Nora Bates (twosidedshocker) wrote in tiberiusswann, @ 2010-05-29 17:55:00 |
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Entry tags: | ipsy, roger, wesley |
Sunday May 25th 2008
Who: Wes and Ipsy
What: First Meeting
Where: The BGH (Big Gay House)
When: Sunday Morning
Rating: WTF
Wes was getting used to the new house. The layout was strange and the healer didn't usually live in anything with more than a simple open plan place with one floor and a general living area. This house, being a B&B, was huge. It had many rooms, none of which were a bathroom when Wes needed it so he really didn't see the point in a building this huge. Until he considered the fact that there were about ten or more people gonna be either living or visiting in this house at one time. Christmas was gonna be fucking weird.
The to-do with Roger the other day had been hard. Wesley still doubted whether Roger had any clue as to how odd it had been for the healer to have suddenly switched. Not since Dante had Roger done that on him, and Roger seemed to think it was Dante fooling around - only he missed the point that Dante NEVER fooled around like that. He'd rather be straight and tell Wes he was a dick then do that.... Right?
After spending two minutes trying to find the door to his bedroom Wes accomplished his task and swung it open, rubbing his hand over his eyes though as soon as he blinked open he almost wished he'd covered them completely.
Roger wasn't here. Dante had abandoned him. It had surprised the half demon how much this fact upset him, that Erin was somehow more important because she had been asked along on this little disappearing act. Not that Roger could have gone anyway, how could he have done that to Wesley? Still, it was the principle of the matter. Like Dante didn't even care that he was shunting Roger. Now Roger understood how everyone always felt around Dante, and it sucked. You thought you might matter and then boom, you did not. It hurt. It hurt like hell.
So Roger was tucked away, safe, feeling lonely and sad and horrible. After he'd spoken to Dante last night on the phone, there was just no sense being out anymore. So instead, She was here. Roger had come in the night and in the morning, after Wes had gotten up to go to the bathroom and do his morning thing without waking Roger (sweetheart that he was), she was the one waking up.
After stretching and pouting over her butch-short hair, she got up and rifled through her clothing, none of it acceptable. Mandy's room was a few doors away, and luckily Wesley couldn't find a thing in this house so she had enough time to pluck through the few items the teenage girl had left here and return to Wesley's bedroom. In a green camisole that only covered down to her bellybutton and a rolled up pair of Wesley's jeans (so they sat low on the hips, and since they were too short could be rolled into adorable capri length), she twirled in the full length mirror and dubbed herself adorable. Wesley popped in just as she was running a palmful of gel through her hair to tame it somehow, longong for barettes.
"Hello, sweet," she cooed.
---
Roger. In his daughter's top. And his jeans. Looking like a woman.
Several thoughts ran through his head, none of them helpful. Instead he was just left stood there, motor functions having ceased to work. His brain was shutting down. He'd been with transvestites before, drag queens, hell even a she-male, but he had never, for one second, imagined his Roger - sweet, darling Roger - was among them. Maybe it was just a test? Something he'd thought would be fun. But that was one of the aforementioned several several thoughts that whizzed on through to be replaced by something ludicrous.
"Er..." Wes blinked, hand still by the doorknob. If Medusa had existed one might have thought he'd been turned to stone. "Did you... run out of clothes...?"
---
A thunderstruck man was good sign. "You like?" she asked, twirling for him. "I might have borrowed from Cissy but her boobs are so big, since the baby and all, and..." She looked down, hands gripping her own flat chest, a pout on her lips. "And I'm quite diminished in that category. Damn shame I'm so... male." The word was practically spat out.
With a bit of a shrug, she went back to styling her hair, finally getting it into a Jamie Lee Curtis tousle that was acceptable. Wiping her hands on her jeans, she turned back to the still staring Wes. "Breakfast?" she asked, standing with one hip out and her fist rested on it. "I thought we could go find a little French place, get crepes." She licked her lips at the savory thought. "Or, you can simply stand there forever and stare at me!" she teased, stepping forward to swat at his chest.
