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drsquidloveSomeone Like You
by Dr Squidlove
drsquidlove @@@ livejournal.com
Oz/Law & Order: SVU crossover
Tobias Beecher's trying to rebuild his family in the shadow of the man he was in prison. Elliot Stabler's struggling to continue in the wake of divorce while his job eats away at his soul. It makes for an odd friendship, but it works.
Rated R for violence and explicit references to sexual violence.
Wordcount this post: 4591
Full headers are on chapter 1.
Oz is the property of Tom Fontana and HBO. Law & Order: SVU is the property of Dick Wolf and NBC. The characters are used without permission, but with much appreciation.
Someone Like You
chapter 23: Lions
by Dr Squidlove
Previously, in chapter 22, Licence:
Toby showed Elliot his clean blood test; Elliot made it clear he wasn't here for casual sex. 'Cos he doesn't do that. Toby finally manned up and accepted that he wanted Elliot for Elliot. So I guess we can call this a relationship, now.
Elliot celebrated their new beginning and Toby's clean bill of health by rolling up his sleeves for his first blow job, which was tastefully illustrated by barbana.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
They'd left the window open for air, and the sounds of traffic filtered up from the streets, city lights keeping the room from real dark.
Sharing a bed felt strange. They'd tried Toby on his back with Elliot curled against him and vice versa. They'd tried spooning this way and that, but they were both big men and it was July. Elliot had forgotten it could take a while to learn how to share a bed. They'd finally settled shoulder to shoulder, Toby's sweaty calf dangling over Elliot's shin, all but the sheet pushed to the floor. Elliot could have fallen asleep in two minutes flat, but it had been so long since he'd had this: a warm body to be with. He was fighting to stay awake because he didn't want to let go of tonight: the delicate mood of freshly-patched wounds, all the things they held private still close to the surface.
Elliot wondered if Toby knew he'd forgotten to hide his brand tonight, as he dragged Elliot back to the bedroom.
He looked over; Toby's eyes were open, staring up at the ceiling.
Toby felt his gaze and returned it. "Doing anything special this weekend?"
Elliot dragged a toe over Toby's hairy ankle. "Other than this?"
"With your kids. Fourth of July? Big holiday?"
"They always go to Kathy's sister's in New Jersey for a barbecue on the Fourth, but I managed to get nosebleed tickets for the Mets game tomorrow night."
"Nice."
Better than nice. A game and his kids. Throw in sex like this with Toby, and it would be pretty much a perfect night. "How about you?"
"Mother said we can get a good view of the fireworks from Manhattan Beach by her house, without the crowds of Coney Island. Though we might head down there during the day - apparently Holly loves Nathan's hot-dog-eating competition. I can't see Harry having any objection to that."
Elliot chuckled. "It sounds like your talk with her went well."
"We ended up crammed on her bed, talking until almost ten. Everything's good with her." His smile was bright, but it faded fast. "I've got some hard conversations with Harry while he's here." He sighed. "I looked around, but none of the parenting books tell you how to explain your heroin addiction to your kids."
In this quiet, close mood, it felt safe enough to ask. "When you were doing drugs - that was through Vern?"
"Yeah."
Elliot was slowly putting Toby's experience together, one detail at a time. Toby being an addict still made him nervous, but he couldn't judge him for using drugs to get through months of rape. There was no drug in the world that could have gotten Elliot through that. "I'm guessing that's not how you explained it to Holly."
Toby huffed. "No, I just stuck with 'really, really terrible'. She said she was glad I had a boyfriend in prison, as if that's what every little girl wishes for her father."
The private, still close to the surface. "What did you tell her about him?"
"I told her he took care of me, that he helped when I missed her and her brothers. That's true enough."
But not entirely true? "What was he like?"
"Elliot..."
"Tell me something about him. You know a lot about Kathy." Elliot didn't know if that was true, but Toby knew some things. Elliot didn't know anything about Chris. He pictured a skinny, geeky guy, maybe a little effeminate. Another sharp mind for Toby to latch onto in the sea of brutish cons.
Toby's body softened against him as he let the protests go. "He was different to you. He was stubborn, protective. Didn't like to let anyone know what he was thinking." He couldn't hide the affection in his voice. Toby still loved him.
"He sounds like me."
"Nothing like you," Toby retorted, voice suddenly sharp.
"All right." Elliot guessed he hadn't earned the comparison. "Holly said he was in for robbery."
"Holly said?" Toby moved to lean up on his elbow, but Elliot nudged him back down. They could talk about Holly and what she knew any time.
"I assume it was armed robbery, if he was in a maximum." Elliot held his breath, waiting for Toby to answer.
"He went off the rails after his last divorce-"
"He'd been married?"
"Four times."
More than Munch. Six months ago Elliot had thought mid-life conversion was a myth. Now it seemed like what all the cool divorced men were doing. "Did he have kids?"
"No. He was high, things got out of hand. He killed the store owner."
Elliot caught his breath. He hadn't expected murder. Not so much like Elliot after all.
"Enough, Elliot?"
Toby had loved a murderer. Another junkie. Elliot wanted to know more, but that was enough to swallow for now. He backed up through the conversation for something safer. "Holly really didn't care that you like men?" Elliot couldn't see his kids glancing over that detail.
"She didn't seem to think it mattered at all."
Elliot tried to imagine how he would have reacted if he'd found out his repressed Irish Catholic cop dad was gay. Not with a shrug: he was sure of that.
Toby tipped his head towards Elliot, voice teasing. "She said she likes you. She's glad I have a friend." He shook his head. He was getting his first taste of his own children treating him like a helpless kid.
They fell quiet. Toby was probably relieved that Elliot had stopped pushing him about Chris. Drugs and murder. A man who really belonged in that place.
"My mother's thinking of selling our winter house."
"You have a winter house?" Elliot forgot, sometimes, about Toby's fancy upbringing. Rich white collar parents, probably a staff to clean their home, and cook, and raise the kids. The whole family through Harvard. And now Toby was disbarred, an ex-con with a cop boyfriend. Elliot wondered how that would sit with Mrs Beecher. Probably better than a murderer. No wonder the family hadn't liked Chris.
"Yes, we have a winter house, near Lake Champlain. It was nice in the summer, too, but it was really for the skiing."
They talked about easy things until Toby's answers slurred and slowed. Elliot was halfway gone as well, but he held on. He'd slept alone for so long.
He liked being here, allowed into Toby's space, allowed to watch him sleep. Toby's mouth was hanging open, hair messed. The rhythm of Toby's breathing was different to Kathy's. The way he sprawled.
So now Elliot had blown a guy.
