Finn O'Bannon (finnurmind) wrote in tiberiusswann, @ 2012-01-09 11:13:00 |
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Entry tags: | finn, garret |
Saturday March 21, 2009
Who: Garret and Finn
What: Drinking and sitting on each other
Where: Garret's house
When: Evening
Finn had broken his foot. He was in a mood after breaking up with his girlfriend and was now on his way to Garret's after being carried like a potato sack from his apartment to the infirmary. He didn't want to be around anyone and he had felt a bit better after talk to Garret, but went back to being moody when he had his leg healed. The infirmary was never his friend and he didn't want to make friends. So, now instead of waiting for the wrath of Ash or her brother to rain down upon him, he was being proactive and ran away like the chicken shit he was.
After coming back from his coffee run, and then going to save Finn (and bringing him to the infirmary and waiting around until he was okay and yadda yadda), he had actually gone back to work for the planned double shift. But it was a surprisingly slow Saturday, and after staring at a screen for fifteen minutes without blinking or seeing anything on it, Adam had come up to Garret, watched him a moment, tapped him on the shoulder and told him to go home already. So, he did.
It was a little after ten when he pulled into the driveway, purposely keeping his eyes from looking to see if Mal (or Rorie) was next door. He didn't care. He didn't want to know. But Finn was at his house, and that actually made him smile. He wouldn't have to be alone tonight. "Hey princess," he called as he entered, shrugging out of his coat and dropping it onto the table by the door. "I'm home. Earlier than expected, so you'd better be wearing pants."
"Har har," Finn grumbled as he closed the fridge, holding his second beer of the night. He wasn't planning on getting drunk, but buzzed was nice. Something to lull him to sleep. "I'm in the kitchen douche," he said as he opened the beer and taking a drink. "I called in a pizza. Yours is right there," he said pointing to the meat lovers that was warm in the oven. He himself had a cheese pizza. Finn was not in a mood to mess with things. For that night, he just wanted his brain to be off.
"I was lazy and you didn't have anything that didn't really require meat to be in it without making it just mush, so. . . Pizza," he said, pulling his slice of cheese pizza onto a plate and added ranch.
Stepping out of his shoes (and leaving them in the middle of the hallway as he did so), Garret went into the kitchen and grabbed his own been from the fridge. Buzzed sounded awesome. It sounded better than awesome, it sounded perfect. Drunk would probably be better though. "Aww, sweetie... you're too good to me." He blew Finn a kiss, opened the oven and pulled out a slice of the pie, taking a large bite from it. Mmm, meat. Finn was a dumbass for not wanting this savory deliciousness in his mouth. "Sho want do you wanna do t'night?" he asked around a mouth full of food, hopping up onto the counter and letting his feet swing.
"I used your credit card," Finn said holding it up before taking a bite of his pizza. "Drunk does not sound like a good idea," he said, not caring that he was listening in on Garret's thoughts. He didn't care about much right then. "Drunk gets you in trouble and I don't feel like exploring our relationship tonight," he said looking up at Garret. "I've had enough of relationships for a while."
Frowning, Garret grunted, then took a nice long drink just to be spiteful. "I'm not gonna fuck you," he said moodily. "So let me drink in peace, okay mummy? And stop listening to my head! It's rude." He didn't want Finn invading his mental space because he kept thinking about things, and he didn't want to talk about those things. "I just wanna be drunk and sleepy and happy for just one damn night. Can we do that? Can we just be happy for one night?"
"I didn't think you were going to fuck me, I figured I'd end up nose diving into your crotch because I can't see straight," Finn said making a face. He was quiet for a moment, deliberating. "Drinking contest?" He asked after a moment. "With the whiskey in the cabinet?" That seemed fair. Hell, they could control themselves drunk, it was just. . . Well there wasn't really a reason why he didn't want to. Maybe he should just let go and get drunk. "How's that sound?" He asked as he finished his pizza.
