"There's no I in 'team'," Robin pointed out, starting to get up, "There's an I in 'intercourse', 'iniquity', 'illegal', 'intoxication', and did I mention 'intercourse'? But there is no I in 'team'. And I'm all about the I, which means that I will see you later."
"There's an I in 'I'll kick your ass', so sit down," I ordered darkly. "Maybe if you're lucky and finish sobering up, we'll tag your ass and turn you loose to the wild."
Dark eyes cut themselves in my direction, but not with enough bite to scare me. Those lips though twisted back, into a mock snarl. Regarding me with those hard puck eyes, he turned back forwards, a pout full on his lips as he leaned forward in his seat, letting out a loud breath.
"But, Cal-"
"All right. Who sounds like the whiny bitch now?" I countered, getting my ass up from my perpetual spot on the couch as this interrogation was going. Mentally and physically drained, I was forced to deal with Robin, the devil in flesh. The most fiendish demon, with fire blazing from his quickening lips; a car salesman. Worse, a used car salesman.
The room was quiet as he didn't have a retort back to that. His face seemed to look as if it were mulling through motions, so I kept my mouth quiet, as I padded over to the fridge, to pop it open with my foot, seeing what goodies lay inside of the cold incubator. Pulling out white cartons of Chinese chicken and noodles, I shrugged to myself. Pulling the drawer open, I popped out two forks popped them in the cartons and sat my ass back on the sofa to regard the puck sitting in front of me.
"You know, you've mastered the art of the whiny bitch, I perfected it. If it doesn't concern me, nor does it mention me, I don't want to know about it." The response came from a sneering set of lips that were regarding the sweet sour smell of the chicken in the acidic container. Heart attack, but at least you went down better than anyone could imagine.
"Yes, we're all quite aware that you yank off to yourself behind closed doors, hell in front of them. Or on the coffee table…" It left a bad taste in my mouth to imagine Goodfellow nude. Repressing a shudder that I didn't want him to see, I shoved more heart attacks into my mouth, savoring the sweet and the tang at the same time. My thought process whirled and went into mode of interrogation.
A slow linguistic grin appeared on the tan face across from me as he leaned in closer, his breath reeking of alcohol. His heavy hand, came to rest itself on my knee and past that, my mind shut down. A blank look on my face, I pulled back from his hand, hid the cowardice of the situation behind a mask of annoyance, "All right, Robin. When's the last time you got laid, cause you're coming onto me. And god knows that would be the last thing in your book you'd resort to ever."
What happened to my brother and his ever, chasing tail? Don't you want to 'rid him of that stick up his ass and replace it with something more enjoyable'?" I quoted him and once again just barely repressed a shudder deep in my skin as I sucked in a deep breath, closing my eyes against the bright lights and the smell of our drinking.
"I gave up on that long ago…" There seemed to be desperation swirling in the green eyes staring across from me, deep in the sights of his soul. Deep where I couldn't reach, but I didn't want to reach anywhere near the puck. He must be tired of having sex, wait no. Pucks don't get tired of sex. They get tired of not having partners that last. Outliving every human being he came in contact with must be lonesome. Not that I would know. I have a rule in life, always keep moving.
This little situation wasn't getting any better… Frowning deeply to myself and forking over my portion, he rested elbows on my knees and looked over at him. I stared deep into his eyes, feeling something in me. Something rose up in me. Frightened, eyes wide, I swallowed that part deep back. Foreign, it didn't feel natural. I wasn't used to having emotions.
Hatred, annoyance and boredom, yes. Those emotions were a given to me any day of the week, but when it came down to the more obtuse emotions like, gratitude, love and frou-frou emotions like that. Those didn't come up in my arsenal of comebacks.
"The only way to redeem this conversation now is to get drunk. Fast." His voice was deep and burdened as he stood up from his seat to go to the liquor cabinet, grabbing the nearest jars he could find and dragging them in all their naked amber, or clear glory to the table in front of us.
