Getting Along Ain't Easy Who: Dusty and Gareth When: 9:05pm sounds good Where: Denny's (restaurant)
Gareth got comfortable in his seat, looking up at the waitress who hovered over them. "Jus' a coffee an' seasoned fries fer me gorgeous." He grinned, and drummed his fingers on the plastic of the menu. Turning his attention back to Dusty, he gave the older man a smile, tired and quiet. It had been too long since they'd... gone out to eat. For obvious reasons. The smile faded a little, and he exhaled, deciding not to ask about what had happened between his friend and Ava. Dusty would talk about it if he wanted to. "I saw Gid earlier today. He looked good. Was he a real mess this mornin?" His curiosity was morbid, but sincere. Gideon had looked a little bruised up, but overall okay.
Dusty looked through the menu briefly, rolling his eyes at the Moon Over My Hammy and wishing so badly he could have one. Hell, anything at all would be fucking fantastic at this point. "Gas station hot dog," he grumbled, mouth barely moving as he dropped the menu back onto the table. It was a dejected movement, the look in his eyes a little sour. The angel blood had made him feel good all day, but it was mostly gone by now. "Last fuckin' thing I ate was a goddamn gas station hot dog." It was said as if he needed to really drive the point home for the other man. "Unfuckinfair," he told Gareth. Dusty shrugged afterward and sighed, leaning back in the booth to press his weight against the wood, one leg propped up on the cushion. His boots were amazingly filthy. "I dunno, he uhh... I guess he looked alright, if yer into that sorta nasty shit." He took off his cowboy hat and tossed it onto the table, shooting a look across the way to where the other man sat. "All bloodied up. Smelled pretty rank, too."
"Shit." Gareth answered, trying not to show his concern -- and mostly succeeding. Guilt was sitting heavy on his chest -- the weight mildly oppressive. He took a deep breath, looking down at his hands. "Well you know, when you take care of fuckin' monsters, I guess you got some price to pay." He muttered it, trying to sound convicted instead of worried. "And fuck. I'm sorry you ate that damn hot dog. I told you not to eat it, remember? I offered you some chili. You didn't want it though. Said it smelled like mexican shit." He grunted, and then the waitress was at their side, bringing him his coffee. Gareth didn't hesitate to bring the hot drink to his lips, swallowing several mouthfuls and relishing in the scald, the taste. After a pause, he set the mug down, exhaling. His tongue burned, and he knew everything would taste like rubber for the next few days. Part of him didn't mind that at all. Dusty wasn't enjoying food, so maybe he'd feel a little less guilty if he wasn't enjoying it either. "So... you know. I tried to stop you." He added, and then laughed, tilting his head to scratch at his neck without thought. Gideon's bite marks were healing and it itched a little.
Dusty sighed, watching the waitress when she left... for maybe too long. He followed her, tilting his head and then his body until she was around the corner, finally allowing his eyes to return to Gareth. He was laughing, and it made Dusty smile in turn. He couldn't really help himself. "Yeah, well... you were the one givin' me shit for options. What was I supposed to do? You know I hate... hated chili." He ran a hand over his head, fingers scraping the stubble anxiously. "You know... Ava took me out," he told Gareth, baiting him without giving him any real information.
"She took you out?" Gareth asked immediately, taking the bait the way a well loved dog would jump for a biscuit. "What -- uh, what did you guys talk about... where did you go?" His tone was light, with a demanding undercurrent. "Did... I mean, was she a total bitch to you? Are they makin' you feed off'a other people...?" The questions flowed out of him. Gideon would be happy if Dusty stopped feeding from him -- it meant he'd have another few days or weeks to his life, maybe, but Gareth didn't want Dusty to turn to other people. Because... because Dusty was his best friend. "I wasn't goan ask... cuz... I mean, it's your.... you know, thing... but...." He shook his head. "Everythin' was okay? Right?" He finally had to bite down on his tongue to stop speaking, to let Dusty speak.
