RORY (betmylife) wrote in shadows_rpg, @ 2021-02-18 09:26:00 |
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Entry tags: | #june 2018, rory, rory x wes, wes |
Who: Rory and Wes
When: Night, Saturday, June 2nd
Where: Their place on Ludlow
Status: Complete
After months of it now, Wes had concluded that this life of hiding out in a tiny-ass Maine town was ... well, it was pretty boring. He felt safe enough, at least from the people who actively wanted them dead. The town itself could be weird in a way that gave him unsettling dreams sometimes, but things had been fairly quiet through the spring, and he didn’t expect that to change anytime soon. He was just happy it wasn’t winter anymore, and his largely-outdoor job wasn’t as miserable as it had been in January.
Wes had had a long day of it, even though it was Saturday. The municipal maintenance crew didn’t really get full weekends off, only Sundays for sure. Wes had been happy to see on the schedule that he had Sunday and Monday both, two in a row was a nice surprise, and he was looking forward to putting his feet up for a full forty-eight hours. There weren’t many workers, and there was always a lot to do. Today had been no different, and had included cleaning up some big and gross roadkill for Wes, so he had picked up a case of beer and a pizza on his way home, determined to relax even if Rory was bored. Rory hadn’t had to scrape deer guts up off the road.
It was getting kind of late, and Wes was almost happily drunk, lounging on the couch and watching TV. He wasn’t quite where he wanted to be yet, intoxication wise, so he groaned a bit getting up to his feet. “You want one?” Wes asked Rory as he shuffled toward the kitchen.
It was weird how quiet their life had become and some days Rory itched for something more exciting. He didn't need or want anything like the adrenaline-inducing, fear-laden car chase across the country, but a night of drunken revelry at a club might be nice. Maybe with sex in the back room, riding a high, knowing someone could walk in at any moment. Point Pleasant was too small for that though; neither of the bars came close to the clubs he was used to and he didn't really want to risk getting thrown out of them. Not that he thought Wes would be on board for that kind of fun. It was a bit over the top. It was unfortunate that Wes wasn't into girls because a trip to Cherries might've been fun, if only for the eye candy. Rory wasn't interested in anything else.
He could settle for pizza and beer though. If he drank enough, they could still have wild sex on the living room floor. Wes always left him satisfied, so it seemed like a good enough plan, though it definitely required another drink. "Sure," he smiled, stretching out on the couch as Wes headed into the kitchen. He'd been lazy today, as he typically was when Wes was working and he was home alone, but that didn't mean he couldn't be lazy now as well.
Wes grabbed two fresh beer bottles from the fridge and opened them up, then headed back into the living room. He was trying not to get too sleepy, because fooling around with Rory after a long day was just as relaxing as getting drunk, and he wanted to be awake enough for it. One more beer ought to do it, he thought, then they could have a good time playing with each other and Wes could pass out afterward. It was such a domesticated existence, he sometimes felt like it wasn’t his life anymore, and he was just watching it from somewhere else. Wes handed Rory his beer, then lifted his man’s legs up and sat down under them, settling them in his lap. He took a swallow from his beer and glanced over at Rory as he snuck one hand up his pant leg to touch his skin.
“Thanks, babe,” Rory grinned, taking a sip of his beer as Wes resituated himself on the couch. This was definitely far more domestic than he was used to, but he enjoyed it more than he thought he would, mostly because of Wes. He might be bored of sitting around, but he wasn’t at all bored of his man. It still gave him warm fuzzies to think about Wes like that, as his man. They didn’t really talk about their relationship, but it was a given at this point. Funny how he’d have to be on the lam to find the longest relationship he’d ever been in. “You can go a little higher if you want,” he teased. Ankles were fairly chaste, but it wasn’t like calves were a huge turn on. What he wanted was Wes’s hand between his legs, but it would get there eventually. Neither of them were in a huge hurry and sometimes drawing it out could be fun.
In Wes’s mind, none of it really needed to be discussed. They’d started out as accidental fugitives, then become reluctant partners, then desperate fuckbuddies, and now they were ... something else. Wes didn’t feel comfortable with the word ‘love,’ it wasn’t anything he’d ever had much of in his life and it was such a heavy word in society ... but Rory could get his heart beating faster with just a look. His laugh always made Wes smile. He couldn’t think about anything bad happening to Rory -- or even the two of them going separate ways -- without getting upset. He was the only one Wes wanted to talk to at the end of a long day. What else could that mean? He told himself that Rory knew how he felt, and that was enough. He tossed a crooked grin over at Rory. “Oh yeah? Like ... here?” he murmured, only moving his fingers up an inch or two. He tugged lightly at some of Rory’s leg hair, just to be a dick. “You like that, baby?”
