and clean lines. There ...were all kinds of metal bits and things scattered around. A huge, gold ribbon of a staircase wound upward from the living room and Lin just kind of stared at it. The soft sounds of opera played from somewhere. Jesus. Fucking rich people were weird as hell. "Sam the Ass," he called out tentatively, careful not to touch anything for fear that he might break it and then have to spend the rest of his life paying for it. Lin hadn’t pegged the girl as - you know, wealthy as fuck, the camo skirt and all, but no one could stay in a place like this who wasn’t. "I come bearing outdated posters of heartthrobs." Sam came down the stairs two at a time, and she rolled her eyes when she saw Lin standing there, looking like he was afraid that everything was made of fucking china. "Calm the fuck down. If I haven't broken anything, then you won't manage it either," she told him with certainty. "You can even fuck against the windows without the glass breaking," she added, gap-toothed smirk and a very intentional goal to tease. And, yeah, so he looked like the twinkiest little hipster she'd ever seen, but that was good. It was harmless, and harmless was even better than good. Even drunk, Daniel came across as a predator, but Lin looked like he hadn't ever made an entrance that came with the Jaws theme song and, yeah, definitely good. It wasn't that she was still weird around men, but the come down of the pills was making her a little twitchy. "Seriously, where do you even get cute little boy cardigans like that?" she asked, landing on the main floor with a stomp of bare feet. "There's stuff in the fridge," she added, jerking a thumb back toward the opulent kitchen that was never, ever used. "Nothing alcoholic, but lots of other shit, and candy." Yeah, no, they ordered out all the fucking time. "We can get some room service if you're hungry," she added, flopping easily on the couch, after navigating the pieces of metal strewn on the floor. "So, show me the Leo." Because she'd never seen his boat movie, but come on; she knew who Leonardo DiCaprio was. Barefoot, in boxers and a very expensive looking men’s shirt, Sam hopped down the stairs toward him. Lin smiled at her and her braid and her skinny legs. He circled the staircase to meet her at the bottom, only looking away once to glance at the windows. It would probably be pretty fun to get fucked against a window this many stories above the world. Not that one would have much interest in taking in the view, so to speak, and so long as it didn't break. That would definitely ruin the moment. The boy made his eyes wide in mock shock, then shook his head at the girl. With narrowed eyes and a hope that she would understand he wasn’t serious, he said: "Whoa, Sam. Don’t make me turn into an asshole and berate you for bringing up sex, okay?" Lin picked his way to the sofa on his host's heels (with an internal note to remember to ask her about all the stuff on the ground) and sat heavily beside her, tossing his bag to the side. "I'll only tell you, if you divulge your own fashion secret," he replied in a voice that was much brighter than he felt. Then he sighed because he was annoying himself. Lin was slumped on the couch and had to sit up a bit to reach his bag, but he did it, returning to his former position immediately. He rifled through the thing for a few seconds before pulling out his poster. It was actually his from the 90s, as evidenced by the wear along its edges and the creases that quartered it. He unfolded it and held it open with a grin. "Say hello to my husband." "Sorry, baby, are we keeping it PG? You were the one going on about your boat-car sex scene," she reminded him, and her gap-toothed grin said that, yeah, she wasn't taking anything very seriously just then. She'd already hit the things about Lin that made her feel self-conscious, namely his intelligence, and she didn't mind it so much if it wasn't hooked up with Daniel's intelligence and coalescing to make her feel seriously fucking stupid. So, yeah, nothing serious here, and she watched him join her on the couch with curiosity. Because, sure, she wanted to hear about the Daniel shit. She knew Lin wanted to talk about it, too, or he wouldn't be sitting there. And Sam? Sam wasn't shy about bringing shit up. But she spared time for an honest laugh when he mentioned fashion secrets. "My boyfriend's closet," she replied, even though she and Neil had decided against the label thing, but what Neil didn't know wouldn't hurt him, right? And it was easier than explaining their relationship to people, seeing as they were the poster children for Facebook's "Complicated" status. "Please tell me the sweater didn't come from Daniel's closet," she teased, easing into the topic without easing at all. And, yeah, Daniel wouldn't be caught dead in that fucking sweater. She was turning on the movie when he unfolded the poster, because fuck, the boy had an actually fucking poster. She laughed. Oh, god, she couldn't fucking help it. "You're such a dork, and he's too fucking young, and too fucking blond," she said of Leo, poking poster!Leo's highlights with her fingertip. "He needs to be about twenty years older, baby, with some grey at the temples." He slid lower on the couch until he was hardly sitting up at all, and was busy smoothing the fabric of the aforementioned cardigan, (taking particular note of Sam’s use of ‘boyfriend’; she hadn’t used it earlier), when she made her little joke. Lin gave her the same look he’d given the doorman. It was one that said, ‘don’t do that. Just don’t do that,’ and he said nothing more about it. A smile did return to his lips when she laughed at the poster, however, because she sounded so genuinely amused. Her gap-toothed grin was pretty adorable, too. Lin snapped the poster closed on her hand as she smudged it up with her fingerprints, then raised it warningly, as if threatening to smack her hands away if she tried to manhandle it again. His brows peaked in an expression of outright indignation. "Girl, you need to watch yourself. I don’t know if you heard me when I said he was my husband, but he is. And, gross, I don’t want him to be old. Well, he already is old. - Still. And don’t make me feel bad for having this. I know he’s little, but I was like, thirteen, okay? I’m not that creepy." Lin prattled on with his usual gusto, flicking his eyes to the gigantic TV as the movie began. "Look, dude -" He pointed at the sepia tinted shot of hundreds of people on the deck of the ship waving. Lin inched up on the sofa. "It’s starting." She rolled her eyes at the defense of his "Leo thing," and she threatened to grab his poster and (gasp!) wrinkle it. "Hey, my husband's in New Jersey. He's all yours, if you want him," she said, and it wasn't all tease, but there was enough of it there to make it obvious she didn't really have any baggage about the man in question. As for the movie starting, that got another eyeroll. "Dude, is this one of those movies we can't talk during?" she asked, copying his archaic little word and then tucking her feet up beneath her on the couch. Yeah, the boat was big and impressive, and the people were wearing old clothes, but that wasn't as interesting as the drama around the bastard in Turnberry. But she tried. She was quiet for a full ten minutes, before she turned to the twink at her side. "Yeah, so, are you into him?" she asked, and there was a bit of bitter pill in the question. She blamed it on the med dose down, on her own currently fucked up relationship with Daniel, and on the fucking blues that came and went like the breeze lately. "Oh, shut the fuck up." Now it was Lin’s turn to roll his eyes. He did so theatrically as he was mocked. (Though the bit about a husband was tucked alongside the ‘boyfriend’ information in the back of his brain..) He lightly slapped the girl's shoulder with Leo, before tucking him back into the safety of the messenger bag, and moving his eyes back to the TV. He really did like this movie. Lin kicked his feet idly as he watched. He only glanced away to say, "You can talk. You’ll miss all the good shit, but you can talk." Despite his "permission", ten minutes passed and all was quiet. Lin was fully engrossed in the matters at hand - like, Leo’s hair looking excellent, and his adorable pout, and the ship and stuff. Then he felt Sam turn toward him. Curious, he moved to face her with a quizzical expression. It quickly fell flat. ‘Yeah, so, are you into him?’ Not subtle, no. But, she certainly didn’t beat around the bush, the last ten minutes aside. Lin gazed steadily at the girl for nearly thirty seconds as he considered her question - and her tone. Was he into Daniel? No. He didn’t think so. Right? ...Was he? ...The kissing had been nice for the whole five seconds it'd lasted and the man was undeniably good looking and intelligent and he could be entertaining on the journals, but he was also a douchebag the size of China with some obvious emotional issues, likely also the size of some large country. And he was straight. And there was that whole pushing Lin off of him and onto the ground and demanding he leave thing. But, you know, for a minute there, the boy really had thought that - maybe Daniel had... - no, it was stupid. He was stupid. -- He'd had