The suggestion brought a wide grin to Garret's face. "Yeah!" he agreed happily, hopping down from the counter and chugging down the rest of the beer. "The last time we did this it ended really badly, so... this time should be great!" And if not, who gives a fuck, not like it matters. Setting the bottle in the sink, Garret practically flounced to the liquor cabinet, grabbing the whiskey. It was one Rorie picked out, and for a moment Garret felt a pang of regret and sorrow. But he brushed it away quickly. "Come on, Finnykins! To the living room so we don't fall down and crack our skulls."
"The last time we did this, I ended up drunk as hell and you had to take care of me. . . After I started to sniff you. . . It can't end that bad," Finn shrugged, ignoring Garret's thoughts. He really should put that guard. Going up behind Garret, he started to look at the alcohol. "Dude!" He cried, eyes going wide. "This one's signed by Shane Macgowan! Where did you get this?!" He asked as he picked up the bottle of whiskey. "We shouldn't drink this. It's like. . . Blasphemy," he said in awe of the bottle.
For a moment, Garret said nothing, just looking at the bottle. "I asked him to sign something," he said vaguely. "So he sent me that. It was Rorie's Christmas present." For a moment, he thought about drinking it. He thought about chugging all of it down and then washing the signature right off the bottle. A flare of spiteful anger burned hot inside him for a moment, but it subsided quickly. He took it from Finn and set it back in the cabinet. "That stays there. We drink the other one." The cabinet shut, the mostly full bottle of very pricey whiskey in his grip. He grabbed Finn's arm and pulled him along, taking them both to the couch.
"Kay," Finn said, not knowing because he missed those presents. "Ow, ow, ow, Garret, ow," he said as he was dragged to the living room. For once Finn wasn't totally at fault for putting his foot in his mouth because he didn't know. Sitting on the couch, he stayed quiet, feeling the hurt and anger and all the nasty feelings the other had flowing off of him and he left him alone. He let him call the shots because that would make Garret feel better. . . Maybe. Finn was playing ti by ear now as he was with an angry Garret that wanted to drink.
Flopping onto the sofa, Garret unscrewed the bottle and took a long drink, then handed it over to Finn. "Wait... so what's the contest exactly? I mean what are the stakes?" He didn't like losing, but he loved playing. Drinking games were a specialty.
"Um. . . How about if you can walk a straight line after we finish this bottle, then. . . You get to pick something for me to do? No. . . it's gotta be good. Okay, I win, you buy me a car. You win, I'll name my first born after you," Finn said, thinking that was an even trade, especially since Garret could afford the car and Finn was not likely to have children.
Nodding, Garret motioned for Finn to hurry up and drink, so he could take the bottle back and drink. "Okay," he said simply. "But honestly, Finn, if you want a car, I'll buy you one." Swallowing, Garret settled back on the cushions, and sighed. "We should watch something. Something fun. OH!" Gasping, he grinned, turned slowly to look at Finn with a bit of a leer. "We should watch a porn. I haven't watched a porno with a friend in decades!"
Taking the drink like he was supposed to, he gave it back to Garret, wincing a bit. It had been a while since he'd actually been drunk or drank. His tolerance was low so this would get interesting quickly. "I don't want a car. I have one. Besides, if I wanted one, I'd get it myself," he said, letting Garret take a drink before taking it back. "Porn?" Finn said as he looked back at Garret, worried about the look he was getting. "Sure," he shrugged taking a drink from the bottle. "I've never watched porn with a friend ever," he said.
Oddly, Garret's motive behind the choice in film wasn't sexual. Some films, particularly classics, were just funny. And some of thwm were very well made. "In college, my roommate and I would hold screenings in our rooms and a group of us would watch and discuss," Garret explained, getting up from the couch to rifle through the DVDs at the back of the movie cabinet. "It was pretty funny, with the commentary we did and everything. I'm pretty sure I saw a few boners from time to time but it never turned into a sex fest or anything. Sadly." Looking through his titles, his eyes lit up when he came across one of his favorites. "Debbie Does Dallas," he said fondly, pulling it out. "A classic. I've seen this thing about a hundred thousand times and it never gets old." Setting it into the X-Box, Garret turned on the system, set it to all the proper channels, pulled off his shirt (and left it on the floor) and sat back on the couch, taking another drink before handing the bottle over.
