AN: I don't even know what this is, other than proof that I can still write a oneshot. Albeit an extremely weird, multi-crossover oneshot. All I know is I had possibly a little too much fun writing this and drank possibly a little too much coffee during the creation of this mothertrucker. See, it was supposed to be a really short, confusing, angsty drabble-like piece and then somehow a real, live plotline developed and somewhere along the way it switched from angst to a strange sort of humor piece with copious amounts of sexual innuendo, bitchy and sex addicted yet lovable Ella Simms, downright goofy Clay Miller and doing his best impression of the brooding dark avenger (no, not Batman. The other dark avenger aka Angel the vampire with a soul) Tom Hanniger.
FYI, I'm putting this in the Supernatural category because, while no SPN characters technically appear, it takes place in the Supernatural world and it really wouldn't make sense if you haven't seen the show.
Title: put another dime in the jukebox, baby
Summary: Multi-crossover AU: Tom Hanniger, Clay Miller and Ella Simms try to make sense of their new lives as hunters while Tom and Ella try to sift through the mess of their odd, fragmented relationship.
Fandoms: My Bloody Valentine 3D, Melrose Place (2009), Friday the 13th (2009), Supernatural and there's a tiny smidge of a throwaway One Tree Hill crossover, which, for me, means there's a little bit of Haley James making an appearance as a momentary fling.
Pairing: Tom Hanniger/Ella Simms.
Genre: Romance/Drama.
Rating: M for sexual situations.
Spoilers: I'd say spoilers for both movies (My Bloody Valentine and Friday the 13th) and Melrose Place.
Warnings: Lots and lots of sex talk and innuendos, lots and lots of language and a somewhat fluffy ending I did not plan for.
Notes: Title from the song I Love Rock and Roll by Joan Jett and the Blackhearts.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything.
put another dime in the jukebox, baby
Written by Becks Rylynn
Clay Miller doesn't know it but he's been here before.
In another life, one that exists on the other end of the spectrum in a different world, this is what Sam Winchester's life is like. Perhaps it is something like fate. Destiny. Something that is just meant to be. Something that he is just supposed to do. Or perhaps he is cursed.
It's an entirely different life (he doesn't know it's an entirely different life, of course; to him, this is the only life he's ever known) and he still has to play mediator when things turn sour, as they often do, between the resident grim faced, world weary traveler and the beautiful enigma with a tongue as sharp as a knife.
This is his life. It is all very unfortunate.
This time it begins, as these things almost always tend to begin, with her complaining:
''I don't belong here in this filth with you two mongrels, and I hate you two for doing this to me!'' She is pacing in the small motel room, glaring with disgust and contempt at the sparse room that is not at all to her liking. She runs her finger over the surface of the table while she is pacing and barely conceals her hatred at the sight of the dust. This is not what she is accustomed to, Clay knows that. It has been drilled into his head since they saved her life in that alley.
''Jesus fuck,'' Tom mutters under his breath, cracking his knuckles one by one instead of punching the walls like Clay can tell he really wants to do. ''What a melodramatic bitch.''
''Do you know who I am?'' She snarls, turning on them with that sort of scary glare they have gotten used to. ''Do you know what you took me away from? I fucking took down Amanda Woodward. Do you realize what I could have been?''
Clay looks to Tom like he's looking for guidance. Tom clenches his jaw and looks at her. ''Yes, Ella,'' they recite easily.
''If you two hadn't come along - ''
And Tom, as usual, snaps. ''If we hadn't come along, you stupid ungrateful brat, you would have been dead.''
She sticks her nose up in the air and turns away from them dramatically. ''I would have handled it myself. I'm not a damsel.'' She crosses her arms and sets her lips into a grave frown, her eyes burning into Tom like fire. ''I want to go home. I want to go back to LA and the sun, I want to call David and let him know I'm not dead, and I want to be a publicist. I don't give a flying fuck about saving the world. I just want to be Ella Simms again.''
Clay doesn't think she means to sound so sad when those last words slip from her cracked and dry lips. ''Ella - ''
She holds a hand up. ''Can it, Clay. Big sister is talking.''
It takes a moment, but he still flinches at the word sister. ''Why do you have to be such a bitch all the time?'' He asks quietly, glancing over at his discarded jacket where the old worn picture of Whitney lies safely in his pocket.
She, at least, has the decency to look a little bit ashamed.
