IC Contact

[murderpotato]

Hello, you have reached the voicemail box of:

What the fuck do you want?

At the tone, please leave a brief message.

Comments

[ishotyouuu]

[Wade risks a bite of a cracker, chewing slowly.]

Wasn't technically an accident. I wanted a place to be alone and blow off some steam and the caves seemed like the perfect place to do it. S'not like I can just head to a local Planet Fitness or anything, y'know? I thought it'd be smooth sailing-- I mean, I'm not some kinda milquetoast.

[He takes another sip of broth, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows.]

...Alcohol might've had somethin' to do with it.

[murderpotato]

[Gren is, at least, well aware that the combination of alcohol and poor judgement creates Bad Times. It'd probably be hypocritical of him to get on Wade's case about it, since he's made his fair share of poor life choices while under the influence of something or other, but that would also require him to be self-aware of his hypocrisy.]

Well, maybe give somebody a fuckin' heads up next time in case you need a goddamn assist. Then maybe you won't spend a fuckin' month being digested by a compost heap.

[Because, y'know, he'd be out looking for him before three weeks go by.]

And plug in your fuckin' phone.

[ishotyouuu]

[There's only so much of this tongue-lashing Wade can take. He's already exposed and vulnerable, prone in Gren's bed the way he is, and it seems to him that Gren's taking the opportunity to kick him while he's down. Either way, he hates the sense of superiority he feels coming from the man, whether it's imagined or not, which is what prompts him now to run his goddamn mouth.]

Maybe if someone didn't get so fuckin' butthurt about who I spend my time with, I wouldn't pull a goddamn disappearing act.

[murderpotato]

Is that what this shit is about?

[He stands, Wade's pissy tone chafing him. That whole... date thing with Rosen bothers him like a rotting tooth; irritating and impossible to leave alone. It bothers him that Wade went on that date with another man, and it bothers him that it bothers him. The stupidest cycle of annoyance.]

Fine, whatever, you're right. You can do whatever the fuck you want. [It's a true statement-- Wade can do whatever he wants with whomever he wants. They're not exclusive.] Happy now?

[ishotyouuu]

[The statement might be true, but that doesn't mean that the tone of Gren's voice doesn't get Wade's dander up in the worst way possible.]

Seriously, what the fuck is even your problem? Did I impose on some weird-ass fuckbuddy code or something?

[murderpotato]

I ain't got a problem.

[That's a lie, Gren has many problems, and his issues with Wade are only some of them. He stands up and moves away. He feels like he really needs a drink.]

I don't tell you what to do. You can do whatever the fuck you want with whoever you want.

[ishotyouuu]

You fucking--

[Whatever the end of that sentence was is suddenly lost in a soft groan as, momentarily forgetting himself, Wade attempts a sudden, angry lunge forward. An immediate wave of vertigo washes over him, reminding him why he shouldn't make such sudden moves just yet, and he falls impotently back onto the bed, the bowl of broth sloshing with the movement.]

Ffffuck... [His voice is hazy with exhaustion.]

[murderpotato]

[Wade's angry, and that's fine. He's allowed to be pissed or whatever, Gren can't tell him what to do or how to feel about it and all that shit. He can be as angry as he wants to be.]

[So he's not surprised by the cursing, but when Wade starts listing back, his voice trailing off, Gren turns and takes an aborted step towards him. He should be angrier, at his own stupid reactions if not Wade's. The stupid way that he wants to help.]

Be pissed at me later. [He rescues the broth from its precarious position; he doesn't want to have to change the sheets. Or he could let Wade sit in a wet spot, out of spite.] At least eat whatever you're gonna and get some sleep so you ain't fallin' over.

[ishotyouuu]

Y-yeah... yeah.

[Anger is forgotten in the midst of his whirling vertigo. He's only faintly aware of Gren taking the bowl of broth from his nerveless fingers, but only in the sense that he's suddenly free to sink back fully against the pillows with a groan. He's still hungry-- he feels that old familiar ache in the center of him, but even moving his head feels like a chore.

Help a guy out, would you?]