Anders (crazycatman) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2015-08-18 11:08:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | anders, tinkerbell |
Who: Tink and Anders
What: Both of them are affected by the Shattered plot, have a bit of a spat.
When: Say Monday? Sure.
Where: Tink's house.
Warnings/Ratings: None that I can think of. Some exploding furniture.
Status: Complete
Tink was anxious. For some reason, she felt grumpy. Thinking about Anders coming over for their date tonight set her on edge. She didn’t have a headache, she wasn’t sleep deprived or hungry. It was just… a bad day. She’d been having a lot of them since Anders left. And though she understood why he had to go, she was still reeling from the change. It’d been a few weeks now. Haymitch was right; she shouldn’t lose hope. It was hard.
The house was quiet and still. Almost too quiet. Tink had been at work, and had seriously argued with one of her mechanics over the tiniest shit, and now she was home. Her neck was a little redder than normal. She went to the laundry room to do laundry, and even throwing around the clothes wasn’t making her feel better. What. the. hell?
Anders was definitely feeling a little on edge. It wasn’t anything he could really put his finger on - he had been fine at work, but as he was headed over to Tink’s house, he was definitely getting a little irritated. He’d been trying to see her more lately, feeling more confident with Justice. He avoided spending the night most of the time because he didn’t want to wake up from a Dream having lost control and injuring her, but conscious, well, seeing her was usually fine.
But he didn’t really want to pass up on date night with Tink. Maybe not an actual date, probably more of the playing mindless video games or senseless TV shows on the couch, curled up, but he normally liked those dates even more than he did the going out kind. But tonight, well, it wasn’t really on the top of his list. “Tink,” he said, coming into the house and letting Sir Pounce-A-Lot down on the ground so he could go off and play with Lady Widget.
The days when Anders came home to cuddle up and watch tv were fantastic. Video games, dinner, cuddling with the kitties... it was as if they were back to normal. But then he'd have to say goodbye again at the end of the night, and things hurt again. She wouldn't trade those hours for anything in the world--but sometimes they made it worse when he wasn't around.
She'd just finished stuffing a wet load into the dryer when she heard him come into the house. Under normal circumstances her heart would have raced, and she would have bounded out of the laundry room to greet him with a hug and a kiss. She might have even fluttered a bit--she hadn't been flying, but when Anders came home she was happy enough for that... today, though? She was irritated by the sound of his voice.
"What?" She called out from the laundry room. Her voice may have sounded a little more irritated than she meant. She started shoving towels into the washing machine.
Ah Tink. The girl of his dreams, with the voice that kind of made him feel like he was listening to nails on a chalkboard. "I'm home?" he responded, perhaps a little snidely. "What, is that the best welcome you can muster up? I didn't have to come home tonight, you know." Truth be told, he'd almost rather be at the hotel working on his revolution.
Tink finished pushing the towels down into the washing machine, then poured in the soap and turned on the machine. “You’re not home.” She grumbled, mostly to herself, but not so quiet that he couldn’t hear if he came closer. “Home is that stupid hotel.”
Not that she wanted it to be. She wanted him to come home. For real. And it was irritating that he wasn’t home. She didn’t blame him--she couldn’t--but it was aggravating. “Did you bring Sir Pounce?” She asked, coming out of the laundry room and folding her arms across her chest.
“Well, at least I can get some work done at that ‘stupid hotel,’” the last couple words in a high pitched, mocking kind of voice. He had been coming closer to give her a kiss, more because he always gave her a kiss when he first came home than because he actually wanted to, but if she was going to be whining about him staying at the hotel than she could forget it. “Instead of here, where all you want to do is sit around playing idiotic video games and watching mindless television.”
“Work? Oh, right. Your revolution.” Tink snapped at him. Her hands went to her hips as the red started to seep onto her cheeks, taking over her face. She had no idea why she was so angry all of a sudden, no idea why everything about him was starting to irritate her so much. “You don’t want to be here spending time with me? Fine. Go on. Go hide away in that hotel room like A Beautiful Mind and working on your manifesto of madness no one’s going to buy into.”
