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At Bell-boy's nudges, Daniel reluctantly stumbled out of the way, releasing the toothbrush to spit minty froth in the sink. He listlessly watched Bell-boy go about washing up a little, but honestly? After yesterday's simmering in the van's heat, getting soaked with blood and guts and having been to a Mexican place, they honestly needed a bit more than water. Daniel chuckled at Bell-boy's unruly hair and came to rest against the wall.
He felt light-headed, probably because of a lack of food. And maybe because he was still a little drunk.
"Not really," Daniel managed to utter, and started kicking off his shoes. Socks soon followed. Daniel made a pile of clothes and then started on Bellwether's.
"You'll feel better if you do," he offered up as argument.
He kept behind Bellwether, slowly peeling off and unbuttoning clothes. When most of the things could easily be stepped out of, Daniel turned around and fiddled with the shower. Soon enough they had hot water going.
Daniel stepped underneath the stream and tipped his head back, breathing hard. The hot spray worked muscles in his back he hadn't known were sore. Everything was sore, honestly.
Especially his stomach.
He didn't feel sick as much though. Just abused.
Daniel slowly slid down the wall to sit. Hey soap.
"C'mon, Bell-boy, need you to do soap," Daniel whined.
Actually, knowing they'd be holed up in the van made Daniel slow his pace considerably. He'd greatly prefer a cold shower over a stuffy van any day. Daniel tried to cup some water and took small sips. His stomach complained, but then unclenched a little.
"Or I'll do soap, just c'mere," he offered another incentive for Bell-boy to join him. Daniel started working on his hair, lathering up. Even though they were his own fingers, it still felt good. Relieved the headache a little.
Maybe they'd be able to sleep through the ride. That'd put a quick and painless end to the animosity between Damien and Bell-boy. Or the bullying would get worse. Richard sure as hell wasn't pleased with either of them right now. Not that Daniel thought his actions were in any case meaningful to the hybrids.
Drunk? Hotel? Lifeguard...? Oh. Right. He nodded. He knew where he was. He knew what was going on. That was Daniel, this was...these were the hybrids. He'd be doing great, if there weren't still three guns pointed at his head.
The arm was removed from his throat. Bell took a deep breath and backed away, coughing. He rubbed his face and slumped against the wall, glaring tiredly at the other two. Jim put his gun down first, then Damien, much more reluctant about lowering his gun. He made a bitter face, as though his favorite toy had just been taken away. Bell rolled his eyes and shuffled past him to the bathroom, nudging Daniel out of the way to splash his face and drink from the tap. Get washed up, was it? He could do that.
Maybe. The bathroom lights were binding. They felt like they were stabbing into his brain, little deadly laser beams. He staggered, then caught himself against the counter. Fuck. Maybe they had gotten too drunk last night.
Looked like it, anyways. Eyes sunken, skin pale and dull, hair a mess. His shirt was torn and stained--though admittedly that was before they'd started drinking. Half of his hair was sticking straight up from where it'd been staticked by the carpet. He flattened it as best he could, sticking some down with water; there was actually a complimentary comb, and he tugged it through his hair. It got stuck, and he gave up and threw it down. Fuck this.
Richard must have already washed up, because he went into the other room with the rest of the hybrids. Bell glanced at Daniel. "You feel up to showering?" he asked tiredly. He didn't really. He knew he should. He reeked--they both reeked. But he didn't feel up to it. He didn't feel up to anything. He sighed and ran his hands through his hair again, leaning on the counter. He felt worked over. Exhausted. Drinking hadn't been the brightest thing they'd done. Agnew would probably be pissed--the only good thing to come of it, really. He snorted at himself and shook his head. At least he didn't mind missing breakfast.
Daniel cracked open a set of dry eyes and blinked at the blurry image of a white pillow. He managed to pull his head up and away from the stain of drool soaking into the pillow and blink at the man ushering someone up. Up? Someone?
The dots connected slowly.
Daniel groaned as his stomach was more sore than anything.
The growl made Daniel perk up a little more and he sat up slowly.
