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Fiction: Trust part 3
Name: Trust part 3
Rating: R for violence and strong language
Sweet Charity Auction fic for Perdiccas who wanted: ‘a gen-ish fic that focuses on Matt and Audrey working a case together. The main theme is that it's early days of them as partners and despite everything with Molly, Audrey's still not sure she really believes Matt's whole telepathy thing. Whatever happens on this case is the turning point where she realises she can trust him.’
Part Three
It’s late when Campbell finishes listing all the places they’ve been, the things they’ve stolen, and the people they’ve killed.
He’s a lot fuzzier on the last one. Not embarrassed or ashamed just... less interested.
We pick up fried chicken and a lot more beer on the way to the motel. It’s been a long day and getting drunk is far more important than eating right now.
“Your room tonight,” I say.
Parkman looks at me blearily. “I’m going to have a shower.”
“Don’t care, walk around stark naked if you must, but I’m not sleeping in a room stinking of fried chicken as well as pizza.”
His room is identical to mine except he’s hung up his clothes in the microscopic wardrobe. I drop onto the bed and open a beer as he tears off his clothes and climbs into the shower.
I’m halfway through my second beer when he pads out in nothing but a towel.
“Does it feel different?” I ask.
He looks at me blankly. “The shower?”
“Campbell’s mind. The kid is a clinical psycho right? Do his thoughts feel different?”
Parkman shrugs and drops the towel. “Only in the same way that he speaks differently.”
“Holy shit Parkman, you’re hung like a horse.”
He scowls at me and pulls on a pair of boxers. “How much beer have you had?”
“Not so much I can’t see you got a third damn leg.”
“I love the way you say that as if my own dick might have somehow escaped my attention,” he says, pulling on sweatpants and a t-shirt.
“It’s not like tits, those are pretty much on display whether a woman likes it or not,” I argue.
“That didn’t even make sense,” Parkman says, sitting down and helping himself to a piece of chicken. “Are you aiming to get hammered tonight?”
“Yes.”
“Fair enough then, but at least eat something.”
I lie down on the bed and kick off my shoes. “Did your dad really leave?”
“Sure, when I was thirteen,” he says, leaning back against the wall.
“Why?”
“How would I know?” he asks, looking confused. “Yours didn’t. He was what, FBI? Police? Oh wait, armed forces right?”
I take a piece of chicken and bite off a small piece. “You going to psychoanalyse me Parkman?”
“Daddy wanted a little boy to play football with and baseball and follow in his footsteps and instead he got you,” Parkman suggests. “Am I right?”
“Fucking parents,” I mutter.
“They fuck you up, your mum and dad,” he says in a sing-song voice. “They may not mean to, but they do. They fill you with the faults they had. And add some extra, just for you.” He meets my eyes and shrugs. “It’s a poem.”
“Thought poetry was all people going on about flowers and soppy women they’re in love with.”
“Dunno, it’s not really my thing.” He takes a gulp of beer. “Mohinder leant me a book of... I can’t remember the words. But the idea was it was poetry for working class joes like me: football and beer and crappy parents.”
“What’s the point of lending you a book?” I ask, far more harshly than I meant.
“Well I...” Parkman shrugs. “He doesn’t know I’m dyslexic.”
I check my watch and almost spill beer on the bed.
“Dozy,” Parkman laughs.
“He should be ringing soon. Checking the ‘calibration’ is right,” I suggest.
“Nah,” Parkman says quietly. “Look Audrey I don’t know what you keep getting at but...”
His cell rings and I snigger into my beer.
“Parkman?” he says, stubbornly not moving from his seat. “Um, hi Mohinder.”
“Hi Mohinder!” I bellow.
Parkman flushes bright red. “It’s Audrey, she’s a little drunk... No, we’re at the motel... Her room smells of pizza... We had kind of a rough day and Audrey is dealing in traditional fashion by getting hammered... Oh, did they? No, no... Not really, not really hurt.”
“He was microwaved!” I yell.
Parkman glares at me. “No, just a little bit... I’m fine and as far as I know the locator is working fine. So, so there you go... Everything is fine... We arrested Sylar’s accomplice but we’re still looking for Sylar... Okay, okay, bye.”
