Pacer felt like some kind of caged animal, and his leash just got a good tightening. The worst part was how the King talked to him like he was goddamn child, instead of the last man who remembered his real name. But he just sat and listened at his best friend regurgitated the bullshit his new girlfriend had fed him. Pacer didn't even know why he'd agreed to play nice anymore. Maybe he was just that fuckin' tired. Maybe he was getting old.
He had too much nervous energy and no squatters left to take it out on, and wandering the streets would provide too much temptation. Naw, by Pacer's count he was long overdue for an escape. He shoved his way up the stairs and had slammed the door to his room behind him when he registered Sergio there.
Sergio flinched just a little at the sudden slam but otherwise looked unbothered, standing up from where he had been crouching near Pacer's bed and crossing his arms over his chest. He quirked an eyebrow at him and said, "Wow. So that's what your hair looks like after a week with no maintenance. God, I really am vital here."
Pacer silently damned the little tug he'd gotten in his belly when he's saw Sergio near his bed, when he realized this was the first time they'd been alone since that fight. He smoothed a hand over his hair and said, "What can I say, Gloria likes to pull on it while I go down on her. S'hard to get it just right after that."
The flash of hurt in Sergio's eyes was so quick and so completely covered that Pacer thought he might have imagined it, but he still counted it as a victory. "So," he said. "Why the fuck are you in my room? If you're looking for forgiveness you should've started on yer knees."
Sergio's eyes went hard and he remained perfectly still. "Forgiveness?" he repeated. "Why would I be here for forgiveness?"
"For abandoning me, maybe?"
Sergio sighed harshly and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "You giant goddamn baby, I swear to god--"
"For siding with that NCR bitch instead of me, the guy you've known for years?"
"Okay, first of all," Sergio snapped, looking him dead in the eyes and damn near knocking him back with how fierce he suddenly looked, "I did not 'side with that NCR bitch', you ass. She can rot for all I care, I sided with you not getting yourself killed, and not being an asshole to your best friend. So tell me again how I need to get on my knees and suck my way back into your good graces."
Something hot and sharp always seemed to lance right through Pacer whenever Sergio got like this. Everyone else in the School -- hell, in Freeside -- acted like they knew the hierarchy, treated him like the King's second-in-command. This little punk never did. Never had. "Howsabout you get out of here," he snarled, stomping over to his bed and looking past Sergio.
Sergio took a deep breath and shrugged lightly. "Fine. That's how you're gonna be, I'm gone."
Sergio hadn't reached the door when Pacer looked down and realized, "Were you messing with my stash?"
Anger flared inside him when Sergio turned around to face him, his hand resting on the doorknob. "It's not your stash anymore." Pacer crouched and opened the metal box to find all his Jet gone, a handful of doses of Fixer in its place. "I sold it," Sergio said casually, like he was discussing the weather. "Used the money to buy you some Fixer from the Followers and donated the rest. Told Dixon that if he sold to you ever again I would sneak into his home at night and sodomize him."
Pacer/Sergio -- Wild For You [2a/?]
Pacer felt like some kind of caged animal, and his leash just got a good tightening. The worst part was how the King talked to him like he was goddamn child, instead of the last man who remembered his real name. But he just sat and listened at his best friend regurgitated the bullshit his new girlfriend had fed him. Pacer didn't even know why he'd agreed to play nice anymore. Maybe he was just that fuckin' tired. Maybe he was getting old.
He had too much nervous energy and no squatters left to take it out on, and wandering the streets would provide too much temptation. Naw, by Pacer's count he was long overdue for an escape. He shoved his way up the stairs and had slammed the door to his room behind him when he registered Sergio there.
Sergio flinched just a little at the sudden slam but otherwise looked unbothered, standing up from where he had been crouching near Pacer's bed and crossing his arms over his chest. He quirked an eyebrow at him and said, "Wow. So that's what your hair looks like after a week with no maintenance. God, I really am vital here."
Pacer silently damned the little tug he'd gotten in his belly when he's saw Sergio near his bed, when he realized this was the first time they'd been alone since that fight. He smoothed a hand over his hair and said, "What can I say, Gloria likes to pull on it while I go down on her. S'hard to get it just right after that."
The flash of hurt in Sergio's eyes was so quick and so completely covered that Pacer thought he might have imagined it, but he still counted it as a victory. "So," he said. "Why the fuck are you in my room? If you're looking for forgiveness you should've started on yer knees."
Sergio's eyes went hard and he remained perfectly still. "Forgiveness?" he repeated. "Why would I be here for forgiveness?"
"For abandoning me, maybe?"
Sergio sighed harshly and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "You giant goddamn baby, I swear to god--"
"For siding with that NCR bitch instead of me, the guy you've known for years?"
"Okay, first of all," Sergio snapped, looking him dead in the eyes and damn near knocking him back with how fierce he suddenly looked, "I did not 'side with that NCR bitch', you ass. She can rot for all I care, I sided with you not getting yourself killed, and not being an asshole to your best friend. So tell me again how I need to get on my knees and suck my way back into your good graces."
Something hot and sharp always seemed to lance right through Pacer whenever Sergio got like this. Everyone else in the School -- hell, in Freeside -- acted like they knew the hierarchy, treated him like the King's second-in-command. This little punk never did. Never had. "Howsabout you get out of here," he snarled, stomping over to his bed and looking past Sergio.
Sergio took a deep breath and shrugged lightly. "Fine. That's how you're gonna be, I'm gone."
Sergio hadn't reached the door when Pacer looked down and realized, "Were you messing with my stash?"
Anger flared inside him when Sergio turned around to face him, his hand resting on the doorknob. "It's not your stash anymore." Pacer crouched and opened the metal box to find all his Jet gone, a handful of doses of Fixer in its place. "I sold it," Sergio said casually, like he was discussing the weather. "Used the money to buy you some Fixer from the Followers and donated the rest. Told Dixon that if he sold to you ever again I would sneak into his home at night and sodomize him."