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No. 74751
>>74700
WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU
I need to know
your expressions are goddamn magical. COME MAKE OUT WITH ME.
oh god no bumping without content um uh HASTILY THROWN TOGETHER RIDICULOUS THING TIME, GO:
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It's been ages since the last time he hung out with his friends- his real friends, not the freaky bunch of weirdos Hanna has dragged into his life- and they all give him shit for it as soon as he arrives at the bar. "Man," Rob says, laughing, "we thought you'd fuckin' died," and Conrad really wishes his answering laugh didn't sound quite so weak.
"I've been working a lot," he says, which isn't actually a denial (as that'd be a lie, he definitely died) but also isn't actually an explanation, not really, not for how completely absent he's been for months. No one calls him on it, though, they just make mocking noises about Conrad Achenleck, wildly successful freelancer, and then Terri starts in bitching about how much her own job's been keeping her busy, and Conrad can start to relax a little.
Being around actual people, normal people, is weird; he keeps wanting to touch his neck, his scars, self-consciously, but he knows better than to draw attention to them. Nobody's noticed yet, or if they have, they haven't said anything. Not about those, or his teeth (tooth, fine, only the one's likely to be noticed) or how freakishly pale he is. He hopes they don't ask. Now, he's realizing, he is one of the freaky weirdos, whether he likes it or not, and at least when he's around Hanna he doesn't have to lie to anyone but himself.
A kick to his ankle jerks him back to the conversation. "Don't be an asshole," Leigh hisses, the only one who's noticed him spacing out. She's right, he's being a jerk, and the whole point of this is for him to at least be able to pretend he's normal for a little bit. Jesus, he's self-destructive sometimes. He flashes her a smile- close-lipped, but sincere enough that she smiles back- and turns away to listen to Greg's Humorous Bartending Story of the moment.
He loosens up eventually, though it takes him most of half an hour just to stop feeling awkward every time he sips at his drink. (He's worried someone will notice how slowly he's drinking it- it doesn't taste so great to him anymore, and the alcohol does nothing for him- but no one does. Or maybe they just don't want to say anything. Or maybe he should work on this paranoia thing one of these days.) Another half hour after that he's laughing, not even bothering to cover his mouth (stupid fang), feeling more relaxed and more bold with every minute and every conversation change that doesn't end in questions about him.
Which is, of course, when the hand lands on his shoulder, heavy as a slap though ending in a grip that marks it as friendly, or mockingly so, and not actually confrontational. The whiskey-smoke-cinnamon smell has already got him cringing even before he hears Worth's voice, loud and cheerful and way too close to his ear. "Connie! This don't seem like your sort of place."
Conrad's friends are gaping, every single one of them staring at the way Worth's arm is draped casually- possessively- around his shoulders. Conrad is not exactly a personal space invasion kind of guy. "Get off," he mutters belatedly, aiming an elbow at Worth's ribs, but it's half-hearted and Worth just chuckles and it makes his friends boggle even more. It probably looked friendly, he realizes, it probably seemed like he was just being… god, shy or something.
"Gonna introduce me?" Worth says, and Conrad gives in to the urge to cringe and hide his face behind his hand. "No," he says, muffled by his palm, but Worth's already ignoring him. "Luce Worth," is thankfully all he says, with no inevitably embarrassing clarifications or explanations.
Jamie's sitting closest to where Worth's now insinuated himself at the table, and he's the first to unfreeze and offer his hand to shake. "Hey," he says, and introduces himself, and of course that sets everyone else off, and Conrad would kind of like to die again, please, right now, before Worth does something irredeemably awful.
But for the moment all Worth does is pull up a chair, and chat with Conrad's friends, and continue to sit much, much too close to him. It's distracting, and unnerving, especially because as far as Conrad can tell Worth isn't actually doing anything else objectionable at the moment. He's even dressed pretty reasonably, in the short coat with the buckles that Conrad secretly sort of likes, and a black shirt that isn't noticeably ripped or stained, and jeans that are noticeably ripped and stained but in ways that could be mistaken as fashionable by someone who doesn't actually know Worth.
He even offers to buy a round, though he steals Conrad's credit card from his back pocket to pay for it. (He's not subtle about the stealing; he uses it as an opportunity for a quick grope, which weirdly almost makes Conrad feel better. At least then he knows it's still Worth.) As soon as Worth and Rob have stepped away to fetch the drinks, Conrad's friends are all back to gaping at him like he just stood up and danced on a table.
