Title: Flawed
Author: Lioness Black
Pairing: Paul/Mimi, Roger/April
Rating: PG13/T
Genre: General/Angst
Special Thanks: Those who review! Mmm... yummy reviews.
Spoilers: Roger, April and Mimi did drugs. Mimi is very young.
Disclaimer: Not mine, just good fun.
"What about her? You like blondes?"
"I'm not picking a girl off the street to ask out. It doesn't work like that in the world of heterosexuality."
"Sure it does. The point of dating is to get to know people Not get to know them first. If you get to know them first, then what's the point of spending the next six months already knowing their flaws?"
"Dating, in your little world, is hiding your flaws?" Paul sipped at his iced tea. "Kevin, that's screwed up."
"Have you seen me with a guy for more than six months? I find out he's not a god, I'm not interested," Kevin said.
"What about spending your life with someone?"
"I can do that later when I'm not hot like this."
"No, you need to get them now while you're hot like that, make them fall in love with you, and then when you're not hot anymore, they'll be too caught up to leave. That's how it works in the world of heterosexuality." Paul paused. "It helps to start off hot, though."
"Shut up, Paul. If you were gay and not my brother, I'd totally do you. No, wait, I wouldn't. I already know all your flaws. But that has nothing to do with your looks." Kevin grinned. "Really, little brother, all I want is for you to have someone. If you want one someone and not a string of them, I'm totally for that. Ooh, hey, what about her? I don't care how gay I am, she's hot."
Paul smiled at the redhead hurrying by the café. "There's no way. I know who she is."
"I thought that's what you wanted."
"You know the band The Well Hungarians?"
"Yeah."
"So, you know Roger Davis."
Kevin grinned. "Ohhhh, yeah."
"That was his girlfriend."
"Really... you know her... so you know him?"
"Just her," Paul said. "And I don't even really know her. We met briefly. She and Roger are drug addicts. At least they were as of October, I'm guessing they still are."
"You met her briefly and you know this for a fact?" Kevin asked.
"It was a very informative meeting. I was at the community center, after the late meeting, and I was locking things up. It was pouring rain, cold, October rain. I opened the front door and there's this girl standing under the tiny little awning we have out front. She was soaking wet, and shivering. I told her to come in, and I'd find a towel and maybe some kind of rain jacket. Her jean jacket was soaked through.
"So, she comes inside, and I find a towel and she dries her hair, and I ask her what her name is. She says 'April,' and then lets me know that if I have any ideas, she has a boyfriend. I tell that that all I want to do is get her somewhat dry before she's sent back out into the rain. She seems okay with this answer."
"Because you give off the nice guy vibe," Kevin said.
"Right. Anyway, I can't find a rain coat, but she's thanking me for my help, and as she's reading for her purse, that she had set down on a chair, she knocks it over. Being a nice guy, I help her pick the things up, and I noticed a lovely package of white powder. I'm not sure what it was, but I looked at it, and then I looked at her, and she says, 'We don't use a lot, Roger and me. Just sometimes.'
"I know enough about users to know that when you don't say a word and they start getting defensive about it, it's a sign that whatever they're saying, probably isn't the truth. Whatever. I help her get her things back in her purse, and I send her on her way. She thanks me a hundred times, and she's actually smiling.
"I see her again, a couple weeks later at a Well Hungarians show-"
"Wait. Paul, what the hell were you doing a concert?"
"I go to concerts."
"Jamie dragged you, didn't he?"
"Maybe." Paul took another drink of his iced tea. "Anyway, that's the story of the redhead and why I'm not going to ask her out."
"Okay, so you won't ask girls off the street out on dates," Kevin said. "Why don't I take you to where you don't have to ask any of the girls what you'd like?"
Paul cringed. "Don't take me to a strip club."
"Why not? You need naked women in your life? Do you want to continue being a virgin?"
"I'm not a virgin, and if I were, it'd be none of your fucking business."
