Lyle Majors (smartassets) wrote in tiberiusswann, @ 2009-05-10 19:31:00 |
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Entry tags: | james, lyle |
Sunday- 11/4/07
Who: Lyle and James
What: Lunchtime Brawl
Where: Cafeteria
Why: It's ON!
Rating: R for Language
Lyle was on edge. Peyton had disappeared from his room Friday night, and he hadn't slept since she'd called him at 3:00 Saturday morning. He would never tell her how worried he was about her, but he was worried. And despite her having asked him not to say anything, apparently half the school knew she was gone. And evidently he had kidnapped and killed/raped/stashed her away somewhere. God damnit. He'd just wanted Lelia not to worry, because Lelia was very sweet and she cared about Pey, too. And that had blown up in his face. So much for being reliable, then.
He didn't know why he'd come to the cafeteria. Food had been getting on his nerves lately. He could barely taste anything now, and he missed flavors. Sometimes, if it was very spicy, he'd get a little taste, but most everything else was just bland. So he'd gotten a grilled cheese sandwich and a little salad, and he'd doused the hell out of both of them with pepper. But it just tasted like tingly blankness. So now he was just stabbing at it moodily with a fork, ignoring everyone around him . He wasn't in the mood to be polite to people.
---
It wasn't very typical of James McCafferty to be caught dead in the cafeteria, especially on the weekend, but he had gotten hungry and Fisher was busy and he didn't feel like going out to eat, so James had decided to just stop by, grab a bite, and head back to the room to catch up on some homework before Monday came around. He'd heard it wasn't too terrible now that a new chef was running things, so he figured he'd at least give it a shot. It'd be quicker than walking all the way into town.
The minute that he entered the place, there was someone that caught his eye. No, not like that, but there was just something strikingly familiar about the boy and he had watched him, considered it, the entire time that he was in line. He finally figured it out just as he was about to leave. The boy looked like Fisher. It had to be Lyle. And while he wasn't entirely sure of that, he decided it would be a good idea to find out. It was about time they were introduced especially considering that they had a thing or two to talk about.
With his food in a to-go container in his hand, James crossed the cafeteria to the table where the boy sat alone. "Lyle Majors?" He asked, though he was sure that he was correct. The similarities were too striking for him to be wrong. He'd memorized everything about Fisher's face and Lyle looked like him only... different, of course, the way that siblings usually did.
---
When Lyle heard his name, he turned his head up to see who was talking to him. He was annoyed right off the bat, assuming it was a teacher asking for him. Most students wouldn't have said both names. And he wasn't going to tell anyone else anything about Peyton, and that was that. Who he saw, though, was not a teacher looking for information. "James," he said simply, both suprised and unimpressed. Oh yes, he knew James. He'd made a point of figuring out what his brother's boyfriend looked like so it wouldn't come as a suprise to him later. James certainly looked like Fisher's type. Not that Lyle knew that his brother had a type of preferred men, but judging from previous pals that he'd brought home on school vacations (who were probably lovers, looking at it now), James looked the type. He was clean cut, obviously wealthy, and walked with such confidence you wanted to slap him.
"What do you want?" he asked impatiently. He wasn't in the mood for introductions, and frankly he wasn't ready to accept Fisher as gay yet. It had kind of shaken his world, and he was still recovering from the aftershocks. On top of that he was still nervous about Peyton, which was putting him on edge.
---
James was a little surprised that Lyle knew who he was but now that he thought about it, he would have done the same. If his sister were here, whoever she was involved with, he would know pretty much everything about them before he even said so much as hello. This obviously was not going to be a friendly introduction, however. But no bother. He hadn't really intended it as such.
"what do I want.." James repeated the question like he was considering it, setting his take out container down on the table near Lyle. "Hmm. Well that's a tough question to answer, so let's start with what I don't want, shall we?" He quirked a brow ever so slightly as he moved a hand to rest a palm on top of the table. "I don't want to come back to my room and find Fisher crying because of some smart ass remark you've made to him again. That's what I don't want. So why don't we work on that and you see if you can muster up an apology for him."
---
So, okay then. James was already on the offensive. Clearly this had never been planned as a friendly introduction. Fine. Lyle glanced at the hand placed on the table, then back to James' face. He wasn't scared of this asshole. He wouldn't have been scared of him even if Lyle hadn't been a vampire. He looked him directly in the eye. "I've got a better idea," he said, his voice even. "Why don't you butt out of my business, and get the fuck out of my face?" He was absolutely not in the mood to deal with his goddamn brother or his boyfriend right now, and he certainly wasn't feeling apologetic. He was, however, in the mood to kick the shit out of something.
"I don't have time to deal with this, and I don't have time to deal with you. If he's got a problem, he can act like a big boy and find me himself. But I don't know you, I don't like you, and I don't owe you shit."
---
Oh. This kid thought he had balls. James smirked, even laughed a little when Lyle told him to get out of his face. "I'm not in your face... yet." James arched a brow slightly as his tone turned more serious on that last word and the smile that had been upon his lips faded into that hard look that he always got whenever he was near to flipping his shit.