"--the fuck?" he groused out. Damien didn't hesitate and drew his gun, Richard had his arm to Bellwether's throat and Jim rushed back into the other room to arm himself.
"Wow, wow, stop, what the actual fuck?" Daniel started, clambering out of bed, fighting the blankets and pillow all the way. They ended up pulled onto the floor.
"Bell-boy, we're at the hotel, just killed lifeguard-goat, these're watcher-goat's hybrid peoples, remember?" Daniel started as he finally kicked the last of the blankets free and approached Richard, not caring for whether or not he was in Damien or Jim's line of fire one bit.
"We just got a little drunk," Daniel explained further and sighed. He put a hand to his stomach and the other to Richard's arm.
"...a little too drunk," he said, semi-apologetic.
"Relax," Daniel instructed, more so to Richard than anyone else. Cornering Bellwether was never a good idea.
"He's not as unstable as you fuckers, goat won't come out at every beck and call," he groused. Richard was hesitant, but he slowly let go, trusting Damien and Jim to have his back apparently.
Damien and Jim shared a confused look. 'Goat'?
"Give the man some space," Daniel admonished and shuffled towards the bathroom. His mouth felt like it'd been stuffed with a dead rat. He rummaged around the bathroom's tiny closet in search of aspirin, but they only had complimentary toothbrushes. Those were kind of nice, actually. Daniel took one and started to brush his tongue to get rid of the foul taste.
Jim was the first to lower his gun. He shrugged at Richard.
"What, are we shooting our own now?" he said. It was obvious the man was tiring of having to be on guard amongst people that were supposed to be working on the same side.
Richard gave Bellwether a hard look.
"Get washed up, we're leaving," he commanded.
"Does it matter?" she asked.
Bell glanced back. She was standing there, hands tucked behind her, leaning slightly forward. She smiled at him, gently. "Does it matter?"
"Bell!" Landon shouted.
"Don't listen to him!" Daniel snapped.
"They're the same person," Bell said. "I can't choose."
"Because you don't love him," she said. "Because you don't love either of them like you loved me." She wrapped her arms around him from behind and squeezed gently.
"No," he said, shaking his head. "No, I--never, I wouldn't--"
"I know," she said, squeezing tighter around his neck. He couldn't breathe. He clutched at her and tried to pull her arms away. It was impossible. He couldn't. He couldn't. Couldn't breathe--
"That's why I'll always be special," she hissed with a smile, and snapped his neck in two--
"Up," a gruff voice barked, rousing Bell from sleep. He sat up sharply, surprised and confused. His head hurt. His stomach felt like it had been stomped on. On the floor...? Why? Bell blinked around, disoriented. An older man was glaring down at him, a face he didn't recognize. He blinked, staggered back against the wall, and jumped upright. What had happened? Where was he? Who? He reached for his pipe, and the man shoved him against the wall, an arm to his throat, a gun shoved in his face. Bell gagged and clutched at the arm, struggling weakly, too disoriented to draw any strength.
"Stand down," the man growled. Rather than make him calm down, it made Bell struggle harder. Someone was lying in the bed. Mentally, he checked his body, trying to figure out how much he should be panicking. Head hurt, stomach hurt, ass felt fine. Then what...? What was...what had happened? Why was he here?
"What's going on?" another man demanded, and suddenly two more men raced into the room. One drew a gun; the other stared wide-eyed, then disappeared back into the room to return with a gun. Bell froze, hands going up slowly. What had he gotten himself into? What was happening? Where--what--?
Despite feeling like he'd head-butted a truck and lost the encounter, Daniel still had to chuckle at Bellwether's lack of coordination. The man floundered past him towards the toilet and went about some messy business. Vodka, probably. That drunk always made him lose coordination. Bell-boy was just a light-weight. Both Lenny and he knew it.
Daniel was actually surprised Bell-boy didn't defecate the toilet any further, since usually this whole business was reversed, with Bell-boy puking and him laughing. Reminded of his sore stomach, Daniel tried to shift his weight to another leg, but it helped little. Daniel hung his head, waving off Bell's pats.
He'd be fine.
