RORY (betmylife) wrote in shadows_rpg, @ 2022-03-11 12:08:00 |
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Entry tags: | #june 2018, dean, dean x rory, rory, rory x wes, wes |
Who: Rory and Dean, then Rory and Wes
When: Early evening, Wednesday, June 27th
Where: The carnival, then home
Status: Complete
It hadn’t taken Dean long to notice the carnival, which was probably true of everyone else in town as well. It wasn’t like these sorts of things happened in Point Pleasant every weekend, at least not as far as he remembered. He’d already been a few times since its appearance on Sunday, and while he’d avoided the games the first visit and just enjoyed the rides, that lure of winning called to him like a siren song. Dean knew on some level that he shouldn’t have gone back, but what was the harm in some carnival games, really? It wasn’t like he could completely lose his shirt, they were just games, just for fun, right?
Those things were easy to think until he was down to his last few cash dollars, standing in the row of bright, noisy game booths. None of the people running them seemed to have much enthusiasm for the job, all of them kind of dull-eyed and quiet, but that didn't bother Dean any. He just wanted to toss rings in the right spot and shoot down ducks with a small air rifle and win. Besides a couple of stuffed animals he’d snagged earlier for Jen, he didn’t even want the prizes they tried to give him, he just wanted the victorious rush of beating a game of chance. Especially if it was likely rigged to lose, like most carnivals were.
Only he’d spent almost all the cash he’d allowed himself to withdraw from the bank, and that yearning was still burning in his chest. Fingers tucked into his front pockets, Dean ambled down the row of booths, pondering which to spend his last bucks on.
When Rory and Wes had checked out the carnival earlier in the week, Rory had only allowed himself to play a couple of games. They were still in the hole from his last gambling spree and he couldn’t afford to blow it on kid games that didn’t even result in winnings he could use. He didn’t need a stuffed animal. Carrying one around would make him look like a creep. And yet, he couldn’t resist the lure back to the carnival, just for a game or two. He was more cognizant of his spending this time and set himself a limit, leaving the rest in the car, just in case he was tempted. He couldn’t go home and tell Wes he’d spent all he had on carnival games. He just couldn’t.
Five games. That was all he’d allow himself tonight. He didn’t need the prizes. He just wanted the rush of the game, the high he got when he gambled. He knew these games were rigged to lose, yet he’d already won himself a prize—a water gun. Just having it made him laugh. It was probably the only gun he’d ever be comfortable shooting. He should have stopped now that he won, but he’d not hit his limit—just one more game. Choosing was the hard part. Did he want to shoot a target or try his strength? Or toss a ring? He was the worst at those. He’d never once seen someone toss a ring around one of those bottles and win. He paused before one of the duck hunt games. He’d always had good aim, even if he rarely used it. It would be fun to see how high a score he could get, even if he lost.
As he was looking around at the games, Dean’s eyes naturally ran over the people in front of them as well. As he approached the duck hunt game, one of the faces he skimmed gave him pause -- it looked familiar, but from Somewhere Else. As he ambled closer and studied the man’s profile, Dean became more and more sure that he had seen him before, outside of Point Pleasant. It took a bit more squinting and closing the distance before it clicked into place, and when it did Dean froze. That was Rory DeAngelo, he was suddenly sure of it. They had only met in passing a few times back in New York, Dean had dealt more directly with Rory’s father and his cronies, but he’d always been good with remembering faces. But what the fuck was he doing here? Before he’d gotten out of the city himself, Dean had heard rumors about the DeAngelo son going missing ... had Rory run away too? To this fucking place? Or had those rumors just been bullshit and he was there looking for Dean? Anxiety suddenly made his heart pick up speed, and he was tempted to duck away into the crowd, but Dean’s curiosity was strong, so he got a bit closer and pretended to consider the little shooting game himself while his mind spun out trying to figure out what to do.
