‘ ʷᵉ ᵃʳᵉ ᵍᵒⁿⁿᵃ ᵇᵉ ᵃˡʳᴵᵍʰᵗ ‚

@spacelys

Leon knew it was probably pathetic. No one had to tell him that. He knew it, and his father’s voice reminded him of it every time he stepped into the damn vet. What guy his age even had a fucking rabbit? What guy his age even cared so much about it? It was stupid. Honestly, he couldn’t even afford her considering he could barely afford to keep himself alive. If he had any sense he would have released her into the wild the moment she didn’t serve a purpose for him any more. 

But he didn’t. And he knew it was stupid, but at this point in his life there were only a few living beings that hadn’t fucked off on him or hurt him in some way, and Houdini the fucking rabbit was one of those few. Leon couldn’t abandon her, or just give up on her, no matter how much it made sense. She had never been anything but good to him, and that was saying something. 

So, here Leon was. Back at the vet, waiting for his turn in line for a few minutes before he’s gingerly setting Houdini’s cage down onto the front desk with a blunt, “she’s not fucking eating.” Leon glances down at Houdini in her cage, alert but still. “I’ve tried fucking everything. Carrots. Cabbage. Pumpkin. Bell peppers. Watercress. I’ve spent more money on her food in the past two days than I’ve spent on mine in the past week and a half and she still won’t fucking eat.”

     sawyer stands idly at the front desk of the vet, pen with the logo printed vertically tapping against her biology homework. the receptionist had run out to do a couple of errands, though sawyer was perfectly aware errands was nothing but a cover-up. on and off relationship. and a man who wouldn’t stop ringing her up. the young girl had had her fair share of interactions with the aforementioned : when he came into the office demanding to speak to the other, when he called their public line non-stop for an hour until, finally, her co-worker was forced to step out. it’d gotten ridiculous, and to a point where the owner had threatened to have her let go. sawyer, however, wasn’t to keen on the idea and offered herself up as a stand-in during moments like these. at least she could get some work done while she did. silver-lining, sawyer always managed to find one. ballpoint pen settles between teeth, a nasty habit that she couldn’t unlearn, and brows furrow. this had not been covered in class. thought process goes interrupted, sawyer counting herself lucky for the older’s timing. she sets her homework aside, peeking into the cage. pout formed and a finger wags between steel wires. yeah, the rabbit was not interested in her. “ have you checked her teeth ? ” the brunette questions, attention shifting back to leon. a stupid inquiry, most likely, but still. “ uh, doc’s out for another hour. lunch. but . . . i could take a look if you want ? ”

“ Took me about nine years, including a probationary period where I was an agent only technically, ” He doesn’t really like talking about it, even someone as serious as Elliot always seems to be can care for separation of work and casual conversation. Not that he’s very good at it — in this case, he was the one to bring it up. “ But I’ve been all … ” He tosses a glance to the smaller figure, eyes connecting to make sure he isn’t talking to a brick wall. This is the point where most people tune out, but she seems to actually be listening. “ … official for around eight years now. Though I’m sure animals are much more interesting. Takes a lot of smarts to be a vet. ” It’s wistful, almost, not because he doesn’t love his job … but because he misses his dogs. 

        he shuffles to the time of a beat that she’s leading. he’s not sure how to do this, not sure if there’s a right way of doing this, but trailing hands feel good and her lips are soft. tentatively, he slips his tongue between parted lips and although he moves with anxiety-induced caution, his inexperience doesn’t allow for a graceful tenderness. he’s brash and unrefined, all his weight against her as he moves in pursuit of friction. his hands slip away from her waist, trailing with fascination over bare skin as palms steal her warmth. he should take off his own shirt, yeah. the thought is followed by an unintentional gulp. is he going too fast ? not fast enough ? he keeps his shirt on. ‘   o-okay. is this okay ?   ’ he breathes, stilted words seeking affirmation. 