“Ow, shit,” Rory laughed, jerking his leg back reflexively before laying it back down again. “I know I like it rough sometimes, but that’s a little much,” he teased, taking a sip of his beer. It was nice being this comfortable with someone, to trust them as implicitly as he trusted Wes. Rory didn’t need to talk about what they were, so long as they still seemed to be on the same page. Right now things were easy and Rory hoped they stayed that way. He might want more excitement in his day to day life, but he didn’t want things to change between him and Wes. He wanted to fall asleep in that man’s arms every night more than anything in the world. Rory snuggled down, then bent his knees so he could rub his foot up Wes’s thigh, then over his crotch. “You don’t have a foot fetish, do you?”
Wes giggled -- a sound he really only made when he was drinking -- and put his cold beer bottle against Rory’s foot to chase it away from his crotch. “Absolutely not,” he said, still grinning. He never minded any part of Rory touching any part of him, but feet did nothing for him in the sexy department. Wes put the bottle to his lips and tipped it up to drain most of it down in one go, then sat forward to set it down on the coffee table. He turned and helped himself to rearranging Rory’s legs so they were spread wide so he could crawl over him. “This has nothing to do with your hairy toes, by the way,” he murmured as he settled his weight against Rory. Wes smirked a bit before he kissed him, feeling nicely lightheaded and uninhibited now.
“Heeeey,” Rory snickered, drawing his feet away from the cold beer bottle, then tucking them against Wes’s leg for warmth. He took another sip of his beer, then raised a brow as Wes finished his off, causing him to follow suit. It fueled the buzz he’d been working on and he knew it wouldn’t be long now until he felt nicely drunk. It was a perfect way to spend a Saturday night and he grinned as Wes spread his legs and climbed on top of him, eager to start something up. “My toes are not hairy,” he said. “And, even if they are, I’m groomed everywhere that counts.” The kiss was expected and Rory smiled against his lips. The wildest thing they might do tonight was have sex on the couch while the shades were open, but Rory decided that was all the excitement he needed for now.
There were times that Wes was bored with their laying-low domesticity too, but it was never when he was laying on top of Rory. Deep down he was happy to give up that adrenaline-fueled life of a low-ranking mob soldier for this sort of comfort and safety and consistent source of affection. They might not talk much about their relationship, but Wes knew it was having a positive effect on him. He felt like he loathed himself less these days, and felt more settled inside in general. That was probably co-dependent or something, but he didn’t care. It felt good. He felt good, more often than not now; occasional boredom was easy enough to deal with. He especially felt good now, and Wes deepened their kiss easily, enjoying the distinctive taste of Rory underneath the beer. He shifted his arms to tangle fingers in Rory’s hair, letting that warmth build between them.
The outside world melted away when Wes was on top of him, the warm and fuzzy feelings attributed more to his presence than the beer. Rory knew he had a number of vices that could get him into trouble, but Wes wasn’t one of them. He had the opposite impact, often diverting Rory’s attention from potential trouble or squashing it completely. It was a feat easily achieved with a kiss and a grind of his hips, though Rory knew it went deeper than that, even if they didn’t talk about it. They didn’t need to. Rory groaned softly into the kiss, enjoying the hands in his hair, and let his own slide down to Wes’s hips. He was just starting to grope Wes’s ass when a scream of terror shattered the moment, forcing Rory out of the happy little daze from which he’d settled. “Shit,” he muttered as he pushed at Wes, panic rising for the first time in months.
Wes was very happily occupied with Rory’s mouth and the warm rush of blood into his groin, well on the way to being turned on and ready to start peeling off clothes, when the peace was pierced by a sharp scream from outside. It sounded like it had come from right under their living room window, and it made his whole body jerk. His first instinct was to press down against Rory harder, like he could protect him by covering his body, but then he registered the pushing and realized they needed to move. With a breathy “what the fuck,” Wes got up and off his boyfriend and hurried for where they kept a pistol stashed in the living room, just in case. He half-crouched low like bullets might start flying through the window at any second, wincing as another sharp and loud scream sounded.
It just went to show how ill prepared Rory sometimes was for the life he’d been leading when his first thought wasn’t to get the gun. He crawled to the window, wanting to see what the fuck was happening outside, but a glance towards Wes reminded him that they could be targets. This could be an attempt to draw them out. If that was the case, Rory wasn’t going to make it that easy, but then flinched when the scream came again, this time followed by a blood-curdling cry for help. Rory tensed as his blood ran cold, the familiarity of that voice bringing on a wave of fear and panic. “They’ve found us,” he gasped, eyes wide as he looked back at Wes. That was the only explanation for why she would be here of all places, screaming right outside their window. The question that remained was if they were torturing her to get to him, or if she was out for his blood like the rest of them.
Wes had never been a soldier, but he’d been thrust into a lot of life-threatening situations in his career as a criminal, and he liked to think he had a tactical mind sometimes. He found the gun and got it loaded as he stayed down low, squatting on the floor, instinct keeping him out of the line of the window. He heard Rory, but his brain was already two or three steps ahead -- of course they’d found them. That was the only explanation that made sense for there to be a shrieking woman outside their house. Wes waddle-crawled over to the table beside the couch and reached up to click the lamp off. “Turn the goddamn TV off,” he hissed to Rory, who happened to be closer to the remote. They needed to go dark and silent and move rooms and try to see what was going on outside. The familiarity of the screaming voice hadn’t hit him yet, but it sounded like an older woman to him, a bit hoarse and desperate in a way that gave him chills.
