Unexpected Guests [Sean/Harry]
Apr. 3rd, 2005 08:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
palace_seanSean's mind was occupied with pricing and quantities and such-like, work he'd bought home with him because Eric had an appointment tonight and he thought he might as well. So the knocking on his door didn't register right away, that and the fact that it was more of a scratching, slithering, tapping noise.
His head came up from the pages and his brow furrowed as he got to his feet. Who the hell was that? Had to be someone he knew, else Security would have alerted him. He crossed to the door and opened it.
"Hey, Old Man," Harry chirped, slapping Sean on the shoulder as he walked right into the room, wandering into the living room and plunking himself down on the couch, taking a swig out of the bottle of scotch dangling from his hand. "Where's Bambi?" he asked, looking around the room.
"At work." Mystified but unconcerned, Sean closed the door and followed Harry over to the couch. He eyed the bottle of Scotch and then his friend's face, searching for clues. Didn't look like a celebratory expression in the darkened eyes.
Sean sat on the couch opposite and pointed at the bottle. "Sharing that, or do I get my own?"
Harry cocked his head as though he was considering it, took another long pull, then offered Sean his bottle. "Guess so. No backwashing though," he warned him, settling in against the couch.
"Oh, as if." Sean took a swig and handed it back, deciding he'd be better off with his own drink. He wandered over to the little bar, poured himself a decent shot and returned, slumping down into the couch and lifting long legs to rest on the seat opposite, feet next to Harry. "So?" he asked. "What's new?"
"Did I tell you that I know who it was almost killed me?" Harry said, taking another drink as soon as he had the bottle in his hand. "It's kind of a funny story... except for how it's really not."
"No, getting stabbed isn't all that funny when it's you, I imagine." Sean took a sip of his drink as well, keeping company with Harry. But only a small sip. "So who was it?" he asked casually.
"Angelina-Cunting-Jolie," Harry answered, raising his bottle in a mock toast. "Ain't that just a kick in the nuts, eh?" he snorted.
Sean's eyebrows shot straight up into his hairline. "Yer shittin' me!" he said as reflex, even though Harry wouldn't. "The woman who . . .?"
"The hellbitch who is pregnant with Marton's baby." Harry finished the sentence, altering the top a little. "Yep, apparently the same day she almost killed me, a bloody miracle took place and a thing who doesn't fuck men got pregnant. Imagine the odds. Lucky for her s'pose," Harry shrugged, his casual posture a direct contrast to the look in his eyes.
"Jeezus." Sean went silent, sipping his drink for real now as his thoughts leapt through a myriad of hoops. "Could she have . . .? I mean, how?" He shrugged his shoulders. "I just assumed she and Marton . . . I never asked. How the hell . . .?" He knew he wasn't making much sense, but he also knew Harry'd follow him and understand what his brain was trying to make sense of!
"Neither did I. And he didn't say. But I don't trust that cunt as far as Elijah can throw my pet rock. I've got no proof, and either way, doesn't matter. Baby's already on it's way." Harry glowered at his bottle, staring at the label to avoid looking at how much he'd drunk. "But she's dangerous. Even now. I underestimated her. Fucked up. Don't want anyone else to." Harry muttered.
"Dangerous?" Sean's eyes narrowed. "Marton? I mean, you told him right? He does know, doesn't he Harry?"
"He knows. I told him. What's he supposed to do, Sean- she's having his bloody kid," Harry growled, his words starting to run together a little.
Oh well, that was something at least. Sean relaxed again, confident that Marton could handle, well, anything. He watched Harry, sensing that there was more than just being pissed off about the woman who'd stabbed him being on the premises and pregnant. "He's doing what he's supposed to do." Sean said. "What about you? What are you supposed to be doing that you're not, Harry? Something's up."
Harry shrugged. "Sean? Marton asked me to keep quiet about what she did, and I agreed if I could tell you and..." Don't think about him "So if you could not tell anyone, that'd be good. It'd only hurt Marton if it got out- everyone thinks Elijah and I don't remember, and that's the way we're keeping it." Harry finished, picking at the label, blinking rapidly as he felt the alcohol hitting him.
