cacophonish | DUPLICITY: INBOX

I'm coming over to talk to you.

[What's his directional sense of people for, if not for that?]

its ok I'm fine I just type dumb things sometimes
you don't need to come down here

[ "Here" being some dive in the Down where he's probably sitting at the bar and either drinking free from a bartender "friend" or accepting drinks from strangers. ]

[There's no response.

Until Bash walks into the bar, beelining for Jeff.]

Jeff looks at Bash. He blinks, then looks at his drink, as if it was somehow, what, spiked with hallucinogens? He blinks again... then slowly reaches out to poke the other man in the shoulder, like he's testing whether Bash is really here or just in his head.

He doesn't think he's had a hallucination since Ziggy was split from him, but... that doesn't mean much.

Edited 2021-12-11 17:52 (UTC)

Bash is incredibly real, as he leans in to brush warm lips against Jeff's forehead. Absolutely and utterly real.

"Hey, sweetheart." The words are soft, gentle and laced with concern, because he can see exactly what kind of state Jeff's in, and it breaks his heart. But it really drives home what his responsibility is. Even in a world without the Fates, he can't manage to do casual. Well, fuck.

Jeff would very much like to sink into that brief kiss. He tries to imagine what it would be like, to really be sweet and beautiful and all the things Bash sees in him. Sometimes, he can pretend so naturally that it almost feels real. Other times, times like right now, he feels like the most naked, obvious fraud.

Maybe there's a reality where he's worth the kindness and affection, but it's not this one. But he's greedy, and he's selfish, so he leans in all the same, eyes fluttering shut, and he can't help but smile at the greeting.

"Heeeey, handsome." He opens his eyes, gaze drifting back to his nearly-finished drink. He nudges it away. "I might be drunk."

Edited 2021-12-11 18:34 (UTC)

"Completely shitfaced." Bash takes the glass, takes a sip, and looks at Jeff with amusement. "And on the worst plonk too. Want me to take you home?"

"Mmhm," he nods agreeably, leaning in to let Bash in on a secret. "I like the bad stuff. Makes me a cheap date."

As for home... The thought of returning to his dingy room is just... depressing. But maybe it can be salvaged. He smiles and slides a hand from Bash's knee, up his thigh.

"Oh yeah, we should... we should go. Somewhere private, um... Yeah, home. That's good."

The hand on his leg seems to startle Bash--he's not planning on sex tonight, with Jeff in this state. But he puts on a smile. "Do you want me to carry you, or can you walk?"

He's getting the fuller picture of Jeff, now.

"Oh... I love getting swept off my feet," he sighs, before making an effort to stand. He's pretty fucking wobbly, but, hey, he's sure he can walk in a relatively straight line. Maybe. He just needs a few moments. "Probably... probably too heavy to carry the whole way," he laughs. "I'm good, I can, uh... yeah, I can walk."

"Don't worry about how heavy you are. I'm a bit stronger than I look." But Bash waits for Jeff to decide, lingering nearby thoughtfully. He does ask the bartender for a glass of water, quietly offering it to Jeff.

Jeff takes a few sips of the offered water. Even lukewarm and in a dirty glass, it tastes like something pure, and refreshing, the way water always does after a few too many drinks.

"Okay." He sets the glass down and loops both arms around Bash's shoulders. "You can carry me. It'ssss... probably not too bad a walk."

Bash just picks him up. He's not superhuman strong, but he's strong enough, one arm beneath Jeff's knees, the other behind his back, cradling him close as he heads for the door.

"See, not so bad. You're a scrawny little thing. Oughta eat better."

Jeff pretty much clings to Bash as he's being carried, nuzzling his face against him in some attempt at making his world smaller, and smaller. Like if he wills it, he can drown out Duplicity and all the bullshit around them, and pretend it's just the two of them.

He can't help it. Even with as low as he's feeling, he still laughs at the comment.

"Nooo. I don't like food," he declares, his voice somewhat muffled. It's a nonsense declaration, the kind that only a drunk could deliver with complete confidence. After a beat, he lifts his head and looks at Bash with a grin. "Are we there yet?"

Bash chuckles. "Such a brat. No, we're not there yet. I'm assuming you're living in public housing?"