"Testy. Paul, you are the oldest twenty-three year old male I've ever met. I get it, you have a lot of responsibility. And I understand why Life Support is such a big part of your life. If anyone understands it, it's me. And you know that's true, right?" Kevin asked, resting his hand on Paul's shoulder and shaking him a little.
"Yeah, I know."
"You need to loosen up. You need to chill out and relax. The world will not fall apart if you have some fun."
"You don't get it, Kev. Every single day I see fifty people who were just having some fun. They thought the sex was harmless, or the drugs were harmless. They thought their fun was harmless, but it wasn't."
"Did I say fuck without a condom? Did I say snort crack? No! I said come with me to a strip joint where I'm not going to have any fun, because all those breasts are going to do nothing for me, and enjoy yourself. I'll buy you a beer and a lap dance, how does that sound?"
"You're not going to let this go, are you?" Paul asked.
"Nope."
"Then I might as well not fight it."
"Damn straight."
---
Paul knew for a fact that he would have felt more comfortable around a hundred homosexuals at a gay club than he would at this seedy strip joint with a girl giving him a lap dance. She was cute, that was for sure. She also looked about fourteen.
It was true, he hadn't been with anyone since moving in with Kevin. He hadn't had a girlfriend, let alone a date, or a one night stand.
This really did feel good, the girl rubbing her ass against his crotch, resting her head down on his shoulder. She moaned in his ear. He could barely hear it over the music, but it was just enough. As the song ended, she flipped herself over and faced him. Her fingers ran through his hair and then she kissed him briefly.
"I get off at midnight," she said. "If you're willing to wait until then."
"I... uh, don't know?"
"Don't know?" she asked, looking a little amused. "Let me put it this way. I'll fuck you if you stay until midnight."
"Okay." Paul wasn't exactly sure why he just agreed to this. It wasn't his thing. He didn't pick up strange girls, strange strippers at that, and take them home. But who could disagree with that kind of frankness.
He stood and went to the bar, and stood next to Kevin. "That stripper just propositioned me."
"That's what I'm talking about!" Kevin said, whacking Paul across the back. He paused. "You said yes, right?"
"Yeah."
"There you go! My work here is done!"
Paul stood there for a moment. "Now what?"
"What do you mean?"
"She gets off work at midnight, so..."
"It's eleven. You're a straight guy at a strip club. I'm sure you can find something to occupy your time. Jesus, Paulie, I can't believe I know how this works better than you do. Just remember to wait outside for her. Bouncers won't let you leave with her. It's like that everywhere."
"Okay." Paul felt a little sick. This wasn't his sort of thing at all. Sure, she was cute, and sure she gave him a hard-on, but he never slept with someone he didn't know.
"Don't think about what crazy diseases she could have, I know what you're thinking. Use a condom, be safe." Kevin put his hands on his hips and studied his brother. "You do have condoms, right?"
"Yes, of course I do."
"Then you're set."
"I suppose so."
"Relax," Kevin said. "This is supposed to be fun, remember? Loosening up?"
Paul nodded and then smiled. "You're right. I'll do my best."
"Fun. Fun."
"I'm on it! Fun! Relaxing!"
Kevin grinned. "I'm so proud. My baby brother on his way to casual sex!"
"Why are you such a pervert?"
"Why are you so lame? It's like I got all the fun genes, and you got all the serious, detach-y, boring genes. Come on, Paul." Kevin put a hand on each of Paul's shoulders and leaned in close. "Seal the deal."
Kevin left soon after that, and Paul waited until midnight. He slipped outside and after a few minutes, the girl trotted out of the club and over to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek.
Paul smiled. "Uh, I'm... I'm Paul."
She grinned. "They call me Mimi."
---
Mimi may have looked fourteen, but she certainly didn't act like, and she most definitely didn't fuck like it.
She didn't say much. She kept close to him on the walk home, casually rubbing his arm. She was smiling the whole time.
When they got Paul's apartment, he saw that Kevin's door was closed, but the light was still on.
"Would you-"
He was cut off by Mimi kissing him. Her mouth worked against his, sliding her tongue in and out of his mouth. She hooked her hips against his and ground against him.
