Co-Dependent Vince/Eric Fic 4/?
Rating: Swearing and really mild violence.
Pairing: Eric/Vince or Vince/Eric
Author Notes: I have massive writer's block for the next chapter, it sucks, so if there is anything you want in here I am taking requests.
Summery: Eric was changed while Vince was gone and Vince is trying to figure it out.
“I was in that alleyway behind Pure, right? You know, that one where you got blown by that little redhead and her twin one after another?’ Vince does remember but he doesn’t interrupt or fail to notice that the shoulder brushing his has tensed again as E begins his story.
“So I was in the alleyway, and there were, like, these guys, these three big guys and they were drinking, they weren’t in the business, they were local guys, you could tell. Anyway, they had these…” and E cracked oddly here so Vince bumped his shoulder gently with his own and E took a deep breath and continued. “…these bottles of beer, green fucking bottles and they knew drunk and just ready for a fight, like we were before finals sophomore year, remember? They just, umm, surrounded me” E swallows hard before the word surrounded and Vince’s heart sinks.
“Their leader guy, this massive cocksucker, orders me to give him my wallet, so I do and then they ask for my phone and my watch and I do, because, shit, Vince, they were fucking huge and drunk and a little out of control.” There is a pleading note in E’s voice now.
“So I did, I uh, I gave them the watch you got me when I came out here, I just handed it over and I’m…I’m sorry” E whispers the apology, and Vince just reaches out and wraps his hand around E’s wrist because he can get E a new watch, and it doesn’t fucking matter at all, not compared to E or his safety and Vince doesn’t ever want E to be sorry because of the watch, not now, not ever, because he just wanted E to be okay and giving up the watch was nothing for that, nothing.
E nods gratefully, eyes on his lap and continues. “They were fucking angry, man they wanted a fight, so they accused me of holding out, of having something else but I didn’t and I told them so and they didn’t listen and one of them punched him, in the stomach, and I punched back and they all started in and I…I, well it just gets blurry from there, one of them got me in the ear, motherfucker, and I got a concussion somewhere in there so I wasn’t even fucking conscience when they got bored.”
Vince’s eyes a burning tears and he thinks its maybe because he hasn’t blinked in a while but maybe it’s because of the tiny cracks spider-webbing through E’s voice. “Someone must have found me and called 911 because the next thing I remember is waking up alone in a fucking hospital bed. That sucked, man,” the casualness of E’s words contrast the hollowness of his tone. “Really, and I couldn’t fucking move or see or anything so it took me a while to figure out what was going on, but when I did, I called the nurse, and well, I mean, we lucked out because they didn’t recognize me.”
Vince chokes as bile rises from his stomach at how relieved E sounds when he says, “we lucked out,” because they didn’t, not at all, E was in a hospital bed, alone, and Vince didn’t know and wouldn’t have to know because the press didn’t know, and that wasn’t fucking lucky, except it was because E deserved his fucking privacy and no fucking way would those cocksuckers have given it to him, so Vince is relieved but that doesn’t stop him from tightening his grip on E’s wrist and the look E flashes him is one of forgiveness not apology, for thinking it lucky that he didn’t have to know, didn’t have to be disturbed, and Vince is angry and worried because E is his best fucking friend in the whole fucking world and he should never need to worry about not being able to tell Vince something.
And that’s when it hits him, E is lying about this, not lying maybe, but obfuscating, reinterpreting events somehow, because there were times when E was obviously lost in painful recollection, and Vince doesn’t know how he knows, except he has know E since he was six, he can’t remember a time when E wasn’t most important person in his fucking world and somehow those years add up to the knowledge that there is something more here that E isn’t telling him, because E protects him, all the time no matter what, even when he shouldn’t and he really shouldn’t right now because Vince needs to be protecting him right now, it’s his turn and Vince is happy to step up because he fucking loves the little bitch even now as he lies.
But E has continued on unaware of Vince distraction, and Vince isn’t even sure E is aware that he is here anymore, he is truly lost in memory this time and words are falling hoarsely out his mouth, and Vince wonders if it hurts even as he refocuses on E words and not just the warm skin of his wrist below Vince’s fingers.