---
Every time Wes opened his eyes between those miniscule seconds he closed them... he saw Roger. Dressed in girls' clothes. What was more Roger was acting like a girl. He wasn't himself at all, it was like he was acting up for something. Perhaps practicing for a new school play. Or maybe Wes was dreaming. How much had he drank last night?
The healer was shaken from his stunned reverie as Roger swanned over, talking about French bistros and - creeps? - and standing staring. Oh shit he was standing staring... luckily the swat to the chest caused Wesley to jostle a few words out.
"I er... yeah sure, I mean we can..." Should he play along? This was just too weird. After a moment of trying to find the right words to say, avoiding the sparkly, shining eyes of his once familiar lover, Wes stopped acting like a fish and focused on him. "Are you... okay? I mean you... have you always liked dressing up in women's clothes, should I not mention this and act like it's not happening...?" Because strike him down if he was going to be insensitive towards this.
---
With a very light, very coy giggle, she broke into a huge, feminie grin. "You are truly just adorable, no wonder he loves you so." Stroking Wesley's cheek with the back of her hand, she stepped close to him, biting her lip. "I'm not Roger, lovey," she said softly. "He isn't here."
---
The moment that grin crossed Roger's face Wesley knew. He knew, he just couldn't believe it, or maybe he didn't want to. Until it was confirmed that the personality in front of him was not Roger, Wesley clung onto the hope this was a game and nothing more. But that was shattered.
"Oh no..." The healer took a step back, beginning to shake his head. His gaze was wide. "No.... you - you give him back. Get out of him... not again, you give him back..." Please, please he begged in his head, not again.
---
Her face fell a little, feelings hurt as Wesley withdrew from her. "Well," she said crisply, withdrawing her hand but holding it poised. "Aren't you just hospitable." Spinning on her heels, she flounced over to the bed, grabbing Roger's sneakers from the floor. "Nevermind that I have feelings, no, just 'Where is Roger, give him back'." She tugged on a show forcefully, tying up the laces with quick and angry fingers. "Well he isn't here, Wessers, and he won't be for awhile. So I will just leave you to wish for him."
After the second she was pulled on, she stood up and shot Wesley the angriest glare she could possibly manage. "My name is Ipsy, by the way, since you were kind enough to ask for it!" Flipping him the bird, she grabbed her jacket from the chair by the closet and stormed past him, her massive form slamming him against the doorframe as she brushed by.
---
It was so surreal and sudden that Wesley didn't even notice her anger, the way she stomped over to the bed. Feelings? Not Roger? She WAS Roger, just... not. It was weird. Too weird. It was like a cat had been stalking his shadow and finally leapt out to give him the shock of his life. Not to mention this new personality was also female. Female! Wes had lived with a woman once and he'd never got used to it, now he was living with one who was living in his boyfriend's body and....
"No, why, why is he not.... OW." Wes grabbed his shoulder as Ipsy passed, brain still trying to catch up with this information. Or was it a bombshell? Even the pain in his shoulderblade didn't serve to take away his shock and panic that was rising inside his numb stomach.
---
Already past Wes, sweeping off down the hallway to the stairs, Ipsy shouted over her shoulder, not bothering to look at Wes. "Why?" she repeated, laughing hollowly. "I don't know! Maybe because his boyfriend is a suffocating, jealous loser! Or maybe because a man who'd cut himself out of his brain has simply run off with his girlfriend! Maybe because he needs someone who can actually look out for him and not just fuck off like all you men do!"
By then she had reached the living room, which was thankfully deserted. And then she remembered she'd forgotten Roger's wallet and keys up in Wesley's room, in Roger's pants. "Oh, shit!" she cursed, pounding a fist on her thigh. Turning again, she walked briskly back toward the bedroom, still fuming.
