puckandpie | SD: Day 5

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neil

SD: Day 5

Nights here are so much worse.

The days aren't exactly great themselves, but every day as the sun goes down, there's this terrible siren and everyone runs inside, locking up the doors and windows as much as possible. Not that it helps much. This isn't like a zombie movie where the monsters can actually be kept out. They have ways of getting inside.

I'm only alive because of Derek, I'm sure of that much. But even as a werewolf, Derek has to sleep sometimes, too.

It's my turn on the night watch shift. I sit against one wall, right by the door, knife clutched in one hand and listening for any strange sounds.

Derek and Neil are only a few feet away, curled up on the single bed, Derek in his wolf form. It's not the first time he's slept that way and I wonder if it's because letting go of being human helps him feel safer or if it's for our sake, mine and Neil's. Like having an actual guard dog on duty.

Doesn't matter either way as long as he's sleeping. He whines occasionally, clearly caught in some dream, his legs twitching, probably chasing more monsters. Sometimes he growls and it's infrequent enough that I jump almost every time, always suddenly on high alert for something to come bursting through the window or slithering in through the vents.

When I'm not scared, I'm struggling to stay awake though so maybe it's for the best.

I rest my head back against the wall and try to keep my breathing slow and even, the knife rested against my knee, spend hours remembering skating routines I perfected when I was little, running them over and over in my head in an effort to not let my eyes close.

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"Maybe we can't," I said flatly, and it wasn't so much fatalistic as it was resigned. No matter which way I looked at it, I couldn't figure out why Eric and I were there, when all we seemed to do was get in the way. They were Derek's demons, Derek's monsters, and it didn't seem to matter how many of them he killed. They just kept coming.

"I'd heard all of it before, you know. All the shit they've been saying to him. That he's a curse. He said the same to me, once. He thinks he's dangerous."

Somehow, it isn't surprising. Derek's never seemed that morose or disparaging around me, but I haven't known him very long at all, and I'm an employee. I doubt he's ever felt he could really let his guard down around me. Neil knows him a lot better than I do, at least first-hand. All I know is the stuff I've seen on television, the glimpses of his family and his history. It's not like the Derek Hale on my TV ever addressed me specifically to give a rundown on his deepest insecurities.

I consider what Neil's saying for a moment, brow furrowing before I glance over at him. "This probably sounds silly, but do you think they're coming from him? His mind?"

"Does it really matter? They're real, what they're saying to him? He thinks its real. I've tried. It doesn't matter how much I--" I shake my head, thumping it against the wall with a whoosh of a sigh. "He won't listen to me."

I pulled my hand away from his, but I almost immediately missed the warmth.

It doesn't matter, he's right, and I immediately feel stupid for even asking. I slip my hand back toward my stomach when he pulls away, shift to bring my knees up close to my chest, resting the knife on the floor.

"He's listening, I think," I say after a moment, keeping my eyes locked on Derek, still little more than a curled up ball of fur on the bed. "It's just that the other voices are louder. Including his own."

Neil knows that too, I'm sure, so I fall quiet again. Resting my cheek against my knee, I look over at him, taking in the sallowness of his cheeks, the smudge of ash across his face. My own face looks similar, I know. No matter how hard I scrub, the soot doesn't seem to ever want to come off completely. It occurs to me that I don't really know much about Neil. I don't know where he's from or how long he's been here. I don't even know how old he is, though I think he can't be much older than me.

I know he cares for Derek, though.

"You, uhm... you two are really close, aren't you?"

Dragging in a shuddering breath, I shut my eyes. They were burning, my throat was tight, and I couldn't understand why. Scrubbing the back of one hand across my cheeks, I shrugged.

There was a faint scar on my throat, still. The shape of Derek's fangs imprinted there, visible only to someone looking very closely.

"Yeah," I said, teeth worrying my bottom lip. "He knows me." I cleared my throat. "Better than anybody." And maybe that didn't sound like such a big deal, but to me, it was. "Anybody in Darrow, at least."

Staring at Neil, I can't understand how Derek can't see how much people care for him. It's obvious in the broken expression on Neil's face, the worry drawn tight under his eyes, the waver in his breath. And I know he's not the only one. There's Helen and Thomas and every single person who works at the bar. I've met so many people in this town who at least know of him and not a single one has every said a bad word of him.

If only Derek could see it himself.

Though, at the moment, with Derek curled up fast asleep, I feel it's Neil who's more in need of comfort.

So I reach over, my head still resting on my knees as I thread my fingers with his and give a light squeeze. "We won't let anything happen to him," I say even though I know it may well be a promise I can't keep. "Or you. I promise y'all, we'll get through this. Somehow."

Choking out a low laugh, I gave his hand a squeeze in return and said, "Is that optimism or denial?"

With my free hand, I reached over and brushed his hair away from his forehead. Underneath, I could see a peak of his skin color, but otherwise, he was almost completely grey. I knew I looked the same. "We look like we're in a black and white movie."