“-finally gave me a fucking phone, and I called Johnny and told him I was okay and safe and not to come no matter what, I got him to promise.” And Vince really wishes he hadn’t made Drama promise because he can still remember the sound of the word “alone” when E described waking up and no word should sound that fucking desolate in this crowded shithole of a city. “Then I called Shauna and told her what was what and she set me up with a fake name and stuff to recover under, thank god.”
E stops here for a second to clear his throat and cast worried look a Vince who just shakes his head and moves his hand from E’s wrist to the nape of his neck, pressing his palm against the soft flesh. E looks relieved and he shouldn’t because even though Vince is pissed as fuck that E would let concern for his career impede his chance of recovery in any way, because damn it, Vince knows that Vincent fucking Chase’s manager would get better fucking attention then Joe Street, but he isn’t going to yell at E now, not ever about this. Later they will talk though, at length.
E clears his throat again before he continues. “So I got my identity sorted, convinced the nurses that my cousin was a doctor, so they let me out in two days instead of a week, and I got Johnny to pretend to be my cousin, fucker really got into it too, doing a shit-ton of research, then asking a fuck-ton of questions anyway, Jesus, we could have been made. But we managed to get the fuck out of that hellhole,” and this is an alien thread of fear in E’s voice and Vince knows how much he’s hated hospital’s since his dad died, and that only makes it that much worse that he was there alone.
“And now, I’m… I feel… and I just want…” and E just trails off and his head slumps forward, so Vince just moves his hand up his neck a little, allowing his thumb and forefinger to brush up through E’s red hair and come gently to rest on the knobs of bone at the base of his skull, other fingers resting upon E’s hairline, and E just leans into the touch and is silent.
Vince wants to rest in this moment with E just a little longer, but more than that he wants E to sleep in a bed for a long fucking time. So he grips the back of E’s neck again and curls his other hand around E’s bicep and pulls E’s unresisting body to its feet. E, clearly exhausted by talking and lying to him, just leans towards him as Vince steers them towards the kitchen, but then E veers to the right following the hallway towards the used portion of the house which holds his study while Vince stays true towards the stairs.
Vince slides closer to steady E has he stumbles and tries to guide his towards the upstairs but E shakes his head “No, Vince. I can’t.”
“E…E, you’ve gotta sleep, man, you can’t keep on like this”
“I know, Vince. I know that. I do. But I can’t, not upstairs, not in a bed like…not in a bed, okay? Please? I just…I got a blanket and a sofa down there and it’s out of the way and I…I” and here E trails off again and Vince is glad because hearing E’s panicky voice beg him to consign E to an unused portion of the house like an embarrassing pet is making him feel a little dizzy, like he’s sea sick or something, and that makes sense because, shit, the floor of his world is shifting like fucking dingy in a thunderstorm, because he doesn’t know when E began lying to him about big stuff and feeling worthless enough to hide in random corners of the house, but fuck, it stops here.
“E, you gotta sleep in a real bed, okay, please, man? Just get some proper fucking sleep for a night. Here, we’ll go to my room, alright? And I will stay with you, you…you won’t have to wake up alone like…you won’t have to wake up alone.” Vince knows he’s won when E slumps against him and so pulls E a little closer and up the stairs into Vince’s room and there he pulls his hands off E and turns to his dresser to grab a clean T-shirt, which he find neatly folded in the top drawer by the maid E hired and hands it to E who stares at it for a second before slowly moving to unbutton his shirt.
E strips his shirt off and yanks the T-shirt on with an idle, disinterested air, then unbutton his pants and just steps on of them, and meets Vince’s eyes and shit, his eyes are so fucking blue that is almost hurts to look at them so Vince flicks his eyes to E’s sock clad feet and when he looks up E is looking at the bed, looking so small and lost and a little afraid, none of which a normal for E, that Vince gets worried that he is going cry like bitch but instead, he nudges E towards the bed and under the covers and E is asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow because E’s body is finally fighting back and the fucker is still healing so where does he get off on not sleeping?
The room feels a little bigger then it has ever felt before as Vince pulls a chair up to the sides of his bed, props his bare feet up on the edge of the bed and settles in for a long night of friend-watching, because even though this was never how Vince imagined E is his bed, normally he was conscience and present, not like the weirdly absent distracted E who had been living in his friend’s body since he got back. This may not be what Vince had imagined, but damn it, E was going to stay in that bed and sleep and Vince was going to watch him all night to make fucking sure the little bastard does.
