Reid Garwin (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
letsdropin) wrote2010-03-26 01:44 pm
letsdropin) wrote2010-03-26 01:44 pm
7s_prompts 5.4.7. Five promises you've kept and one you've broken.
A/N: Warning: M/M naughtiness in the first section. And the ending is a little bit of a downer. Tyler is their_babyboy, Pogue is lieutenantwitch, Chase is broken_circles. Alya doesn't have a journal yet, Joseph and Meredith are NPCs. Yay Girls/Divergence 'verse (although the first three can be applied to any 'verse.)
It didn't exactly always start as a promise. Actually, in the beginning it mostly started as a way to alleviate a dead-boring party, and then just because he could.
Sometimes it was food. Sometimes it was words, the jokes containing just the right measure of innuendo to make the younger boy blush, make the blue eyes widen, and glitter, and when he was being really outrageous, blaze at him with that unique mix of exasperation and want and irritation for being stranded at the receiving end of that in public where he couldn't do anything about it... and other things. Tyler always had a very keen ear; little that Reid said around him seemed to be wasted.
And he loved that, too.
Sometimes, it was touches, too. Passing by him and brushing the back of his hand against his hip. Or dancing with somebody that they both knew he wasn't going to do anything with, and moving his hands when he knew his best friend was watching, knowing that he'd be thinking of his hands over his body, instead.
Cheeks flushed, eyes brighter, lips darkening, and slightly parted. Shifting a little against his jeans or pants.
Ohyeah. Reid knew how to build up the tease and hold it up, even if, sure, it only worked right if it was good enough to be teasing himself, too.
But no matter why he started it, and no matter what manner of teasing it was?
Every single time when he began that game, he was then, later and in private... ish, available so that he and Tyler could finish it, the build-up and delay resulting in releases that were... Memorable. Reid liked being memorable (yes, even if and when he was fully aware that in Tyler's memory, there'd be always a special spot for him) - and he really loved being a brat. But not to the point where it would make anybody feel bad.
It was a simple rule, really. Don't tease unless you plan to deliver, be said delivery in its best, panting and gasping and sweating and exploding, connecting glory.
*
"Reid."
"... yeah, I know."
"You will get into trouble if you crash your GPA, man. And I don't want you to--"
"Yeah, yeah, I know, it'll be fine."
"It's not ... you know you can take them with flying colors. I know you can do it, too. You've just gotta sit on your butt long enough to actually do it, babe."
Reid's eyes crinkled, but otherwise his face didn't change as he murmured, "interested in my butt again?" A slight wiggle. "I can always..."
"Reid!" Butt he hazel eyes were laughing, too. "I know you can, but please get this done, okay?"
"Okay, okay. I will. I promise." Just a shade more wryly. "I won't stir her up or give her more of an excuse to go batshit on all of us." And especially himself. Prolonged exposure and all.
Pogue watched him for another moment, then nodded. "Good." Then he disentangled himself and finished dressing up.
"Hey. Have fun out, okay?"
"That's the plan." Light, unselfconscious toss of the head, just enough for the blond strands to float away from his cheek. "See you later."
"Oh yeah." Even if they didn't catch each other when Pogue got back from the freaking date... of course they would catch up later.
And the older blond was off.
He glared, a little, when he came back hours later only to find that Reid had raised hell in the dorm. Everybody was astir, from giggling girls to boys who seemed a little confused as to what they were supposed to do, to Tyler, who was facepalming - and looked balanced right between wanting to get to bed, finally, and laughing up a lung, still, to the supervisors in residence, trying to restore order and get everybody back to their rooms, put all back where it belonged.
"Reid!" Exasperated, if quiet. "You promised..."
"Hey, who said I didn't do what I promised?"
Pogue's eyes narrowed, and he made a vague motion around them; the younger just tilted his chin up, half a challenge. Pogue shook his head, backing off from the argument. "Let's get back to normal now, okay? We do all have that damn thing in the morning."
Tyler sighed, and Reid reached to pat his arm. "You'll do fine, baby boy. We'll all do fine. Oh, did you have fun on the date?"
"It was great." Kate was over there, trying to figure out what she'd missed with her roommate. "Right up until the very end."
"Spoilsport."
Reid's smile was triumphant, though, when the finals were graded and he could demonstrate that he had done good on his promise by waving the paper with it's A- at his friends.
*
"See?" Reid was practically bouncing, but, after the pointed look by the older boy, let go of the power, blue eyes clearing with a rushed explosion of amber moving out from the center of the black. "It does too work like that every time." The enthusiasm was a little less, now that the magic was out of his system; but it was a useful improvement to that spell, so he was still excited about it.