While Anders might have normally found the Tink’s face turning red almost cute, he kind of thought she looked like an angry tomato now. “I never said I didn’t want to be here with you, though you don’t make that easy, do you? Why do you always have to twist my words?” Always? Was it always? It sure felt like it right now. When she brought up his manifesto though, his eyes flashed blue and it seemed as though his skin cracked, a blue fire burning just beneath the surface. When he spoke, it was with two voices. “My manifesto is not of madness,” he said. “People need a revolution. I don’t understand how anyone could be so selfish that they couldn’t see that themselves!”
The question about always twisting his words (which Tink would have argued she didn’t) was forgotten at the physical transformation in front of her. If it was any other day, Tink might have backed down. She might have seen the blue fire under his skin and cowered away in fear. But in this moment? It only made her angry. She stood up a little straighter, narrowing her eyes. Her wings flickered out of their sheath and she folded her arms across her chest. “Of course. Forgive me. I forgot you’re an expert now.”
Anders was not used to people poking him in the chest. People generally either avoided him or drew their swords when he got all glowy. It did not serve to improve his mood. “It doesn’t take an expert to recognize when someone is being a selfish, apolitical twit," Anders declared. "Maybe if you cared half as much about those less fortunate than you as you do about Adam Savage, I'd be home by now."
“That is so typical of you,” Tink snapped. She wasn’t going to back down. Everything about him tonight was irritating her from his bleeding heart to his stupid ponytail. Things she loved more than anything on any other day made her want to snap and bite today. “Assuming that I don’t care. That I don’t listen. That I’m ignorant about everything around me. Just because I take time off at the end of a long, fucking day doesn’t mean I don’t care about other people. You’re just quick to judge, like you always are.”
“If you cared you’d be right there beside me making this happen!” Anders all but roared. “If you truly cared, you would be less concerned about being able to take time off from your ‘long, fucking day,’ by sitting in your huge house and more concerned about the people who don’t have that luxury because they don’t have a home,” and he accentuated that particular proclaimed by exploding the kitchen table with a fireball, slivers of wood shooting out in all directions, though the fire didn’t seem as though it would spread. He lowered his voice to an almost dangerous sounding calm . “Do not pretend to care when you are just as selfish as those I’m fighting against.”
Tink was going to respond angrily, her eyes narrowed and her hands on her hips, but then there was an explosion, and her table burst into flame. She jumped into the air and turned to stare, then, without noticing she was actually fluttering a foot or so above the ground, she turned back to Anders.
“How dare you! How dare you accuse me of being selfish! You have no idea the things I do to help my neighbor. To help the helpless and the hopeless of Orange County. How many discounts or free services have I given to those less fortunate than I? How many cars have I helped obtain at a discounted or free rate for battered womens and homeless shelters?” She scolded him, unafraid of fluttering closer to the blue, glowing man. The Justice part of him was really pissing her off. “Before you destroy any more of my furniture, maybe you should get out of my house.”
"Congratulations," Anders sneered. "You pass the bar for 'basic human being.' Better pass around the scotch and pat your own back a little harder."
There was a moment, just a moment, where Anders felt a pang of regret. Not because of the stuff Tink apparently did, but because he didn't want things between them to end. But the regret only lasted for a moment before it was replaced with righteous anger.
"Fine," he bellowed, and because he was still pretty angry he accentuated that by casting Stone Fist on one of the kitchen chairs. He always imagined it as a giant stone fist ramming into things, though it actually just looked like the chair being run into by something invisible and also exploding into splinters. "I wouldn't want to intrude on your space. I'll be back to collect my things later and you won't see me here again."
His things for now meant Sir Pounce-A-Lot. He could go looking for wherever that damn cat went, but really he just wanted to leave. Besides, Sir Pounce had been pissing him lately so maybe the two of them could take a break for a couple of days.
“Fine.” Tink finally landed, then folded her arms across her chest. She’d flown for the first time in weeks, and she barely noticed. He had her so distracted with her rage and her … irritation. Why was it that everything he was doing was so… irritating? She still loved him--she would always love him--but she really wanted to curse him out right now. Why? What happened?
“Good riddance.” She turned her back on him and wandered off down the hallway toward the bedroom. It wasn’t until she was safely inside her bedroom that she felt like she was about to burst into tears.