"I don't give a rat's ass what you do or don't have time for. I suggest you fucking make time." James replied. "Fisher loves you. You're his family, his blood, and you should be fucking ashamed of yourself for treating him the way you have been. And no, you don't owe me shit, but you do owe him a little bit of fucking respect." He shook his head softly. "You have no idea what the fuck he's even been through, do you? And you don't even give a shit, do you?"
---
If James thought he was intimidating, he was wrong. It was almost funny how confident James was, so sure that his severe tone and dark eyes were going to cut through to Lyle. He could tell James was getting pretty pissed, and it was almost making him happier. He needed somewhere to channel all his energy. "I don't owe him anything," he said, standing up to be face to face with James. "He hasn't done shit for me. Ever. Just because he's family, it doesn't give him a forgive-all pass to act like an asshole." Leaning forward, Lyle broke the personal space bubble, lowering his voice. "You're right, I don't give a shit what he's been through. He did all of it to himself. No one forced him to shoot up junk, no one made him fuck half the drug dealers in New York City." He did know a little about what Fisher had been doing, and that had been enough. Hearing about his brother like that had both broken his heart and shattered his image of him.
"He never gave a fuck about me, either. I know you're his... whatever the fuck you are, and I know you're biased to think that he's been such a victim and all that shit. But I haven't gone anywhere. He always knew where to find me, how to reach me. If he wanted me in his life, he could've done something about it any time he wanted. But he's a selfish prick. He's always been selfish and careless about what happened to me and I don't owe him shit for that." Anger was boiling inside Lyle, and not all of it caused by James. He was hurt, and resentful, and he didn't forgive his brother. And that bothered him more than he'd ever admit to.
"So get the fuck away from me," he said raising his voice. "You don't know jack shit about him, you don't know about us, and you sure as shit don't know anything about me! So don't you fucking dare try to tell me what I owe him!"
---
Maybe James didn't know about their past. He sure as hell knew about the present though. And even though he himself could, if he had really given it some thought, relate to what Lyle was going through, he could only see Fisher's side of it, only see how hurt the man that he loved was by the actions of his brother. And it infuriated him which prevented him from being able to see any logic or any point of view aside from that one. And the fact that the boy was getting in his face was only pissing him off that much more.
"Don't you dare say that about him again. Do you fucking understand me, little boy?" The more Lyle spoke, the less James liked him, and the more he felt like pounding him into the fucking ground.
He took a step forward, invading the other man's space even more. "Make me. I fucking dare you. Just give me a reason, Lyle. Just one. That's all I need." The heat in the cafeteria was rising and people were starting to notice what was going on. Fortunately, or unfortunately perhaps, there weren't any members of the staff about at the moment to notice that something was amiss.
---
It might have been cute how protective James was over Fisher, if he were defending him against anyone else. But Lyle was getting mad, and he had no problem with taking James up on any offers he dished out. And he did not appreciate being called 'little boy'. He would give James a reason, gladly. Stepping forward, Lyle placed both hands on James' chest and shoved him, hard, no holding back.
"There's your reason, cocksucker!" he shouted, taking a fighting stance. Lyle had never backed down from a fight, and he very rarely lost one. "Come on, then. Let's see if this little bitch bites as hard as he barks."
---
Oh, he had made a big fucking mistake now. No one laid their hands on James McCafferty like that and just got away with it. No one. And while he might have thought better about picking a fight with Fisher's little brother had he been thinking more clearly, he wasn't thinking clearly now. His temper had long since got the best of him as it so often did.
James took a few steps backwards when Lyle shoved him, but he didn't loose his balance at all. He smirked, one could almost call it a smile. "Gladly." He replied simply, and then he charged at the other man, keeping his body low so as to hit Lyle square in his center of gravity in an attempt to knock him off balance.
---
In contrast, Lyle was glad to be taking shots at his brother's boyfriend. Maybe this would send a message back to Fisher, tell him to keep his puppy tied up under the porch. The shove had been hard, but not hard enough to knock James over. Just enough to get him back a few steps. James came at him fast, and for a few brief seconds, Lyle wasn't ready. He went down, alright, James a suprising powerhouse of weight. But Lyle managed to get a handful of the man's hair, yanking his head back and delivering a mostly successful right hook to his jaw before they both landed on the ground, Lyle's back slamming hard into the tiled floor. If he'd had breath, it would've been knocked out of him.
Now they were both down, on somewhat even footing, and all hell broke loose. Lyle still had James' hair in his fingers, and he used this momentary advantage to get in a few hits, all the while trying to push James off him.
---
James' first thought when Lyle went for his hair was that the guy was going to fight like a little bitch, in which case, he would feel slightly guilty for beating him into a bloody pulp upon the ground. But then he delivered that right hook, and that changed his opinion all together. Good. He wouldn't want to feel bad about this later on. If they were going to fight, it should at least be somewhat even. That'd give James a chance to get rid of some of the pent up aggression he'd been struggling with for weeks now.
