Round and Round

Part 21

At least the pig had a decent collection of reading material. If Arthur was going to be stuck on the bastard's couch until his leg healed, then he'd better have something to entertain himself.

Bastard almost completely forgot to leave him something, too. He'd started walking towards the door, turned around last minute to glance at him, and then seemed to finally remember that Arthur couldn't fucking move or do anything. So he'd walked over to the pile of boxes, grabbed one, and set it beside the couch. "You can read any of these if you want." And then grabbed the remote off the top of the telly and set it on top of the box. "Or watch TV. Sorry I don't really have anything else."

Arthur was about to cuss the bastard out for that, but then he caught the warning look from Johnson. And shut his mouth, scowled, and then turned his head away in a dismissive gesture.

The pigs had left after that, Leon saying something about how he wouldn't be gone long. Leaving Arthur alone...

It hadn't taken long before he gave in and opened the box. Just because he was bored and not because he was actually curious about what books the pig owned.

It was filled with an assortment of well-worn paperbacks. Looked second-hand... A pretty nice assortment, actually. Dickens, Chandler, Doyle, Fleming, Shakespeare, among many others. And then a few magazines that were filled with pictures of guns, some with notes made next to them in neat, clear handwriting.

He was a little surprised when he glanced up, about halfway through Hamlet, to see that almost three hours had passed since he'd started reading...

So much for not being gone long.

Although he could now hear footsteps outside, the sound had probably been what had initially broken him from his reading. And then the sound of a key turning in the lock.

And then the pig came inside, arms loaded with plastic grocery bags. He immediately walked over to the coffee table, setting the bags on top. "Sorry I was gone for so long... I just had to get food and everything. And a new cell phone. And I got some crutches for you; I thought it might help, since I doubt that you want to be stuck on that couch the entire time you're here..."

He wasn't really paying all that much attention to Arthur; instead, he dug through the bags and set various food items on top of the table. Cans of soup, lunch meat, bread, a couple boxes of tea, various vegetables and fruits, milk... All sorts of things.

And then he glanced up after a moment, looking slightly nervous. "If you want something specific, I could go get it after work tomorrow. I wasn't sure what you like and I didn't think to ask before I left—I've never been a picky eater, so..."

And he was rambling again. He really needed to get rid of that habit at some point. It was kind of annoying.

But then, something caught Arthur's eye. A mark on the back of the pig's hand. Numbers, it looked like? They were rather faint, like he had attempted to rub them off or something like that. But they were definitely still noticeable.

Huh. That was interesting. Arthur's attention was now fixated on that mark. He just needed to hold still long enough for him to read the numbers.

Which, unfortunately, was easier said than done. Since he also seemed to move around a lot more when he was rambling. "I should call the school for you and tell them that you're going to be out for a few days... Maybe somebody can bring your homework? Or I could go pick it up, I guess. And then, I'll call your parents. I'll need their number, though."

Weirdly enough, he was now sorting the items out on the table in movements that seemed almost entirely unconscious. Why in the world was he even sorting them out here anyway? Wasn't that what the kitchen was for? Unless he was doing it out here so he could watch Arthur for some reason?

"Why the fuck would I want you to call them?" His hand movements had at least slowed enough so he could see that the first three numbers were 483.

And then his movements finally stopped completely, as he sighed. Almost sounding irritated. "Look, they need to know that you're safe. They're probably worried about you..."

"So?" 483...27 Was that an 8 or a 3? It looked more like an 8. And then...

...Oh...

Ugh. Why the fuck was Francis's number on the pig's hand?

...Looked like Francis had been successful in his goal. It would explain why the hell the pig had been gone for so long.

"They're your parents." He was still talking, now packing one of the piles of cans back into one of the bags. "They have the right to know your whereabouts and what happened to you. I don't want them to think that you're dead or injured or anything when you're sitting in my living room, completely fine. I'll make sure that they understand that you'll be better off here, if that makes you feel any better."

Arthur really really disliked this bloody git. He was a fucking goody-goody. Well, besides the fact that he was apparently fucking Francis. But, then again, pretty much everybody fucked Francis at one time or another. As soon as Francis set his sight on someone, it was almost a guarantee that they'd end up between the sheets at some point or another.

And now Leon picked up the bag of cans, starting to walk back to the kitchen...

"So, did he give you a handjob or blowjob?"

And proceeded to drop the rather heavy bag with a very satisfying crash.

Spinning around in the same motion, looking completely confused and shocked. "Wha—what?" Before his gaze flickered down to his hand and then he paled a little bit. "Oh, no. No way... That's not."

"I don't give a fuck if you did." Arthur rather enjoyed the expressions of horror that were crossing over the older male's face. He leaned his head back against the couch's armrest, watching him through narrowed eyelids. "Although, if you end up coming back here and fucking where I can hear you, then I'll fucking kill both of you. That's the last thing that I want to listen to when I'm trying to sleep."