Rory was just about to get settled in at the game when he suddenly had the feeling he was being watched. It was like an itch, a tingling in his back, and he’d learned long ago to trust that feeling, even if he had no real reason to. Most of the time it was nothing—some girl in a bar checking him out, a stranger looking past him to someone else—but every once and a while he was right. So Rory set the toy gun down and turned, locking eyes with a man that was almost instantly familiar. There was a beat where Rory tried to place him and then his eyes widened slightly, his hand flinching as he had to keep himself from going for his handgun. That wouldn’t do. This was a public place, with kids left and right. Rory cursed quietly as he tried to decide what to do—if the guy recognized him, he couldn’t just let him go, but making a scene could make matters worse. He couldn’t remember his name, but he knew he knew him from home, where everyone he knew wanted him dead.
When their eyes met and Rory turned into a deer in headlights, something in Dean relaxed slightly. Either he was a really good actor or he wasn’t actually there to hunt Dean down and do him in. The most cunning part of him felt the power balance shift -- if Rory was missing from New York and wanting to stay missing, maybe that gave Dean the upper hand here. All of those thoughts were lightning fast and he knew he could be off-base about any or all of it, but he still trusted his gut, in spite of everything. His gut got him out of trouble, it was the gambling that got him into shit. But maybe his desire to come and play stupid games would be what led him to salvation this time. Dean moved in closer to Rory, not looking away now that they’d obviously seen each other. “Hey man,” he said once he was close enough, flashing Rory a bright smile that he hoped was disarming. “Thought I recognized you. Fancy meetin’ you here ... Rory, right?”
In all of his internal plotting and planning, this wasn’t a situation Rory had prepared for. Guy showing up ready to kill him, yes, but not familiar faces that moved in to start conversation with a smile. He kept waiting to feel the barrel of a gun in the small of his back, but checking over his shoulder would require taking his eyes off of the man. It didn’t feel worth the risk. Instead, he put the game at his back, assuming the man running it was safe. If not, he was fucked. “Yeah,” he admitted, since he was past the point of outright denying it. Maybe if he’d been able to fake recognition, but he’d been too caught off guard. “Sorry, I— It’s been a while.” Names ran through his head as he tried to place him, annoyed that his own face was more familiar. That came with being a DeAngelo. “Seem to have forgotten your name. Remind me?”
Considering the life that Dean had been living for quite a few years now, lying was almost second nature to him. Especially when he had something to gain from it. He still didn’t know that Rory was out of touch with his family -- even if he wasn’t there specifically for Dean, he didn’t want any of the DeAngelos knowing where he was. “Thomas Wood,” he said, the alias rolling easily off of his tongue as he offered his hand out to shake with Rory. His middle name was Thomas, so it was familiar enough for him to respond to without hesitating, but also common enough not to raise any red flags. He hoped, anyway. “My friends call me Tom though,” Dean added with a chuckle. “So weird seeing anybody from New York here ... you got family up here or somethin’?”
The absolute lack of recognition on his part was the only reason Rory knew it was a lie. The name was common, almost generic, easy to remember, but also easy to forget. He’d always been good with faces, but not so much names, and now it was going to bite him in the ass. He was a charmer, a businessman, smart, but not near as conniving as he needed to be—or so he’d always been told. As ‘Tom’ grinned back at him, he knew they were right. He shook his hand anyways, his smile convincing, even if his heart was pounding with anxiety. “Naw, just visiting some friends,” he said casually, giving away none of the fear that came with mention of his family. Better to pretend they knew where he was, just in case Tom didn’t know the whole story. “It’s nice to get away once and a while, but I’m kinda itching to get back. I miss the city already. What’re you doing around here?”