Up until he’d gone on the run with Wes, Rory had done a decent job of staying out of life threatening situations. He’d gotten in sticky ones, ones that had potential to become serious issues, but no outright gun fights. Turning off the TV didn’t even occur to him until Wes pointed it out and he dove for the remote, trying to keep below the window line as he grabbed it and turned the damned thing off. The next thing he knew they were plunged into darkness and Wes was dragging him out of the living room, into the spare that had windows opening towards the noise. Rory moved as quick as he could in the darkness, his eyes still adjusting and his heart pounding as the screams for help came again. It seemed like they were louder now that there was no competing sound and Rory brought his fingers to his ears as he prayed it would stop. Would they really kill her just to get to him? Would they? It seemed unfathomable, yet he couldn’t imagine that the screams were faked. “I can’t let them kill her,” he whispered, his skin crawling as his sister screeched again. God almighty, it sounded like they were skinning her alive or something. Something awful, that much he was certain.
Wes hadn’t heard any shots or anything yet, but the sound of his speeding pulse had filled his ears, so maybe the only thing cutting through was the screaming. He dragged Rory from the living room through the dark, keeping bent over low, his breathing light and quick. They didn’t keep their curtains open, especially not after dark, so he wasn’t too worried about being picked off by a sniper now that there was no backlighting, but just in case he wanted a different vantage point. A particularly shrieky cry sounded again as he hurried to the window of the spare room, and Wes flinched. That tug of something familiar in the back of his mind started to suggest an answer, but it was so far-fetched that he couldn’t entertain it yet. Someone was just torturing an old lady outside, it couldn’t be his old lady, could it? Gun gripped tight, Wes knelt at the corner of the window and moved the curtains to the side just enough to peer out. “I don’t see anything,” he whispered to Rory after a second, his neck craning from one side to the other as he searched for any sign of anything through the window.
Rory didn’t know why he was so sure he knew the owner of the voice. It wasn’t like he’d ever witnessed or overheard someone torture his sister, so he had nothing specific to go on. But there was a gut feeling that said he was right, that she was there, and that she was in pain because of him. And he was hiding like a fucking coward. Rory was breathing hard, his beating frantically as he sought out his own gun, unable to continue unarmed. He’d never actually shot someone, but tonight might be the night, especially if this turned into a standoff. “She’s got to be out there,” Rory whispered. “Sounds like she’s right below the fuckin’ window.” And someone would have to be with her, forcing those cries out of her. His eyes turned towards the bedroom door, gun at the ready in case someone barged through it, but there was no movement except for the heaving of their chests. No sound but for their breathing and the terrible screams. “You don’t see anything?” Rory asked, tempted to look for himself. This was the sort of thing that should wake the neighbors, even on their side of town.
Wes had half expected to see a full cadre of dark vehicles blocking their driveway, crowding the street, penning them in, with his poor mother strapped to the hood of one while some asshole hurt her over and over again. His stomach felt riotous and sick as he heard another scream. But there was nothing but the darkened front lawn and the street beyond it, even though his ears were telling him exactly what Rory was -- she had to be there, right outside the window. “You look, stay low, I’m gonna check the other sides of the house,” he said quietly, moving away and letting the curtains fall back into place. Maybe it was a recording, meant to lure them out of the house? The idea didn’t bring much comfort. If it was a tape, his mother was surely dead. Wes paused on his way out the door to grab hold of Rory’s arm, his gaze hard and intense as he stared at him. “Whatever you hear, do not go outside,” he whispered urgently, totally unaware that Rory had put his own identification onto the screaming. “Promise me.” In that heart-pounding moment, even through what he was hearing outside, Wes knew he could not lose Rory, and he would if his man set foot out the door.
Rory didn't like being told what to do. He never had and he never would. But when it was a matter of life and death, he wouldn't defy someone's request just to prove he could and it helped that he had absolutely zero desire to go outside. Even looking out the window felt like a gamble, and not the sort he enjoyed. "Promise," he agreed with a hush, then before Wes could leave he caught hold of him. "You too." The last thing he needed was Wes thinking he could handle this on his own, that he could somehow save Rory again by going out guns blazing. He was pretty sure the only reason they'd survived the last time was that Wes had the element of surprise. Not even Rory had expected him to betray the Genovese family. But this time they were the ones caught off guard and cornered and the only advantage they had was that they were on their own turf. It made Rory wish they'd dug a tunnel out beneath the house, Shawshank style. Rory swallowed hard as Wes left his side, then quickly moved to the window, peeking out into the night. He expected to have the glass shatter at any moment, to see his father waiting, pointing a gun at his head, but there was nothing--just another piercing scream out in the darkness.