Striding purposefully towards the door, Tom doesn't even appear to care one little bit about her apparent sadness, flinging open the door and letting the cold air inside. ''Hey, you don't want to be here, you're free to go anytime you want,'' he bites out. ''Nobody is holding you here against your will. You can go back home and let that creepy bastard who nearly killed you waltz right into your life and kill everyone you care about. I'm sure you won't care a bit, right? As long as you're flourishing as a publicist.''
She holds his gaze for a long time and then takes a step towards him. It is only when Tom lurches forwards in a mildly threatening manner that Clay decides the best and safest course of action would be to step in between them. ''Hey! Hey, guys, why don't we all go out and get a drink? It'll calm some obviously frayed nerves.'' He pushes at Tom's chest. ''You can brood.'' He looks at Ella. ''You can flirt. Fun times, right? Right?''
''One of these days,'' Tom breathes, eyes flashing. ''You're going to have to pick a side, baby.''
Ella continues to glare. ''Well, it will never be yours.''
Then she spins on her heel, stalks into the bathroom and slams the door roughly.
Clay sighs and turns to give Tom a look.
The older man shrugs. ''Hey, none of us asked for this life, Miller. But we're in it. She's going to have to get used to it.''
Tom finally seems to have calmed down by the time Ella stalks out of the bathroom and rips the covers off of her bed because he sighs, rubs his forehead and looks up from what he's doing. ''I don't want any trouble tonight, Ella.'' He says it like a warning. Clay just wonders what the warning is. What exactly would Tom do if Ella did make trouble? The poor guy is utterly infatuated with her, everyone can see that.
''Well, honey,'' her voice is oddly hoarse and her eyes are red, like she's been crying, which is odd because Ella never lets her guard down long enough to cry. ''That's just too damn bad, isn't it? All we've got is trouble.''
Clay goes out for a drink later when the silence gets too loud so he misses the part where Tom crawls into bed next to Ella and stubbornly refuses to leave until she lets him look at her, red rimmed eyes and all.
Neither one of them is sure what that means, but Ella generally prefers to keep her vulnerabilities to herself so it has to mean something.
Ella is not tact nor is she or particularly kind and she has a habit of getting herself into dangerous situations by sticking her nose where it does not belong. And she clearly does not like being called psychotic. Both Tom and Clay learn about that last one in the car one day after Tom has called her psychotic after she has ranted on and on about the life she used to live for ten minutes straight. As soon as the insult slips, she calmly inclines her head to Tom and fires back her own vile insult.
''At least I didn't murder a whole bunch of people, Tommy boy.''
Tom slams on the breaks, blinks and leans over to her. In the backseat, Clay goes forwards at lightning speed to separate them. All Tom winds up doing is reaching past her to wrench open her door. ''Get out.''
She folds her arms. ''Screw you.''
Clay catches Ella later that night in the parking lot, in between two pickup trucks, one shiny and new, the other with chipped paint and a broken headlight. She wrinkles her nose at him, stepping back. ''Christ,'' she mumbles, ''you're fucking drunk. You smell like a bar threw up on you.''
''You,'' he points an accusing finger at her, breath hanging in the cool April air. ''Are a goddamned rotten, cruel, bitter, spoiled hag and I don't know why we put up with you. You know that?''
''I think you're mistaking me for someone who cares about what other people think of her,'' she responds arrogantly. ''I don't care what anyone thinks of me. Least of all boy wonder and his best pal the mass murdering fiend.''
''Ella, you know what happened in Harmony wasn't his fault,'' he sighs out. A headache is forming right between his eyes and he thinks he is beginning to sober up. He'd very much like to stop that. ''You know he was possessed. You know that. He trusted you enough to tell you that and you fucking blew it.''
She shrugs. ''Hey, he needs to learn how to come to terms with the Valentine's day incident. Pretending it never happened isn't helping him.''
He stares at her, fish mouthed and unable to say a word. It isn't until she's walking away that he winds up forming the right words for a comeback. ''And you need to learn to stop hiding from your feelings for him but you don't see him being an asshole in order to get you to buck up and fuck him already, do you?''
She snickers, eyes twinkling. ''And what makes you think I haven't fucked him already, hmm? Do you know who I am? I'm Ella Simms. I get what I want. If I wanted him, I'd have him.''