"Where's your bed?" she asked in a low whisper before nipping his lower lip.
Paul found that words were a silly idea and simply led her back into his room. He shut the door, and when he turned to face Mimi, she was sliding onto his bed. She reached up under her skirt and pulled off her panties.
Fun. Relax. Casual.
Okay, in the back of his mind, Paul was thinking of the various diseases he could catch even having protected sex. It was the nature of his job. It was dealing with sexually transmitted diseases day in and day out.
However, this was not the time to ask when her last HIV test was.
Paul discovered quickly that he didn't really have to do much. Mimi obviously knew what she was doing, and he ended up flat on his back, while she fucked him. He slid his hands up her sides and over her breasts and she grinned down at him.
It had been a long time. Over a year. Was it possible to forget and the be suddenly reminded how great this could really be?
Mimi flopped down next to him, and Paul quickly disposed of the condom. He lay down next to her and they shared a smile.
"I have to ask," Paul said. "How old are you?"
"Eighteen," she said.
"Eighteen."
"Almost... eighteen, actually."
"How almost is almost?"
"Like eight months until I'm eighteen." Mimi sounded sheepish.
"You're seventeen. You're barely seventeen." Paul laughed and ran his hands over his face. "Shit. iShit/i."
Mimi looked impressed. "You are the first guy to actually give a shit about my age. You're not the first to ask, but you're the first to care. I knew you were a nice guy when I picked you out."
"What the hell are you doing stripping?"
"I'm homeless. I have to do something. I got a fake ID, and tada, I'm eighteen and able to work wherever I want. Or wherever will hire me. So, I strip, I find a guy who doesn't look like a murderer, and they get a fuck and I get a warm bed to sleep in for the night."
Paul suddenly felt sorry for her. He had met girls like her before, girls in very similar situations. It was his instinct to help her as best he could.
"You know, Mimi, you could... stay here."
"Here?"
"On the couch. No more fucking involved. Until you get on your feet."
She stared at him. "I... I couldn't. That's way too nice of you. I can't."
"Why not?"
"I don't take something for nothing. I mean, if you wanted your own personal sex slave, I'm for it. But I'm not going to sleep on your couch and have a place to stay without strings attached."
"Well, I don't think I'm very comfortable sleeping with a seventeen year old girl."
"What about your roomie?"
"Unless you're hiding a cock in there somewhere, he won't be interested."
Mimi giggled. "Point taken."
Paul smiled. "At least... think about it? I don't like the idea of your sleeping on the streets or trying to weed through murderers to find nice guys to fuck who won't care that you're... underage."
"I think it's possible, Paul, that you're the nicest guy I've ever met in my life. Why the hell do you ever care? You don't know me."
"I'm a counselor with Life Support. It's my job to care."
"Life Support... the AIDS group."
"It's more than that. Anyone is welcome. Anyone having a hard time, but, yes, it's most specifically for people with HIV or AIDS."
"I don't," she said. "Have AIDS, I mean. I just got tested like two weeks ago. When you do what I do, you... watch out."
"I can imagine."
She considered him for a moment. "Do you think you could overlook my age?"
"Do the words 'statutory rape' mean anything to you?"
Mimi leaned over and kissed him, and Paul found himself kissing her back.
"I won't tell," she whispered.
---
Paul and Mimi ran on different schedules. She worked nights, and wouldn't come home until nearly two in the morning on most nights. Paul ran various Life Support meetings during the day. He woke up at seven-thirty every morning and was out until at least nine. They rarely saw each other, and they were maybe, perhaps dating.
When Mimi came in from work, she would crawl into bed with Paul. He protested this for the first two weeks, but when he realized that she wouldn't stop, he went along with it. She kissed his neck and teased him until he was too worked up to protest anything.
Kevin was certainly wrong. Mimi had her flaws, but Paul still found himself enamored with her. He still wanted her.
"I feel guilty," he mumbled into her hair one night. "About this."
"Don't," she said. "I'd feel guilty if I didn't give you something. And I like sleeping with you."
"I'm quickly losing my standing as a nice guy, though," Paul said, smiling a little.