Smirking to himself, Dusty's eyes sharpened in on Gareth at the defensive attitude he had immediately displayed. Defensive or protective... he wasn't exactly sure. "She wasn't a bitch to me or nothin', not in a way I couldn't handle or anything. I smacked it right outta her the second she started putting that crap out on the table. I ain't a man for nothin', you know." He gave Gareth a pointed look, doing his best to stay absolutely serious. He had to keep up appearances, after all. "Anyway, we went out flyin'. Flew all over the place. I was like a damn crazy arrow, diving all around the damn place like I'd been born to take to the skies. Just like that." He smacked his hand down on the table and laughed. Gareth didn't need to know the truth of what had actually happened.
Gareth felt a stab of jealousy. It was strong and cold, like an icepick to the chest; an icepick that melted slowly and spread a cold and watery freeze to his gut. He swallowed, reaching for his coffee, and took a long slow drink, hoping to melt that ice. "Oh. So..." Fuck. Flying. He had always wished he could fly. He'd had dreams about it, about the feeling of cold wind on his neck, the breathlessness of the air, the stars burning up in the sky. His jealousy increased and he had to take another drink of his coffee. "So you're just a natural at it?" He asked, and the awe in his voice was inevitable. Awe mixed with a sort of... naive hero worship. Of course Dusty was a natural at flying. The man was brilliant at just about everything he did -- at least in Gareth's eyes. "Was it amazin' D? I mean..." His friend of course knew about his dreams, he'd been having them for as long as he could remember. "What was it like?"
"Of course it was amazing. It was damn near the best thing I ever done in my whole life." Dusty had said it with an assured type of confidence, sitting as tall as it got. He reached out to mess with his hat, fingering the rim of it while chewing at his bottom lip. With one fang jutted out and his jaw to the side, Dusty looked almost comical. "I'd tell you I'd take you up but uhh... that's awful gay, and... well, you know. Guy code and all that shit." He snorted a laugh, preparing to go on when he caught the sight of something he hadn't noticed until now. There was an irritated spot just underneath the shadow of Gareth's collar, a reddened area that he didn't recognize. "What's that?" he asked, the question slightly more sharpened than he'd meant for it to be.
Gareth couldn't help but look crest fallen. The idea of flying was -- yeah. Okay. Incredibly gay. "Oh, yeah, no. No fear man, that's really gay. We, you know, I mean, I don't think I want to be all grabbed at and held onto and shit." He managed a laugh, shaking his head. "What sort of shit would that be? Brokeback Mountain." God damn it. He sighed softly, the room suddenly feeling too chill and reached for his cigarettes, deciding that he definitely needed one. His fingers were closing around the soft crinkled plastic of the pack when Dusty spoke again. "Huh?" He asked, and for a moment he was genuinely confused, his hand slipping off the camel menthols and landing on the table silently. He met his friend's eyes, and realized with a start what Dusty was addressing. He'd forgotten to ask Gideon to cover it up -- and Dusty HAD covered his last bite mark. His hand reached for his neck, then fell to the table again, a nervous gesture. "Oh, uh, you know man, razor burn." He lied, and forced his fingers to move, pulling a cigarette out of the pack in a numb and fumbling way.
"Fuck no it ain't," Dusty said, eyes dangerous as his tone dropped. "Not unless you been shaving your fuckin' clavicals, it ain't." He acted without thinking then, without giving himself enough of a pause to decide to be rational. Reaching out in a violent and aggressive move, Dusty grabbed Gareth by the collar of his button-up and yanked him forward, pulling the other man's body halfway over the top of the table to see the sore spot better. It was only a flash of visibility, the bared skin there and gone as he snagged and then released, but it had been more than enough. Not merely one sore spot, but two, the pair of tiny reddened marks on Gareth's neck familiar enough of a reality for him to never be mistaken as anything else. "What the fuck is that?!" he snapped, demanding to be answered immediately. "Who the fuck you let bite you?!" Jealousy charged through his body too fast for anything else to register and instantly Dusty was standing, a wall of tensed muscles and glaring accusations as he set his jaw. "You fuckin' double-crossin', selfish little shit! I cain't even fuckin' believe you!" He made two fists; one for the blond and one for the fucker that had done this crime.
