Dusty "THAT DUMBASS THAT SLEPT WITH COBY" Baker (dusty_storm) wrote in light_of_may, @ 2009-11-20 17:53:00 |
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Entry tags: | 2009-06-23 |
A Dirty Helping Hand
Who: Dusty and Gideon
When: 5:00am, just before sunrise
Where: Trailer Park
This had been a particularly bad new moon for Gideon, and it wasn't quite over. His attempts to bolster his mood, stay active, and accomplish something had left him with more energy, but that had just been channeled into his attempts to escape and destroy. His body would heal eventually, and whatever possessed him in the dark of the moon seemed to take that as license to leave his body a ruin by the end of it. He'd recover, and all his injuries would be worth it if he freed himself and wreaked the havoc that horrible drive to violence wanted to wreak. He still struggled, not flagging. Weakness would knock him nearly senseless when the sun drove away his curse, but he'd keep fighting up until the last moment. Dusty and Gareth had bound him in tight, so he hadn't been able to move much, but he'd succeeded in doing himself plenty of damage even so constrained. When pain didn't mean anything (though he still felt it, and worse now than at normal times), when escape meant everything, why not try again and again to escape his cuffs until the flesh was scraped to the bone beneath? Why not hurl himself in any direction he could raise a little momentum, in spite of what might be wrenched and twisted? Maybe the day would come when the bolts came free.
The worst of it was that Gideon was quite aware. Helpless, locked inside this mess made of the body he was so tightly in tune with, but aware. He could feel every injury of the night. He'd broken at least one finger. At least it wasn't a thumb this time. The back of his head would be a bloody mess. His left arm was quite out of its socket, and his left arm was a little tetchy at the best of times, injured in a fall when he was a kid and always slightly unpredictable. His ankles and wrists were rubbed raw, skin torn away by constant pressure against his cuffs. And his cheeks were red and sticky from the night's tears. They were still falling fresh, the only part of his body that seemed to respond to pain, to constantly being hurled back into his worst, most horrid memories. The blood got everywhere after dripping from his eyes all night, into his hair, pooled around him, down his cheeks and chin and throat, the crusted, congealing mess somehow revolting him. He didn't much like the sight of his own, dead blood, calm as he was about anyone else's.
As the dawn came on, Gideon's efforts to escape escalated. He didn't notice. He was half stuck remembering his months of mad searching for his missing sire, half too exhausted and overwhelmed to notice anything at all but the room spinning by while his eyes rolled. He'd gnawed through his gag entirely, though bits of cotton were lodged in his mouth, along with blood from his tears and bites on his lips. It was hard to avoid stabbing himself. High, bestial snarls escaped as he pulled monotonously, sharply with his hands and feet, trying to dislodge the bolts that kept him trapped, the repeated motion scraping and squelching against his bloodied wrists and ankles. Not much time left, but enough to try.
Dusty had left the trailer with a heavy sigh and an even heavier mind. He'd met Ava, spent hours talking to her, and then had come home to have to deal with Gareth afterward. It'd been one event after another the last several days. Nothing ever really seemed to settle for them anymore, even after they'd apparently settled themselves. As he walked, he wondered if they'd made a mistake by settling here somehow, if this place was just bad for them all around. So many people seemed to be pressing their greedy fingers into the cracks of their lives, pulling it wide open and moving on in.
Gideon was different, though, and as much as Dusty didn't like to admit it aloud, the other vampire was probably the best thing for both him and Gareth right now. It was a friend they could rely on, a piece that hadn't been there before, a sort of stability or barrier or something. Dusty thought on it as he walked through the trailer park, knowing his way to the other vampire's place without even needing to look up. He chewed absently at a cigarette he'd plucked from Gareth's jacket earlier, his brow heavy over his eyes as he thought. He was going to be early to arrive, but he imagined it was close enough. The sunrise would come in a matter of minutes, he figured, and if that were true than surely most of the moon madness or whatever would be over with.
Once he'd reached the van, Dusty stepped up and pulled out the key he'd taken earlier, slipping it into the hole to let himself in. Already he could smell the blood -- some of it old, some of it fresh. It was vivid though, and he could see it before the door even finished opening. When he did finally get a glimpse of the inside of the van, Dusty realized belatedly the error he'd made. He'd absolutely shown up too soon.
"Oh shit, boy."
