shadows_have_offended | (no subject)

Entry tags:

guy burgess,
ig

(no subject)

They haven't spoken much since that night, though Neil's made the effort to check in when he can, and when Guy will make the effort to let him know that he's alive right back. Phones are, for neither of them, a forte. Often, Neil forgets that he even has his. But it's good for convenience, and so that he has a line to Guy on the chance that his friend wishes to reach out in the midst of all he's going through.

Neil thinks they're friends. He'd like that, at least. As he's told Guy, he doesn't have many, and he's lost quite a few.

But for the most part, he gives Guy his space. He remembers the trauma of his arrival, of adapting to Darrow, and in some ways, Neil thinks that learning his future might be for Guy what arriving in Darrow was for Neil. Twice over, now, since the arrival is itself a trauma. So he goes to work, he completes and sends off his application to college, and he does not think of the photographs hidden in his desk, sent to him by Guy. Now, knowing he's a spy, they make sense. He still doesn't know what to do with them, though.

He still doesn't know what to do about a lot of things.

The repetition of his life makes him a predictable creature. Neil's a little sad for that. Sometimes, he does think of their night out at the club; it was nice, until it went sour, just because it was something he didn't do very much of. He misses being rebellious and free.

Which is, maybe, how he ends up standing at the end of the block, looking at the lines that go into the clubs, trying to steel himself up.

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As often happened after an extended binge, Guy stopped not because he felt better, or because he had drowned and forgotten the future, or any of the things he had hoped for but knew were impossible. Instead, he stopped because he was full. Done drinking.Enough.

It had been some days now, and Guy was still felt dreadful, but the knowledge had been given a place in his head. It was a fact. He would cope.

Neil was a dear through it all, so when he felt -what passed for- better, he texted.

Still alive came the short text. Up for an evening? Promise I'll behave.

He's surprised when he feels his phone vibrate, fishes it out of his pocket, and smiles a little bit. For a moment, he doesn't respond, trying to figure out if it's a terribly goofy things to try and send a picture-text.

In the end, he just replies I'm at the club we went to.

And then, a moment later, he does send a picture. He's dressed up a little bit better than just his sweater and jeans from last time, and he's smiling and winking cheekily, and it's all very silly he thinks. But it's sent and he can't take it back now.

Guy smiled to himself. The phones of the day were ridiculous, but to be able to take pictures, that was a damned good invention. The picture was chaste and cheeky, and very much something Neil would probably blush over later. But it made Guy believe there were no hard feelings, so that was good.

He appeared at the club a while later, looking quite like himself again. He finished his cigarette hurriedly before going inside and set out to look for Neil.

Neil's been in for a moment, having headed in once he'd sent the text and photo. He's been dancing a little bit, and it's better than the last time. When he sees Guy through the crowd, he smiles, and breaks away from the crowd. He wasn't dancing with anyone, just in the mesh of bodies.

When he reaches Guy, he smiles. "Hi!"

Guy leaned in and kissed Neil on the cheek in greeting, with a small squeeze to his arm. "Hullo, darling," he said, more cheerful than he felt - but that was quite alright.

"Hard to resist such a picture," he teased.

“Glad I could be at least a little irresistible,” Neil says with an amiable roll of his eyes, an easy smile. He’s had a drink already, something closely guarded this time, and he feels nice at the moment. “Let’s get a drink?”

"Let's get a drink," Guy agreed, and was alright following Neil for a change.

Guy didn't have a method for compartmentalizing. He didn't have a way to box and stow away any information, or emotion. He felt everything and could only cover it with something louder; with alcohol, with outrageousness or with sex. And with time, the information could settle, and he could handle it, and be fine. It might rear its ugly head at the most unexpected of times, and it might depress him and hurt. But then he would just cover it again with something louder, or with something that mattered more than his own personal feelings.

In England that something had been politics, and he had thrown himself into Communism with a passion. Here, he thought he might do something to make Neil’s life here everything it was never allowed to be where he came from.

The boy didn’t know what he wanted in his life here, and Guy’s answer was simple: want it all, want it now. Neil just had to be convinced of that.

“So, tell me,” he asked, as he motioned the barkeeper. “What made you come here tonight?”

If it's Guy's intention to encourage Neil's deviance, he's found a good night to do it. Neil's already got it in his head, however small an idea it is. He's had such stumbling in Darrow--the teacher that made spring classes miserable, his disastrous relationship with Gabriel--but Neil's not letting that stop him now.

"I've decided," Neil says, leaning into the bar but not sitting. He's full of energy, a little manic, and it does him good tonight. Makes him a little more bold, a little more confident. "I've decided that I'm tired of letting other, little people decide things for me. I spent all that time in Welton being told how to live--my father, and my teachers, everybody. I managed it a little while in Darrow, and then I got all messed up again. And I'm just...tired of it."

He ruffles his fingers into his hair and gives Guy a cheeky sort of smile. "I've had moments of being bold, besides letting you take me home, you know. I didn't walk totally blind into that."

Infinitely pleased by Neil's news, Guy smiled. "I didn't think for a second that you did," he assured. "But what splendid news! And what an excellent place you have picked to start thinking for yourself." He grinned cheekily and ordered scotch and soda for Neil and a straight one for himself. (Oh, Neil might be encouraged to think for himself, and not let others decide for him, but Guy would not assume that counted for him as such, so he felt no qualms ordering a drink for the boy without asking him what he wanted to drink.) "Can't wait to see that boldness imposed on someone here."

"Light on the soda," Neil says as the bartender starts to make the drink, just because he's feeling that kind of contrary way. He doesn't mind the drink being ordered for him, and he lays his trust neatly at Guy's feet once more.

