tushanshu_logs | [closed] Lover you're a solider

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[closed] Lover you're a solider

Characters: Stephanie Brown & Brandon Sharpe
Date: February 16th
Location: Super secret superhero HQ AKA some building in Earth Sector
Situation: ~~Brandon and Steph chilling out~~ OR BRANDON COMING OUT AND EVERYTHING BEING TERRIBLE FOREVER
Warnings/Rating: Mentions of sexual abuse of a child, internalized homophobia.

With the zombies gone from the city and the clean up underway, Steph turns her attention back to the building she's renting from a kedan who was more interested in her money than asking questions (she knows for a fact he also owns a few buildings used by gangs, which might seem a bit dangerous, but he isn't aware of it, meaning that he won't be inclined to ask questions and that's something she's willing to take a bit of a risk for). The building is in Earth, but near the center of the city, so the distance between it and the Foreigner compounds in each Sector is fairly even. Fortunately, it sustained minimal damage to over the last week, so the work that had been done hadn't gone to waste.

The unexpected dive and even more unexpected visitors have reinforced the need for this, and she's working on a way to start bringing everyone together, even if it's a little sooner than she wanted. She's not sure when she started being so cautious and organized, but she figures she can blame Babs for it.

The fact the schedule had been pushed forward means that she needs to work a little harder to get everything ready - the building hadn't been in the best condition when she bought it because anything better had been too expensive - and means that she's dragging others in to help.

Mainly Brandon, since he's been involved in this since early on, though right now her motivation has more to do with simply wanting to spend time with him. She hasn't missed how shaken he'd been by the zombies, she remembers what happened last time he was confronted with a corpse, and this time she isn't letting him lock himself in his suite for a week. Which is why she's asked him to come with her to help with the finishing touches (mostly just furnishing and the security system, though the gym still needs a little work). She's going to make sure he's okay, and if she also happens to need some comfort in his company, well, might as well kill two birds with one stone.

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One thing he never really learned how to do was work with his hands. He never had to. When he was a kid, his mom insisted on having hired help-- there was a nanny for Alexis and a couple cheaply paid serving staff. Even when they weren't doing so hot financially, she was perfectly willing to drag them into debt just to keep up appearances.

Appearances.

Brandon reaches up and touches the side of his face, still healing from a light first degree burn. And then he wipes his arm across his brow and looks across the room to Stephanie.

He needs to tell her.

Even before he told Nita, he knew. It's-- it's not that he can't keep pretending. They haven't done much more than fool around but he's slept with women before, that part he can fake. It's that he doesn't want to. He loves her, and some days he's not even sure how it happened. The last few months seem a whirlwind that's left him raw and wounded. Steph knows more about him than anyone he's ever met.

But she doesn't know that.

He pushes the thought from his mind, heads over to where she's working (abandoning his own work in the process) and wraps his arms around her from behind, chin on her shoulder. "Hey, gorgeous."

"Hey, yourself," She doesn't hesitate before leaning into the embrace, resting her hands on top of his, "If you're gonna try to charm me into getting out of work, it's not happening."

Which is a total lie, he could easily talk her into letting him skip out on working, since she's willing to cut him some slack. Honestly, he could probably talk her into abandoning work for the day, even if she wouldn't admit that. It might be nice to have something to keep her hands busy - and for one of the few times she's glad it isn't fighting - but spending time with her boyfriend is just as good.

"No?" He brushes his lips against her neck. "What say we blow this joint, doll? Just you and me?"

It's his best Brando voice, okay.

That gets a little laugh, as she tilts her head slightly in response to his touch, "Mm? And where exactly are we gonna go?"

She doesn't miss the reference; her mom has a fondness for old movies that Steph's picked up by osmosis, and by watching a lot of movies together whenever she gets assigned bed rest for assorted reasons.

"Anywhere you want."

And he means that. He really does. Just not as much as he wishes he did. Because half of him still wants to go home before he has to tell Steph the truth, and the other half-- the other half isn't sure what it wants at all.

He's grown long used to being pulled in half a dozen different directions at once that this is nothing new. But it used to be 'come over here and sign this' or 'go over here and work on this project' or 'smile for the paparazzi'. And all of that seems so trivial here. Like he can't believe he ever worried about how he looked on camera from every angle.

(Okay, so he still worries about at least half the angles)

"Our options are a little limited," She keeps her tone light, but the recent dive underwater has just reminded her of how trapped they are here.

She wants to take Brandon home to her mom, she wants to see if she could talk him into trying train surfing, she wants to drag him to those stupid parties that Jordanna throws, just so she has some company that isn't college friends she doesn't know how to talk to.

She's not so sure she'd like to go to his world. Hell, sometimes she's not sure she wants him to go back to it, considering everything he's told her, but it's not like she could take him home with her.

"Are they?" He's a little startled by how serious he sounds. "Steph-- what if they weren't. What if I could just... go back with you? To your world."