---
It was like Wesley's world had just been a bubble filled with rainbows and diamonds and someone had come over and stabbed it with a pin, turning everything to shit. Rainbows had been shattered, the diamonds were fakes. Wesley sank onto the bed, the bed he and Roger shared. Not Ipsy. Fucking Ipsy, what kind of name was that? Even Wesley's anger couldn't cover up the sinking feeling he had in his gut. He wanted to run out, he wanted to shake Roger and get him to come back, he wanted to grab Ric and cry....
Hearing approaching footsteps Wes stood slowly, watching out for "Ipsy." As soon as she entered the room Wes blocked her progress, setting her with pleading, puppy dog eyes that not only showed his confusion but his hurt. "Please... Roger... come back.... just... can I not speak to him? This is... isn't.... Please, Ip - Ipsy... I'm sorry, I had no idea, I just... let me talk to Roger... please..."
---
If there was one thing Ipsy was a sucker for, it was puppy dog eyes. And oh, lordy, did Wesley have them. After fishing Roger's wallet and such out, and trying to get past Wes, Ipsy stood with her arms crossed and her toes tapping, impatient as hell. But her anger faded fast at the look on Wesley's face, and when her arms dropped down to her sides he would know that she wasn't mad anymore.
"He isn't here," she said again, though softly this time. "He's not safe out here. He didn't want to be." She brushed a stray hair from her forehead, looking over Wesley with familiar yet completely strange eyes. "I'm what you're dealing with now, lovey."
---
Ouch. Ouch ouch ouch ouch....
Wes nodded slowly, though his brain was telling him not too. This was unacceptable! How dare this - woman thing - claim ownership over Roger's body! That was just wrong. Completely wrong. Eyes wide and staring at this new form, with almost a completely different face to his Roger, Wes swallowed down, feeling his heart go with it.
"So, uhm..." His voice sounded strained, like he was holding back tears. "Are... he's... gone completely?" He asked, dreading the possible answer.
---
Face softenting, Ipsy's shoulders slumped a little. "Oh, Wes," she murmured, her heart breaking at the sight of him. She certainly didn't want him to cry. "No, not forever. I don't think." Realizing she wasn't being all the reassuring, she stepped back and settled on the edge of the bed, patting the space beside her to indicate Wes should join her.
"The thing is, honey... you've always known it was like this. You were never alone with him, not even from minute one. I don't know why you're so stunned right now."
---
She didn't think?? This was just too much. Wes almost wished he'd got a personality that could come out and help him deal with this, sheild him from the stuff that was going to tear him apart inside. As Ipsy patted the bed beside her Wes was in two minds whether to go sit down. But she was here now, and he owed her... at least the time to listen. And he found himself sitting.
"I... I thought Dante was the only one I'd have to deal with. I was so happy that he was finally mine, and that I could wake up knowing it was Roger I was with and not..." Wes caught himself and drew in a breath, closing his eyes. "Someone else. And now you're telling me that you have no idea if he'll be back. I already lost him once and that was hard enough but..."
---
Nodding, Ipsy patted Wesley's knee, being attentive. She knew this had to be hard on him, that all he wanted was something he clearly wasn't going to get. "Lovey... I know how you feel. I do. But trust me, he isn't gone. You still have him. You've always had him, from the very first kiss. Just because he's out of sight, it doesn't mean he's lost to you."
Slipping an arm around his shoulders, Ipsy drew Wesley close, resting his head on her shoulder. "He'll be back. Of course he will. He loves you, more than the Earth and the sky and the moon, more than anything has every loved anything else. You know he does. When he walks away to his dorm rom, to bunk with that horrible oaf, do you assume he's gone forever? Of course not. Because you know that even though you can't see him, he'll be back. And that's all this is." She smoothed his hair concolingly, humming a little. "I don't want his life," she murmured. "I just want to keep him safe. That's all."
