I've always been crazy, but it's kept me from going insane.
Author's Note: Once upon a time in an LJ not quite unlike this one, erinm_4600 had a creepy experience and wrote about it. I asked her if she wanted Bradley to beat him up. She said yes.
This is the result.
Bradley had probably gone out for a cigarette. It was something Margaret had been trying to break him from since the day she met him, but she wasn’t succeeding. She supposed, however, compared to what he could be doing, smoking wasn’t that bad. She had seen him earlier sneak out the back way and figured she would find him there. Letting the delivery door slam shut behind her, she made her way down the alleyway. She was letting her attention wander and not paying attention when a guy came stumbling out in front of her.
“Woah!” she shouted. “Are you--” Then she caught sight of Bradley, an intense look in his eyes that never had boded well for anyone.
“What’s going on?” she asked, but all Bradley did was point his thumb behind him before walking towards the guy. Margaret walked around the corner and saw DG huddled up against the church building, her arms wrapped around herself. Margaret quickly made her way down the street to where her friend was standing.
“What happened? Are you okay?” Margaret asked, her concern skyrocketing as she noticed the fear emitting off of DG. DG shook her head and wrapped her arms tighter around herself.
“Come on honey, let’s go.” Margaret said, placing a hand on DG’s forearm. DG let herself be led through the alleyway, barely noticing Bradley punching the guy. Margaret placed her in Henry’s office with the promise of being back soon.
“You and me are heading back to my apartment,” Margaret announced. DG nodded, no really caring that this would leave the bar short two bartenders. When they got to Margaret’s car, Bradley was there not entirely looking worse for the wear.
“You okay?” he asked DG. “He didn’t touch you or anything?”
DG shook her head. “No, nothing like that.”
“Where’s Wyatt?” Margaret asked her as the car doors unlocked.
“One of his friends called and asked him to meet him at the emergency room.” She sat down in the car and leaned her head against the window as they drove away.
“See you Sunday?” Margaret asked Bradley.
“Sunday, it is.” With a slap to the car door, he was gone.
“Come on, DG, time to get out.” Margaret said, waking DG from her daze.
“That was quick,” DG noted.
Margaret laughed.“That was forty-five minutes.”
DG stepped out of the car. “We’re not--”
Margaret interrupted her. “I figured you should stay with me. Heaven knows as lovely as your two boys are, they aren’t female. I though you could use some estrogen. So we’re at my place.” She motioned to DG. “You’ve only got a flight of stairs and a very long hallway to cross.”
Their walk was made in silence until they reached Margaret’s apartment. “Home sweet home,” Margaret said, flipping on the lights. “Bathroom’s right there, kitchen’s here and couch is there. I’ll get you some pajamas.”
“You didn’t have to do this.” DG said, crossing the apartment. Margaret’s reply was lost behind the closed bedroom door.
“Here you go,” a pajama-clad Margaret handed her a pair of yoga pants and an oversized t-shirt. “You can change in the bedroom.” DG gave her a grateful look and went in the room. Margaret was sitting on the couch, cross-legged, with two mugs in her hands when DG exited.
“So what happened?” she asked as DG slipped down next to her. DG took a sip of the hot coca before answering.
“I was going to go over to Sal’s for a piece of pizza since he has my favorite kind tonight. As I was going down the alley, this guy just comes in front of me and starts making me feel uncomfortable--invading my personal space and telling me about all the ways he’s going to make me feel ‘good’.”
“But he didn’t touch you or anything like that?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
“Why are you asking?” DG’s tone came out more hostile than what she intended.
“My brother’s an FBI agent. He’s given me numerous lectures. Then what happened?”
“He has backed up against the wall of St. Joe’s and trying to proposition me. Then Bradley shows up and starts beating him up. Then well, you know the rest.”
“Believe me, if that guy is drunk, he won’t be forgetting the lesson that Bradley taught him. Anyways, do you want to call Wyatt or do you want me to?”
DG shook her head. “He should stay with Steve. I’ll tell him tomorrow.”
“You sure sweetie?” Margaret asked, putting a hand over DG’s forearm. DG nodded. “I have to open tomorrow so I need to get to bed. I’ll help you make up the couch and you stay here as long as you need to, okay?” Ten minutes later saw DG lying down on the sleeper part of the sleeper sofa.
“Good night, DG.”
“Thanks Mags.”
Margaret grinned sleepily and then slapped her forehead. “ I can’t believe I keep forgetting to tell you this. Dr. Anderson was at the bar the last time the band played. He said he would definitely recommend them when that part of the planning came up.”
DG let out a small smile at that news. “Let’s get them through Halloween first before telling them that.”