Leon's cheeks were turning an interesting shade of red. And he was just standing there, looking completely horrified. Then he shuddered. "No. Absolutely not. I ran into him while I was looking for a car and he just... He startled me and then wrote his number on my hand for some reason. That's all. There is no way that I would—"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Well, then you should just call him and get it over with. Francis isn't going to let up on you until you agree to sleep with him. He loves guys who play hard to get; he says that it's more entertaining if the person is a difficult catch. And he says that they're usually much better in bed."

He'd never understood why Francis enjoyed making things more difficult for himself like that. If Arthur was going to screw around with some random chick—and he preferred chicks; he only slept with guys when he was drunk off his arse—then he'd pick the easiest one he could find. Francis, on the other hand, seemed to love attempting to pick up older men. He'd pick one out of the crowd and then concentrate all of his attention on pursuing him until he inevitably gave in...

Of course, he would still sleep around with various girls and guys their own age, but Arthur felt like that was more for appearance's sake than out of any real desire for them.

And Leon still looked utterly horrified by his statement. Which probably meant that he was telling the truth and he and Francis hadn't done anything together.

He yawned, picking up his book again and returning to where he'd left off. "Don't ask me what the fuck he sees in you. Francis has always had weird taste..."

"An—anyway!" And now he seemed to be attempting to change the subject, crouching down to pick up the cans that had spilled onto the floor. "Anyway, I should call your parents..."

"284-3455. That's Maxen's cell. If you're going to talk to one of those bastards, then it might as well be him."

"Your brother?"

"Step-brother." That bastard's kids. "He's the only one that isn't a complete wanker." Since he actually left him alone for the most part.

Arthur was always getting into fights with the other two. Duncan, because the two of them both had rather nasty tempers and would resort to violence in the blink of an eye. And Seamus, because the bastard was always asking where he'd been, what he'd been doing... It was none of his business. They weren't his real brothers; they'djust waltzed right into his home like they belonged there.

"Okay." And Leon was still standing in the doorway, watching him with a curious expression. Arthur scowled back in response, but he didn't move. "Do you want me to make you lunch or anything? I'm sure you must be hungry..."

And his stomach of course chose to growl at those words. Damn it. An amused smirk crossed over the pig's lips at the sound, although he didn't comment.

"Nothing big. Maybe some soup?"

It was starting to really get on Arthur's nerves. Why the fuck was this bastard so fucking nice? Seriously, if some bastard had been talking to him like he'd been talking to the pig, then he'd have kicked him out. Broken leg or no broken leg.

Actually, he'd probably have made sure that his leg was broken before kicking him out.

Maybe the pig was a masochist.

"I don't give a fuck."

And he didn't even visibly respond to that, just turned and walked back into the kitchen. Returning in a few minutes to grab the rest of the bags.

Arthur watched him—didn't really have anything else to do—waiting until his hands were full again before suddenly remarking, "When you two do start fucking, you're probably going to need your handcuffs."

He didn't drop any of the bags this time. Disappointing. One of them was holding eggs, so he'd been hoping that at least that one would fall. Instead, he just flashed Arthur a semi-irritated glare.

"I told you, I'm not interested..."

"Francis always gets what he wants," he enjoyed irritating the pig. And it was safe. Actually destroying his possessions or hurting him physically would probably end up with Johnson severely pissed off, but just annoying the pig wasn't going to do lead to anything that Johnson could hurt him for. "And he doesn't let anyone top during sex unless they can overpower him. So you're going to want to bring along your handcuffs."

"Is there a reason for that?" And he actually sounded a little curious, which wasn't really the reaction that Arthur had wanted.

So he just rolled his eyes and returned to his book. "I don't know. Why would I care why he does anything? I was just giving you some fucking advice. Take it or leave it."

For a minute, he just stood there. Probably watching him. Arthur was determinedly glaring at the book, so he couldn't actually see what he was doing. And then there was a soft sigh and the bastard finally left.

Ugh... He needed to get out of here as soon as fucking possible.

A/N: Not an incredibly important chapter. Arthur's still being rather jerkish. Although not quite as jerkish as before. Yay! It's a teeny tiny step in the right direction!

And, in case anyone was confused. Leon did take the car. Since he wasn't really sure what else he could do with it... (Slash, he does need a car, and it's okay if it's just borrowing it for a little while, right? Right...)

And for those who were confused about last chapter. Yes, Big Mike was well-aware that Gill was talking about Leon her grandson. Her reasoning for why she didn't just tell them? She's Big Mike! She loves messing with people's heads! Just because Gilly is her partner-in-crime doesn't mean that she is exempt from the head-messing. Plus, it's more fun to watch and see how long it takes SOMEONE to make the connection.