---
Ipsy was trying to be nice and understanding, and Wesley allowed her to comfort him for the moment as she spoke. He couldn't quite believe that Roger would be back and it was hardly the same. Roger was gone physically, not mentally. He hadn't been taken over, nobody else was sharing him. Wes didn't argue this aloud though she'd probably guess what he was thinking.
After a few moments, Wes had to pull away. Feeling close to Roger's body was nice but the knowledge the demon wasn't there to appreciate it... the healer leant up gently, guts twisting. "I... I'm sorry. I can't..." If he didn't run off and scream right now he'd explode.
---
She understood. It was hard for everyone, herself included. She knew that Wesley loved Roger, and vice versa, but really, what could be done about it? It wasn't like she had stolen Roger away. Roger had created her, after all. Letting Wes pull away, she crossed her arms over her lap, cocking her head to study him.
"I know you don't want me," she said, sadness quite evident in her voice, "but if you do ever need anything... I'm here for you, too. If you have any questions, something you need to know about Roger that you don't think he'd talk about. Just ask." Patting his leg once more, Ipsy got to her feet, tugging on her cami to smooth it out. "Suppose I'll need my own," she said to herself, inspecting her outfit.
---
The last thing Wes wanted to do was piss off another personality living in Roger's head but feeling numb at the same time he was about to scream was fogging his sense of manners and politeness, regarding Ipsy's feelings. At least she was being nice, offering help and assistance instead of calling him a faggot and trying to electricute him for touching Roger's body.
"Does Roger know...?" he asked weakly, after a moment of quiet reflection. He was trying to swallow down the feeling of sickness he couldn't quite shake from his stomach.
---
Still looking over her clothing, she was quiet a moment as she pondered Wesley's question. "No, I don't think so," she said finally, seeming as satisfied as she could be with her appearance. "He just sort of... needed to get away. So he went back, and I came out, and he's okay now. Recouperating, the poor love." Looking around the room, she seemed to notice for the first time what a mess it was, clothing all over the floor. Dutifully, Ipsy plucked up a pair of Wesley's jeans and began folding them, feeling the pockets for items, finding a few dollar bills and tossing them onto the bed. Once that pair was folded she moved onto the next, laying each clothing item gently on the bed.
---
Idly, Wesley watched Roger's form toddle around the bedroom folding the messy clothes so neatly, being a proper housewife. It's what his ex wife had used to do, years ago when they'd been happily married. Wes' guts turned at the thought. He was technically going out with a woman too, now. People might consider it cheating but was it reallly when the two people were in the same damn head?
Finding it all too surreal Wes got to his feet and began to shuffle towards the door, hoping beyond belief he'd wake up soon. "Uhm... I'm gonna..." Drink myself to death... "Go make myself useful..." he said quietly.
---
Ipsy was acting like a housewife, because she was. It was her job to clean up messes, sort things out, be a listening ear and a giver of solutions. And right now Wesley and this bedroom needed sorting out.
"If you want to make yourself useful," she said simply, "grab that laundry basket over there and help me sort it. Honestly, you boys wash the clothing and then it sits in the basket for two weeks and gets wrinkled and ends up all over the floor."
---
Wes seriously considered doing what Ipsy said, but the moment he took that step over to the basket he realised what that would mean: acceptance. If he started doing her bidding that would make her real, that would make THIS real, and right now Wes was still praying to whatever fucked up God was playing this game that he'd wake up soon.
"I can't... uhm..." That was all he said before he raised a hand to his head and stumbled out of the room. He needed to find Ric. He would not rest until he found the damn vampire who had a solution to every fucking thing.
---
It was alright. Ipsy understood. These things took time to get used to, and Wesley did not do well when anything happened to Roger. Roger was the drug of the moment, the latest addiction, and addicts did not like when their fix was tampered with or taken away. Plus, on top of craving Roger, Ipsy was certain that Wesley really loved him. That did not help the seeming loss any.
"Guess I shoud leave, then," she said quietly to the empty room. There was no sense in staying if Wesley would avoid her, if it would only upset him. So she would go... once the laundry had been taken care of.