I don't answer him out loud, partially because it sounds rhetorical, but also because I'm not honestly sure. I want to be optimistic, I need to be for their sakes, but it's getting harder.

But I've never been one for denial either. Or at least I try not to be.

"I'd prefer if it was more Chaplin and less Hitchcock," I reply with a faint laugh of my own, still watching him carefully. Intently. "I'd do almost anything for a warm shower, though. Do you think we'll ever know what it feels like to bathe ever again?"

Goodness, and I once worried about the hygiene of the Samwell Men's Hockey Team.

"This isn't Hitchcock," I said, ruffling a hand through his hair. "This is like, one of those trippy, pre-code expressionist movies. Pre-war, German sci-fi."

There were missing scenes, fragmented dream sequences, nonlinear plots, weird social commentary. Definitely pre-code Europe. I felt like we should've been smoking opium or some shit, to really get the full effect.

At least then we might've had some fun.

"I don't know. I fucking hope so. Derek's starting to smell like dog, even when he isn't one." My lips twitched.

My laugh this time is warmer and a little fuller, though I'm careful to keep quiet enough to not wake Derek. His hand in my hair feels nice, reminds me of Shitty or Holster back home, friendly and teasing, and I feel myself leaning into it, bumping my shoulder against his as I give his other hand another squeeze.

"He can't get fleas, can he?" I ask, already pretty sure of the answer, but glad for the excuse to laugh for a bit. It feels good. Almost better than I imagine a shower would feel right now. "There might be some Lysol hidden in a closet somewhere. We could spray him down while he's sleeping. He'd never know."

"You think he's not going to notice when he wakes up smelling like a hospital," I snorted, cutting the kid a lopsided grin.

"And anybody can get fleas." If not fleas, body lice, and with how long it'd been since we'd all showered, I wouldn't have been all that shocked if we were all infested. Which would've been gross, if I hadn't been so worried about getting killed.

Oh, there's no chance Derek wouldn't notice, but the idea is still fun to think about it. In that way where anything but dying bloody right now is fun to think about.

"Are you speaking from experience?" I ask, grinning at him again and hoping he'll take it as the chirp it's intended to be.

"Sort of," I said, elbowing him lightly in the side. "I know crabs are a bitch to get rid of. Fleas, I wouldn't really know."

For all the embarrassment and frustration those little bastards caused me, I didn't really mind talking about it. It was a thing that happened, and it was over. Things were different.

"You've had crabs?" I ask in genuine surprise, my face stuck somewhere between concern and amusement. "Really? I mean, I know it's a real thing, but I feel like that's just something that happens to people in movies. How do you get rid of them?"

"You shampoo your balls with RID about twenty times," I admitted, rolling my eyes and snorting out a laugh, "My life'd be a shitty movie."

I thought about Wendy, the two of us huddled at the drive-in. Our lives flickering on screen, but only in our imaginations. God's voice on the speakers.

"I fuck guys for money. I used to," I said bluntly, "It's a hazard of the trade."

Edited 2015-11-20 06:26 (UTC)

The image that paints is incredibly clear and I can't help the laugh that bubbles free though I manage to muffle most of it with my hand, shooting a glance at Derek to make sure he's still sleeping soundly.

My smile stills and then fades as he keeps talking, as I realize he's not kidding. "Oh," I say, speechless for a second. I remember a couple of Shitty's old rants about sex work, though most of his those were about women in particular. He'd never really talked about guys and, to be honest, I've never really thought about it myself.

I've always had the feeling that Neil's a lot more knowledgeable about that sort of thing than I am, but I'd never really considered just how far that went. "That's, uhm. Did you-- Was it something you liked?"

"Yeah. It was," I said, but that wasn't the whole story. Not anymore. It wasn't something I could explain to him, though. I didn't mind the kid, and maybe we were even becoming friends, but I wasn't ready to tell him my life's story.

"I was good at it."

Across the room, Derek let out a huff, in his sleep. I froze, waiting for him to wake up, but he settled, his nose buried under one big paw. I wanted to cross the room, to crawl into bed with him, burrow under the dusty sheets and bury my face in his fur. But I'd already had my turn as sleep.

I'm not sure why, but I don't have any trouble believing his claims. Thinking about it makes my cheeks heat up a little though and I feel myself following Neil's gaze toward Derek.

And then my stomach drops out.

"Oh." It comes out soft and stupid and I feel my cheeks flame hotter. Derek has never struck me as the type who wants or needs to pay for sex, but even if that was the never the deal between them, I'm suddenly sure that it's happened. Or maybe it's just a suspicion, but it feels certain.

I force myself to take a breath as I nod at him. "So, uh. So you and Derek? Do you do that?"

"Do we fuck?" I didn't need the clarification, but putting the words out there, as harshly as possible, gave me a strange thrill. But I never really wanted to use Derek, or what we did, to get a rise out of anyone. I didn't brag about it, I didn't really talk about it much at all.