“Shit Parkman, you are such a fucking retard.”
“I don’t like that word,” he says coldly, pulling his phone away and getting another piece of chicken.
“What was his excuse for ringing this time?” I ask. “Why does he even need an excuse?”
“He doesn’t,” Parkman says stiffly. “But now with all your yelling and carrying on you’ve probably made him uncomfortable and he won’t again. Thanks a bunch.”
I finish off my beer and reach for another. “What is your problem? You like him, he likes you.”
“No he doesn’t,” Parkman says softly, looking at me like... I don’t know, like he’s telling me there’s no Santa Claus. “Not like that.”
“Parkman...”
“Audrey,” he says, interrupting me. “I’m sure... I’m sure you mean well, but how do you think this is going to help? Really? Telling people to hope for things they’re never, ever in a million years going to achieve isn’t some sort of kindness. It’s not... inspiration, it’s just cruel.”
“He’s not into guys?” I ask confused. “I definitely got a vibe from him.”
“He’s not into me,” he corrects me. “You’ve seen him. If you think he would ever be interested in me then you’re either deluded or really, really confused.”
“What... because he’s so pretty?” I ask. “Just ask him out! What do you have to lose?”
“I’m a thirty-eight year old man with a stupid schoolboy crush and it hurts, Audrey,” he says looking away. “It fucking hurts.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I really feel for that kid you know,” he says quietly. “Psycho or not I really feel for him because he just wants... he doesn’t want to be alone. I don’t want to be alone. And I am.” He scrubs a hand across his eyes. “I don’t want much. He doesn’t want much. Someone to be there, to listen, to be on my side.”
I sit next to him and squeeze his hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t...”
“You don’t get it,” he says quietly. “I understand that you don’t get it. Because you’re not like me. You make all these walls to stop people getting close. The idea of letting someone in scares the shit out of you doesn’t it?” He takes a swig of his beer. “That’s all I want. I don’t expect everyone to like me, Audrey. I just... I have all this stuff here,” he says, thumping his chest. “And it hurts. I can’t let it out and it just hurts so much.”
He starts to cry softly, beer can dropping from his fingers. I grab it and put it on the bedside cabinet and then pull his head onto my shoulder.
“Hey, Audrey wake up,” Parkman says quietly, shaking my shoulder. “Come on, it’s morning, we have to get going.”
He hands me a glass of water and some painkillers when I open my eyes and sits up.
“How’re you feeling this morning?” I ask.
“Isn’t that my line?” he asks with a smile. “You drank far more than I did.”
He doesn’t want to talk about it.
“You were hardly sober. What time is it?” I throw back the painkillers and gulp down water.
“A little after seven. We can get some breakfast and then into the regional office I thought? With any luck they will have had some sightings of Sylar reported.”
“Easy tiger, who’s the agent around here?” I ask.
Parkman shrugs easily. “Sorry boss, whatever you say. Can you get back to your own room or do you need to be carried?”
“Asshole.”
I still feel horrible by the time we’re at the diner. Parkman’s chattering away through his deliberately provocative steak and eggs. Too much chatter; unnatural, nervous chatter, please-god-let-her-not-mention-last-night chatter. He’d probably be less disturbed if we’d just slept together.
“You were right,” I say, cutting into his monologue about the way he likes his steak. “Last night, you were right.”
His eyes widen so much it’s almost funny. “What?” he asks.
“Last night, when you said I’m scared of letting someone get close to me, you were right,” I choke the words out. “I don’t trust people.”
“Audrey,” he says, squirming in his seat. “We don’t have to talk about this.”
“I want to.”
“Liar,” he tries to make it a joke.
“I need to be able to trust you, Parkman. Matt. We’re partners, we have to be able to trust each other,” I say quietly.
“That doesn’t mean we have to talk about... this stuff,” he says.
“But it should mean we can,” I say.
Matt chews his lower lip and glances away. “I’m embarrassed.”
“I know but I wasn’t trying to embarrass you.”