had crushes on straight guys before. Nary a one had ended well for him. "I... don’t know," he finally said, somewhat lamely, with a helpless shrug. A frown creased between his brows. He paused and bit his bottom lip. Something exciting was happening on screen and the rapidly changing light painted Sam's face a dance of ghostly white. "Are you?" Sam had never been big on movies, and Leo's perfect hair didn't do it for her. Winslet's tits didn't do it for her either, and there wasn't even any touching (much less any sex), and movies about feelings made Sam squirm. And, yeah, ok, so she was all bluster, and way too much soft under the surface, but that wasn't immediately evident, and it sure didn't translate into getting weepy about sinking boats and doomed romances. No, Sam liked life and thrills and real shit, no matter how messy it got, and so the subject of Daniel was infinitely more interesting to her. She watched Lin's face as he tried to articulate whatever was going on in his mind, and she felt a smug moment of pleasure in the fact that, yeah, even the smart hipster kid had trouble with some shit. In the end, his uncertain response didn't surprise Sam at all. To say Daniel could be confusing was an understatement, and she'd already realized there was more going on with Lin and the recluse than just words on paper. Daniel wouldn't have flipped his shit the way he did otherwise. Once Sam got over being butthurt about it, she could recognize fear in retreat. Daniel was freaked, and he was trying to shove Lin away as much as he could, which meant that Lin already managed to burrow his fucking way beneath the boozer's skin. Yeah, movies and books? Sam wasn't so good at those, bit this living shit? This living shit she was good at. "I was already seriously into someone else before I met Daniel, which saved me a whole lot of fucking heartache," she said honestly. Daniel was exactly the kind of fucker she normally liked, and she would have ended up squished if it wasn't for Neil, and she realized that. "You're not me. He likes you more than he ever liked me. He wouldn't have shoved you away otherwise," she said, an expert in all things Daniel. The smart hipster kid often had trouble - with a lot of shit, Sam would be glad to know. One specific issue that continued to crop up, year after year after year, was his seeming inability to understand what made a friendship a friendship and what made a friendship something different altogether, be it the inclusion of sex or just an emotionally damaging arrangement. It also meant he lacked the necessary boundaries and walls - the protection - to know how to navigate the messier side of personal interaction and survive it - you know, without ending up in the hospital. But, oh, he tried. It was an unfortunate problem, one that he was sure he was doomed to carry until the day he finally keeled over. Lin shifted on the sofa, pulling his legs up onto the cushion between himself and the girl as he turned toward her, sitting much like he had at Daniel’s. Titanic was momentarily forgotten. He looped his arms around his knees and propped his chin there. With doleful eyes, he gazed up at Sam, listening intently as she spoke. 'Already into someone else' sounded an awful lot like 'I would've liked him, had X not been there.' It was hardly comforting to hear. Lin sighed. "Girl, you weren't even there," he replied, raising his eyebrows, clearly exasperated. Releasing his knees, he drew a finger across his throat for emphasis as he continued. "I seriously thought he was going to snap and slit my throat with the Titanic DVD before he beat me to death with his 2002 edition of Encyclopedia Britannica: M. I'm not even exaggerating." He was exaggerating. But, that moment, with him on the floor and Daniel glaring down at him from the couch with black eyes had actually been kinda, bonafide terrifying. And infuriating. And fucking embarrassing. God, what an asshole. Lin put a hand over his face. She rolled her eyes, but it was hard to be a bitch to a kicked puppy dog, and Lin looked like a kicked puppy dog just then, and Sam was only a surface-level bitch, with a squishy fucking center that she hated. Yeah, she was like one of those fucking Gushers. Bottom line, even she wasn't immune to knee hugging and doleful eyes, and she gave Lin an honest look, all serious knowledge and maturity from the twenty-two year old recovering addict, who clearly knew how to make some seriously awesome life choices. "Baby, I'm telling you, the more he cares, the harder he tries to run you off. I forget and get fucking butthurt all the time, and then I remember why he does