"He's lonely and I'm a good lay," I said, shrugging. There were other things I could've said, like how Derek made me feel wanted like nobody else ever had. Or I could've talked about how he was the only person that made me feel safe, after I remembered the shit that happened to me last Christmas Eve.

But I could tell that Bitty was wrapped up in Derek, because he was gorgeous and kind and easy to want, and for once, I didn't feel like hurting the kid.

Besides, Derek wasn't mine to claim, and never would be.

Neil's never been anything but absolutely blunt and this time is no different. Still, something about the way he says it nearly makes me flinch and I stare at my knees, trying hard not to think about it, but failing completely.

I'm not surprised that Derek feels lonely even if I know he's surrounded by people who care about him. It's clear these monsters we've been dealing with for the past few days are all some twisted manifestations of his own mind, that he believes the horrible things they say to him. Of course he feels lonely; he doesn't really believe he's worth anything, not even when evidence to the contrary is right in front of his face.

So I'm not surprised, I guess. I'm definitely not surprised Neil can give him something I can't.

I hate to consider the twist in my stomach jealousy, but I know that's what it is. Jealousy and embarrassment and... well, there's probably a good amount of self-pity in there, too. Might as well call it what it is.

"I'm glad he has you," I manage finally and I mean it even if it doesn't sound like I do. "He deserves to know someone cares about him. So do you."

Edited 2015-11-21 00:23 (UTC)

I choked out a laugh, picking at a loose thread at my knee and looking just about anywhere but at him. "You don't know me. You don't know what I deserve."

Bitty didn't sound all that glad, and a part of me got a perverse thrill, knowing he might be jealous, but the truth was, whatever I had with Derek had an expiration date. He'd find someone, and find them soon. Someone to love, someone to be the partner he needed. Stability. I'd never gotten any indication he wanted that from me, and even if he did, I wouldn't have known how to give it.

Neil's laugh is short and a little watery and I flinch for a second before shaking my head.

"I know you're half the reason I'm still alive right now," I tell him, my voice firm with at least that much truth. "I know you haven't left me to die here. And I don't think it's just because Derek won't leave me. I know you care more than you'd maybe like to admit."

Shrugging, I keep my hands close to my belly as I look over at him again. "You deserve good things. Maybe I don't know your whole life story but I do know that much."

"If it was just you and me? I might stick with you, sure. If I thought it was safer not to be alone. But I'm here, I'm looking after you because it would fucking break him, if something happened to you. I don't know if he could come back from that, and I love him too much for--" I cut myself off, pinching at the bridge of my nose, just to hide my pained wince. "I couldn't watch that, so. I'm here."

I shifted awkwardly, drawing my knees up toward my chest, unconsciously mirroring the way he sat.

"He's my best friend. I'm tired of him taking so much shit. I just want it to stop."

It's difficult to listen to, all of it. I don't know what makes Neil think I'm so special, but I can't claim that I don't understand Neil's reasoning. We've both seen what these creatures are doing to him, how they're tearing him apart. The last thing he needs is to believe he's failed one more person, whether it be me or Neil or any number of the people he's come to care about in Darrow.

For a moment, I can't say anything, just watching the way Neil brings his knees up, the both of us now curled up against the harshness.

"We're not entirely unalike, you know," I say after a few long moments, my voice little more than a whisper. "We are in most ways, I guess. But I want this all to stop just as badly as you do. I know I'm not doing the greatest job of holding my weight, but I'd-- I'd do pretty much anything for either one of you. I mean, I'm the weakest link here. If anyone's gonna go first, it'll be me and I'm. Just keep each other safe, okay? As much as you can."

"Stop it. Just shut up, nothing's going to happen to you," I said, shaking my head angrily, my fists clinched so tightly that I could feel my nails biting into my palms.

"We're going to look after him and we're going to be okay. Just don't start making me promise you shit. I'm not going to do that."

It's not the first time someone's told me to shut up and I know it sure as heck won't be the last. A lot of the time, I say it to myself, even if just internally.

Right now, it stings a little, but I do as he asks, closing my mouth tight and keeping my arms tucked in close.

The silence stretches and I keep my eyes firmly ahead at where Derek's still sleeping, watching the steady rise and fall of his fur with every breath. "You don't have to promise me anything," I say after a long moment, my voice barely above a whisper.

God, I just want to go home.

Heaving a sigh, I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to ignore the wave of guilt that surged up in my gut. He was a goddamn adult and he didn't need to be coddled and I didn't have any reason to feel guilty.

But.

"Get some sleep. I'll keep a look out."

Neil sighs, loud and heavy, and part of me wants to argue that he didn't get enough sleep himself, but I don't feel much like starting in on that so I just nod instead.

"Wake me if you get tired," I tell him before quietly getting to my feet and slipping out of my shoes. I rest my knife on Derek's bedside table and slide beneath the sheets, careful to jostle the mattress as little as possible and curl up on my side, my back to Neil and Derek both and pray sleep settles over me soon.

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SD: Day 5

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