Wes wasn’t going out either unless he felt like he had to. He didn’t know what it would take for him to feel that way, but he had the sense he was going to find out tonight. Instead of promising out loud, he just nodded to Rory’s words and turned to hurry out of the room. He was on high alert as he moved further down the hall, heart pounding in his ears, ready to hear glass crashing and mob thugs invading the house to overrun them. How had the Genoveses found them? For fuck’s sake, they were in the middle of nowhere, using fake IDs ... had it been because they’d gotten jobs? Where had they fucked up? Fuck, he felt sick. What if all he’d done for Rory was prolong the inevitable? For both of them? Wes tried not to think about it, tried to focus on what he had to do, and slipped into another spare room to peek through the curtains. He still couldn’t see anything outside, but the screaming was still going on, only it sounded further away now. Cursing under his breath, Wes moved rooms again.
Rory hadn’t thought his adrenaline could spike any higher, but when Wes left the room he got so hyped up that his hands were shaking. He’d only been concerned for his own life the last time they’d been in a sticky situation, but that had all changed over the last few months. Now the threat of Wes getting shot was akin to him taking a bullet himself. It pained him to even think about it, and it was all made worse when his man was out of sight, creeping around the house for a better view of their attackers. The house wasn’t at all fortified against this kind of threat, and why should it be? They never expected to be caught, not after all this time. To be drawn out like this, fearing for their lives, was worse than if they’d taken a bullet to the brain while dozing on the couch. The scream came again and Rory thumped his head against the wall, gritting his teeth. How long could that go on before she passed out from the pain? It was a horrible thought, but he almost wished it would happen soon.
He tried to be quick about it, moving from room to room around the house, but it felt like it took forever. Wes even quickly mounted the steps in his bare feet to peek out of the upstairs windows, but he still saw nothing but their empty yards and the neighbors’ houses on either side. Was he hallucinating? No, because Rory heard it too, obviously. Was there something fucked up and tainted about the beer they’d been drinking? Wes’s head was swimming with panic and alcohol and even more panic, and when his mother screamed again, this time it was for him. She called his name in a drawn-out, desperate cry for help. If he could just fucking see them, he felt like he could handle this better, but there was nothing. Really starting to freak out now, Wes thundered back down the stairs to the first floor and rushed to the room he’d left Rory in. “Did you hear that?” he asked, breathlessly. “They’ve got my fucking mom, Ror, I gotta ... I can’t fucking see anything, even upstairs, I gotta go out there --”
Rory jumped when Wes re-entered the room, glad that his gun hadn’t been pointed at the door. He hadn’t fired it, but with as wound up as he currently was it would’ve been far too easy to do so reflexively. Once he calmed down enough to hear what Wes was saying, he frowned, brows drawn together in confusion. “They’ve got your mom, too?” he asked, wondering how his family had come across that bit of information. Unless it was the Genovese… but would they truly be fools enough to take his sister? That would start an all out war between the families. None of it made sense and the last thing they needed was Wes running out into the night until they could get a handle on what they were dealing with. “You can’t go out there. Did you see her? Are you sure it’s her? All I’ve heard is Kate—” Before he could say another word, she screamed again, this time putting his name into the mix, begging, pleading, and Rory put one hand to his ear, praying for it to stop.
Wes wouldn’t have noticed the ‘too’ on the end of Rory’s question if he hadn’t said his sister’s name, and the way he winced and put a hand to his ear was ... strange. Wes hadn’t heard anything that time. It was impossible to process at that very second though. “No, I couldn’t see shit,” he said, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Kate? What are you talking about?” Wes knew of Rory’s sister, and she definitely didn’t sound like an old woman. And Wes had distinctly heard his name. Something panicky in his chest started to harden into a protective shell. “Somebody’s fucking with us,” he growled through his teeth, anger rushing up to take over from the fear. “I didn’t see anybody at all, so they don’t have us cornered. Fuck this, man.” Wes turned to stalk out of the room again, heading for the back door, intent on going out to look for himself, in spite of what he’d cautioned Rory against moments earlier. Wes was pissed now, confused and pissed, and he wanted to see what was really out there.
“My sister, Kate, it sounds like they’re fucking torturing her,” Rory said, his own frustration with the situation growing. The whole situation felt off, but sitting down and figuring it out wasn’t something they had time for. People could come barging through the door at any moment, people with guns that wouldn’t hesitate to blow their heads off. There could be snipers outside, an extreme that didn’t really match the situation, but was still very possible. He agreed with Wes on one thing for sure—someone was fucking with them. But that didn’t mean he was okay with him walking into the line of fire. Rory rushed after him and grabbed his arm, attempting to hold him back. “Where the fuck are you going?” he demanded. “They’ll kill you if you walk out there.” He didn’t like being cornered either, and it made him feel like a pussy to hide, but it was worth his pride to avoid getting shot.
