Saturday March 21, 2009
Who: Rorie and Mal What: Checking in and talking Where: Rorie's hotel room When: Early in the morning
Rorie was in a slump. Which was beginning to be the normal anymore. So, he was going to have his self destructive weekend and then Monday he'd be ready to go. So when he had his several bottles of liquor, he decided that he'd play a Russian roulette of sorts with the booze. That ended after the third shot and he just started to drink. That ended up with him in his underwear talking to his dog about toaster strudels. That lead to him to smashing an empty bottle and cutting himself on accident, then the second bottle was doing him in as he just stumbled to the couch and missed it, landing in the floor. The spot he chose to stay in for the time being.
Mal didn't bother to check his phone after that last message to Finn, having begrudgingly promised to go check on one of his idiots. He tracked Rorie to a hotel in Boston, ignoring the front desk clerk and taking the stairs to follow his nose. Rorie was on the fifth floor and apparently alone except for several bottles, opened and drained. Whispering, Mal spelled the door open and walked inside, seeing the young man sprawled on the floor. He huffed softly.
Rorie didn't expect anyone, so when the door opened and he couldn't see who it was, he tried to make his drunken mind work and use his powers, but that didn't work so well. Instead the lights flickered on and off and that was it. "Whosit?" He grunted, looking up and squinting before getting a whiff of Mal's smell. "What're ya doin' here?" Attempting to get up, he got to all fours and stumbled to his shaky legs.
Mal snorted, shutting the door behind him. "Apparently playing more the role of the obedient puppy than I have in my long years," he muttered to himself. He was not at all happy with current circumstances.
"What?" Rorie said, looking confused, swaying a bit. "You're not a puppy though. You're a big, dangerous killer dog," he said, taking a swig from his bottle, ignoring the blood on his other hand. "Not to mention my husband, so. . . What are you really doing here?"
He watched Rorie sway on the floor, smelling the blood on his hands and the booze on his breath. "When was the last time you showered?"
"I showered before drinking," he said with a shrug as he took another swig. "Just. . . Been drinking for a few. . . Several. . . A lotta hours," Rorie grunted as he started attempt to walk closer to Mal. "Want some?"
The hound walked closer, reaching out to take the bottle from Rorie. Mal took a heft swig from it, taking Rorie's other hand and holding up the bloodied limb. "And you got this how?"
"I smashed a bottle in the sink," he said, swaying even with Mal standing there right next to him. "Got mad cause it didn't have anymore in it," Rorie said as he, swayed more, going forward and ending up face planting against Mal's chest. "You smell good," he mumbled.
Sighing, Mal caught Rorie as he fell. "Well, then let's go get cleaned up again." He made it sound like a perfectly reasonable solution and started to guide Rorie to the bathroom.
"Mkay," Rorie said as he leaned on Mal while he was lead to the bathroom. Pete was on the bed sleeping when they came in to go through the bedroom to get to the bathroom. "Hey Petey, you favorite person's here," Rorie sang as they came through, laughing.
Mal grumbled at the canine, acknowledging the worried whimper with a nod. He led the man into the bathroom, turning on the water in the shower to as hot as a human could stand it, which was still much colder than Mal would have liked.
"Why're you makin' it so hawt?" Rorie grumbled as he looked confused at the hot steam coming from the shower. "How did you even get here?" He asked, his drunken mind only getting worse with the hot shower. "Thought you'd be with Garret."
Immediately, Mal turned the water a bit cooler, letting the tub start to fill. Rorie couldn't really stand, so asking him to remain upright in a shower was stupid. A bath with Mal staying nearby was a better option. "Well, I'm here. Time to get undressed."
"I. . . Okay," Rorie said, pushing his underwear down. Getting completely naked, he waited till the bath was done and slowly stepped in. "Why'm I takin' a bath?" He asked as he sat in the tub, confused as he looked down and saw the water turning red from the blood on his hand as it soaked and kinda cleaned itself off.
Mal lowered the toilet seat and sat down, pointing at the patch of red in the water. "That's why."
Blinking, he watched it as he lifted it out of the water and watched it wash away a bit. "Oh," he said as he slowly got it and washed his hand a bit, Wincing, he washed himself, showing off the gashes on his hand. "I'm so stupid," he groaned, leaning back in the tub. It was a nice one. Built to have two people in it. It was a hotel after all. "So how pissed are you?" He asked, looking at Mal a bit loopy, the pain and water sobering him up a bit. Not to mention his lycan metabolism.