“No, about last night,” he says eventually. “You think I’m some... what, new age touchy-feely guy? Because compared to you everyone is. But I don’t... I don’t talk about that stuff. Not to anyone. Guys don’t.” He smiles slightly. “Even though I did feel better, still feel better, for talking about it.”
“That’s probably why guys like beer so much then,” I say tartly.
“Probably,” he agrees. His fingers drum on the table as we sit and watch each other.
“I don’t get why you’d want to risk getting hurt again the way Janice hurt you,” I say at last.
Matt shrugs. “I’m not you,” he says simply. “I had ten great years with Janice. An ugly divorce doesn’t erase that. I’m not... a lone wolf. It’s my nature to want to be with someone.”
“But surely it’s not worth risking that kind of pain and misery?”
He looks at me. “Because I’m so happy now?” he asks quietly. “I wouldn’t go running into something even if it was an option. But I don’t like being single. I never liked it. I’m not saying it’s right or wrong, it’s just the way I am.”
“I like sex,” I say honestly, and he nearly chokes on his coffee. “But relationships... tried ‘em, not for me.”
“Well it’s the twenty-first century, you can have sex without relationships if that’s what suits you.” He smiles wryly. “And people have been having relationships without sex for thousands of years.”
“Do you think Sylar will really come back for Campbell?”
Matt takes a sip of coffee and rolls it around his mouth. “He shouldn’t. It makes no sense that he would. But it makes no sense him keeping the kid alive and he’s certainly done that. Maybe even serial killers sometimes need someone to talk to.”
“You’ve been watching that ‘Dexter’ show again, haven’t you?”
He grins at me.
Matt’s flipping through reported sightings of Sylar. Rubbish mostly but it’s worth it if even one pans out. ‘Pans out’, wonder where that comes from; gold prospectors maybe? I wander down to see them getting ready to move Campbell. He’s in a state, crying, begging, calling for Sylar.
“Try his real name,” someone suggests.
“What?”
“His name’s not really ‘Sylar,’ it’s Gabriel Grey,” some charmer says, grinning at him. “Your soul mate didn’t tell you that huh?”
The lights go out.
“He’s here!” Campbell crows. “I told you!”
I get out my piece and flip off the safety. It’s too quiet in the rest of the office.
“You stay with him,” I order the agents. “I’ll assess the situation.”
No sounds of movement. None of the cursing or laughing I’d expect in a blackout; nobody looking for candles or flashlights. I creep up the stairs, nearly fall back down them again, and along the corridor to the main office. The door opens suddenly in a blaze of light.
“Hello Agent Hanson,” Sylar says.
Hurts, pain, blood pounding in my ears. Movement, being carried, over a shoulder.
“Did he hurt you?” Sylar asks.
“No.” Campbell’s voice, adoring and soft. “Could I... could I play with him?”
“You’ve got a gun, or...”
“Not like that,” Campbell wheedles.
“Ohh,” Sylar says, and laughs. “Oh you like him. Of course you can play with him. Let me put Agent Hanson in the van and I’ll come back for him.”
More movement and then I’m falling, crash onto a hard metal floor.
“Why Agent Hanson,” Sylar says cheerfully. “I had no idea you were awake. What a quiet little mouse you are.” He smiles at me and then I see the taser coming toward me.
“Talk to me.” Campbell’s voice, whining and insistent. “Come on.”
I’m in a dark room, one door, boarded up windows. Campbell’s behind me somewhere. I’m in a chair, hands cuffed to the arms, ankles cuffed to the legs. I lean back and realise something, someone is behind me.
“About what?” Matt’s voice asks. He’s behind me too, must be trussed up like me. His voice sounds odd, low and congested.
“Tell me I’m special.”
There’s an unpleasant wet noise and Matt pushes his back against mine.
“Please don’t do that,” Matt asks far too calmly.
“Tell me I’m special!”
“You’re special,” Matt says robotically. “Please don’t...” he makes a tiny sound of distress.
“Hey!” I shout, wrenching my chair. “Hey, shit for brains!”
“Tell her to shut up,” Campbell orders, and giggles.
“Please... please...”
“Tell her to shut up!”
“Shut up Audrey,” Matt says flatly.