Dean couldn’t tell if it was a good or bad sign that Rory shook his hand. He was playing along fairly well if he knew more than Dean wanted him to. If he was buying it? Well, Dean would have a little time to make some phone calls back to NYC to see what the word was. If Rory was truly ‘missing’ to his family, then maybe this coincidence was a bit divine and could help him with his own problems. He just hoped this encounter didn’t spook Rory into disappearing from this place, Dean didn’t know him well enough to determine if he was nervous or just a little caught off guard to be recognized. “I actually grew up here,” Dean answered, giving a wry smile. He didn’t mind sharing a bit of truth using his alias. “So I still got family here. Just popping in for a summer visit. It’s gorgeous here in the summertime. I feel you though, it can get kind of ... what’s the word? Not claustrophobic, but the opposite? Very different from the city anyway.” Dean chuckled and shrugged.
As Tom continued to talk, Rory began to suspect he was there alone, that he could maybe stop expecting someone to sneak up on him from behind. That didn’t make the situation all that much better, but he thought he could maybe handle one person, whereas he’d have been screwed with two. He wasn’t sure he should believe a word that came out of Tom’s mouth, but he did wonder if there wasn’t a touch of truth in there. Most people wouldn’t claim to be a local without some real knowledge backing it up. “Oh yeah? Who’s your family? I might know ‘em,” he said casually, doubting he would, but hoping to gain some kind of upper hand. The alternative would be following him back to his car, then possibly to his home, with Wes in tow. He didn’t want to cause problems around here, but he couldn’t risk letting the guy return to New York and telling his family where he’d gone into hiding.
“Nah, I’d be surprised,” Dean responded with a chuckle. “It’s just my folks and some cousins up here, they mostly keep to themselves.” He didn’t want to throw out some fake names for Rory to look up later and not find. Dean didn’t want to spook him completely, what if he skipped town? Then this opportunity would be out the window, and god knew he needed an opportunity. Dean had never been a straightforwardly aggressive guy, and he definitely hadn’t been prepared for this, so it wasn’t like he could just snatch Rory DeAngelo out of the carnival and hold him for some kind of ransom ... he was staying with his goddamn sheriff brother, for god’s sake. He was going to have to be more clever about this than that, but luckily Dean’s wits had gotten him out of a lot. It just might take some patience and homework. “Well anyway, I won’t keep ya. Just funny to see a familiar NYC face up here.” He offered Rory a lazy grin and made moves to start ambling away from this completely casual encounter.
As friendly as Tom seemed, Rory couldn’t shake the feeling that this one random encounter was going to get him killed. All it would take was a phone call and the danger that they’d tried so hard to escape would descend upon them. He was still mentally flailing when Tom brought a close to their conversation, but he tried his hardest to seem nonplussed about the exchange. “Yeah, small world,” he smiled. “See you around.” He glanced back towards the game, but only for a second, his attention never completely leaving Tom. He would have to tail him, wait until they were farther from the crowds, maybe out in the parking lot, and then… Rory hadn’t gotten that far. Though he’d never actually killed someone, he was now contemplating it. Once Tom had gotten a reasonable distance away, Rory turned to follow him. Then he pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed Wes’s number.
Wes had had his own strange sort of day. His job with the town was mutli-faceted -- he did trash pickup and other sorts of cleaning, drove maintenance trucks around sometimes, helped out with whatever they needed. And that afternoon the only official Animal Control guy had needed help. Some old man’s yard had been inexplicably full of snakes, and a neighbor had called to complain. They’d gotten no answer knocking at the door, and nobody seemed to know if the guy had family or what. So Wes had spent several hours carefully chasing and picking up snakes, all while the animal control guy rambled on in bafflement -- these types of snakes weren’t even indigenous to the area, what the hell was happening?
Wes hadn’t wanted to think about it too hard. He’d just done his job and then gone home to shower and crack open a beer or five and relax. Rory wasn’t home when he finally arrived, but Wes knew he’d gone to check out the carnival, so that wasn’t a surprise. He was kind of grateful for the solitude and quiet, honestly. By the time his phone started ringing, Wes was a few beers deep and relaxing on the couch. He swiped the screen to answer and put the phone to his ear. “Hey babe,” he rumbled softly. “Having fun?”