The house being quiet for once with Promise and Niko gone, I took in a deep breath and slid off the couch to sit legs crossed under the table we sat at. Robin joined me down on the floor, not being up to his usual self to scowl at the floor and make a comment about the low life we lived at.
"Must I pick lint from this suit that costs more than you can afford in a year?" Ah. And he proves me wrong. Staring up from a bottle, he looked deeply troubled, almost disheveled, and sunken in. His eyes held the green shine of sorrow, and traces of hope. Flickering like a candle to the wind.
"Must I listen to your ass bitching all the time…?" I mumbled, deciding to end this and grab one of the bottles for myself and chugged a good amount. The familiar burn coursed down my throat as the sharp twinge made me coughing up my lungs on the floor. Tears rolling from my eyes and my breath escaping me in wheezes in between my coughing. I had never in all my life tasted something THAT strong.
Sucking in a breath, I groaned out, "Good god, that hit me harder than Nik when I don't do something right." The whooshing in my ears died down and my flushed face could suddenly breathe again. I sat up gingerly at the table, pushing up with my hands to find Robin smirking at me with another bottle in his harsh grasp.
"Best you're ever going to find out there. I'd saved them for an occasion like this." There was that grin, waiting to swallow me up whole, yet again. His eyes sparkled with more energy this time around as he hugged the bottle close to him, as if it was a security blanket. I fingered my Glock with pride and stared down at the bottle.
Bittersweet emotions coiled inside of me. I reached out and took the bottle I'd chugged from and swallowed another large portion. Time sped up, emotions opened up and wounds gushed free.
I'd never thought I'd be talking about something like this. To anyone. Hell, least of likely to Goodfellow. I'd thought I'd talk to Georgie about them, but not the puck. He was the last on my list. Our relationship was strictly caustic insults and quips of fighting with a whole lot of ass saving. Never had I once talked about anything with him, other than his rambles about Einstein being a freak who liked it tied down…
So how we stumbled upon this topic, was all past me. It dawned on me, as the bottle left empty at my feet, that I felt… relaxed. At ease. Hell, I should have taken up drinking forever ago if this is what happened to me. Taking out a breath, I was caught off guard by a well phrased question.
"Have you ever…?" The question tailed off pink lips, dropping to the air to hang there until finished. Curls of deep brown bounced in through as he leaned back. Goodfellow looked across the table at me and caught my eyes. The question was finished in his eyes. Oh, geez.
"Yes, I have had sex, you perverted little piper. With a man? Hell no, I like to strictly put my own penis in vaginas…."
"Ah, so that's why you bump furies with Delilah. And all this time, I thought you swung my way," Robin expelled a sigh as he leaned forward on the table, looking across at me, a gleam in his eye. He licked his lips, slow and sensual as the bottle of whiskey was clutched close to him.
I repressed a shudder that vibrated my whole frame. Sucking in a breath a shook my head and rubbed my blurry temples. "As tempting as that offer sounds, I'll have to decline for the bed in Nik's room. It's calling my name." I mumbled through my fisted hands, the leather jacket I was wearing created creases into my face as I yawned, the liquor setting into my system.
With my blood, it was hard to really get drunk and forget all of life's troubles. God, I wish I could forget everything. Anything and everything.
He must have seen it in my eyes, because he leaned forward with a serious look in his eyes. Sucking in a breath, I regarded him and blinked my heavy lids open. Pushing the bottles out of his way, he let his head flop on the cheap wood as he mumbled his question through it.
"Do you ever…?"
"Huh? What?"
"You know. Do you ever….?"
"Oh, uh. Yeah. I can't help but worry. I'm his deathbed. I know he'll die because of me."
Robin stayed quiet. He couldn't deny it; even he knew it was true. The fact that he stayed this long was amazing in the end. For a puck, it was unusual behavior to travel with anyone, but himself. I felt compassion well up inside of me, before I could even stop it and I was left there, looking at him from across the table, with soft spots for eye. He could see this.