it. It's like his version of a skunk's stink or something. It's supposed to keep him safe. If he didn't give a shit about you, you'd be naked in his fucking bed right now." Yeah, she didn't give the whole sexuality thing much thought, because she straddled the fence herself. "But, Lin, listen. He's not an easy fucker. He's going to keep shoving you off the couch, because that shit scares him," she explained, and she wondered when she'd learned to translate Daniel douchery so well, because she was absolutely fucking sure she was right. She glanced toward the screen. "It's never that fucking easy. Now who's the guy you're seeing?" There was nothing to be done about it. Lin laughed. Sam’s face was so solemn and her tone so sincere, he couldn’t help himself. It was nothing loud or obnoxious, just a brief, delighted fit of giggling. (Yes. He giggled. He was a giggler.) He could only wave a hand at the girl and hope she understood he wasn’t laughing at her. It was just -- well, first she’d said "fucking butthurt" and then she’d said "in his fucking bed," all without a trace of sarcasm (like, what? He had a separate one for fucking?), and it was all he could do to not make a crack about either. He pressed his lips together to keep himself from making any other sounds and stared at the TV vaguely for a moment to will himself back into the mood of the conversation. (There was another issue of Lin’s, actually, if we’re going to start listing them and all. He had a hard time not reacting to sincerity with inappropriate humor. Who’dathunkit.) Most of her words he didn’t want to consider. What if she was right? What happened then? "Do you realize how ridiculous this is?" He asked upon finally regaining his composure, saying not one word about Aubrey. That was too much to think about. With his eyes closed, Lin leaned his side against the back of the couch, knees still gathered in his arms. "I met him once. For like, half an hour. I’ve talked to him maybe twenty times ever. Do you get what I’m saying? - That it’s fucking ridiculous? Like, am I the lead in a bad romantic comedy about getting the bad guy to go good/change his ways? Am I Kate Hudson? I don’t even know anymore. That’s how ridiculous it is." She wasn't surprised he was a giggler, and she really didn't like that expression on his face, like he knew something she didn't based on brains alone. Seriously, she was going to have to enforce a smartness cut-off or something, because this sobering up bullshit clearly made her susceptible to stupid crap. She watched his obvious attempt at movie concentration, and she figured he would talk eventually. She'd already figured out that sitting still and shutting up weren't high on his list of skills. And, yeah, there he went. "What does that even mean?" she asked him, because who the fuck was Kate Hudson? The woman in the movie wasn't Kate Hudson, was she? She glanced at the screen for a second, and she waited for Leo to wail Winslet's name plaintively. Yeah, no, not Kate Hudson. "I was asking about the guy you're dating, but if you want to keep talking about Daniel, that's cool too," she said intentionally, giving him an inky blue look that said he'd walked right the fuck into that one. Lin’s eyes opened. He met Sam’s gaze, understood the meaning behind it, and all traces of humor vanished from his face. He opened his mouth. Then closed it. God, these past couple days had seen him gaping like a fish far more often than he was comfortable with. He was supposed to always have something at the ready. That was like, his schtick. What had happened to him? Without that, he was nothing more than an adorable, yet sadly deflated balloon. Dumb. Frustrated, the boy pushed himself upright once again. He needed to stop stalling. "It means you can’t like someone you don’t know as much more than slanted handwriting and biting remarks," said Lin matter-of-factly, not really believing anything he was saying. He found if you spoke with conviction, people were more apt to swallow your words without question. He fidgeted distractedly with the rings on his right hand, perhaps betraying the confidence in his voice. There was another long pause. He glanced at Sam. "And I’m not dating anyone. Aubrey is my ex-boyfriend." It was mostly the truth. A beat, a guilty look. "- And I cheated on him, so I don’t really know if anything will ever happen there that isn’t somehow fucked up." It was like Morse Code. Start, stop, start, stop. He couldn’t shut himself up on a good day. Lin didn’t wait for Sam to react. "What I don’t understand is - I know Daniel is your friend and all, but why is this so important to you? No offense