“No, no, no, I’m not shutting up until you stop doing whatever it is that you’re doing to him.”
“What is she, your chaperone?” Campbell complains.
“What’re you doing back there?”
Matt gasps for breath.
“That’s it,” Campbell urges. “Oh yeah.”
“Let him go!”
Matt groans and then Campbell crows.
“Let him go, you little fucking psycho!” I scream.
The door opens and Sylar walks in carrying a tray of medical supplies.
“Dear me Agent Hanson, such language and in front of a minor too. Luke, aren’t you a little old for sitting on Detective Parkman’s lap?”
“He doesn’t mind,” Campbell says sulkily.
“What’re those for?” I ask, staring at the scalpel, gauze, and other equipment.
“Oh don’t concern yourself too much,” Sylar says, putting the tray down on a small table. “These are for Detective Parkman. I’m afraid we have to get rid of that pesky location tracker before someone realises you two aren’t buried in the rubble with the rest of them. Are you enjoying your present, Luke?”
“Yes, we’re having fun,” Campbell says behind me and there’s a soft, slightly wet sound and he sighs.
“What do you say?” Sylar prompts.
Campbell walks past me, smirking as I try to kick out, punch, anything. He reaches up on his tiptoes to kiss Sylar on the mouth. Sylar’s hand comes around to rest on Campbell’s back.
“Thank you, Sylar.”
“Let him go,” I say. “If you’re pissed off at me Sylar, fine, kill me. But he’s done nothing to you.”
“He tried to shoot me.” Sylar lets go of Campbell, pulls on a pair of gloves, and walks around behind me. “Twice, in fact.” There’s a noise like fabric shredding and then a bottle of medicinal alcohol, some pads, and a scalpel fly past me.
“He was defending a child!” I catch Campbell’s eye. “Your boyfriend was going after a ten year old kid, did he tell you that?”
Campbell just shrugs.
Behind me Matt hisses in pain.
“You’re not going to kill him are you?” Campbell asks anxiously. “I’m not done playing.”
“No, I’m not going to kill him,” Sylar says, sounding distracted. “I want his power and you always play to destruction anyway so there scarcely seems any point.”
“Good.”
“There we are,” Sylar says cheerfully. A bloody scalpel, gauze, and a small lump of metal pass me and land on the tray. A roll of thread and a needle go in the other direction.
“Matt, can you hear me?” I call. “Are you okay?”
Campbell hits me suddenly, right across the face. “Shut up! You talk too much.”
“Hit me again kid, and I will rip off your nuts and shove them down your throat even if it takes me a hundred years to do it,” I growl.
“There we are, all done,” Sylar says, carrying the last of his equipment over to the table. His gloves are bright with Matt’s blood. He peels them off so the blood is on the inside and throws them away. He smiles at Campbell and puts a hand to his cheek. “Now, what are you going to do to thank me for fixing your present?”
Campbell giggles and blushes, taking Sylar’s hand and tugging out of the door. It slams shut behind them.
Are they gone?
“Fuck! Matt, you scared the shit out of me! Have you been awake all this time?”
“Are they gone?” he asks insistently.
“Yeah, gone to... I don’t even want to think about it,” I say.
There’s a bright metallic jingle of sound behind me.
“What’s that?”
“I snagged Campbell’s keys from his pocket,” Matt says, breathing hard.
“What?” I hiss. “Get us out of here!”
“I’m trying!”
There are long moments filled with his laboured breathing and painful noises as he has to contort himself to reach. Then he lets out a sigh.
“One hand free. The rest should be faster.”
I tip back my head, eyes closed. “I hope Sylar doesn’t have a premature ejaculation problem, that’s all.”
“Thanks for that image.”
Seconds drag by and I hear him hunting through the keys. He finally unlocks the other cuffs and stands up. He staggers around to me; he’s ruffled and his left sleeve is torn and blood soaked.
“How badly hurt are you?” I ask as he crashes to his knees and starts trying keys in the cuffs.
“Not that badly,” he says shortly.
“Can you climb?”
“If it’ll get us out of here I can rapel. Fuck! Why can’t I find this key?”
In my imagination I can see Sylar dressing.
