Sergio stretched his lithe body as his mind slowly clawed its way to full consciousness, delicious little tingles sparking across his skin as relief came to some of his more sore joints and muscles. A fully lucid Pacer taking him to bed had a manner of leaving him like this.
He rolled onto his back and the lack of warmth beside him shot an instant ache straight to his gut. Not even fully awake and he was already disappointed. Wasn't this going to be a fun day. He dragged a hand through his unruly bedhead and took a deep breath, not yet ready to scold himself for letting some of his old idealism take the wheel. But as awareness began piercing his slowly dispersing haze of grogginess, he noticed a solid weight at the foot of the bed. "Noticed" meaning "accidentally kicked at".
He looked up, saw Pacer sitting on the edge of the bed, looking back at him and then away, exhaling sharply. "This is some powerful shit, man," he said under his breath.
Sergio sat up, and wow it was way too early to feel fresh outrage curling inside of him. "Seriously? You couldn't even wait until I was out of your bed to get high? Where did you even get more Jet?"
"Not Jet," Pacer said, and he suddenly lurched like he'd been hit with a wave of powerful nausea. "You sure that was Fixer? Sure Dr. Farkas didn't just give you poison?"
Sergio moved to the foot of the bed, sheets pooling around his waist, and leaned against Pacer's back. "It's a side effect of your system being flushed. Means it's working."
"Shit, it's the worst."
Sergio rubbed at his arm soothingly. "I know, sugar, but when it's done it's done."
The two sat together quietly as Pacer rode out the nasty process, Sergio resting his head against his shoulder and lightly stroking his arm. After a while, Pacer sucked in a deep breath. "Think that was the last one," he sighed.
Sergio tucked his head down, forehead pressed against Pacer's back. "Thank you for taking it," he said softly.
He felt Pacer shifting, and looked up to meet his face as he turned on the bed. He had almost forgotten what those eyes could do to him when they were sober, the way they could steal his breath when they were looking at him for real. What got him in this beautiful mess in the first place. Pacer reached out to thread a hand in his hair, leaned in to kiss him slow and soft, with a tenderness Sergio wouldn't have even imagined he possessed. "It's bullshit, you havin' to thank me for manning up," Pacer muttered when he broke the kiss.
Something about being kissed like that while his body still wore the marks of the previous night's escapades had made Sergio's heart beat a little faster, but he was always good at thinking on his feet, even if his mind was being derailed. "Call it whatever you want, I'm just grateful that you took it. Crossing my fingers that it lasts."
Pacer looked down, shook his head. "You shouldn't have to be grateful when the jackass you're with does the right thing for a change."
This was definitely unfamiliar territory, some wild emotional frontier and Sergio's natural instinct was to defuse it. "Well, technically," he said, "I'm not with you, remember?"
He had forced a lightness to his tone but Pacer was still heavy, in the way he looked at him, in the way he spoke. "I know," he said. "I want that to change. I want a lot of things to change."
He gave a sort of helpless gesture, then sighed heavily, leaning in and resting his head on Sergio's collarbone. Sergio's fingers instinctively went to thread through his hair. "I'm so goddamn tired," Pacer said quietly against his skin. "I'm so tired of being angry all the time. Everything about my turf is changing and no matter what I do, it just keeps changing."
Sergio made a soft noise of understanding. "You can only wave your arms at a bear to make it leave so many times before it just gets wise and eats you. I hate how Freeside has changed too, you know."
"How in the hell do you handle it? How are you so happy all the time?"
Sergio gave a mirthless laugh. "What gave you the impression I was happy? I'm just as miserable as anyone else here."
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timeasmymeasure
Pacer/Sergio - Wild For You [5.2/5 - The Ending Sergio Deserves]
Date: 2011-11-19 09:08 am (UTC)He rolled onto his back and the lack of warmth beside him shot an instant ache straight to his gut. Not even fully awake and he was already disappointed. Wasn't this going to be a fun day. He dragged a hand through his unruly bedhead and took a deep breath, not yet ready to scold himself for letting some of his old idealism take the wheel. But as awareness began piercing his slowly dispersing haze of grogginess, he noticed a solid weight at the foot of the bed. "Noticed" meaning "accidentally kicked at".
He looked up, saw Pacer sitting on the edge of the bed, looking back at him and then away, exhaling sharply. "This is some powerful shit, man," he said under his breath.
Sergio sat up, and wow it was way too early to feel fresh outrage curling inside of him. "Seriously? You couldn't even wait until I was out of your bed to get high? Where did you even get more Jet?"
"Not Jet," Pacer said, and he suddenly lurched like he'd been hit with a wave of powerful nausea. "You sure that was Fixer? Sure Dr. Farkas didn't just give you poison?"
Sergio moved to the foot of the bed, sheets pooling around his waist, and leaned against Pacer's back. "It's a side effect of your system being flushed. Means it's working."
"Shit, it's the worst."
Sergio rubbed at his arm soothingly. "I know, sugar, but when it's done it's done."
The two sat together quietly as Pacer rode out the nasty process, Sergio resting his head against his shoulder and lightly stroking his arm. After a while, Pacer sucked in a deep breath. "Think that was the last one," he sighed.
Sergio tucked his head down, forehead pressed against Pacer's back. "Thank you for taking it," he said softly.
He felt Pacer shifting, and looked up to meet his face as he turned on the bed. He had almost forgotten what those eyes could do to him when they were sober, the way they could steal his breath when they were looking at him for real. What got him in this beautiful mess in the first place. Pacer reached out to thread a hand in his hair, leaned in to kiss him slow and soft, with a tenderness Sergio wouldn't have even imagined he possessed. "It's bullshit, you havin' to thank me for manning up," Pacer muttered when he broke the kiss.
Something about being kissed like that while his body still wore the marks of the previous night's escapades had made Sergio's heart beat a little faster, but he was always good at thinking on his feet, even if his mind was being derailed. "Call it whatever you want, I'm just grateful that you took it. Crossing my fingers that it lasts."
Pacer looked down, shook his head. "You shouldn't have to be grateful when the jackass you're with does the right thing for a change."
This was definitely unfamiliar territory, some wild emotional frontier and Sergio's natural instinct was to defuse it. "Well, technically," he said, "I'm not with you, remember?"
He had forced a lightness to his tone but Pacer was still heavy, in the way he looked at him, in the way he spoke. "I know," he said. "I want that to change. I want a lot of things to change."
He gave a sort of helpless gesture, then sighed heavily, leaning in and resting his head on Sergio's collarbone. Sergio's fingers instinctively went to thread through his hair. "I'm so goddamn tired," Pacer said quietly against his skin. "I'm so tired of being angry all the time. Everything about my turf is changing and no matter what I do, it just keeps changing."
Sergio made a soft noise of understanding. "You can only wave your arms at a bear to make it leave so many times before it just gets wise and eats you. I hate how Freeside has changed too, you know."
"How in the hell do you handle it? How are you so happy all the time?"
Sergio gave a mirthless laugh. "What gave you the impression I was happy? I'm just as miserable as anyone else here."