If Orlando was a neon sign, he'd be flashing above Harry's head right about now, Sean thought with concern. He was getting mixed messages through his empathic senses, but no matter how scattered, it was all about Orlando. "Yeah, 'course." he said dismissively, "Goes without saying. What's up with you and Orlando, Harry?" Sean asked him flat out. "Is as plain as the nose on your face that summat's wrong."
"Not s'posed to be peeking in here, Sean. Cheating." Harry mumbled, tapping the side of his head with his hand, curling in on himself as his eyes started to close, the bottle held loosely in his free hand.
"I'm not peeking, you're broadcasting." Sean took advantage and reached across the dividing space, pinching the bottle from Harry's hand before he could stop him. "You don't get it back." He told a startled Harry. "Talk."
Harry made a half hearted attempt to grab it back, then slumped back against his side of the couch, lying down on his side and wrapping his arms around himself. "Nothin's up with me'n Orlando. Is no me an' Orlando." Harry said, his eyes drifting shut, his voice almost inaudible. "I left him." he mumbled, then went silent.
~~~~~~
Sean bustled around the suite, making no attempt to be extra quiet but not making excessive noise, either. Harry was still asleep, or passed out, on his couch and Eric was gone again. Sean finished his toast and poured himself another cup of coffee, then an orange juice and a large glass of water as he saw Harry begin to stir. He'd already called Dom and told him he'd be late. Harry's extraordinary statement from last night needed investigation a whole shitload more than the price lists for stationery.
"Buggering shit fuck damn hell god damn it." Harry mumbled, throwing his arm over his eyes to block the light that was trying to kill him. "Why the fuck do I smell coffee?"
"Because some of us humans like it." Sean told him. "If you can get your eyes unglued you'll see juice and a nice big glass of cold water on the coffee table. I've got Detoxal too, but I'm guessing you're punishing yourself, so I left it in the bathroom."
"Sean?" Harry murmured, moving his arm away from his face in confusion and regretting it instantly. "Jesus fucking god," he moaned, forcing himself to sit up and reach for the water, ignoring the mention of the Detoxal.
"Right the first time." Sean bought his coffee with him, not above torturing Harry just a little and sat down next to him, waiting until he'd drained the glass. "Now tell me about leaving Orlando." he said, taking a sip of his drink.
Harry wrinkled his nose at the coffee and looked at Sean in confusion for a moment before reality kicked in, a wave of pain crossing his face. "Oh."
"Yeah, 'oh'." Sean agreed. "About two seconds fore you passed out. Now, I was nice enough not to wake you back up again and demand a bloody answer, mate, but I'm damned if I'm above taking advantage of yer sorry state this morning and getting to the bottom of it. C'mon, Harry. What's happened?"
"There's really not that much to talk about, Sean." Harry reached for the orange juice and looked into the glass, trying to get his stomach to hold still long enough for him to drink it. "He'll be better off without me anyway."
If I had a desk or a wall right-handy, I'd be banging me bloody head on it now, Sean reflected, his face showing nothing of what he was thinking. Instead he said easily, "Oh? Why's that then?"
"Because I was right. I was never the one for him anyway." Harry said bitterly. "He wasted over a year of his life on me, but now he can move on. I should have known better anyway, after last time, but..." Harry sighed and shrugged. "Can't help who you fall in love with, can you?"
"Aaaaand that makes no sense whatsoever." Sean shook his head and got to his feet, picking up Harry's empty water glass as he did so. "You sort it into cohesion and I'll get you some more water." He told him. Which was precisely what he did, taking a short bathroom break as well and wandering back with the refilled glass to find Harry still where he'd left him, staring blindly out the window.
"Now," Sean said, handing Harry the water. "we both know that love is never a waste but other than that, you made no sense at all. Who fell in love? And what's last time got to do with this time?"
"I should have known better then to fall in love with him- if only it worked that way," Harry explained, looking at the water glass, because it was easier then looking at Sean. "But we don't get to decide that- do we? Any more then he could have "decided" that he was in love with James Marsden."
