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homosexuals
2024-03-05 04:20 pm (UTC)(link)
( continued from here )[this would be a hell of a lot easier if he could read minds, or if embry would stop being so goddamn nihilistic about himself and what his own presence means in the context of this - thing they've yet to define. safe to say it's long since passed a simple one-off or even just meaningless sex to stave off the stress of the job. no it isn't love, and it's sure as shit not a relationship in any sense of the word...but it's some purgatory between having caught real feelings and actually giving a shit what happens to embry when he's not around. thinking about him behind closed doors, and when he's sharing a bed with the guy past just fucking. it's funny he's maybe met the one person more emotionally constipated than hawk's been told he is by marcus - wouldn't he have a field day writing about this one.
so maybe the way he sets down his glass is a little louder than it needs to be. maybe his motion to grab a second one is faster, more agitated in the way he does it. it might be petty or telling on himself, but he thinks he has every right to be a little pissed off at the way embry's picking and choosing when to let ash be the light of his goddamned life. maybe the part he's most bitter about is that he has a sneaking, sinking suspicion that's something that will never go away, and it's not like he wants to replace it, but it'd be nice to know that the first person he's opened himself up to in any capacity since tim laughlin actually gave a shit about what that means. at least, before he screws his head back on straight and realizes how stupid it is anyway. embry could have his pick of anyone, the way hawk sees it. ash, probably greer, the woman at the conference - majority of the attendees too, while they're at it.
fuck, he feels a headache coming on. this is why he hates entanglements, why he should have just fucked him once and maybe let lyonesse slide and never let himself get in this deep.
(he'd started reading the book, knowing it wasn't left behind on accident. the highlighted pieces don't seem like coincidence, and it might have been foreplay tonight if - )
hawk turns smoothly, even though there's something sharp in his eyes as he slides the second tumbler of scotch across the surface of the bar with the indication that embry can come get it himself.]
I'm the one that warned you, if I recall.
[not a told you so - not by a long shot, because he doesn't like the thought of embry getting cornered or whatever the fuck happened that secret service apparently didn't have the sense to keep her at arm's length. unless embry let it happen on purpose, which is a very real possibility. even so, it doesn't really rankle hawk the same way thinking about him spending his entire goddamn privileged life pining after a man that may very well want him back if those lingering looks in the hallway are anything to go by.
but then his excuse sinks in, and - huh, he hadn't expected it to sting that bad. hawk plasters on his very best smarmy smile, the kind that doesn't reach his eyes, in which the sharpness has died out, and is reserved for homophobes, general annoyances, and the old windbags without a sense of reality who make life miserable for the rest of their constituents.]
All's well that ends well, then. Not a big deal.
Don't suppose you remember her name. Just to dot all the i's and cross our t's.
[strictly business, and whenever embry comes up to retrieve his glass, hawk will shove his own in a brusque clink against it without pretense to drain his own.]
[ it's becoming increasingly clear that he shouldn't have come. that maybe hawk had been hoping for that specific outcome. there's still time for embry to pick up his coat and walk out in a mockery of pretense that he ever had the upper hand here, and instead he claims his drink as if he isn't annoyed and a little spurned that hawk hadn't walked it over to him like he normally does. but β he deserves that, doesn't he? and a part of him sinks into the familiar comfort of his own self-loathing guilt, that he's the one that fucked this up, and didn't try very hard not to. hawk should've known it was coming, but then again, hawk doesn't really know embry. not the way that ash or morgan or any of the other people who know to leave him alone because he's not worth the time. ]
I don't remember her name. [ the lie comes easily, small and paper-white. his past entanglements are no business of hawk's, and irrelevant to boot. ] I just remember how it felt to fuck her. Good, but no need for an encore this many years later.
[ he takes a generous swallow, turning his eyes sharply to hawk as warmth spreads down through his chest. he's mad. fine. anger isn't new, though this string of desire and contentment has dulled his senses into thinking β what? that he and hawk actually have something? he should have tried harder to push hawk onto someone else at lyonesse. if there's anything embry should have learned by now, it's that he isn't made for anything real.
not that this is real. it's just... really fucking good sex, is all. good enough that ash's name has spilled from his lips, knocked out of him like a desolate curse. hawk has a way of prying him open that he should be far more alarmed about. ]
Something on your mind, Hawk? [ embry tips his glass again, his throat bobbing as he drains it in another few gulps like it's cheap beer instead of top shelf scotch. carelessly, he sets the glass down and pushes into hawk's space, defiance written into every line of his body. ] Something you want to say?
[ his mouth is like a dare, hovering close, liquor sweet, only the faintest stain of red smudging the edge of his lips. by their sides, his hand brushes hawk's fingers, gentle, before grasping his wrist in a punishing grip, holding him there like he expects hawk to disappear. ]
If you want me to go, you have to make me.
I don't remember her name. [ the lie comes easily, small and paper-white. his past entanglements are no business of hawk's, and irrelevant to boot. ] I just remember how it felt to fuck her. Good, but no need for an encore this many years later.
[ he takes a generous swallow, turning his eyes sharply to hawk as warmth spreads down through his chest. he's mad. fine. anger isn't new, though this string of desire and contentment has dulled his senses into thinking β what? that he and hawk actually have something? he should have tried harder to push hawk onto someone else at lyonesse. if there's anything embry should have learned by now, it's that he isn't made for anything real.
not that this is real. it's just... really fucking good sex, is all. good enough that ash's name has spilled from his lips, knocked out of him like a desolate curse. hawk has a way of prying him open that he should be far more alarmed about. ]
Something on your mind, Hawk? [ embry tips his glass again, his throat bobbing as he drains it in another few gulps like it's cheap beer instead of top shelf scotch. carelessly, he sets the glass down and pushes into hawk's space, defiance written into every line of his body. ] Something you want to say?
[ his mouth is like a dare, hovering close, liquor sweet, only the faintest stain of red smudging the edge of his lips. by their sides, his hand brushes hawk's fingers, gentle, before grasping his wrist in a punishing grip, holding him there like he expects hawk to disappear. ]
If you want me to go, you have to make me.
[no, maybe hawk doesn't know embry the way ash or morgan or greer or any of the bevy of others like red lipstick woman knew embry. but he'd thought he was getting at least an honest piece of it all the same - whoever embry was deciding to be without all of them breathing down his neck, or without having to look up at maxen fucking colchester from his feet in worship like modern idolatry. he's had the decency to keep tim out of this (even when embry won't), and yet the man still keeps a grip on him that has done more than intrude. one wrong text, the right move in bed - and there he is again, reflected in those baby blues like he's in the goddamn room orchestrating the whole thing. maybe he's a little fed up. he'd been willing to let it slide when he was too bruised over the loss of senator smith to protest, grateful to have company in a moment of unbearable weakness as one of the pillars of his entire world was torn down - but now?
now it's back to the real world, and he's not willing to play so nice anymore.
not when embry's going to disregard the instincts hawk has honed to protect his ass - warranted or not, and not when he's going to play coy like whatever the fuck this is hasn't drastically changed from the day they set foot in lyonesse. christ, it's not like he's looking for something high school like a relationship or a label. but sometimes embry acts like they're in one anyway, or at least has the nerve to throw shit in his face and then get hurt when hawk dishes it right back.
he's about to refill both their glasses out of habit, because despite his original plan to try and do something nice for embry like he'd hinted at - the kind of thing that probably sends that same mixed message he's pissed off about receiving - he's not about to kick the guy out. not because he signs his checks, and not because he doesn't deserve it for waltzing in here acting every shade of childish, but because maybe this is just foreplay and he'll fuck the truth out of him later, when he's pushing him onto the bed and making him rethink every snide comment and hissy fit he's constantly throwing. maybe he just likes the fight.
maybe his own considerations need to feel earned.
or maybe he's just constantly throwing shit at a wall to figure out embry, hoping it'll stick and failing miserably.]