Caleb's eyes were narrowed in thought, and he nodded slowly. Here it's coming, here it's coming, I finally did something right, didn't I?
"... but it is quite a bit more energy-demanding, isn't it?"
The blond's breath puffed out as though he'd been punched in the chest, or the stomach, and he deflated. "Right." He didn't even want to switch from excited to cranky that quickly, dammit. "It's not a lot more, but... a bit."
Caleb sighed. "We really shouldn't be rushing into using more, you know that."
"Yeah, I do." Now he just felt tired. He hated how the older boy always did that. No matter what Reid did, it was never good enough, was it. No matter fucking what he did. No more words came his way, and he hunched, starting up the stairs and out of the basement. The words were not quite a snap, but... weren't easy, either. "I'll fix it, then."
"Fix it how?"
"Make it more energy-efficient." Yeah, his voice was just a little bit snarky, there. He couldn't help it. "How else?"
"Be careful."
The deep voice found its way up to him, and Reid turned and ... didn't quite, but almost snarled, "I'm fine, Caleb. I can take care of myself, and I can take care of this." And he turned away to go, again, running up the rest of the stairs and the muttered, "you'll see," covering any response that the other boy might have made.
And he did sit down and work through it. Slowly, systematically.
Even if he was pretty damn certain that Caleb would find a way to talk him down about something about it, anyway, he pared down the energy expenditure. Not quite down to the original spell, maybe, but the difference was negligible.
It was good enough to use, dammit.
*
"... you'll drink any crappy coffee, so long as there's a lot of it."
"Well. Yeah! But that so doesn't mean I don't know good coffee!"
Chase just snorted.
"Is that a challenge, Collins?"
The blue-green eyes blinked at him, and the answer was drawled. "So what if it is, Garwin?"
"Well, if it is, I'll find you the best damn coffee made to be sold in the area of the campus."
"Fine." There wasn't that much belief in the word. There wasn't much interest, either, for that matter.
That was alright. After all, Reid was hanging around the cafés at and about the campus, anyway. For various reasons. Ahem.
He started bringing in samples - well, cups of coffee - for Chase to try in their room soon enough. The reactions varied, from surprised raised eyebrows, to eyerolls, to a 'yeah, okay, you're weird, but I can live with it' kind of an acceptance, in the end.
But Reid took his time; he had made a promise. Or taken a dare, whatever. It didn't matter. It was months later when he popped up in their room, on a Saturday morning of lazy, welcome sunlight, paper cup in each hand, and set them before his roommate.
One cup nudged forward. "The best coffee the immediate, i.e., walking distance, area has to offer."
Chase smiled a little, then tried it. "Okay, it is good. And this?"
Reid shrugged a shoulder, but did wait for the second cup to be picked up, for the older boy to take a sip and choke on it. "And this is the worst," he smirked. "And don't ever say, anymore, that I don't know good coffee from bad!"
Chase was still coughing, lightly, and reaching for a paper towel to wipe away the bit of a mess from the sputtering. But when he caught his breath, his eyes narrowed at the blond. The look got a chin tilted up in response, and an I-win expression on his face.
To the surprise of both, Chase blinked for a moment longer, then started laughing. "So that's what you do with dares, hmm?"
"Yup."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"Good." Reid nodded, seriously, then took the second cup.
It made his roommate laugh a little more. "Please tell me you're not going to go and drink that, now."
The blond snorted. "Nah. Going to throw it away. It's a crime against humanity, or something like that..."
*
It wasn't just his promise. It was, in fact, a promise that the two of them made to each other. Not immediately, hell, they haven't moved nearly that fast; they didn't know how deep this would go. But way before they reached a stage of promises to have and hold until death and all that. Just... when they knew each other well enough to understand that it's why and how they worked.
A promise that they would keep on doing that. Talking and listening, and paying attention. Paying attention to what she had to say, what she wanted or needed or felt like telling him. Paying attention to what she wanted or needed, really, or when - or if - she had a problem, whether or not he could help with it.
A promise that they wouldn't grow translucent silences between them, the kind of silences that wrapped around people and kept them alone, isolated, hurting, even if the most important person they knew was right there, at an arm's reach or closer.
He wasn't perfect about that promise; there were times when momentum brought him a step further in doing things than she was in the mood to deal with at that time. True, extremely rare; but there were times.
