You did give me something, but not how he's thinking, I'm sure. I get that, though, since he's lived through some scary shit. What's changed, though? I'm still here. I still love him desperately and I wouldn't have cried on his shoulder if he didn't mean the world to me. Why take it out on you?
I think you've earned the right to ask, but it's not creative or impressive: I was feeling very worn down and vulnerable and sick. I'd lost two people to death in this place right before getting myself killed, and I knowingly meddled in relationships that I didn't take the time to consider. I think we both know if we would have thought it might upset someone, we would have at least thought twice. But I don't regret it. It was a really good time, just maybe not the right time if we wanted to keep everyone happy.
I do want everyone to be happy. Seems like a losing battle in a place like this, but it's still better than anywhere I've ever been. I'd do anything for you guys. Just didn't realize I might be the one you all need protecting from.
For what it's worth, sounds like you were plenty intimate with him. I've fucked my fair share of guys. Haven't cried with very many, though.
Holy self deprecation followed immediately by boasting, Batman. We're a lot more alike that you think, Wes. And for what it's worth, if we all need protection from you, then we all need protection from me, too.
I stepped out on Bruce and I'm lucky he's understanding and we're stupid about labeling things. Navigating a half dozen different preferences isn't exactly easy, though, and just because you and I aren't the type to tie people down doesn't make us inherently wrong anymore than making them inherently right.
We maybe could do with better communication all around, though.
The way this place spins us on a dime, maybe we all need protection from each other. Not a lot of people have done the kinds of things I have, though. You don't just get to say you're sorry and walk away from all that.
I like you a lot, Blake. Communication isn't really a talent of mine, but I'll take what practice I can get. You've been there for me from day one. You put yourself on the line for me when you didn't even know me, and you still haven't stopped.
Trust me when I say I need no help getting myself into awkward positions with Bruce Banner. That's both a talent and innuendo at its best.
You're good, Wes. Even if you weren't always, by your own admission, that you're doing all you can now isn't to be dismissed. We need to be kind to ourselves in this place and I mean it when I say that I think it's probably the best second chance a lot of people will ever get. That should be encouraged and not squandered.
I told him I would fuck him too if that's what he wanted and it shut him up pretty quick. I think I probably owe him an apology for that, but also he sort of asked for it, too.
Not the first time. He used to do it plenty. We'd argue, he'd run off and pick up some guy at a shitty bar. Use him for the night, and we'd be off to the next town in the morning. I always thought he wanted to prove how easily he could replace me, but he always came back.
I think he's just confused. We all are. It'd be hypocritical of me if I said I minded, wouldn't it?
Don't go out of your way. JP probably has something you can bring. We can chalk this up to practicing our communication. But I am going to make you quantify calling me 'cute' when you get here.
You said it. Hang tight, I'll be around in about an hour.
Despite Blake's suggestion, Wes can't think of a way he'd explain to Jean-Paul what he's doing with the man's romance novels. Instead, he heads to the library. It's not a place he's bothered to spend much time since his arrival, but perusing the stacks of books makes Wes think he could get lost in them if given the chance. He scarcely realizes how much time has passed by the time he's walking out with a small armful, but the clock in his Buick gives him reason to hurry. Eggs and milk procured -- along with a six pack of beer, for the hell of it -- he takes the drive to Blake's.
The mood is pretty different from the last time he found himself stumbling toward this target. Wes sits in the car for over a minute, wondering if this is right or wrong. If he should text Jean-Paul and tell him he's doing this, or if his partner's concern applies only to sex. Surely he's allowed to hang out with a friend. Resolved that they're certainly not going to fuck again, Wes cuts off the engine and goes to knock on the door.
Blake doesn't think twice about the implications of meeting again in this place where they'd last found trouble together. He doesn't think about texting anyone — not Jean-Paul nor Bruce — because he doesn't feel there's any need to do so, not when they're just two friends hanging out.
Heading to the door, he opens it with a smile, still tired but obviously on his way to recovery. It'll be a couple more days before he's fully righted, but the improvement is obvious, as is the smell of cleaning products in the air. He's got a dish towel tossed over his shoulder and he immediately waves Wrench inside.
Thanks. Come in. Good to see you. He signs as rapidly as he can, then reaches out to help the other man with his load, starting with the eggs and the beer. He raises an eyebrow at Wrench over the beer, but he's grinning nonetheless.
Good to see you too. You look a little better. If Wes has any idea that he and Blake have interacted more recently in child form, he doesn't let on. Instead, he grins when the man clears his hands of the beer as top priority. He glances around the space and toes out of his boots before following him towards the kitchen to offload the milk and stack the books on the countertop. Wes can't say he was paying much attention to the decor the last time he was here, and he realizes now how much the state of his own drunkenness had tunneled his vision around that singular goal.