Mal watched understanding sink in like a blow to the head, though it was less satisfying than the real thing would have been. Looking at his hand, he saw bits of blood from Rorie on him and slowly burned it off. "Enough. Pissed at you. At Garret."
"I'm sorry," he sighed, leaning back. "I know everyone's pissed at me. They've all made it clear. Not sure why you're pissed at Garret though," he said. Rorie just needed to soak for a bit. Maybe that was what he needed right then. A good soak and maybe less alcohol.
"Don't worry about it." Since Mal still held the bottle, he took another drink, not worried about him being anything less than sober. It took much more than a couple bottles of cheap booze to get him drunk.
"Kinda gotta since we're married and all. Look where my secrets got us," he said motioning around them, wincing and just letting his hurt hand stay in the water. "Let this be a lesson to you about hiding things. It never ends well. Don't try to make decisions on your own either. That'll get you in hot water too. In fact, all you should do is just hang around and-and just do nothing unless it's keeping you alive. . ." He groaned, letting his head hang over the back of the tub.
Mal rolled his eyes, finishing off the bottle and tossing it in the sink. "Don't think about it. Just chill out for right now." Maybe another one of those bottles wouldn't be a bad idea, especially if he was going to be babysitting Rorie.
"Water's freakin' me out," Rorie mumbled as his water turned pale pink. Making a face, he started to push himself up and stand. He wasn't swaying nearly as badly as he was, plus for the evening. "Towels," he said as he stepped out onto the bath mat. The towels were the large fluffy kind. The ones that cost you a nice suit. Liam didn't spare expense for Rorie, the one good thing he did as a father.
Mal waved his hand, the plug shifting out of the way to let the tub drain. Reaching out, he grabbed one of the towels, taking a moment to run his hands over it to warm the material. "Here."
"Thanks," Rorie said as he took the towel and dried off. His arm was sore, but wasn't bleeding. it was in bad shape though. "I think I have bandaids in the bathroom. . . We are in the bathroom. Cupboard. Bandages in the cupboard," he said, sitting on the edge of the tub, cradling his hurt arm.
Mal reached out, grabbing Rorie's arm. "Do you trust me?" While he waited for the answer, he glanced over the wounds.
"Of course," Rorie said without even blinking. "Why?" He asked, confused. He was sobering up, but not quite there yet. "What're you going to do?" He asked.
Shrugging, Mal warmed his hands. "I'm going to take care of the problem." Focusing, he started to whisper in Hellenic, the sounds incredibly foreign on his tongue. He whispered a healing spell, watching the wounds stitch closed.
Gasping softly, Rorie watched his arm fix itself. It felt so weird, combined with the strange sound of Mal's words. After a moment, his hand was fine. "Thanks," he said as he worked his friend, finding it to be pain free. "What did you do?"
: Mal shrugged, standing and getting ready to leave the room. "Just a spell. Don't get too rough with it. It's just a surface heal."
"Kay," Rorie said as he worked his hand a few seconds before standing up. Walking out, he looked at Mal. "How do you think I should make this up to you and Garret and Finn and everyone else?" He asked.
Mal moved to the sofa in the sitting room, taking a seat and dropping back against the cushions. "That's a very good question. And one I can't answer."
Rorie followed, taking a seat on the ottoman. "Garret just doesn't wanna see me for a while. Finn doesn't wanna see me, I figured you'd just take no side and let us fight it out," he said as he looked at the other. "Cause you were mad at us both."
"I'm more than mad," the hound grumbled. He needed to be careful or he was going to start scorching furniture. "Looks like a wonderful marriage with everyone killing someone and being angry for it."
"I'm sorry," Rorie said, looking at the floor. It didn't feel good at all to have Mal mad at him. "Last time I checked I was the only one that killed someone recently," he said, looking at his feet.
"You're not. Not even the most recent." Mal glanced at Rorie. "Planning on staying away from me all night?" He'd completed his promise, so he could leave with no regrets, he just didn't know if he wanted to.
"I thought you just came here to check up on me then would leave," Rorie said looking up at Mal. "Everyone else is too mad to be around me, figured you would be too." It wasn't a stretch to think so after the fight with Garret.
"Well I can always live down to expectations," Mal offered dryly.
