FIC: Temporarily Lost at Sea
Nov. 4th, 2010 07:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nilchanceTitle: Temporarily Lost at Sea
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nilchance
Rating: Adult
Pairing/Fandom: AKB!verse, Jeremy Sisto & Denis Leary... slashy gen?
A/N: This was originally going to be a 5 times, but then, no. This is set maybe a year after Rust. There's references to hospitalization and rape, and then there's creepiness and Jeremy being manic and sexual. And Denis's past substance abuse.
“Jesus Christ, you skinny little fucker,” Denis says. “I could choke you.”
Jeremy slouches in the door, his thumbs in his pockets. He’s soaked to the bone, his hair plastered to his skull. His crooked grin reminds Denis of his own junkie days. “No, no Jesus Christ here. I brought food, it’s in the car. What, no hello?”
For a second, Denis thinks about telling him to walk his ass right back out the door. But it’s not his house, it’s Jeremy’s. For all Jeremy’s liberal guilt, Denis is still the fucking slave.
“You don’t got the sense to get in out of the rain?” Denis asks finally.
Fuck, Denis feels every one of the years since he was Jeremy’s age himself. Especially when Denis gets to screen his calls and forge Jeremy’s signature on his mail. It’s all crimes, all the time in the Sisto household; one absentee owner and one bad slave, but Denis kept it together.
He used to skip out on his life, too. Look where it got him.
Jeremy comes in, tossing his car keys on the table by the door like always. When the keys skitter off onto the floor, he stares at them and then says thoughtfully, “Well, fuck.”
Denis can just see him falling over on his face, and then who’ll drive Jeremy to the ER? Him. Yeah. He barks, “I’ll get that,” and Jeremy flinches from him. One year of coping with each other’s crap, Denis snarls once and Jeremy jumps. Figures. Grousing, Denis gets off the couch. “What are you, sixteen? Sneaking in at two in the morning. Shit.”
Jeremy rolls his shoulders back, trying to look taller. “I’m nineteen.”
“Ohh,” Denis mutters, “nineteen. Excuse the hell out of me, Grandma Moses.”
“It’s not my fault you’re old.”
Already bent over to retrieve the keys, Denis gives Jeremy a look. It’s wasted on him, because his eyes are closed and his head laid back against the wall. Denis drops the keys in the dish, and Jeremy flinches like a kicked dog again, turning his face from the sound.
“You drunk?” Denis asks.
“You’re not my dad, Denis. Fuck off.” Jeremy’s lips purse, and he adds, “I’m not drunk. I’m just. I’m tired. I had to stay awake.”
Denis grunts. “What, to drive? Maybe if you’d called, fuckhead, I’d have come get you. You think about that?”
Jeremy wrinkles his nose. He’s sliding a little on the wall, to fit himself in the corner. He usually finds the spot where his back isn’t to anyone. Denis ought to leave him there to sleep it off.
“Three days,” Denis says. “You fuck off for three days without a word.”
“Two days--”
“You’re goddamn lucky nobody turned up at the house, or you’d be in deep shit.” When that doesn’t get him an answer, Denis prods again. “We both would be.”
That finally gets Jeremy to lift his head and open his eyes, to look at Denis like a grown man. There’s a feverish light in his eyes that Denis remembers later, but at the time he’s got a good pissed off rant going and nothing like self-preservation can stop him.
So Denis drives that last nail in and goes, “You think it’s just you that’ll hang for this, you selfish prick?”
He thinks Jeremy might hit him. What Jeremy does instead is grab Denis by the wrist, and he puts Denis’s hand on his throat. Covers it with his own. Up close, Jeremy’s skin is freezing cold.
“You won’t send me back there. You want to fuck me?” Jeremy asks, his voice that mild bum-me-a-smoke voice. When Denis jerks, Jeremy smiles a flat little smile. “I’d let you fuck me. If you keep this quiet. It’s not like I never sucked a guy’s dick.”
Denis hisses, trying to jerk his hand back. Says, “I’m not--”
“No. I get it. I understand now. I wasn’t good enough. For. It’s why Jeff’s sent me there.” Jeremy blinks and Denis can nearly hear his brain skipping tracks. “I’ll be better.” Arching up off the wall, Jeremy grinds against Denis, hip to hip.
“Stop it,” Denis snaps. “Knock it off, Jeremy, I don’t know what the fuck’s the matter with you but--”
Jeremy squeezes, until Denis can feel the meat between his skin. Jeremy’s not the gawky kid that bought Denis, a year’s worth of muscle on his bones since the AZT.