Even then, he didn't let go of the promise; for him, it was a way of life. She'd react, and when he registered he'd missed something, he'd gone over the top, he'd back down. Or move sideways. And watch and listen. Even if it happened to be just to hear her tell him that she was going back to the lab and she'd call him tomorrow, or something of the sort.
It was a promise that he didn't plan on seeing broken. Ever. No more than he wanted her heart broken, or his own.
*
Reid found his dad in the room that she'd used as her office, in the Garwin residence. Sitting on one of the chairs by the wall, elbows on his knees, fingers twined over his forehead. He didn't look up when the younger man shuffled by, nor when he returned, with the glass of whiskey that he knew would be the next thing.
The sound of the gravel crunching under the tires as Meredith had driven away was echoing around the both of them; neither doubted that the other could hear it, too.
When the glass clinked against wood, Joseph started, and looked up. His eyes were dry. Too dry, like it hurt to have them open.
"She's not such a bad person..."
"Dad. Don't start trying to justify her or whatever. She knew. And she let it keep on happening. For years. That's not the worst, but it's pretty much out there."
The older man shook his head. "You don't understand." But he didn't explain. Didn't even attempt to.
"Yeah... I do, actually. But you rather stay stuck in the silence. So many years, didn't it grate? Did you even see what kind of person she'd become?"
Joseph started at his son, the blue eyes steady, burning, on him in return. For way too long. Then his mouth slowly worked, before the voice came back. Crackling a little, chipping off, at the edges. "I don't know."
It got Reid, in turn, to flinch, and dig his nails into his palms. "I'm sorry, dad."
"It's not something... no, you only did what you knew to be right."
The younger man shook his head, suddenly throat too tight to answer that. He'd promised himself. He didn't even recall the day; he'd been... six, maybe, or seven. Something like that. He'd promised himself that he'd get his parents to see and hear each other. And now that the divorce was in effect, the weight of that promise suddenly hunched his shoulders. After a small pause, he got out, "we should have been able to fix things. If you'd ... if you'd both only listened. Back when I was little..."
"Children aren't supposed to fix the life of adults, Reid."
"No, I mean... if you'd just listened to each other. It probably wouldn't have gotten this bad."
"Maybe." Now his father reached for the whiskey, the liquid burning enough to make him cough. "Go home, son. There's nothing left to fix, here."
"Dad..."
"I'll be alright."
He didn't leave immediately. Of course. Cooked, set things up... just made sure his father knew he wasn't left alone, not really.
Even with the intervening time, and not-fights, and snarled words, neither of them knew how to deal with the mess of shattered, scattered promises that what should have been their home now seemed buried knee-deep in.
*
their_babyboy, Pogue is lieutenantwitch, Chase is broken_circles. Alya doesn't have a journal It didn't exactly always start as a promise. Actually, in the beginning it mostly started as a way to alleviate a dead-boring party, and then just because he could.
Sometimes it was food. Sometimes it was words, the jokes containing just the right measure of innuendo to make the younger boy blush, make the blue eyes widen, and glitter, and when he was being really outrageous, blaze at him with that unique mix of exasperation and want and irritation for being stranded at the receiving end of that in public where he couldn't do anything about it... and other things. Tyler always had a very keen ear; little that Reid said around him seemed to be wasted.
And he loved that, too.
Sometimes, it was touches, too. Passing by him and brushing the back of his hand against his hip. Or dancing with somebody that they both knew he wasn't going to do anything with, and moving his hands when he knew his best friend was watching, knowing that he'd be thinking of his hands over his body, instead.
Cheeks flushed, eyes brighter, lips darkening, and slightly parted. Shifting a little against his jeans or pants.
Ohyeah. Reid knew how to build up the tease and hold it up, even if, sure, it only worked right if it was good enough to be teasing himself, too.
But no matter why he started it, and no matter what manner of teasing it was?
Every single time when he began that game, he was then, later and in private... ish, available so that he and Tyler could finish it, the build-up and delay resulting in releases that were... Memorable. Reid liked being memorable (yes, even if and when he was fully aware that in Tyler's memory, there'd be always a special spot for him) - and he really loved being a brat. But not to the point where it would make anybody feel bad.
It was a simple rule, really. Don't tease unless you plan to deliver, be said delivery in its best, panting and gasping and sweating and exploding, connecting glory.
*
"Reid."
"... yeah, I know."
"You will get into trouble if you crash your GPA, man. And I don't want you to--"
"Yeah, yeah, I know, it'll be fine."
"It's not ... you know you can take them with flying colors. I know you can do it, too. You've just gotta sit on your butt long enough to actually do it, babe."
Reid's eyes crinkled, but otherwise his face didn't change as he murmured, "interested in my butt again?" A slight wiggle. "I can always..."