Somehow. Hiccups were all that his stomach managed at the moment, with the occasional acid or bile he spat into the sink.
Bell-boy didn't even make it back to the bed, which made Daniel laugh. And hurt. Daniel groaned and held his stomach with one arm, clutching the tap with the other. Some night this turned out to be. He was simply exhausted still. Maybe drinking hadn't been the brightest idea. Especially since he'd barely been able to stomach any type of food all day.
Daniel wasn't quite sure how long he'd stood there like that, but the tremble in his legs alerted Daniel that it'd been too long. His stomach appeared to have calmed down, so now only the headache was left. And basically everything else that was sensitive.
He slowly stood, felt the world around him twist and churn again, but Daniel soldiered through, knowing there was little else to throw up anyway. Bell was curled up against the wall -whatever. Wasn't like Daniel could drag the man to bed alone as he was. It'd be fine. Bell-boy wouldn't suffer for having slept on carpet for a night. Might even make the guy feel good about sleeping in a cushy hotel again.
Daniel shuffled more so than walked back to the bed and carefully inched underneath the blankets, holding a pillow to his stomach. Better. Way better. And warm.
The warmth from the blankets and pillow spread swiftly. After a few minutes, Daniel was merrily dozing off again. Maybe he'd simply ignore tomorrow was a thing.
He was shifted in his sleep, and he frowned, then squeezed his eyes and woke up. He felt woozy, his head all stuffed up, like it was full of cotton. Landon was sitting on the edge of the bed. Not Landon, Daniel. Or was it? He furrowed his brows, confused. Someone. One of them. Did it really matter which?
It did. He had to choose.
No. He wiped his eyes, trying to wipe away the dream. No, they were fine. Everyone was safe. He didn't have to....
Pee, he really had to pee. The sound of water splashing didn't help, either. He groaned and sat up, slowly. Richard was sleeping quietly, gently snorting. Bell frowned. Wasn't fair. Shouldn't be only Richard sleeping nicely. Shouldn't...He had to pee.
Daniel retched, and Bell's stomach lurched, too. Ugh. Don't remind him. He pushed upright, took a step, and stumbled, falling heavily into Richard's bed bladder-first. Bell grimaced, pushed off, and fell back against it. Okay, since gravity was all going sideways, he'd just...use it as a crutch. The gap from bed to bathroom seemed an impossible chasm, but he managed to throw himself across. He pushed past Daniel to the toilet and made an attempt at aiming that went sideways when he fell against the wall. Most went in. Good enough.
Rather than puke, he just swallowed and forced it back. He couldn't afford to puke. Needed all the nutrients he could handle. Daniel was leaning against the sink, so he stayed against the wall. Backed up a step as gravity turned again. Swallowed. It was still dark. They needed to get back to bed.
He patted Daniel clumsily and made the attempt, trying not to use Richard's bed this time. His shoulder hit the wall, and he slid along it, keeping himself up through pure will. Gravity glued him to the wall, however. Pushing off it was hopeless. He looked at the bed wistfully, then gave up and sank down against the wall. He'd just sleep on the floor. It was a very soft floor. It wouldn't be so bad to sleep on. He curled up and closed his eyes, tired.
Confusion set the tone. Dizziness waved over him like an elephant on a stampede, pushing him back into the soft fabric Daniel's subconscious betrayed might be a bed. A comfortable one, at least. Another part was preoccupied with the dire need to pee, and a roiling stomach, threatening to clench.
Daniel swallowed down some acid.
Whatever they'd done, the night hadn't exactly passed them by yet. Daniel groaned at the dark and slowly pushed the weight from pinning him down. Bell-boy. Oh, right, they'd been all sappy about falling asleep, despite of Richard's presence. The hybrid snored softly, his breathing hitched, but then continued undisturbed.
Bell-boy however wasn't as calm. The man twitched and squirmed, facial expression troubled. Daniel rested on the edge of the bed and waited for the world to settle. He put one hand to Bell-boy's forehead, trying to smooth out the wrinkles.
"Shh, sleep," he instructed softly. Maybe Bell-boy's subconscious would heed the order. Not likely. Shit, he needed to piss though. Daniel got up and nearly fell over.
