Prompt# 139 - Bemused - The Cleansing, Part 3 - Fizzerbass - Original

[fizzerbass.livejournal.com]

Title: The Cleansing, Part 3
Fandom: Original
Prompt: Bemused
Warnings: M/M relationships
Rating: PG-13, for the F-bomb
Summary: He's just trying to help.
Author's request: Is it too confusing the main character still doesn't have a name?  Also, did I get my tenses right?  I think I may have changed half-way through...



 

He knew he looked stupid, he could tell by the bemused look on Mike’s face, but since it’d been a while since he’d seen any kind of smile on Mike’s face, he just kept right on doing what he was doing and his vanity be damned.

 

They’d been walking on the beach for what felt like miles and finally, finally, they’d stalled for a minute in a secluded alcove.  He desperately wanted to sit, his calve muscles were screaming, but Mike couldn’t be still, couldn’t seem to switch off whatever nervous current was thrumming through his body at high speed and had been for the last two days.  He kept hoping Mike would just collapse at some point - either emotionally or physically, he really didn’t care, just so long as they could stop moving for at least five minutes.

 

It had been a hell of a week.  Four assignments in six days, three of which were Class Four: total sanitation jobs.  He really didn’t mind doing those, they were actually becoming his favorite type of assignment because the “dirty work” was already done by the time they arrived and all he and Mike had to do was erase any evidence of the Team’s having been there.  He was more than happy to be batting fourth, the “clean-up” position, when it came to cases such as those.

 

Mike, however, had become more quiet and withdrawn with each new assignment, not even bothering to hide his depression as the week wore on.  Wednesday was particularly bad, a child had been involved, and no amount of talking, reasoning, or heavy-duty drinking had been able to pull Mike out of his funk.  He’d hoped this weekend off-roster and away from the Compound would help Mike find his balance again, but so far, it only seemed to have ramped up his manic side and sent them on this self-imposed endurance march. This very long, very quiet, very fucking hot endurance march.

 

 

“Alright, I give.  What the hell are you doing?”

 

Mike stopped – hallelujah – and stood staring at him, hands cocked on his hips, head titled sideways, the very smallest of smiles fighting valiantly to break free on his face.  He figured playing dumb was the way to go.

 

“What?”  He looked down at himself, trying to see what Mike found so almost-funny.

 

“You.  Look at you.” Mike said pointing.  “You’ve got your t-shirt draped over your head like puppy-dog ears, your sunglasses are upside down almost falling off your nose, and you’re dancing around like you haven’t peed in six days.  What gives?”

 

He’s a little miffed Mike doesn’t seem to be affected by their ultra-marathon through the desert and has a hard time keeping the irritation out of his voice.  “I’m dancing because the sand is fucking hot and my feet are already killing me.  My sunglasses are upside down because they’re pinching my nose and they’re almost falling off because I’m sweating like a broiled pig.”  He plopped down into the sand, squinting up at Mike.  “And my t-shirt’s flopped over my head because my ears are getting sunburned and I don’t fancy having them look like cracked, glazed donuts by the time we make it back to the room.  If we make it back to the room.”

 

 

Mike snorted, more of his smile trying to make a break for freedom on his face.  “Oh, poor baby.  Is our little walk tiring you out?  Does Baby need a nap?”  He walks over and squats down in front of him, poking out his bottom lip as he lays a hand on his shoulder.  “Do I need to carry poor Baby back?”

 

He looks at Mike’s face, the quiet mirth of his mouth not even coming close to reaching his haunted eyes.  He’s so tired of this, so tired of pretending everything is hunky-dory and watching Mike retreat farther and farther away from him. They’ve only been on the job in the Real World for six months so far – if Mike’s this strung out already, what’s it going to be like five years from now?  Hell, who knows if they’d even make it five years?  What would he be like in just two years? 

 

The thought of not having Mike as his partner twists his stomach into funny knots, sweat not caused by the beating sun popping out along his forehead.  Reaching up, he grabs Mike’s arm, surprising them both with the force of it.  “No.  What I need is for you to be still for more than sixty seconds and talk to me.  Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.  Let me in.  Let me help.”

 

Mike stiffens and stands, the smile falling off his face.  “Nothing’s wrong, I told you.  I’m just tired.”  He starts to walk again, heading down the beach as he throws over his shoulder, “Just leave it.”