It was funny how that summoned up the memory of being at school the day after he and Kathy had sex for the first time. High on love and losing his virginity, bursting with the secret milestone. Obsessing with all the new things he'd learned: that it wasn't as easy as it looked in the magazines, that Kathy had a whole different kind of soft, sexy moan when he was inside her, that pulling out when you were ready to come was the hardest thing in the world.
This had definitely been easier. At least this time they both knew what they were doing, and they were both too old to be shy about talking. Toby had told Elliot exactly what he wanted and where: kiss me there, now suck me, please.
Elliot had always thought balls were ugly, nothing like the beautiful folds women had between their legs. But he'd taken some time to nuzzle Toby's balls the way Toby had done for him, and he'd definitely changed his mind. Or maybe it was just Toby's balls, soft and cool and a shortcut to making Toby writhe.
Elliot liked how Toby's cock had swelled on his tongue and filled his mouth, the way Toby's whole body had shuddered around him, powerful thighs and rippling abs craving for more. Elliot's own cock stirred at the memory. There was going to be plenty more of that in his future.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Toby woke with a gasp, and a sigh. Twisted his head to see the clock: just past three. Another formless half-dream. He'd woken at twelve-thirty, and two. Between Toby's shallow sleep and Elliot's tossing and turning, this was going to be hard to get used to. It had been nine years since Toby last shared a bed, and he'd been a lot better at sleeping then.
Nine years almost exactly: happy anniversary on your conviction, Prisoner #97B412. It was about the last thing he wanted to dwell on tonight.
The room was stuffy with an extra body to keep it warm. Toby poked a foot out from under the sheet, turned his head to watch Elliot's frowning profile, the rise and fall of his chest, his hand twitching on the sheets bunched at his waist.
This whole thing wasn't fair to Elliot, but right now, Toby didn't give a fuck. This beat waking up to an empty room.
Toby slipped out and went to piss, dazed and wired, considered flopping on the couch to watch TV until his mind settled, but that never worked. Besides, it seemed like a waste, when there was something much nicer to watch in his bed.
He crept back in, hit hard with the scent of spunk and sweat filling the room. It smelled like lockdown.
That had been two weeks of... if not happiness, then contentment, at least. Safety. Love with a heaped helping of passion. In between the sex - and there'd been plenty of that - Toby had set himself on the task of separating out pieces of the real Chris Keller. He really did have three ex-wives, with Bonny signing up twice. He'd still loved them all. He'd known how to play chess long before Toby tried to teach him - and that had been a revelation into Chris's mind: how sharp did you have to be, to feign the curve of learning chess?
In the gloom, Elliot might have been him.
He wasn't. No plots, no subtext, no hidden agenda. Plenty of confusion, but no manipulation. Elliot liked Toby, so he kissed him on his front steps. Elliot liked Toby, so he sucked Toby's cock.
Toby eased under the covers, and Elliot rolled to face him, slurred, "Am I keeping you awake?"
"I never sleep through." He ran his fingers through the hair on Elliot's chest, wondering how awake he was, got a rumble. Light fingernails down Elliot's belly.
Elliot didn't open his eyes, but in the shadows Toby saw the corner of his mouth lift. "You tryin' keep me awake?"
That sounded like a great idea. Toby wriggled forward and licked Elliot's nipple. Licked, sucked, and then caught it in the point of his teeth, felt Elliot's whole body come awake. Just a tiny bite of pain, but Elliot didn't protest, too surprised or maybe he just liked it. Back to soothing lips and tongue, a hand on Elliot's hip to keep him steady, then to press him backwards so Toby could kiss his way across to Elliot's other nipple, kiss and lick and suckle, could feel the tension in Elliot's body, awaiting the sting. Toby opened wide, let his teeth gently graze over skin towards the tip, Elliot's hips lifting in anticipation until Toby gave him the sharp little bite he'd been waiting for.
A heavy hand curled behind Toby's neck, not knowing whether to stop him or encourage him, and Toby let go, flicked his tongue over the sensitised nipple, and Elliot's hand tightened.
"Are you awake?"
"I'm awake, Toby."
Toby slid on top and pushed his knees between Elliot's. Their skin was sticky and warm. He slid up Elliot's body, and then slid down again, catching Elliot's thick cock between his thighs. "You like it like this, Elliot? Like Ancient Greece?"
"I'm not so fond of boys." But Elliot's big hands cupped his ass, rocking Toby around his cock. Sleepy-eyed but smiling. "Got something to ease the way?"
Toby kept their hips locked together as he reached for the lube.
"Turn the light on while you're there, Toby. Want to see you."
Toby bumped the switch and they both screwed up their eyes, blinking. He slicked his hand and reached back between his legs to fist Elliot's cock, was glad he could see Elliot's face go slack as he worked him. He leaned up on his elbow and spilled more lube across Elliot's stomach where he was going to rub his own cock. "I'm going to have to buy more sheets."
Elliot grinned and pulled him close again, letting out a "Yeah," as his cock pumped easily between Toby's thighs.
His hands shifted between Toby's hips and ass to control the pace, slow and steady, fingers digging deeper as he urged him on until he was growling in Toby's ear, wet cock skimming by Toby's balls.
Toby could get used to this unselfconscious, middle-of-the-night Elliot.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Elliot had said kids had to build their own relationships, and you couldn't control it. Mother said Holly and Harry would start feeling like a family when they spent more time like a family. Angus said Toby had to sit them down together, talk it through. Toby just wanted to keep them too busy to fight.
It was a lot easier having everyone around. With eight people at meals, no one had to talk to anyone they didn't want to. At Coney Island after they all watched people cram absurd numbers of hot dogs in their mouths, Toby and Angus took Harry and Angus' boys on the rides while Mother and Angus's wife Ellen walked Holly along the beach. Timothy and Jack got along fine with Harry.
In the evening, Toby got to spend his first free Fourth of July in ten years watching fireworks over the bay with an arm around each of his kids, and for most of it he was blinking back the blur of tears.
Toby put the conversation with Harry off to the third day, but he'd promised himself no later. He wanted it over with, maybe even forgotten, well before Harry went home to San Diego. Toby wondered if Elliot would have had any good advice on this one. Probably not; Elliot had never spent six months funnelling drugs up his nose.
Harry had forsaken the air conditioning to play by himself down in a back corner of the garden, and there wouldn't be a better opportunity. Toby scooped out a couple of bowls of ice cream as a shameless bribe, and headed out into the sticky heat. "Hey, Harry. Whatcha doing?"
Harry considered the broom handle he'd just propped against a branch, and then shifted it a foot to the right. "Designing a fort. Tim and Jack are going to join in when they get back." He looked up and saw the two big bowls of ice cream Toby was holding, and a little interest sparked.