“There’s a guy here that knows me. From back home,” Rory said, keeping his voice low, but still trying to talk loud enough that Wes could hear him over the sounds of the carnival. “I think he’s alone. Didn’t seem to be looking for me, but he could tell someone. They’d know we’re here. I don’t—I don’t know what the fuck to do. I’m tailing him now. I could try to get the drop on him, but… Shit, Wes, what the fuck do I do?” If he followed Tom to his car, he might be able to catch him off guard, but Rory had only ever been the hostage in this sort of situation and he wasn’t sure he could shoot an innocent man just for recognizing him.
There was no mistaking the urgency in Rory’s voice, and it made Wes’s heart drop through the floor. He sat up straight and squinted, as if that would make him hear better, and tried to focus on what Rory was actually saying. “Whoa whoa, you’re tailing him?” Wes asked, his own voice lower than it needed to be. He stood up and ignored the slight waver in his balance, heading for where he’d taken his boots off earlier. “You stop that, right now, for one, you dunno if he’s armed. Are you armed? Jesus, Rory. Did you know this guy or did he just know you?” He didn’t think the DeAngelos would try to do some devious type shit like sending secret assassins ... they’d always been more of the guns-blazing types, but who could really know?
“I’m always armed,” Rory muttered, still trying to keep Tom in his sights as he walked down the midway. He’d started carrying again after they saw that grinning man at the marina that time, unable to shake the feeling that he’d run into him again if he left his weapon at home. He was glad to have it now, just in case he needed it, though he’d much rather shoot the grinning man than Tom. “I’ve met him before, but I think he lied about his name. I dunno. Everything he said was vague, but he knew me. Knew my name. All it would take is one phone call—shit…. I think I lost him.” Rory stopped, scanning the crowds as panic began to set in, but then he spotted him again and breathed a sigh of relief. “Nevermind. Found him.”
“Rory, stop, he could be tryin’ to lead you somewhere,” Wes said as he struggled to get one foot into a boot. “Or he’s like ... just a guy, you know? We don’t need trouble with the law here, that’ll really draw attention. What are you gonna do, jump him? You can’t shoot him in the parking lot or somethin’ man, don’t be stupid.” He was probably talking too much, the beers loosening his tongue, but Wes’s heart was hammering in his chest over the idea that Rory was in danger, out somewhere without him. Cursing under his breath, he sat down on the floor with a thump to try and get his damn shoes on with both hands, phone tucked against his shoulder. “If they knew where we were and they wanted us, they’d be here by now, you know? They don’t play mindfuck games.”
“I don’t know, I hadn’t—I hadn’t figured it out! That’s why I called you,” Rory said, raking a shaking hand through his hair. This was the sort of thing one of his brothers might do, chasing a man down, guns blazing, but violence had never been Rory’s preferred way of dealing with things. He only turned to it when he was out of options, something he was hoping Wes could provide. “Okay,” he breathed. “Okay, I’ll stay back. Won’t go near him. But if I lose him, we could be fucked. He could call someone, tell ‘em we’re here. I could get his plates. That’d at least give us something. A name, even.” He was going to feel like an idiot if the guy’s name was really Tom, but he was willing to bet that it wasn’t.
It was a little flattering that Rory thought Wes would have ideas on how to fix it, but he didn’t, especially not when his brain was so boozy. He just knew that Rory should not confront that guy, or be super obvious about following him. Wes wasn’t sure he knew anybody anymore who could run plates to find out who they belonged to, so he didn’t know if that was a good idea or not. “S’long as you can do it without him seeing you,” Wes said, the worry probably evident in his voice. At least Rory was backing off some, but still, all of this was jarring and scary. “We can’t stop him calling anybody though, Rory, that’s ... should I come? I’m comin’.” Wes tugged his second boot on and didn’t bother with the laces this time, just pulled himself back up to his feet. “Keep stayin’ back.”
