Glass Houses 12.15
Title: Glass Houses
Fandom: RPS
Story: Highway: Press Run 12.15
Characters: Alan Davies and Robert Sean Leonard
Authors: michelleann68 + evila_elf = evila_ann
Prompt: 10_per_genre 03 Foot-in-Mouth (Drama)
Word Count: 746
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Stephen decides to have a little chat with Alan.
Authors’ Notes: Feel free to friend us if you want to read a day ahead of the communities.
Where it all began:
Big table of prompts is here:
Order of the story is here:
Previous story:
The Watercooler
A/N: We were asked about Stephen and Hugh's relationship in an anon comment. Figured we might as well answer here to make sure Anon gets it and to enlighten the rest of you:
To keep it short: Hugh and Stephen have am on-again off-again intimate relationship that is rooted to their deep friendship. Even though Hugh is married to Jo, he quite often turns to Stephen.
Alan groaned softly, his head already killing him before he opened his eyes. He swallowed thickly and slitted them open, able to tell from the odd décor that he was at Stephen’s. He sat up. Slowly. It had been years since he had drank enough to pass out dead to the world, but he did remember that slow moving was good and no moving was best. On a little wooden card table sat a glass of water and a few pills. Probably paracetamol. He plopped them in his mouth and chased them down, then drained the rest of the glass.
He listened carefully after setting the empty glass back down. With luck, Stephen was still in bed. He stood, went to take a step, them promptly fell over, his feet tangling in the bedding. Then toes appeared in his line of sight.
“Up, or down, rather early this morning, are we?”
“Uugh.” It was the best he could do, and he really didn’t want to get up. The pills had yet to take effect and he was getting sleepy again. He turned to his side and curled up, making a grab for the blankets still covering his feet, trying to pull them up over himself so he could resume his nap.
“Oh, no you don’t.”
And the blankets were whipped completely off. This time he turned on to his back and glared in Stephen’s general direction before trying to sit up and stand. Sitting took two attempts, standing took three. And an armchair.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Stephen said as Alan tried to wander off somewhere.
“Bathroom. Need to piss,” he grumbled.
“Second to the right.”
Alan closed the door behind him. He splashed some water on his face, then relieved his uncomfortably full bladder. He washed his hands, then splashed more water on his face, leaning over the sink and staring at his reflection as water dripped off his nose. His eyes were bloodshot and had bags under them. God, he looked a mess. Alan ran a damp hand through his curls, trying to fluff some life back into them. He gave up and dried his face on the edge of his shirt before shuffling his way back into the living room.
Stephen was relaxing in a chair and looked up when Alan reentered the room. “I talked to Hugh last night. Had a very enlightening conversation. Sit,” he motioned to a chair next to him, leaving no room for arguments.
Alan went from standing awkwardly in the middle of the room to sitting awkwardly next to Stephen. He definitely did not want to have this conversation.
“Now. What’s this I hear about you calling it off with dear Robert?”
“Wasn’t working,” Alan mumbled to his lap.
“Wasn’t the impression I had gotten.”
“The thought of us as a couple made him uncomfortable.”
“Maybe being out and about, as it were, wasn’t easy for him?”
Alan sighed, realizing that he wasn’t going to get out of having this conversation. “He doesn’t love me. Not once in over a year and a half has he said it. He changed the subject if we got too involved in planning a future together. Then a few pictures come out and he is kissing this blonde slapper!” The release of anger felt good.
“He still cares for y--”
Alan held up a hand. “Don’t. I’m not taking him back, so save your breath.”
“Some things are worth wasted breath on…”
“Are you one to talk? Your lover is married!” Alan was still wrapped up in his rage, but stopped with wide eyes when he realized what he had said.
Stephen frowned, a look of hurt crossing his face and they both lowered their gaze to the carpet. When next he spoke, his voice was soft, “Did you know that once Hugh had offered to leave his lovely Jo for me? I called him a sad fuck and didn’t speak with him for a fortnight and then we never mentioned it again. Don’t you dare think that I don’t yearn to have him all to myself, that I wonder what would have been different had I said ‘Please.’ You wouldn’t have met your Robert, for one.” He stood abruptly, stalking off and leaving Alan alone.
Alan slowly stood, listening to make sure that Stephen wasn’t coming back. He felt awful for what he had said. “Shit,” he whispered under his breath as he quietly let himself out.