"All right. Can we talk?"
Harry shrugged, and started pulling his grandmother's potted conifer into his design.
Holly was always eager for any chance at a meaningful conversation, unless she thought she was in trouble. Harry avoided them for all he was worth. Another factor that made it a struggle to get as close with his son. Toby found a shady spot on the ground inside the marked-out fort and waited, until Harry seemed to realise it wasn't going to happen without him. He stopped fiddling with the plant and sat on the chair he'd stolen from the porch, reaching for the offered bowl and digging straight in.
Toby folded his legs, already sweating, trying to look as unthreatening as possible. "Harry, did someone tell you I used to use drugs?"
Harry went red and shrugged, and Toby's breath lodged sideways in his throat. So much like Gary, who'd bloomed red at even a suggestion of guilt. They got the blushing gene from Genevieve.
"You're not in trouble. And it's true."
Harry's head came up. He hadn't expected the admission.
"I've made some terrible mistakes. You know that. I drank too much, and I killed someone, and that's why I went to prison. Prison was very, very hard, so for a few months in that first year, I took drugs so I didn't have to think about it."
Harry looked like he'd rather be anywhere else. Toby empathised. This conversation had been hard enough with Holly, who always gave him the benefit of the doubt.
"At first it seemed to help, but then it made everything worse, so I stopped." Not by choice so much as a long stint in the Hole after trying to kill Schillinger and himself, followed by an adjustment period spent experimenting with being crazy. Also, son, I bit the end off the cock of the next man who tried to rape me. Confession was good for the soul, but you had to measure out the details. "I don't do it anymore. I haven't in a long time. I'm sorry you found out, but since you did, I thought you deserved to know the truth from me."
Harry shoved an enormous spoonful of ice cream in his mouth, and stared off into the garden.
"Is there anything you want to ask?"
Harry shook his head, hard.
A nine year-old wasn't supposed to know about his father's drug habit. "You can ask me anything, Harry. Any time. Anything you want to know, and I'll try to tell the truth, all right? I'd rather you ask me than be left wondering by gossip or things you've overheard."
"Okay."
This would have been the perfect time for Harry to ask if Toby would ever go back to prison, or to tell Toby how grateful he was to have Jonah for a father instead of Toby, or share whatever else he'd been whispering in Holly's ear out of Toby's hearing, but he only waved away a bee, and then stared hard as it buzzed off to hover in the poppies.
Toby wanted to hug him, but Harry always took physical affection stiffly, like something to bear. "Do you want some help building your fort?"
"No, I'm fine."
All right then. Toby lingered, picking unenthusiastically at his ice cream, until it just felt awkward. He stood and brushed himself off, and headed back into the air conditioning.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Harry seemed content to pretend their conversation in his fort never happened. It worked for Toby, too. Harry was happy if they went to the beach most mornings, had stopped comparing the waves to his favourite San Diego beaches. Holly was content to wade along the shore, as long as they didn't stay too long and she got an ice cream on the way home.
Things were going well. Calm enough that on Friday Toby decided to brave hundred-degree weather at the Bronx Zoo, just the three of them. He'd got the hang of rationing out conversation like cake, perfectly equal slices for everyone. He wondered if this was how the UN worked.
He let them both pull out their electronics on the subway to keep the peace. It gave him an hour to enjoy watching them. Holly was flicking through songs on her ipod, sometimes kicking her feet in time, always playing with the hem of her skirt or the end of her blonde braid. Harry had his dark head down, totally absorbed in Mario Brothers, his whole body leaning and jerking as he thumbed the buttons, letting out the occasional quiet, "No!" or "Yeah!"
Once they arrived, rhinos and snakes and bears turned out to be the perfect distraction. Harry loved animals as much as Holly did. They both whined a little at the heat, but there wasn't a sharp word between them all day, even when they shared a table at lunch for hot dogs and nachos.
They saved the lions for the afternoon, but as soon as they were within sight, Harry raced for the fence. Toby and Holly followed at a more dignified pace. Three lions lay stretched out in the sun, too hot to do more than flick their tails.
"Your mother loved the lions."
Harry looked back over his shoulder. "Really?"
"They were her favourite." Gen had talked about going to Africa one day, to see them in the wild.
"Did Mom come to the zoo?"
"We all did. The whole family. It was a hot summer day just like this. We stood right over there. You were just a baby, but your mother picked you up out of the pram to show you. I put Holly up on my shoulders for a better view, and Gary was clinging to the fence right there, roaring. Do you remember that, Hol?"
Holly was staring out at the lions, ignoring the pair of them. She'd probably been too young to remember, anyway.
Toby had taken plenty of photos that day, but he had no idea where they'd gone. It couldn't have been more than a month or two before Toby crashed his car through Kathy Rockwell. "Gen was bouncing you, singing a song about the jungle." Toby had forgotten all about it. It felt like he'd forgotten a lot of the good times. He remembered plenty of fighting and nagging and more than a few nights spent sleeping in the spare room in that last year, but there'd been good times, too.
Harry was riveted. "What else did Mom like?"
"She liked the elephants and the tigers, but the lions were her favourite."
Holly turned from the fence and snapped, "Don't talk about her."
Toby blinked, caught off guard. "Harry just wants-"
"I don't want to talk about her!" Her voice was getting loud.
"I can if I want to!" retorted Harry.
"She didn't care about you!"
"Holly!" Toby stepped forward, and so did Holly.
"She didn't! Stop talking about Mom and Gary! I don't want to talk about them!"
Toby was ready to snap back, until he noticed the way her lips were pressed, the shine in her eyes. If this went any further, someone was going to end up in tears. Maybe Toby. "All right. It's okay, Hol." Harry opened his mouth to protest, so Toby put a hand on Holly's shoulder to quiet her for a moment. "Harry, how about we spend some time together later? Just you and me, and you can ask anything you want."
Harry stared poison at his sister. "She always gets what she wants."
Toby would have to fix that tomorrow. "Let's go see the tigers."
Toby kept his sigh of relief quiet when Harry wanted to go to the bathroom, and he finally had a moment alone with Holly. He pulled her into a sweaty hug, held her tight for a couple of minutes. "Are you okay?"
She nodded against his chest.
"What upset you?"
"I don't want to talk about them."
He pulled back to see her face. "We talk about them all the time." Toby hadn't wanted them to become some kind of taboo, so he'd tried to mention them in little ways. Holly had never objected.
"Not when he's here."
"They're his family, too."
"No, they're not!"
"Holly, you can't-"
"I wish he was dead instead of Gary!"
"Don't say that!"
"Then it could just be you and me and Gary!"
"I mean it, Holly! Don't ever say that again!"