Is that how you put it to her? I'm sure it went over real well. Or did you come to this revelation after she tried to stick her tongue in your mouth?
[suddenly that familiar waft of cologne is under his nose, the precise flavor this scotch gets when it's sucked off embry's lips tempting him unreasonably to just give in and lean down to taste it. but the fingertips trailing his wrist wrap around hard, and hawk sets down the bottle so it isn't another casualty of today.]
Did I say anything about wanting you to go?
[his wrist twists, fingers jerking around at the right angle to reverse their positions and wrap snug against embry's instead in one fluid motion. he pulls embry flush against him, wondering if there will be a struggle, another fuck you cast out casually.]
You seem to be reading into a lot these days. Seems more like there's something on your mind.
[a beat, and his voice lowers into the rough, graveled timbre when he's demanded embry pull him out or hold off his bliss a little longer.]
Actually, maybe it's someone.
now it's back to the real world, and he's not willing to play so nice anymore.
not when embry's going to disregard the instincts hawk has honed to protect his ass - warranted or not, and not when he's going to play coy like whatever the fuck this is hasn't drastically changed from the day they set foot in lyonesse. christ, it's not like he's looking for something high school like a relationship or a label. but sometimes embry acts like they're in one anyway, or at least has the nerve to throw shit in his face and then get hurt when hawk dishes it right back.
he's about to refill both their glasses out of habit, because despite his original plan to try and do something nice for embry like he'd hinted at - the kind of thing that probably sends that same mixed message he's pissed off about receiving - he's not about to kick the guy out. not because he signs his checks, and not because he doesn't deserve it for waltzing in here acting every shade of childish, but because maybe this is just foreplay and he'll fuck the truth out of him later, when he's pushing him onto the bed and making him rethink every snide comment and hissy fit he's constantly throwing. maybe he just likes the fight.
maybe his own considerations need to feel earned.
or maybe he's just constantly throwing shit at a wall to figure out embry, hoping it'll stick and failing miserably.]
Is that how you put it to her? I'm sure it went over real well. Or did you come to this revelation after she tried to stick her tongue in your mouth?
[suddenly that familiar waft of cologne is under his nose, the precise flavor this scotch gets when it's sucked off embry's lips tempting him unreasonably to just give in and lean down to taste it. but the fingertips trailing his wrist wrap around hard, and hawk sets down the bottle so it isn't another casualty of today.]
Did I say anything about wanting you to go?
[his wrist twists, fingers jerking around at the right angle to reverse their positions and wrap snug against embry's instead in one fluid motion. he pulls embry flush against him, wondering if there will be a struggle, another fuck you cast out casually.]
You seem to be reading into a lot these days. Seems more like there's something on your mind.
[a beat, and his voice lowers into the rough, graveled timbre when he's demanded embry pull him out or hold off his bliss a little longer.]
Actually, maybe it's someone.
[ his nerve endings come to life with a pulse of heat, dancing to the rough stone of hawk's voice. their fling β and embry doesn't want to call it anything else now, doesn't want to admit that it could be anything else out of sheer fucking spite β means the press of hawk's body is familiar now, the corded lines of lean muscle, the sleek fabric of his suit, the woodsy spice soaking the pulse of his throat. the way hawk is looking at him, the way he's speaking to him sends a skitter of danger down his spine. he thought maybe he'd gotten away with it, his little slip during hawk's haze of grief, but no. the accusation is as pointed as a blade, and embry has nowhere to run.
ash's presence is suffocating as always β worse when he's already agitated, already guilty over more than just the ghosts lingering in his room. he never should have fallen into hawk's bed that night in the first place, not in the state hawk was in. embry knows well enough what it's like to bury your misery in a warm body, and all the shit that comes with it. ]
Jealousy's an interesting look on you.
[ since hawk has pulled him so close in his domineering, intimidating way, embry closes the minimal space between them and clashes their mouths together, giving him a deep, biting kiss, just narrowly stopping his hand from skimming up his perfect jawline and into the dark waves of his hair. he breaks the kiss with purpose, ignoring the skittish rhythm of his heart. ]
That's how it went over. That's how it felt. [ he licks his lips, steering hawk's attention back to the woman, the reason he should be mad, in a desperate attempt to bury any mentions of ash. ] You want me to rewind a couple years and show you how I fucked her, too?
ash's presence is suffocating as always β worse when he's already agitated, already guilty over more than just the ghosts lingering in his room. he never should have fallen into hawk's bed that night in the first place, not in the state hawk was in. embry knows well enough what it's like to bury your misery in a warm body, and all the shit that comes with it. ]
Jealousy's an interesting look on you.
[ since hawk has pulled him so close in his domineering, intimidating way, embry closes the minimal space between them and clashes their mouths together, giving him a deep, biting kiss, just narrowly stopping his hand from skimming up his perfect jawline and into the dark waves of his hair. he breaks the kiss with purpose, ignoring the skittish rhythm of his heart. ]
That's how it went over. That's how it felt. [ he licks his lips, steering hawk's attention back to the woman, the reason he should be mad, in a desperate attempt to bury any mentions of ash. ] You want me to rewind a couple years and show you how I fucked her, too?
[there's plenty of pettiness and spite for him to be mad about both. this would probably get him cancelled or whatever the hell their little social media intern is always parroting to their tired, fearless and compassionate millennial leader that has managed embry's accounts for months now - but it's ash that pisses him off more than some one-off woman. there's no real feelings there, most especially not when it was her embry was trying to escape to begin with. he's not jealous she ambushed him, more concerned that it happened than anything and what pandora's box this might have accidentally opened because this isn't his first rodeo and he's got that annoying, niggling instinct that this wasn't just some lonely past fuck looking to rekindle where there was no hope. that's not real competition.
it's another man in his bed that irks him, it's embry arched in ecstasy that hawk is doling out in ways he hasn't shared in almost three years with another human being only for it to be attributed to ash. it's not something as juvenile as jealousy because he knows that if ash were an available option embry might drop all of this in less time than it took for a heart to fucking beat to have it again - or at least, that's his increasingly sneaking suspicion. and no matter how perfect him and greer look holding hands, waving from balconies and gliding across a ballroom - sometimes tells him ash would do the same damn thing if the shoe were on the other foot. he doesn't know their whole sordid history, but he knows enough and it seems self-inflicted more than anything else. but he supposes if embry knew everything there was to the way him and tim ended - he'd have the right to laugh him out of his goddamn office talking about self-inflicted. it's like one of those irrational phobias - the knowledge that it can't hurt, that it's just a fucked up brain triggering all the wrong responses - but even knowing it doesn't make it go away. doesn't make someone choose the logical reactions. doesn't let things fall back into place easy.
christ.]