They were both down. Lyle still had a hold on his hair and was doing a pretty good job of giving James' face hell. That was, of course, until James yanked his head free and then smashed the boy's face with his forehead. It hurt a little, but not much, and he then began to deliver a series of blows of his own against the boy's ribs.
People were starting to gather, girls screaming about it and some of the guys trying to goad them on. Somewhere in the back of his mind, James knew it wouldn't be long before the shit got broken up, so he was trying his best to fuck the guy up before that happened.
---
It was satisfying, slamming his fist into James' face. He wanted to fuck up that pretty face James had, turn it into something resembling ground hamburger. It was really hard to look so goddamn smug when your face was swollen to twice its size. He hadn't expected James to rear back like that, and he certainly didn't expect him to smash his forehead into his face. Lyle jerked his head back, cracking it against the floor. Blood flowed from his nose down his face, running into his mouth. Good. The taste of blood gave him strength, made him more primal, made him angrier. James pounded at his ribs, the man's fists a flurry of blows. Luckily Lyle didn't need to breathe, so he could focus more on his next move. With precision and controlled strength, Lyle drove the heel of his palm upward into James' nose, snapping it easily.
Using the momentary suprise to his advantage, Lyle's hips jerked upward, tossing James off to the side. He scrambled up onto his knees, catching a fleeting glimpse of the crowd around them. He was in full attack mode, and it would take at least three people to get him away from James now.
---
When the heel of the other boy's palm slammed into his nose, it definitely took him by surprise. He was easily tossed off to the side, his hand going to his nose as he felt blood flooding his senses, the sting almost unbearable as his eyes watered. But all that did was piss him off even more. The fact that he was in pain did nothing but drive him, a low growl parting his lips as the temperature of the air around him jumped a good ten degrees.
The thing about James was that when he got into full on fight mode, he had very little abandon. And it was this that drove him to fling himself, full force, shoulder down, into the other man's body, catching him around the waist and driving him backwards, slamming him into a nearby wall. "Goddamn son of a bitch, I'm going to fucking kill you!" He yelled, reaching a hand up to bounce Lyle's head off of the wall behind him.
---
This was by far one of the most brutal fights Lyle had ever been a part of. After he hurled James off, and had gotten himself standing again, shifting his weight low so as not to be knocked over again. James fought like a tiger, wild and reckless. Lyle knew better, but only a little. Emotion could still get the best of him, and right now he was determined to take that asshole down. He knew James would charge him again, and sure enough, he had. But Lyle was more ready this time, letting himself be carried until they both slammed into the wall. As James drove Lyle into the concrete, Lyle wrapped an arm around the guy's head, shifting his weight to the side and pulling him head on into the wall. He lost his grip as quickly as he'd gotten it, but for certain James' head would be pounding soon enough. As would his own head, it seemed, as James took hold of him and smashed it into the wall. Stars of brightness popped out behind Lyle's eyes. He wasn't going down, absolutely refused to.
"Try it, you little cunt!" he shouted back, driving an uppercut into James' stomach. His right fist took another blow to James' midsection, his left a sloppy smack to the head. James was doing a fair amount of damage himself. Lyle was sure he had a concussion, and maybe a few ribs were bruised.
---
James' head was definitely going to be throbbing, but right now, he was all high on adrenaline and he couldn't even think to feel the aftermath. This was what made him dangerous. This was how he had ended up nearly killing a few people, and actually killing one, but that had been an all together different situation and he wasn't going to go that far this time. At least he didn't think he would.
Alright. It was time to end this shit. He grabbed Lyle's arm as he went in for another punch, simultaneously putting his own arm behind the other man's head and using that to shove him forward as he pulled his arm back and moved swiftly around behind him, a knee shoved into the small of the other man's back as he felt a pop, Lyle's arm twisting up quite unnaturally behind his back.
---
Fuck.
Lyle screamed as he heard, as he felt the bone snap. It was an impressive feat, breaking a vampire's bone. But this fight hadn't been about skill, and it hadn't been about strength. It had been about who was more pissed, who felt they deserved more justice. Apparently, James did. Lyle dropped to his knees, his left arm outstretched to catch himself as he fell. He hoped to God James let him go, didn't hold his snapped limb and twist it more, didn't prolong the suffering. He was proud, but not too proud to admit to defeat.
"Fuck," he hissed, forcing himself to breathe through gritted teeth. Anything to lessen the pain. Vaguely he was aware of people grabbing James behind him, of shouted voices and screams of anger. All he could think about was how much it fucking hurt, how fast the adrenaline was leaving his system. And how ironic it was that, whenever it came to Fisher, Lyle always got hurt one way or another.
---
It wasn't until James felt the snap in the boy's arm and the guy let out a scream before falling to the ground that he fully recognized what he had done. Fuck was right. Fisher was going to be... livid.
James took a few steps back, letting Lyle go. There were staff members there now, grabbing him and pulling him away even though he was willingly stepping off.
And that annoyed him, enough that he pulled his arms free from their grasp and practically growled at them. "Get the fuck off of me. I'm going." Where he was going, he wasn't sure. Probably to the headmaster's office, or the infirmary perhaps. Where ever it was, it had to be better than back to his room where Fisher would be waiting.