"Did you- yeah you did," Finn said as Garret took his shirt off and tossed it to the side. Oh well. "Debbie Does Dallas is a good one. That was my go to when I was bored and wanted to laugh," he snickered as he took the bottle. He was already feeling the buzz now. Taking another swig, he handed the bottle back over. 'It was always extra funny drunk," he chuckled, feeling good and kinda noodly. Like a limp noodle. Like he was loosey goosey. No smelling Garret though. No smelling. Good Finn.
Every movie that started with cheerleaders was a good one. The sappy, loose feeling was radiating from Finn, and Garret laughed a little. "God I missed this," he said after a moment, once the girls were in the locker room and the beginning credits had ended. "Just sitting with someone, without some huge... thing looming overhead. Just having fun, you know? Can't remember the last time things were just fun." Taking a long drink, Garret wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and passed over the now half empty bottle. "Being with them feels like work lately. Greece was amazing, but everything aside from that is just... it's shit. Mostly shit. I hate it." He grumbled a little, and let his head fall onto Finn's shoulder. "Wish I'd never come back to America. OH there's Debbie's boobs, God I was in love with that woman..."
"Watching movies with Ash and making fun of the romantic sappy ones," Finn said with a loopy smile before it turned into a frown. Damn it. Just. . . Damn it. He had really liked her. Really, really liked her. "Gimme," he grunted taking the bottle and taking a long, long drink. "Everything's work," he said, feeling the alcohol easily take over his system and he didn't care. "Nothin's easy and it never will be. This is why-this is why you don't try," he said before getting distracted by the boobs as well. "They're bouncy as shit, dude," he chuckled, taking another drink and feeling slightly sick from the sudden rush of alcohol. No sicky-sick. Handing the bottle back, he'd take it easier after this one. Maybe.
"I hate work. I don't like work, I like fun. The University was fun. I was so good at that job. And I was so good at being with Lloyd, too, up til that last bit. We were happy. I wanted kids and marriage and all of that... dunno how I ruined it so completely..." He took another drink, swallowing and groaning a little at the protest it made going down. Whiskey was certainly not water, and shouldn't have been going down as quickly.
"And I like you, too. A lot. You know not.... y'know, a lot, but a lot. I've grown attached to you, Finnykins. You're good company. You remind me a lot of me sometimes. And you like those boobs, too. I like those boobs. Those are the first boobs I saw totally naked, they're spectacular."
"Fun was freshman year in college. Rorie was my roommate so he didn't steal any of my girls and I had sex all the time and I could get drunk after two bottles of whiskey and a six pack. My liver felt like it was on fire the day after," he groaned. "I miss having meaningless flings and just having sex without worrying if the other person is gonna freak out and get attached or if I have to see them the next day at work. . . It was soooooo much easier than doing relationships. I am an emotional masochist. . . That explains it. . ." He said in sudden realization, looking at Garret.
"Dude, I like ya too. Fuh-get about it," he snickered, leaning against Garret. "Gawd, here comes tha Jersey," he said, his accent coming through, full swing and almost in an over exaggeration. "Seriously though, you're one of my best friends. One of the only two friends I have and you are awesome." Taking the bottle and taking a swig. Oh he was getting there very quickly. This was obvious as he shifted and put his head in Garret's lap. "Ya comfy," he mumbled, practically hugging his legs now.
When Finn slumped over into Garret's lap, the pathfinder in turn fell a bit sideways as well. "Jersey boy," he teased, ruffling Finn's hair a bit. "You sound like you belong on the Jersey Shore. You and Snookie and... and that one with the shirt." The Synergy? The Stitcher? Something stupid. But no matter. The Sincher wasn't Garret's friend. Finn was. "I like it. I like you as a friend. I like getting along with you and not hating you." He paused, sitting up a little, an elbow resting on Finn's ribcage. "Y'know it's funny. I think if I had met you before Rorie, I probably wouldn't have noticed him like I did. I think I'd like you and we'd be friends and he'd just be your brother, which'd mean he'd be off limits. Weird, huh? How things sometimes are?"