Pairing: Eric/Vince or Vince/Eric
Author Notes: I have massive writer's block for the next chapter, it sucks, so if there is anything you want in here I am taking requests.
Summery: Eric was changed while Vince was gone and Vince is trying to figure it out.
“I was in that alleyway behind Pure, right? You know, that one where you got blown by that little redhead and her twin one after another?’ Vince does remember but he doesn’t interrupt or fail to notice that the shoulder brushing his has tensed again as E begins his story.
“So I was in the alleyway, and there were, like, these guys, these three big guys and they were drinking, they weren’t in the business, they were local guys, you could tell. Anyway, they had these…” and E cracked oddly here so Vince bumped his shoulder gently with his own and E took a deep breath and continued. “…these bottles of beer, green fucking bottles and they knew drunk and just ready for a fight, like we were before finals sophomore year, remember? They just, umm, surrounded me” E swallows hard before the word surrounded and Vince’s heart sinks.
“Their leader guy, this massive cocksucker, orders me to give him my wallet, so I do and then they ask for my phone and my watch and I do, because, shit, Vince, they were fucking huge and drunk and a little out of control.” There is a pleading note in E’s voice now.
“So I did, I uh, I gave them the watch you got me when I came out here, I just handed it over and I’m…I’m sorry” E whispers the apology, and Vince just reaches out and wraps his hand around E’s wrist because he can get E a new watch, and it doesn’t fucking matter at all, not compared to E or his safety and Vince doesn’t ever want E to be sorry because of the watch, not now, not ever, because he just wanted E to be okay and giving up the watch was nothing for that, nothing.
E nods gratefully, eyes on his lap and continues. “They were fucking angry, man they wanted a fight, so they accused me of holding out, of having something else but I didn’t and I told them so and they didn’t listen and one of them punched him, in the stomach, and I punched back and they all started in and I…I, well it just gets blurry from there, one of them got me in the ear, motherfucker, and I got a concussion somewhere in there so I wasn’t even fucking conscience when they got bored.”
Vince’s eyes a burning tears and he thinks its maybe because he hasn’t blinked in a while but maybe it’s because of the tiny cracks spider-webbing through E’s voice. “Someone must have found me and called 911 because the next thing I remember is waking up alone in a fucking hospital bed. That sucked, man,” the casualness of E’s words contrast the hollowness of his tone. “Really, and I couldn’t fucking move or see or anything so it took me a while to figure out what was going on, but when I did, I called the nurse, and well, I mean, we lucked out because they didn’t recognize me.”
Vince chokes as bile rises from his stomach at how relieved E sounds when he says, “we lucked out,” because they didn’t, not at all, E was in a hospital bed, alone, and Vince didn’t know and wouldn’t have to know because the press didn’t know, and that wasn’t fucking lucky, except it was because E deserved his fucking privacy and no fucking way would those cocksuckers have given it to him, so Vince is relieved but that doesn’t stop him from tightening his grip on E’s wrist and the look E flashes him is one of forgiveness not apology, for thinking it lucky that he didn’t have to know, didn’t have to be disturbed, and Vince is angry and worried because E is his best fucking friend in the whole fucking world and he should never need to worry about not being able to tell Vince something.
And that’s when it hits him, E is lying about this, not lying maybe, but obfuscating, reinterpreting events somehow, because there were times when E was obviously lost in painful recollection, and Vince doesn’t know how he knows, except he has know E since he was six, he can’t remember a time when E wasn’t most important person in his fucking world and somehow those years add up to the knowledge that there is something more here that E isn’t telling him, because E protects him, all the time no matter what, even when he shouldn’t and he really shouldn’t right now because Vince needs to be protecting him right now, it’s his turn and Vince is happy to step up because he fucking loves the little bitch even now as he lies.
But E has continued on unaware of Vince distraction, and Vince isn’t even sure E is aware that he is here anymore, he is truly lost in memory this time and words are falling hoarsely out his mouth, and Vince wonders if it hurts even as he refocuses on E words and not just the warm skin of his wrist below Vince’s fingers.