Just when Dusty entered, Gideon wasn't having one of his most strikingly lucid moments. He was stuck recalling his grandfather's funeral of all things, an event he didn't even remember aside from these nights when his mind turned itself inward on its darkest places. Sitting very still in a very quiet room in very stiff Sunday clothes inherited from older cousins, smelling death in the August heat of Kentucky, the images of his father crying more horrid to him than a vague, simply unbelievable notion that Grandad wouldn't be there anymore. It didn't last long, though. Finding no refuge within, his consciousness moved out again. He didn't spot Dusty immediately. His eyes whipped back and forth too quickly to settle so quickly on any one thing, but he gathered that he wasn't alone in his home pretty quickly. And shell-shocked and useless as his abused mind was, there were only so many candidates. If he'd had control over a single nerve in his body he'd have tried to tell Dusty to go, to come back when he wasn't this awful, violent thing, but he had no way to do that. Instead, he shrieked and redoubled his efforts to escape, that dark force deciding that anyone nearby was a potential victim, quite regardless of what Gideon might process. It had been the same when he spent these nights with his sire or siblings. It wasn't discerning. With one final snarl he tried to lunge at Dusty, was dragged back by one more painful impact with his restraints, and was released by the first stirrings of daylight. Gideon's body went limp as every stirring of energy seemed to leave him at once.
Hesitating at the door, Dusty was shocked when his presence seemed to make matters worse. He wasn't even human anymore, not quite able to fathom the response and stumbled backward slightly in his shock. He blinked rapidly and turned to pull the door closed behind him, not thinking anyone needed to know what was happening inside the van. Suddenly he felt incredibly grateful that Gareth had chosen not to be here for this. He didn't think his friend could have handled the appearance of the other vampire, their new friend, regardless of what the both of them might have been through already in their lives. This was definitely something entirely different. "Hey, uh... you... you okay?" he asked, brow furrowed as he approached Gideon. He'd noted the chance in him when it'd happened, figuring that maybe his rage was starting to pass.
Gideon just groaned in answer to that at first. Hell no, he wasn't! He was in pain everywhere he possibly could be in pain, or so it seemed at the moment, and he felt like he'd been repeatedly kicked in the skull, for all the strength he could muster. Couldn't go on ignoring Dusty, though. Dusty was doing him a favor... Gideon's eyelids fluttered a bit, sticky from the crying he couldn't avoid, and forced them open. He felt like his eyes ought to be bloodshot and horrid, but aside from being ringed in old blood, they were as bright and wide as ever, if a bit tired. His throat was hoarse and he had to push a gob of bloody cloth from his mouth before he could really speak. "Been better..." he managed to rasp out. He just needed to be untied. That was all. He hadn't wanted Dusty to be a witness to this at all, though at least he hadn't brought Gareth. Though it was nice to imagine having someone help him clean the blood off, he didn't really expect Dusty to stay. "Just, um, hurry'n let me out, please?" Well, hell, couldn't hurt to ask. "An' while yer here, if maybe y'could pop my arm back in the socket... I mean, that'd be good..." His voice still didn't rise above a whisper.
"Yeah, a'course," Dusty said, moving to sit down next to Gideon on the floor. He let out a heavy sigh and began releasing the other vampire as quickly as he could manage. "Y'know, hoss... I was only askin' if you was okay to uh, figure out if you were gonna bite me when I got close... not becuase I thought you might actually be okay or anything like that. I ain't that stupid." He snorted a laugh and glanced to meet Gideon's tired eyes. "Not all the time, anyhow." Once he'd finished freeing Gideon's hands he moved to his feet, gesturing for him to stay where he was until he'd finished. "Hold on... soon as I'm done here, I'll help you get yer arm back in place."
"Thanks, Dusty." Gideon didn't sit up immediately. It was his impulse, but he'd probably fall right back down. He did relax his right arm, though. Funny how even death wouldn't stop muscles from screaming. He was awfully stiff on top of everything, but that was nothing new. He raised the right hand gingerly to his face and cursed. He'd only broken one finger, the littlest, but it had already started to heal. That was the one problem with vampire healing. If something wasn't set right, it'd go right ahead and try and fix itself. He'd have to rebreak the bone or have a finger sticking out at a gross angle henceforth. Gideon let out a string of curses, mainly in Chinese, that sleepily petered out. He almost forgot that pain as his arm was returned to its proper position. That never hurt a bit less. "Sometimes I miss bein' able t'pass out or throw up or whatever... bein' alive y'at least git a response t'pain..." Even more discomfort might be cathartic.