"Noo, no Snookie. She'd eat me with her vagina," Finn pouted. He laid there, arms wrapped around Garret's legs. "If you'd met me before Rorie. . . You'd have never met him," Finn giggled. "Crazy, remember? I woulda made sure that everyone thought he was worthless and helpless and handicapped. It's what I did at school, around the neighborhood. I always wanted to make sure that he didn't have anyone besides me, so you would have never met him. I woulda made sure," he mumbled, rolling over to look up at Garret.
Finn was right, and Garret frowned a little because he knew he was right. The way Finn used to be was awful, and on second thought, if Garret had met him he probably would've hated him even without knowing about Rorie. It was Finn now, how he had changed, that Garret liked. Everyone was so different from before, because so much had happened. Rorie was different, Finn was, Mal was... even Garret himself.
"I don't think I like it anymore," he said out of the blue, his hand absently petting Finn's hair. "In fact, no. I hate it. I hate this marriage, I hate this life, I hate who everybody has turned into. And I hate that Max moved out and Rorie's in... well wherever the crap he is! And Mal is furious at me for I guess not letting him come kill your dad or whatever the reason is, I don't know. And I really hate all of it." He growled softly, the alcohol shifting him into Angry Drunk mode. (There were only two drunk modes, angry and horny.) "Declan thinks I'm a prat for being mad at Rorie, and Mal just think I'm a prat... of course, he always did... I've no idea why he agreed to stay with me. Maybe because he's got nowhere better to be and he's got lots of time to kill. Well I don't want to be a time killer!" Standing up (and knocking poor Finn to the floor), Garret held the bottle aloft, as though it were a beacon of truth. "Fuck it all! I should just go and leave and then they can do and kill whatever they who and want!!"
"Ah!" Finn cried, going to the floor. Glaring up at him, Finn slapped him on the calf. "Jerk face," he grunted, slowly getting up. "You're annoying you know," he mumbled, standing wobbly before going to the couch. "You-you talk about how it doesn't matter what people think of you, of-of how I should just be by myself and then you jump to leaving, again. You do that a lot you know that?" He said, before standing up. "Share," he grunted, grabbing the bottle and taking another drink. "Be a man. I get yelled at for trying to leave, you get yelled for trying to leave. Jerkface," he said trying to make an adult face.
Finn was the one being a jerk! Didn't he understand that staying, going, he wsa damned no matter what? Garret scowled at the other man, reluctantly handing over the bottle. Of course he was jumping to leave. Why would he stay? Rorie could go off and be in the mob and Mal could run it if he wanted to and they wouldn't care much if Garret was around or not. They could do better anyway and they knew it.
But they hadn't. Both Rorie and Mal could do better than a sad old man-child, but time and time again they came back to Garret. And why? He scratched his chest, brow furrowed in thought. Why? "They love me," he said softly, looking at Finn as though he, too, should've come to the same conclusion. "And I love them... and I am never gonna do any better than Mal and Rorie." Flopping back onto the couch beside Finn, Garret let his hands drop in his lap, defeated. "How could I? I'm manipulative and pushy and bossy and sometimes downright mean, and they always come back and they love me. They married me! Both of them, because they wanted to! Oh God..." Groaning, Garret's head fell back against the couch and he sighed, staring up at the ceiling. "I love them so much."
Finn listened, silently happy that Garret was saying he loved Mal and Rorie, but also drunk and emotional. "Aw, man," he said, tearing up a bit. "You're so lucky," he sniffled. "This is just like when Ryan Gossling told Tia Leoni he loved her in 'My Best Friend's Wedding." Of course that was all his drunken mind telling that it was the right even if none of it made sense. "If Rorie could love me, why couldn't he love you? I mean, I did terrorize him and abuse him and hurt him in every possible way," he said before going quiet.