"Orlando's in love with James Marsden?" Sean said slowly. "Not with you?"
Harry shrugged noncommittally, finishing the second glass of water and putting it aside.
"All of a sudden, just like that. Orlando stops loving you and starts loving this James. The friend-guy, James, yeah?" He didn't wait for a response but kept one eye on Harry who'd just been slipped a dose of Detoxal without his knowledge. Sean figured things were hard enough without battling with Hungover Harry. The Detoxal was the tasteless variety and he'd feel better in a couple of minutes. Maybe then he'd start talking sense. "You do realise that's bullshit, don't you?" He asked. "I mean, we both know I'm the King of Ignorance when it comes to relationships, but even I know what crap smells like."
"I didn't say he stopped loving me, Sean. I said he's in love with James. And I know he is because he fucking told me he was, okay?" Harry said, his tone heating up as he woke up more. "He didn't want to tell me either- and you didn't see the look on his face after he said it," he finished, wondering if it was too early in the day to start drinking again.
Sean rolled his eyes but was giving Harry's words some serious thought. He'd known Orlando nearly all his life, knew what kind of kid he was, what kind of man he'd become and shallow was not a word he'd associate with Orlando at all. He wasn't buying this, not for one second, but he had to give it some thought before his brain went 'ping' and the lightbulb came on.
"He thinks he is." Sean said in definite tones. "Harry listen . . . Orlando's young, you're his first true love and he loves you still, you just said so. He's infatuated, that's all and too young to know the difference yet."
Sliding an arm around his friend's shoulders, he pulled him close onto his chest, no longer worried about being thrown-up on and hugged him tight, kissing his hair. "I'm betting you don't believe me and that's okay. Don't expect you to. Neither one of us is real good at this 'love' stuff. But I know I'm right, I just . . . do. Give it time and it'll sort out. Meantime, you need a place to crash, you're welcome here. You know that. Our spare room's yours if you want it."
Harry rested against Sean, his friends words washing over him, none of them penetrating, not enough energy to argue even if they did. "Tired," he mumbled, closing his eyes.
"Back to sleep then." Sean rubbed soothing circles on Harry's back as he felt his body relax against his own. Harry was too upset for rational talk, right now comfort and company was more important and those he could provide. "I'll be here."
His head came up from the pages and his brow furrowed as he got to his feet. Who the hell was that? Had to be someone he knew, else Security would have alerted him. He crossed to the door and opened it.
"Hey, Old Man," Harry chirped, slapping Sean on the shoulder as he walked right into the room, wandering into the living room and plunking himself down on the couch, taking a swig out of the bottle of scotch dangling from his hand. "Where's Bambi?" he asked, looking around the room.
"At work." Mystified but unconcerned, Sean closed the door and followed Harry over to the couch. He eyed the bottle of Scotch and then his friend's face, searching for clues. Didn't look like a celebratory expression in the darkened eyes.
Sean sat on the couch opposite and pointed at the bottle. "Sharing that, or do I get my own?"
Harry cocked his head as though he was considering it, took another long pull, then offered Sean his bottle. "Guess so. No backwashing though," he warned him, settling in against the couch.
"Oh, as if." Sean took a swig and handed it back, deciding he'd be better off with his own drink. He wandered over to the little bar, poured himself a decent shot and returned, slumping down into the couch and lifting long legs to rest on the seat opposite, feet next to Harry. "So?" he asked. "What's new?"
"Did I tell you that I know who it was almost killed me?" Harry said, taking another drink as soon as he had the bottle in his hand. "It's kind of a funny story... except for how it's really not."
"No, getting stabbed isn't all that funny when it's you, I imagine." Sean took a sip of his drink as well, keeping company with Harry. But only a small sip. "So who was it?" he asked casually.
"Angelina-Cunting-Jolie," Harry answered, raising his bottle in a mock toast. "Ain't that just a kick in the nuts, eh?" he snorted.
Sean's eyebrows shot straight up into his hairline. "Yer shittin' me!" he said as reflex, even though Harry wouldn't. "The woman who . . .?"