"Yeah, I can hear that," Dusty said, nodding as he returned to Gideon's side. He'd finished letting him out of his bonds and glanced over him, at the havoc that had been wreaked on the smaller man's frame. It seemed insane, and Dusty once again was thankful he didn't have to go through anything like this. "I uhh, you ready to put yer arm back in?" He reached out and took hold of the one that had come out of socket, being ginger with it. He was more than familiar with this by now, having had it happen to him -- and having been forced to fix Gareth once or twice. It came with the job, though, not that it was something he was going to explain to Gideon.
He tried to focus on flexing his ankles, testing how bad the flesh wounds were, but he hated the sensation of a joint being shoved back into its socket. Almost worse than having it dislodged in the first place. He breathed in through tightly clenched teeth, refusing to yell as much as the situation warranted it. "Thanks..." His voice was almost inaudible that time. "Fuckin'... ack." He'd have to deal with that finger before he thought about it too much. He picked at bloody threads of cotton from between his teeth while he geared himself up for it. "So, uh, hey, do me a favor, look over that way an' maybe grab the bandage things from up in the yellow crate on top..." He'd need to hold the finger still until the bone learned where it was supposed to be. At least it was his right hand. Wouldn't prevent too many things he might want to do today. Too tired to really notice whether Dusty had turned, he stuck the nastily bent finger under his heel, set his jaw, and rebroke the digit with his foot with a sad little crack.
Dusty released Gideon's arm the second he was sure it was where it needed to be, glad to have that over with and out of the way. He glanced up at yellow crate when it was gestured to, sighing as he stood to go and get it. He heard the crack behind him and figured out on his own what it was, but didn't turn back until he'd successfully fetched the crate. It wasn't heavy or awkward for him, which was nice, and he set it down next to Gideon. "You got runnin' water in here?" he asked. "I can get you a rag or somethin' if that'd help... y'know, like, to wipe off all the blood and gore. It's not exactly the sexiest thing in all this damn world." It was meant to try and cheer Gideon up, even though Dusty was fully aware the other vampire had literally been through hell and back over the night. He ran an anxious hand over his head, wanting to help but not sure what else to do with himself at the moment. Dusty glanced down at the cuffs on the floor, feeling bad for Gideon all over again. He couldn't imagine having to deal with this kind of hell once a month.
Gideon's hands shook a little as he pulled out a length of gauze and wrapped his pinky tightly to his ring finger. "It'll be okay in a li'l while..." He blinked, forgetting where he was for a second. He was so tired. The statement was as much to himself as Dusty. Recalling his guest, he looked up and tried his best to smile. "Gonna maybe want gloves today... Oh, yeah. Water. I got rags." He didn't have running water, as it happened, but he'd filled a big tupperware container with the dampened remains of disintegrated t-shirts, also in the yellow crate. "Feel like a goddamn horse kicked m'head in..." He favored his left hand a little in extracting the dampened cloths and beginning the arduous task of getting the caked blood off his skin and hair. This was why he didn't wear a shirt and generally cut the cuffs off the jeans he wore on full moons. He didn't have many clothes to spare, after all. He managed to scrape off the heavy, still-sticky layer, though a lot of his face and neck were still stained and rusty, and his hair wasn't helped at all. "Thanks for comin' by. By the way. Helps a lot... not t'be alone, not jus' the, y'know, actual help."
Dusty watched as Gideon washed himself, feeling awkward and definitely sorry for him... though he wasn't sure what else to do at this point. "Yeah, not a problem, man." He shrugged easily enough, dropping his hands into his lap. They stayed there as a short silence descended between them. Dusty was contemplating the moment, the smell of blood on the air and the torn up look Gideon was displaying. It reminded him of a hunt he and Gareth had gone on recently, and he pushed the memories away as soon as they came up. He hoped that it never really came up to Gideon, what they'd done for a living for so many years... If the other vampire found out, would that be the end of their friendship? "You want me to stick around a bit?" he asked. "Gare's prob'ly gonna be out fer a while anyhow, so it ain't like I'm really needed back home just yet. And hey, speakin' of home, you're welcome to stop by, y'know... 'specially if you wanna use our shower or whatever. You're lookin' kinda gross at this particular moment."