He knows where that is, even if he's never been there before. More locational bullshit cheating.

He nods, settling his head down again. Luckily, they're a pretty short walk from public housing. "16th Floor, Room... D." A beat. "Not B. I made that mistake before..."

Which, all things considered, it could've gotten worse. But it's a mistake he doesn't want to make again!

Edited 2021-12-11 23:28 (UTC)

At least 16-B is empty now, as Ducky's moved to the Up. But Bash gets Jeff to the housing building successfully. He's humming that lullaby as he walks, the one his mom used to sing.

Somehow, Jeff seems to relax even more in Bash's arms, listening to the lullaby. He's like some kind of combo of a limp noodle and a koala bear. At one point, he even starts to hum along-- as best he can, considering he's drunk, but at least he can still manage to sound melodious-- until they get to his room. If there's even a lock on the door, it's either busted or he forgot to lock it.

"Oh. We're here."

Which, now that they're here, he's a little... embarrassed. He doesn't own enough stuff for it to be cluttered, but what little he has is scattered haphazardly. Empty bottles, half-empty bottles, various lubes and sex toys that the city keeps throwing at him, clothes, a bit of lingerie, a couple odd nicknacks... The only thing that seems to be placed with any care is his guitar and amp, set aside in the corner.

It's a cold splash of reality washing over him again. This is what he is, a fucking... disaster. Everything he touches becomes a mess.

"Sorry... I never had company here before."

Bash lays Jeff out on the bed. "Don't worry about it. How you feeling?"

It's not that he doesn't notice the mess, it's more that it's not his place to judge, nor his to try to change that behavior. He's just going to deal with Jeff himself and some of the feelings, tonight.

"I'm okay," he answers, though it's clear that now that they're here, the mirth he'd managed to muster up has faded again. "Not even that drunk..." He reaches out to Bash, to try to draw him onto the bed with him. The lumpy mattress is somewhere to sit, if nothing else.

"I'm... you know... fine..."

Very convincing.

Edited 2021-12-12 01:33 (UTC)

Bash sits on the edge of the bed so he can take his boots off, first thing. Because he's not about to lie on someone's bed, even if it's already a mess, in his boots.

"Right, for the record you're not a very convincing liar when drunk. In case no one had told you that before."

Jeff groans and rolls onto his other side, away from Bash. Like facing the wall will help him hide better. "Never been a good liar."

He's quiet for a moment, fidgeting, tugging at his sleeve and stretching it over his fingers.

"I guess... My feelings got hurt. And-- it's stupid. I know it's stupid."

"Your feelings aren't stupid. Did I hurt them?"

He reaches out to touch Jeff on the arm, but stops about an inch away, the hand folding into a helpless fist and falling away.

He hesitates before answering, mostly because he's not really sure which conversation-- or tangent, or whatever-- set him off the way it did. It's not like anything said to or about him was that bad. That one anonymous prick aside, it was all pretty well-meaning.

"A little," he says finally. "It... wasn't just you, I mean-- you didn't even-- not much." He takes a breath. God, he wants another drink, or like, to say something silly and distracting, or anything but talk about his own immature bullshit. But now that he's started, he can't stop himself from talking.

"It was just everything. That asshole saying I needed therapy and I was shameful or whatever, then the other guy jumping in to talk about why my kinks are valid-- I mean, I know he was trying to help, but it was, like, no one was talking to me, they were just talking about me. And then Vash accused me of joking about what I like, then when I tried to explain things, he kept being like, 'oh but I still don't get why anyone would like that' over and over--"

He takes another breath, then swallows thickly. For a moment, Jeff looks over his shoulder at Bash, almost apologetic for unloading all of this. Fucking alcohol. He's running out of steam, though, as he continues. "And on top of that, I went and totally misinterpreted some of the stuff we'd done, and thought it was something it wasn't and-- It was fucking... It was a lot, that's all. I just felt like a fucking freak of nature that everyone was picking apart."

Bash listens to all of that thoughtfully, but as Jeff reaches that conclusion, he looks, well, conflicted.

But he doesn't leap in with words right away. Instead he stretches out on the bed behind Jeff, draping an arm over his waist, and gently tugs him closer. Brushes his lips against his neck.

"I'm sorry."

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