(no subject)
Who: Sam and Spencer
What: Drinking and 'consolation'.
When: Late night
Where: Bar
Why: Hee.
“And then, she tells me to get out.”
Sam finished recounting a longer than usual summary of the latest and not really greatest fight that he and Carly had just been through with a deep sigh, one that indicated not only exasperation, but resignation. He could not win, and he was aware of this. That didn’t stop him from trying to an almost redundant point.
And, an hour later, it always put him out with a friend, retelling the whole thing in various places. This time, it was at a bar, and currently, he was looking across the table and expecting sympathy from Spencer.
Spencer, being aware of what was expected of him, still hesitated as he sipped his drink. He didn’t feel bad about having alcohol in front of Sam, if the guy was going to be tempted after this many years of sobriety, there was just no hope for him.
What he did feel a little bad about, however, was that he didn’t feel bad. It sounded trivial, which was right up their alley, and within a day tops they’d be all over each other and having make up sex. As per usual.
Still, he had a requirement to fill, and he might as well fill it somehow. And after another minutes’ pause, Spencer found himself getting as far as one word.
“Well.”
“Yeah.” Sam muttered, taking that as enough to start, and sipping his own non-alcoholic drink quietly. He had the look, now, of a dog that had been kicked more times than it could remember. And it was more tired of it than anything else, but it still had just enough fight left to be irritated.
If he didn’t know better, Spencer would almost think Carly was beating the ‘poor’ guy. Such, of course, was not the case. He was fairly sure they’d both be acting significantly different if it was.
“So what’s she doing now?” He asked curiously, drinking down the last of the whiskey and motioning to the waitress for the next glass.
“She’s probably out.” Sam sighed again deeply, and the resignation was brought back once again. He checked his watch, and muttered something under his breath that Spencer couldn’t quite make out. “Slaying, probably.”
Looking at the clock a short distance from them, Spencer nodded. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” He toyed with his glass, wondering a few things right now. What an angry slayer was like in a fight, what Toby and Harry were doing right now, and if they could all drag Sam somewhere to do something more interesting if he called them.
The first part, he honestly wished he knew nothing about. But when you’re the medical examiner of a major city, you run into your fair share of weird corpses. And if you’re the medical examiner of a major city who probably has had Death over his shoulder since he was a small child like a stalker, you’re going to run into the reasons for those corpses way too often.
By that point, it’s either believe it, or go to a psych ward. And Spencer always thought he’d be too much for a psychiatrist to handle. So he believed. It helped you bullshit your way around the reason for the stranger deaths a little more if you knew what you were working with.
As far as Carly, he’d just guessed. He knew about demon hunters before he’d had a clue about slayers, and he’d been filled in on the rest when he’d assumed about what she was. He sort of liked the concept. It was pretty hot, these badass fighter chicks running around, saving the world and stuff. He didn’t know what Sam was complaining about when he had that kind of woman to come home to.
It was then Spencer figured that maybe, just maybe, he could put things in perspective for Sam. Just a little. “Well, it could be worse.” He took his whiskey when it came, smiling at the hot waitress and laughing to himself when she rolled her eyes at him and walked away.
“It could be?” Sam muttered around his drink, staring into the glass and sighing once again.
“Oh yeah.” Spencer sat back, looking across the table at the photographer with the calmness only years of traumatic experiences could bring. “Yeah, yeah, definitely. She could be in an alley somewhere. Head smashed open, brain spilling out onto the concrete…”
It took a moment for that to set in, and then Sam looked up at him. He set down his glass, and seemed to be readying himself to discount what was being said. But he was listening.
And so Spencer continued. “Limbs every which way, torn up from head to toe, maybe even an arm removed from the socket. Broken bones, life completely drained out of her…” He could see the self-assurance slipping off of Sam’s face very slowly. He was picturing it. “And she’d probably lay there for a while, either rotting, or until some other horrible thing comes along to snack on the body. And I’m sure with the type of things she fights, quick deaths really don’t exist. So before that scene, there was probably a hell of a lot of pain. Agony, really. Screaming… Y’know, that kind of thing.”
The staring went on for a few minutes, mutual, Sam completely silent and Spencer watching him nonchalantly, waiting for him to say something. When that didn’t happen, he just shrugged. Then he got his cell phone out of his pocket, and held it up. “I could call a cop buddy of mine, ask him to check around. Think I should?”
“… No.” Sam got up slowly, throwing down the money for both their drinks after he’d dug it out of his pocket. “No, I think I’m just going to go wait for her to get home.” He shook his head, either to clear the images playing in there out, or to reassure Spencer not to.
“Okay.” Spencer stood, finishing his whiskey, and checked his cell phone anyway. Message from Harry. He looked at Sam calmly, eyebrow raised ever so slightly at the look on his face. “Are you sure you don’t want me to ask? ‘Cause I mean, I’ve got time. Totally wouldn’t be a problem.”
“It’s fine.” Sam grabbed his jacket, and turned, on his way out the door. “I’ll see you later, okay?” And before Spencer could respond, he was gone.
He laughed to himself as he watched the other man go, and listened to the message from Harry. Nothing special, just wondering what Spencer was doing. Must be looking to get out of grading papers. He shook his head, walking out into the night, and called Carly first.
Voicemail. Spencer grinned as he walked to his car, waiting for the beep. When it came, he decided to keep it simple. “You owe me.” He hung up and got in his car.
Then, starting it, and driving out of the parking lot, he called Harry back. “It’s been a good day for me, I think I’ve just traumatized Sam. What’re you up to?”
