vagabonds walk this suitcase town

@wardowrites: Anyway you look adequate.

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There was a small tug under his ribcage at Wardo's reassurance. His words were kind, and sweet, and offered the kind of comfort only he knew how to give. Louis suddenly felt impatient to have the other man in his arms again, the quick brush of their fingers as he handed over the shirt wasn't enough. It seemed odd that only moments ago they'd been on the other side of that door, declaring their love for each other, and now Louis was watching Wardo change into a dry shirt. You never saw those parts in movies, or read about them in books. Or did you? Louis cast his mind back, mentally poring over all the books he'd read to conjure one up.

He swallowed, feeling a dry sort of want at the sight of Wardo shirtless. After the attack, Louis had spiralled every time he'd felt the merest tug of arousal. He'd gone over it again and again in therapy. It had felt inappropriate and inconvenient to want something like that, even on his terms. Now looking at Wardo, that old hint of guilt twisted in his stomach again. It was non-urgent, unthreatening, a quiet nudge that reminded him yes, he could still want. And in the near or distant future, he would want Wardo again.

He smiled at the thought, Wardo's old shirt covering the trail of dark hair on his stomach, the scars both familiar and unfamiliar, until his eyes moved up to his face. He let Wardo take his hand, fingers threading together as he murmured, "This helps. This is good."

Louis let himself be pulled into another hug, and he felt his body sag in relief. His fingers curled into the fabric of Wardo's new shirt, feeling the other man warm up under his hands. Good. Louis never wanted him to be cold, or scared, or sad ever again. He was going to make sure he was okay.

"I don't know what to do, baby." he breathed against his ear, his laugh a low rumble in his chest. "I don't know what the right thing to say is."

Louis pulled back a little, so that they were still chest to chest, their noses bumping uncomfortably as a hand found it's way to the nape of Wardo's neck. He felt like he was about to cry, a painful lump in his throat, even as he felt the dull recognition that he was happy. He was really, really happy.

"Can we find a way to be together again?" he begged, hearing the desperation in his voice. "I really don't think I can be apart from you for another second, kid."

He wrapped his arms tightly around him, pulling him in. Louis was solid and warm beneath him, helping the chill disappear from Wardo’s body as well as the heaviness weighing down on his heart.

“Hey,” he sniffed, sending a wan smile Louis’ way when they pulled back, still making sure to hold onto each other. He stared into the warm brown of Louis’ eyes, wondering if he’d ever be able to put words to the feeling of the person you loved most in the world being returned to you. 

The other man had always been handsome, but looking at him now, a little aged with deeper lines around his eyes, Wardo was sure he wouldn’t be able to stand just how beautiful Louis looked. His heart and body still reacted just as it did back when Louis wore a smug smile that said I know what I look like and I’m not sorry about it. But the way he looked now threatened to break Wardo open from too much wanting. He didn’t know what the parameters of their situation were now, just as Louis didn’t know the right thing to say. Where was he going to put all this want? Did Louis even want to take it from him, after everything?

A hand came up to fit snugly against the side of Louis’ face, Wardo’s thumb idly sweeping back and forth along his cheekbone. A renewed sense of hope filled his chest at Louis’ words and he nodded gently.

“Yeah, baby,” he whispered. He leaned in and gently pressed a kiss to the corner of Louis’ mouth, not wanting to push his luck. If he was allowed even that, just that for the rest of his life, he’d take it. He’d take anything Louis wanted to give him.

“I don’t want you to be apart from me either,” he said, voice firmer this time. “Whatever us being together looks like now, I’ll take all of it. Fuck, I missed you so much.”

His eyes filled up again and he blinked the tears away as best he could.

“I’m so sorry. But I meant what I said. I love you so much. No one’s ever happened to me the way you did.”

Clasping her hands in front of her, Ivy was the picture of modesty as she followed him across the street – if there was any such way to jaywalk demurely – and she offered the, somewhat manic, woman a serene smile. Were nuns serene? She assumed so. Ivy always thought they had a kinda haunting sense of composure to them, one that she wasn’t entirely sure she could replicate, but she’d sure as hell – heck – try. 

Now, it wasn’t much of an achievement, given the circumstances, but as the two of them watched the kid being rattled by a woman Ivy could only assume was his mother, it dawned on her for the first time in her life that she had caught onto the situation before Wardo. Her eyes widened just a fraction as she chewed on the inside of her cheek, desperately trying to muffle the cackle that was threatening to break through. Holy shit, this woman thought they’d been sent by God?! 

“Yes, uh, my dear child. It is true, He has sent us,” Ivy floundered, following her words by giving Wardo a not-so-subtle elbow to the ribs. 

Straightening her back, she released what she could only hope was an appropriately timed gasp of surprise at the woman’s words, her palm coming to rest against her chest. If she had pearls, now would be the perfect time to clutch them. She shook her head in a look of faux-sympathy, before doing a quick sign of the cross, awkwardly flailing her hands in a fashion that she hoped was at least vaguely convincing. 

Clearing her throat, Ivy glanced nervously at Wardo, desperately trying to communicate something, anything, with just their eyes. Whatever was actually wrong with her son – probably an obscenely potent batch of weed, if not a high dose of molly – it was clear he wasn’t the only one experiencing delusions. With a quick look that she hoped conveyed let’s see how long we can keep this up, she turned her attention back to the tearful woman. 

“Now is not the time to fret, my lamb,” Ivy reassured her, albeit a little too confident. Did nuns even say that shit? Was my lamb even a thing? Fuck knows. “He has sent us to represent Him, and it is thanks to Our Lord and His strength that we will free this poor boy of the evil that has a grip on his soul.” 

He let out an ‘oof’ or surprise when Ivy elbowed him in the ribs and shot her an annoyed glare over the woman’s head. But it wouldn’t do for the two of them to get into one of their usual tussles right now. They weren’t Wardo and Ivy, feral heathens tonight. He had to remember that they were Father Dierks and Sister Svedka, children of God.

Rubbing sorely at his side, he let Ivy navigate a response to the women, eyes subtly widening when he realised she was playing into this.

Now what were they supposed to do?

The woman in question was staring at them with barely disguised hope, her blonde bob (cut straight from the panel of The View) bouncing as she nodded in gratitude. 

“Thank you. I prayed for Him to help and he sent me two angels,” she said, grasping onto both of their hands. Wardo offered her a tight smile, awkwardly trying to extricate himself from her grip.

He moved around her and crouched by the boy on the ground, whose smile suggested he was having a better time than anyone else in the alleyway. He glanced over his shoulder, hoping Ivy would keep the kid’s mom distracted while he figured out how to deal with this.

“Okay, idiot, what have you taken and how much?” he asked, adopting the same tone he used when Bryce pulled stupid shit.

The kid’s head rolled around, not a care in the world, as he smiled dopily.

“What didn’t I take, man?” he asked. 

“Just answer the question,” Wardo groaned, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Molly? Coke? Fucking… oh shit, don’t tell me you’re on ket or something?”

“Noooo,” the boy giggled. “Half a brownie. I was gonna take the other half but I heard my mom coming and I dropped it.”

Wardo’s eyebrows fell into a frown as he stared at the boy in disbelief.

“You’re this bugged out on half a weed brownie?” he hissed, shaking his head at the boy who quickly dissolved into giggles.

Wardo shook his head and turned back to Ivy and the near-hysterical mother. He pushed himself to his feet, stretching to his full height. The woman watched him with wide and fearful eyes, waiting for his assessment. He stretched it out for a moment longer, for no reason other than dramatics, and then nodded.

“We can help the Devil leave his body.”

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