“-finally gave me a fucking phone, and I called Johnny and told him I was okay and safe and not to come no matter what, I got him to promise.” And Vince really wishes he hadn’t made Drama promise because he can still remember the sound of the word “alone” when E described waking up and no word should sound that fucking desolate in this crowded shithole of a city. “Then I called Shauna and told her what was what and she set me up with a fake name and stuff to recover under, thank god.”
E stops here for a second to clear his throat and cast worried look a Vince who just shakes his head and moves his hand from E’s wrist to the nape of his neck, pressing his palm against the soft flesh. E looks relieved and he shouldn’t because even though Vince is pissed as fuck that E would let concern for his career impede his chance of recovery in any way, because damn it, Vince knows that Vincent fucking Chase’s manager would get better fucking attention then Joe Street, but he isn’t going to yell at E now, not ever about this. Later they will talk though, at length.
E clears his throat again before he continues. “So I got my identity sorted, convinced the nurses that my cousin was a doctor, so they let me out in two days instead of a week, and I got Johnny to pretend to be my cousin, fucker really got into it too, doing a shit-ton of research, then asking a fuck-ton of questions anyway, Jesus, we could have been made. But we managed to get the fuck out of that hellhole,” and this is an alien thread of fear in E’s voice and Vince knows how much he’s hated hospital’s since his dad died, and that only makes it that much worse that he was there alone.
“And now, I’m… I feel… and I just want…” and E just trails off and his head slumps forward, so Vince just moves his hand up his neck a little, allowing his thumb and forefinger to brush up through E’s red hair and come gently to rest on the knobs of bone at the base of his skull, other fingers resting upon E’s hairline, and E just leans into the touch and is silent.
Vince wants to rest in this moment with E just a little longer, but more than that he wants E to sleep in a bed for a long fucking time. So he grips the back of E’s neck again and curls his other hand around E’s bicep and pulls E’s unresisting body to its feet. E, clearly exhausted by talking and lying to him, just leans towards him as Vince steers them towards the kitchen, but then E veers to the right following the hallway towards the used portion of the house which holds his study while Vince stays true towards the stairs.
Vince slides closer to steady E has he stumbles and tries to guide his towards the upstairs but E shakes his head “No, Vince. I can’t.”
“E…E, you’ve gotta sleep, man, you can’t keep on like this”
“I know, Vince. I know that. I do. But I can’t, not upstairs, not in a bed like…not in a bed, okay? Please? I just…I got a blanket and a sofa down there and it’s out of the way and I…I” and here E trails off again and Vince is glad because hearing E’s panicky voice beg him to consign E to an unused portion of the house like an embarrassing pet is making him feel a little dizzy, like he’s sea sick or something, and that makes sense because, shit, the floor of his world is shifting like fucking dingy in a thunderstorm, because he doesn’t know when E began lying to him about big stuff and feeling worthless enough to hide in random corners of the house, but fuck, it stops here.
“E, you gotta sleep in a real bed, okay, please, man? Just get some proper fucking sleep for a night. Here, we’ll go to my room, alright? And I will stay with you, you…you won’t have to wake up alone like…you won’t have to wake up alone.” Vince knows he’s won when E slumps against him and so pulls E a little closer and up the stairs into Vince’s room and there he pulls his hands off E and turns to his dresser to grab a clean T-shirt, which he find neatly folded in the top drawer by the maid E hired and hands it to E who stares at it for a second before slowly moving to unbutton his shirt.
E strips his shirt off and yanks the T-shirt on with an idle, disinterested air, then unbutton his pants and just steps on of them, and meets Vince’s eyes and shit, his eyes are so fucking blue that is almost hurts to look at them so Vince flicks his eyes to E’s sock clad feet and when he looks up E is looking at the bed, looking so small and lost and a little afraid, none of which a normal for E, that Vince gets worried that he is going cry like bitch but instead, he nudges E towards the bed and under the covers and E is asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow because E’s body is finally fighting back and the fucker is still healing so where does he get off on not sleeping?
The room feels a little bigger then it has ever felt before as Vince pulls a chair up to the sides of his bed, props his bare feet up on the edge of the bed and settles in for a long night of friend-watching, because even though this was never how Vince imagined E is his bed, normally he was conscience and present, not like the weirdly absent distracted E who had been living in his friend’s body since he got back. This may not be what Vince had imagined, but damn it, E was going to stay in that bed and sleep and Vince was going to watch him all night to make fucking sure the little bastard does.