Rory thought he was doing a decent job at tailing Tom, but what did he know? This wasn’t the sort of thing he usually did, despite his upbringing. His family had taken care of his messes for him, until he’d screwed them over, so maybe it was time to hone a new set of skills. “You don’t need to come. There’s nothing to do except ream me out for fucking things up.” Nevermind that he hadn’t actually done anything wrong. It was just a shitty situation that he didn’t have a solution to other than blowing the guy’s head off, which was truly out of the question. “He said he grew up here. Had family here. But when I tried to get more out of him, he shut the conversation down.” Rory hadn’t pried, but now he wished he’d pushed at least a little harder.
Maybe it was telling that Wes’s first thought was that they could go after the guy’s family if he tried anything -- tailing people and threatening them and kicking their asses if they didn’t comply was the kind of thing he usually did. He hated that Rory was in this position without him there too, stupid work. Gnawing on the inside of his cheek, Wes stood there and contemplated the doorknob for a minute. It wouldn’t quite stay still, so he probably was in no shape to drive anywhere anyway. “Hell, maybe he’s on the run from you,” Wes muttered. He turned in place and put his back against the door, then slid down onto his haunches again. Standing was just so much effort. “Don’t hang up though, ‘til he’s gone. But try to get a pic of his car too. Jus’ ... not too close, Ror. ... I should be there, shit. Fuck.” Wes rubbed at his eyes, his throat tight suddenly.
“Nobody’s on the run from me,” Rory pointed out. From his family, possibly, but would Tom really be stupid enough to approach him if that was the case? Rory wasn’t a threat in that sense, but he had no idea if it was publicly known how he’d fucked over his family. He was sure everyone knew about the Genovese family though. Having two different crime families gunning for him was not a situation he’d wish on anyone, but it was where he found himself. “If you were here, it’d be even more obvious,” he said, falling back further when Tom began to head out towards the parking lot. The cars provided a lot of cover, but there were far less people there. Getting a picture of his car would be optimal, but he wasn’t entirely sure he could manage that, not without getting close. “He’s heading towards his car,” he muttered.
Wes didn’t know what he would do if he was there, he just knew that it was almost physically painful not to be at Rory’s side at that moment. There was shit really wrong with this town, he was coming to understand more and more. In spite of the idyllic surface, this was not actually a safe place for them to be, and maybe this Tom guy made it even more unsafe. All of it made him want to immediately start packing, to take them somewhere else, somewhere even more remote, so they could start over again. That prospect made his chest hurt even more and Wes pressed his hand to his eyes as a few tears leaked out. He was so tired, in a deep way that sleep didn’t help with. He was also drunk, so this timing just sucked all around. Wes turned the phone away from his face to sniffle and swallow hard, then whispered hoarsely into the mic, “Please be careful, Rory.”
Rory’s feet came to a halt when Wes spoke again, the raw emotion suddenly catching him off guard. He’d been so focused on Tom that he hadn’t even stopped to consider what this might be doing to Wes. If the situations were reversed, he’d be a fucking mess. Probably a lot more obvious about it, but still. “I’m being careful,” he said, this time more gently, his voice quiet. “I got the plates. It’s a dark blue Charger. Newer model. I don’t want to get any closer, even for a picture. It’s probably too dark anyways.” He started to back away then, putting some distance between them before he ducked out of sight. “I’m gonna lay low for a minute, then head on home. Just wanna make sure he doesn’t spot me.” For all the dangers they’d experienced in this town, this was one he’d not seen coming.