"You've-you've got it good and you suck for it," he said, jabbing Garret in the leg. "You make it so easy, easy that-that people just like you and fall for you. Two people! Two! It's just not fair," he grunted, pushing Garret over on the sofa, or trying to at least. "You-suck," he huffed, making himself move over and start pushing Garret with his feet. Maybe it was the anger he was getting from Garret or jealousy or angst or something, because Finn's attitude was changing with Garret's accordingly now.
At first, Garret took the shoving easily, letting himself fall over a bit because he was still lost in his own mind because of how much he loved his boys. But when Finn got rougher, and he was being properly jostled, the older man grunted and started shoving back. "You think it was easy?" he scoffed, planting a hand on Finn's face and shoving him back against the arm of the couch. "You have no clue, kid! When I first got here, people hated me! LOTS of people hated me! The guy who was fucking Lloyd hated me, and his fiance hated me, Lloyd's friends hated me... I had Lloyd and Cherry and that was it. And then, when things went to hell with Lloyd, I had Cherry and that was it. I was the worst person to ever walk the Earth, I'm telling you, people glared daggers when I walked by. Like I'd set a church on fire." Crawling up to his knees, Garret leaned over Finn and punched him in the arm. "Everyone's always hated me here, always. Rorie's friends, Wesley's friends, Lloyd's friends and his stupid fucking fiance, so many damn people! And I had to smile and take it and play the villain and make everyone happy! So don't tell me I make it easy because it sucked! It sucked it sucked it suuuuuuuuuuucked."
"Ack," Finn grunted as he was pushed back onto the arm of the couch. Finn hated this because he couldn't help but feed off of Garret unprotected emotions. "Mah face!" He cried as he wriggled down enough that Garret wasn't on his head anymore. "I did set the church on fire," he huffed before crying out at the punch. "Stop hitting me!" He growled, grabbing onto Garret's wrist. "I know how it feels, because that's mah life right now,." Finn said as he tried to figure out how to get the older man off of him, but his drunk brain wasn't going to let him do that. "Everyone does hate me here. Whether or not they know why or not is beside the point. I came here the villain and will always be the villain because people can't change. I can't change. I'm always going to put my hand down Rorie's pants when you're not looking, I'll be trying to kill someone because that's what I do. I kill and rape and molest and I don't care," Finn snarled, trying to shove Garret off of him, but he was not going to be able to with his liquor heavy limbs.
"Oh, God," Garret groaned, rolling his eyes dramatically. "Don't. Be. An asshead!" Another punch was delivered, to Finn's shoulder this time, before Garret shifted himself and let his head rest on the younger man's chest, his body covering Finn's and pretty much taking up the entire couch. He felt so frustrated right now, and sad, and a little angry too. Damn Finn and his leaky filter.
"Listen, you... comfortable little man pillow. People change all the damn time. And you won't be a villain forever, and you won't always feel like this forever, and someday you're gonna wake up and realize that you accidentally fell into happiness. Because you're not a rapist, killer, molester. Not really. You're just... you need..." What did Finn need? Telling him he needed someone to love him, that he needed to love himself, seemed entirely too cliche. So turning his head to look at Finn, who didn't look as pleased that Garret was laying on him as Garret felt to be there. "I fuckin' love you, fuckbag," he said simply, with a bit of a goofy drunk grin.
"Stop hitting me!" Finn yelled, getting mad. He was about tired of getting hit repeatedly, especially by Garret. "Hit me again and I will make you wish you were passed out!" He threatened. He half way listened to the other man, focused on the fact that he had a grown man on top of him making it hard to breath as he struggled harder to try and get out from under him. "Jerkface get off!" He yelled,
This was just. . . Augh. He was half tempted to just dive head first into Garret's head to make him get up. It usually caused more confusion and a slight headache when he did it, that was just for the person he was getting into. Still though. . . He didn't have to see anything really, . . . maybe. For right now though, he'd settle for pushing Garret as hard as he possibly could.