"Oh... actually, yeah, that'd be great." He'd feel much more properly clean then. Gideon pulled the bandanna free from his hair, letting the nearly waist-length hair hang down to cover the bloody spots. If someone were out particularly early in the trailer park, he didn't want to have to explain anything. If he hurried, he'd at least get the blood off before Gareth woke up. Gideon shakily got to his feet. He really needed to eat soon, but... well, he could wait until he went to work, certainly. He wasn't dangerous right now. The mental discipline he'd trained himself to made him very good at keeping those urges under control. That and there'd be no one there but Gareth, who he'd already convinced himself was utterly off limits. He pulled a t-shirt out of one of his storage bins and tugged it over his head, wincing as his raw wrists were pulled through. "I really... I will be okay. Like in a li'l bit. S'just hard to... come outta this..."
Shifting a little anxiously, Dusty watched Gideon's movements as he pulled his tee-shirt on, glad that he seemed to be alright, at least. "Alright, c'mon then, you... let's get you all cleaned up, 'cause this nasty blood thing ain't my style." He laughed and pushed the door open to hold it for Gideon, not even really thinking about it. If only Gideon knew the things he and Gareth had done, how many nights they'd come home covered head to toe in the blood of dead supernaturals... The blood thing was more their style than he would ever let on. "Gareth should still be sleepin', so no jerkin' it off 'less you can keep it good an' quiet, 'cause that boy ain't never sleeps unless I knock him down first." He snorted a laugh at the joke and started toward his and Gareth's trailer. "If you uhhh... you need to feed real bad, I um... d'you think you'll be okay...? I mean... what with Gareth bein' in there and everything..." He shrugged, trying his damnedest to not appear overly concerned or protective. He just wasn't sure what to think about having a thirsty vampire in their home that wasn't him. He knew he could control himself if he had to -- well, he liked to imagine that was the case, anyway... but Gideon... Dusty threw him a sideways glance, blue eyes quietly inquisitive, seeking information without really asking for it. "D'you... need it bad enough? Do vampires um... benefit from havin' each other's blood?"
"Aw, God, not that I know." He made a face. The idea of drinking cold, dead blood wasn't appealing. "I'll be fine. I've never hurt anyone. An' I wouldn't..." He was lucky he was still speaking so slowly. He'd almost said he wouldn't bite someone already sick, but that was one more secret he was keeping for Gareth. He twirled a lock of hair around the fingers of his left hand, already feeling well enough to function. "...Without real permission. Cain't wake someone up an' expect 'em t'have their sense workin' well enough fer that." He thought that was a pretty good save. Gideon looked up at Dusty with a smile. "Oh, I won't make a sound. I'm really sneaky if I wanna be. Won' even let the tap squeak when I turn it on." Dusty's crudeness discomfited him a little. Somewhere under all those years of espousing free love and openness, a kid bred up to the sharpest standards of Southern Baptist fundamentalism couldn't help being a bit of a prude. Maybe if he just didn't acknowledge what he'd heard. "Though while I'm there, I could make some breakfast t'leave him. As thanks for the shower. Stop me if I'm wrong, but neither a'you guys seems like yer too handy in the kitchen." He brightened a little at the thought. Having something to look forward to cheered him, even a tiny favor for a friend.
"Good," Dusty said about the insinuated promise that Gideon would never take advantage of his sleeping friend. It was enough to put him at ease, which was a difficult thing to do. Considering his extensive background with the supernatural, Dusty didn't give his trust out that easily. Gideon, for whatever reason, had gained the trust of himself and his human friend with seeming ease, without even really trying for it. "I'm sure Gareth would 'preciate some breakfast, an' particularly if he was capable of eatin' it. We ain't really chefs ourselves, not really. He can kinda make what he needs to get by, but gettin' by gets old after a while. He makes a lotta noise over food sometimes." Gareth made a lot of noise, regardless of the food situation. It was what he was good at.
"Aw, that's no problem, then. Bet I can even cook so's you two'd like it. I mean, Kentucky ain't Texas, but the food's better in Dixie." Or China, but he doubted the ingredients would be waiting in Dusty and Gare's kitchen. He was glad he wouldn't be a complete burden on their goodwill. He'd bring Gareth dinner after work, too. Might as well. He amused himself with that image for a moment as they walked across the silent, gray trailer park, the long shadows of the beginning of daylight throwing the world into a dreamy state. Even the run-down little collection of trailers looked mysterious and strange. Gid liked it. "Lucky Gare already invited me over. That means I got an invitation from him, right?" Certainly seemed like it should. "Though it's your house too, so maybe that'd be okay anyway." He rolled his healing shoulder a bit experimentally. His left arm would be right as rain soon enough. That was a quick heal, really. He wouldn't even be feeling it much by nightfall.