When Blake turns back around, he allows himself to be caught staring. Nice place, he gestures a finger around the area demonstratively. It's apparent that Blake has been here for a while. It also seems evident that he takes pride in his living space. Wes can't honestly say he's spent too much time in places this fancy, and he's glad that he abandoned his shoes early on, without tracking much more evidence of himself onto the recently-cleaned surfaces of the home.
Blake does take a particular pride in his living space and appearance, although the majority of of what's in the condo was there when he opened the door the first time. He keeps it up, though, even when he's not living in the place full or even part time.
Thanks He hadn't thought about it before, but he realizes now that maybe the last time around things were a bit more of a blur for Wrench. Make yourself at home, he adds, setting everything down, putting it all away for the time being. He's not so sure about eggs and beer, so he leaves the beer out and noses through the collection, noting they're from the library. That's not without purpose, he imagines.
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I don't know. Maybe because he didn't hear it from me first? It was a bad conversation. I was stubborn and unsympathetic. That's on me.
Cried about what? Or should I not ask?
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For what it's worth, sounds like you were plenty intimate with him. I've fucked my fair share of guys. Haven't cried with very many, though.
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I stepped out on Bruce and I'm lucky he's understanding and we're stupid about labeling things. Navigating a half dozen different preferences isn't exactly easy, though, and just because you and I aren't the type to tie people down doesn't make us inherently wrong anymore than making them inherently right.
We maybe could do with better communication all around, though.
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Shit, should I be worried about Bruce too?
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I like you a lot, Blake. Communication isn't really a talent of mine, but I'll take what practice I can get. You've been there for me from day one. You put yourself on the line for me when you didn't even know me, and you still haven't stopped.
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You're good, Wes. Even if you weren't always, by your own admission, that you're doing all you can now isn't to be dismissed. We need to be kind to ourselves in this place and I mean it when I say that I think it's probably the best second chance a lot of people will ever get. That should be encouraged and not squandered.
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Yeah, well don't encourage too hard. Jean-Paul forgave me, but I'm on thin ice. He actually went to console Grady after.
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I told him I would fuck him too if that's what he wanted and it shut him up pretty quick. I think I probably owe him an apology for that, but also he sort of asked for it, too.
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Grady incites people as a way of hurting himself in the long run.
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I think he's just confused. We all are. It'd be hypocritical of me if I said I minded, wouldn't it?
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He'll come around here. Most people do. It's too hard to fight this place AND everyone else.
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Think I was supposed to be helping you feel better, and here I am complaining. I'm sorry. I'm going to get you those books.
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I'll prepare myself for that. Anything else you need?
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You know what that makes you. 😉
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Despite Blake's suggestion, Wes can't think of a way he'd explain to Jean-Paul what he's doing with the man's romance novels. Instead, he heads to the library. It's not a place he's bothered to spend much time since his arrival, but perusing the stacks of books makes Wes think he could get lost in them if given the chance. He scarcely realizes how much time has passed by the time he's walking out with a small armful, but the clock in his Buick gives him reason to hurry. Eggs and milk procured -- along with a six pack of beer, for the hell of it -- he takes the drive to Blake's.
The mood is pretty different from the last time he found himself stumbling toward this target. Wes sits in the car for over a minute, wondering if this is right or wrong. If he should text Jean-Paul and tell him he's doing this, or if his partner's concern applies only to sex. Surely he's allowed to hang out with a friend. Resolved that they're certainly not going to fuck again, Wes cuts off the engine and goes to knock on the door.
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Heading to the door, he opens it with a smile, still tired but obviously on his way to recovery. It'll be a couple more days before he's fully righted, but the improvement is obvious, as is the smell of cleaning products in the air. He's got a dish towel tossed over his shoulder and he immediately waves Wrench inside.
Thanks. Come in. Good to see you. He signs as rapidly as he can, then reaches out to help the other man with his load, starting with the eggs and the beer. He raises an eyebrow at Wrench over the beer, but he's grinning nonetheless.
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When Blake turns back around, he allows himself to be caught staring. Nice place, he gestures a finger around the area demonstratively. It's apparent that Blake has been here for a while. It also seems evident that he takes pride in his living space. Wes can't honestly say he's spent too much time in places this fancy, and he's glad that he abandoned his shoes early on, without tracking much more evidence of himself onto the recently-cleaned surfaces of the home.
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Thanks He hadn't thought about it before, but he realizes now that maybe the last time around things were a bit more of a blur for Wrench. Make yourself at home, he adds, setting everything down, putting it all away for the time being. He's not so sure about eggs and beer, so he leaves the beer out and noses through the collection, noting they're from the library. That's not without purpose, he imagines.
I'll get these back on time. Want a drink?
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