"Sorry I forgot you weren't a sheep," Rorie said getting up and going to the kitchen. He didn't know what was worse, being around people and having them remind you how mad they are at you or being alone.
Mal hadn't said anything to Rorie about it beyond answering his question, and truly he was getting rather tired of all these human emotions. It was much easier when he just had to follow orders and not think for himself, not think about the consequences beyond 'obey'.
Everything was messed up and getting mad at Mal for being Mal wasn't going to help. Sighing, he came back in and sat next to Mal. "I'd like you to stay if you want to," he said, looking at Mal.
Mal nodded, staying silent and stewing for the moment. He needed to get over this. Wanted to get over this so that it wasn't so frustrating for him. Stupid human emotions.
So now everyone was even more pissed. Great. Instead of getting huffy though, Rorie just stayed sitting next to Mal, letting him make the move so he could be in control. He was letting Mal be in charge and be the one to call the shots for now since the other was obviously upset that he wasn't even considered anymore.
This wasn't what Mal wanted to deal with right now, so he closed his eyes, focusing on clearing his mind and his emotional plate. Humans called it meditation. He called it self-preservation. After a couple minutes, he calmed down, no longer in danger of torching the place or dislocating someone's head. He turned to glance at Rorie and frowned. "Why so nervous?"
"You're a predator and you're mad," Rorie said, looking up at Mal and answering honestly. "I've seen you mad before. You're not exactly a puppy where you gnaw on things when you get mad," he said, referring to when Mal took Rorie to the hospital and Garret got very upset.
Mal shrugged. "I've put it aside for now. It's too exhausting to keep up."
"Okay," Rorie said. "Do you want to go to bed?" He asked, looking at the clock and seeing it was nearly 4 in the morning.
Mal looked a the clock along with Rorie. He wasn't particularly tired, but Rorie wouldn't sleep if Mal was awake. "Yes. We should sleep." Rising to his feet, he waited for Rorie to join him and started back to the bedroom.
"Okay," Rorie nodded, following Mal into the bedroom. Tossing the towel to the side, he hadn't bothered with underwear or anything. They were married, so what did it matter? Getting in the king sized bed, he laid there waiting for Mal and wondering if he'd allow the younger man to curl up to him.
Mal climbed into the bed as well, laying on his back. Rorie was welcome to do whatever he chose because the hound was finally back in a place where he no longer cared.
Letting Mal get settled, Rorie waited a moment before he turned onto his side to face Mal. Slowly, he scooted over till he was curled up next to him. He didn't wrap around him like he usually did, instead he just laid pressed against him.
Mal turned up his body heat a bit. Rorie was naked, the room was cool and the sheets cold. "Still nervous?"
"No," Rorie said softly as he felt more relaxed. "Just tired," he mumbled, placing a hand on Mal's arm as he usually did. Gently, he ran his fingers up and down his bicep like he was petting him, but more respectfully so he can easily say 'no' or not.
Mal shifted, giving Rorie room to move closer if he wanted. "Then go to sleep. I'll stay."
"Kay," Rorie said as he did that. Moving closer, he settled his head against Mal's chest, trying to get comfortable against him. "Will you stay with us?" He asked, meaning him and Garret.
Mal sighed, staring at the ceiling. "I don't know," he answered softly. Part of him wanted to, but given the conversation he'd had with Garret earlier, it was likely that he wasn't going to be wanted around.
"Please," he said, tightening his grip on Mal a bit. "I married you as well as Garret. Don't leave," Rorie looked up at him, hating that he caused this whole mess. It was all his fault and he knew it. "I don't want you to go."
Mal looked down at Rorie, genuinely surprised at the request. "I know you did. I wouldn't leave because of what you've done, but of what I've done it seems."
"I don't care. The point of getting married is that we don't care what you've done in the past, but that we love each other. That's why I marred Garret and you. Not just Garret," Rorie said, sitting up a bit to look at him.
"I used to run a mob. It's been awhile, but Garret couldn't handle that." He may as well tell Rorie now, since it would probably come out eventually.
"Do you have anything to do with it now?" Rorie asked plainly.
Mal shrugged. "Not directly."
"Define directly," Rorie said.
"I set some clauses in my rules that allows any descendant of mine to take over, if they so chose." Mal shrugged, not thinking it was all that important. He hadn't done anything with it for the past century. It was just a nice backup in case he got bored.