"Ow! Let me go!"
He realised he was grasping her arms too tight and let go, and she stumbled back, and then she stormed off to sit on a bench, looking anywhere but at Toby.
Toby felt sick. He'd almost shaken her. He'd lost enough people he loved without hearing it wished on the few he had left.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Elliot showed Dickie how to lay the painter's tape straight and firm, let him take care of the floor while Elliot worked on the windows. Dickie and Lizzie had both decided summer vacation was time to redecorate, get rid of all the kid stuff in their rooms. Lizzie was probably going to take until August to clean her room, so Dickie was getting first makeover. It was long overdue, but all the race cars Kathy had painted along the wooden moulding were going to be covered, the matching curtains they'd found replaced with plain green. Elliot felt a little stab of empathy for Toby the other night, mourning his family's winter house in Vermont.
On the other hand, it felt nice working on this, just him and Dickie. Teaching his son how to paint.
Elliot's phone rang and he dug it out, hoping it was Toby and not- Yes. "You okay for a moment, Dickie?"
Dickie waved him off and went back to taping off the skirting board, used to Elliot rushing away every time the phone rang.
Elliot picked up, heading downstairs to his old kitchen. "Hey."
"What are you wearing?"
Elliot snorted. "My rattiest old tank top." Toby was probably still in a polo shirt, even in this heat.
"How's the painting going?"
"Dickie changed his mind about the colour four times at the hardware store. We just got home an hour ago." Not really Elliot's home anymore. Everyone else was out, so he wandered around the kitchen, snooping. They had a new toaster. "How about you? How's the vacation?"
"I took Harry to Genevieve's grave today."
Elliot sat at the dining table. "How was that?"
"It was... nice." He sounded surprised. "I've only been there once since I got out. Gary and Dad are there, too; I couldn't..."
"I get it."
"We took some flowers; I told him stories. I haven't thought that much about the good memories with Gen in a long time. Holly never seems interested when I mention her, but Harry bombarded me with questions, wanted to know everything."
Elliot leaned on the table, traced the gouge Dickie had left with his fork as a six year-old's objection to peas. "Holly's own memories may be hazy, but she has some. Genevieve must be a mystery to Harry, probably deified by her parents."
"Pretty much."
Elliot tried to imagine painting a picture of Kathy for Dickie and Lizzie, if they hadn't had a chance to know her. A lot of the stories he'd tell would be from here, in this kitchen. The songs she sang while she nursed them, the birthday cakes she decorated. "They can tell her about Genevieve as a child, but you knew her as a mother. Maybe that's what he's looking for."
"Yeah. I think you're right."
"It was just you and Harry today?"
There was a telling pause. "We were having a good run until the zoo yesterday. We had a good run for most of the zoo."
"And then?"
"Holly lost it when we started talking about Gen and Gary. She refuses to see Harry as family." Elliot could picture Toby rubbing his eyes behind his glasses. "She wished Harry was dead instead of Gary."
"Toby... Kids say things. They don't always think about what it means. And Holly and Gary survived a lot together." They visited their father in Oswald, they found their mother's body, they were kidnapped. Harry hadn't been part of any of that.
"I know. Look, you should get back to Dickie. Make sure he hasn't started painting the room black, or something."
"Yeah. You're doing okay, Toby. This was never going to be smooth."
"I know."
"I'll see you soon."
"Elliot?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks."
Elliot smiled. "Don't worry about it, Toby. Glad I could listen."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
end chapter 23
Feedback provides all the nutrients a growing squid needs. Concrit thoroughly welcome, warm fuzzies treasured. Here or at drsquidlove @@@ livejournal.com
The complete works of Dr Squidlove can be found at http://members.iinet.net.au/~tentacles/squidfic.html
S.
by Dr Squidlove
drsquidlove @@@ livejournal.com
Oz/Law & Order: SVU crossover
Tobias Beecher's trying to rebuild his family in the shadow of the man he was in prison. Elliot Stabler's struggling to continue in the wake of divorce while his job eats away at his soul. It makes for an odd friendship, but it works.
Rated R for violence and explicit references to sexual violence.
Wordcount this post: 4591
Full headers are on chapter 1.
Oz is the property of Tom Fontana and HBO. Law & Order: SVU is the property of Dick Wolf and NBC. The characters are used without permission, but with much appreciation.
Someone Like You
chapter 23: Lions
by Dr Squidlove
Previously, in chapter 22, Licence:
Toby showed Elliot his clean blood test; Elliot made it clear he wasn't here for casual sex. 'Cos he doesn't do that. Toby finally manned up and accepted that he wanted Elliot for Elliot. So I guess we can call this a relationship, now.
Elliot celebrated their new beginning and Toby's clean bill of health by rolling up his sleeves for his first blow job, which was tastefully illustrated by barbana.
They'd left the window open for air, and the sounds of traffic filtered up from the streets, city lights keeping the room from real dark.
Sharing a bed felt strange. They'd tried Toby on his back with Elliot curled against him and vice versa. They'd tried spooning this way and that, but they were both big men and it was July. Elliot had forgotten it could take a while to learn how to share a bed. They'd finally settled shoulder to shoulder, Toby's sweaty calf dangling over Elliot's shin, all but the sheet pushed to the floor. Elliot could have fallen asleep in two minutes flat, but it had been so long since he'd had this: a warm body to be with. He was fighting to stay awake because he didn't want to let go of tonight: the delicate mood of freshly-patched wounds, all the things they held private still close to the surface.
Elliot wondered if Toby knew he'd forgotten to hide his brand tonight, as he dragged Elliot back to the bedroom.
He looked over; Toby's eyes were open, staring up at the ceiling.
Toby felt his gaze and returned it. "Doing anything special this weekend?"
Elliot dragged a toe over Toby's hairy ankle. "Other than this?"
"With your kids. Fourth of July? Big holiday?"
"They always go to Kathy's sister's in New Jersey for a barbecue on the Fourth, but I managed to get nosebleed tickets for the Mets game tomorrow night."
"Nice."
Better than nice. A game and his kids. Throw in sex like this with Toby, and it would be pretty much a perfect night. "How about you?"
"Mother said we can get a good view of the fireworks from Manhattan Beach by her house, without the crowds of Coney Island. Though we might head down there during the day - apparently Holly loves Nathan's hot-dog-eating competition. I can't see Harry having any objection to that."
Elliot chuckled. "It sounds like your talk with her went well."
"We ended up crammed on her bed, talking until almost ten. Everything's good with her." His smile was bright, but it faded fast. "I've got some hard conversations with Harry while he's here." He sighed. "I looked around, but none of the parenting books tell you how to explain your heroin addiction to your kids."