Wes should have predicted that Rory would try to stop him, but he wasn’t exactly thinking clearly at the moment. He was furious because that was easier than being terrified, and he just couldn’t think about potential deadly consequences applying to himself. He jerked his arm out of Rory’s grasp. “It’s my mom, they’re killing my fucking mom,” he snapped. Wes had heard what Rory said about Kate, but he couldn’t process that they might be hearing different things. The screams were so loud and desperate, how could Rory hear it wrong? It didn’t make sense. “Stay here,” he barked, turning again to head for the door. There would be places to take cover outside, right? He hadn’t been able to see anyone through the windows, maybe they were all lined up against the edges of the house or hiding with snipers somewhere else or ... fuck, would they even go to all that trouble? Wes couldn’t think straight through the haze of rage that had descended on him.
“And they’ll kill you too if you go out there,” Rory snapped right back at Wes. He got it, it was cowardly to stay in while they tortured people they loved, but he had a hard time believing they would stop the second Wes walked out that door. If they were willing to stoop that low, they’d just kill her rather than have her as a witness. “Are you sure it’s her? ‘Cause all I hear is Kate. The more I think about it, the more I wonder if it’s just a recording and they’re already dead.” He hated that thought, but it made a lot more sense than someone actively torturing his sister out on the lawn. Both his family and the Genovese family would go to great lengths to make sure they paid for their crimes, but they weren’t usually that stupid about it. His family would have never killed in the open and would have never attacked one of their own unless they deserved it. Rory did, Kate didn’t.
It was such a bizarre way to try and lure them out of the house, when they could’ve just rung the doorbell or broken down the door and barged in, Wes didn’t know if he could honestly consider that possibility. It wasn’t like he and Rory had fortified this house or anything, they’d actually gotten quite comfortable and relaxed. The Genoveses were cruel bastards, but this seemed so strange. And he hadn’t seen anything through any of the windows. If they had a recording that loud and clear of screams, where were the neighbors? Surely someone would’ve called the cops by now. Wes heard Rory but he couldn’t really process what he was saying, unable to understand how they could be hearing different voices. “Stay here,” he repeated as he kept walking. Rory was worth so much more than he was, Rory needed to stay safe. But Wes felt this wouldn’t stop until he did something about it, so he stormed toward the back door in the kitchen. He at least had the presence of mind not to throw it open and rage his way outside. Instead he peeked through the curtains, jaw clenched, then unlocked and eased it open to stick his head out and look from side to side. Nobody was hovering around the door, everything looked utterly quiet and still and normal. Wes crouched low and moved outside, pistol at the ready, listening hard for any voices.
Fear took a back seat to anger as Wes headed towards the door and Rory all but ignored the request to stay there, unwilling to sit around and do nothing while Wes got himself shot. He stopped just short of the door, self preservation rearing up, and listened for sounds of an altercation outside. If Wes got himself killed, Rory knew he wouldn’t last much longer himself. He liked to think that he’d pull the trigger if it meant saving his own hide, but he’d never done any more than wave a gun around. For most people, that was enough. His heart raced as he waited, every second that ticked back winding him tighter, until the scream came again and Rory found it impossible to stay. He cracked the door open, then stood back, waiting for someone to shoot in, and when that didn’t happen, he peered out into the night. Just like Wes had said, there was no one around, nothing that indicated anyone was there, and when the screaming stopped he began to question whether he was hearing it at all. If it wasn’t for Wes, he’d have thought he was losing his mind.
A minute or so after he was outside, Wes heard another of his mother’s anguished cries, but it sounded like it was coming from further away. Were they trying to lure him somewhere else? Why not just mow him down where he was on the back porch, hunkered down near the iron deck furniture he and Rory had inherited with the house. Besides the scream, Wes couldn’t hear or see anything unusual. He left the porch and started to make his way around the house, sticking close to the siding, in the shadows as much as he could be. The sound of Rory opening the door again behind him gave Wes a start, but he couldn’t fool around with him at the moment. Wes slipped around the corner of the house. Then the next corner. Then another one. By the time he was circling around to the back again, he was walking swiftly, gun down, not even trying to hide anymore. “There’s nobody here,” he said once he spotted Rory again, his voice still quiet but angry. “Nowhere.”
Rory wanted to leave, to go search for himself, but he also recognized the foolishness of abandoning his post. If they were both outside, then someone could so easily slip inside unnoticed. Then they’d just wait for them to come back and have the cover of the house to torture them. So instead Rory waited, looking out into the darkness, expecting to be taken down any second. It was dead quiet between the screams, making every little noise seem amplified, even his breathing. Rory swung his gun towards Wes as he rounded the corner, his tall silhouette that of a man in control, not one hunkering down and afraid. It was such a change from the man who’d walked out the door that Rory wasn’t sure he was him and only lowered the gun when he spoke. “Nowhere?” he asked, unable to believe it. If someone was fucking with them, then it was time for the punchline. Rory should have been happy to be left hanging, but he didn’t like the mystery. It’d been months since he’d been this shaken up and he wanted to know why. This time when Kate screamed it was back behind him, from the other side of the house, and Rory spun to look that direction. “Come on,” he said, marching in the direction of the screaming. “If someone’s fuckin’ with us, I wanna know who.”