The door to the motel room opens and Tom leans against the doorframe, staring out at both of them with an arched eyebrow. ''Interesting conversation?'' He asks, tipping his bottle of beer to his lips. He looks at them both intently as though he knows exactly what they were talking about. Clay swears the man has super hearing. There is a certain look on his face, it's carved into the curve of his mouth and it gleams in his eyes. It is something dark and frightening and Clay finds himself wondering, not for the first time, if Warden left something behind inside of Tom Hanniger.
But then Ella shoves past Tom roughly, his eyes darken even more and Clay lets out a breath. Maybe it's not evil. Maybe it's just her.
Perhaps it is something like love.
Tom rolls his eyes and mutters something derogatory about Ella under his breath before focusing his attention back on Clay. ''Are you gonna come inside or what?''
''I think I need another drink.''
Tom shrugs. ''Whatever. But you should put on a jacket. It's cold outside.''
Well, thanks, big brother.
''Look,'' she sighs, fidgeting. ''I'm sorry, okay? Mentioning Harmony was probably a low blow.''
He blinks at her owlishly. Then he shrugs. ''Whatever.''
''...Hey, you want me to give you an apology hand job or something?''
He looks at her oddly. ''I'm fine, thanks.''
Her shoulders slump. ''Oh.''
She misses his grin when he looks away from her.
It's all relative, isn't it? Love and hate and all of the things in between that eat you up. They're all connected, they're all related, they're all the same. Tom and Ella cannot stand each other during the days. But at night, when Clay disappears to go drink or flirt or walk around the block just to get away from them, she gives up the fight and he lets himself press his fingers into her instead of kicking tables over and punching walls.
While Clay is knocking back another drink at the bar down the street, Ella is hopping onto the bed next to Tom, lips formed into a delicate pout. ''I'm bored.''
He lets out a patient sigh, lets the remote fall to the ground with a dull thud and looks at her. ''Okay.'' He kisses her lazily, mouth slanting over hers, and she digs her nails into his neck so he pulls at her hair and relishes in the sharp gasp he gets in return.
''Whoa...''
Clay is staring with wide eyes and a slow, goofy grin is spreading across his lips at the sight before him. He doesn't mean to act so stereotypically male, but this like every male's number one fantasy and it's impossible not to be a little hyped to see it in the flesh.
Beside him, Tom's strained smile is purely because he's amused by Clay's reaction. It is not at all because he's enjoying the sight before him. ''Ella,'' he says, putting his hands on his hips. No response. ''Ella.'' Nothing. And he's getting creeped out by Clay's grin now. ''Ella, for God's sake, come up for air!''
Ella pulls away from her new friend, licking her swollen lips. ''Oh,'' she sweeps her eyes over Tom and Clay, eyes landing on Tom. ''Hi, guys.'' She gestures towards her slightly dazed looking companion. ''This is Haley,'' she introduces. ''She's trying something new.'' Her eyes gleam wickedly and she runs her tongue over her teeth. ''It's me, by the way.''
Clay nods, bouncing on the balls of his feet. ''Oh, I got that.''
Instead of whatever reaction Ella had been hoping for from Tom, he merely smiles pleasantly and holds out a hand to the blushing brunette Ella has detached herself from. ''Well, hello, Haley, is it? I'm Tom.'' He kisses her hand and winks at her, very odd for Tom, all charming smiles that make Haley turn positively crimson.
Ella's eyes narrow.
Clay's still stuck on the fact that he totally just saw two girls making out.
''Tom cock blocked me,'' Ella declares, sliding onto the barstool next to Clay.
''How rude,'' he quips.
''I know. He befriended my conquest, the jackass. They're all buddy-buddy now and I think they're talking about...books or...something else I don't give a damn about.''
''Well, what were you expecting? Jealousy?'' He smirks. ''The guy doesn't do jealousy, Elle.''
''What does he do?''
''Mostly? You.'' He throws a look over his shoulder towards Haley and Tom, shaking his head. It completely boggles his mind when he sees them laughing about something. To be honest, he had never really been clear on whether or not Tom knew how to laugh. And he understands that. Really, he does. When you're possessed and have to watch yourself kill a whole bunch of people...it's gotta mess you up pretty darn bad. Clay understands why Tom is the way he is. It's a coping mechanism. But Clay has gotten so used to emotionless bastard Tom that it is extremely unnerving to see the dude acting all...happy and stuff. ''You want a solution to your problem?''