Margaret giggled. “If you need anything, just holler.”
“Night, Mags.”
This is the result.
Bradley had probably gone out for a cigarette. It was something Margaret had been trying to break him from since the day she met him, but she wasn’t succeeding. She supposed, however, compared to what he could be doing, smoking wasn’t that bad. She had seen him earlier sneak out the back way and figured she would find him there. Letting the delivery door slam shut behind her, she made her way down the alleyway. She was letting her attention wander and not paying attention when a guy came stumbling out in front of her.
“Woah!” she shouted. “Are you--” Then she caught sight of Bradley, an intense look in his eyes that never had boded well for anyone.
“What’s going on?” she asked, but all Bradley did was point his thumb behind him before walking towards the guy. Margaret walked around the corner and saw DG huddled up against the church building, her arms wrapped around herself. Margaret quickly made her way down the street to where her friend was standing.
“What happened? Are you okay?” Margaret asked, her concern skyrocketing as she noticed the fear emitting off of DG. DG shook her head and wrapped her arms tighter around herself.
“Come on honey, let’s go.” Margaret said, placing a hand on DG’s forearm. DG let herself be led through the alleyway, barely noticing Bradley punching the guy. Margaret placed her in Henry’s office with the promise of being back soon.
“You and me are heading back to my apartment,” Margaret announced. DG nodded, no really caring that this would leave the bar short two bartenders. When they got to Margaret’s car, Bradley was there not entirely looking worse for the wear.
“You okay?” he asked DG. “He didn’t touch you or anything?”
DG shook her head. “No, nothing like that.”
“Where’s Wyatt?” Margaret asked her as the car doors unlocked.
“One of his friends called and asked him to meet him at the emergency room.” She sat down in the car and leaned her head against the window as they drove away.
“See you Sunday?” Margaret asked Bradley.
“Sunday, it is.” With a slap to the car door, he was gone.
“Come on, DG, time to get out.” Margaret said, waking DG from her daze.
“That was quick,” DG noted.
Margaret laughed.“That was forty-five minutes.”
DG stepped out of the car. “We’re not--”
Margaret interrupted her. “I figured you should stay with me. Heaven knows as lovely as your two boys are, they aren’t female. I though you could use some estrogen. So we’re at my place.” She motioned to DG. “You’ve only got a flight of stairs and a very long hallway to cross.”
Their walk was made in silence until they reached Margaret’s apartment. “Home sweet home,” Margaret said, flipping on the lights. “Bathroom’s right there, kitchen’s here and couch is there. I’ll get you some pajamas.”
“You didn’t have to do this.” DG said, crossing the apartment. Margaret’s reply was lost behind the closed bedroom door.
“Here you go,” a pajama-clad Margaret handed her a pair of yoga pants and an oversized t-shirt. “You can change in the bedroom.” DG gave her a grateful look and went in the room. Margaret was sitting on the couch, cross-legged, with two mugs in her hands when DG exited.
“So what happened?” she asked as DG slipped down next to her. DG took a sip of the hot coca before answering.
“I was going to go over to Sal’s for a piece of pizza since he has my favorite kind tonight. As I was going down the alley, this guy just comes in front of me and starts making me feel uncomfortable--invading my personal space and telling me about all the ways he’s going to make me feel ‘good’.”
“But he didn’t touch you or anything like that?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
“Why are you asking?” DG’s tone came out more hostile than what she intended.
“My brother’s an FBI agent. He’s given me numerous lectures. Then what happened?”
“He has backed up against the wall of St. Joe’s and trying to proposition me. Then Bradley shows up and starts beating him up. Then well, you know the rest.”
“Believe me, if that guy is drunk, he won’t be forgetting the lesson that Bradley taught him. Anyways, do you want to call Wyatt or do you want me to?”
DG shook her head. “He should stay with Steve. I’ll tell him tomorrow.”
“You sure sweetie?” Margaret asked, putting a hand over DG’s forearm. DG nodded. “I have to open tomorrow so I need to get to bed. I’ll help you make up the couch and you stay here as long as you need to, okay?” Ten minutes later saw DG lying down on the sleeper part of the sleeper sofa.
“Good night, DG.”
“Thanks Mags.”
Margaret grinned sleepily and then slapped her forehead. “ I can’t believe I keep forgetting to tell you this. Dr. Anderson was at the bar the last time the band played. He said he would definitely recommend them when that part of the planning came up.”
DG let out a small smile at that news. “Let’s get them through Halloween first before telling them that.”
Margaret giggled. “If you need anything, just holler.”
“Night, Mags.”