What: Drinking and 'consolation'.
When: Late night
Where: Bar
Why: Hee.
“And then, she tells me to get out.”
Sam finished recounting a longer than usual summary of the latest and not really greatest fight that he and Carly had just been through with a deep sigh, one that indicated not only exasperation, but resignation. He could not win, and he was aware of this. That didn’t stop him from trying to an almost redundant point.
And, an hour later, it always put him out with a friend, retelling the whole thing in various places. This time, it was at a bar, and currently, he was looking across the table and expecting sympathy from Spencer.
Spencer, being aware of what was expected of him, still hesitated as he sipped his drink. He didn’t feel bad about having alcohol in front of Sam, if the guy was going to be tempted after this many years of sobriety, there was just no hope for him.
What he did feel a little bad about, however, was that he didn’t feel bad. It sounded trivial, which was right up their alley, and within a day tops they’d be all over each other and having make up sex. As per usual.
Still, he had a requirement to fill, and he might as well fill it somehow. And after another minutes’ pause, Spencer found himself getting as far as one word.
“Well.”
“Yeah.” Sam muttered, taking that as enough to start, and sipping his own non-alcoholic drink quietly. He had the look, now, of a dog that had been kicked more times than it could remember. And it was more tired of it than anything else, but it still had just enough fight left to be irritated.
If he didn’t know better, Spencer would almost think Carly was beating the ‘poor’ guy. Such, of course, was not the case. He was fairly sure they’d both be acting significantly different if it was.
“So what’s she doing now?” He asked curiously, drinking down the last of the whiskey and motioning to the waitress for the next glass.
“She’s probably out.” Sam sighed again deeply, and the resignation was brought back once again. He checked his watch, and muttered something under his breath that Spencer couldn’t quite make out. “Slaying, probably.”
Looking at the clock a short distance from them, Spencer nodded. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” He toyed with his glass, wondering a few things right now. What an angry slayer was like in a fight, what Toby and Harry were doing right now, and if they could all drag Sam somewhere to do something more interesting if he called them.
The first part, he honestly wished he knew nothing about. But when you’re the medical examiner of a major city, you run into your fair share of weird corpses. And if you’re the medical examiner of a major city who probably has had Death over his shoulder since he was a small child like a stalker, you’re going to run into the reasons for those corpses way too often.
By that point, it’s either believe it, or go to a psych ward. And Spencer always thought he’d be too much for a psychiatrist to handle. So he believed. It helped you bullshit your way around the reason for the stranger deaths a little more if you knew what you were working with.
As far as Carly, he’d just guessed. He knew about demon hunters before he’d had a clue about slayers, and he’d been filled in on the rest when he’d assumed about what she was. He sort of liked the concept. It was pretty hot, these badass fighter chicks running around, saving the world and stuff. He didn’t know what Sam was complaining about when he had that kind of woman to come home to.
It was then Spencer figured that maybe, just maybe, he could put things in perspective for Sam. Just a little. “Well, it could be worse.” He took his whiskey when it came, smiling at the hot waitress and laughing to himself when she rolled her eyes at him and walked away.
“It could be?” Sam muttered around his drink, staring into the glass and sighing once again.
“Oh yeah.” Spencer sat back, looking across the table at the photographer with the calmness only years of traumatic experiences could bring. “Yeah, yeah, definitely. She could be in an alley somewhere. Head smashed open, brain spilling out onto the concrete…”
It took a moment for that to set in, and then Sam looked up at him. He set down his glass, and seemed to be readying himself to discount what was being said. But he was listening.
And so Spencer continued. “Limbs every which way, torn up from head to toe, maybe even an arm removed from the socket. Broken bones, life completely drained out of her…” He could see the self-assurance slipping off of Sam’s face very slowly. He was picturing it. “And she’d probably lay there for a while, either rotting, or until some other horrible thing comes along to snack on the body. And I’m sure with the type of things she fights, quick deaths really don’t exist. So before that scene, there was probably a hell of a lot of pain. Agony, really. Screaming… Y’know, that kind of thing.”
The staring went on for a few minutes, mutual, Sam completely silent and Spencer watching him nonchalantly, waiting for him to say something. When that didn’t happen, he just shrugged. Then he got his cell phone out of his pocket, and held it up. “I could call a cop buddy of mine, ask him to check around. Think I should?”
“… No.” Sam got up slowly, throwing down the money for both their drinks after he’d dug it out of his pocket. “No, I think I’m just going to go wait for her to get home.” He shook his head, either to clear the images playing in there out, or to reassure Spencer not to.
“Okay.” Spencer stood, finishing his whiskey, and checked his cell phone anyway. Message from Harry. He looked at Sam calmly, eyebrow raised ever so slightly at the look on his face. “Are you sure you don’t want me to ask? ‘Cause I mean, I’ve got time. Totally wouldn’t be a problem.”
“It’s fine.” Sam grabbed his jacket, and turned, on his way out the door. “I’ll see you later, okay?” And before Spencer could respond, he was gone.
He laughed to himself as he watched the other man go, and listened to the message from Harry. Nothing special, just wondering what Spencer was doing. Must be looking to get out of grading papers. He shook his head, walking out into the night, and called Carly first.
Voicemail. Spencer grinned as he walked to his car, waiting for the beep. When it came, he decided to keep it simple. “You owe me.” He hung up and got in his car.
Then, starting it, and driving out of the parking lot, he called Harry back. “It’s been a good day for me, I think I’ve just traumatized Sam. What’re you up to?”