She seems to hesitate, eyeing him closely as if trying to gauge how drunk he is. For the record, he is not drunk tonight. Tonight he is simply tipsy. And that's all. He's rather proud of that. ''I'm all ears,'' she finally says.
He offers her a grin, which turns out to be more of a leer. ''Threesome.''
She sighs and stands, smoothing down her patented short and skimpy little black dress. ''Eh, they're not all they're cracked up to be, sweetie.''
He swings his gaze away from Tom and Haley and back to her. ''What?''
''What?''
''You've had a...? You know, I think I'm just gonna pretend I didn't hear that. And congratulations on going exactly three minutes and forty five seconds without insulting me. That must be a new record for you.''
Ella crawls onto Tom that night while Clay is in the shower.
He pushes her off of him and she goes sprawling to the floor, unimpressed.
''What the hell was that?'' She hisses, pushing herself to her feet.
''Not tonight, Elle.''
She rubs at her temples because she is getting indefinitely tired of this dance. ''Tom, do you want me or not? Because I honestly don't know anymore.''
He tosses his book aside and folds his arms, looking at her blankly. ''I'm going to be honest with you, barbie girl. I understand the concept of honesty may seem foreign to you - '' this is where he pauses to sneer at her '' - but try to stay with me, okay? I want you. But,'' he holds up a finger when she opens her mouth to respond. ''I don't want a fuck buddy. I'm going to make this abundantly clear. If I can't have all of you, I don't want any of you. So if you can't admit you have feelings for me that run deeper than the occasional fuck then tell me so I can begin to move forwards instead of staying in this agonizing stalemate that I have going with you. Am I making myself clear?''
She stands in the dim light of the ugly motel room with the puke green wallpaper, fuming and cursing her fate. ''Well...Well, fine. If that's the way you feel then...then we can just end this fling now because I don't - I repeat don't - want a relationship. Especially not with you.'' She yanks the covers back on the other bed and climbs under the blankets. ''Dick.''
He sends her a dry smirk. ''Which is exactly what you're not getting tonight, babe.''
None of them actively sought out hunting. It was something they all just sort of stumbled into. For Tom and Clay it was Harmony and Crystal Lake, Warden and Jason. For Ella, it was a wrong time, wrong place kind of thing late at night on the streets of LA while she was in the middle of a screaming match with her ex and they made the mistake of turning into a dark alley and witnessing something they shouldn't have.
Everybody's got a tragic past, right?
Tom is like a super hunter because he has no regard for his life whatsoever and shows very little regard for anyone else's even though Clay knows Tom's heart is bigger than he lets on and if it came down to it, he'd do anything to save an innocent person. Clay is not nearly as good as Tom, but he fights like hell and hey, he always manages to make it to the end of the movie somehow so he's got to be doing something right. Tom sees hunting as his penance. Clay sees it as a way of life because he knows firsthand what it's like to lose someone to evil and he doesn't want to see anyone else have to suffer through that.
But Ella...Ella is a completely different ballpark. She's better at hunting than anyone ever could have expected from a pampered city girl like her because she's fearless and clever and knows how to stay alive, but she lacks the proper compassion one needs to be a truly excellent hunter. And she doesn't see it as penance or a way of life. She sees it as a prison. A cage she can't get out of. The only reason she's even hunting is because some freaky demon killed her ex-boyfriend right in front of her, tried to kill her (would have if Tom and Clay hadn't shown up) and then went after everyone she cared about and now she can't go home until she sees the bastard burn with her own eyes.
She has flaws when it comes to her new line of work. Aside from the aforementioned lack of compassion issue, she is also impatient, much too talky (chickadee's got a mouth on her that's gonna get her more deader than dead), she still can't properly operate a firearm (she's got a knack for knives, though) and she adamantly refuses to wear the proper attire (she's all make up and heels and perfectly coiffed hair and for God's sake, the woman wears dresses while she's hunting for monsters).
But for every flaw, there is something shockingly awesome about her ability to do this job. She can get information Tom and Clay could never get in a thousand years, she has an incredibly high IQ, she can track demons like nobody's business, she's really good at hand to hand combat (she will fuck you up real good, no joke) and she has scary eyes that, despite what he says, have even managed to intimidate the normally stoic and unflappable Tom Hanniger.
She's flawed (aren't they all?) and has unconventional tactics but the girl knows how to get the fucking job done.
One night, they're hunting ghosts. It sounds completely and utterly absurd, but it is the bitter truth none of them can seem to swallow. This is their lives now. They're fucking hunting ghosts. How fucking unbelievable. But back to the point.