12.16 Making Amends
Fandom: RPS
Story: Highway: Press Run 12.15
Characters: Alan Davies and Robert Sean Leonard
Authors: michelleann68 + evila_elf = evila_ann
Prompt: 10_per_genre 03 Foot-in-Mouth (Drama)
Word Count: 746
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Stephen decides to have a little chat with Alan.
Authors’ Notes: Feel free to friend us if you want to read a day ahead of the communities.
Where it all began:
Big table of prompts is here:
Order of the story is here:
Previous story:
The Watercooler
A/N: We were asked about Stephen and Hugh's relationship in an anon comment. Figured we might as well answer here to make sure Anon gets it and to enlighten the rest of you:
To keep it short: Hugh and Stephen have am on-again off-again intimate relationship that is rooted to their deep friendship. Even though Hugh is married to Jo, he quite often turns to Stephen.
Alan groaned softly, his head already killing him before he opened his eyes. He swallowed thickly and slitted them open, able to tell from the odd décor that he was at Stephen’s. He sat up. Slowly. It had been years since he had drank enough to pass out dead to the world, but he did remember that slow moving was good and no moving was best. On a little wooden card table sat a glass of water and a few pills. Probably paracetamol. He plopped them in his mouth and chased them down, then drained the rest of the glass.
He listened carefully after setting the empty glass back down. With luck, Stephen was still in bed. He stood, went to take a step, them promptly fell over, his feet tangling in the bedding. Then toes appeared in his line of sight.
“Up, or down, rather early this morning, are we?”
“Uugh.” It was the best he could do, and he really didn’t want to get up. The pills had yet to take effect and he was getting sleepy again. He turned to his side and curled up, making a grab for the blankets still covering his feet, trying to pull them up over himself so he could resume his nap.
“Oh, no you don’t.”
And the blankets were whipped completely off. This time he turned on to his back and glared in Stephen’s general direction before trying to sit up and stand. Sitting took two attempts, standing took three. And an armchair.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Stephen said as Alan tried to wander off somewhere.
“Bathroom. Need to piss,” he grumbled.
“Second to the right.”
Alan closed the door behind him. He splashed some water on his face, then relieved his uncomfortably full bladder. He washed his hands, then splashed more water on his face, leaning over the sink and staring at his reflection as water dripped off his nose. His eyes were bloodshot and had bags under them. God, he looked a mess. Alan ran a damp hand through his curls, trying to fluff some life back into them. He gave up and dried his face on the edge of his shirt before shuffling his way back into the living room.
Stephen was relaxing in a chair and looked up when Alan reentered the room. “I talked to Hugh last night. Had a very enlightening conversation. Sit,” he motioned to a chair next to him, leaving no room for arguments.
Alan went from standing awkwardly in the middle of the room to sitting awkwardly next to Stephen. He definitely did not want to have this conversation.
“Now. What’s this I hear about you calling it off with dear Robert?”
“Wasn’t working,” Alan mumbled to his lap.
“Wasn’t the impression I had gotten.”
“The thought of us as a couple made him uncomfortable.”
“Maybe being out and about, as it were, wasn’t easy for him?”
Alan sighed, realizing that he wasn’t going to get out of having this conversation. “He doesn’t love me. Not once in over a year and a half has he said it. He changed the subject if we got too involved in planning a future together. Then a few pictures come out and he is kissing this blonde slapper!” The release of anger felt good.
“He still cares for y--”
Alan held up a hand. “Don’t. I’m not taking him back, so save your breath.”
“Some things are worth wasted breath on…”
“Are you one to talk? Your lover is married!” Alan was still wrapped up in his rage, but stopped with wide eyes when he realized what he had said.
Stephen frowned, a look of hurt crossing his face and they both lowered their gaze to the carpet. When next he spoke, his voice was soft, “Did you know that once Hugh had offered to leave his lovely Jo for me? I called him a sad fuck and didn’t speak with him for a fortnight and then we never mentioned it again. Don’t you dare think that I don’t yearn to have him all to myself, that I wonder what would have been different had I said ‘Please.’ You wouldn’t have met your Robert, for one.” He stood abruptly, stalking off and leaving Alan alone.
Alan slowly stood, listening to make sure that Stephen wasn’t coming back. He felt awful for what he had said. “Shit,” he whispered under his breath as he quietly let himself out.
12.16 Making Amends