“Okay,” Wes breathed, then bit into the inside of his cheek to keep himself quiet. Getting emotional in front of anyone always made him feel weirdly ashamed of himself, even Rory. Even when Rory wasn’t technically in front of him. Wes wasn’t going to let him off the phone until he was in the car on the way home though, even if he was a blubbery idiot. He tried to think of something else than the possibility of Rory getting hurt, something that was actually helpful. “I think ... I might know a trustworthy guy, back home,” he said, then cleared his throat to try and stop his voice from wavering. “Maybe he can run the plates. I’ll call from a payphone in Bangor or something ... nobody’s gotta know where we are, or that I’m even with you.” For all the DeAngelos and Genoveses knew, they had split up immediately after escaping the city. It would be stupid to stay together, right? Why would they? Only now they were in love and Wes would rather die than split up.
It burned that Rory didn’t have a single contact back home that he could reach out to, not without putting them in danger. Even if he trusted them, his brothers knew all his contacts, especially his closest friends, and would tear them to pieces if they thought they might provide some insight into where Rory had gone. So he’d cut all ties, making this situation more difficult than usual. Wes’s contacts might be the slightest bit safer and he nodded to himself at the possibilities that presented themselves. “Only if you trust him,” Rory murmured. “If I could be sure of this guy’s name, I feel like we’d be closer to equal ground, you know? It might not fix things, but it’d give us a leg up.” He worried his lip a moment more, then straightened and began to head for his car. “He’s gone. I’m gonna head home.”
Who to completely trust was a huge question that Wes wasn’t sure he could think straight about at the moment. He wasn’t going to drive to Bangor tonight to make the call anyway, so he would have to think about it with more of a clear head in the morning. For now he just wanted Rory home so they could lock up and hunker down for the night, and Wes could cling to him. “Don’t hang up ‘til you’re pulling out of the parking lot,” he murmured into the phone, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back against the door. “And make sure you’re not followed.” Even if Rory had never been in the field much, so to speak, Wes knew he’d at least been taught how to lose a tail. It was a good sign that the Tom guy left first, but he could always be waiting to pull in behind Rory’s car.
“I know, babe,” Rory murmured as he hurried to his car, glancing over his shoulder every few steps. He wasn’t the best at tailing someone, but he knew how to lose one when the situation was reversed. If he hadn’t known before he met Wes, then their journey from New York to Point Pleasant would have taught him that much. His heart was still pounding as he climbed into his car, his hands shaking as he put the key in the ignition. It was the first time he’d noticed it, but it had probably been that way since Tom had laid eyes on him. He thought they might calm once the car started, but they didn’t, probably wouldn’t until he was home, safe in Wes’s arms.
Wes stayed on the phone with him until Rory was actually on his way, then he muttered a “see you soon” and hung up. He gave himself a minute to let some tears out just to relieve some of that pressure behind his eyes. This probably wasn’t over, but Rory was safe for now, that was what mattered. Unless someone tried to run him off the road on his way home. Or followed him and then shot him in the driveway. “Fuck,” Wes groaned to himself as he swiped hard at his eyes and tried to push those types of thoughts away. He took his boots off again and then got himself to his feet and shuffled over to one of the front-facing windows to watch for Rory’s headlights turning in.
Rory kept checking his rearview mirror the whole way home, an action that had become second nature to him. It felt like there was always some danger out there, either some gun-toting enemy from back home or a madman with teeth and a bowler’s hat. This town was making him paranoid, seeing dangers just about everywhere, but he knew one day he’d look in that mirror and there’d be someone or something following him. He wasn’t even sure which was worse anymore. He couldn’t even breathe a sigh of relief when he pulled into the driveway because the threat was still potentially out there. Just because it wasn’t chasing him down at this moment didn’t mean they were safe. “Babe?” Rory called out as he opened the door. He knew Wes had been waiting for him, had seen his silhouette in the window as he’d pulled in the drive.
Wes was on his way back to the door when Rory came in. He still felt scared and wibbly and out of sorts, plus too drunk to really be dealing with any of it. He halfway barrelled into Rory just as the door closed behind him, grabbing him into a bear hug and clinging to him hard, like Wes could somehow protect him from everything with just his body alone. He wanted to ask if Rory was okay, but that was a stupid question and his throat wasn’t working properly anyway, it was all closed up with too much emotion. They should be packing, leaving town -- or this whole stupid state, maybe driving up into Canada. Toronto was nice, wasn’t it? But Wes didn’t have a passport. Fuck. Just as they were getting settled into a life, there was that cornered, panicky feeling again. Wes understood too well why animals would chew off their own limbs to escape traps.