Something else he's been thinking about for a while lately.

The response surprises her a little, enough that she has to remind herself that Brandon can't read minds, he's probably just been thinking about the same things she has.

Steph turns around carefully, not trying to move away from him holding her, she just - wants to be able to see his expression. She rests one hand on his shoulder, the other against his cheek as she looks at him, her expression hopeful, "Would you? If you could."

She wants him to.

He ducks his head in a nod. "Steph-- you're a better person than anyone I've ever met. And I--"

He drags a hand through his hair, not quite breaking away from her but giving the sort of resistance that suggests he's at least a little uncomfortable.

"I love you. And I want you to be happy, and I just-- I'd give anything for that, Steph, okay?" No he is not on the verge of tears, he fucking isn't, all right?

That should all be a good thing, and she smiles at first, a soft, pleased sort of smile, but then she really listens to everything else he says, and her smile is replaced by a concerned frown. It's not something she's really... heard before, and it's lovely, but she's worried about why he's saying it, and what it means that he looks a little like he wants to pull away.

"Hey," It's quiet, gentle, and her hand is still resting lightly against his cheek, "You have to be happy, too. You know that, right?"

That wrings a smile out of him, albeit one that's just... not genuine. It's bitter and sad.

He doesn't want to do this. He never should have done this, damnit he knew-- before he even got into this he knew. It started out that Steph was just... convenient. Someone he liked that he thought he could like enough and then she ended up being perfect in so many ways he didn't even know people could be perfect and it hurts so much being with her like this, pretending nothing's wrong when it is and all he can think about is that moment underwater with Nita.

He reaches up, takes her wrists in his hands and steps away from her, breaking contact.

"I'm gay."

Steph goes still. Not with the sort of tension that comes when she's startled or ready to attack, she's just - frozen, her expression flat, because she feels like someone's just ripped all the air out of her lungs and tipped the world upside down. She doesn't even think to move away, can barely feel his hands on her wrists.

He's gay?

It lasts for a few seconds, before her expression crumples a little, as she searches his face, looking for a sign that he's just joking, messing with her for some reason she can't figure out but he's--

He's not. She can read his expressions well enough, she knows him well enough or she... she thought she did. She thought she knew him, she thought she knew that he loved her. She'd said it first, but he'd given her a heart made of lightning and told her in the morning that he loved her, too.

He just said it.

It's not the first time someone's lied to her, and it's that thought that spurs her into movement, into jerking her hands from his grasp, taking a half step back and only not taking more because she's not sure if she could actually manage it without falling over.

"What?"

She doesn't need him to repeat himself, she heard that perfectly clearly, she wants to know what the fuck he's playing at.

He wants to know why he isn't freaking out more about this. Instead, everything's just cold and numb and he thinks about that time he shot a commercial for, like, the Twinrix vaccine and he was in a water tank that was supposed to be like, a beach in Brazil or something and the heating coils on the tank weren't working and he'd been frozen and they'd done like forty takes of the damned thing until his mom was satisfied--

It's like that.

He's cold and numb and he doesn't even want to argue, he just wants to get this conversation over with so he can-- so he can go back to whatever the hell his life is supposed to be and stop lying to the only person who's ever made him want to tell the truth.

"I thought maybe it was Rick. Like-- he did this to me, or-- screwed me up somehow. I know they say it's not a choice but I'm an actor, I can-- I'm supposed to be able to choose to be anything I want. Anything I have to be." His voice catches and twists like a hangman's noose, he barely even recognizes the way he sounds.

He wraps his arms around himself, fingers catching in the fabric at his sides. "I guess sometimes we are what the monsters make us. I'm sorry."

It's not fair.

Everything he says just twists in her heart; she can't just turn off everything she feels about him because she's angry and hurt, and there's still so much of her that wants to just reach out to him, to stop him from sounding like that.

She loves him so she hates seeing him so upset, but it just fuels her own anger, that he's making her feel like this even after he's just told her that their entire relationship has been a lie.

"Fuck you," There's more pain in it than anger, and she's already close to tears, "You can choose to be whatever you want so you - you what? Decided to jerk me around just so you could play house?"

Now she's not being fair, and she knows it, but she's started now and she's not sure she can stop, "Because hey, congratulations, you sure had me fooled. They should give you a fucking Emmy for that performance."

He flinches, and there's a little defensive crackle of electricity across his skin, barely noticeable. He knows he deserve it, but-- it wasn't supposed to be like this. There never should have been a 'this' in the first place. He takes a breath. God, he would rather be anywhere else, anywhere else right now.

"Steph, I wasn't trying to fool you. I was-- trying to fool myself and I know that doesn't make it better." He tries to keep his voice low and even. He isn't going to yell. Or break down or get upset. He doesn't have the right. It's taking every ounce of willpower he even has not to bring it back around and make it about him. How fucked up he knows he is. He just wants to make excuses until she forgives him but he's-- trying. To be better than that. Because of her. For her.