He caught the lamp he knocked from the cabinet from falling to its doom only barely. Clumsy hands pushed the thing back in place and Daniel weaved through the room in search of the bathroom.
He fumbled around for the lights and leaned sideways into a wall to get his aim steady. Most of it went into the toilet, so there. More acid threatened to burn the back of his throat. Daniel swallowed. Saliva. Yeah, he was going to puke no matter what, huh?
Rather than wait for his stomach to settle the matter in like an hour or less, Daniel pulled the trigger. Most of what came up was fluid. Still reeked of alcohol too.
Hardly any food. Daniel could tell what went wrong there last night.
Spitting at the puddle of semi-digested food and alcohol in the toilet, Daniel waited for his stomach to settle and flushed. He felt a little more relieved, and a whole lot more giddy for having done that.
Daniel ran the tap, splashing some water on his face and rinsing out the after-taste.
He wouldn't admit, but he kind of needed the stability of the bathroom-sink. Which meant that going back to bed would be an interesting quest to undertake.
"Mmm," he mumbled, half asleep. "'m not goin' anywhere." He wouldn't. He couldn't imagine being apart from Landon. Or Daniel, he supposed. Daniel, who was the flipside of the coin. Daniel, who was so warm underneath him, whose chest rose and fell softly, whose heartbeat sounded just like Landon's. They were touching now, weren't they? He nuzzled Daniel's chest and sighed out, content and tired, the hand gently stroking his hair easing him to sleep. It'd been a long day.
Richard came back, and Bell watched him blearily from atop Daniel, all three of him. The part of him that desperately hid his orientation screamed at him to climb off Daniel, but the rest of him reminded it that Richard knew already, and besides, he didn't want to move. He chuckled when Richard glared; couldn't do anything without getting glared at. What would his face have looked like if he'd come back to them fucking? Bell was curious, but not that curious. He was so comfy right here. And tired. His eyes drifted shut, and by the time Richard turned the lights out, he was gone.
"You have to kill it," Landon said, backing away. Bell turned. Daniel was there, a crazy look in his eye, clutching Landon's baseball bat tight. "It's a goat. A fake."
"He's the fake," Daniel snarled, thrusting the bat at Landon. Bell stepped back, pushing Landon behind him, and Daniel grimaced, pained. "Get away from him!"
"Kill it!" Landon said, clutching Bell's coat.
"Kill him!" Daniel replied, stepping closer.
Bell pulled his pipe out, but didn't know what to do. Who did he trust? Who did he believe? They weren't reacting. Neither of them were reacting. They couldn't both be humans, but he couldn't tell them apart. He couldn't tell them apart from goats, he couldn't tell which was the real Landon, the real Daniel. Bell gripped the pipe tighter and backed away from both, buying time. Which one? Which one did he sacrifice? Which one could he not live without? And what if he was wrong? What if he chose wrongly? He clenched his teeth, steadily backing away. It was an impossible decision. He couldn't. He couldn't. Not without one of them reacting, he couldn't--
After another few swigs, the alcohol stopped burning a hole in his stomach, but nestled in comfortably to create and exude a warm glow. Or maybe that was Bell-boy's body all but splayed across his now. Daniel smiled, endeared by the sight and content. Having Bell-boy this close, touching, was finally catering to the sick feeling of love he endured when they were apart.
"Scared of losing you," Daniel drawled drunkenly, half-lidded eyes watching the television. His hand still absent-mindedly brushed through Bellwether's hair.
"It'll hurt Lenny...sometimes, I jus' can't stand not touching you," he slurred.
The bed was comfortable. So was Bell-boy's heat. Daniel hadn't realized, but he'd been chilled in the van. Probably from not having slept enough. Rather than continue their game, Daniel clumsily extracted the bottle from Bell's grip, took a last sip and put the bottle on the floor. It'd been a long day; they were both done.
Daniel wrapped both arms around Bellwether and held the man tight for a second, heaving a love-sick sigh. Why did they have to love something so destructive?
Watching Bell-boy get hurt was literally gut-wrenching.