"The hellbitch who is pregnant with Marton's baby." Harry finished the sentence, altering the top a little. "Yep, apparently the same day she almost killed me, a bloody miracle took place and a thing who doesn't fuck men got pregnant. Imagine the odds. Lucky for her s'pose," Harry shrugged, his casual posture a direct contrast to the look in his eyes.
"Jeezus." Sean went silent, sipping his drink for real now as his thoughts leapt through a myriad of hoops. "Could she have . . .? I mean, how?" He shrugged his shoulders. "I just assumed she and Marton . . . I never asked. How the hell . . .?" He knew he wasn't making much sense, but he also knew Harry'd follow him and understand what his brain was trying to make sense of!
"Neither did I. And he didn't say. But I don't trust that cunt as far as Elijah can throw my pet rock. I've got no proof, and either way, doesn't matter. Baby's already on it's way." Harry glowered at his bottle, staring at the label to avoid looking at how much he'd drunk. "But she's dangerous. Even now. I underestimated her. Fucked up. Don't want anyone else to." Harry muttered.
"Dangerous?" Sean's eyes narrowed. "Marton? I mean, you told him right? He does know, doesn't he Harry?"
"He knows. I told him. What's he supposed to do, Sean- she's having his bloody kid," Harry growled, his words starting to run together a little.
Oh well, that was something at least. Sean relaxed again, confident that Marton could handle, well, anything. He watched Harry, sensing that there was more than just being pissed off about the woman who'd stabbed him being on the premises and pregnant. "He's doing what he's supposed to do." Sean said. "What about you? What are you supposed to be doing that you're not, Harry? Something's up."
Harry shrugged. "Sean? Marton asked me to keep quiet about what she did, and I agreed if I could tell you and..." Don't think about him "So if you could not tell anyone, that'd be good. It'd only hurt Marton if it got out- everyone thinks Elijah and I don't remember, and that's the way we're keeping it." Harry finished, picking at the label, blinking rapidly as he felt the alcohol hitting him.
If Orlando was a neon sign, he'd be flashing above Harry's head right about now, Sean thought with concern. He was getting mixed messages through his empathic senses, but no matter how scattered, it was all about Orlando. "Yeah, 'course." he said dismissively, "Goes without saying. What's up with you and Orlando, Harry?" Sean asked him flat out. "Is as plain as the nose on your face that summat's wrong."
"Not s'posed to be peeking in here, Sean. Cheating." Harry mumbled, tapping the side of his head with his hand, curling in on himself as his eyes started to close, the bottle held loosely in his free hand.
"I'm not peeking, you're broadcasting." Sean took advantage and reached across the dividing space, pinching the bottle from Harry's hand before he could stop him. "You don't get it back." He told a startled Harry. "Talk."
Harry made a half hearted attempt to grab it back, then slumped back against his side of the couch, lying down on his side and wrapping his arms around himself. "Nothin's up with me'n Orlando. Is no me an' Orlando." Harry said, his eyes drifting shut, his voice almost inaudible. "I left him." he mumbled, then went silent.
~~~~~~
Sean bustled around the suite, making no attempt to be extra quiet but not making excessive noise, either. Harry was still asleep, or passed out, on his couch and Eric was gone again. Sean finished his toast and poured himself another cup of coffee, then an orange juice and a large glass of water as he saw Harry begin to stir. He'd already called Dom and told him he'd be late. Harry's extraordinary statement from last night needed investigation a whole shitload more than the price lists for stationery.
"Buggering shit fuck damn hell god damn it." Harry mumbled, throwing his arm over his eyes to block the light that was trying to kill him. "Why the fuck do I smell coffee?"
"Because some of us humans like it." Sean told him. "If you can get your eyes unglued you'll see juice and a nice big glass of cold water on the coffee table. I've got Detoxal too, but I'm guessing you're punishing yourself, so I left it in the bathroom."
"Sean?" Harry murmured, moving his arm away from his face in confusion and regretting it instantly. "Jesus fucking god," he moaned, forcing himself to sit up and reach for the water, ignoring the mention of the Detoxal.