Reaching across the table, his hand faltered. What was he going to do? It seemed to linger there, in mid air as if unsure of what it was going to do. After a moments debating with what looked like his conscious, he set his hand back down on the table and leaned back against the chair behind him, sighing.
"Since when did we get so soft?" he grumbled and I was tempted to answer, but instead I laughed to agree with him. Snorting to myself I shook my head, devoid of an answer. Mumbling to himself, he closed his eyes, not that the conversation had stopped, liquor heavy scented in the air and whirls about our minds.
"Cal?"
I grunted in acknowledgement as I looked up from my fisted hands, the world a little less bright and a little less painful.
"Can I tell you something?" his voice was soft, almost regretful as he asked me of this. I met his eyes and nodded my head, not daring to break what he'd created with my voice of screeching glass.
Sighing to himself, he started, "My life was never a happy one, not even bearable… I've always wished I was somewhere else. Somewhere…. Not here, you know?" I nodded, because I did know. I knew every fucking detail of what he was talking about. Despite the large differences on the outside, Robin and I were similar.
"I fucking searched for years and years for someone, anyone to fill that hole that not even the best of liquor, clothes or women could fill…. I didn't find a damn thing. Not one fucking thing. Then all of a sudden-"
He stopped mid-sentence and looked up locking eyes with me, realizing what he was about to say and shook his head. The air in the room chilled and sizzled at the same time with decision and indecision. I frowned deeply and grumbled, itching the back of my black hair, before pulling the ponytail there to get me thinking. "What the hell are you talking about, Loman?" I grumbled deeply.
His eyes bugged for a couple of seconds, as his pupils were large. Seemingly almost surprised with my outburst. Though he shouldn't be. He knew I was impatient. And deep inside I wanted to know what the hell he was about to tell me about. Not often do I really get to know about Robin. Sure, the fucking details, Mary Antoinette was crazy in bed, yeah, but actual details? No, I never got to hear those. He guarded his secrets zealously, almost as well as I did.
"…Then all of a sudden," he picked up his place effortlessly, glaring the slightest at me and I leaned my elbows against the table, intent on listening and absorbing this time as his greedy eyes turned a softer green and his curls bounced with thought. "Someone appeared to me. Actually, my eyes were clouded. They still are. I wasn't able to see them for who they were. Still not able to see for whom they are hell." He chuckled to himself and shook his head, before going on.
"But, what I wanted to tell you is, that I found someone… Who makes life… if not a little less bearable, but more worth it…?"
"And who the hell is the lucky little freak?" I felt a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach, like I'd just chugged a slurpy on a hot day and I was walking ten miles. Stomach in a knot and my head spinning wasn't the best way to face a deranged car dealer. Sucking in a breath, to steel myself, I struggled to my feet and ran to the bathroom, just in time to throw up my entire stomach, acid and all.
Burning, surging and coursing through my throat, I gagged and choked on my bile as tears streamed down my face. Sweat appeared on my brow and my limbs grew weak. Collapsing onto my knees, I held the bowl as the whole world spun and my heart wrenched itself in my chest. My mind made decisions, biased, whirling in its own genius.
"Cal! Are you ok?" Through the door, I had managed to shut and lock, I could hear, the, if not concerned, conceited voice of Robin as his fist pounded into the door. The smell of my own bile nauseated me as sweat dripped from my nose into the murky, chunky water below.
What the hell was wrong with me? I never threw up, I was healthy all around, thanks to the Auphe blood coursing through my veins and twisting my mind. Looking up from my hands, I grabbed the dingy white towel and held it to my face as I let out a human groan, to alert Robin that I was ok, if not alive.
"I'll call Niko."