"What the fuck," Greg says at last, and everyone else makes loud noises of agreement, the girls leaning in closer in their eagerness to find out what, precisely, the fuck.
And actually, seriously, he hasn't got even the start of an answer to that, because it's not like he knows what the fuck he's doing, either. "Uh," is all he manages, sort of helplessly, while everyone keeps staring.
"Count on you to find the one other limey in the entire fucking city," Jamie says after a moment of (awkward) silence, and it's not all that funny but it's enough to make the others laugh and relax a little, at least. Conrad's pretty sure nothing sort of really, really high-quality narcotics could possibly relax him right now, and he's also pretty sure he never even would've thought that sort of thing a few months ago, so it's not exactly comforting or helpful.
Terri flicks a straw wrapper at him, since she's too far away to kick him. "He smokes," she says, unnecessarily gleeful since she's been the target of his nagging more than once. "He clearly doesn't shave. Or eat! He's all... like, sketchy and dubious. That is amazing, did you actively go out looking for your opposite number or what? Does he complete you? Also," she adds a bit more dreamily, glancing towards where Worth's leaning against the bar, "his legs are about a billion miles long."
That part's true, at least, Worth has definitely got ridiculous legs. "It's not really like that," he tries, but no one's really listening, and the only one who hears him is Leigh, who laughs at him. "It's not," he says, though he doesn't really know why he's bothering since it's not like anyone's going to buy it at this point. Not even himself, really, not anymore.
Leigh's looking at him like he's crazy. "You lean into him when he's next to you," she says, not unkindly but still sort of like she thinks he's an idiot. "I bet you know exactly where he is right now" and Conrad's eyes flick up, catching Worth's from across the bar, and Worth grins at him- immensely, obviously pleased with himself, amused by how antsy he's making Conrad just by standing there. What an asshole.
The leaning, he knows, is because Worth kicks out heat like a human sun, and Conrad's always too cold; knowing where he is from across a room doesn't mean much, either, because really it's just that he's familiar enough with the sound of Worth's heart, the distinct blood-heavy smell of him, to be able to pinpoint him even in the middle of a crowded room. It's like a super power, only not so much with the super. It's not romance, it's not any sort of sweet or significant, but he can see how it might look like it from the outside.
And somehow, that's what makes him laugh, and realize what a joke this all is, and suddenly get, really understand for the first time, what exactly Worth finds so entertaining in situations like these. It's like a game, and it's actually the same game he was playing himself before Worth showed up, the one called 'pretend to be normal.' Only it'll be more fun with two.
Worth bumps his shoulder as he sits, handing over Conrad's drink (a Bloody Mary, ha fucking ha) and taking a swig of the beer he's holding for himself. "Somethin' funny, peaches?"
"No," Conrad says, and leans closer to him deliberately, unable to hold back a triumphant grin when Worth's eyes widen almost imperceptibly. It only takes a second, though, for him to catch on and grin back, and then he's draping his arm around Conrad's shoulders again and turning to talk to Greg about some live music bar they both apparently used to love. Conrad listens for a moment, marveling at how very weird his life is, and then turns back to Leigh.
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It's almost comfortable, after a while, having Worth's arm heavy and warm against him; he gets used to it, anyway, enough to be able to ignore it and talk with his friends like this is ordinary. He's missed them, he realizes, not just the normality they represent and the life he's left behind in the world of sunshine and nice restaurants, but them, Greg's sarcasm and Rob's stealth wry wit and Terri's too-loud exuberance and Leigh's genius and Jamie's laid-back chill with the world that he has never been able to understand or emulate. But he's trying, tonight. He's pretending. It's not going so terribly, actually.
Conrad's concept of time has been really fucked by the hours he keeps these days, so he doesn't even realize how late it is until Terri starts to yawn. "Ugh, shit, I have to work tomorrow, you assholes, why'd we stay out so late?"
"It's not late, you're just old," Greg says, and only snickers when she kicks him, and stands. "Come on, Grandma, I'll get you back to the home. It was good to meet you, Luce." Conrad's had to bite back a grin every single time Worth's name's been used so casually tonight; he'd tried to use it himself, at first, but kept slipping and gave up. It's still been pretty hilarious to hear, though.