Gareth was quick. A lifetime of hunting and chasing made him impossibly quick by human standards, but he would never be a match for Dusty. Especially now that his best friend was a vampire. The hand that landed on his collar was too fast for him to react to. As he was lifted and pulled forward -- knocking over his coffee in the process -- he felt a jolt run down his spine. Dusty was within kissing distance, the space between them short, and even as Dusty's eyes filled with rage Gareth's body reacted, heat filling his gut and spiraling down to his cock. He made a soft grunting noise, the rough handling only fueling his body's burn, and when he fell back to the booth, he couldn't meet Dusty's gaze. The table jolted, and Dusty was on his feet, a sight that made Gareth start to panic. They were in public -- but his friend's declaration pulled his thoughts away. "It's none'a your damn business who was bitin' me or not!" he snarled, and rose to his own feet, still not meeting Dusty's gaze. His eyes instead landed on the balled fists at the older man's sides and his brow furrowed in, even as arousal shot through his system like sparks. "I ain't double crossin' nothin!" But.... didn't that feel like a lie on his tongue? It did. He felt like he'd been caught cheating.
There were people staring at them now, the entirety of the restaurant silent as these two men were apparently having a stand-off in public. The waitress who had been walking near them stopped dead in her tracks, mouth open as the words died in her mouth. They seemed dangerous, and she was probably right.
Dusty stepped forward in a rush, the move meant to intimidate, the faces mere inches apart as he stared down his lifetime friend and companion. He felt a mix of so many emotions he wished he could find it in his dead body to vomit them out of him. It was a terrible sensation, and he hated thinking that Gareth had done something like this, had gone against everything they'd fought so hard for all their lives. "You ain't double crossin' nothin'? No? That what you think, Gare?" He growled, fangs bared through his lips as he held his position. He could hear Gareth's heartbeat, but couldn't quite pin the emotions behind it, too angry himself to focus in on something like that. "What the fuck kinda relationship is this?!" he snapped, losing his cool again as he reached to grab his hat. He yanked it off of the table and pushed past Gareth to head outside, intending on taking off when he hit the night air. "You think it's just a-okay if you just do whatever kinda lousy-ass shit you wanna do with any supernatural bastard you meet along the way, don't you?! Where the fuck did you lose your goddamn senses, Gareth? You drop them when we was out drivin' around the other night, or was you already conspiring with fuckin' vampires? You know how we work, Gareth! Ain't no damn excuse for this!"
"It weren't just fuckin' anybody Dusty! FUCK. It was Gideon. Fuckin' Gideon!" Gareth's own fists were balling up, and a sort of hot sickness was filling his gut. He couldn't swallow that feeling back, no matter how hard he tried. He grabbed his cigarettes and followed after Dusty, leaving the restaurant in shambles, coffee dripping down the side of the table and onto the carpeted floor. Dusty's words were striking too hard and too fast. They felt like physical blows, each one hitting him in the stomach, making his knees week and his heart hurt. Once the outside air struck his face he caught up with the older man, body thrumming with guilt. "What the fuck are you on about -- "this relationship" -- Dusty, you fuckin' tell me what kind of relationship it is. I'm a grown fuckin' man! I ain't... I ain't out with just any god damned vampire -- he didn't fuckin' feed from me or... or whatever." His voice was burning with hurt and anger. "He bit me -- what, you think you own me or some god damned shit D?" They reached the truck and he kicked a tire, trying to cover the anxiety he was feeling with rage.
With every last intent of leaving right away, Dusty was yanked back suddenly by Gareth's words, his body stopping to spin around on his heels as he came back. Too fast, too hard, Dusty was in the other man's face again, nose to nose as he spat out his responses. He couldn't contain his anger right now, couldn't even begin to disguise it. "Don't you fuckin' judge ME on our god damn relationship, Gareth! Don't you fuckin' sit there on your high horse and try to tell me I'm the one bein' ridiculous! We kill those fuckers, Gareth! We killed them fuckers for years before all this bullshit happened to us, and now you just... yer just goin' around lettin' people fuckin' bite you for no goddamn reason!" He brought his hat up and jammed it down over his head, the movement pointed. "I know I don't own you, you fuckin' queer. I ain't fuckin' stupid, you ass. But I know when we make pacts, we ain't supposed to break them neither. We don't fuck around with this shit." He turned away from Gareth then, trying to restrain himself from reaching out to throttle the broken-nosed, blond-headed, thick-minded shit of a man. He grabbed at his arms, trying to keep his hands busy if he could manage it. "I don't fuckin' care if it was Gideon or my own goddamn mother, Gareth! Yer slippin'." Dusty turned to point a finger. "Yer gonna end up with yer stupid ass dead, or worse."