"So if you wanted to, you could show up and say you wanted to take over?" Rorie asked, wanting to make sure he was getting it. It wasn't horrible or terrifying, but it was something. It wasn't a deal breaker unless Mal actually went back. This was before Rorie, before Garret. That was a different Mal entirely.
Mal nodded. "That's right. Though I'd explain myself as a great-grandson or something so it wasn't expected. Coming back to take over the original family business." He'd thought it through, already had the paperwork drawn up, it just needed a signature to go into effect. Still, Mal wasn't planning on using it any time soon. He had his hands full as it was.
"Do you wanna go back to it? Like would rather be there?" Rorie asked. It was strange being on the questioner side of things with Mal. Usually he was under fire. "I'm not mad that you have that as a part of you," he said, leaning over Mal, kissing him softly.
The kiss was unexpected. Welcome, but unexpected given that it was a fate Rorie had just escaped and here Mal was talking about having already done it and ready to go back. "Maybe. Eventually. I've got my hands full right now." He sighed, understanding that Rorie may not like that answer. "I'm bred to kill. Brutally, viscously and to not get caught. I have taken pleasure in it and do." His voice grew thick thinking about the last time he'd bloodied his hands on the job. There was a thrill to it that made him burn, that neither Rorie nor Garret would understand. Maybe he should leave after all.
"I know you are," Rorie said softly. "I remember." He wasn't as naive as people thought. He knew Mal was dangerous, was able to kill without thinking twice. There wasn't a shred of doubt in Rorie that if he had to or really wanted to, he would do it without hesitation. "Is it getting that hard?" He asked, sitting back a bit. Maybe it was a good thing this had happened. Now Mal was having doubts and issues and no one had asked him anything.
"Is what that hard?" Mal wasn't sure quite what Rorie was asking.
"Dealing with me and Garret. We're selfish and. . . I hate to just now be finding this out, but we haven't really asked you about anything. What you want, what you need, if you wanna help. . . We're not being fare to you and expecting everything from you only when we want it. Not when you can give it and if you want to give it."
Mal shrugged. "Comes with the territory, I guess." He wasn't going to admit, that yes, dealing, living with and loving the two of them was the hardest challenge he'd had to date. He was no longer treated with the respect that most humans earned with years, instead looked at as someone who did not and could not understand. Someone with a handicap. And yet, after being kicked out of Hades, Mal knew it was better than he deserved. So he kept his mouth shut.
"I wanna. . . I need to be a better husband for you too, Mal. Not just Garret. I don't want you to go away from this and think that you're just a pet for us. I know you're not. I know and understand what you are and I haven't thought for one second you're anything less. That's why I didn't tell you, because I knew you could and would kill Liam and anyone else that got in the way of that and I didn't want that," Rorie said.
Mal sighed softly. He was a pet and he knew it. It was past time he resigned himself to it.
"You're not. . ." Rorie sighed, frustrated. "I want the old Mal back," he said finally. "I want the Mal that wouldn't just lay there and resign himself to being a dog to someone," he said. That was the main part. The fact that when he brought it up, Mal didn't deny it. "You are not a pet, you are my husband. Pete is my pet and I don't want you to humor me. I know I fucked up and I don't want to lose you or Garret, but I don't want you to end up hating what you are because of my shit."
Mal finally chuckled and shook his head. "Which me do you want back? The one that made you nearly piss your pants when you first met me? Or the more human one you've come to know?"
"Both. I want you, Mal. You've. . . You've settled in a bad way. You've lost that. . . That spark. That-that thing about you that makes you happy and you. You're not yourself," he sighed. "I want you to be happy. I want you to be able to not feel like you gotta just not say anything so things will be okay. If you're not okay with this, tell us. I've kinda had a lot to think about and time to think about it and. . . I love you, I really do."
: Mal nodded slowly, the reached out to tuck Rorie back to his side. "Alright. You've said what you needed to say. Now go to sleep." Rorie'd had time to think things through. Now it was Mal's turn to determine where he wanted things to go from here.
Grunting, Rorie went back to being tucked back against Mal. "I love you," he mumbled against Mal's chest, scratching his belly slightly as he huffed and settled down. He may have started out with only pressing against Mal, but he ended up curled around him like he usually did. Legs tangled with the others along with his his arms around him.