Hi, yeah I know, you guys are probably freaking out for the lack of updates. Me and my doc are still trying to figure out what meds work for me and which don't. Suffice it to say, I didn't feel like writing. Or doing much of anything really. And that's not taking into account my gaming binges that I have occasionally. (Lotro, Woot!) Umm, lets see, I have taken this time to think up more scenes which is awesome for you guys if only I could get in the mood to write.
To those who might not know, writing takes a certain mood for me. I have to be in the right mental space to mentally flim, create, and map out dialogue. It takes a lot of thinking. And it doesn't work good when you have mental fog from the wrong meds. :-) Fact: Creative people (artists, musicians, proffessional writers) use the Left side of their brain. Logic, strategy, ect, comes from the Right side of the brain. Most people use one or the other. Imagine, for a second, if you normally use your Right side for 90% of your day, turning on the less used Left side. In extreme terms, and I mean no offence to anyone, its like making a marine strategist into a free-love splatter-paint artist hippy. At the drop of a hat. :D
Enough about me and my moods, let's get on with the list of those who reviewed last time:
ozlady80 Guest X
Mals86 ConsistentlyRandom21
Nik216 hidansgirl1234
analuziamira NoFate2608
Gottobejulie
For those of you who did not review: YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE...
Also, I am kind of leaving you guys on a tiny bit of a cliffhanger. TRY NOT TO FREAK OUT! The "bleep" has not hit the fan.
Paddy sat in the diner booth and watched his youngest son saunter in and plop down in the booth across from him, fiddling with a toothpick and an empty expression on his face. Deja Vu. His son wore faded jeans, a long sleeve tee shirt in navy, a grey hoodie, and his worn Carhartt. His beanie in black was pulled down to his eye brows and over his ears. His half finger gloves frayed on their worn edges. Paddy took a deep breath and steeled himself for the impending argument, sucking in the greasy scent of hamburgers and the burnt smell of the coffee next to him.
"What am I doin' here, Pop?" Tommy grumbled with a frown. Paddy watched his son make the same facial expression he had caught himself making on occasion. The one where he flares his nostrils and pulls his upper lip down to include it in the frown. One of many things he learned from me. Paddy munched on a french fry to distract himself from thinking of a long list of things he hoped he never taught his son to do. "As per your instructions, I should be resting."
Paddy ignored the stares the other patrons were giving his son. It was a Saturday just after the noon rush and Tommy looked really bad from his fight. His bottom lip had a shallow spilt in it, bruising along his jaw, his left eye was almost completely swollen shut. He moved with the carefulness of someone waiting for pain to stab them when they least expect it. But what worried Paddy the most was the smell of whiskey on his breath. He could smell it from across the table. Paddy brought his coffee cup up under his nose so that the smell didn't trigger a craving for the liquor.
"You gotta cut the shit, Tommy." Paddy growled. He watched Tommy's eyes tense in as much of a scowl as he could manage. Tommy turned his head and angrily spun the toothpick in his mouth.
"I don't know what you're talkin about." Tommy said with a shrug.
"Don't play babe in the woods. You know what I am talkin' about. The drinking has got to stop. And you are gonna cut it out before Noemi comes back." Paddy's ire rose while Tommy continued to ignore him. Paddy put his coffee cup down. "Tommy." He said, trying the nice way to get his son's attention. "Tommy, look at me." Paddy tried getting more insistent. Tommy seemed to be ignoring him out of spite and it launched Paddy's temper. Paddy slammed his hand down on the Formica table top, jarring the plate and silverware, and making a loud clank that silenced the diner. But Paddy's ire did not notice these things. "Damnit boy, you will look at me when I am talking to you!" Paddy snarled viciously.
In the silence that followed, Paddy noticed many things. The first one being that Tommy's head whipped around as though jet propelled. The second was that Paddy was taken back decades with the expression in Tommy's eyes. For those few seconds, Paddy did not see his thirty-something year old son but Tommy when he was but a kid. Small enough to still pick up and toss over his head. Stormy blue eyes filled with fear. Fear of his own father. It stabbed at Paddy and he realized what he just did. As Tommy's eyes went from childhood fear to burning hate, Paddy knew he lost what little ground he had made in the past few weeks with his son.
"Tommy, you gotta stop drinking." Paddy said as softly as he could with a voice like his. Tommy pulled his lips back into a distorted sarcastic smile.
"That's rich comin' from you." Tommy sneered.
"You have to stop before Noemi comes back." Paddy tried.
"You lost the privledge to lecture me on what I should and shouldn't be doin' a long time ago."