“Matt, Matt look at those keys. Look at them, house keys, car keys, there are four handcuff keys and those were for yours. Sylar must have the keys for mine.”
He hesitates and starts trying again.
“Matt!” I snap, kicking at him. The top of my shoe barely grazes his knee but he looks at me.
“What?”
“Don’t be an idiot,” I say coolly. “Go and get help. Don’t give me the ‘I’m not leaving you’ bullshit speech, it’ll just take time we don’t have. Get going. NOW! That’s an order!”
“You can’t give me orders, Audrey,” he says but he gets to his feet. “I’ll be right back.”
“I know. Go on, get.”
He takes a deep breath.
“NO!” I say sharply. “For fuck’s sake not the deep and meaningful speech. This isn’t a movie, just run.”
He nods, limps over to the boarded windows and pries one free.
A door slams somewhere nearby. Matt gives me a frantic, apologetic look and forces himself out through the window.
I wait. It’s less time than I expected, barely two minutes, and the door opens.
“Where is he?” Sylar bellows. Next to him Campbell bursts into noisy tears. Sylar waves a hand and all the boards are wrenched off the windows. “Get him! Go!”
Campbell stumbles forward, clumsily climbs through a window and lurches off.
“How did he get out?” Sylar demands, towering over me.
“Your boy, Luke,” I say as casually as I can.
“No, Luke wouldn’t have let him go.”
“Not on purpose,” I agree. “But he sat on Matt’s lap to do... whatever and he had his keys in his pocket. All Matt had to do was take them out.”
Sylar’s face twists up. “That’s why you’re still here, because I’ve got your keys. Nice partner you have there, Agent Hanson, running off the first chance he got.”
I shrug. “You took out the tracker, if he keeps his head down he’ll be able to stay out of the facility.”
Sylar stares at me and slowly shakes his head. “I don’t believe that and neither do you.”
“Believe what you like.”
He turns and paces the room. “This is taking too long. Luke should’ve come back by now.”
“Maybe Parkman made him a better offer,” I say.
“Shut up!” he roars. “Luke wouldn’t do that.”
“He’s seventeen, Sylar,” I say. “Shallow, easily led, fickle. He asked you for Parkman because he was licking Parkman’s boots in the interrogation.”
He shakes his head.
“He told us everything,” I press. “You met in a diner. He was melting napkin holders. You let him play with some of your victims, the ones he takes a shine to, or he whines and whines for hours. The first person you killed together was Steven Rylands.”
“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” he wrenches the chair up telekinetically and punches me in the face.
Screaming, explosions, someone crying. Bright, bright light that burns my eyes.
“Ms Hanson?”
“Get that fucking light out of my eyes,” I whine, trying to slap it away.
“She certainly sounds like herself,” Matt’s voice says wryly.
The whiteness recedes and I squint around. I’m in a hospital room, hospital bed, Matt’s in the bed opposite. The idiot with the penlight makes a note on his clipboard and wanders off.
“Asswipe!” I mutter when he’s out of hearing.
“You okay?” Matt asks, sounding amused. His arm is in a sling and his leg is elevated.
“I feel like the house fell on me.”
“It did, more or less,” he says sounding surprisingly chipper. “I got about five hundred yards and almost fell over the retrieval team. Sylar’s timing was off, they didn’t get the house but they got the street. They took Campbell down with a dart to the neck.”
“Sylar? Tell me they got Sylar,” I ask.
“He was going nuts, firing nuclear blasts out of the windows and screaming for Campbell. Stupid ass started firing inside the house and took out a load bearing wall.” Matt shuffles his weight. “That meant the Haitian could get close enough to shut him down and they dug you out.”
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“Can’t really complain,” he says wryly.
I blow out my cheeks. “Is that it then? Bad guys all caught?”
“Those two,” Matt says. “There’s still the all the others to go.”
The End
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And hilarious to probably only me but just last night my husband and I were expressing a wish for Clea DuVall to be brought back to the show.
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I love Audrey, I really wish they'd brought her back. She would've fit in perfectly especially with the whole fugitives thing. Audrey working in Danko's team and secretly helping them maybe. :( Missed opportunities.
