Nora Bates (twosidedshocker) wrote in tiberiusswann, @ 2010-02-20 09:46:00 |
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Entry tags: | dante, roger |
Sunday, April 6th 2008
Who: Roger and Dante
What: Nightmare
Where: Roger's Room
When: Middle of the night
Rating: R for language
It had been a good dream, but now it seemed it was over. Roger's eyes fluttered open, an angry grunt coming from deep in his chest. Someone was shaking him awake, and for half a second he thought maybe it was Wesley with some kind of emergency. Or maybe it was Wesley waking him for sex. Either way, he was up. Sitting up, he saw a shape in the dark- a massive, imposing shape. And then he remembered that he was in his room at the school and it wasn't Wesley waking him up, but Dante. Roger flopped back down onto his pillows. "The fuck do you want?" he grumbled, not a person who was pleasant when he was woken up.
Standing at the side of Roger's bed, Dante had his hands clasped behind his back, bare feet shuffling on the tiled floor. He felt completely stupid right now, but his body was tense and shaking and he kept shocking the wall next to him. "I can't sleep," he mumbled, embarassed. "I keep having nightmares."
Roger was staring at the ceiling, listening to this nonsense. "So fucking what?" he snapped irritably. Dante was massive, and besides that he was tough and ruthless. What in the hell were a few bad dreams doing making him come wake Roger in the middle of the night?
"I'm... it..." Dante licked his lips nervously. "I keep seeing... your uncle molesting me." It was weird, because in the dream the older man was scaring the hell out of Dante, when in reality he would have just beat the shit out of the guy.
Turning his head toward Dante, Roger furrowed his brow. "I don't have an uncle!" he practically shouted. "And if I do, I've never met him and he definitely didn't molest me."
The golem paused. "Oh." Well then what in the hell... He scratched the stubble on his chin. "Guess that's a leftover memory from this guy." That was really fucked up, how the dead guy's brain kept filtering in to Dante's everyday life. Now he knew French and expensive words he never used but apparently knew the definition to.
Roger watched Dante a minute, who didn't seem inclined to move or go back to bed. "Whaaat?" he growled.
"Can't... sleep." He looked up shyly at Roger, waiting. Roger stared back. He blinked. Dante just stood there, though his resolve was weakening with every passing second. "Fine," Roger snapped, moving over in his bed. There was no way in hell they'd both fit in here, but Dante apparently wasn't going back to bed. Pressed against the wall, Roger held up the blankets while his former alter ego climbed onto the mattress beside him. It was somewhat endearing, if it wasn't so goddamn weird. All Dante needed was a teddy bear and he'd be a little kid climbing into his parent's bed.
Laying beside Roger was like instant relief. As soon as his head hit the pillow, when the blanket was covering him and they were both settled, Dante felt the anxiety just run from him. He sighed, forehead pressed against Roger's shoulder. "I'm sorry," he murmured, putting a tentative arm around Roger. Part of it was because he was falling off the bed, but a bigger part was because he wanted to comfort. He had never gotten to touch Roger before, except for when they'd fought. And Roger was the center of his life, the beginning and maybe the end. He had never felt about anyone else what he did for Roger. It had been stupid of him to think he could just leave the man and live across the country.
The sudden personal space invasion, being woken, having Dante's arm around him... Roger wasn't sure how to feel. Part of him wanted to kick Dante out of his bed, kick him to the cold floor because he was a dick and he deserved to be abandoned. But he couldn't do it. There was an innocence in Dante right now, a childish neediness that Roger didn't think the man was capable of. All he'd ever seen from him was destruction and anger. This must have been what Wesley had taked about, what Roger hadn't believed. What Roger had angrily thrown back in the healer's face because Dante had betrayed him. He felt pretty bad about that now. "It's... fine," he said after a moment, resting a hand on Dante's shoulder. "Just go back to sleep."
"I mean for everything." It was easier to talk in the dark, and he and Roger had said plenty of things to one another lately, but never talked. Not since that first night, and then Roger had just asked questions and Dante had answered them. "I'm sorry I hurt you, and that I didn't... tell you things. And for ruining your life."
Roger shifted uncomfortably. He couldn't believe Dante was apologizing. It didn't make a damn bit of difference, what was done was done, but it was still nice to know that the man was capable of remorse. Plus, Roger had created Dante, had made all the evil that the man had done, so... who really needed to apologize? "Just forget it," he said finally, rubbing the man's shoulder a little. "It doesn't matter anymore."
"I love you." Roger froze completely, eyes wide and staring in the dark. Where was this going? He'd heard Dante tell him this once before, and they hadn't talked about it since. He wasn't sure if he actually believed it, or if it mattered. Dante didn't look up. He wanted to get this out, and if he had to see Roger's face he'd lose his nerve. "I love you," he said again. "I always have. And everything I did was just to keep you safe, because everything scared you and I just... you couldn't get hurt. And I thought Wesley would hurt you, and those other guys in the gym, you didn't... you had no idea how bad you were gonna get hurt."
Roger couldn't handle hearing this. Dante had been one thing to him forever, and while the view of him was beginning to change, he couldn't do this tonight. "Shh, shut up," he said desperately, hugging Dante close. "Just stop."
"I don't want you to hate me anymore. I'm sick of feeling guilty, feeling scared, I'm sick of all these... emotions." He clung to Roger, face buried into the man's shoulder. "This is so fucking hard. You were always the stronger one, dealing with this shit. Dealing with love, and guilt, and people and... shit..." He swallowed. "You always thought I was stronger then you but I'm not. I can't keep shit under control, I'm fuckin' crying all the damn time... stupid fucking nightmares about shit that never even happened to me scares me awake. I dunno what to do. I don't know how you do it."
It was completely unfair what Dante was doing to Roger right now. The half demon felt guilty for not wanting Dante in his life, but he knew in the back of his mind that Dante had caused him such suffering, even after Roger's brain had needed him. He should't have to feel bad about the other man's fears, he shouldn't have to want to make them go away. He shouldn't have had to be the one to keep Dante together, but he was. "It's okay," he whispered after a moment. "It'll be okay. We'll figure it out."
"Don't leave me." Dante's voice was barely a whisper, desperate and small. He had never needed someone before, and it was scaring the hell out of him. His internal currents were sparking up, though thankfully Roger was absorbing them. There was a very good chance that Roger would turn cold on him. In fact, of all the people Dante knew, Roger was the most likely to do so. But he couldn't not plead with him. "Please, don't."
"I-" Roger's response got caught in his throat, stopped by the lump of emotion sitting there. He swallowed, exhaling slowly. He couldn't give Dante an answer. He couldn't say yes because he wasn't sure he wanted to, and he couldn't say no because he didn't think he could ever leave Dante. "I'm right here," he whispered finally. It wasn't quite what the other man had wanted to hear, but he seemed appeased for the moment. Dante's body realxed against Roger's, a sigh escaping from him. Dante's skin was cold, his breath cool on Roger's bare chest. Roger held the man tightly, his brain a whirlwind of thought. He was lying in bed with a dead body, with a created personality that had cut itself from his brain to get away, and now was clinging to him as though he were a life raft. Roger felt like he'd suddenly gained a son, and he wasn't ready for the responsibility. But he couldn't turn him away, either.
Sleep wasn't coming tonight.