 

He scrambles to his feet and follows, spinning Mike around by grabbing his arm.  “No, Mike, I won’t just leave it.  You haven’t said more than ten words to me since Wednesday and I bet we’ve walked more than ten miles since we got here last night.  Something’s wrong, something’s seriously fucking with your head and I want to help.”

 

 

Mike looks down at the hand clenching his arm and sighs, removing it gently.  “You can’t help me.  Just…drop it, okay?”  He turns away, facing the ocean, wrapping his arms tightly around his chest.  “I’ll be fine in a little while.  You can go back to the room if you want.”

 

He looks at his partner’s profile, noticing the dark circles under his eyes, the tightness of his jaw, the tense set of his shoulders.  He feels the same flutter in his stomach he always does when he lets himself stare, the same sick twinge of apprehension that something is going to happen – and it isn’t necessarily going to be good.  He wants to run, but he doesn’t know where or in what direction because he doesn’t know what it is he’s running from...or even if he’s running at all.  The only thing he does know is Mike’s hurting and he needs to do something to fix it.

 

“Mike, please.  Let me help you.”  He starts to reach out and cup Mike’s neck, intent on offering comfort, but freezes with his arm in mid-grasp when he realizes his real desire is to pull Mike into his arms and kiss him tenderly on the temple, whispering quiet words of reassurance and solace.  Stricken, both by his action and his reaction, he gasps; confusion and attraction all but strangling him and stealing his words.

 

Mike turns his head, seeing his turmoil.  Sadness floats across his face and settles deep into his already troubled eyes as he continues to stare at the hand still hanging just inches from his own face.  He turns fully and takes a step closer, walking into the embrace the hand offers.  “Do you really want to help me?”

 

He closes his eyes, unable to speak.  He’s not stupid, he knows the question Mike’s really asking, he knows where this could lead if he says yes.  He wants to drop his hand, punching Mike lightly yet manly on the arm and say impersonally, ‘Of course I do, buddy.  That’s what I’m here for.’ But the warm skin under his palm feels too good, feels too right, and all he can do is nod dumbly.

 

Mike doesn’t say anything right away, just moves his cheek softly against the hand still resting there.  His eyes fly open as he feels Mike’s hand trailing up his own arm and settling against his neck.  Mike meets his gaze immediately, his eyes full of aching sadness and desperation, his voice cracking with urgency.

 

“Then finish what you started.”

Comments

[sienata.livejournal.com]

oh wow. awesome! this is getting better and better. love it. i'm totally zonked, nothing smart to say (70 beers) but it's great and i'm really interested in it now. i dont mind that the mc doesn't have a name, and i didn't notice any tense issues.

good job, and i love your lj. i wish i knew how to make one for myself. :)

[noreins.livejournal.com]

I don't mind that he doesn't have a name...it adds to the intrigue, I think. And the tenses seem spot on to me, as does the storyline here. I'm definitely interested in finding out more, and not just about how their relationship goes from here.

Great job, Susan *hugs*

[brokeback1963.livejournal.com]

Oh Susan....I shouldn’t be reading this....I don’t think I can keep reading this, because I KNOW that it’s gonna make me cry and break my heart so hard.....I sense terrible deeply sad things here, in Mike’s destiny, in what they do (that job) and in our man without name life now in the present.

I loved this. I think that maybe I liked more how the two previous parts were written, I mean, it was our man POV, and maybe it’s more powerful than the narrator voice. Still, this was absolute magic, so haunting...


The last part was breathtaking...Left me undone.

**
He turns fully and takes a step closer, walking into the embrace the hand offers. “Do you really want to help me?”

Mike doesn’t say anything right away, just moves his cheek softly against the hand still resting there. His eyes fly open as he feels Mike’s hand trailing up his own arm and settling against his neck. Mike meets his gaze immediately, his eyes full of aching sadness and desperation, his voice cracking with urgency.

“Then finish what you started.”
**

This is brilliant, you are brilliant. This is a winner....but I don’t know if I want to keep reading.....I’m dealing with sad stuff these days in my life....and I don’t want to get a heart broken again...**sigh** I alerady feel so bad for these young men...damn...

Hope you are ok and happy.

Lots of love and hugs.

Tammy.

[fizzerbass.livejournal.com]

There will be sadness for sure, but I think I've figured out a way for this to end happily. It might be a little contrived, a little "too good to be true" if you will, but it should be satisfying. Or at least I hope so!

Big hugs for you. I don't like hearing you're dealing with sadness.

{{{Tammy}}}

Love,
susan