"You are still my son. You don't want to go down that road. Nothing good lies at the end of it." Paddy sighed. "I can't lie to her much longer. I won't."
"What's she got to do with it?" Tommy said frowning.
"She is your manager. She has everything to do with it. You cut that shit out before she gets back to the Burgh and it stays between you and me." Paddy offered as a form of truce.
"You know what, Pop. Fuck you." Tommy said before getting up and striding out. Paddy sat there and blinked, not knowing what he did to deserve the last bit. Paddy sat back and stared blankly at the empty booth across from him, wondering what went so wrong.
The Offspring - Million Miles Away
"...Each passin' day, Every passin' face, Seems like such a gloom, I love to be, Home silently, Lyin' next to her, Just to get back, By her side is all, All I need to be, I went away, What I really lost, Left behind was me..."
Tommy sat in Noemi's car staring through the rain beating at the shell of the car. The engine was off as he stared at the liquor store on the other side of the windshield. His hands were tight on the steering wheel. Tommy was fighting the desire to go into the store and do exactly what Pop didn't want him to do.
But he just couldn't take the silence of the apartment without something to dull the emptiness. He grimaced, causing pain to flash through his swollen face. He was pissed that Pop had the brass ones to tell him that he shouldn't be drinking. He wanted to go and get completely shit-faced just for that reason. But he knew that was just the 14 year old in him that wanted to rebel.
But he also knew that Pop was right, which mentally chaffed. His conscience and reasoning was starting to sound more and more like Brendan and Noemi, which didn't help matters since it only made him miss them more.
Tommy rested his head on the edge of the steering wheel and sighed. He didn't really want to drink. But he couldn't take his memories. Or the oppressive absence of Noemi. He never knew how much she affected him until now. Her being gone and not having the sound of her laptop playing music he had never heard or the sounds of her in the kitchen making more food or her voice ringing through the apartment to tell him something or her laughter when she talked to Kevin on the phone. Nor was there the wafting scents of home cooked food lunch and dinner. He missed the clouds of vanilla that rode the billows of steam from her showers. He missed seeing her dance around her bedroom on nimble feet while putting her laundry away. He missed the pile of clothes she would leave in the bathroom by the shower and how she never picked up the bath mat after using it. He missed her demands that he tell her what he wanted for dinner or lunch. He missed her nagging him about getting good sleep and if he was getting along with Pop. Most of all he missed knowing she was there and that if the memories and nightmares got to be too much, he could go to her and she would make it better.
She wouldn't want me drinking. But I can't help myself. If she was here, I could fight it better. But she isn't and I can't do this. Not by myself. Tonight will be the last. Shit, I am just like Pop. How many times did I hear him telling Ma that? Too many times. Fuck, I am weak.
Tommy opened the car door and went into the liquor store.
Tommy stumbled down the hallway and stared into Noemi's empty bedroom. He stood gently weaving from side to side as though standing on the deck a boat in a storm with a bottle of rum in one hand. The invisible waves over came him as he tumbled shoulder first into the door frame with a startled chuckle. Damn, should have been drinkin' rum sooner. This shit's good. He had long since shed his clothes around the apartment like a mix between a drunk easter bunny and a molting snake.
Tommy missed Noemi too much for their casual arrangement and he knew it. He knew that he had been fighting against his feelings for her for a while but the rum made them seem acceptable. The rum also made it seem perfectly normal for him to go into said room and dive face first into her sheets in his boxer briefs. Oh, fuck, so good. His chest rumbled against the mattress as the natural scent of her filled his sinuses and caused him to growl in happiness. When the sheets and pillow started to suffocate him, he turned to his side, snatching the pillow from its place and curling around it.
It didn't take long before his eyes slid shut. But just before they did, Tommy had a feeling tickling the back of his mind that told him he would dream of her. And that she wouldn't be the innocent good girl she seemed to be.
As he drifted off to sleep, the almost empty bottle of rum slipped from his loosening fingers and dropped to the floor. It's landing was cushioned by a pair of her jeans, half kicked under the bed.
She knew she was dreaming by the fact that the features she knew so well were indistinct, though his body was just as it always looked. She knew she was dreaming when Tommy prowled closer to her on the black leather mat with a look in his eyes that scorched her. It was in the steel mill and she wore what she had for the photo shoot and so was he.
Her stomach and core clamped with anticipation as he stalked closer to her, all wide shoulders and swagger. She barely shivered with indecsicion. Her instincts screamed at her to go to him and to run from the strong daunting male coming for her. It was that mineut amount of fear in her that made the experience delicious and her blood to pool between her legs. Her skin felt sticky with sweat and everything seemed too hot. Her breathe coming out in shallow pants of anticipation.