This was getting frustrating. Pushing himself up onto his knees, Garret grabbed Finn by the wrists and tugged him upward, until they were face to face and Garret was holding tight to the offending limbs. "Why can't you take things at face value!" he shouted soberly in Finn's face. "You are likeable! People want you around despite all the shit you do! Rorie will always want you around! I KILLED A MAN FOR YOU!! How many clear pictures do we have to paint for you to get it into your dumb, stupid head?!?"
Oh he was going to kill Garret. "Why can't you!?" He screamed back, struggling harder. Finn was losing control and being drunk and pushed and antagonized was not making it better. "Get off me now before I fuckin' kill you!" He yelled. The younger man was getting red in the face, sweating a bit. He didn't want to do this. Didn't want to fight with Garret about this or say anything like that. "Get. Off," he warned again, giving Garret one last chance before he just ripped into his psyche.
If Finn wanted to fight, they could. Garret was more than willing to tear into him, rip him limb from limb if the need arose. Finn might be able to do psychological damage, but Garret could easily beat the shit outta him. It would be hard to make anybody brain dead when you were sucking your meals through a straw.
"I don't know why!" he shot back, ignoring the demands, keeping his grip tight on Finn's wrists. "I don't know! But I want it to stop, I want it to sink in! I wanna beat you into a bloody dead pulp because maybe if I can make you understand then I can finally understand it! If I can make you get it then I'll finally get it and I can stop being so goddamn scared of it!!" Growling through gritted teeth, Garret stared Finn down, his eyes burning with drunk, desperate intensity. "So just... get it, please, for fuck's sake!"
"I get it, now get OFF!" Finn screamed into Garret's face before doing what he planned and just dove right into Garret's head. He'd only done it once and that was a horrible memory of a last ditch effort the first time the mobsters had come around to check on him. Instead of just wading through, he sprinted through Garret's head causing a ruckus to try and get him confused for a moment so he could get him off of him.
It felt like an ice pick was driving right through Garret's forehead, a swarm of flashes of images and voices from all these people crowding his mind space. Hissing in pain, both hands dropped Finn's to press against his forehead, trying to alleviate the sting. For a moment, he forgot where he was, forgot what he'd been saying, what they'd been talking about. It was all just nonsense in his head.
There was his window. Shoving Garret off of him, he quickly stopped and got up. Groaning, he slowly got up from the couch and tried to breath. It was a good defense, but it was only in a last ditch effort because it hurt Finn almost as much as it hurt Garret. Holding his head for a moment, he took a breath and then another as he focused on blanking his mind and calming down. That's what he needed to do right then. "I told you to get up," he said as he leaned against the wall, wiping his nose as it bled slightly.
After a while things started to make sense, and Garret figured out that Finn had basically run a truck through his brain. Rubbing his head, Garret glanced up briefly at Finn, grabbed the whisky bottle from the floor and got to his feet. He felt sober now, like he hadn't been drinking at all tonight. The forced moans of bad 70s porno still played in the background as Garret took another drink from the bottle, then brought it with him as he headed for the stairs.
"You were too much," Finn said as Garret walked past him. 'I couldn't block you out and it just got worse and worse. It was either do that or suffocate," he said looking at the other before following him towards the stairs. He still felt the slight sway of the alcohol in him, but it had let up enough that he was willing to just go pass out with Garret, wherever he was going.
Pausing in his movements, Garret turned and faced Finn, his voice low and dull. "I'd rather you'd suffocated," he said softly. "The world is better off without you in it, we both know that. You're useless, and stupid, and insignificant. Everyone was happier while you were locked up, and we'll be even better when you're six feet under." He thumped the bottle against Finn's chest, letting him take it. "Is that easier to handle, telling you what you want to hear?"