"Reid!" Butt he hazel eyes were laughing, too. "I know you can, but please get this done, okay?"
"Okay, okay. I will. I promise." Just a shade more wryly. "I won't stir her up or give her more of an excuse to go batshit on all of us." And especially himself. Prolonged exposure and all.
Pogue watched him for another moment, then nodded. "Good." Then he disentangled himself and finished dressing up.
"Hey. Have fun out, okay?"
"That's the plan." Light, unselfconscious toss of the head, just enough for the blond strands to float away from his cheek. "See you later."
"Oh yeah." Even if they didn't catch each other when Pogue got back from the freaking date... of course they would catch up later.
And the older blond was off.
He glared, a little, when he came back hours later only to find that Reid had raised hell in the dorm. Everybody was astir, from giggling girls to boys who seemed a little confused as to what they were supposed to do, to Tyler, who was facepalming - and looked balanced right between wanting to get to bed, finally, and laughing up a lung, still, to the supervisors in residence, trying to restore order and get everybody back to their rooms, put all back where it belonged.
"Reid!" Exasperated, if quiet. "You promised..."
"Hey, who said I didn't do what I promised?"
Pogue's eyes narrowed, and he made a vague motion around them; the younger just tilted his chin up, half a challenge. Pogue shook his head, backing off from the argument. "Let's get back to normal now, okay? We do all have that damn thing in the morning."
Tyler sighed, and Reid reached to pat his arm. "You'll do fine, baby boy. We'll all do fine. Oh, did you have fun on the date?"
"It was great." Kate was over there, trying to figure out what she'd missed with her roommate. "Right up until the very end."
"Spoilsport."
Reid's smile was triumphant, though, when the finals were graded and he could demonstrate that he had done good on his promise by waving the paper with it's A- at his friends.
*
"See?" Reid was practically bouncing, but, after the pointed look by the older boy, let go of the power, blue eyes clearing with a rushed explosion of amber moving out from the center of the black. "It does too work like that every time." The enthusiasm was a little less, now that the magic was out of his system; but it was a useful improvement to that spell, so he was still excited about it.
Caleb's eyes were narrowed in thought, and he nodded slowly. Here it's coming, here it's coming, I finally did something right, didn't I?
"... but it is quite a bit more energy-demanding, isn't it?"
The blond's breath puffed out as though he'd been punched in the chest, or the stomach, and he deflated. "Right." He didn't even want to switch from excited to cranky that quickly, dammit. "It's not a lot more, but... a bit."
Caleb sighed. "We really shouldn't be rushing into using more, you know that."
"Yeah, I do." Now he just felt tired. He hated how the older boy always did that. No matter what Reid did, it was never good enough, was it. No matter fucking what he did. No more words came his way, and he hunched, starting up the stairs and out of the basement. The words were not quite a snap, but... weren't easy, either. "I'll fix it, then."
"Fix it how?"
"Make it more energy-efficient." Yeah, his voice was just a little bit snarky, there. He couldn't help it. "How else?"
"Be careful."
The deep voice found its way up to him, and Reid turned and ... didn't quite, but almost snarled, "I'm fine, Caleb. I can take care of myself, and I can take care of this." And he turned away to go, again, running up the rest of the stairs and the muttered, "you'll see," covering any response that the other boy might have made.
And he did sit down and work through it. Slowly, systematically.
Even if he was pretty damn certain that Caleb would find a way to talk him down about something about it, anyway, he pared down the energy expenditure. Not quite down to the original spell, maybe, but the difference was negligible.
It was good enough to use, dammit.
*
"... you'll drink any crappy coffee, so long as there's a lot of it."
"Well. Yeah! But that so doesn't mean I don't know good coffee!"
Chase just snorted.
"Is that a challenge, Collins?"
The blue-green eyes blinked at him, and the answer was drawled. "So what if it is, Garwin?"
"Well, if it is, I'll find you the best damn coffee made to be sold in the area of the campus."
"Fine." There wasn't that much belief in the word. There wasn't much interest, either, for that matter.
That was alright. After all, Reid was hanging around the cafés at and about the campus, anyway. For various reasons. Ahem.
He started bringing in samples - well, cups of coffee - for Chase to try in their room soon enough. The reactions varied, from surprised raised eyebrows, to eyerolls, to a 'yeah, okay, you're weird, but I can live with it' kind of an acceptance, in the end.
But Reid took his time; he had made a promise. Or taken a dare, whatever. It didn't matter. It was months later when he popped up in their room, on a Saturday morning of lazy, welcome sunlight, paper cup in each hand, and set them before his roommate.