That's cute. If you're hoping for a catfight in the Olmstead Fountains over your honor, it's not happening.
[because it's not jealousy. and the last thing he's going to do is alert ash to this pining. maybe if he was a better man he would - but hawk can be just as selfish as embry thinks he is. and right now, he wants to chase after that delectable mouth and crush an arm around his waist so he can't go skittering off. wants to lick into velvety warmth and have him gasping for breath -
not separating from it and having hawk's eyes fly open before narrowing in annoyance at the charade.]
I get the picture. What I'm not getting is how the hell she came so close.
[the idea of more scotch is abandoned immediately, hand instead whipping out to grip embry's chin none too gently and drag him in for another searing kiss - almost too much - too fierce in the way he practically seeks to devour him from the inside out and too loud as he hums low against it. it should be dangerous how once he's started with this he can't quite seem to stop, ever since that hazy night of grief swathed in purple silk. it eats at him in a way he can't quite place, and that makes him angrier to have something that's been knocked loose from the otherwise well-oiled machine of his emotions.
angry enough to shift embry up against the bar, back hitting the countertop as one leg starts nudging between his thigh and his free hand reaches to yank at his tie and clack their teeth together as he breathes open-mouthed and disapproving against him.]
Had a nice evening planned, you know.
Nicer than whatever someone wearing that shade of red at 1:00 in the afternoon had going on.
[a pause, hawk knowing there's no going back once it's out of his mouth.]
And nicer than a man that's willing to watch you walk away without a fight probably has in him too.
it's another man in his bed that irks him, it's embry arched in ecstasy that hawk is doling out in ways he hasn't shared in almost three years with another human being only for it to be attributed to ash. it's not something as juvenile as jealousy because he knows that if ash were an available option embry might drop all of this in less time than it took for a heart to fucking beat to have it again - or at least, that's his increasingly sneaking suspicion. and no matter how perfect him and greer look holding hands, waving from balconies and gliding across a ballroom - sometimes tells him ash would do the same damn thing if the shoe were on the other foot. he doesn't know their whole sordid history, but he knows enough and it seems self-inflicted more than anything else. but he supposes if embry knew everything there was to the way him and tim ended - he'd have the right to laugh him out of his goddamn office talking about self-inflicted. it's like one of those irrational phobias - the knowledge that it can't hurt, that it's just a fucked up brain triggering all the wrong responses - but even knowing it doesn't make it go away. doesn't make someone choose the logical reactions. doesn't let things fall back into place easy.
christ.]
That's cute. If you're hoping for a catfight in the Olmstead Fountains over your honor, it's not happening.
[because it's not jealousy. and the last thing he's going to do is alert ash to this pining. maybe if he was a better man he would - but hawk can be just as selfish as embry thinks he is. and right now, he wants to chase after that delectable mouth and crush an arm around his waist so he can't go skittering off. wants to lick into velvety warmth and have him gasping for breath -
not separating from it and having hawk's eyes fly open before narrowing in annoyance at the charade.]
I get the picture. What I'm not getting is how the hell she came so close.
[the idea of more scotch is abandoned immediately, hand instead whipping out to grip embry's chin none too gently and drag him in for another searing kiss - almost too much - too fierce in the way he practically seeks to devour him from the inside out and too loud as he hums low against it. it should be dangerous how once he's started with this he can't quite seem to stop, ever since that hazy night of grief swathed in purple silk. it eats at him in a way he can't quite place, and that makes him angrier to have something that's been knocked loose from the otherwise well-oiled machine of his emotions.
angry enough to shift embry up against the bar, back hitting the countertop as one leg starts nudging between his thigh and his free hand reaches to yank at his tie and clack their teeth together as he breathes open-mouthed and disapproving against him.]
Had a nice evening planned, you know.
Nicer than whatever someone wearing that shade of red at 1:00 in the afternoon had going on.
[a pause, hawk knowing there's no going back once it's out of his mouth.]
And nicer than a man that's willing to watch you walk away without a fight probably has in him too.
[ he could let it go. he could fall into the kiss and start something new, slip a hook into hawk's want and angle it just the way he likes, the way they both like, because the desire between them is electric despite all the needling and vexation. embry has thrown enough petty tantrums that he knows how to get what he wants, most of the time, or at least some of the time, even if he is still figuring all of this out. both of them are. luckily, what he wants usually aligns with antagonizing whoever he's with, which makes things that much simpler.
but this is different. the words out of hawk's mouth stop him dead where he was previously distracted by the possibility of whatever nice thing hawk might have planned. the words hurt like a gunshot, and just like when he'd felt that first bite of fire sinking into his flesh back in carpathia, he reacts like a cornered animal, his fists digging into hawk's lapels, driving him across the room with a hard shove, just narrowly missing the coffee table. ]
He did fight for me!
[ he snarls it in hawk's perfect face, the hot prick of tears needling at his eyes. but the voice in the hollow part of his chest speaks up almost instantly: did he? didn't ash end it all the second embry couldn't give him everything? did he even try to understand that he had given him everything, every last drop of sweat and blood, wrung out at his feet? he'd thrown away every chance at happiness, given up the pursuit of ever having anyone else, all for ash. he'd stood by his side and watched him recite his wedding vows to jenny like it was nothing, like it hadn't destroyed something inside of him, and now β greer. ash gets second and third chances at happiness and embry can't even get one.
it takes several long seconds for the room to come back into focus. he has hawk pinned against the couch, his knee digging into his ribs. shards of crystal and smudged ash streak the floor from the ashtray that must have fallen and shattered when he'd shoved hawk across the room. embry's breath is ragged, his fingers shaking where he still holds fistfuls of hawk's collar. he feels flayed open, like he's just confessed to the very thing he vowed to suffer the burden of alone. it would be fitting if merlin materialized behind him and put him out of his misery.
he draws back, leaving hawk on the couch as he sidesteps the mess of broken glass, snatching his coat. he's seriously reached his quota of fuck-ups today, and he feels like hawk's broken ashtray, filthy and in pieces, and he just wants to be anywhere but here, where hawk's pity would be far, far worse than his punishment. ]
but this is different. the words out of hawk's mouth stop him dead where he was previously distracted by the possibility of whatever nice thing hawk might have planned. the words hurt like a gunshot, and just like when he'd felt that first bite of fire sinking into his flesh back in carpathia, he reacts like a cornered animal, his fists digging into hawk's lapels, driving him across the room with a hard shove, just narrowly missing the coffee table. ]
He did fight for me!
