otherways
I. Am. So. Fucking. Screwed.
Michael's sitting on the floor, back against the wall directly opposite the door into the room. His arms are draped over his drawn-up knees and he's staring at the floor. He has a dagger in his hand and is tapping the blade against the fingernails of the opposite hand. Idle motion. There are tears on his face, but that can't be seen from the door; not until he looks up, which he won't do until he hears Stephen's voice.
He shakes his head, confused, distraught...
What the fuck did I just do?
How could I even think of doing that?
What the hell was I thinking?
Just fucking kill me now.
"Stephen, I need you..." whispered so small and so soft, through a tear-strained voice, that it's probably audible to almost no one.
Michael's sitting on the floor, back against the wall directly opposite the door into the room. His arms are draped over his drawn-up knees and he's staring at the floor. He has a dagger in his hand and is tapping the blade against the fingernails of the opposite hand. Idle motion. There are tears on his face, but that can't be seen from the door; not until he looks up, which he won't do until he hears Stephen's voice.
He shakes his head, confused, distraught...
What the fuck did I just do?
How could I even think of doing that?
What the hell was I thinking?
Just fucking kill me now.
"Stephen, I need you..." whispered so small and so soft, through a tear-strained voice, that it's probably audible to almost no one.

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And now he moves.
To change. To change into the clothing which he came in.
"I'm sorry. I feel absolutely dreadful to be repeating the actions which I took during which time I told you about Dresden, but it's not as if I'm going to be impractical about things and steal your belongings or forget my own. So, if you'll be so kind as to ignore me while I get un and redressed, I'd be much oblidged and then you'll be free to gain what you wish without the hindrance of guilt or the issue of someone like me. I had no right to intrude upon your life with nothing more than the memories and desires of a dead man to hold you to me. I won't be troublesome much longer, I assure you."
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"Wait." He can't get to his feet; he can hardly move. "Stephen, please... " he reaches a hand out, just a little.
"You're not troublesome." He shakes his head. "There's... there's something..." He takes a breath. "There's something... going on... I don't know what it is... please... " he blinks and looks, pleadingly at Stephen, "help me? Help me understand."
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"Of course."
Like comforting a child.
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Irrational? Maybe.
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"Handsome chap like you? Alone? Preposterous."
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"No. You don't understand. I... I couldn't..." He gets to his feet, clumsily, and stumbles toward the bed. He makes it, but falls heavily. "No. I can't do that again." His hands clench and release in irregular patterns in front of him, fingers twitching when his hands aren't fisted. "I. Just. Can't."
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"Then what do you want, Michael? Am I true love or security blanket?"
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Did we mention the very confused part?
Love him - want him - need him - highly confused by him just now.
Also - very afraid that he's going to leave me or back off - just offer friendship.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
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"So you love me...or is the idea of loneliness just too frightening to face even for as long as it would take to replace me? True love or security blanket? Which one am I?"
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"Love you." His lips tremble a little. "Just you." And he can't make his voice work in sentences longer than that.
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"Oh, GOD you had me scared, man. Get on the bed, get off the floor, and hold me for that ridiculous display before I pout at you so shamelessly that your ancestors buy their wives flowers."
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"Of what?"
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"Well, we can't deal with it if you're suffering from lower back problems due to sitting on the hard floor too long, so get up and into the bed before I either lift you or start yelling."
The look he gives Michael is scary.
"You really don't want to see me yelling again."
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"I'm really sorry." And he doesn't know why he keeps saying that.
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"If it's your body betraying you, or your body's desires, you'll find no anger with me against you. I know what temptation is and I know what the heat of the moment is and I'm no one to throw stones. But when you looked at me like that, I thought...my first thought was that you'd betrayed me in mind, in heart...because that's just about the only place you can betray me. That's the only thing that will get me upset: if you kissed someone or fucked someone because you just loved them so much you couldn't even tell me beforehand. You were so upset, I assumed that is what happened...and thus my reaction."
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And he stops shaking his head. "And I don't just mean Carl..." He's looking right at Stephen.
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And seems happy enough to bounce for a moment before he puts the information into his mental catalogue and files it for the moment. Other concerns.
"Good to hear."
And he's hoping the love and affection he feels for Michael, for Gabriel, is in there too.
"Now, about that force."
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"And, what did you ask me about?"
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There's a pause.
"But, it might be happening to David too."
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"Nick."
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"...who has known emotion-effecting abilities, no? Now, he seems your friend and I don't think that he'd do such things on purpose against you, but...is there any chance that what he's doing might be subconcious?"
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"How do you mean?"
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"I don't think so... wait..." and he stops, something occurring to him.
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"Vampire bites."
Pause.
"Fuck."
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"Helpful. Thanks."
He pinches the bridge of his nose.
"What do you think it is?"
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He smirks.
"Talk to the vampire, Michael. Best, really."
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Eyes closed again, he presses his shoulders down, trying to stretch them.
"What can I do for you now?" he asks softly.
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And he YANKS him into the bed and nibbles on his side.
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He keeps his arm out of the way of Stephen's nibbling; his free hand carding through his hair a moment before sliding down to figure a way to remove Stephen's shirt.