or anything." S.O.S. He chattered on without so much as taking a breath. "You know what I need? A motherfuckin’ Companion Cube." "Bullshit," she replied, before he'd even managed to finish his sentence about not liking someone based on handwriting and remarks. "That is such bullshit. I met Neil on a stupid fucking forum, and then I met him in person. Same thing that happened with you and Daniel." Case closed, and she watched him fidget with the rings on his fingers (total hipster, because only hipster guys wore rings) and, yeah, he was totally fucked up about this. Poor kid. She wasn't sure that being fucked up over Daniel was a good idea, and maybe she would have gone at this differently if she'd realized Lin was all bluster. He was wrecking worse than she was now, and that was a fucking accomplishment. Alright, so Lin was single. Check. Not that it mattered so much but, yeah, check. As for cheating? She wasn't one to go all pot-kettle on the guy, so she ignored that tidbit. Instead, she concentrated on his question, which was a fair one. "He doesn't see anyone but me, I don't think, and he needs people. He can't fucking forget what people are like, or what being touched is like, but I'm in a shit place right now, and I get upset every time he hits below the belt, which he does all the fucking time, because he doesn't like it when I get close about crap." And maybe it was an unfair advantage, using the things she knew from Christine, but fuck it. "You liked him; he liked you. I figured you'd be a good substitute." She shrugged, and what the fuck? Might as well be honest. "Normally, I can shake him off, but lately, with the drugs I'm on, I get hurt, and I just want a hit when I get like that. So, yeah." Honesty. "And what the fuck is a companion cube?" There was one, glaring flaw in Sam’s comparison of herself and Neil to Lin and Daniel was that, uh, they were all vastly, almost laughably, different people. And though he had no idea what Neil was like, besides rich as balls and likely middle-aged and emotionally heavy-handed (hey, if she liked Daniel, he figured he could make that kind of assumption), the boy was willing to bet that the similarities stopped with the four of them being humans. That sort of weakened the credibility of the whole thing just a smidge. Not that it mattered in the first place. Because this was ridiculous. And the fact that Lin was even allowing himself to get so worked up about any of it was silly and immature and, most of all, disproportionate, and he knew that. Sadly, he was painfully aware of all of it. Because he didn’t know Daniel. Yes, he liked him fine over the journals. It was always a nice change of pace to have someone who could both keep up with him and take his insults (and return them) in stride. Did that mean there was anything more to it? No. Not necessarily. He was just... so confused. And confused about being confused, because it all seemed pretty straightforward when he remembered how it went down. How much clearer did he need someone to be, before he actually understood they didn’t want him around, anyway? Did he want a literal sign, hand-painted and with his name on it? - But then there was Sam - Sam, who introduced all manner of doubt with every word she spoke and slowly chipped away at Lin’s already shaky certainty that this was a bad idea. "It’s...- I mean, I’m just embarrassed here," he admitted begrudgingly, as he decided not to go into just what a Companion Cube was right now, however saddened he was by Sam’s lack of Portal knowledge. Resting once again against the sharp angle of the back of the sofa, Lin had listened to the girl patiently and parsed the information as well as he could. He made not a peep at the mention of drugs. He’d already figured that bit out, more or less. Really, it was none of his business. He just recommended the films here. "I don’t mind if people are assholes; I’m an asshole. It’s not like I wasn’t expecting that. He just confused me, which, in retrospect, I should’ve seen coming anyway. But, I didn’t, and I ended up on the floor, and it was humiliating as fuck." He sighed. "Now you know why I didn’t want to go. Not to mention, I don’t know who the hell am I supposed to entertain myself with now. And I have a lot of time on my hands." Sam would have argued that who any of them were had nothing to do with his claim that you couldn't like someone from writing at them. It was bullshit, but she didn't know his thought process had gone off in that direction, and so he was spared her arguing with him about it. Instead, she watched the expressions on his face changed, and she wished she could