That. . . That was not what he expected at all and it stung. Finn hadn't meant what Garret was telling him. That wasn't what he was talking about. It was Garret's emotions themselves. They were eating at him and he responded by acting on them. Garret was ripping into himself, Finn ripped into himself. Fuck it. "Fine," he said, taking the bottle and walking away to the kitchen and setting it down before walking back to the front door and putting his shoes and jacket on. He figured Garret would either walk away or get curious. He was hoping the stupid head would ignore him.
Fine. Well that was the word of the day, wasn't it? Fine. Everything was fine, everyone was fine, it was all just fine. A prefect blanket word and the coldest and most obvious lie ever invented. Because when someone said fine, they always meant exactly the opposite.
For a moment, Garret debated following, but he was just so damn tired. Finn had sapped all his energy and emotion and now he felt like a husk of a guy just standing there and trying not to pass out from physical and mental exhaustion. But Finn had taken his booze, and garret didn't feel drunk anymore so he wanted it back. And maybe a new bottle too, for good measure. He started to head toward the kitchen when Finn came back out, his expression determined. The pathfinder watched a moment as Finn put on his shoes, and then his coat. So, he was leaving. Well... no. Rorie was gone, and Mal wasn't there and Pete was gone and Lloyd was gone and Cherry was gone and everybody kept leaving and if another person vanished from Garret for even one night he was going to scream.
Walking over to Finn in silence, Garret took hold of the younger man's hand and tugged him close, and pressed a kiss to his mouth (holding it for probably a few more seconds than necessary). And then wordlessly pulled Finn along toward the stairs, lacing their fingers together.
Finn was going to go back to campus and sleep, alone, in his bed. Thing would probably come by at some point, but he also planned on just curling up and crying again. God he hated crying. It was like the worst way to relieve stress. What he didn't count on though, was Garret walking over and just kissing him. The man had just pretty much told him to go die because he thought it was what Finn wanted to hear and now he was kissing him. Finn wasn't lying when he said that Garret was suffocating him. Just the emotions alone, even without the words were doing him in.
So when he was kissed, he didn't realize what was happening till he felt sad, lonely, and. . . scared. It was surprising, but he didn't pull away. Instead he stood there confused and soaking in the sudden, more calm mood that Garret was giving off. It didn't take a genius to figure out that when Garret tugged, Finn followed behind like a puppy. He was soothed and calmed. It also helped that Finn's own emotions were similar. He didn't want to be alone right then either. Everything aside, he didn't want to spend a night alone. So, he followed without hesitation.
There hadn't been anything sexual about the kiss. Really, it was the only thing Garret could think of that would explain what he wanted, what he needed, and what had to happen tonight. It was deep affection in its simplest form, saying the most while doing the least.
Bringing Finn up to the bedroom, Garret turned to the younger man, letting go of his hand long enough to push his jacket off his shoulders, letting it stay on the floor wherever it fell. Laying himself down, Garret drew Finn onto the bed with him, drawing him as close as he could, tangling his own limbs up with the other man's. He was locking them together, unconsciously doing whatever he could to keep Finn from being able to disappear in the night. His arms wrapped around Finn's shoulders, Finn's head drawn against his chest, his own mouth resting against the other's forehead.
This was weird. Like a strange dream where Garret was the one trying to seduce him, only. . . He wasn't. The other man had never been this gentle with him and it was kinda scary. Finn didn't do anything about it though. Instead he just did what Garret wanted him to do. He let him lead him up the stairs and into his bedroom. Let him push his jacket off and pull him onto the bed. He'd never slept like this before, well that was a lie. With Rez. When they were both needing that little bit to cling onto and they held onto each other.
That was what this was now. So, he willingly wrapped his own limbs around Garret and settled down with him. "It'll be okay," he said softly. "We'll get through this. All of us."
Nodding, Garret was quiet for a while, just thinking and letting his mind settle. Finn was probably right. Eventually, things would settle out and it would be okay. "I know," he mumbled finally, pressing a kiss to Finn's skin before closing his eyes and sighing. "It's not a matter of if. It's a matter of when." But he didn't want to talk about that right now. He didn't even want to think about it right now. "Night, weirdo."