Tommy growled as he grabbed for her, taking her down to the mat before she knew what had happened, him nestled between her thighs, both of them naked as could be. He is going to devour me. Oh god yes. And with that he was sliding into to her, filling her perfectly and making her body sing with sensation. He was growling with each firm thrust while Noemi's voice sang out in pleasure, silently.
Noemi was happily limp to his ministrations and did not fight when he pulled out and flipped her over, only to pound into her with more force. It was never like this with anyone else. They weren't him. Tommy was arched over her body with his lips huffing against her right ear, his tight stomach and haired chest brushing against her back. So close. I can feel his breath.
Tommy pulled her up and back so that she was spread on his lap while seated firming inside her, sitting back on his heels. His mouth ghosted along her ear, almost nuzzling her while letting out growling huffs, as a hand left its hold on her waist and slipped down her belly to her button of nerves that was only a couple of flicks away from releasing.
"Noemi, come for me."
Noemi lurched awake, her neck damp and tingling. Her ear buzzed where she would have sworn he had just spoken into. She took a deep breath and blinked to calm herself. The hair on the back of her neck was raised and she shook with adrenaline. It had sounded so real. Felt real.
She looked at the clock on the nightstand of the guest room with a sigh. It was much to early but nothing could be helped. She knew she wasn't going to sleep now. Kevin is probably up. I could call him. Maybe he will be willing to drive me back to Pittsburgh.
She swung out of the bed and decided to shower before calling him. She smiled past her clogged nose and sore throat at the gift basket Frank and Jessa had gotten her as a thank you.
I hate being sick.
"Noemi." Kevin turned from the road and looked at his best friend with a scowl. "Hey, are you even listening to me?"
"Huh?" Noemi responded, turning her head from watching the passing trees near the side of the highway. She was sick and feeling awful but her mind was purely occupied on Tommy, now that Jessa was making a solid recovery.
"Jesus, Noemi. I've been talking for like an hour. Did you listen to any of it?" Kevin said, frowning angrily at her with his blue eyes on the road and his hands clenching the steering wheel.
"I'm sorry Kevin. I've just got a lot on my mind." Noemi mumbled tiredly. She had been hardly sleeping and hardly eating and hardly resting. She knew that between OCD-ing on Frank's house and the germ factory in the elevator, she was bound to get sick and feel like crap. She knew that even though Tommy was an adult and perfectly capable of keeping the apartment tidy, she knew her job wasn't done. She was just trading Jessa and Frank for Tommy and Paddy. She didn't know how she was going to manage doing her laundry and making food with how she was feeling.
She thought to herself; her ill mind whirling as fast as it could over her current concerns. Has Tommy eaten enough in her absence? Did he have any nightmares? Would he tell her if he had? Why had she hardly heard from him this week? Were his bruises healed? Was he still hurting? What if he had serious injuries no one noticed in the rush? What if he was sick and that was why she hadn't heard from him? No, Paddy would know if Tommy was sick. He would have told me. Is Jessa right? Am she falling for Tommy? What about Fen? What should she do about him? Is she even sure that they are not compatible? What if she gets Tommy sick? It will put a damper on his training and then there is the fight in a week and a half to think of. What if she gets him sick with whatever plague this is and he has to back out of the fight? If she does think she loves Tommy, can she bear to watch him fight? To watch him get hurt? Am I strong enough for that? Will I break under the strain?
"For fuck's sake, Noemi! For once, can we focus on someone but yourself!?" Kevin growled viciously. Noemi's head snapped around with a hurt frown.
"What's that mean?" Noemi asked fuzzily. Her words and brain seemed to be working as slow as cold molasses while everything around her was at turbo speed.
"It means that I would like my best friend to actually give a shit about some of my problems for once. Instead of only talking to me to complain about how guys just throw themselves at your feet."
Noemi temper lurched to life. "Like you're one to point a finger." She snarled defensively.
"Oh screw you, Noemi! For once, I want you to listen to me and help me out and you leave me hangin' for whatever is more important rattling around in your head. How many times to I have to repeat to you that I met a girl and wanted your advice!?"
"What's the problem? You meet and bang chicks all the time. Didn't seem to have a problem when I lived with you." Noemi growled back, feeling attacked. I thought I was a good friend. What the fuck?