find a way to weld those changing expressions, to convey the story in metal. But, yeah, no, he was talking. When had that started? "You have to get over being embarrassed," said the girl who had stormed out of Daniel's apartment thanks to embarrassment and hurt feelings. "He's a shit all the time. He made me cry for a full fucking hour at Christmas, which totally sounds like some domestic abuse crap, but it wasn't. I just got way too fucking close, and I think you get too close just by breathing, for whatever reason. He likes your wit, or your hipster sweater, or your stupid obsession with pop culture. Either way, baby, you need to be persistent if you want to stay in his life, even if it's as a friend. Humiliate the fucker back, or do whatever you would normally do if he was a douche to you on the journals. Go entertain the man. Take Leo, insist on watching this stupid movie, and fix it." And she looked pleased with herself. Look at that? She was becoming a relationship expert or some shit. Sam’s expert relationship advice seemed to include of backhanded compliments. Lin brushed down the front of his cardigan with the palms of hands with a mostly mocking sniff as he listened, though he wasn’t too keen on it being referred to as a ‘hipster sweater.’ (For the record, he’d always been the more too school for cool type. He was far too enthusiastic to be anything but a geek. And the cardigan was stylish. Not hipster, okay? Stop that.) But, his head really snapped up when she called his pop culture knowledge stupid. His face was a mask of indignation, but, with effort, he held his tongue until she’d finished. "Your jealousy of my superior popular culture intellect has not gone unnoticed. Don’t make me reference something you won’t understand," replied the boy in mock offense, giving Sam a very pointed look. But, then he remembered himself and sunk back into the couch like the sad puppy he was. "Yeah, but, -" He hesitated, his eyes dropping to his hands at the pride on the girl’s face. He thought about what she said about crying at Christmas. "What am I supposed to do? And, - well, what’s to say he won’t do to me what he did to you?" It wasn’t meant to hurt her feelings, but Lin honestly didn’t know another way to ask. He glanced up at Sam. She laughed at his mock offense, and she wondered if all those syllables were really necessary, but whatever. She liked the mouthy little punk version of him better than the doe-eyed slouchy thing drowning in sadness, and she waited as he looked down at his hands and stammered. She didn't reach out and strangle him, which she thought was a pretty impressive accomplishment. But, fuck, she had come this far, right? So answering his question with anything but truth was kind of ridiculous, so she didn't even bother. "I was always just a fuck," she explained, pointing a torch-burn calloused finger at him. "You're not." Blunt, but true, and her feelings were immune to that particular question, because she'd come to terms with that from day one. And if she was going to be bummed about it, it would be once the kid left and the opera was blaring again. Fuck sinking ships; they didn't do it for her. As for what he was supposed to do? "What would you do if he told you to fuck yourself on the journals? Because you need to just do the real-life version of that." Simple, right? After all, that's what he and Daniel did, yeah? Lin was well aware of the reactions he provoked in others. He had it all down to a science by now, and knew, most of the time, how to get what he wanted with just a few twists of a word - when it came to being his usual cheeky self, in any case. It was this learned sixth sense, this extra set of feelers, then that picked up on the impatience Sam subtlety exuded (but didn’t express) when he deflated yet again. Her finger was in his face. "Let’s take a moment to remember that, my beautiful high cheekbones, enviable, pouty lips, and bangin’ bod aside, I’m... - how you say - not a woman." He gestured to himself feebly, one hand waving toward each feature as it was mentioned. It was hard to be ‘just a fuck’ to a straight man as... another man, it seemed to Lin. You were kinda something else by default, right? Somehow that wee detail continued to elude Sam, and she appeared to be under the impression that there was some other difference that set the boy apart. He chose not to dwell on it. Half a second later, however, he was smiling, if only just. Because, to be honest, he was as irritated by this plague of doldrums and insecurity as Sam was, and so he was just going to stop. Just stop. It was so boring being boring. Lin released his knees