[ he snarls it in hawk's perfect face, the hot prick of tears needling at his eyes. but the voice in the hollow part of his chest speaks up almost instantly: did he? didn't ash end it all the second embry couldn't give him everything? did he even try to understand that he had given him everything, every last drop of sweat and blood, wrung out at his feet? he'd thrown away every chance at happiness, given up the pursuit of ever having anyone else, all for ash. he'd stood by his side and watched him recite his wedding vows to jenny like it was nothing, like it hadn't destroyed something inside of him, and now β greer. ash gets second and third chances at happiness and embry can't even get one.
it takes several long seconds for the room to come back into focus. he has hawk pinned against the couch, his knee digging into his ribs. shards of crystal and smudged ash streak the floor from the ashtray that must have fallen and shattered when he'd shoved hawk across the room. embry's breath is ragged, his fingers shaking where he still holds fistfuls of hawk's collar. he feels flayed open, like he's just confessed to the very thing he vowed to suffer the burden of alone. it would be fitting if merlin materialized behind him and put him out of his misery.
he draws back, leaving hawk on the couch as he sidesteps the mess of broken glass, snatching his coat. he's seriously reached his quota of fuck-ups today, and he feels like hawk's broken ashtray, filthy and in pieces, and he just wants to be anywhere but here, where hawk's pity would be far, far worse than his punishment. ]
[for a minute he thinks maybe he's driven the point home well enough - or maybe it's just been the right amount of time passed to let it go. plenty of the shit wrapped up in ash has gone unquestioned - even when his name spilled out of embry's goddamn mouth in the middle of one of the more tender moments he's had a body in his bed and actually managed to connect with someone. not just anyone, but embry, who should know by now what that means on some level. so yeah - it seems like maybe he'll get his one mean quip in and they can move on like fucking adults. maybe embry will take a hint and finally try and move on instead of suspending himself in this limbo where he keeps hoping for the thing he's already denied and pushing good things away all the same.
(he knows he's not exactly a good thing though, but - good enough?)
but the second it lands something in embry's face twists and he knows it's torn him up as easily as if he'd just knifed him in the ribs. christ. and just as quickly hawk knows it's gonna be a fight - but a screaming match that ends with them vicious and horizontal would be preferable to the way he looks utterly broken by it, wounded immeasurably and covering it with a layer anger instead of lashing out with the vitriol itself. this wasn't supposed to actually hurt him, wasn't supposed to draw tears to the corner of his hauntingly pretty blue eyes and make them narrow at him with the iciness of real pain. so sure, the next logical step is for him to lash out - perfectly raw in the near childish insistence of one simple sentence - enough that it stops hawk from the way he'd been about to laugh in disbelief when the opposite seems truer.
it doesn't wholly catch him by surprise to feel fists at his chest, to be uprighted and shoved across the room before tumbling against the couch and letting embry's blind rage and the fever burning him from the inside out work its way into a visceral, physical manifestation of it all. he doesn't fight back in the slightest, letting him dig that knee against his ribs, knowing the ash tray he'd been given for his five-years of service at the white house is cracked to pieces and there's filth he'll have to clean up later. but none of that matters as he watches embry come back to himself with realization, stumbling up onto his feet and making for the exit.
that's exactly what he was expecting, and hawk mimics his movements by sidestepping the mess for now with his face hardened into a firm but imploring expression as he reaches for embry's arm. not hard enough to stop him if he were to insist - but enough to bring his attention back.]
He didn't.
[so what if he doesn't know the details. all he knows is - ]
Timothy Laughlin. The boy with the charity pitch.
[hawk sucks in a breath, shaking his head slightly, because it feels like it was punched out of him - a story he never meant to share, but that's tumbled out anyway because empathy seems like the best option. his voice is rough with a tinge of bitterness, unable to bite it back even now, even if he's told himself a hundred times and more that what's done is done.]
It's the same thing. I wanted him. Wanted to be with him. But I guess I didn't want it bad enough, because if I had - that's where I'd be right now.
[his jaw tightens, lips twitching for a moment as he draws in closer to look embry in the eye.]
Ash is the President of the goddamn United States. He's got more power in a his pinky than you and I combined. And you're saying - you're here with me because he fought for you?
[his expression isn't cruel, and it's not that he's trying to rub it in. but he's tired of seeing embry blame himself and pick at the same scab over and over again, deepening the wound.]
Don't believe it for a second.
(he knows he's not exactly a good thing though, but - good enough?)
but the second it lands something in embry's face twists and he knows it's torn him up as easily as if he'd just knifed him in the ribs. christ. and just as quickly hawk knows it's gonna be a fight - but a screaming match that ends with them vicious and horizontal would be preferable to the way he looks utterly broken by it, wounded immeasurably and covering it with a layer anger instead of lashing out with the vitriol itself. this wasn't supposed to actually hurt him, wasn't supposed to draw tears to the corner of his hauntingly pretty blue eyes and make them narrow at him with the iciness of real pain. so sure, the next logical step is for him to lash out - perfectly raw in the near childish insistence of one simple sentence - enough that it stops hawk from the way he'd been about to laugh in disbelief when the opposite seems truer.
it doesn't wholly catch him by surprise to feel fists at his chest, to be uprighted and shoved across the room before tumbling against the couch and letting embry's blind rage and the fever burning him from the inside out work its way into a visceral, physical manifestation of it all. he doesn't fight back in the slightest, letting him dig that knee against his ribs, knowing the ash tray he'd been given for his five-years of service at the white house is cracked to pieces and there's filth he'll have to clean up later. but none of that matters as he watches embry come back to himself with realization, stumbling up onto his feet and making for the exit.
that's exactly what he was expecting, and hawk mimics his movements by sidestepping the mess for now with his face hardened into a firm but imploring expression as he reaches for embry's arm. not hard enough to stop him if he were to insist - but enough to bring his attention back.]
He didn't.
[so what if he doesn't know the details. all he knows is - ]
Timothy Laughlin. The boy with the charity pitch.
[hawk sucks in a breath, shaking his head slightly, because it feels like it was punched out of him - a story he never meant to share, but that's tumbled out anyway because empathy seems like the best option. his voice is rough with a tinge of bitterness, unable to bite it back even now, even if he's told himself a hundred times and more that what's done is done.]
It's the same thing. I wanted him. Wanted to be with him. But I guess I didn't want it bad enough, because if I had - that's where I'd be right now.
[his jaw tightens, lips twitching for a moment as he draws in closer to look embry in the eye.]
Ash is the President of the goddamn United States. He's got more power in a his pinky than you and I combined. And you're saying - you're here with me because he fought for you?
[his expression isn't cruel, and it's not that he's trying to rub it in. but he's tired of seeing embry blame himself and pick at the same scab over and over again, deepening the wound.]
Don't believe it for a second.
[ timothy laughlin. so embry had been close to the cracks in hawk's seemingly unbreakable shell, though the consolation prize of the admission doesn't fill him with any sense of satisfaction. he hurts suddenly for tim, who maybe wanted hawk as badly as embry wanted ash, viciously and hopelessly, and lost in the end. because hawk didn't want him badly enough.
he doesn't know which is true: that ash didn't want him badly enough to just give a goddamn inch and keep sneaking around until their presidential years were over, or embry didn't want him enough to sacrifice all the good that ash could do in office, all the good he could do for everyone else. all he knows is that he played ash like a fucking fiddle and the cruelty of his lies hold up to this day.
his knee-jerk reaction to hawk's grasp is to punch him, but he finds he can't move, his limbs brittle and aching as badly as his heart. the truth of this threatens to open its serrated mouth and swallow him whole. ]
Everything worked out β [ a low, quiet rasp, like an animal wounded. ] Exactly the way I wanted it to.