"Nah, if you weren't nice, you wouldn't feel a damn thing. Now, sleep. Or you'll never get up in the morning."
He nodded and kissed her. "Night, Mimi."
"Night, Paul."
---
Paul checked his watch as he jogged up the stairs. It was just after seven. He would probably catch Mimi before she went to work. He had gotten off a meeting and was hoping to get some dinner with, well, maybe his girlfriend? He was still bothered by the six year age difference, but there wasn't any sense denying what was happening.
He pushed open the door to the apartment and saw Mimi sitting on the couch in her work clothes. In her hand was a needle. She looked up at Paul, her eyes growing wide.
"This isn't what it looks like."
"It looks like you're about to shoot up."
"Okay," she said, smiling a little, "it is what it looks like."
"This isn't a joke, Mimi. Just... put the needle down."
She frowned. "I'm sorry, Paul. It's not that easy."
"You think I think it's easy? I've seen hundreds of girls just like you. I know it's hard. I know." Paul stepped closer to her. "But if you use that, I don't think you'll be able to stay here much longer."
"You'll kick me out if I shoot up?" Mimi asked.
"I'm sorry."
"I'm hooked, Paul. I'm hooked. Do you have any idea what withdrawal is like? Please, just let me and I'll fuck you twice a night. Three times, if you want."
"This isn't about sex, it never has been. That's... you're so young, Mimi. God, I don't know why I let things..." Paul shook his head. "And I know that you've been using me. No wonder you were homeless, Mimi. Spending all your money on smack."
"I know." Tears slipped down her cheeks.
"You can put the needle down. You can."
"No, I'm sorry. I can't. I can't. Can't." She looked down at her arm and slid the needle in.
"Oh, Mimi." Paul shook his head. "I'm sorry too."
She took a deep breath. She looked up at him. "I'm better now."
"No, honey, you're not."
Kevin was wrong. You can't leave someone based on having flaws. But some flaws were too big to be overlooked.
---
Two days later, Paul was sitting at the community center. He rested his face in his hands. He had moved Mimi out and in with one of the long time Life Support members, Angel. He knew Angel could take care of Mimi. He should have done that weeks ago. He shouldn't have let things get so out of control.
The door opened and Paul looked up at the familiar face. "April."
"You remembered," she said. Her makeup was smeared, and her eyes were red. "That was months ago."
"Of course I remembered." He stood. "What can I do for you?"
"Tell me how to die." She started crying and rested her head on his shoulder. Her shoulders shook.
"It's okay," Paul said, resting his hand on her back. "It's all right."
She looked up at him. "I just found out that I've got HIV. I'm positive. I'm going to die. I'm going to die. Jesus Christ. Shit. Fuck!"
"You're not dying today," he said. "You're not dying tomorrow."
"My boyfriend. Roger. He's has it too. He has to. We shared everything. Everything. He's going to... I don't know what he's going to do. I don't know what I'm going to do. Fuck! I don't want to die! Fuck! Don't tell me to calm down!"
"I wasn't going to. This will changes aspects of your life, but not all of it. It's fine to feel angry, or scared. Anything you feel is what you feel. You have a right to feel what you're feeling. No matter what it is."
"I don't want to die like this. I want more! I want... I don't want to tell Roger that he's dying. I don't know how to tell him that. How do you tell that that someone?" April began crying again.
Paul held her until she calmed.
April wiped her eyes, the last of her eyeliner now smeared across the back of her hand. "Thank you. I'm definitely going to go home and deal with what I'm feeling."
He smiled. "Good. Talk to your boyfriend. You can get through this together."
She bit her lower lip. "Yeah. Definitely. 'Bye."
"I'll see you," he said.
April smiled, a sad smile, a familiar sad smile that Paul had seen a thousand times before. The smile of fear, sadness, and acceptance.
It wouldn't be until years later that Paul would discover that he was the last person to speak to April.
But that day, he felt like he accomplished something. Like things would work out for her. Like if he couldn't save Mimi, he could still help the rest of the world. He could still help someone.