They're hunting ghosts.
Clay is being professional. Ella and Tom are doing their impression of Booth and Bones, what with the unsaid and seemingly unrequited feelings and all. Clay glances behind him before he ventures up the slightly terrifying looking staircase, looks from Ella clad in her black dress and heels (God, woman) with Tom's jacket draped over her shoulder to Tom, with one hand twitching at his side like he very much wants to reach for her just in case he needs to play hero. Clay has the hardest time biting back a Buffy/Angel joke, deterred only by the fact that he knows Ella hates Buffy and Angel and thinks two dirty socks had more chemistry.
Dear God, he is disgusted by the whole thing. His friends are exhausting.
''I don't know,'' he says, climbing the stairs. ''Nothing's jumped out at us yet, you know. Maybe - ''
''Seriously?'' Ella butts in. ''Why would you even say that? That's like the mother of all jinxes. For God's sake, shouldn't you of all people know that? Didn't you practically live a horror movie?''
Clay turns around to shine his flashlight in her eyes. ''Still working on that thinking before you talk thing? 'Cause you're not doing great.''
''I'm just saying.''
''Well, maybe you should try not to say anything at all for, like, ten minutes.''
The next thing he knows, Clay is feeling a very cold, very bony hand on his shoulder and Tom is roughly shoving him right into Ella and leveling his shotgun filled with rock salt at one ugly ass looking ghost chick. The ghost woman lets out a gurgle, blood drips from her mouth and Tom shoots her. It's nice that one of them is paying attention. He turns back towards them with a disbelieving look on his face as if he cannot believe either of them could be that dimwitted. ''And what have we learned?'' He asks, lowering his shotgun ever so briefly.
''Clay's an idiot?''
''We should duct tape Ella's mouth shut when we're trying to be stealthy?''
Tom brushes past both of them with a shake of his head. ''Don't know why I put up with either of you.''
It's really only a simple salt and burn. If anything, all it does is highlight that although they all barely manage to get along, they are a good team. But the real remarkable thing about this hunt is that it's a burst of adrenaline and endorphins and Ella reacts to both of those things by going out and finding a warm body. For a long time, that warm body was Tom. She used to let him do a lot of things to her to take the edge off after a hunt. Then the bastard cut her off all because he's in love with her or something tedious like that.
She supposes she can't really blame him. She is a wonderful bitch, after all. But love is not in her game plan and she doesn't know what he's expecting of her but she can't give it to him. She doesn't know how to do a steady relationship. She sorta did that once and it sorta didn't end super well. So, really, what's the point? She'll just wind up getting hurt again and she doesn't enjoy that feeling so...thanks, but no thanks.
She'll stick with meaningless, casual sex.
That is her plan and she is sticking to it.
Until her plan goes awry.
Contrary to what you might think, Tom Hanniger is perfectly at ease with his life. For now. His only problem is that he believes he is falling for the most frustrating woman on the face of the earth and she's so scared of getting her heart broken that she'll never let him have anything other than her body. He's in a situation most men would kill to be in - hot girl wants to have meaningless sex - and all it's doing is making him want to blow his brains out. And he misses sex with Ella. Very much.
But he has principles. Just because everyone in Harmony thinks he's a mass murdering psychopath and Clay thinks he's an odd emotionless robot man doesn't mean that he doesn't have scruples. A friends with benefits arrangement is not his cup of tea. He has strong feelings for Ella Simms that he is willing to face and she is running from her own feelings like a scared little girl. That's the recap.
Tonight, Ella is off getting off with some random guy (or girl) to relieve her own tension and he is bored and rethinking his stance on this whole don't touch me/leave me alone/hurry up and wait/fuck me harder thing he's got going with the lovely Ms. Simms. How important are morals anyway? Translation: He's horny.
And then this happens:
The door to the motel room bangs open and Ella storms through, clothes rumpled, makeup smudged eyes like fire. ''You...'' She points a shaking finger at him, entire body heaving with rage. ''You...You...'' All at once she deflates, crumpling and folding into herself like a sad and freakishly lifelike dying doll, looking tired and forlorn. ''Have sex with me,'' she pleads. ''Please?''
He can't help but hesitate. Have you seen Ella Simms? ''No,'' he fires back. It's becoming harder and harder (no pun intended) to say no to her.
''Eat me out.''
''...No.''
