#s3.

you roll your eyes, sigh through your nose. the muscles below your eyes twitch. you half-heartedly fight off a look of amusement, annoyance, both. he’s challenging you, even while you suck his cock. there very well may not be anything in this realm that can shut him up. though, you suppose you've stopped trying to. not when he's badgering you, not when he's blatantly lying to you, and never when he is like this: his voice rough and rolling, interrupted by tiny little gasps, half-swallowed moans. even now, he's so fucking cocksure.

in-between his legs, silver looms large above you. he's seemingly fully at ease in your chair, splayed out and pretty. more blood than any sane man could fathom has been spilled for this ship, this cabin, this chair. and here silver is, sat in your hard-earned throne, calling you captain while you rest on your knees. you twitch in your pants. his eyes are lidded, hazy, and his lips gleam with spit. you imagine yours do too. the buttons of your shirt are mostly undone, the flesh that covers your heart exposed. despite this, you’re burning up, flushed all the way from your ribs to the apples of your cheeks. to avoid deigning silver with a response, you raise a singular eyebrow and slowly lower your mouth back onto him.

silver’s hand lays against your head, smoothing across your skin. it’s a possessive touch, simultaneously grounding and ruinous, and you find yourself hunching over further. there isn’t much of a logistical difference between you giving and him taking, but it feels distinctive now. you want to feel as much of him as you can, feel alive and present and thrumming against his skin, but you're wary to push him past his limits. in lieu of grabbing at his thigh, you squeeze at the flesh of one of silver’s hips, a hand jammed beneath the waistline of his pants. the other hand, well-

you thumb at a prominent vein on the underside of silver, following the course up. the motion stops when you meet where his flesh is wet with your spit. your hand travels back down. you press the head of him against your tongue, then further, your lips eventually grazing your own fingers.

The gang.

It didn't seem like luck would ever be able to SMILE upon him. There were times when Murphy honestly wondered if somewhere on his body spelled TROUBLE and pulled it all toward him. A stupid thought, of course. But at times, with things happening? He was just so entirely DONE with the whole situation. This, no doubt... Was one of them. No matter how hard he had struggled, he had still ended up knocked out and thrown into the cell with a very familiar figure.

A twitch of the fingers and a light groan before he finally startled awake, a sharp breath being sucked in and eyes wide. Until they fell upon the woman aside him, causing him to blink twice. And then, a faint hiss as his hand moved upward to the wound on his forehead, eyes squinting a bit. " ... Like someone hit me over the head with something hard. " he finally commented, bringing his fingers away from the wound to peer at his fingertips. No blood. So it was closed for now. With that knowledge in mind, his stormy blues wander momentarily to her, head canting just a tad bit. " ... I'm locked up, aren't I. "

perry was in the 80s for nearly a year (~9 months. yes, this is meant to mirror the amount of time rebecca was missing pre-series)

while in the 80s, perry gets a new tattoo. pre-80s, he only has the abbott ranch symbol on his ankle and a honeybee on his arm; post-80s, he has a rattlesnake on his ribs.

after the initial elation at managing to 'change the past' wears off, perry becomes incredibly depressed, stemming from not only a failure to solve rebecca's disappearance, but because of the trauma of watching his other-self die. he has frequent nightmares about it; he begins to have recurring headaches that last all day. he sleeps in on occasion, and skips out early on work. he finds himself crying a lot. he begins to fear that his body will be discovered like trevor's was.

he struggles with reliving the time that had already passed. he finds himself confusing timelines and citing conversations that didn't happen in this one. sometimes he accidentally mentions something to his mom or dad from the 80s and has to fumble around an explanation of how he knows. he remembers the fight he had with rhett and what rhett said and fears that it's what rhett thinks of him anyway, not something said in the heat of the moment. he withdraws slightly from him because of it and doesn't go out with rhett often anymore.

he doesn't stop drinking entirely, but he barely drinks at all anymore. every time he does go to the bar he immediately gets a headache and sees himself or trevor dying.

he avoids the west pasture. he refuses to go anywhere near where the hole had been.

he grows his hair out slightly. he doesn't bother staying clean-shaven.

people who knew perry before will have a feeling that something is changed about him on a foundational level, beyond his obvious depression/mood instabilities. he's not from that timeline; he was out of his own time for so long. in the same way that being displaced has changed royal and autumn (at least in my opinion; in my opinion, this is why they were capable of moving the mountain/changing the night sky), perry is different. he wasn't out of time for the same length as either of them but there is still something within him that has been altered forever, and his friends and family will have a sense of it, though they won't be able to put exactly into words what's 'wrong' with him.

he feels incredibly lonely. he knows that theoretically he could talk to royal, since his dad is the person who would understand him, but he doesn't want to disappoint him/upset him so he doesn't.