His smile is gentle, sweet. "Maybe I'll impose it on you a little," he teases, but if he's perfectly honest he already expects to be rebuffed. Neil has no designs that he and Guy might fall into anything, but he did have a lot of fun their one night together, and he certainly wouldn't be upset by something happening again.

And, anyway, it's a good way to practice flirting. "You have to dance with me, at least. Since I dragged you out. And I was awfully good luck for you, last time."

There weren't many people Guy fucked more than once. He had Ellie, his boy, who happened upon his bed regularly, and Billy, who had been 'a regular' until recently.

But a little smile and a little flirtation were welcomed and Guy didn't mind it at all. "Mm, I wouldn't dare refuse." He did put his hand on Neil's back, flirtatious in return.

Their drinks came and Neil sips steadily, wanting to be drunk more than he wants to savor anything. It isn’t good scotch anyway. But Guy’s hand on his back is a balmy comfort, something that makes him feel resolute in this decision at least.

Confessionally, Neil leans toward Guy and says, “This is also to try and get over Gabriel.”

Neil sipped his drink, but kept going, which made Guy arch an eyebrow. It seemed boldness needed a little liquid encouragement. He wouldn't argue that.

"Ah," he replied, leaning in too, as if hearing a great secret. "He has attached himself quite adamantly to Anthony." And he wondered then, if getting attached to Guy was Neil's way of revenge - or of getting near Gabriel in some strange way. But he wouldn't assume that just yet. "Sounds like a very good plan; getting over him one man at the time."

"I'm glad he's happy," Neil says, and means it in a way. He wants him to be happy, and that seems to be happening from the little bit he's managed to glean from what's going on with him and Anthony. He tries not to pry.

Neil looks out over the crowd. It's a good crowd and the music is loud enough to drown out a lot of the noise in his head.

"And I deserve to have a good time."

Guy couldn't imagine that would last. He could imagine boys swooning over Anthony, and Anthony pulling off some kind of charm. But he couldn't imagine anyone happy would remain in Anthony's proximity very long. But while it lasted, it seemed Anthony was quite pleased with the young man in his bed as well. That made the boy tolerable, at least.

"You most certainly do," Guy agreed. He put his chin on Neil's shoulder, to look into the crowd with him. "Are you sure you want to waste time dancing with me?"

"Yes," Neil says with a confidence that's only surface deep. He turns his head a little and brushes a kiss against Guy's forehead. It's more casual affection than deep intimacy; they're both from a time where that wasn't such a taboo thing, for men to touch. Darrow, for all that it speaks of kindness, has a lot of rules about casual touching that Neil has had to learn very quickly over the last year and a half.

Here, and with Guy, he doesn't feel like he needs to worry so much. "I like dancing with you. And I feel like I owe you a better night than last time, since I made such a mess of it."

Well, Guy was English. Men touching was something reserved for aesthetes and undergraduates. But it want frowned upon, as such. Not as much as it might have if it was known what Guy enjoyed doing to aesthetes and undergraduates.

"Are you going to keep blaming yourself for that? It gets old. And if we are to dance, it should be guilt-free."

"I am going to keep being sorry that you had to cut your night short, yes," Neil says, to say nothing of the rest of the night. He tries not to think about that. It's hardly a matter of blame, anyway, but he had gotten cross, and been the reason for Guy darting away from a good evening, and until Guy actually accepts an apology, Neil figures he ought to make up for it.

He considers another drink, just for the fortification, but thinks he ought to let this one settle a little first.

"Come on," he says with a smile, and tugs at Guy's sleeve.

If Neil wanted Guy to shut up and accept the apology, he would be disappointed. Guy had no intention of it.

He did gladly let himself be tugged onto the dance floor.

With a hand on Neil's hip, he danced, and decided he wouldn't impose anyone on the boy unless he clearly wanted to be imposed upon.

For a moment, Neil settles for the single hand. But in the crush of the crowd, the noise of the music around them, he presses back into Guy a little and grabs both his hands. It's about the familiarity, just then. About having someone he knows there with him. And, he hopes, that his enthusiasm for being out tonight is at least a little contagious.

He can't imagine how miserable Guy must be, with all the news from home. So if he can help with distraction, he's glad to.

His enthusiasm wasn't just contagious, but the way Neil was pressing against him, and moving his hips, it was hard not to physically react to it. Distraction was a good thing.

It was good to have just this for a while - the dancing, the touch, the music. It drowned out everything else.

He didn't stop himself then, from a kiss to Neil's neck.

When Neil says that teasing is fun, this is precisely what he means. He can feel Guy behind him, quick and close, and the warmth of his breath in that kiss. He lingers in it for a moment and then he puts a little bit of space between them. When he turns to face him, he's smiling, bright and brilliant.

He leans in and kisses Guy on the mouth, brief but intent. "I'm getting another drink. Want one?"

The kiss was too brief, but Guy appreciated the teasing of it and smiled. He nodded to the offer of a drink, and followed.

A pretty face looked at him and he winked, but put a hand on Neil's back not to loose track of him. He wasn't getting distracted tonight.

It's hardly Neil's intention to monopolize Guy all night, whether he finds the courage to wander off with someone else or not. But there is something about catching that exchange, of seeing someone glance over them and still retaining that attention, that thrills him for a moment.

At the bar, he orders for them--scotch for Guy, and a long island for himself this time. He reaches back for Guy and pulls him in close to him while they wait for their drinks, giving plenty of space for other people to squeeze up to the bar.

Guy was pulled in, and put his hands on Neil's hips. He didn't want to hoard the boy all night - he should be free to wander off with someone else - but if he was pulled in, he didn't mind taking a little advantage of that. "Is that just an excuse to get close to me?" He teased, lips practically against his ear.