In this quiet, close mood, it felt safe enough to ask. "When you were doing drugs - that was through Vern?"
"Yeah."
Elliot was slowly putting Toby's experience together, one detail at a time. Toby being an addict still made him nervous, but he couldn't judge him for using drugs to get through months of rape. There was no drug in the world that could have gotten Elliot through that. "I'm guessing that's not how you explained it to Holly."
Toby huffed. "No, I just stuck with 'really, really terrible'. She said she was glad I had a boyfriend in prison, as if that's what every little girl wishes for her father."
The private, still close to the surface. "What did you tell her about him?"
"I told her he took care of me, that he helped when I missed her and her brothers. That's true enough."
But not entirely true? "What was he like?"
"Elliot..."
"Tell me something about him. You know a lot about Kathy." Elliot didn't know if that was true, but Toby knew some things. Elliot didn't know anything about Chris. He pictured a skinny, geeky guy, maybe a little effeminate. Another sharp mind for Toby to latch onto in the sea of brutish cons.
Toby's body softened against him as he let the protests go. "He was different to you. He was stubborn, protective. Didn't like to let anyone know what he was thinking." He couldn't hide the affection in his voice. Toby still loved him.
"He sounds like me."
"Nothing like you," Toby retorted, voice suddenly sharp.
"All right." Elliot guessed he hadn't earned the comparison. "Holly said he was in for robbery."
"Holly said?" Toby moved to lean up on his elbow, but Elliot nudged him back down. They could talk about Holly and what she knew any time.
"I assume it was armed robbery, if he was in a maximum." Elliot held his breath, waiting for Toby to answer.
"He went off the rails after his last divorce-"
"He'd been married?"
"Four times."
More than Munch. Six months ago Elliot had thought mid-life conversion was a myth. Now it seemed like what all the cool divorced men were doing. "Did he have kids?"
"No. He was high, things got out of hand. He killed the store owner."
Elliot caught his breath. He hadn't expected murder. Not so much like Elliot after all.
"Enough, Elliot?"
Toby had loved a murderer. Another junkie. Elliot wanted to know more, but that was enough to swallow for now. He backed up through the conversation for something safer. "Holly really didn't care that you like men?" Elliot couldn't see his kids glancing over that detail.
"She didn't seem to think it mattered at all."
Elliot tried to imagine how he would have reacted if he'd found out his repressed Irish Catholic cop dad was gay. Not with a shrug: he was sure of that.
Toby tipped his head towards Elliot, voice teasing. "She said she likes you. She's glad I have a friend." He shook his head. He was getting his first taste of his own children treating him like a helpless kid.
They fell quiet. Toby was probably relieved that Elliot had stopped pushing him about Chris. Drugs and murder. A man who really belonged in that place.
"My mother's thinking of selling our winter house."
"You have a winter house?" Elliot forgot, sometimes, about Toby's fancy upbringing. Rich white collar parents, probably a staff to clean their home, and cook, and raise the kids. The whole family through Harvard. And now Toby was disbarred, an ex-con with a cop boyfriend. Elliot wondered how that would sit with Mrs Beecher. Probably better than a murderer. No wonder the family hadn't liked Chris.
"Yes, we have a winter house, near Lake Champlain. It was nice in the summer, too, but it was really for the skiing."
They talked about easy things until Toby's answers slurred and slowed. Elliot was halfway gone as well, but he held on. He'd slept alone for so long.
He liked being here, allowed into Toby's space, allowed to watch him sleep. Toby's mouth was hanging open, hair messed. The rhythm of Toby's breathing was different to Kathy's. The way he sprawled.
So now Elliot had blown a guy.
It was funny how that summoned up the memory of being at school the day after he and Kathy had sex for the first time. High on love and losing his virginity, bursting with the secret milestone. Obsessing with all the new things he'd learned: that it wasn't as easy as it looked in the magazines, that Kathy had a whole different kind of soft, sexy moan when he was inside her, that pulling out when you were ready to come was the hardest thing in the world.
This had definitely been easier. At least this time they both knew what they were doing, and they were both too old to be shy about talking. Toby had told Elliot exactly what he wanted and where: kiss me there, now suck me, please.
Elliot had always thought balls were ugly, nothing like the beautiful folds women had between their legs. But he'd taken some time to nuzzle Toby's balls the way Toby had done for him, and he'd definitely changed his mind. Or maybe it was just Toby's balls, soft and cool and a shortcut to making Toby writhe.
Elliot liked how Toby's cock had swelled on his tongue and filled his mouth, the way Toby's whole body had shuddered around him, powerful thighs and rippling abs craving for more. Elliot's own cock stirred at the memory. There was going to be plenty more of that in his future.
Toby woke with a gasp, and a sigh. Twisted his head to see the clock: just past three. Another formless half-dream. He'd woken at twelve-thirty, and two. Between Toby's shallow sleep and Elliot's tossing and turning, this was going to be hard to get used to. It had been nine years since Toby last shared a bed, and he'd been a lot better at sleeping then.
Nine years almost exactly: happy anniversary on your conviction, Prisoner #97B412. It was about the last thing he wanted to dwell on tonight.
The room was stuffy with an extra body to keep it warm. Toby poked a foot out from under the sheet, turned his head to watch Elliot's frowning profile, the rise and fall of his chest, his hand twitching on the sheets bunched at his waist.
This whole thing wasn't fair to Elliot, but right now, Toby didn't give a fuck. This beat waking up to an empty room.
Toby slipped out and went to piss, dazed and wired, considered flopping on the couch to watch TV until his mind settled, but that never worked. Besides, it seemed like a waste, when there was something much nicer to watch in his bed.
He crept back in, hit hard with the scent of spunk and sweat filling the room. It smelled like lockdown.
That had been two weeks of... if not happiness, then contentment, at least. Safety. Love with a heaped helping of passion. In between the sex - and there'd been plenty of that - Toby had set himself on the task of separating out pieces of the real Chris Keller. He really did have three ex-wives, with Bonny signing up twice. He'd still loved them all. He'd known how to play chess long before Toby tried to teach him - and that had been a revelation into Chris's mind: how sharp did you have to be, to feign the curve of learning chess?
In the gloom, Elliot might have been him.
He wasn't. No plots, no subtext, no hidden agenda. Plenty of confusion, but no manipulation. Elliot liked Toby, so he kissed him on his front steps. Elliot liked Toby, so he sucked Toby's cock.
Toby eased under the covers, and Elliot rolled to face him, slurred, "Am I keeping you awake?"
"I never sleep through." He ran his fingers through the hair on Elliot's chest, wondering how awake he was, got a rumble. Light fingernails down Elliot's belly.