[ he'll never marry. never fall in love. never bring anyone home for christmas, just like he hasn't for the last thirty-odd years, and he'll die with a bottle of gin in his hand overlooking the lake house, because eventually ash will go off and raise horses in fucking montana with someone else and embry won't have anymore excuses to follow. he's mature enough to lie in the grave of his own making, at least, even if it makes him sick with grief.
he recovers his equilibrium and snatches his arm away from hawk, but he puts down his coat and goes to the closet instead, fumbling around until he returns with a broom. glass tinkles as he begins sweeping up the ashtray, his chest hollow and his skull buzzing. ]
People love Ash. They won't if they know he fucked me for years. [ loved him, wanted to marry him, would have given up his entire fucking future if embry had only said yes. his voice hardens, bitter to be raked over these old, familiar coals again. ] Everything I've done is to keep him in office. You're here as an extension of that. Don't forget it.
he doesn't know which is true: that ash didn't want him badly enough to just give a goddamn inch and keep sneaking around until their presidential years were over, or embry didn't want him enough to sacrifice all the good that ash could do in office, all the good he could do for everyone else. all he knows is that he played ash like a fucking fiddle and the cruelty of his lies hold up to this day.
his knee-jerk reaction to hawk's grasp is to punch him, but he finds he can't move, his limbs brittle and aching as badly as his heart. the truth of this threatens to open its serrated mouth and swallow him whole. ]
Everything worked out β [ a low, quiet rasp, like an animal wounded. ] Exactly the way I wanted it to.
[ he'll never marry. never fall in love. never bring anyone home for christmas, just like he hasn't for the last thirty-odd years, and he'll die with a bottle of gin in his hand overlooking the lake house, because eventually ash will go off and raise horses in fucking montana with someone else and embry won't have anymore excuses to follow. he's mature enough to lie in the grave of his own making, at least, even if it makes him sick with grief.
he recovers his equilibrium and snatches his arm away from hawk, but he puts down his coat and goes to the closet instead, fumbling around until he returns with a broom. glass tinkles as he begins sweeping up the ashtray, his chest hollow and his skull buzzing. ]
People love Ash. They won't if they know he fucked me for years. [ loved him, wanted to marry him, would have given up his entire fucking future if embry had only said yes. his voice hardens, bitter to be raked over these old, familiar coals again. ] Everything I've done is to keep him in office. You're here as an extension of that. Don't forget it.
[in a way, the violence is what he'd expect. that or embry lashing out with words that somehow cut deeper and make him wish for blood spotting his pristine white collar and leaking down his nose. part of him expected the spectacle around tim, the gotcha moment embry had been egging him towards weeks ago and he wouldn't indulge him with. he might now - or at the very least, he'd understand where it was coming from. if he was a better man there would be an apology so they could just move the fuck on, the polite pretending that ash isn't still tangled up somehow in embry's very dna and likely to crop back up at the most inopportune times of whatever this tenuous thing they've established is. or maybe that's his problem - this isn't a thing at all, and he's gone and let himself get fucking soft for the guy he's just supposed to work for. christ, he could have let tim keep his job and his dignity at that rate if he'd figured that out a few years sooner.
they have it in common though - being see-through when it comes to the lies. embry's more skilled than tim ever was in the delivery, but hawk's bullshit detector is too refined to believe a goddamn word out of his mouth right now. especially not one implying embry's where he wants to be. that he's somehow happy and it all worked it right. or maybe that's not quite it - it worked out the way he's convinced himself he wants it to, even if it's not what he really wants.]
Yeah. You seem fucking thrilled about how the chips have all fallen. Is that why you look at him like that when you think no one's watching? Pretend not to notice when he does the same, even with Greer in the same room?
[it's a wonder no one else has called them on it, for god's sake.
he lets embry pull away, thinking he'll start shrugging on his coat and get ready to bail now that things have gotten too real and too hard. now that someone has caught him, or more specifically hawk - who grates on his nerves and seems to piss him off as much as he pleases him when they aren't busy shooting barbed innuendos. he'd like to think he's done a fine job at his actual job, difficult as its been - and embry has always been his priority, even if that's starting to feel a bit like being taken for granted. his lips pull down into a frown, watching him clean and realizing the idea of embry doing manual labor is as foreign as the scotch sitting on his counter.
he grabs the dustpan, hidden behind a pile of boxes in the closet and comes back to kneel down in front of the mess, letting the broom find a destination in a team effort as he stares up the tortured look that's still unfairly gorgeous, the perfect picture of pain and bitterness and edges sharper than the shattered glass on the floor cutting him up from the inside.]
Maybe some of them won't. But the bigots in this country aren't exactly a secret. Not necessarily enough to ruin a re-election campaign either.
[that last bit - well, that stings more than he thought it might, even if he's always known that's the case. hawk pushes back onto his feet, taking the broom abruptly and finishing up on his own, partly so he can turn his back to embry as he carries it back to the closet and dumps out the tinker of crystal into the trash.]
Sure. All in a day's work.
[hawk turns, plastering on one of his practiced, pompous smiles that doesn't reach his eyes.]
Is that all I can help you with tonight, Mr. Moore?
they have it in common though - being see-through when it comes to the lies. embry's more skilled than tim ever was in the delivery, but hawk's bullshit detector is too refined to believe a goddamn word out of his mouth right now. especially not one implying embry's where he wants to be. that he's somehow happy and it all worked it right. or maybe that's not quite it - it worked out the way he's convinced himself he wants it to, even if it's not what he really wants.]
Yeah. You seem fucking thrilled about how the chips have all fallen. Is that why you look at him like that when you think no one's watching? Pretend not to notice when he does the same, even with Greer in the same room?
[it's a wonder no one else has called them on it, for god's sake.
he lets embry pull away, thinking he'll start shrugging on his coat and get ready to bail now that things have gotten too real and too hard. now that someone has caught him, or more specifically hawk - who grates on his nerves and seems to piss him off as much as he pleases him when they aren't busy shooting barbed innuendos. he'd like to think he's done a fine job at his actual job, difficult as its been - and embry has always been his priority, even if that's starting to feel a bit like being taken for granted. his lips pull down into a frown, watching him clean and realizing the idea of embry doing manual labor is as foreign as the scotch sitting on his counter.
he grabs the dustpan, hidden behind a pile of boxes in the closet and comes back to kneel down in front of the mess, letting the broom find a destination in a team effort as he stares up the tortured look that's still unfairly gorgeous, the perfect picture of pain and bitterness and edges sharper than the shattered glass on the floor cutting him up from the inside.]
Maybe some of them won't. But the bigots in this country aren't exactly a secret. Not necessarily enough to ruin a re-election campaign either.
[that last bit - well, that stings more than he thought it might, even if he's always known that's the case. hawk pushes back onto his feet, taking the broom abruptly and finishing up on his own, partly so he can turn his back to embry as he carries it back to the closet and dumps out the tinker of crystal into the trash.]
Sure. All in a day's work.
[hawk turns, plastering on one of his practiced, pompous smiles that doesn't reach his eyes.]
Is that all I can help you with tonight, Mr. Moore?
[ he wants to lash out. wants to tell hawk to mind his goddamn business, that ash doesn't look at him the way he used to and hawk wouldn't know because he wasn't there when he did. but embry knows the acute difference in ash's eyes, how his adoration is reserved for the looks he gives greer now, and she actually deserves it on account of not being a piece of shit who dragged his heart through the mud for years like embry did. ]
Greer is sweet and loyal and giving. And Ash loves her. [ all the things embry is not. ] Ash only looks at me because he's waiting for the next bomb to drop.
