Lawrence looked up from his feet for the first time since he had left his house, and let out a low steady stream of curses. He had told himself he only wanted to go for a nice walk, a walk at night around the blocks to clear his head and he had, as always ended up here.
He looked up at the plain brick building and mused if he should go in or not as the cold air blew around him causing him, in only a thin grey jacket, to make up his mind rather quickly. Telling himself it was only because he was cold he ducked inside the building and made his way up to the third floor.
He stood outside of C-318 and wondered if he should knock, if he should wait downstairs, sitting in a chair kicking his feet up and reading a paper while he "took his walk" , but of course he knew better by now. The first time his feet took him to Adam's place he believed it was his feet that took him there, not his heart or his mind. He thought it was for comfort, support or something like that. A doctor's mind until Adam opened the door and saw him standing there, and every inch of doctor melted away. He understood why he was there and so did Adam and before Lawrence stepped over the threshold, Adam shot him a look, the look that made Lawrence realize that if he stepped into the room tonight, took his wedding ring off, and found his way into Adam's perfect darkness that there would be no turning around, no going back. Lawrence thought for a few seconds, a few blissfully silent seconds and stepped into the room.
He knocked, once, twice, a last time as the sounds of a very impatient Adam emitted from the apartment,
"Damn it; are you here for that damned pipe thing? I swear to god I didn't break – "He opened the door, clad in only a towel his hair dripping wet. Drops of water gleamed off his naked upper torso as he stood one hand on the door frame, the other running through his hair. His ribs shown through the thin skin, a thin patchwork of veins and arteries crisscrossing over his chest. A figure any model would die for. He felt Lawrence's eyes run over his body, eyes that although were looking down most of his trip over were only hiding because here they were naked with their lust and dominance and need.
"Lawrence….Wow, man, come on in. I thought you were Mr. Strualkson….he's been bitching me out about those damn water pipes." Lawrence let out a low chuckle, it looked like Adam, and typical Adam didn't give a damn as displayed by the water droplets covering his body and oh sweet god that towel was awfully low.
He couldn't help it, he was like a damn teenager, a damn teenage boy with his teenage flirty girlfriend and he knew Adam enough to know that towel hadn't simply slipped. Since opening the door he adjusted his stance so he went from simply holding the door frame to leaning on in, in the process the towel slipped down an inch or so and in no time at all it would either fall or get torn off.
"So, I was just in the shower showing him a thing or two about how much water I can use god damn it, I pay these damn bills I should get a hot shower every now and again. So you want to come – "
Lawrence pushed Adam back and in one swift movement that made him feel 18 again he closed the door, slamming it shut, with his foot and he grabbed at Adam, pulling him as close as he could get, pressing his lips against the boy's ready and willing open soft perfect lips. He felt the water that was clinging to Adam press against his chest. As Adam pulled away, he was the teenage girlfriend, bringing you to Lovers Lane only to tease. A smirk danced across his flawless face, as Adam unbuttoned Lawrence's pale green button up.
"Don't want to ruin this now do we?" He asked, his fingers, not doctors but just as skilled and quick unfastening every white button and letting the shirt drop to the floor as Lawrence once again reached for the towel draped lazily now around the boy's hips. He pulled away again, that damned grin dancing across his face.
"You first" he said, the smile never fading, although Lawrence loved the boy he hated when he was in these moods. He was so damn self conscious and he'd play it off like it was all a joke, a little tease a little torment, drag it out to get the bang for your buck but Lawrence knew better. He undressed slowly, pushing Adam towards the bedroom the whole time where the two fell to the messy sheets just in time as Lawrence ripped the towel off and Adam didn't care anymore.
--
The two lay in bed, Adam sleeping, covered in his thin sweat, the watery film that always clung to him after moments like this simply adding to his sleeping beauty. That was the nick name that seemed to stick, after all whenever he wasn't busily running through Lawrence's day dreams he was sleeping. If he wasn't out there taking shots for his firm or defying somebody in some way or another he was here, passed out.
He'd never told Lawrence, but he knew it all the same. It was like knowing that even though the blinds are closed that the world's still outside. He watched his sleeping beauty rest, he ran one hand gingerly through his hair, feeling the moister still there from the shower. He needed to leave, even though he'd do anything to stay, anything at all. He stood, his courage finalized, if only for this second. He pulled on his pants in the darkness, his shirt, his jacket and as he walked to the door managed his shoes.
"Larry…." A weak voice calling him from the open bedroom door and he was faced with the choice he always had, he could either turn and loose the will to leave and run back to the bed and let his arms drape around Adam and let the two of them sleep together for the rest of the night and that would only lead to him staying the day after, and the day after that, and the day after that, and the day after that….