It was telling that Rory pointing a gun in his direction didn’t even faze Wes at the moment. He still had no real idea what was happening, but he was angry about it, the buzz from the beer they’d been drinking all night morphing into an ugly feeling in his body. He was confused and scared too, but at the moment anger was winning out, and maybe that was a good thing. He didn’t hear whatever Rory heard, but Wes didn’t try to stop him and keep him inside this time, following his man back into the shadows, gun held at the ready. If Genovese or whoever was out there wanted to take them down, they would have to do it in a fucking firefight.
Rory continued solidly in the direction of the screams, expecting to stumble across his dying sister any second. They continued on for another few seconds, then stopped abruptly, leaving Rory standing in the middle of the street with a gun in his hand, ready to shoot anyone who posed a threat. Except there was no one, and he was as vulnerable as he’d ever be, the flickering streetlight making him an easy target. He should have been scared, but like Wes the fear that he’d started with was quickly morphing into anger. What the fuck was happening? Breathing hard, he looked back at Wes. “You hear anything?” he asked, expecting to hear it again any second.
Wes’s head was swiveling around, his jaw set tight, every nerve on high alert. He felt ready to shoot any motherfucker who approached them, enemy or neighbor, so it was probably good it was late and the street looked empty. Which was weird all by itself, now that he was looking around. He and Rory seemed to be hearing different screams, but the lack of neighbors out trying to find the source of them was suspicious as hell. Those had been awful, gut-wrenching, someone-being-killed screams, and not a soul had come out to investigate? The mob hadn’t murdered the whole block in their beds, right? Fuck, this got weirder and creepier by the second. Wes shot Rory a wary glance and shook his head. “Nothing,” he muttered. He waited for another minute or two, straining his ears to hear anything at all, but got nothing but the regular night sounds. No screams, no rushing attack from their enemies, nada. Wes licked his lips, then touched Rory’s arm. “C’mon, let’s ... you should call your sister. See if she picks up.”
It seemed unfathomable that there be nothing, that all of the shock and drama would just disappear, but that appeared to be exactly what was happening. If it was kids pulling a prank, perhaps the appearance of men with guns had scared them off, yet Rory didn’t believe that the local teens could’ve escaped without even a sound. The streets were deserted in both directions, the cars all cold and quiet. If someone was there with them, watching them, they were smart enough not to move or else get shot. Rory lowered his gun and nodded, then began walking back towards the house, all senses still on alert. Whatever was out there, it couldn’t have gotten far. It could still see them. “You think that’s a good idea?” Their phones were supposed to be untraceable, but he still worried. They’d gone this long without being found that he wasn’t sure if he should risk it or not.
“I don’t know, Ror,” Wes answered, the words more snappish than he meant them to be. “I don’t know anything.” Whether Rory called his sister or not, Wes was going to call his mother, consequences be damned. If he got no answer? He might throw some things in a bag and go try to find out what happened to her. If she did pick up ... well, then Wes didn’t know what he would do. He didn’t know anything, like he’d said, he was just running on instinct now. The best way to survive might be just to lock the house up tight and hunker down and wait, but he didn’t feel like he could keep his sanity without knowing if his mom was alive or dead. As they approached the front door of their house again, Wes stopped and put a hand on Rory’s chest. “I should check inside first,” he muttered. “In case somebody came in behind us, yeah?”
Rory bristled at Wes’s tone, but didn’t have a snappy answer back, so he just stewed in silence instead. He’d call his sister and if his father showed up next week to strangle him, then they’d just have to deal with it. At least they wouldn’t have to deal with the Genoveses in that case. They’d be out of their minds to try and bug Kate’s phone. But that brought him back to the main issue, which was why either family would hurt her in the first place. His inability to explain it all made him want to hit something and he pushed past Wes when he tried to hold him back at the door. “Fuck that,” he muttered. “If they went through all that trouble to draw us out, just so they could get us when we come back in, they can have me. I wanna meet the fucker.”
Radiating pissiness and disapproval, Wes followed him inside. He couldn’t believe their cozy and soon-to-be sexy evening had been interrupted with this utter bullshit. Wes didn’t like being confused and unsettled, and he really didn’t like fighting with Rory. As he walked in the house some of that alert-tension came back, but Wes didn’t really think anybody would be in there. He broke away from Rory to check other rooms in the downstairs, opening closets to peek inside just in case. By the time he was headed upstairs to look, Wes wasn’t even lifting his gun anymore. The house was empty. With a sigh, he sat down on the edge of their bed and leaned forward to put his face in his hands. Wes was wired and exhausted at the same time now, his head still spinny from the beer and the adrenaline, and there was nowhere for any of that to go. His phone was downstairs and he wanted to call his mom, but at the same time he didn’t want to move. Just another minute.
