All Right
2/99
by Te

Disclaimers: They are not mine.

Spoilers: References to Mac Daddy and True 
Blue. 

Ratings Note: R.

Summary: Being there.

Author's Note: I just saw True Blue for the first 
time. It was... affecting. 5/00 note: It still is. 
I still can't decide whether or not this is a 
direct sequel to "Protection," but it could be read
that way. 

Acknowledgments: To Ladonna for good beta, 
all those months ago. 

thete1@earthlink.net

******

It's all right for me to be here. 

Vic is too beaten down, in every way, to fully register
my presence. I can sit here, next to him. I can watch 
him hold the same tumbler of JD on the long-melted 
rocks for the second hour and not drink it. A little 
while ago, I went to his fridge and brought back a 
beer, but it's just sweating on his coffee table.

Finally, ostentatiously fussily, I slide a coaster under
it, hoping to get a reaction. And then I curse myself 
a little for the action. If he notices me, he'll see me 
sitting here, just a little too tense. 

Maybe just a little too close.

He smells like cordite, sweat, and too much damned 
pain. 

I want to tell him I understand, that I used to believe
in things, too. But there's no real help in that. The 
way he is now, it'll just make him more depressed. How
many times does the world have to tell him he's a jackass
before he gets it?

When I got here, he'd pulled on his leather jacket. The
collar was unfolded up around his neck. On anyone
 else, it would just look like some fantasy of a cheap 
hood. It *should* look that way. Part of me *wants* it 
to look that way.... But this isn't the first time I've 
seen him like this. 

I know exactly what it means. It's a security blanket. 
Hide the sensitive parts, tuck your head in just a little 
and maybe you'll be able to get through this, too, 
without anyone else noticing how vulnerable you are.

It makes me shiver, all on the inside I hope. I want to
lean over and nudge that bit of leather aside with my 
face. Rest my lips on the short hairs of the back of his
neck. Would he lean into the touch or push me 
away?

He's so *hurt* and yeah, that turns me on, too.

At least he isn't holding the badge anymore.

There's blood on his jeans that could only have 
belonged to Stan... when Li Ann and I opened the 
trunk, we'd found his body there. They'd made Vic 
carry him, and he'd obviously done his best to arrange
him in the tiny space with some measure of respect. 
Whatever he'd done, he'd still been a friend, I guess.

I think of how he'd tried to remind me of all the shit
my father had pulled with me when I'd sucked it up 
and asked for advice. Vic had been perfectly practical 
in his advice, but... angry. I suppose I should've 
known he'd have his own issues with forgiveness, but 
that damned badge...

It could, conceivably, be just a representation of that
dead past, but I don't think so. Not really. It belonged 
to *Stan*, and looking at the man in the trunk... dead 
people will never look good to me, and Stan was no 
model, but they hadn't marked his face. I looked at 
him, and couldn't help but wonder what he'd been like 
when he'd been a *real* friend to Vic.

He had the sort of rough-hewn, meaty face that 
suggests Blue-Collar Good Guy. And Vic had obviously
trusted him with his life. I wonder if Vic will ever learn
not to throw his soul into every person that promises 
to watch his back. 

I wonder if he's already thrown his soul at us. At me. 

He's still sitting there, breathing, staring, blinking.

I feel superfluous.

"Vic... should I go?"

He closes his eyes, a blink that quickly mutates into 
a wince. God, I'm sorry, the last thing I want for him
to think is that he's failing me somehow --

"It's all right, whatever you want, man. I just... I 
don't want to intrude."

I can't help but laugh at myself for that. No one had 
asked me to come here. Nothing had stopped me from
just staying in my own damned bed and *thinking* 
about his hand on mine, so warm, so grateful for that
tiny contact. Thinking about what I could do if I were 
here...

I shake it off and find Vic staring at me. Christ, he's 
so *open* right now. I feel this huge rush of power... I 
could do anything at all with him right now. He doesn't 
want to ask, but I could make him ask for anything at
all... I feel sick, but it doesn't stop me from leaning in 
closer.

He opens his mouth, and there's a brief exhalation of
somehow *weighted* air I know was supposed to be 
words. I press my lips against the silence and then I'm
pulled in --

No, I *move* in, and I take his soft mouth beneath my own
and it's so sweet that I have to deepen it. Have to slide 
my tongue in and taste and taste.

For one incredible moment he sucks on my tongue 
and I feel the pull in my cock which is suddenly, 
undeniably hard. So good it makes me groan like a 
teenager.

He pulls away from the kiss then and looks at me 
and I know this was a mistake. Coming here was a 
mistake because now he can see exactly how much 
I want him. It's no shame for me -- I've certainly 
never tried to pretend I always have full control 
over my cock -- but the timing is all wrong.

I shouldn't even be *thinking* about timing, I 
shouldn't be here, and I shouldn't be staring into 
his eyes like I am right now. I'm just as naked as 
he's ever been. 

"Mac..."

And his voice sounds hoarse and disused. Rough, 
textured into a plea. I could pretend it's a plea 
for more.

He wouldn't stop me, and I know I could make 
him forget all this for just a little while...

I want to, oh God please I want to.

I bite my own tongue viciously and turn away. Hear
him sigh more in relief than disappointment. I tell 
myself I *don't* need it, and keep repeating it for 
several moments. 

Finally, I reach out blindly and grasp his arm. 
Squeeze. I'm sorry, I'm sorry...

And then I walk out, close the door behind me, and 
leave us both alone.

~~~~
End.
~~~~