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Matt parading around the motel room bare-assed. "Matt being hung like a horse" Shwing!
Funny stuff but then a few lines later you feel like crying.
You even pegged the underlying relationship between Luke and Syler.
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I am heartily of the opinion that Matt is in proportion: *nods firmly*.
Luke and Sylar were actually way more fun to write than I expected. I was really nervous especially of writing Luke but it seems to have gone okay.
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This story was great. :D
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I really loved your psychotic Luke, like really loved him and the moments had with him and Sylar.
Great job! =D
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I've never written Luke before but I think it worked okay :)
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Oh, psycho Luke! Possessive Sylar! Bitchy Audrey!
This was several levels of awesome! Audrey and Matt’s banter was FTW and I have a huge weakness for Audrey and Sylar confronting each other, so that was greatness.
♥!
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It's not a fic for Perdi without a PE reference! xD
Damn, this was really really good. ♥ You write Audrey so well, and I love everything about how you write Matt in just about everything you've ever written about him. ♥
All the banter about Matt being "one of them" and Audrey being "one of us", and the back-and-forth about who's more visible as being an outsider... and, dude, Audrey flipping out over Matt's equipment, LOLx100338402!
Luke getting off on being interrogated was both disturbing and very in-character... he does love getting shoved around. And his blind faith in Sylar, and Sylar's complete rage at losing Luke... you pinned them down really well.
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Perdi is awesome to write before because all you have to do is read her LJ for her kinks, hah!
I love writing Audrey but I don't tend to think of it unless someone suggests it. Sorry Audrey :(
Thanks so much for reading and commenting <333
Still loving it, loving it, loving it
He’s a lot fuzzier on the last one. Not embarrassed or ashamed just... less interested
I love this insight; that Luke doesn't care so much about the murder aspect, but he'll brag about the rest.
“Campbell’s mind. The kid is a clinical psycho right? Do his thoughts feel different?”
Parkman shrugs and drops the towel. “Only in the same way that he speaks differently.”
I'd never thought about it, but I think I would have made the assumption as Audrey, that psychos would think in psycho. Kind of chilling to think that in their own minds they come accross as normal.
“Holy shit Parkman, you’re hung like a horse.”
BWAHAHAHAH! BIG DICKS FTMFW!
“Parkman?” he says, stubbornly not moving from his seat. “Um, hi Mohinder.”
“Hi Mohinder!” I bellow.
Oh Christ, drunk Audrey = drunk me. I can't count the number of times I've done something like this. SORRY EVERYONE WHO I'VE EMBARRASSED WITH MY INTOXICATION!
“I really feel for that kid you know,” he says quietly. “Psycho or not I really feel for him because he just wants... he doesn’t want to be alone. I don’t want to be alone. And I am.”
Awwwwwwwwwwwwwww! I admit, I cried a little. ): I feel so bad for both of them. And it was just the perfect picth of melocholy with the drunkeness and whatnot. {{{Matt}}}
I wander down to see them getting ready to move Campbell. He’s in a state, crying, begging, calling for Sylar.
“Try his real name,” someone suggests.
“What?”
“His name’s not really ‘Sylar,’ it’s Gabriel Grey,” some charmer says, grinning at him. “Your soul mate didn’t tell you that huh?”
Oooo! This is so harsh! Talk about hitting below the belt. I'm glad Sylar chose that moment to make his grand entrance.
Hurts, pain, blood pounding in my ears. Movement, being carried, over a shoulder.
Sylar really likes to pick people up, doesn't he? I always wondered why (other than to set my pants on fire with the hotness) he actually carried Luke instead of tk'ing him out the van. Maybe he just gets a kick outta being all caveman about it. :P
“Tell me I’m special.”
There’s an unpleasant wet noise and Matt pushes his back against mine.
“Please don’t do that,” Matt asks far too calmly.
OKay, I've been trying to work out what Luke's doing to him but I don't wanna say where my mind went for fear of interpreting it far more perverse than you were intending... kisses? Or something else...?
Luke, aren’t you a little old for sitting on Detective Parkman’s lap?
I could so picture Sylar saying something like that!