"No!" I thundered against the door, before I could even think, throwing it open and leaving myself to the mercy of Robin. Hairs falling from the half-assed ponytail face ten shades of green. Sweat poured off me as I panted, eyes half lidded and a horrid taste in my mouth. Sucking in a breath and leaning against the door, I clumsily shook my head and groaned, "He doesn't need to worry about me all the time. Man up and take care of me." I joked, half heartedly as the room continued to spin.
Robin's brows furrowed as he clasped a hard grip on my shoulders, throwing a distasteful look to the contents of my stomach that I hadn't flushed. He looked into my face, frowning deeply and sighed at whatever he found there. "Look, Cal…"
"What the hell is it this time?" My grip on reality was forming again and the strings to my life were being tied in a tight knot. Pushing myself away from him and back into the bathroom, I flushed the toilet and pushed down the lid, sitting on it and cradling my sweat face into the white towel. I didn't have enough energy to get my ass up and brush mu teeth, but I knew that would come later.
I was expecting Goodfellow's brand of usual ass-ary., but what happened surprised me. They say that whenever you think one thing will happen, the situation turns out to be the exact opposite and it usually didn't turn out right. Because what you always wished for were pleasant, puppy dogs and rainbows. But if you're me, you wish for sarcastic comments quipped with a knock aside my head. What I got was entirely different.
He stormed into the bathroom and dropped himself down onto the side of the tub and stared at me, as if I was the last god damn human on earth. I backed away from his look and frowned deeply to myself. What the hell did he want? Grumbling to myself, I moved just in time to avoid his hand from doing something. God only knows what, but I got up just in time, thank god.
Standing in front of the sink, avoiding my reflection, I picked up the toothbrush and squirted a dollop of toothpaste onto it and lathered it with water, sticking the cleaning tool into my mouth and trying to rid myself of the bad lingering taste in my mouth. Brushing away the bad taste, I had enough grip on reality to look back at Goodfellow, who was still staring at me intently, as if meaning to say something.
Standing back up, Robin moved towards me and slammed the door shut, behind me. My eyes flashed cold and hard. What the hell was the puck thinking? Obviously having a couple of inches of height over me, I glared up at him, ready to face my ground. Ready to kick his ass, if I needed to. I have my knife tucked into my back.
"It's you." His hands were on either side of the door and the wall as I spit into the skin, rinsing my mouth out. First it didn't dawn on me. I spit the liquid out of my mouth and rinsed the brush out, sliding it back into the holder.
"What the hell are you talking about?!" I demanded, angry and irritated. What the hell was he talking about?!
"It's you." He told me through ground teeth as he leaned against the door, his arms looped over his chest and a bittersweet look all over his face. What…? "Don't you get it, Caliban? It's you. It's always been you!"
Wha- Oh. Shit.
"No." That was the first thing uttered out of my mouth. "Nope, it can't be. I don't go ass crazy for crazy orgies. Nor do I hump anything that moves." My heart slammed in my chest. I was trapped. Cornered. This feeling of fear wasn't new to me, but to this situation, I was at a loss as to what to do. What to say. My head swirled with this new information and choked me, drowning me in these feelings I'd never felt before.
Besides, who would want me?
"Don't you dare try to put this on me, Caliban. I sure as hell, am not responsible!" he growled deep in his throat as he slammed the door with his fist, glaring at the dirty linoleum floor, which seemed to be mocking him with its indifference. With my indifference.
I snorted and turned to him, now justified in my own anger, as I slammed my foot into the wall, creating a good crater where my boot used to be. I watched as the wall crumbled into itself, screaming mercy. Drywall fell to the ground with clinks, as I gathered my wits. "You have an option to who you pork, puck. I, however, am not one of them. SO it's not my problem, and I was not the cause. If you can't resist this, then something is seriously fucked up with your inner organ, that you call a heart, that I call a black hole."
I pushed him out of my way, and fled the bathroom, with my tail between my legs. I may have won the battle, but I knew for now, that I'd defiantly not won the war. He'd be back on my case soon enough and I just hoped that I was well enough to keep him back, hold him at bay.