Gareth heard every word Dusty said, took it all in, keeping up behind the man. He was overwhelmed by guilt now. Each word the older man said to him rang with truth. He was slipping. He trusted a vampire who wasn't Dusty. Trusted him implicitly. Gideon was even a friend. Abruptly, the anger spilled out of him, seeping from his body like an unused adrenaline rush. He slowed down a little. "It ain't gonna happen again Dusty." He muttered, and his voice was a little defeated. "He said that Luna House bites were like gettin' drunk an'... I don't fuckin know." He took a few more steps before realizing that Dusty had called him a queer again. This time it struck a nerve, and he remembered how he'd frantically begged Gideon to convince him that he wasn't. That had been of no use. Gideon knew the truth and so did he. And it was awful. He reached out then, grabbing Dusty's arm and yanking it, trying to turn him around. "Stop fuckin' callin' me gay Dusty. You know I ain't! I ain't no god damned queer!"
Out of all of the things Gareth had chosen to focus on, Dusty was straight-up surprised by what he was being called out over. His sharp gaze narrowed in on Gareth, dancing between the other man's emotion-filled eyes to try and read his expression. He shook his head and stepped in close to Gareth, one hand coming up to grip the other man by his shoulder. It was harder than he'd meant for it to be, but it was all he could do not to break bones. As it was, Gareth would be walking away from this confrontation with a good-sized bruise and would do well to feel lucky about that. "Look," Dusty growled, teeth grinding together in frustration, "I ain't fuckin' stupid, Gareth. And you ain't no goddamn straight man, neither. Yer gay just as whiskey is hard t'swallow."
Gareth stared at Dusty, his eyes wide, mouth falling slightly ajar. He couldn't take his eyes off those hypnotically blue ones, couldn't breathe or even think properly. "I--" What Dusty just said... suddenly the air seemed to leave him entirely. The coast of his heart suddenly started to tilt on the fault line upon which it was built. He could feel a trembling that started in his fingers, a minute coldness as that same heart, shaken from it's ground, fell into the ocean of his stomach. There was a splash, a painful sinking in the pit of his gut that told him every card was on the table now, and he'd come up with a pair of threes. "I ain't gay Dusty." But it was weak, there was no conviction behind his words, nothing in his tone but defeat. "I ain't." And why couldn't he shake that tremble out of his voice? Convince himself and his best friend otherwise? Why did he sound so... lost?
Dusty licked his lips, shaking his head as Gareth gave the weakest defense he had ever heard in his life. There was no way he was going to change his opinion, not after so many years. "Yeah you is, Gareth. Yer fuckin' gay an' there ain't no other way to put it." He let go and stepped away from him, a few feet put between them as he reached up to straighten his hat. He pulled it down over his forehead slightly, a frown firmly set in place. "You cain't tell me nothin' else. I known for a long time."
Gareth was left without words, but his head dropped, hanging shamefully. "Okay..." He felt his throat constricting, the airway tightening until it was almost impossible to breathe. Dusty knew. Dusty had always known. Fuck. So what was all the show for then? Himself. Mostly. "I..." He could feel tears threatening -- tears of defeat and rage and despair -- and held them back. "So, I'm gay, an' you know, an' I know... an'... so what now?" He managed to get out, still not looking up. He was ashamed of himself. He was a fucking freak, at least by the standards he and Dusty had set, and he knew there wasn't anything he could do about it. Without thinking, he moved, making his way to the truck, fumbling into the passenger seat without waiting for Dusty to reply. "Does anything change?"