Richard returned at some point, raised an unimpressed eyebrow at the bottle of booze and the pair as they lay curled up and wordlessly prepared for bed. The door between the two rooms was set at a crack.
Daniel watched Richard until the man switched off the television and laid down. The lights went off not long after. He didn't care much for it. Daniel felt comfortable just holding Bell-boy for the time being.
They were the monsters; the hybrids. It was easy to see. The lightning trapped within the humans was far from perfect or nice. It'd end up being dangerous and contort their beings.
Daniel nuzzled Bell's hair and slowly drifted off.
At first the alcohol kept dreams at bay, but a few hours into the night Daniel dreamt of faces, symbols, or running away for small, misshapen goats, clinging to him as they wore Alice's face. Lily was there too, asking him whether or not he enjoyed having Alice back in his life. Bell was just angry, threatening to kill every single one of the small creatures. And then there were eyes. Black, goat-eyes, with no sparkle whatsoever to them.
A goat feeling regret about...leaving? It wasn't unexpected. If anything, it was surprisingly human of it. Maybe, same as some goats were close to one another, others were closer to human. Maybe that was why his goat hadn't seen any harm in letting it live.
It still would've killed people. Had killed people. It had been a danger, and so had its children been. He hadn't done anything wrong.
"Maybe not," he sighed. It felt nice, just lying here and letting Daniel pet his hair. They should do this more often, just cuddle with a bottle of liquor and a bad movie.
"Bet Damien's watching," Bell muttered, then shrugged. That sounded reasonable. And like the kind of thing they'd protest him and Daniel hearing. It was nice to not be glared at and watched over for a little while. Shots broke out on the television. "I know, I know," he said, then he groped back for the bottle and took a long, messy chug, wiped his mouth and handed it over to Daniel. "There," he declared.
It took him a little longer to reply to the other comment. He rolled over and looked at Daniel, propping his chin on the guy's chest. "You're...mmm, always so mean, though," he complained, closing his eyes for a second. There was something else, but....oh well. He patted Daniel's chest to drive his point home. "You're mean. To me."
Shots rattled off the screen behind him. "Shots, Danny, shots," he called, reaching over Daniel's body to grab the bottle. It seemed like too much trouble to pick it up, so he climbed over Daniel and put his mouth on it, then tipped it enough until he could drink and pushed it back at Daniel. He slid back down to his old spot slowly, pausing halfway there and just giving up. "Y're mean t'me," he mumbled, patting Daniel's chest more gently this time. He felt like he was floating a little. In a warm bath, maybe. Everything felt good and happy. He wasn't even really bothered about it, but he wanted an answer. "Why?" he asked, yawning. Felt kind of sleepy too. Warm and comfy and sleepy.
"Yeah, sometimes...things just go red," Daniel muttered, mesmerized by the rapid flickering by of the channels as Bell-boy sought a movie. Finally, he settled on an action movie. Daniel smirked, "just try to keep up," he mentioned. There'd be a lot of shooting. Daniel took a long swig, even as Bellwether reached out and touched his arm. It felt intimate, somehow. Calm. That anger he'd seen in Bellwether all day, focussed at Damien, had been pushed to the background.
This was nice.
"Yeah, regret," he chased, "'bout having to leave already," Daniel explained. Goats didn't really do death. It'd be back. Somehow or another. Another goat might have a successful next and it'd be reborn or copied, or whatever.
"It's not like...I don't think, it can blame us, you know?"
Since how else were they meant to get closer to watcher-goat? By infiltrating the facility and killing everything? That'd only be an option provided they knew where the base even was.
When Bell rested his head against his chest, Daniel's free hand found its way into Bell's hair, gently petting the man. Smelled like Bell. Smelled like home. Somewhere, Bell-boy had become home.
They passed the bottle as the film progressed.
Next door? Daniel chuckled. "Do we even wanna know?" he snorted.
"Meditating, I bet," Daniel supposed. "Or debriefing, or...maybe one's watching..." Bell's giggle was endearing and Daniel couldn't help the laughter than escaped him. It was the first genuine thing today.