and straightened his spine as he mentally coached himself. He sat there on the sofa, cross-legged. The change in demeanor didn’t necessarily translate to any kind of shift in outlook or feeling (he still felt like shit), but - well, it helped. It was one of few things his therapist got right (if you smile, you'll automatically start to feel happier! Hippie bullshit!). That and his upped dosage of antidepressants. "If only I could use gifs IRL, man. That would be the literal, actual, fo’ reals shit," sighed the boy with a brief, wistful look aimed at the space just above Sam’s head, before his eyes slid down and focused on the girl across from him once again. (What would she think about all of those syllables?) He cocked his head, pretending to seriously consider the question of how he’d respond to being told to fuck himself, before deadpanning: "I would kick his ass." See? He was feeling better already. "Oh, please, the fucker is crushing on you, and your dick so doesn't factor in," Sam insisted. Listen, the only person in her life without a gay flag or serious wiggle room was Neil, which she wasn't going to concentrate on too long. If you just took her friends and family as a way to determine how many straight people were in the world, the Christians would lose their fucking shit and everyone would start investing in spank banks for continued existence of life on the planet. And Sam was an expert in facades. Hey, she was even an expert in useless shrinks these days. She didn't buy Lin's turn around, but whatever. She'd said her bit, and the guy would either bite or not bite. Her job here as The Oracle of Daniel was done, and maybe Lin would end up better off than Liam, because she was striking the fuck out when it came to helping people with their crap lately. But, she reminded herself, she was better than the doc. That had to count for something, yeah? Either way, she just shoved at his shoulder when he started making noise about gifs and talking like he'd met Snoop Dog or something (hey, she grew up in a Jersey slum. She knew Snoop Dog). She looked over him at the end, and she gave him a challenging grin. "Yeah? Well go kick his ass." Admittedly, she'd never tried that. Once again, Sam earned an incredulous look from Lin. Rude. He tipped his chin up a couple degrees, just enough to denote haughtiness. "Excuse you, my dick always factors in." He sniffed again, all feigned disblief, uncrossing his legs to plant his feet on the floor once again and situate himself on the sofa as was intended in its design. By the time he'd settled in, Sam's hand hit him lightly in the shoulder. This wasn't the first unnerving parallel between this evening's attempt at Titanic viewing and his doomed visit to Daniel's. Lin just held, white-knuckled, onto the hope that this would end differently and that he could go home without wanting to execute Jigglypuff. That was all he wanted. So he didn't respond by moving in closer as he had done last time. Instead he smacked at the offending hand with his own and made whining sound, very much in the spirit of five-year-olds tussling with their sisters in the backseats of vans everywhere. He returned her smile, though his grin was more resigned than anything else. It was too bad he had to be the size of child. There were times when kicking someone's ass, physically, did appeal to him. And Daniel did have it coming. Boy, did he ever. But Lin was all too aware of the fact that he would be the one to end up in an uncomfortable bed in a hospital somehwere were he stupid enough to try. To put it into MMORPG players' terms, he was no tank. He was, if anything, DPS. (Do a little damage over a long period of time, and voila!) The ass-kicking would have to go down the usual way, then. With words. (Dual-wielding was the bomb.) Lin could do that. But first, he would back off. Just for a bit. It would give him time to think, while simultaneously lulling Daniel into a false sense of smug isolation. Then, he could bust in Spanish Inquisition-style, outfit, tortuous cushions, and all. It was a flawless plan. Pure genius. Without a thought, the boy leaned himself against Sam's shoulder. It never once crossed his mind that to do so would make her uncomfortable. He just needed to be physically comforted by another person right now and she was there and she was nice. "I'll get to it eventually," he promised sincerely. Lin shifted a little on the cushion, and, in his best and most innocent, unassuming voice asked, "So, how was the sex then? Any good?" Sam just laughed a smug laugh, but she didn't reply. Was it good? He'd just have to find out on his own, wouldn't he? |