        ‘   no i want to.   ’ he says, and now he’s awfully anxious that he won’t believe her and to think he’s already put someone else at discomfort because of his inability to do anything right … his thoughts trail, thankfully. did he put enough emphasis in his words ? does he need to explain himself ? ‘   i just … it’s dumb.   ’ he says, if only he thought of what to say before attempting to begin. ‘   i’m being dumb. but you’re perfect. you’re really really perfect and i want this.    ’ the words drop like a tsunami, all at once and profoundly beyond being able to recognize the implications, the consequences. she’s not perfect, he just doesn’t know that. he turns the handle, the door squeaking open slowly to reveal, just as promised a room littered with dirty laundry and an unmade bed. ‘   ant-man’s overhyped.   ’ he says, mirroring a subtle smile, before leaning in for a kiss. 

       he takes solace in the moments between action, the way her forehead feels rested against his. as if he could be a pillar of support when most of the time he feels like a shivering bag of bones. he takes a moment to breathe through it, the nervousness, reconciling with the want and the thing is, he’s only had sex with her and he’s never been sober for it. so he can feel it, the warmth of his palms and the way he fears they’ll become damp with nervousness. aware of his chapped lips and his slight tummy. aware of it all and committing to it anyways. ‘   sure.   ’ he says, with a nod, and tries to let the motions lead, he tries to outrun his thoughts. he stands, lifting her off his legs and holding her hand. she knows the way, but he leads anyways. that’s what he’s meant to do right ? ‘   my room’s probably a mess.   ’ 

BARS weren’t particularly Charlie’s venue of choice seeing as his social anxiety seemed to flare up and he tended to avoid drinking in public like the plague due to how much of a LIGHT WEIGHT he was. But there honestly wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for Sawyer and she had a way of pushing him just out of his comfort zone. He’d had a couple of drinks as well but he knew that pushing past more than a couple was a DANGEROUS bargain for the pianist and he wasn’t in the mood to S N A P and have another mental breakdown again. Last thing he wanted to do was embarrass his Dad with his mental illness. Depression, anxiety and liquor didn’t seem to mix well for him so he kept it as manageable as he could.

Though he didn’t want to intrude on Sawyer’s fun night, remaining at the bar and getting visibly flustered when the cute bartender talked to him. Flirting wasn’t something he was particularly good at EITHER, his dorkiness always throwing him under the bus. The entire night he kept watchful blue hues on his friend, making sure she wasn’t getting into TOO much trouble. A protective and bracing arm immediately slides around her waist and keeps her up right, “Woah there.” He breathed out with a chuckle, brows raising, “I think we’ve both had enough for the night. Come on…let’s go get some taco bell and head home. We can have a sleepover and binge some trash Netflix original.”

it’s easier for him, to pretend that nothing’s wrong, when he’s with his sisters. sawyer’s bubbliness is infectious, and even though they’re only an hour into their drive, he’s already feeling more relaxed. maybe it’s because they’re not in jericho anymore — they’re not swathed in the darkness that the town’s fallen into. steven feels lighter, happier. like everything’s easier. “ hey, don’t laugh. i haven’t listened to destiny’s child in ages, saw. ” roadtrip memories wash over him for a moment, passing thoughts of three kids singing songs with their parents in the car. he shakes it off, though, not wanting to let anger and sadness ruin what is already an enjoyable trip. he laughs as sawyer belts out the lyrics, bobbing his head along to the music as she does. “ i don’t think that’s actually a law, saw. and haven’t you heard the whole ‘ my car, my music thing’ ? ” he questions with a laugh, then shakes his head. “ you’re lucky, though. i dig it. ”

“ About the case? ” NOT YET. How could he, yet? There were no theories, no proof, no evidence. There was absolutely nothing he could do except watch it again and again and again, and pray that the case would go cold instead of repeating himself. He’d love to solve it, be painted as some sort of hero. The kind he’d always wanted to be. But as time ticked on, and chances of finding body or perpetrator diminished, there seemed to be less hope. No hope — but he wouldn’t say that to the smiling girl next to him. He couldn’t. He couldn’t say that to ANYONE, not really. “ Some. Can’t disclose them, exactly. ” What’s a white lie if he’ll never see her again? If in a month’s time, he’ll no longer be needed and sent back home? “ But I think everything’s gonna be fine. ” He wants to change the topic, and so, he clears his throat and moves backwards in the conversation. “ Shift? I take it you’re not an undercover officer? Whereabouts do you work? ”