''Do something to me!''
''Christ, what is your glitch, chick?''
She narrows her eyes at him and straightens her dress primly. ''You bastard,'' she grinds out through her teeth. ''What have you done to me? I always get what I want! I'm Ella Simms! I want you to have sex with me, Tom. Right now. I need you to fuck me. Okay? Can you just stop playing this little game of yours for - ''
''Who's playing, Ella?'' He frowns at her. ''This isn't a game, you idiot.''
''Just...Just...''
''Aww, what's the matter?'' He mocks, rising to his feet. ''Couldn't get off?''
She lets out a dramatic half wail, half screech and throws her arms out, knocking over a lamp in the process of her diva tantrum. He catches it and sets it upright. He very nearly lets a full blown grin stretch onto his lips, which is something he generally avoids. ''...Is that seriously your problem?'' He asks calmly. ''Well...score one for team me.''
''I didn't mean for this to happen!'' She shouts, looking like she's about three seconds from pulling her hair out.
''And you think I did?'' He can't help but ask quietly. ''Nobody means for these things to happen, baby. Nobody plans for them. Nobody seeks this out. It just happens.'' He takes a slow step towards her, hand coming up to touch her cheek. She doesn't dance away from him, so he takes that as a plus. ''And once you've got it in you, you can't get it out. And then it spreads. It's like a disease. Ain't love grand?''
''You've ruined me,'' she accuses quietly.
''I didn't mean to.''
''You've tarnished my sex halo, Tom Hanniger. I hope you're happy.''
He chuckles. ''Ella,'' he muses softly. ''Tell me you love me.''
She twists and pushes at his chest, falling back and gliding away from him. She swallows her heart and shakes her head fiercely. ''Absolutely not.''
His eyes darken in frustration for a moment and then he takes a deep breath and shrugs carelessly. ''Fine then,'' he turns away from her. ''Have fun getting yourself off.''
It becomes a source of amusement for awhile. A dangerous source of amusement because whenever he teases her about her brand new problem, Ella throws something heavy at his head, but a source of amusement all the same. He teases her mercilessly without an ounce of sympathy for her, smirking and laughing when she glares and sticks her nose up in the air like the spoiled princess she is.
Clay often starts the pattern of jokes. One time he can't get the coffeemaker in their room unplugged and after spending several minutes pulling at the plug, he grunts in frustration and says without thinking, ''It won't come!''
So naturally, Tom says, ''Huh ...Kinda like Ella then?''
And so Ella throws an alarm clock at his head and storms out.
Another time, Clay swats away Ella's hand when she tries to steal food off his plate in a truck stop diner. ''Get off, woman!''
Which earns a swift response of, ''She wishes.''
Ella throws the ice water with lemon that she made a big deal about to the waitress in his face for that one. ...And then she storms out.
It would all be fairly innocent on Clay's part. Except that he knows exactly what he's doing when he says these things. The kid's not an idiot. These things all grow old and Tom tires of them rather quickly and after awhile, precisely three and a half weeks, she has begun to look so utterly pitiful that he's actually starting to feel sorry for her. He doesn't know how she manages to get him to feel sorry for her, but she does.
It must be love.
''Am I the only one completely and utterly fucking terrified of her?'' Clay asks one night after Ella has thrown a book at Tom's head and then locked herself in the bathroom like an overdramatic teenager, ranting about how she wants Tom to go and get her another room right now because she refuses to breathe the same air as him.
''She isn't scary if you see her like I do,'' Tom says wisely.
''Oh.'' Clay frowns and seems to process those words. ''...You mean naked?''
Tom lets out a long suffering sigh and goes to get Queen Ella her own room because she will pitch a bitch fit for the rest of the night if he doesn't abide by her wishes. And then she'll ask him to have sex with her, and one of these days, he's going to give in just to get her to shut the fuck up.
It all builds up.
It's all tangled and messy. Their relationship? It's a snarl of things light and dark. Light and dark. Good and evil. Right and wrong. Should and shouldn't. That, you know, is their destiny. In whatever world they are in, whoever they are in that world, couldn't, shouldn't and wouldn't is their song. Stubbornness and resistance is their theme. It is simply the way of the universe. It's how things work.
He meant what he said when he said he wasn't playing a game. This isn't a game. It was never a game. He just wants to be with her.