[ he doesn't want to hear about ash's chances as an openly queer president. embry's already given up too much to keep this boat steady; the risk is too high to throw it all away now. ash is too good, and besides, merlin would probably slit his throat in his sleep.
hawk's sudden dismissal might as well be a slap in the face. embry teeters for a moment, almost disbelieving that he's actually getting kicked out, but β doesn't he deserve it? he showed up here with lipstick on his mouth and ash's ghost trailing after him. there's no better place for him to be than sitting alone in his condo with a bottle of gin. it seems like even a smarmy shit like hawkins fuller who doesn't even like to fuck the same man twice has standards, and embry can't even meet them.
he shrugs his coat on, feeling for his phone and his keys and only finding his phone. fuck. whatever, sven will let him into his own goddamn house. ]
Mr. Moore? Enjoy fucking yourself, Hawk. [ he pulls the door open. ] Sorry about your goddamn ashtray.
Greer is sweet and loyal and giving. And Ash loves her. [ all the things embry is not. ] Ash only looks at me because he's waiting for the next bomb to drop.
[ he doesn't want to hear about ash's chances as an openly queer president. embry's already given up too much to keep this boat steady; the risk is too high to throw it all away now. ash is too good, and besides, merlin would probably slit his throat in his sleep.
hawk's sudden dismissal might as well be a slap in the face. embry teeters for a moment, almost disbelieving that he's actually getting kicked out, but β doesn't he deserve it? he showed up here with lipstick on his mouth and ash's ghost trailing after him. there's no better place for him to be than sitting alone in his condo with a bottle of gin. it seems like even a smarmy shit like hawkins fuller who doesn't even like to fuck the same man twice has standards, and embry can't even meet them.
he shrugs his coat on, feeling for his phone and his keys and only finding his phone. fuck. whatever, sven will let him into his own goddamn house. ]
Mr. Moore? Enjoy fucking yourself, Hawk. [ he pulls the door open. ] Sorry about your goddamn ashtray.
[ it's past noon when he's lucid enough to take in the flurry of missed calls and texts, his head throbbing with the most overwhelming hangover he's had since the day he had to watch ash say his marriage vows to someone else. there's a bottle of macallan 12 on the nightstand, two mismatched glasses from his bar. his sheets are soaked with sweat. he feels, literally, about three breaths away from giving up the fucking ghost.
he tries to sit up, but abandons the endeavor when pain spikes through his skull. no go. he's clearly not making it into the office today, which hawk has probably noticed by now. hawk also has a key to his place β which embry needs to fucking take back β but there's no evidence he's been by, and that... hurts, in a left field kind of way. he should, professionally, care if embry lives or dies, even if he personally does not.
to show evidence that he is, in fact, alive β ]
what made you not want timothy laughlin?
he tries to sit up, but abandons the endeavor when pain spikes through his skull. no go. he's clearly not making it into the office today, which hawk has probably noticed by now. hawk also has a key to his place β which embry needs to fucking take back β but there's no evidence he's been by, and that... hurts, in a left field kind of way. he should, professionally, care if embry lives or dies, even if he personally does not.
to show evidence that he is, in fact, alive β ]
what made you not want timothy laughlin?
[when embry has the time, he'll see at least two of those calls are from hawk from this morning. because he does care - both professionally and, damn it all to hell, personally too - if embry lives or dies. but he's been removed enough these past few weeks after embry walked out, through his own rat bastard stubbornness and a misplaced comment of intentional assholery not to notice anything too amiss.
he'll kick himself for that later, and it'll be his guilt to swallow like bile in his throat - but for now he just assumes embry's on some stupid bender, out late partying or drinking or snorting something he shouldn't. maybe he went and fucked that girl after all, and he wouldn't be the only one - not when hawk drove himself just outside dc lines on the maryland side and picked up someone with pretty blue eyes and dark jet hair. too bad the features weren't even passable, not even in the dim light of the hotel room - but all of them look the same more or less when they're shoved face first into a mattress.
the key to embry's place is burning a hole in his pocket, itching to be used, but hawk is trying his best to slog through this meeting on an upcoming fundraiser embry is supposed to be hosting to ash, biting his cheek through it and cursing the timing of it when his phone pings.
what the fuck?]
I called earlier. Take it you're not coming in today. I'll get the event planner started on the essentials.
[he could leave it at that. professional, disengaged. but he's had this nagging feeling something is off all along, stupidly chalking it up to embry in one of his moods.]
Why do you want to know that right now?
[another pause. his gut is telling him there's more to this.]
You'd get a better answer in person. I can be there in twenty.
he'll kick himself for that later, and it'll be his guilt to swallow like bile in his throat - but for now he just assumes embry's on some stupid bender, out late partying or drinking or snorting something he shouldn't. maybe he went and fucked that girl after all, and he wouldn't be the only one - not when hawk drove himself just outside dc lines on the maryland side and picked up someone with pretty blue eyes and dark jet hair. too bad the features weren't even passable, not even in the dim light of the hotel room - but all of them look the same more or less when they're shoved face first into a mattress.
the key to embry's place is burning a hole in his pocket, itching to be used, but hawk is trying his best to slog through this meeting on an upcoming fundraiser embry is supposed to be hosting to ash, biting his cheek through it and cursing the timing of it when his phone pings.
what the fuck?]
I called earlier. Take it you're not coming in today. I'll get the event planner started on the essentials.
[he could leave it at that. professional, disengaged. but he's had this nagging feeling something is off all along, stupidly chalking it up to embry in one of his moods.]
Why do you want to know that right now?
[another pause. his gut is telling him there's more to this.]
You'd get a better answer in person. I can be there in twenty.
[ oh. ash's fundraiser. well, hawk's on it, so all embry has to do is show up and convince everyone to throw money at their feet, which has always been the easy part. vivienne moore taught him well, after all.
good thing it's not today. today, he looks and feels like the shit on the bottom of someone's shoe. it can't have just been the scotch β he's too much of a seasoned drinker for that β but he doesn't remember crushing or snorting anything. he doesn't remember anything, actually, but clearly he'd shared a drink here. two glasses. he swallows in sudden discomfort, glancing around his bedroom. nothing else seems out of place, and secret service would have come in if anything had seemed amiss. he's been mad enough at hawk to start flirting with other people, and sure, it's conceivable he'd taken someone home. clearly, hawk isn't missing him, with all the mr. moore-ing he's been doing. ]
maybe i just wanted some conversation with my morning coffee.
[ his morning coffee at noon. he drags himself out of bed, grimacing at the stickiness between his legs. something shifts uncomfortably in his chest, and he buries it. ]
this isn't an invitation to come over. i'm busy.
so? what about mr. laughlin wasn't good enough for you?
he's smart. he's cute. i'd fuck him.
good thing it's not today. today, he looks and feels like the shit on the bottom of someone's shoe. it can't have just been the scotch β he's too much of a seasoned drinker for that β but he doesn't remember crushing or snorting anything. he doesn't remember anything, actually, but clearly he'd shared a drink here. two glasses. he swallows in sudden discomfort, glancing around his bedroom. nothing else seems out of place, and secret service would have come in if anything had seemed amiss. he's been mad enough at hawk to start flirting with other people, and sure, it's conceivable he'd taken someone home. clearly, hawk isn't missing him, with all the mr. moore-ing he's been doing. ]
maybe i just wanted some conversation with my morning coffee.