I snagged Campbell’s keys from his pocket
I think I RL clapped my hands! GO MATT!
“Don’t be an idiot,” I say coolly. “Go and get help. Don’t give me the ‘I’m not leaving you’ bullshit speech, it’ll just take time we don’t have. Get going. NOW! That’s an order!”
LOVE LOVE LOVE! Ah, it's so nice to see someone actually follow their trianing and act sensibly instead of doing the "heroic" (ie stupid) thing for once! <3
This is taking too long. Luke should’ve come back by now.”
“Maybe Parkman made him a better offer,” I say.
“Shut up!” he roars. “Luke wouldn’t do that.
I love how this parallels how the got Luke to break in custody; that Sylar's just as sensitive to the idea of being abandoned by Luke as Luke was to the idea that Sylar had abandoned him. A++++++++
“Those two,” Matt says. “There’s still the all the others to go.”
Perfect ending! I love that this wasn't a one off case, now they're partners for real and with a win like bringing in Sylar & his boytoy, Matt's totally gonna be free from the facility for a long time!
Aces from begining to end. Thank you!! <3
Re: Still loving it, loving it, loving it
I think probably the difference is that psycho's follow through on all the terrible things that rest of us only think about. Evil men do the things that good men only dream of and all that :)
Oh Christ, drunk Audrey = drunk me. I can't count the number of times I've done something like this. SORRY EVERYONE WHO I'VE EMBARRASSED WITH MY INTOXICATION!
HA! You're my sister :D Srsly, her drunk and me sober is a painful combination.
Awwwwwwwwwwwwwww! I admit, I cried a little. ): I feel so bad for both of them. And it was just the perfect picth of melocholy with the drunkeness and whatnot. {{{Matt}}}
I feel a little better now because I making myself sniffle when I was writing it :)
Sylar really likes to pick people up, doesn't he?
Yeah, for some reason that's the image I have of him, just totally manhandling people :P He seems quite a physical person, heh.
OKay, I've been trying to work out what Luke's doing to him but I don't wanna say where my mind went for fear of interpreting it far more perverse than you were intending... kisses? Or something else...?
Originally I wasn't as vague about what Luke was doing but I thought it would be fun for people to decide for themselves. Kisses if you like, more perverse if you like :D
(But originally Audrey heard a belt dropped on the floor and the sound of a zipper, so there you go).
LOVE LOVE LOVE! Ah, it's so nice to see someone actually follow their trianing and act sensibly instead of doing the "heroic" (ie stupid) thing for once! <3
One of my bugbears :P I'm often to be found shouting 'WHY ARE YOU BEING STUPID?' at the television, hehe.
I'm so pleased that you enjoyed it :D Thanks again for the prompt!
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“Holy shit Parkman, you’re hung like a horse.”=true fact
I loved that Matt sympathized with Luke. The scene in the motel where they were getting drunk, that hurt my heart a little. I just wanted to hug Matt and take him to bed. :P
And you wrote it so well and believable that I could see that exact scene happening in the show (well maybe not that exact scene but you know what I mean). Especially after last night’s episode, Grunny would totally act the shit out of it!!
Oh, and Matt tied up and Luke “playing” with him! And how we didn’t see what he was doing to him. Guuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!! After reading the story I went back and read that scene again….twice….please send help!!
Great story, and you wrote it for charity so ever more kudos to you!! <3
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I love me some Dexter :) Series 3 definitely back on track.
Especially after last night’s episode, Grunny would totally act the shit out of it!!
He really would, he's obviously got real chops for the emotional stuff :)
Oh, and Matt tied up and Luke “playing” with him! And how we didn’t see what he was doing to him. Guuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!! After reading the story I went back and read that scene again….twice….please send help!!
Bwahaha! My evil plan is successful :D
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What a treat! :)
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Much as I'm a slash Queen I have a total weakness for male/female teams where it's completely platonic, no simmering tension, no will they/won't they. Doctor and Donna in Doctor Who or I guess Peggy and Don in Mad Men. Plus when Perdi gave me the prompt she was clear about wanting any shippy stuff to be minimal at best which was absolutely A1 with me :D
Thanks for reading and commenting! <33