“Do it,” Jeremy rasps; Denis sees it on his mouth, isn’t sure he’d hear it otherwise. When Denis tries to let him go, Jeremy grips him tighter. “Tired of being crazy. Tired of all this shit. Do it, if you’re gonna. Won’t take much.”
No. It wouldn’t take much.
Denis leans against Jeremy, body to body, until he can feel him shivering. And then he says, right in Jeremy’s ear where he can hear it, “No.”
And then, twisting his hand in the back of Jeremy’s shirt like scruffing a cat, Denis hauls him to the shower. He grabs all the sharp shit, removes it, and then tosses Jeremy in, clothes and all, under the hot water.
It takes repeatedly pushing Jeremy back into the spray, and finally standing in the stall himself, to keep Jeremy in the shower until he stops shivering. It’s like dunking Winston in the bath with less whining. After about the third time, Denis seriously considers just driving Jeremy to Morgan’s and dumping him in his driveway, let that fucker see just what he did.
But he doesn’t. He doesn’t. Even when it’s like lather, rinse, repeat with the process of getting Jeremy in dry clothes, and getting him to eat a sandwich, and telling him to take whatever pills needed taking (“that means now, starshine,”) and steering him to bed. By the time they get to the bed part, Jeremy’s half-dead on his feet, Denis’s grip on his shirt more holding him upright than keeping him in place.
Denis shakes out the blanket over Jeremy, thunks the glass of water down on the floor beside his mattress (still on the floor, like he can’t afford a fucking bedframe). Then, in the quiet suburban darkness, Denis tells him, “We aren’t doing this shit again, kid.”
He means, so knock it the fuck off, because you’re still on the edge of that roof and we both know it now.
He means, I don’t want to watch you die.
He means a lot of shit he never says.
It figures that Jeremy hears something else.
“Okay,” Jeremy tells him. “I’m okay.”
Denis listens to him breathing until it turns into sleep, and then he goes to the kitchen, and pours himself his first drink in a very long time.
Author:
nilchanceRating: Adult
Pairing/Fandom: AKB!verse, Jeremy Sisto & Denis Leary... slashy gen?
A/N: This was originally going to be a 5 times, but then, no. This is set maybe a year after Rust. There's references to hospitalization and rape, and then there's creepiness and Jeremy being manic and sexual. And Denis's past substance abuse.
“Jesus Christ, you skinny little fucker,” Denis says. “I could choke you.”
Jeremy slouches in the door, his thumbs in his pockets. He’s soaked to the bone, his hair plastered to his skull. His crooked grin reminds Denis of his own junkie days. “No, no Jesus Christ here. I brought food, it’s in the car. What, no hello?”
For a second, Denis thinks about telling him to walk his ass right back out the door. But it’s not his house, it’s Jeremy’s. For all Jeremy’s liberal guilt, Denis is still the fucking slave.
“You don’t got the sense to get in out of the rain?” Denis asks finally.
Fuck, Denis feels every one of the years since he was Jeremy’s age himself. Especially when Denis gets to screen his calls and forge Jeremy’s signature on his mail. It’s all crimes, all the time in the Sisto household; one absentee owner and one bad slave, but Denis kept it together.
He used to skip out on his life, too. Look where it got him.
Jeremy comes in, tossing his car keys on the table by the door like always. When the keys skitter off onto the floor, he stares at them and then says thoughtfully, “Well, fuck.”
Denis can just see him falling over on his face, and then who’ll drive Jeremy to the ER? Him. Yeah. He barks, “I’ll get that,” and Jeremy flinches from him. One year of coping with each other’s crap, Denis snarls once and Jeremy jumps. Figures. Grousing, Denis gets off the couch. “What are you, sixteen? Sneaking in at two in the morning. Shit.”
Jeremy rolls his shoulders back, trying to look taller. “I’m nineteen.”
“Ohh,” Denis mutters, “nineteen. Excuse the hell out of me, Grandma Moses.”
“It’s not my fault you’re old.”
Already bent over to retrieve the keys, Denis gives Jeremy a look. It’s wasted on him, because his eyes are closed and his head laid back against the wall. Denis drops the keys in the dish, and Jeremy flinches like a kicked dog again, turning his face from the sound.
“You drunk?” Denis asks.
“You’re not my dad, Denis. Fuck off.” Jeremy’s lips purse, and he adds, “I’m not drunk. I’m just. I’m tired. I had to stay awake.”
Denis grunts. “What, to drive? Maybe if you’d called, fuckhead, I’d have come get you. You think about that?”