Rory went room to room downstairs, waving his gun around at people that weren’t there. He didn’t bother checking closets because he just couldn’t fathom someone sneaking into their house and hiding after all that bullshit. It would’ve been easier to sneak in from the get go and catch them off guard. It wasn’t like they’d been keeping watch. Now he was all wound up with no one to take his anger out on except Wes, who he knew didn’t really deserve it. Rory plopped down on the couch and picked up his phone, holding it in his hand for a few minutes before dialing his sister’s number. It would be late there, but it wasn’t like he was looking to talk. He just wanted to hear her voice. When Rory hit the call button his stomach flipped and he felt so sick he thought he might vomit as he waited for her to answer. Then, right before it went to voicemail, she was there, clearly annoyed, but alive. Rory listened to her say hello until she hung up in irritation, then continued to stare at the phone afterwards. She was alive. Whomever that had been calling for him through pain and agony, it wasn’t her. There was relief, but also a fresh spike of fear, that he’d now threatened this safe little bubble that they’d created. Maybe. He couldn’t imagine Kate going through the effort of trying to trace the call. With that over and done with, Rory went to the fridge to retrieve another bottle of beer, then noticed Wes’s phone on the kitchen counter.
“Call her,” Rory said as he dropped Wes’s phone on the bed beside him. He set a fresh bottle of beer on the bedside table, then took a swig of his own. “Kate answered. She sounded groggy and pissed, but alive and well. Call your mom.” He didn’t know what would come of it, but if Kate was alive, then he was willing to bet the same would be true of Wes’s mother. He also doubted Wes would get any sleep until he knew the truth.
Wes didn’t look up until Rory said that Kate had answered, and then his head jerked up in surprise. It made the room spin a bit more, but he tried to push through that to focus. “What, you got a hold of her?” he asked, even though Rory had already answered that question. He snatched his phone up and unlocked it. “What the fuck ...” Wes muttered as he found his mother’s number in his scant contacts. There was no call history, because he hadn’t talked to her since they’d fled their awful situation. The less she knew about his whereabouts, the safer she was. Wes hesitated for the same reasons that Rory was worried about, then hit the call button. They could get new phones tomorrow, he supposed, and destroy these, just in case. Wes nibbled on his bottom lip and bounced one leg as the phone rang and rang ... it was late at night, he told himself, half expecting a Genovese thug to pick up at any second. Because that was his loved-one’s voice he’d heard screaming, he was sure of it. Kate answered because it hadn’t been Kate, but -- A click interrupted Wes’s train of thought and his mom’s sleepy, long-time-smoker’s rasp said “hello? Hello?” A different, weird fear rolled up his spine, and Wes had to hold his breath to keep from blurting anything out. He loved her, he missed her, all those things he couldn’t say. After a few more hellos, she got disgusted and hung up, and only then did Wes lower his phone. “That was her,” he murmured.
Rory had never heard anyone but Kate, but he was done questioning how that was possible. If Wes said he heard his mom, then he believed him, especially since they seemed to be the only ones in the neighborhood hearing anything at all. Rory had been in some bad neighborhoods in his time, but none that a woman screaming in the middle of the night didn’t elicit some kind of reaction. Even the people who didn’t want to get involved usually peered out their windows. Most called the cops. But the streets outside were dead as they’d been half an hour ago and the only proof Rory had that what happened was real was that Wes had heard it too… just different. It was unsettling, but he was slightly comforted by the fact that his sister seemed to be alive. He watched Wes’s expression as he held the phone to his ear, already familiar with the way anxiety turned to shock and confusion. It was the answer they both wanted, yet couldn’t explain. “I don’t know what we heard, or who’s doin’ it, but… they had every chance to take us out and didn’t.” He stopped, not sure how to move forward. Sleep felt a long way off at this point, even though he’d had enough to drink to make him drowsy.
He was terribly confused and unsettled, but the fear that men who meant to kill them were about to invade their little safe space was fading fast. It didn’t make sense, there was no logical explanation for both of them hearing two different voices at that sort of volume. Wes gnawed on his bottom lip, turning an uneasy gaze toward the window, like the screams might start up again at any second. They didn’t, all seemed silent and still outside, which also didn’t make any sense. Only Wes had heard all kinds of stories about Point Pleasant now, hadn’t he? The older roughneck type of guys he worked with liked to tell stories, especially to him as the new guy, and so many of them were creepy as hell. People seeing and hearing things that only they could see and hear, monsters in the dark, strange disappearances, all kinds of shit. Wes had been taking everything with a grain of salt so far, but ... this was weird, and so fucking personal. “I don’t ... I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t think it was to draw us out,” he murmured. Wes turned the phone in his hands completely off and dropped it on the nightstand, then reached for Rory’s hand to pull him in closer. “C’mere, sit with me.”