"I don't...Probably contacting base, see if there's more or we can actually go back," Daniel said, more serious than he felt. Lying down like this, he didn't really feel as drunk, just drowsy. Bell-boy was remarkably warm.
He was drunk.
"Bell? 's no joke, prank or whatever...You 'nd me, Lenny may be paranoid, but I won't hurt you," Daniel slurred. The alcohol burned at his throat and innards. "Trust me, okay?" He pressed a kiss to the top of Bellwether's head. The movie was becoming a little blurry.
"Hey, they shot! Fired shots! Drink," Daniel exclaimed, reaching for the bottle.
"After we've started...?" Bell prompted. Now he was curious. He put the change away and took the bottle back, sitting down heavily beside Daniel.
Drinking game? They seemed to be doing fine without it. Well, it could be fun. "They usually have some for free..." Bell said, turning on the television. He flipped through the channels until he found one that looked right. Some kind of buddy cop film. Could be decent. "Drink when they shoot?" he suggested, as the screen lit up with gunfire. He took a sip, alcohol burning on the way down, then passed it off. It was pretty strong stuff, felt like fire in his gut. Wouldn't take long until he was woozy like Daniel was.
"Regret?" he mumbled, looking at the marks Daniel was displaying. It really hadn't gripped hard. He'd left worse bruises. He reached out and touched them, curious. They felt slightly warm, blood at the surface of his skin. He leaned down and kissed it, slightly distracted by bare skin, then sighed out and took another sip.
"We weren't supposed to kill it," he said, rolling the liquid in his mouth before he swallowed. It tasted appropriately bitter. "I don't think we were, anyways. Don't think we should bring the goat out for a while." He couldn't sense its mood, but it probably wasn't happy right now. It usually wasn't, when they did something it didn't want them to.
Bell sighed out and laid his head on Daniel's chest, listening to his heart beat and his lungs rasp. Gunfire rang out from the screen again, and he groped around for the bottle. He was starting to feel better about things, about the world in general, and another rush of liquid fire made him feel even better about it. Bell sighed again, adjusting his head on Daniel's ribs. "Mmm, Daniel," he said, and then he lost his train of thought. It took him a moment to pick it up again. "What do you think they're doing next door? I bet it's some kind of super freaky threesome," he said. "Imagine what that'd be like, being all connected in the head...You think they all get horny at the same time?" It seemed logical enough. And slightly dangerous. One person could sabotage the whole base like that. Be kind of funny. He giggled to himself, amused by the mental image.
"I don't know, Bell-boy, I don't usually have that urge," Daniel said as he tried making sense of the phone's numbers. Finally, some made sense and Daniel found out the three-digit number to get room-service.
"Sometimes though, but that's after we've started...hello, there doll," he switched channels. The young and impressionable girl on the other end of the line summed up some options and Daniel picked whatever seemed least likely to cause a hangover -distilled liquor; of course.
Forget, yeah. They were entitled to forget what had happened. It'd been one regular old shit-fest, to be fair. Killing those helpless, premature goatlings had felt more than wrong. At the same time, those were the goats whose killing saved human lives.
Not in the eyes of the goats however. Daniel dropped the phone when the tone remained even and rested against Bellwether's back. When the man shimmied from under him, Daniel took up a more comfortable position on the bed.
He felt too lazy to move another muscle.
Especially his arms and hands were sore, from bashing goat-heads in and writing weird symbols on tile floors. When Bell-boy offered up the bottle he took it and gestured the man put the change into his wallet. Wherever it'd gone to.
Back into his pocket?
The order of things had gotten messed up.
"Want to play a drinking game? We could pay for a movie, have a little 'drink when you see it'?" Daniel suggested with a lazy grin, tipping the bottle to take a good swig. The liquor burned on its way down, making Daniel hiss. His stomach was less than pleased with the offerings, but all was still well.
He was too drunk to really care at this point.
"You know lifeguard-goat? It sort of...said, showed, whatever," Daniel waved away the mechanics, "it told me....regret." If that was even the word for it. Daniel still sought for something to more aptly describe what had been imprinted on him, but it was difficult. Daniel raised his arm and pulled back his sleeve.