Watching as Gareth moped around over what had been said, Dusty considered his options. He didn't know what to do right now, simply shrugging when he was asked what they were supposed to do about it. It wasn't like he could make Gareth feel any different. If he'd been that way all their life... He followed him into the truck when the blond man moved, hopping up into the driver side without any effort involved. Dusty slammed the door shut behind him and sighed, arm crooked, elbow on the windowsill and his hand to his face. "I don't know," he finally grunted. It was an awkward position to be put in. They had just lived their lives together since they were kids, years and years of history that couldn't be erased easily. Knowing somebody was gay in the back of your mind was different than speaking it aloud, and for men with backgrounds like theirs, Dusty didn't know what to do with himself. He was still furious about the bite mark, but there wasn't anything more he could say on the matter -- nothing he hadn't already let loose on. "We cain't sleep together no more, I guess," he told Gareth, shaking his head as he turned the engine on. He started pulling the truck out of the parking lot, sending a glance toward the other man. "You know, in the same bed or whatever."
If Gareth's night wasn't already going badly, it took a turn for the worse when Dusty spoke. They had shared a bed for years with no comment or complaint, and Gareth had never realized before just how much that minorly shared space meant to him. It had always comforted him to have Dusty only inches away -- and if that was his homosexuality at play then he would never admit it. Even as kids they'd slept on his bed together -- on Dusty's he always slept on the floor, to be safe but... Now he couldn't help the panic stricken look that crossed his features -- though he wasn't looking at Dusty, his face hidden under the shadow of his hat. "But... I mean, if I've always been this way D... why would that have to change?" And yet he knew he couldn't put up too much of a fight on the matter. To argue with Dusty about sharing a bed directly after being outed only made HIM look more gay. "I..." ain't goan try and fuck you, he thought but didn't say.
Dusty let silence descend between them as he started driving them home, still furious about the bite marks, about the fact that Gideon's teeth had sank down into Gareth's flesh. Something about it was fucking aggravating, like he himself had been bitten, taken advantage of. He wasn't mad at Gideon, not really... mostly it was directed toward Gareth for letting it happen to begin with. It wasn't right and it wasn't fair. He wasn't prepared to compromise his morals anymore than he'd already had to this month, and not ready to start right now. "We'll jus' take turns sleepin' on the couch, or you can get a damn futon so at least we can be comfy. I ain't done bein' mad at you, you asshole."
"Yeah." Gareth answered quietly, but in his heart of hearts he knew Dusty was right. The older man had every right to be furious -- he himself would be if Dusty came home bragging that he'd fed off someone. "I-- okay. You can have the bed tonight." His voice was weak and he knew that as soon as they were out of the truck the tears would threaten sincerely. Fuck. Why did everything have to come down around them now? He was starting to wonder if this damned city was cursed. Maybe tomorrow the entire subject of his homosexuality would be forgotten. He could hope so anyway.
The rest of the ride back to the trailer, both men sat in total silence, neither happy and nothing but stress hanging over their heads. Dusty pulled the truck in next to their trailer and cut the engine, climbing out without a word to the other man. He headed to the trailer immediately, intending on getting inside and finding some kind of entertainment for himself to keep him from wanting to rip Gareth a new asshole. The other man was lucky Dusty weren't a more prejuduiced man, considering everything that had gone down between them. He was keeping up appearances between them, and he was angry, but the gay thing... Honestly, he didn't really even care. It didn't make Gareth less of a man, not really... maybe a little bit, but it didn't warrant a change in their friendship. Had he not been so angry before the confrontation about Gareth's sexuality, Dusty may have been less judgmental. As it was, he couldn't go back on what he'd said without looking stupid himself. He wasn't prepared to do that.
Gareth watched Dusty make towards the house -- he didn't have to be a psychic to read the anger and aggression in the older man's stance. Damn it. Taking a deep breath, the slipped out of the cab of the truck and glanced over towards Gideon's trailer. If Dusty didn't want him in the bed then maybe... "Goin' for a walk D." He called through the night air, and winced at how rough his voice sounded, the rasp of it. At least he hadn't coughed up more blood lately. His fainting spell that morning had been frightening as hell and he didn't want to have another secret pulled from him tonight. Fumbling for the cigarettes in his pocket, he found himself recalling what Dusty had said about their pact being broken, and a fresh wave of guilt washed over him. Shit. Shit shit and fuck. "See you later." It was mumbled as he stuck the cigarette between his lips and began searching for his lighter. One thing was certain. He wasn't going to be asking Gideon to drink from him again.