It might not fix anything, but the hug was what Rory needed at the moment, and he clung to Wes as he wrapped his arms around him. Every other time there’d been potential danger, they’d been together and he hadn’t realized how much easier that made it to deal with. He’d felt so alone this time, unable to think on his feet, and he was certain that none of it would have happened if Wes had been with him. He wouldn’t have felt the need to play another round of carnival games, at the very least. Once again, his gambling was getting them in trouble, just not in the way he was used to. “What do we do?” he asked quietly, his breath against Wes’s neck. He could tell Wes had been drinking now and desperately wanted to catch up with him, even if drowning their troubles would likely make things worse.
He didn’t really want to talk, or move, Wes just wanted to stand there and hold onto Rory until the world felt steady again. He just didn’t know when that would be, if it ever happened. The question made Wes’s chest ache all over again -- he wished he had an answer, a good smart answer that would solve all of their problems, but he felt so dumb and helpless at the moment. “I don’t know,” he murmured softly back, his arms tightening briefly around Rory. Wes slid one hand up to tangle fingers in the back of his hair, and pulled back enough to look at him. His eyes were watery and his nose was still stinging, and he was sure he looked like a mess. “Tomorrow morning, I can check on the plates .. or do you ... do you just want to run?” He searched Rory’s eyes as he asked, his brow furrowed, not even really sure what answer he wanted.
The look in Wes’s eyes nearly broke Rory’s heart and he clung to him tighter, hoping it would give him some sort of comfort. He could tell Wes was emotional over the phone, but he hadn’t realized just how rattled he’d been and probably still was. If the situation had been reversed, if he’d been forced to listen, helpless, as Wes dealt with a potential threat, he knew he’d have been a mess himself. It forced Rory to try and pull himself together, to try and make a decision, knowing his head was probably clearer at that point. “I’m tired of running,” he murmured, then leaned his forehead against Wes’s and closed his eyes, trying to think when his nerves were all shot. A thought occurred to him and he took a deep breath. “He doesn’t know our car, or where we live. Nothing here is under our real names. He’d have to ask around, stir things up even to find us again. So, let’s—let’s check the plates. Try and get ahead of him. I don’t want to run unless we have to.”
Wes would’ve had more control over himself if he hadn’t been drunk when the call came in, though he probably would’ve been just as scared. He definitely would’ve been out the door faster, more dead set on getting to Rory if he could safely drive. He still didn’t know what he would’ve done to help, but at least they would’ve been together. Wes closed his eyes too as their foreheads connected and nodded a little at what Rory said. All of that made sense, it should’ve been comforting. They were still fairly anonymous here, living under aliases, and it wasn’t like there were only twenty people in this town. It was small, but not that small. They could still hide, and ... try. That last part felt so hard tonight in his inebriated state, but Wes had to keep trying. For Rory. He gripped and slowly massaged the back of Rory’s neck with both hands, not ready to let go of him yet. “We’ll be okay,” he muttered, aiming for positivity. “S’long as we’re together.” Wes tilted his head to brush a kiss against Rory’s lips, feeling like he needed that contact too.
As sappy as it sounded, it was exactly how Rory felt. They’d gotten this far and survived, something he hadn’t thought was possible when they’d run that night in late December. They’d beaten the odds once and they could do it again. Maybe it wasn’t safe to gamble with their lives, but he wanted to believe that it was more than just chance. They were smart, they could prepare for the worst and hope for the best. It felt a touch foolish, but they’d built so much that he hated to just abandon it and start over. Together, they could do this. They just had to keep taking it one day at a time.