Dusty shot Gideon a pointed look at the way the other man had said that, the idea that he would like food in his current state putting him off a little. Sour over the idea he couldn't eat human food, Dusty wasn't even really sure how to respond at first. In the end, Dusty ended up offering a shrug and a half-hearted grunt, the walk to his and Gareth's place seeming longer than it needed to be for the moment. "Yeah, I think that's considered an invitation. I cain't invite no one into the house no how anyway, so... good thing he already did it. Wouldn't wanna be wakin' him up so you could come in. That'd defeat the purpose of bein' quiet, wouldn't it?" Dusty hated that he couldn't invite others into the trailer, and that he himself could be trapped out of it. It was infuriating. Hopefully the wouldn't get to that point again anytime in the near future. It wasn't fair.
Gideon had completely missed his inclusion of Dusty. He still found food enjoyable, even if he couldn't eat it personally; the smell, the fun of working in the kitchen, any appreciation from the people he cooked for, even just the tactile pleasure of the task. He hoped, in fact, to make the kitchen smell deliciously of whatever he could find to make. Maybe it'd cheer Dusty up a little. He almost started talking about his memories of working with his grandmother back home, standing on an old milk crate to reach the counter and sorting things out so he could stand the wait until he was big enough to hold a knife, but he stopped at the memory that not everyone had a nice grandmother. And that he had run out on his like a selfish little coward. Gideon wasn't quite free of the new moon's influence just yet. "S'good that we don' need t'wake him up. Poor guy could stand some sleep."
It didn't take them long to finally get to the trailer, and when they did Dusty opened the front door without the use of keys. Neither he or Gareth were very good at remembering not to trust their neighbors. They weren't quite acclimated to the whole... having a place thing. Eventually they would need to start being careful, but not just yet. "Alright now, you be careful when you go on into the shower." As per usual, the trailer looked like a pair of morons lived in it. A shopping cart behind the couch, clothes on the floor, a couple of full ashtrays on the coffee table, fast food bags on the floor... Dusty turned to grab a jacket hanging up nearby, fishing through the pockets for Gareth's cigarettes. He had a nasty habit of stealing them from the other man.
"Uh..." Gideon just nodded. This place really needed to be cleaned up. Where did you even get a shopping cart, of all things? He wouldn't offer to Dusty. He'd get laughed at and told to act less like a woman, he guessed. Gareth would probably say yes, and he could probably get the job done pretty quickly. Dusty wasn't likely to notice. "Sure." He didn't want to say anything else. He'd wake Gareth. Tiptoeing, he made his way forward, picking his way across the floor without dislodging a single McDonald's wrapper or crumpled shirt. He'd never put his light step and carefully judged skill to use this way. These two really needed a hand. Most would have called what Gideon was thinking of "a woman's touch," but as he had always been on the domestic side, he just figured they could use him around a bit more often. With one tired smile over his shoulder to Dusty, he ducked into the bathroom, nearly floored by the scent of mildew. Yeah, he was going to ask Gareth about cleaning the place up. He hurried through his shower, glad for once that he didn't feel temperature. He didn't have to wait for it to warm up. He dressed equally hurriedly, as fast as his stiff, battered arms could, and tossed his hair back over his shoulders. Even soaking, and it would take hours to dry, it was better than caked on blood. Feeling much better and even less tired, he tiptoed out again.
He didn't see any need to bother Dusty, who'd already gotten up early or stayed up late to help him out. He sneaked into the kitchen next and almost sighed aloud. Was that really fire damage? Really? Well, while he was at breakfast, he might as well tidy up a little. Sneaking as effectively as he had before, he set about a silent breakfast, guessing at what Gare would like from his own tastes. They were a lot alike every other way, after all. And there wasn't much variety in ingredients, anyhow. He managed to scrape together a simple omelet and toast without making much noise. He considered leaving a note about what groceries he'd used and to let them know that Gid would also bring by dinner late, remembered that Gareth, at least, couldn't read, and sighed quietly. Hopeless, the pair of them. While the eggs cooked he managed to at least scratch the surface of the mess, picking up abandoned trash, wiping down surfaces, and covering his nose to dump a few things that had probably been in the fridge since they moved in. Hopeless! He covered Gareth's breakfast up with a pot lid, leaving the kitchen cleaner than it had been since they'd moved in (superficially at least) and smelling of a grandmother's kitchen, waving to Dusty on his way out. He had plenty more to do today. Getting that trailer livable would be a project for when he was feeling up to it.