Red marks, but no bruises. Barely bruises, at least.
"It didn't really hurt me either. Wanted to run," but didn't every goat?
Daniel sat beside him and picked up the phone, squinting at it, then dropping it entirely. Room service might be a while coming. Bell smiled, amused, and patted his shoulder. Then Daniel fell against him, sliding his fingers through the holes in Bell's shirt. Bell let him. He'd gotten Landon's permission, there was no need to deny him anymore. So it was all in Landon's head, huh? The guy did like conspiracy theories. He wasn't sure he believed Daniel just shrugging it off like that. It was too smooth. Daniel was always the smooth one of the two of them. Still, his fingers felt nice. Bell shifted, reaching up instinctively and sliding a hand under Daniel's shirt, tracing the shape of his muscles languidly.
"Mmm, he just pisses me off," Bell said. It didn't feel like the goat. But what did that mean? It wasn't as though he always felt when the goat was controlling him or pushing him to act a certain way. "I wanna beat him up, but that's not unusual." He shrugged, rolling onto his stomach and crawling up the bed a little. Like wanting to fuck Daniel or Landon. It was a basic urge, that kind of thing. Sometimes he was horny, sometimes he was aggressive. "You know, sometimes you just see someone and you wanna beat them up, that's what it is."
Daniel leaned away and grabbed the phone, and Bell grinned. "Let's get the party started," he said, slapping what he could reach of Daniel's ass. Might as well have a little fun, since they were going to be chaperoned either way. "Make me forget about all this bad shit."
There was a lot of shit to forget. Insecurities were the least of it. The goat being one his goat hadn't wanted him to kill, the pathetic way the babies died, their stupid chaperones. Before long, someone knocked on the door, and Bell grabbed Daniel's cash to pay. A bottle was handed over. He worked on opening it as he walked back to the bed, took a swig from the bottle, and handed it and the change over to Daniel. It wasn't bad. Better than he'd been expecting.
Richard didn't deem Bellwether worthy of a reply, but Richard's curt head-shake clued away his disapproval. The hybrid-daddy was right; let Agnew pass judgement, let the 'monster' and its human pet behave stupidly so they'd be kicked out of the hunters' exclusive club. Or be re-purposed. Daniel didn't care much. If it was a fight Agnew wanted, she'd get more than she could handle.
At Bell's suggestion of room-service, Daniel stopped plodding towards the bed. He rummaged through his pockets instead, swaying whilst checking the contents of his wallet. There was still a little something in there from before. Maybe enough for one bottle of something or other. Daniel approached the bed, sat down next to Bell-boy and snatched up the phone. He squinted at the numbers.
Which was room-service?
Blood hell, couldn't they make the numbers bigger?
"What?" Daniel stammered, giving Bellwether a funny look. Insecure? What, Bell-boy? Then again, Daniel recalled the man's shy face.
It was cute.
"Lenny's all conspiracy theories," Daniel waved away Bellwether's concern. "You'd think something's not right in his head, schizophrenic maybe," he chuckled. That was the official diagnosis, wasn't it? Seeing things. Seeing Daniel and other ghosts.
Rather than try to make sense of the numbers, Daniel let himself slide sideways and abused Bell's chest as a pillow. It was warm and comfortable. The phone slipped from Daniel's grasp. He was just tired.
Bell's blood had since dried.
Daniel shifted and fingered the gaps in Bellwether's shirt. The skin underneath was fine. And warm. And nice, soft like that.
"What's up with you and Damien, huh?" Daniel pitched, half-sitting, half-slouching across Bell's chest. Daniel's eyes met up with Bell's.
"You just reacting to his hate or is it the goat?" he asked. It'd be nice if Bellwether knew. Of course, it was quite a stretch.
Daniel's gaze averted to the fallen and now mutedly beeping phone. His clumsy fingers reached for the wire and fished up the horn.
"I got cash?" he offered up.
"It'll make you forget all about those silly insecurities," Daniel promised with a content grin.
All posts are either in parody or to be taken as literature. This is a roleplay site. Sexual content is forbidden.