Elliot didn't open his eyes, but in the shadows Toby saw the corner of his mouth lift. "You tryin' keep me awake?"
That sounded like a great idea. Toby wriggled forward and licked Elliot's nipple. Licked, sucked, and then caught it in the point of his teeth, felt Elliot's whole body come awake. Just a tiny bite of pain, but Elliot didn't protest, too surprised or maybe he just liked it. Back to soothing lips and tongue, a hand on Elliot's hip to keep him steady, then to press him backwards so Toby could kiss his way across to Elliot's other nipple, kiss and lick and suckle, could feel the tension in Elliot's body, awaiting the sting. Toby opened wide, let his teeth gently graze over skin towards the tip, Elliot's hips lifting in anticipation until Toby gave him the sharp little bite he'd been waiting for.
A heavy hand curled behind Toby's neck, not knowing whether to stop him or encourage him, and Toby let go, flicked his tongue over the sensitised nipple, and Elliot's hand tightened.
"Are you awake?"
"I'm awake, Toby."
Toby slid on top and pushed his knees between Elliot's. Their skin was sticky and warm. He slid up Elliot's body, and then slid down again, catching Elliot's thick cock between his thighs. "You like it like this, Elliot? Like Ancient Greece?"
"I'm not so fond of boys." But Elliot's big hands cupped his ass, rocking Toby around his cock. Sleepy-eyed but smiling. "Got something to ease the way?"
Toby kept their hips locked together as he reached for the lube.
"Turn the light on while you're there, Toby. Want to see you."
Toby bumped the switch and they both screwed up their eyes, blinking. He slicked his hand and reached back between his legs to fist Elliot's cock, was glad he could see Elliot's face go slack as he worked him. He leaned up on his elbow and spilled more lube across Elliot's stomach where he was going to rub his own cock. "I'm going to have to buy more sheets."
Elliot grinned and pulled him close again, letting out a "Yeah," as his cock pumped easily between Toby's thighs.
His hands shifted between Toby's hips and ass to control the pace, slow and steady, fingers digging deeper as he urged him on until he was growling in Toby's ear, wet cock skimming by Toby's balls.
Toby could get used to this unselfconscious, middle-of-the-night Elliot.
Elliot had said kids had to build their own relationships, and you couldn't control it. Mother said Holly and Harry would start feeling like a family when they spent more time like a family. Angus said Toby had to sit them down together, talk it through. Toby just wanted to keep them too busy to fight.
It was a lot easier having everyone around. With eight people at meals, no one had to talk to anyone they didn't want to. At Coney Island after they all watched people cram absurd numbers of hot dogs in their mouths, Toby and Angus took Harry and Angus' boys on the rides while Mother and Angus's wife Ellen walked Holly along the beach. Timothy and Jack got along fine with Harry.
In the evening, Toby got to spend his first free Fourth of July in ten years watching fireworks over the bay with an arm around each of his kids, and for most of it he was blinking back the blur of tears.
Toby put the conversation with Harry off to the third day, but he'd promised himself no later. He wanted it over with, maybe even forgotten, well before Harry went home to San Diego. Toby wondered if Elliot would have had any good advice on this one. Probably not; Elliot had never spent six months funnelling drugs up his nose.
Harry had forsaken the air conditioning to play by himself down in a back corner of the garden, and there wouldn't be a better opportunity. Toby scooped out a couple of bowls of ice cream as a shameless bribe, and headed out into the sticky heat. "Hey, Harry. Whatcha doing?"
Harry considered the broom handle he'd just propped against a branch, and then shifted it a foot to the right. "Designing a fort. Tim and Jack are going to join in when they get back." He looked up and saw the two big bowls of ice cream Toby was holding, and a little interest sparked.
"All right. Can we talk?"
Harry shrugged, and started pulling his grandmother's potted conifer into his design.
Holly was always eager for any chance at a meaningful conversation, unless she thought she was in trouble. Harry avoided them for all he was worth. Another factor that made it a struggle to get as close with his son. Toby found a shady spot on the ground inside the marked-out fort and waited, until Harry seemed to realise it wasn't going to happen without him. He stopped fiddling with the plant and sat on the chair he'd stolen from the porch, reaching for the offered bowl and digging straight in.
Toby folded his legs, already sweating, trying to look as unthreatening as possible. "Harry, did someone tell you I used to use drugs?"
Harry went red and shrugged, and Toby's breath lodged sideways in his throat. So much like Gary, who'd bloomed red at even a suggestion of guilt. They got the blushing gene from Genevieve.
"You're not in trouble. And it's true."
Harry's head came up. He hadn't expected the admission.
"I've made some terrible mistakes. You know that. I drank too much, and I killed someone, and that's why I went to prison. Prison was very, very hard, so for a few months in that first year, I took drugs so I didn't have to think about it."
Harry looked like he'd rather be anywhere else. Toby empathised. This conversation had been hard enough with Holly, who always gave him the benefit of the doubt.
"At first it seemed to help, but then it made everything worse, so I stopped." Not by choice so much as a long stint in the Hole after trying to kill Schillinger and himself, followed by an adjustment period spent experimenting with being crazy. Also, son, I bit the end off the cock of the next man who tried to rape me. Confession was good for the soul, but you had to measure out the details. "I don't do it anymore. I haven't in a long time. I'm sorry you found out, but since you did, I thought you deserved to know the truth from me."
Harry shoved an enormous spoonful of ice cream in his mouth, and stared off into the garden.
"Is there anything you want to ask?"
Harry shook his head, hard.
A nine year-old wasn't supposed to know about his father's drug habit. "You can ask me anything, Harry. Any time. Anything you want to know, and I'll try to tell the truth, all right? I'd rather you ask me than be left wondering by gossip or things you've overheard."
"Okay."
This would have been the perfect time for Harry to ask if Toby would ever go back to prison, or to tell Toby how grateful he was to have Jonah for a father instead of Toby, or share whatever else he'd been whispering in Holly's ear out of Toby's hearing, but he only waved away a bee, and then stared hard as it buzzed off to hover in the poppies.
Toby wanted to hug him, but Harry always took physical affection stiffly, like something to bear. "Do you want some help building your fort?"
"No, I'm fine."
All right then. Toby lingered, picking unenthusiastically at his ice cream, until it just felt awkward. He stood and brushed himself off, and headed back into the air conditioning.
Harry seemed content to pretend their conversation in his fort never happened. It worked for Toby, too. Harry was happy if they went to the beach most mornings, had stopped comparing the waves to his favourite San Diego beaches. Holly was content to wade along the shore, as long as they didn't stay too long and she got an ice cream on the way home.