Jeremy wrinkles his nose. He’s sliding a little on the wall, to fit himself in the corner. He usually finds the spot where his back isn’t to anyone. Denis ought to leave him there to sleep it off.
“Three days,” Denis says. “You fuck off for three days without a word.”
“Two days--”
“You’re goddamn lucky nobody turned up at the house, or you’d be in deep shit.” When that doesn’t get him an answer, Denis prods again. “We both would be.”
That finally gets Jeremy to lift his head and open his eyes, to look at Denis like a grown man. There’s a feverish light in his eyes that Denis remembers later, but at the time he’s got a good pissed off rant going and nothing like self-preservation can stop him.
So Denis drives that last nail in and goes, “You think it’s just you that’ll hang for this, you selfish prick?”
He thinks Jeremy might hit him. What Jeremy does instead is grab Denis by the wrist, and he puts Denis’s hand on his throat. Covers it with his own. Up close, Jeremy’s skin is freezing cold.
“You won’t send me back there. You want to fuck me?” Jeremy asks, his voice that mild bum-me-a-smoke voice. When Denis jerks, Jeremy smiles a flat little smile. “I’d let you fuck me. If you keep this quiet. It’s not like I never sucked a guy’s dick.”
Denis hisses, trying to jerk his hand back. Says, “I’m not--”
“No. I get it. I understand now. I wasn’t good enough. For. It’s why Jeff’s sent me there.” Jeremy blinks and Denis can nearly hear his brain skipping tracks. “I’ll be better.” Arching up off the wall, Jeremy grinds against Denis, hip to hip.
“Stop it,” Denis snaps. “Knock it off, Jeremy, I don’t know what the fuck’s the matter with you but--”
Jeremy squeezes, until Denis can feel the meat between his skin. Jeremy’s not the gawky kid that bought Denis, a year’s worth of muscle on his bones since the AZT.
“Do it,” Jeremy rasps; Denis sees it on his mouth, isn’t sure he’d hear it otherwise. When Denis tries to let him go, Jeremy grips him tighter. “Tired of being crazy. Tired of all this shit. Do it, if you’re gonna. Won’t take much.”
No. It wouldn’t take much.
Denis leans against Jeremy, body to body, until he can feel him shivering. And then he says, right in Jeremy’s ear where he can hear it, “No.”
And then, twisting his hand in the back of Jeremy’s shirt like scruffing a cat, Denis hauls him to the shower. He grabs all the sharp shit, removes it, and then tosses Jeremy in, clothes and all, under the hot water.
It takes repeatedly pushing Jeremy back into the spray, and finally standing in the stall himself, to keep Jeremy in the shower until he stops shivering. It’s like dunking Winston in the bath with less whining. After about the third time, Denis seriously considers just driving Jeremy to Morgan’s and dumping him in his driveway, let that fucker see just what he did.
But he doesn’t. He doesn’t. Even when it’s like lather, rinse, repeat with the process of getting Jeremy in dry clothes, and getting him to eat a sandwich, and telling him to take whatever pills needed taking (“that means now, starshine,”) and steering him to bed. By the time they get to the bed part, Jeremy’s half-dead on his feet, Denis’s grip on his shirt more holding him upright than keeping him in place.
Denis shakes out the blanket over Jeremy, thunks the glass of water down on the floor beside his mattress (still on the floor, like he can’t afford a fucking bedframe). Then, in the quiet suburban darkness, Denis tells him, “We aren’t doing this shit again, kid.”
He means, so knock it the fuck off, because you’re still on the edge of that roof and we both know it now.
He means, I don’t want to watch you die.
He means a lot of shit he never says.
It figures that Jeremy hears something else.
“Okay,” Jeremy tells him. “I’m okay.”
Denis listens to him breathing until it turns into sleep, and then he goes to the kitchen, and pours himself his first drink in a very long time.
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no subject
Date: 2010-11-05 12:13 am (UTC)doesn't seemed to have made much of a difference though, because I still loved this.
Denis Leary is one of my all time favorite actors/comedians and I think you captured his personality brilliantly.
Thanks for sharing this.
no subject
Date: 2010-11-05 02:26 am (UTC)Thank you!
... is that Adam Lambert's ex in your icon?
no subject
Date: 2010-11-05 02:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-11-05 02:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-11-05 03:01 am (UTC)That's a link to the whole group dressed up.
It was an awesome video lol.
no subject
Date: 2010-11-05 09:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-11-05 02:00 pm (UTC)Denis is awesome. I want to give Denis a lot of big-boobed women and an island somewhere.
Thank you!