Rory hesitated for only a moment, but then took Wes’s hand and joined him on the bed. He didn’t know what was going on either, but he almost would’ve preferred something that made sense. He would’ve known how to handle the Genoveses or his own family, but this left him feeling unsettled and unsure. Were they still safe here? He hated to pack up and move for no reason. But tonight had been so strange. Still… nothing had come of it. They were fine, even if a little rattled. “It’s just so fuckin’ strange,” he sighed, looking over at Wes. “I’ve heard weird things happen around here, but this felt so… so real. And so specific.” He’d have sworn they’d been targeted, but by who?
Wes was feeling much the same -- he almost would have preferred a shootout with goons than this creepy ambiguity. Rory was the only reason he was glad nothing concrete had been outside. “It was real,” he said, a bit more force behind the words than he meant to have. Wes was mostly reassuring himself, but there was no way in hell they’d both been hallucinating something so similar at the same time. Something had been going on, he just had no idea what and he was starting to think it hadn’t come from anything human. “It was ... I dunno, if I was hearing my mom and you were hearing Kate ... like it was just something fucking with our brains in the same way? I’ve heard all kinds of weird stories about crazy shit happening to people here. Like ... a fog making everyone nuts and violent. Somebody told me the government runs experiments on this town.”
“You think this was the government?” Rory asked, and he wasn’t sure if he could buy into that or not. He’d never been much of a conspiracy theorist and the idea that someone was purposefully driving people nuts just to see how they’d behave seemed extreme, but it made more sense than the alternative. Which was what? That they’d been suffering similar, but different hallucinations at the same exact time? It suddenly made government experimentation seem probable. “If this is how this place is gonna be, I feel like we should… be prepared or something. I didn’t realize how lax we’d been until I thought we were surrounded.” They’d gotten comfortable, which was nice, but now he didn’t feel safe and they had nowhere else to go. Rory didn’t like the idea of picking up and moving over nothing, but he didn’t want to find himself in a similar situation anytime soon.
A dismissive “no, no way,” was Wes’s instinctual answer to Rory’s first question, but he didn’t really know that, did he? Tonight made it pretty obvious that he didn’t really know jack shit. He sighed and shook his head, scrubbing his hands over his face and then back into his blond hair to roughly ruffle it with a bit of frustration. He’d been a goon for most of his criminal career, just a dumb guy taking orders and doing what needed to be done -- until Rory, that was. Wes had come a long way since he’d gone off that particular script, but he wasn’t some tactical mastermind and he felt completely out of his depth here. Protecting Rory had gotten too easy, he should’ve known better. He flopped backward onto the bed, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes until the darkness sparkled. “We’ll make a few contingency plans,” he muttered. “Tomorrow, when I can think. Bug out bags ... best ways out of this house ... burner phones ...”
Rory would’ve taken offense to the idea that he needed protecting, as he liked to think he could take care of himself, but the situation tonight proved they weren’t prepared for much of anything. He’d stood guard at the back door while the front was unguarded, and now that they were upstairs he was aware that they only had one way back down. Back in the city, he could have at least relied on a fire escape, but if he were to jump out a second story window he’d probably break his leg and ruin any decent change of escape. He hadn’t even had his gun within arm’s reach when the screaming started, something that he’d have never allowed back home. Rory sighed and stretched out beside Wes, the wheels in his mind trying to turn out concrete plans, something that just wasn’t going to happen tonight. He’d had too much to drink to focus, something he’d have never allowed if he thought they were in danger. “We can make it safe. I don’t wanna… I don’t wanna start over again. Not if we don’t have to.”
Wes had his doubts that they could make anything completely safe for sure, but there were definitely things they could do to protect themselves better, be more prepared for ... things like this. Whatever ‘this’ had been. And if the Genoveses did ever come for them, they could have a better plan of escape. Wes rolled onto his side to face Rory, leaning in to give his shoulder a gentle headbutt. “We’re not starting over,” he murmured, draping his arm over Rory’s chest. “We’ll make it safe.” Maybe it wasn’t a promise he could fully keep, but he would do his best anyway. For Rory. Wes nuzzled him a little, his hand sliding up to cup the side of Rory’s neck. “Think whatever it was is over now, though,” he added softly. The unease from such an unsettling experience was still lingering, but Wes’s body was loosening up with every passing scream-free moment. “We’re okay.”
The casual display of affection made Rory smile and he leaned into Wes, enjoying the comfort of just being close to him. Maybe they were empty promises, but he knew Wes would try, which was what mattered more to him, that they try and make this work. They’d worked hard at not giving up and he didn’t want to do so now. He rolled to face Wes as his hand slid behind his neck, pressing their foreheads together. “We’re okay,” he repeated and he felt some of the stress he’d been carrying in his shoulders release at the admission. He’d been tense since that first scream, waiting for the ball to drop, and had been caught up in the fact that the worst had never come. While that was optimal, it was harder to believe than he expected. But there they were, laying in bed together, their situation not all that different than it had been an hour ago. He couldn’t erase the fear from his mind, but he could learn to live with it and hopefully if anything like this happened again, they’d have a better idea of what they were dealing with.