"Classic!" Kevin yelled, eyes on the road, punctuating it with a palm to the steering wheel. "So that's what you really think of me? I swear to god Noemi, it's like we are strangers!"
"Jesus, Kevin! Male PMS much? God forbid I space out from time to time. I have been working my ass to the bone this week. I have hardly slept, I feel like zombie chow, and now this? You accuse me of not knowing you!?"
"You should know your best friend good enough to know he is not a fucking man-whore! But no! You don't because you are such a fucking cunt all the time, bitching about little stupid shit and getting your ass in a wad over things most people ignore! But no! Those are the things you take offense at and go to me to be your bitching bag. Complaining about who's head you bit off now and who you're pissed at now because they said hello wrong!" Kevin hollered, his face turning red and spittle flying from his mouth. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel and he was speeding.
Noemi flinched at his words. She had never seen him so mad. She couldn't remember the last time he had used 'The C-word' whether in anger or not. It took her breath away that she was the cause of him saying it and his feeling abandoned in their friendship. How long has he felt this way? How long has he kept silent? Why has he never said anything? Why has he not stopped me and made me listen? Noemi blinked away her welling emotions. What have I done?
"But..." She said softly, trying to understand.
"No! Just shut up for once! It's my turn!" Kevin yelled. "I have only slept with a handful of women, you having been one of them. You should know I wouldn't just dick around with anybody. I mean come on, Noemi. We were each other's firsts and have known each other since kindergarten. You should know me well enough to know that I am not that kind of guy."
"Kevin, we were 15. Things change." Noemi said gently now that his anger was abating.
"Yeah, some. Not me. I am still that kid with the big glasses and shaking hands because I saw boobs. And you should know that. You are my best friend. You should know that, but you don't, because you disappear each time a new dude comes into your life and sucks up all your time. Then when they turn out to be a dick, like I warned you they were, I am the one picking up the pieces. I am the one that gets to clean up the mess so your brother doesn't find out how big you fucked up this time."
"Kevin, I'm..."
"No. Sorry ain't gonna fix it this time, Noemi." Noemi's eyes welled as Kevin's words sunk in. He ran a hand through his auburn hair and sighed. "Her name is Sarah. She works in the Lab at the hospital. We have so much in common. She is so perfect and smart and beautiful. She isn't hollow like those other girls who only see me for my paycheck and can't understand what's is so awesome about Lord of the Rings. She is a nerd like me but she is just so perfect and it scares the shit out of me. So I ask you what you think since you are the only chick but my mom I know and here you are sitting there ignoring me."
"I wasn't ignoring you. I was just..."
"Yeah, off in la-la land. I get it, but honestly Noemi, how often do I go to you with my problems. Did you even know that I've been talking to Sarah for weeks now?" Kevin asked, looking away from the highway for a second only to see Noemi shake her head. He sighed.
"But the noises, when I was staying at your apartment..."
"Was me watchin' porn, god for-fuckin'-bid." Kevin said, turning back to the road.
"So, do I get to meet her? Or...?" Noemi asked quietly. She was still reeling from the verbal blows.
"Not yet, Noemi. I don't want you fucking it up." Kevin said bluntly. Noemi winced. "You can be such a goddamn bitch sometimes. Half the time you don't even know you're doing it but when you do, everyone can tell that you don't care."
Noemi felt like someone had sucker punched her. Her breath left her and she wondered if that was just Kevin in a mood or if he truely felt that way. She didn't know how to feel and it was so much to take in. Noemi's eyes welled reflexively. She looked up at the road in hopes of keeping the tears in if she had her face tilted up instead of at her hands. She looked out the windshield of the tiny silver Celica, just in time for her stomach to drop out.
The silver Sentra next to them, swerved around some unseen obstical in the road and appeared to be heading straight for Kevin's corner of the car.
"Fuck!" Kevin yelled, his body responding to the danger without him thinking. Noemi braced herself against the passenger door and waited for the impact.
Sorry about the C-word. It won't likely happen again. I don't see the need to use it again. Blame the movie Bronson(with TH). He says it about 5 billion times. If you like violence and have a twisted sense of humor, greatly suggested. Also has lots of buff TH full frontal, for those of you who want to see that much of him, lol. Good for fixing squeamishness over naked men and the c-word. I thought it was hilarious, myself. But we knew at least something was wrong with me. :-)
SPEAK UP IF YOU HAVE QUESTIONS OR SUGGESTIONS. I am also, still taking scene requests, if anyone feels so inspired. I got one suggestion and am planning on fitting it in since it was a simple request. Also:
REVIEW OR DIE! Frank commands it.