And it all builds up. It builds up and breaks down and builds up and builds up and builds up until they can't grasp anything with their fingers because they can't feel their fingers. And then they explode. There is a clever little euphemism in there like an homage to the constant in their relationship. The constant being sex, you realize. In case you didn't get that.
Things explode one night while it's raining and they can't see the stars.
There's a wendigo, it's hard to set things on fire when it's raining, she is wearing a dress as per usual and Tom winds up strung up in the thing's lair because he saved her stupid life because he loves her because maybe he's a little stupid himself.
He wakes up in the hospital and she's standing in the doorway, splayed out against the doorframe with her head tilted to the side and her ruined heels in her hand. The room is dark, the hallway is bright and she stands somewhere in the middle, glowing. She looks like something truly gorgeous, bare feet, stringy damp hair, ripped Chanel dress and shadowed eyes. She looks like a movie. Like Marilyn Monroe or Greta Garbo. He doesn't think he has ever wanted her so much.
''You're a foolish idiot,'' he rasps out.
''That's redundant,'' she informs him crisply, stepping further into the room. ''And I'm not the one in the hospital with a broken arm, a mild concussion and multiple contusions, dumbass.''
''I saved your life,'' he counters hotly.
''Who asked you to?''
''Who else would have?''
She drops her heels and places her hands on her hips, something she has done so many other times. ''I don't like you.''
''I don't like you either,'' he says. ''I just - ''
''Wait!'' She holds her hand up. ''Don't say it.'' She bites down on her lip nervously and ducks her eyes. It's the first time she's let herself show him how scared she really is. Love shouldn't exist anywhere near her and love should never have come into her life like this. But we don't always get what we want. We get what we need. She edges forwards and then slowly, hesitantly slips right next to him in the hospital bed. She breathes deeply, dress hiked up enough to show off her thighs. ''...Okay,'' she tells him while he runs his hand up and down her bare leg. ''Go ahead. Say it.''
''All right then. Ella...I don't like you. I find you rude, obnoxious, loud and really fucking annoying.'' He offers her something of a smile, reaching up to brush hair from her eyes. ''I just love you.''
''Well,'' she says stiffly, curling her legs under her and threading her arm through his good arm. ''I don't like you either. You're incredibly off putting. And you with hold sex, which is just cruel and not funny at all. But I think I might love you too.'' She frowns, turning her head towards him. ''I'm still not sure how I feel about that, just so you know.''
''That's all right. You'll learn.''
She smiles at him, and he wonders why she doesn't do that more often. It's so beautiful. He might be a little biased though. ''And are you going to be the one to teach me?''
He lifts his good shoulder in a shrug. ''Why the hell not? I've got nothing better to do. Hey,'' he leans back against the pillow. ''Tell me you love me again, pretty girl.''
''Don't push your luck.''
''I brought flowers!''
''...Why?''
Clay shrugs and places the vase of orchids on the table near the hospital bed. ''I dunno. Seemed like the thing to do at the time. Everyone brings flowers. It was peer pressure,'' he decides with a curt nod. ''Everyone was doing it.''
''If everyone jumped off a bridge, would you?''
''Yes, I would.''
''Morbid.''
''Yeah, and you're Mr. Sunshine.''
''I'm allergic to orchids,'' Tom deadpans.
Clay looks back and forth between Tom and the orchids. ''...Are you joking right now?''
''Do I look like I'm joking?''
''You only have one expression. How am I supposed to know if you're joking or not?''
''I feel a sneeze coming on.''
''You two should do stand up,'' Ella says from behind her fashion magazine. She looks over the page briefly to send them a dry smirk as Clay dutifully moves the orchids away from Tom and his sensitive allergies.
''That'll be plan B,'' Tom says plainly. ''You know, if this whole hunting evil thing doesn't pan out.''
Clay drops into a chair beside the bed with a wide smile and an oddly contented sigh. Ella and Tom look at him with identical non expressions on their faces. ''What the fuck?'' Ella blurts out. ''Is that peppy smile freaking painted on your face, Clay?'' She flicks to the next page in her magazine. '' 'Cause it's fucking creepy.''
''I've been thinking,'' Clay responds, reaching for the jell-o cup beside the pitcher of water.
''Touch it and you pull back a bloody stump, Miller,'' Tom warns.
Clay wisely retracts his hand. ''And I think,'' he continues. ''That we make an awesome team.''
Ella drops her magazine and untangles her legs from Tom's. ''Oh, you do, do you?''