One cup nudged forward. "The best coffee the immediate, i.e., walking distance, area has to offer."
Chase smiled a little, then tried it. "Okay, it is good. And this?"
Reid shrugged a shoulder, but did wait for the second cup to be picked up, for the older boy to take a sip and choke on it. "And this is the worst," he smirked. "And don't ever say, anymore, that I don't know good coffee from bad!"
Chase was still coughing, lightly, and reaching for a paper towel to wipe away the bit of a mess from the sputtering. But when he caught his breath, his eyes narrowed at the blond. The look got a chin tilted up in response, and an I-win expression on his face.
To the surprise of both, Chase blinked for a moment longer, then started laughing. "So that's what you do with dares, hmm?"
"Yup."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"Good." Reid nodded, seriously, then took the second cup.
It made his roommate laugh a little more. "Please tell me you're not going to go and drink that, now."
The blond snorted. "Nah. Going to throw it away. It's a crime against humanity, or something like that..."
*
It wasn't just his promise. It was, in fact, a promise that the two of them made to each other. Not immediately, hell, they haven't moved nearly that fast; they didn't know how deep this would go. But way before they reached a stage of promises to have and hold until death and all that. Just... when they knew each other well enough to understand that it's why and how they worked.
A promise that they would keep on doing that. Talking and listening, and paying attention. Paying attention to what she had to say, what she wanted or needed or felt like telling him. Paying attention to what she wanted or needed, really, or when - or if - she had a problem, whether or not he could help with it.
A promise that they wouldn't grow translucent silences between them, the kind of silences that wrapped around people and kept them alone, isolated, hurting, even if the most important person they knew was right there, at an arm's reach or closer.
He wasn't perfect about that promise; there were times when momentum brought him a step further in doing things than she was in the mood to deal with at that time. True, extremely rare; but there were times.
Even then, he didn't let go of the promise; for him, it was a way of life. She'd react, and when he registered he'd missed something, he'd gone over the top, he'd back down. Or move sideways. And watch and listen. Even if it happened to be just to hear her tell him that she was going back to the lab and she'd call him tomorrow, or something of the sort.
It was a promise that he didn't plan on seeing broken. Ever. No more than he wanted her heart broken, or his own.
*
Reid found his dad in the room that she'd used as her office, in the Garwin residence. Sitting on one of the chairs by the wall, elbows on his knees, fingers twined over his forehead. He didn't look up when the younger man shuffled by, nor when he returned, with the glass of whiskey that he knew would be the next thing.
The sound of the gravel crunching under the tires as Meredith had driven away was echoing around the both of them; neither doubted that the other could hear it, too.
When the glass clinked against wood, Joseph started, and looked up. His eyes were dry. Too dry, like it hurt to have them open.
"She's not such a bad person..."
"Dad. Don't start trying to justify her or whatever. She knew. And she let it keep on happening. For years. That's not the worst, but it's pretty much out there."
The older man shook his head. "You don't understand." But he didn't explain. Didn't even attempt to.
"Yeah... I do, actually. But you rather stay stuck in the silence. So many years, didn't it grate? Did you even see what kind of person she'd become?"
Joseph started at his son, the blue eyes steady, burning, on him in return. For way too long. Then his mouth slowly worked, before the voice came back. Crackling a little, chipping off, at the edges. "I don't know."
It got Reid, in turn, to flinch, and dig his nails into his palms. "I'm sorry, dad."
"It's not something... no, you only did what you knew to be right."
The younger man shook his head, suddenly throat too tight to answer that. He'd promised himself. He didn't even recall the day; he'd been... six, maybe, or seven. Something like that. He'd promised himself that he'd get his parents to see and hear each other. And now that the divorce was in effect, the weight of that promise suddenly hunched his shoulders. After a small pause, he got out, "we should have been able to fix things. If you'd ... if you'd both only listened. Back when I was little..."
"Children aren't supposed to fix the life of adults, Reid."
"No, I mean... if you'd just listened to each other. It probably wouldn't have gotten this bad."
"Maybe." Now his father reached for the whiskey, the liquid burning enough to make him cough. "Go home, son. There's nothing left to fix, here."
"Dad..."
"I'll be alright."
He didn't leave immediately. Of course. Cooked, set things up... just made sure his father knew he wasn't left alone, not really.
Even with the intervening time, and not-fights, and snarled words, neither of them knew how to deal with the mess of shattered, scattered promises that what should have been their home now seemed buried knee-deep in.
*