[ his morning coffee at noon. he drags himself out of bed, grimacing at the stickiness between his legs. something shifts uncomfortably in his chest, and he buries it. ]
this isn't an invitation to come over. i'm busy.
so? what about mr. laughlin wasn't good enough for you?
he's smart. he's cute. i'd fuck him.
[morning coffee at noon. radio silence for anything other than work until suddenly tim gets brought up with something like sentiment. something is going on - a post quarter life crisis? hookup gone wrong? his mins is racing with the possibilities that are all reasonable, but then there are the ones that are not that unreasonable. what if heβd done something stupid like drink too much, mix the wrong sort of thingβ¦?
heβs not waiting for an invitation to ask to move the meeting along and wrap up a little sooner - noting a hard stop in fifteen minutes that doesnβt exist.]
Tell you what - you like games. Letβs play one. An answer for an answer.
What are you busy with?
It had nothing to do with him not being good enough. Youβre right. He is smart. Cute. Sweet.
Tim wanted something I couldnβt give him.
heβs not waiting for an invitation to ask to move the meeting along and wrap up a little sooner - noting a hard stop in fifteen minutes that doesnβt exist.]
Tell you what - you like games. Letβs play one. An answer for an answer.
What are you busy with?
It had nothing to do with him not being good enough. Youβre right. He is smart. Cute. Sweet.
Tim wanted something I couldnβt give him.
[ somehow he thinks picking up the pieces of my goddamn life isn't the answer he should give hawk. he tilts the bottle, squinting at the label. nothing out of the ordinary. it's his own bottle from his own bar. one of the glasses has red lipstick on it.
red lipstick. jesus fuck.
so maybe he got blackout drunk and had sex with erin last night. not a big deal. he's fucked her before. just because he doesn't remember doesn't mean it wasn't good. sex is always good. ]
i want to get some reading done in the shower. your presence would be a distraction.
[ he's already turning on the water to wash the sweat and semen off his skin, avoiding looking at his bloodshot eyes in the mirror. the light hurts. ]
what? he wanted to marry you?
[ he means it as a joke. marriage, the thorn in his side, the knife in his heart, the thing everyone thinks he doesn't want. ]
red lipstick. jesus fuck.
so maybe he got blackout drunk and had sex with erin last night. not a big deal. he's fucked her before. just because he doesn't remember doesn't mean it wasn't good. sex is always good. ]
i want to get some reading done in the shower. your presence would be a distraction.
[ he's already turning on the water to wash the sweat and semen off his skin, avoiding looking at his bloodshot eyes in the mirror. the light hurts. ]
what? he wanted to marry you?
[ he means it as a joke. marriage, the thorn in his side, the knife in his heart, the thing everyone thinks he doesn't want. ]
Edited 2024-03-17 18:45 (UTC)
Why the shower at almost noon?
[he knows embry's schedule. there's a dozen other questions - like why the fuck he reads in the shower, or if he'd be a good distraction or a bad distraction right now - but that one seems less pointed.
that gives him pause though, because no - it wasn't even marriage. it makes things seem so much smaller in comparison. makes him sound like even worse of a bastard, even if he'd done it with at least one measure of good intent getting him out of a dangerous situation before someone else did far worse.]
He got too close - to a hard truth about the job and me. You know what they say about birds and stones. And even you can't complain about my efficiency.
[he knows embry's schedule. there's a dozen other questions - like why the fuck he reads in the shower, or if he'd be a good distraction or a bad distraction right now - but that one seems less pointed.
that gives him pause though, because no - it wasn't even marriage. it makes things seem so much smaller in comparison. makes him sound like even worse of a bastard, even if he'd done it with at least one measure of good intent getting him out of a dangerous situation before someone else did far worse.]
He got too close - to a hard truth about the job and me. You know what they say about birds and stones. And even you can't complain about my efficiency.
[ he reads hawk's message after he's wrapped up in his turquoise tom ford bathrobe, courtesy of morgan from two christmases ago, water dripping from the dark waves of his hair. he feels only marginally more alive after his shower. ]
i overslept. drank too much last night.
[ it feels wrong to send that message, like maybe he should be saying more, like i don't remember anything that happened last night, and because he feels like puking his guts up, he starts brewing coffee in the kitchen.
he's starting to put the pieces together about tim, and it looks as bad as he can safely assume all of hawk's relationships look. he got too close. what the fuck does that mean? except embry knows exactly what that means, because ash had been too close from the start, and if only embry had listened to his gut the day ash had pinned him to the wall for being an insubordinate little shit the day they'd met, maybe he wouldn't be miserable right now. ]
you work for me now. you can date anyone you want.
do you still want him?
i overslept. drank too much last night.
[ it feels wrong to send that message, like maybe he should be saying more, like i don't remember anything that happened last night, and because he feels like puking his guts up, he starts brewing coffee in the kitchen.
he's starting to put the pieces together about tim, and it looks as bad as he can safely assume all of hawk's relationships look. he got too close. what the fuck does that mean? except embry knows exactly what that means, because ash had been too close from the start, and if only embry had listened to his gut the day ash had pinned him to the wall for being an insubordinate little shit the day they'd met, maybe he wouldn't be miserable right now. ]
you work for me now. you can date anyone you want.
do you still want him?
[that much was inferred. still - embry's not one even at his worst to not be able to handle feeling a little rough in the morning. this feels different.]
Where'd you go drinking?
[it's too goddamn early for this interrogation though. he's regretting playing along - but if it's supposed to be a peace offering for this stupid stand off they've been in since last time they were in close quarters, he'll take it. if only to make sure he's alright and satisfy this niggling alarm blaring in his head that something is off.
it's been long enough anyway that he can at least talk about it. kind of.]
Not the right question to ask.
That door is shut; it'll only open on one side. And it isn't mine.
Where'd you go drinking?
[it's too goddamn early for this interrogation though. he's regretting playing along - but if it's supposed to be a peace offering for this stupid stand off they've been in since last time they were in close quarters, he'll take it. if only to make sure he's alright and satisfy this niggling alarm blaring in his head that something is off.
it's been long enough anyway that he can at least talk about it. kind of.]
Not the right question to ask.
That door is shut; it'll only open on one side. And it isn't mine.
[ christ. if only he knew the answer to that. ]
didn't go anywhere. all the fun happened here.
[ it's his basic assumption, anyway. ]
i'm sure your place hasn't been empty, either.
never the same guy twice though, right?
that doesn't count as my question. give me a minute.
[ he pours his coffee and foregoes cream and sugar, sipping at it black while he slumps down at his table and tries to will away the ache in his head. he needs to schedule his housekeeper to make an early visit. he needs to stop drinking entirely.
he considers it a great feat of self-control that he doesn't text hawk what he wants to, which is big surprise tim doesn't fucking want you anymore. he instead thinks about how he understands hawk on a disgustingly cellular level, the urge to hide, the urge to fight against your most basic wants. ]
do you want that door to open?
didn't go anywhere. all the fun happened here.
[ it's his basic assumption, anyway. ]
i'm sure your place hasn't been empty, either.
never the same guy twice though, right?
that doesn't count as my question. give me a minute.