"Right the first time." Sean bought his coffee with him, not above torturing Harry just a little and sat down next to him, waiting until he'd drained the glass. "Now tell me about leaving Orlando." he said, taking a sip of his drink.
Harry wrinkled his nose at the coffee and looked at Sean in confusion for a moment before reality kicked in, a wave of pain crossing his face. "Oh."
"Yeah, 'oh'." Sean agreed. "About two seconds fore you passed out. Now, I was nice enough not to wake you back up again and demand a bloody answer, mate, but I'm damned if I'm above taking advantage of yer sorry state this morning and getting to the bottom of it. C'mon, Harry. What's happened?"
"There's really not that much to talk about, Sean." Harry reached for the orange juice and looked into the glass, trying to get his stomach to hold still long enough for him to drink it. "He'll be better off without me anyway."
If I had a desk or a wall right-handy, I'd be banging me bloody head on it now, Sean reflected, his face showing nothing of what he was thinking. Instead he said easily, "Oh? Why's that then?"
"Because I was right. I was never the one for him anyway." Harry said bitterly. "He wasted over a year of his life on me, but now he can move on. I should have known better anyway, after last time, but..." Harry sighed and shrugged. "Can't help who you fall in love with, can you?"
"Aaaaand that makes no sense whatsoever." Sean shook his head and got to his feet, picking up Harry's empty water glass as he did so. "You sort it into cohesion and I'll get you some more water." He told him. Which was precisely what he did, taking a short bathroom break as well and wandering back with the refilled glass to find Harry still where he'd left him, staring blindly out the window.
"Now," Sean said, handing Harry the water. "we both know that love is never a waste but other than that, you made no sense at all. Who fell in love? And what's last time got to do with this time?"
"I should have known better then to fall in love with him- if only it worked that way," Harry explained, looking at the water glass, because it was easier then looking at Sean. "But we don't get to decide that- do we? Any more then he could have "decided" that he was in love with James Marsden."
"Orlando's in love with James Marsden?" Sean said slowly. "Not with you?"
Harry shrugged noncommittally, finishing the second glass of water and putting it aside.
"All of a sudden, just like that. Orlando stops loving you and starts loving this James. The friend-guy, James, yeah?" He didn't wait for a response but kept one eye on Harry who'd just been slipped a dose of Detoxal without his knowledge. Sean figured things were hard enough without battling with Hungover Harry. The Detoxal was the tasteless variety and he'd feel better in a couple of minutes. Maybe then he'd start talking sense. "You do realise that's bullshit, don't you?" He asked. "I mean, we both know I'm the King of Ignorance when it comes to relationships, but even I know what crap smells like."
"I didn't say he stopped loving me, Sean. I said he's in love with James. And I know he is because he fucking told me he was, okay?" Harry said, his tone heating up as he woke up more. "He didn't want to tell me either- and you didn't see the look on his face after he said it," he finished, wondering if it was too early in the day to start drinking again.
Sean rolled his eyes but was giving Harry's words some serious thought. He'd known Orlando nearly all his life, knew what kind of kid he was, what kind of man he'd become and shallow was not a word he'd associate with Orlando at all. He wasn't buying this, not for one second, but he had to give it some thought before his brain went 'ping' and the lightbulb came on.
"He thinks he is." Sean said in definite tones. "Harry listen . . . Orlando's young, you're his first true love and he loves you still, you just said so. He's infatuated, that's all and too young to know the difference yet."
Sliding an arm around his friend's shoulders, he pulled him close onto his chest, no longer worried about being thrown-up on and hugged him tight, kissing his hair. "I'm betting you don't believe me and that's okay. Don't expect you to. Neither one of us is real good at this 'love' stuff. But I know I'm right, I just . . . do. Give it time and it'll sort out. Meantime, you need a place to crash, you're welcome here. You know that. Our spare room's yours if you want it."
Harry rested against Sean, his friends words washing over him, none of them penetrating, not enough energy to argue even if they did. "Tired," he mumbled, closing his eyes.
"Back to sleep then." Sean rubbed soothing circles on Harry's back as he felt his body relax against his own. Harry was too upset for rational talk, right now comfort and company was more important and those he could provide. "I'll be here."