Worth gives Greg a nod, one that actually seems pretty genuinely friendly. It makes some weird sort of sense for them to get along, since Greg can be kind of a dick, too, but that doesn't make it any less bizarre. He's pretty glad this will never happen again; it's trippy in a Twilight Zone kind of way, two worlds colliding in ways they never, ever should.
He heads outside along with everyone else, Worth moving away from him at last to lean against the wall and smoke a cigarette. For a second he's distracted by Worth's seriously ridiculously long legs, but then Terri tugs him down by his tie to hug him. "A billion miles long," she says with a grin, obviously having seen where he'd been looking. "He's a pretty good one, I guess. I kinda like it. He's like the scruffy Han to your prissy Leia."
"Hey," he says, "Leia was a badass," and she laughs and hugs him again before following Greg to his car.
Jamie just gives him a wave before heading off, but Rob gives him a friendly punch to his shoulder first. "Seriously, you should've just told us you were getting laid. It's not like we would've hassled you for it." He gives Worth an only moderately dubious glance, way more lenient than he actually deserves, then hits Conrad again. "Don't let it be months before you hang out with us again."
Conrad can't promise anything, so he doesn't try, just says, "It's been fun," which is true.
That leaves Leigh, who's staring up at him with the most knowing look he's been faced with in a long time. She scrutinizes his face for some mysterious reason, then hugs him. "I don't know what the hell you guys are actually like together, but whatever it is, I think... it's actually working for you. But I don't want to know about it because I also think it's probably really unhealthy. You guys do a good job of faking happy, though." She gives him a smile, and a kiss on his cheek. "Let yourself try it out more often, maybe."
He lets out a huge sigh, one that feels like it's been building all night. "It is so fucking complicated, I couldn't even begin to explain anyway." He manages a grin once he's said it, though. "It was really good to see you guys."
"Likewise, sweetheart. Take care, okay?" She gives his neck a pointed look, then his teeth, then Worth. And then she smiles, and walks away. Yikes, he had forgotten how creepy geniuses could be.
It's still really early, by his standards; not even 2 yet. He stretches a little, sighs, tips his head back to look up at the stars. It's not so bad, only living at night. It has its moments. He turns after a moment and walks over to stand in front of Worth, who smirks at him. Back to normal again, and it's strange to know now that he actually prefers that.
Worth reels him in by fingers hooked in his belt loops, kissing him quick and dirty before backing him up against the bricks and ducking his head to bite at Conrad's neck, making him shudder and swear. "You're such an asshole." But his hands are settling on Worth's hips, chin tilting to give him better access.
"You like me anyway," Worth says against his skin, and it's mocking but it's still true, too, and he supposes they both know it well enough that there's no point trying to argue about it. Not that that'll stop him, of course.
He twists to kiss Worth again, then pushes him away. "Maybe," he says, "sometimes. When you've had a wash recently, and by recently I mean today, not this week. When you keep your mouth shut for more than two minutes at a stretch. When-"
"-the sun doth shine, and the moon doth glow, and the grass doth grow," Worth interrupts, and rolls his eyes. "I got it, yeah. C'mon, let's go to yours, I wanna watch some telly after." He heads down the road without bothering to wait for an answer.
Conrad falls into step beside him, doing his best to squint sideways at him in disbelief without also tripping over his feet. "Did you just quote Tenacious D at me?"
Worth snickers. "Nah." They walk in silence a moment, then Worth bumps their shoulders together, a bit too rough to be what anyone else would call friendly but downright companionable by his standards. Conrad bumps back.
"I'm sorry," Conrad says after another minute, and Worth shoots him a look of disbelief before he continues, "I've poisoned your wine."
The face Worth makes then is maybe the funniest fucking thing Conrad's ever seen, and he can't help but think that it's totally worth it to give in to a moment of immaturity if it'll make Worth crack up laughing like that, completely unironic, just genuinely surprised. He gives up on maturity a little more and lets himself laugh, too, bumping his shoulder against Worth's arm again and leaving it there as they walk down the road snickering together.
Happy, he thinks. Hm.
Yeah, maybe he can handle faking that once in a while.
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this is for: caco n beat n puks n kaiji n ALL MY OLDFAGS, oldfags give a holla, oldfags I miss you terribly :<
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