Things were going well. Calm enough that on Friday Toby decided to brave hundred-degree weather at the Bronx Zoo, just the three of them. He'd got the hang of rationing out conversation like cake, perfectly equal slices for everyone. He wondered if this was how the UN worked.
He let them both pull out their electronics on the subway to keep the peace. It gave him an hour to enjoy watching them. Holly was flicking through songs on her ipod, sometimes kicking her feet in time, always playing with the hem of her skirt or the end of her blonde braid. Harry had his dark head down, totally absorbed in Mario Brothers, his whole body leaning and jerking as he thumbed the buttons, letting out the occasional quiet, "No!" or "Yeah!"
Once they arrived, rhinos and snakes and bears turned out to be the perfect distraction. Harry loved animals as much as Holly did. They both whined a little at the heat, but there wasn't a sharp word between them all day, even when they shared a table at lunch for hot dogs and nachos.
They saved the lions for the afternoon, but as soon as they were within sight, Harry raced for the fence. Toby and Holly followed at a more dignified pace. Three lions lay stretched out in the sun, too hot to do more than flick their tails.
"Your mother loved the lions."
Harry looked back over his shoulder. "Really?"
"They were her favourite." Gen had talked about going to Africa one day, to see them in the wild.
"Did Mom come to the zoo?"
"We all did. The whole family. It was a hot summer day just like this. We stood right over there. You were just a baby, but your mother picked you up out of the pram to show you. I put Holly up on my shoulders for a better view, and Gary was clinging to the fence right there, roaring. Do you remember that, Hol?"
Holly was staring out at the lions, ignoring the pair of them. She'd probably been too young to remember, anyway.
Toby had taken plenty of photos that day, but he had no idea where they'd gone. It couldn't have been more than a month or two before Toby crashed his car through Kathy Rockwell. "Gen was bouncing you, singing a song about the jungle." Toby had forgotten all about it. It felt like he'd forgotten a lot of the good times. He remembered plenty of fighting and nagging and more than a few nights spent sleeping in the spare room in that last year, but there'd been good times, too.
Harry was riveted. "What else did Mom like?"
"She liked the elephants and the tigers, but the lions were her favourite."
Holly turned from the fence and snapped, "Don't talk about her."
Toby blinked, caught off guard. "Harry just wants-"
"I don't want to talk about her!" Her voice was getting loud.
"I can if I want to!" retorted Harry.
"She didn't care about you!"
"Holly!" Toby stepped forward, and so did Holly.
"She didn't! Stop talking about Mom and Gary! I don't want to talk about them!"
Toby was ready to snap back, until he noticed the way her lips were pressed, the shine in her eyes. If this went any further, someone was going to end up in tears. Maybe Toby. "All right. It's okay, Hol." Harry opened his mouth to protest, so Toby put a hand on Holly's shoulder to quiet her for a moment. "Harry, how about we spend some time together later? Just you and me, and you can ask anything you want."
Harry stared poison at his sister. "She always gets what she wants."
Toby would have to fix that tomorrow. "Let's go see the tigers."
Toby kept his sigh of relief quiet when Harry wanted to go to the bathroom, and he finally had a moment alone with Holly. He pulled her into a sweaty hug, held her tight for a couple of minutes. "Are you okay?"
She nodded against his chest.
"What upset you?"
"I don't want to talk about them."
He pulled back to see her face. "We talk about them all the time." Toby hadn't wanted them to become some kind of taboo, so he'd tried to mention them in little ways. Holly had never objected.
"Not when he's here."
"They're his family, too."
"No, they're not!"
"Holly, you can't-"
"I wish he was dead instead of Gary!"
"Don't say that!"
"Then it could just be you and me and Gary!"
"I mean it, Holly! Don't ever say that again!"
"Ow! Let me go!"
He realised he was grasping her arms too tight and let go, and she stumbled back, and then she stormed off to sit on a bench, looking anywhere but at Toby.
Toby felt sick. He'd almost shaken her. He'd lost enough people he loved without hearing it wished on the few he had left.
Elliot showed Dickie how to lay the painter's tape straight and firm, let him take care of the floor while Elliot worked on the windows. Dickie and Lizzie had both decided summer vacation was time to redecorate, get rid of all the kid stuff in their rooms. Lizzie was probably going to take until August to clean her room, so Dickie was getting first makeover. It was long overdue, but all the race cars Kathy had painted along the wooden moulding were going to be covered, the matching curtains they'd found replaced with plain green. Elliot felt a little stab of empathy for Toby the other night, mourning his family's winter house in Vermont.
On the other hand, it felt nice working on this, just him and Dickie. Teaching his son how to paint.
Elliot's phone rang and he dug it out, hoping it was Toby and not- Yes. "You okay for a moment, Dickie?"
Dickie waved him off and went back to taping off the skirting board, used to Elliot rushing away every time the phone rang.
Elliot picked up, heading downstairs to his old kitchen. "Hey."
"What are you wearing?"
Elliot snorted. "My rattiest old tank top." Toby was probably still in a polo shirt, even in this heat.
"How's the painting going?"
"Dickie changed his mind about the colour four times at the hardware store. We just got home an hour ago." Not really Elliot's home anymore. Everyone else was out, so he wandered around the kitchen, snooping. They had a new toaster. "How about you? How's the vacation?"
"I took Harry to Genevieve's grave today."
Elliot sat at the dining table. "How was that?"
"It was... nice." He sounded surprised. "I've only been there once since I got out. Gary and Dad are there, too; I couldn't..."
"I get it."
"We took some flowers; I told him stories. I haven't thought that much about the good memories with Gen in a long time. Holly never seems interested when I mention her, but Harry bombarded me with questions, wanted to know everything."
Elliot leaned on the table, traced the gouge Dickie had left with his fork as a six year-old's objection to peas. "Holly's own memories may be hazy, but she has some. Genevieve must be a mystery to Harry, probably deified by her parents."
"Pretty much."
Elliot tried to imagine painting a picture of Kathy for Dickie and Lizzie, if they hadn't had a chance to know her. A lot of the stories he'd tell would be from here, in this kitchen. The songs she sang while she nursed them, the birthday cakes she decorated. "They can tell her about Genevieve as a child, but you knew her as a mother. Maybe that's what he's looking for."
"Yeah. I think you're right."
"It was just you and Harry today?"
There was a telling pause. "We were having a good run until the zoo yesterday. We had a good run for most of the zoo."
"And then?"
"Holly lost it when we started talking about Gen and Gary. She refuses to see Harry as family." Elliot could picture Toby rubbing his eyes behind his glasses. "She wished Harry was dead instead of Gary."