''Yes.'' Clay nods matter-of-factly. ''I think we should have t-shirts made up. And we should have a catchphrase and merchandise. Think about it, guys, our lives could be a TV show. I can see it now.'' He beams, eyes twinkling. ''The Adventures of Clay Miller...and friends.''
''I'll be sure to get right on that,'' Tom says, sending him the thumbs up. ''I'll call my agent tomorrow.''
''Well, first of all,'' Ella says, ''that sounds like a Saturday morning cartoon for toddlers. And second of all, I'm the star. I'm always the star.'' She frowns at them both like she is genuinely worried for their mental health. ''Haven't you boys learned that? And third of all,'' she sends Clay a nasty smirk. ''Your name is stupid.''
Clay gasps in protest.
''I'm going to need more morphine if I'm supposed to deal with you two,'' Tom says with a shake of his head.
''But seriously,'' Clay goes on; voice nearly a whine for attention as he slides forwards in his seat. ''We're badass. We kick evil's ass and we...we takes names and - ''
''And I look good doing it,'' Ella says, flipping her hair over her shoulder.
''Just you?''
''Uh...yeah.''
''We have good repartee too,'' Clay says. ''We've got good chemistry. We're fun people.''
''Uh-huh.'' Ella slips out of the hospital bed and smoothes down her wrinkled dress. ''Hey, listen,'' she stands on her tip toes to drape her arm around Clay's shoulder. ''I've been thinking too. And I think that you should get lost and go back to the motel so I can go down on my new boyfriend. He is in the hospital, remember? He needs cheering up.''
''Um, ew.'' Clay grimaces. ''I think we've discovered the definition of over sharing.''
''But isn't it sweet that she's concerned for me?'' Tom asks. ''Now you're getting it, Elle. This love thing ain't so bad, huh?''
''Now that you two are a couple,'' Clay frowns and gestures between them. ''Are you going to start neglecting me?''
''Okay, you're not a dog,'' Ella mutters. ''How much attention do you need?''
''A lot,'' Tom cuts in.
''Hey, I just realized something.'' Clay's eyes widen in mock concern. ''You're both extremely volatile people - ''
''You're just realizing that?'' Ella asks, tapping her foot impatiently. ''Don't procreate, Clay.''
''What happens if you two break up? Who gets custody of me?''
There's a beat of silence and then Ella smiles calmly and perches on the edge of the hospital bed, crossing one leg over the other. ''Not it.''
''Damn,'' Tom grumbles.
Clay shakes his head sadly. ''You wound me.''
Ella looks at him, looks at Tom and then smiles. Only Tom is aware of how dangerous those smiles can truly be. They're like harbingers of destruction, for Christ's sake. ''Oh, honey,'' she coos, patting Clay's back. ''You know we adore you. But listen,'' she begins to steer him towards the door. ''Right now Mommy and Daddy need some time to themselves so...how's about you go down to the cafeteria and get yourself some jell-o so you don't have to attempt to steal some.''
''You want me to leave.''
''I thought that was pretty clear, yes. FYI, this is gonna go down - and by this, I mean I am going to go down on him - whether you're in the room or not so make a decision quickly before you are scarred for life, mmkay?''
Clay looks back and forth between Tom and Ella with a defiant frown. ''I think you're bluffing.''
''Okay then. Stick around and see what happens.''
Clay swings his gaze to Tom, who waves at him with a downright giddy smile, something extremely uncharacteristic for him considering his usual blank and emotionless persona. He must be real excited about his in hospital treat. ''...Group hug before I leave?''
Ella takes a step towards him.
''Okay! Okay! I'm leaving. Geez.''
She watches him stumble out of the room with a scowl tossed over his shoulder and a small laugh bubbles up in her throat. Turning, she sends a coy smile in Tom's direction, waggling her fingers in a half wave. ''Well,'' she says lowly. ''Hello.''
He crooks his finger towards her, beckoning her closer. ''Hello.''
This is not a love story.
It is a story for which no other words exist but the ones written in stone. It's a story of patterns and maps and cycles and soul mates. You could live in any universe in the world and you'd still find the people you were meant to be with. People fall and stumble and trip into what is meant to be theirs. They follow roads and paths they are meant to follow with their hearts.
So, no. This is not a love story. It's a story of circumstance and the rules of your heart and what is meant to be.
It is all something neverending and forever, you see.
It is just the way of the world.
end
AN: What the hell was that? I don't even know.