[ he pours his coffee and foregoes cream and sugar, sipping at it black while he slumps down at his table and tries to will away the ache in his head. he needs to schedule his housekeeper to make an early visit. he needs to stop drinking entirely.
he considers it a great feat of self-control that he doesn't text hawk what he wants to, which is big surprise tim doesn't fucking want you anymore. he instead thinks about how he understands hawk on a disgustingly cellular level, the urge to hide, the urge to fight against your most basic wants. ]
do you want that door to open?
Edited 2024-03-17 19:55 (UTC)
[it doesn't count as his question, and it would take more than one person to answer it anyway - which there hasn't been. but he'll throw him a bone.]
My place is always empty. You should know that.
[except when embry was there. except when tim was there, too.
but that's even worse to consider - how much alcohol happened at home for embry to be this bad off? and why does his brain immediately jump to the conclusion that it's either spite or something far more insidious - because coincidences don't happen according to hawkins fuller.]
Let me guess. Red lipstick girl?
[there's a long delay before he answers that, mostly because he's actually giving it some thought. things he's buried for a long fucking time, coped with the best way how by flat out ignoring it. a year ago? yeah. he'd probably have gone for it. now?]
I don't think so.
[maybe the most honest thing he'll ever admit to:]
He deserves better.
My place is always empty. You should know that.
[except when embry was there. except when tim was there, too.
but that's even worse to consider - how much alcohol happened at home for embry to be this bad off? and why does his brain immediately jump to the conclusion that it's either spite or something far more insidious - because coincidences don't happen according to hawkins fuller.]
Let me guess. Red lipstick girl?
[there's a long delay before he answers that, mostly because he's actually giving it some thought. things he's buried for a long fucking time, coped with the best way how by flat out ignoring it. a year ago? yeah. he'd probably have gone for it. now?]
I don't think so.
[maybe the most honest thing he'll ever admit to:]
He deserves better.
[ he does know that, sort of. hawk doesn't bring any of his random fucks home, and it isn't lost on embry that he'd briefly spent a whirlwind of evenings in hawk's apartment, as if those rules hadn't applied to him. apparently, they actually hadn't. he always left before he could fall asleep for real in hawk's bed, because that felt like a real, honest step toward something, and embry doesn't have a real or honest bone in his body, or at least not any he's practiced in using. ]
you let me in.
would you have let me stay the night?
[ if he'd pushed for it. if he'd just decided one night not to leave. if tim deserves better then what does that say about embry that he can't even hold this shit together?
his nausea comes back at the question, an itch clawing beneath his skin. he makes it to the couch just as a wave of dizziness sends spots dancing across his vision, sinking into the soft cushions and reaching for a half empty bottle of water from days ago, guzzling it down his parched throat. ]
so what if it is her? maybe i like her. maybe i like that she doesn't fucking act like you. that she's there for me and you're not.
i want my goddamn keys back. you didn't even get my dry cleaning.
you let me in.
would you have let me stay the night?
[ if he'd pushed for it. if he'd just decided one night not to leave. if tim deserves better then what does that say about embry that he can't even hold this shit together?
his nausea comes back at the question, an itch clawing beneath his skin. he makes it to the couch just as a wave of dizziness sends spots dancing across his vision, sinking into the soft cushions and reaching for a half empty bottle of water from days ago, guzzling it down his parched throat. ]
so what if it is her? maybe i like her. maybe i like that she doesn't fucking act like you. that she's there for me and you're not.
i want my goddamn keys back. you didn't even get my dry cleaning.
That was the plan, among other things. Got you that stupid wine you pretend not to like and everything.
[it doesn't say anything about embry - and it hadn't been the intent to make him feel that way. it should say more about hawk and the fact that he's come a little further, or at least - that he's found someone worth trying for. but maybe not, seeing as he can't and won't make the effort to articulate it any more than that statement might.]
Picked it up this morning. I'll drop it off and bring your key, if that's what you want.
[not what he wants, but fine. this is just a job, or so embry told him last time they were together.]
Did you call her, or did she find you?
Seems awful convenient for her to keep turning up. But if you're happy - far be it for me to intrude.
[it doesn't say anything about embry - and it hadn't been the intent to make him feel that way. it should say more about hawk and the fact that he's come a little further, or at least - that he's found someone worth trying for. but maybe not, seeing as he can't and won't make the effort to articulate it any more than that statement might.]
Picked it up this morning. I'll drop it off and bring your key, if that's what you want.
[not what he wants, but fine. this is just a job, or so embry told him last time they were together.]
Did you call her, or did she find you?
Seems awful convenient for her to keep turning up. But if you're happy - far be it for me to intrude.
[ he remembers, vaguely, that hawk had something planned for that night everything had gone wrong. something that sounded nice, something that wasn't supposed to end the way their night had actually ended. he doesn't think he'll ever find out what it was, and he's too stubborn to ask now. ]
you're not getting an invitation over.
i'll get it from you at the office.
[ mostly because he doesn't want hawk to see the state he's in. he looks bad even for his own tarnished reputation, like he might need more than just a day to get this out of his system.
did he call her? furiously, he scrolls through his calls and texts, and finds nothing he doesn't recognize. no numbers not in his contacts. no trace of what could have transpired the night before. his stomach sinks as he keeps looking, his efforts futile. ]
of course i called her. we have history.
stop trying to twist this to fit your own stupid narrative.
who did you fuck last?
you're not getting an invitation over.
i'll get it from you at the office.
[ mostly because he doesn't want hawk to see the state he's in. he looks bad even for his own tarnished reputation, like he might need more than just a day to get this out of his system.
did he call her? furiously, he scrolls through his calls and texts, and finds nothing he doesn't recognize. no numbers not in his contacts. no trace of what could have transpired the night before. his stomach sinks as he keeps looking, his efforts futile. ]
of course i called her. we have history.
stop trying to twist this to fit your own stupid narrative.
who did you fuck last?
What else is new. I don't remember having one to begin with.
[doesn't mean he's not making his own. there's enough cause for alarm now, and hawk is wrapping up this meeting only half-listening to the few lukewarm pitches on theme that have been tossed around. notably there's been little contribution on his end, but getting out of here is more important right now than what's going to appeal to the changing whims of all the chucklefucks with deep pockets and a hankering for progressive politics in washington.]
Did you get her name, this time? You couldn't remember that night. Might have been awkward.
[there's no narrative he's trying to create. it's writing itself. if embry didn't even remember her name, then how the fuck did he have her number? and if he didn't have her number, where did she bump into him? maybe he can catch sven before he heads over for some clarity.]
As for me, I haven't got a fucking clue. Doesn't really matter anyway, some nobody in Maryland from halfway across the country and he spent the whole time face down.
[doesn't mean he's not making his own. there's enough cause for alarm now, and hawk is wrapping up this meeting only half-listening to the few lukewarm pitches on theme that have been tossed around. notably there's been little contribution on his end, but getting out of here is more important right now than what's going to appeal to the changing whims of all the chucklefucks with deep pockets and a hankering for progressive politics in washington.]
Did you get her name, this time? You couldn't remember that night. Might have been awkward.
[there's no narrative he's trying to create. it's writing itself. if embry didn't even remember her name, then how the fuck did he have her number? and if he didn't have her number, where did she bump into him? maybe he can catch sven before he heads over for some clarity.]
As for me, I haven't got a fucking clue. Doesn't really matter anyway, some nobody in Maryland from halfway across the country and he spent the whole time face down.
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