teresa tway, the original gone girl. (mermazing) wrote in fableless, @ 2016-07-01 20:53:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! narrative, sumner grace |
WHO: Sumner Grace, his two NPC best friends from college, Owen Gogarty & Clare Stevens, and a random jerkdick.
WHEN: Fall 2014.
WHERE: Gallaudet University, Washington D.C.
SUMMARY: First time a guy punched someone over you.
WARNINGS: Mild depiction of violence. Slut-shaming (of a minor; Sum is 17). Sexual implications?
STATUS: Complete!
Last year, Owen didn't have this problem. Last year, Owen's big problem was that he was in the first year of his doctorate and his best friend was, somehow, shaping up to be a 16 year old undergrad whose themed cake pops made bank for their frat, and whose obsession with Grey Goose vodka was mostly because the bottle was super freaking pretty. It is completely unsurprising to Owen that his big problem this year also centres around Why With An S (and if sees any other motherfucker sign him as anything but that, he will straight up punch them in the face, too). Most doctoral students' big struggle is, quite understandably, with their thesis. His, apparently, is dealing with the fact that his underage best friend has come back from summer vacation lean with muscle and the blatant habit of sucking on anything phallic shaped like it is the best thing ever. Lets get this out of the way: Owen is straight. He has a girlfriend who, sure, he doesn’t like, but that’s got nothing to do with her body. Even if he wasn't, even if he didn’t, he likes to think his taste would run to someone who is older, not his housemate and overall less energetic. This is not that kind of problem and, fucking frankly, the insinuation that this is what this is about is what pushes him from snarling in the jerkdick's face to making a solid attempt at breaking his nose. It’s unfortunate for everyone involved that the jerkdick is the kind of asshole who wears sunglasses in D.C in the fucking Fall. There’s blood, and shattered glass, and his Cochlear and hearing ear tag-teaming to to capture the cacophony that is the jerkdick screaming cusses at him and Sumner behind him yelling, “OWEN.”, “EPIC FAIL.” and, somewhat confusingly, “Oh my GOD, I’m going to owe Marce half my body if you BLINDED HIM.” He didn’t blind him. None of the glass even went in his eye, for fuck’s sake. Why With An S signing frantic apologises and offering to do his laundry for like, the rest of the year if the jerkdick doesn’t press charges is completely unnecessary. And then, it just takes the fucking cake, that Sumner rounds on him afterwards and slams his hands together in an aggressive display of signing that must jar, mouth stubborn and still. BAD MUSCLE WITH AN O. Owen, cradling his bleeding hand to his chest, scowls. Doesn’t sign back, and barely moves his lips just to be a dick. “I’m not a fucking dog.” Sumner must know what he’s saying, or be able to guess, as his hands move so fast that someone who’s not been fluent for all that long—say, Owen—might have trouble following it, def when he’s distracted by the fucking glass in his hands. Something about Kangaroos and thumbs, and the only crystal clear message from all of it is what Sumner clearly finds most important Then don’t act like you have NO MANNERS. “I don’t have any manners.” No scowl this time, just plain and simple. Nothing shuts Sum up faster than agreeing with him exactly when he doesn’t want you to. Making sure to stay away from can you when you show him your sluggishly bleeding hand, that doesn’t hurt either. “Will you do something about this or what?” A couple minutes later, and they’ve taken a bench back from some freshman. Sumner’s wielding a pair of Pretty With A C’s tweezers with a determined set to his mouth, while the woman herself sits filing her nails and staring at Owen like he’s the one who was trying to remake their housemate’s name sign into Suck with an S. “You’re an idiot.” In the course of their friendship, it’s probably about the thousandth time she’s told him this out loud, about the fifthy thousandth overall. Honestly, it’s kind of lost its sting. “For not taking his glasses off first you’re an idiot.” She’s ticking it off on her fingers now, like that’s not overkill. “For thinking punching a guy for him won’t bite you in the ass you’re a a bigger idiot, and for thinking Sumner didn’t already know what some of those boys call him, you’re the biggest idiot of all.” And Owen, he just gapes at her. It’s a big enough reaction that normally it would’ve caught Sumner’s eye, clued him into the fact that a conversation is going on around him. But he’s focused on picking orange glass (fucking orange) out of Owen’s knuckles and doesn’t even look up. “Then why’s he even giving me shit? He should be GRATEFUL.” Look, Owen’s not trying to start anything. He’s not saying Sumner has to bake him a Cherry pie or anything, but come on. The delicate little shrug Clare does makes him sure he’s going to hate whatever she comes out with next. “Maybe he gets off on it.” “Bullshit.” Owen says it, right away, no pause. Still, he’s uneasy. Sure he can tell that certain guys— even guys Owen would swear are straight— have been paying attention to how red his mouth gets after sucking on a popsicle, all hollowed cheeks and doe eyes, but he doesn’t want to notice. Literally, any of that, he doesn’t want to know. Pretty With A C raises her eyebrows at him like, Are you sure about that, Muscle with an O? And yeah, alright, he’s sure. “Nobody would like that shit. Why would anyone?” His eyes go to Sumner, plucking out glass gently, tongue peeking out with the concentration it must take for him to even stay still. It’s not exactly kosher to have conversations around another Deafie, especially if you’re Hearing, like Pretty With A C is or late-deafened, even, like Owen himself. But it happens with them, sometimes. Why With An S never seems to mind when he notices, which is often. Except this time. This time Owen thinks he’d mind. From the uncomfortable look on Clare’s face, he thinks she’s come to the same conclusion. “Ask him.” Is all she says, all she has a chance to say, because Sumner is looking up at him with triumph and the last piece of glass, like he was just waiting for them to be done talking about him. (Later, a lot of things occurs to Owen at once. That Sumner actually had his hearing aid in for once, that severely deaf isn’t profoundly deaf, that Sum’s had a lifetime of experience in reading lips and body language that he and Clare just don’t. But later is also when Sumner has his head nuzzled onto Owen’s leg, and Pretty With A C is not too busy talking over Gone Girl’s Cool Girl speech to turn her head, flick her eyes and mouth 'Told you'. So, yeah, maybe this year’s Sumner problem is going to be bigger than last year’s one by an easy mile). |