"Toby... Kids say things. They don't always think about what it means. And Holly and Gary survived a lot together." They visited their father in Oswald, they found their mother's body, they were kidnapped. Harry hadn't been part of any of that.
"I know. Look, you should get back to Dickie. Make sure he hasn't started painting the room black, or something."
"Yeah. You're doing okay, Toby. This was never going to be smooth."
"I know."
"I'll see you soon."
"Elliot?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks."
Elliot smiled. "Don't worry about it, Toby. Glad I could listen."
end chapter 23
Feedback provides all the nutrients a growing squid needs. Concrit thoroughly welcome, warm fuzzies treasured. Here or at drsquidlove @@@ livejournal.com
The complete works of Dr Squidlove can be found at http://members.iinet.net.au/~tentacles/squidfic.html
S.
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no subject
Date: 2014-12-01 04:30 am (UTC)See what you do to me? Now I want Elliot to find out fast so he won't spend the majority of the story mad at Toby! Bahhhh.
Sincerely,
Exasperated. (Guess that's my name now lol)
no subject
Date: 2014-12-02 10:09 am (UTC)Yup, you are now Exasperated for always.
Alternatively, the sooner Elliot finds out, the longer he'll have to wallow in his anger at Toby. Y'know, if that's how it's going to happen...
Thank you! Your anxiety is my heroin.
S.
no subject
Date: 2014-12-01 05:14 am (UTC)A skinny, geeky guy? No, Ell, nooo..more like you than you know. Physically.
Great chapter.
no subject
Date: 2014-12-02 10:12 am (UTC)I've really had a good time trying to imagine what Elliot might imagine Chris to be like. He's guaranteed to be wiiiiide off the mark.
Thanks maze!
S.
no subject
Date: 2014-12-02 11:47 am (UTC)Unfortunately I can't write kids, so they're sort of in the background. Your kids are brilliantly drawn, so bravo. Lots of people get kids soo wrong,especially in slash, so great job.
no subject
Date: 2014-12-02 01:22 pm (UTC)Awesome! I could happily read coming out stories all day long.
Kids generally should be in the background. It's an unfortunate side-effect of my affectionate-father-kink that they keep ending up in my stories.
And thank you! I think writers get them wrong because they think kids are cute, which they aren't. Or that they're little bubbles of positivity and joy, which they also aren't. Hollywood doesn't know squat about kids.
S.
no subject
Date: 2014-12-01 07:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-12-02 10:57 am (UTC)Thanks, helvetica!
Holly and Harry are so easy to write. I just pile up all their baggage and drive them at each other.
Oh, yeah. If you ever want to be miserable, just imagine Toby's brief parole. Should have been a glorious homecoming, but Harrison only died a week or two earlier. Toby's mother was freshly-widowed; Holly just buried another parent-figure. Harry had been dragged out of his familiar home in San Diego to a house of strangers in mourning and told this is where he lives now.
I'd love to write it, but I can't see any way to work in any sex or cheerfulness, so instead I've just threaded it through the background of this story.
S.
The contented sigh of a romantic yankee sap...
Date: 2014-12-01 01:07 pm (UTC)I agree with he1vetia. Your description of the kids and their tense interactions with each other and sometimes with Toby is priceless. You have an incredible grasp on the emotions and inner working of these people. I love it!
Now, this may sound like picky criticism, but it's not... Every once in a while I notice that these characters say things in a way that an American would not. (i.e., "He was different to you." as opposed to "He was different *from* you"). I hope you don't mind me compensating with the "US-appropriate" equivalencies as I read, but I also hope you don't mind that I delight in imagining Elliot's Queens' accent or Toby's speech patterns mixing with a dialect from another part of the world. It's part of the charm of this story too. This is, after all, another world to both of them in a way. :)
With all that said, I too am curious to see what happens when Elliot learns more about what Chris had done before Oz besides armed robbery, murder, and doing copious amounts of speed. However, I am not going to project gloom and doom. Not yet anyway. :)
Thanks again! Looking forward to the next installment.
Re: The contented sigh of a romantic yankee sap...
Date: 2014-12-02 11:19 am (UTC)Thanks, sahem!
It's one of those truisms I must write to correct. Fictional true love always seems to overcome all problems including the inherent weirdness of sharing a bed when you're used to sleeping alone. Time and practise is what makes tangling limbs work.
So glad you like the kids! It's always dangerous working kids into stories - it definitely makes me a wary reader. But these two have so much going on, it would be hard to turn them into cutesy caricatures. Holly, for one, wouldn't stand for it. :-)
Oh, I know there are going to be non-Americanisms slipping through. My language is a hodge-podge of three different Englishes, so catching it all myself is hopeless. In other stories I've specifically gone searching for someone to catch them, but this story is so out of control huge, and since I don't actually know anyone in this fandom, I decided to just let it go. But seriously, if you ever want to point any out so I can fix them, I'd really love it, wouldn't be offended at all.
I'm really enjoying Elliot painting his own picture of Chris. It's so deliciously wrong.
S.
no subject
Date: 2014-12-02 07:23 am (UTC)I know I won't gaining any friend for saying something to a kid as an adult like that. But, what the hell. I'm pro Holly! She's been go through hell, no need for an annoying brother.
Really, I'm curious of the path you'll take for Harry.
God, have mercy on me. No more hot man on man action between Toby and Elliot. I don't any have brain left inside my skull to throw at the wall. The sex is too hot, kinky, sexy.
I like the way you described Toby in this story. You gave us every personalities he had when he was in Oz, from geeky, slutty Toby, self-depreciating Toby, nurturing Toby, and couple others. Well maybe not crazy Toby. Or you're planning it for future chapter?
Oh Lee, you're a really great actor.
May I keep him? Pleaseeeee.... I'll be nice to Harry in the future.
no subject
Date: 2014-12-02 11:20 am (UTC)Oh, poor Harry. He just wants to know what his mother was like. :-) I have to admit, I don't actually know how much Harry's negative comments about Toby are a product of being a nine year-old boy having his stable life upset, and how much he's just trying to match Holly for viciousness. What all the cute kidfics out there miss is that kids are assholes. Holly included, though she deeply appreciates your support. :-D
No sex? Well, okay. I'll cut those scenes out. Though... I mean, are you sure? Even the one where Toby does the thing? And the one where Elliot is all shy, but then...? All right, all right. Scrapped.
Yay! I'm so happy you like all the Tobys. I do have a couple of other shades of Oz to work in. No nursery rhymes, but... other stuff.
You can't keep him. Chris will be mad. Or Elliot will be mad. Neither way will it work out well for you.
Thank you so much!
S.
no subject
Date: 2014-12-02 05:11 pm (UTC)Hey, I was wondering if Harry knew what Holly has been through?