She hates herself a little, in the moment where he flinches and she's glad that she managed to say something to hurt him, even if it doesn't make her own pain any less.

"How am I supposed to believe you?" There's still anger there, but her expression is almost pleading. She wants him to be able to answer that, to find a way that she can trust him again, because she desperately wants to, but she can't, not after this, not after he's lied to her for months.

"I never lied about caring about you, Steph. Do you think I want to be gay? Do you think I fucking wanted to do this?!" His tone hits a crescendo of desperation, sharp and shrill. "I've never given a damn about anyone but myself until you and I fucked it up because I'm-- because I'm like this!"

She should stop, she should stop and tell him that it's okay, that there's nothing wrong with him, that she'd break everyone bone in someone's body if they ever tried to hurt him because he's gay.

But she can't believe him when he says he cared about her, and it hurts.

"I don't know, Brandon," She's seen people do all sorts of things for all sorts of reasons, but she can't understand why he'd pretend to care about someone for so long, "You kissed me! You started it. If- if you were scared of people finding out you could have just told me, I wouldn've lied for you."

Maybe it'd be different, if she was the one who made the first move and he'd just gone along for fear of being outed otherwise but she can't think of a reason why he'd start something he knew he couldn't finish.

"I didn't want it to be a lie, Steph!" It's hard to breathe. It's hard to breathe and the air is thick and hot and cloying and his vision is blurry with unshed tears and he's hugging himself hard enough to hurt, hard enough that his fingers are a hot pressure against his ribs.

He doesn't want to be standing. His knees are shaking. He moves a hand so he can angrily rub the back of it across his eyes.

Oh.

It startles her, it's not what she was expecting - she didn't know what she expected - but it startles her out of her anger, at least for long enough to let some of what he's been saying actually sink in. It's not enough to make her believe him, she's not sure if that's something she'll ever be able to do again, not when he's been telling a lie at her expense for months.

For a second, with the anger gone, she's just - numb, and in that moment something occurs to her.

"Tommy," The ridiculousness of it startles a laugh out of her, but it's one entirely lacking in humour, replaced by bitterness and a slight hysterical edge, "God, you are a good actor."

How could she not have seen it?

Edited 2013-02-11 20:52 (UTC)

His jaw clenches, but he has nothing to say to that.

She stares at him in silence for a moment, realizing that he's not going to even try to say anything to that.

"Wow," It'd be funny if she didn't feel like she was going to throw up, "Does he know? Did you guys have a good laugh at my expense?"

She knows that's probably wrong, that Tommy had as little idea as she did, but she can't shake the undercurrent of embarrassment at all this, that she managed to fall in love with a gay guy.

"No. He doesn't know, okay?" He grits that out between his teeth, actually angry that she'd even suggest that. "You don't get to blame him for this."

"Oh, don't worry, I'm definitely blaming you," She's not sure how she manages to sound so flippant when she's so upset. She doesn't know how to deal with this, and she realizes that right now she's just lashing out trying to hurt him but she - can't find it in herself to stop.

It should have been reassuring, that it wasn't a case of them both - knowing and lying to her, but she's too angry, too hurt by everything else about the situation that it doesn't help at all.

"Fine! Then just fucking blame me already and get it over with! God, Steph, what do you want me to say?"

That's an honest question, his tone is broken and pleading when he says it. Because he doesn't know. What to say or how to fix this or keep it from being anything but another broken-down part of his life.

It's her turn to flinch, as she takes a step back, wrapping her arms around herself and looking away. There have been tears in her eyes since this started, but she's determined not to actually cry.

"I don't think there's anything you can say, not that I could believe," She just sounds - sad. She thought.... she never really trusts people, not the way she should, because she can't ever stop expecting them to hurt her in some way or another. But she'd wanted-- she'd thought she could learn to trust him, that he wouldn't hurt like this and she's not sure if she's more upset at him for doing it, or herself for letting her guard down.

But her anger's gone again, and all she can think right now is how desperately she wants to go home.

"Fine." And for his part, there's nothing in his tone but a sort of weary tiredness, ages old. And without waiting for her to say anything else, he just turns to go.

A hundred different things to yell at him run through her mind, all underscored by how angry she is at him, at the situation, at the fact he's walking away from her. But the anger isn't worth it, it's just something to cover up how much she hurts, and there's no words to fix that.

She doesn't say anything, just watches him walk away, arms wrapped around herself. It occurs to her, almost idly, that this is probably the point where she should break down crying, but she just rubs at her eyes against the threatening tears, then mentally picks herself up and heads to the roof exit.

She's not sure where she's going, just yet, but she doesn't want to be on the street.

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[closed] Lover you're a solider

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cw child abuse;

cw child abuse;

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