Or he could keep walking and leave, come back tomorrow night, or the night after. He could stay for a beer, a talk, and of course the kisses that were messily planted across each other. The never ending power struggle of the weak versus the strong, youth versus age, passion versus reason, and he would let himself loose for a half hour. He would throw the checkerboard out the window and surrender his queen to Adam. When he was so sure the boy was sleeping he'd retake his throne and retreat into the night, or sometimes day, hiding from the person he could swear he didn't love.
He kept walking, opening the door and closing it behind him. Adam would never cry over Lawrence, not the way he had the first time he left him, laying on the couch, the TV talking to nobody really, and the sweat leaving stains on his shirt as he panted heavily. He watched Lawrence walk away, and he called out, the words changed but the message stayed the same. When he kept walked he let the acidic tears drip, hating himself for being used and swearing he wouldn't let that bastard back in.
The next night Lawrence knocked and Adam sat on the couch, his hand in a bag of Salt and Vinegar chips his eyes steady on the screen in front of him, his breathing labored and irregular. It only took four knocks before Adam surrendered himself to Lawrence all over again, damning himself in his mind until thoughts were inconceivable.
Calling out the second time he had been in his bed, the mattress on the floor watching those fancy doctor shoes tip toe away. He called out once, not relying on his voice. "Lawrence." He stopped, but he didn't turn, couldn't turn and walked away. Adam buried his face in the pillow and let the screams and tears become muffled with the smell of sweat and Lawrence's Old Spice.
Tonight was no huge difference, although he had stopped crying when Lawrence left without a word. He called his name once and then let the doctor slip out into the night and he just laid on his back and wondered why he allowed himself to be this, this person who simply laid in the bed and called out, the damsel in distress while the hero walks away. In every movie he'd seen where the hero and his girl had got done in bed, the hero sat up and got changed, silently, and then he simply walked away, ignoring her cry Adam always bitched. "Unrealistic. Why doesn't she go after him?" And now, as Adam lay in the bed, his hand fumbling for his lighter in the darkness knew why they couldn't chase their cowboy into the night; because they couldn't move.
Lawrence closed the door behind him and ignored the stares from the woman next to Adam's apartment. She didn't speak English and it was always easier to flash a smile and wave. Say goodnight and leave. No questions, no cameras, not an inch of blame. A stare as he left and she cursed and prayed in Spanish as she went back into her own apartment. There was something so wrong with his and Adam's relationship.
He walked into the night, feeling the perfume of the night wrap itself around him, he could feel the wind picking up, the rain that danced away behind the clouds was going to fall any second now and wash away everything. He started to walk the way he had come, he could simply say he ducked inside a café with an old friend, or something as he secretly swore to himself that he wouldn't return. However, things seem to flash through his mind, images, pictures, sounds and feelings and everything that he would think about tonight in bed with Ally. The things that would make him come back tomorrow.
Those tiny hands on his hips, pushing him further, deeper, begging him in the ways that Ally could never beg for him. A time when they didn't need to say anything at all, no sounds were needed and nothing was welcome except for the sweet release they both craved from the other. Lawrence pulled nervously at his collar thinking of that smile, those lusty deprived eyes, and that voice, that high pitched boyish whine that never changed as he left.
He, as always nervously played with the neck of his shirt again and again, his pants, his cuffs, he tried to hid the slowly purpling bruises on his neck, chest, hips, and everywhere else he could only hid under boxers. Ally wouldn't look; she wasn't interested in Lawrence like that since over 5 years ago. He told himself, as he played with the bruises, that he would never come back, but he knew he would and that one day, when Adam called to him he would turn around….
Misfit: Well, although it seems a little PWP-ish I have yet to decide if it is or not. This was originally the first chapter of a longer story, however I've lost my motivation to write it, but I do like this for one reason – Both of them are alive. As a ChainShipper, one of my friends have pointed out that I have yet to really put one of the stories that is actually kind to the pairing. Just a small break from FFCH, But I'll get back to that. It's sadly coming to an end and so I'm just trying to make the last few chapters perfect. Also, I've been on a huge Matrix kick so that isn't helping me concentrate on Saw. XD. AND I'm sick AND work is screwing up my working hours so I have to work all weekend every weekend until Xmas I think. Damn sucks doesn't it?
Hope you guys like this as a little break, and tell me if you think I should try to keep this going. Alison and Larry would still be together and Alison has a bunch of chapters to herself *at least in it's original plotline.* So, theres that to think about. Well talk to you soon ^ ^