finally_ahead (
finally_ahead) wrote2021-10-27 07:27 pm
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[fraser]
The night stretches on, bloody and claustrophobic, and awful. When the morning comes and they get out, when there's been reunions and a hospital trip, time moves double. Even the waiting, when it comes, flies by, and that might be for a dozen different reasons.
And maybe Stan's too tired to be as deeply re-traumatized as he ought to be, or comfortably numb, but he thinks it's just as likely that it's the same reason he makes sure that as the last of it winds down, he makes sure that he's next to Fraser.
"Hey," he says quietly, nudging Fraser a bit further from any lingering group, "don't go back to the Home. Come back with me. We'll make someone talk to them. I mean, if you-- you shouldn't have to go back alone. We can do sleeping bags or," and God, would he be any better at talking if he were less tired? He'd like to think so. "I'd feel better about going to sleep if I knew you were there."
And maybe Stan's too tired to be as deeply re-traumatized as he ought to be, or comfortably numb, but he thinks it's just as likely that it's the same reason he makes sure that as the last of it winds down, he makes sure that he's next to Fraser.
"Hey," he says quietly, nudging Fraser a bit further from any lingering group, "don't go back to the Home. Come back with me. We'll make someone talk to them. I mean, if you-- you shouldn't have to go back alone. We can do sleeping bags or," and God, would he be any better at talking if he were less tired? He'd like to think so. "I'd feel better about going to sleep if I knew you were there."
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"I don't care where they think I am. I'm already late anyway," he said, shrugged. Exhausted as he was, his heart stuttered at Stan's request. "We can do sleeping bags."
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So he thinks about something else instead, which happens to be pretty easy to do-- anything thinking capacity that hasn't been focused on survival has been completely caught up in Fraser, in what he's allowed before it becomes too much. Stan's always been slower to act, considering the fallout, and while the decision to kiss Fraser right then had been on impulse, the larger decision has been made for a while now.
"Not sure if Bill or Richie's coming, but we should get to leave soon."
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Or maybe he was just tired.
"Can't we go? I mean, now. We could get a cab or something."
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"I forgot about cabs," he says, determinedly reaching for Fraser's hands. "Yeah, let's do that."
In the dark of the store, covered in blood, he'd reached out for Fraser, and he doesn't plan to let go now, not if he can help it. "Can you-- I'll let everyone know what we're doing."
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Shuffling closer, he jostled into Stan's side, ducking to rest his cheek on the other boy's shoulder.
"Do you think El's okay? She seemed pretty upset."
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Stan's own fingers move along the screen of his phone, sending texts. "I'll tell her that we'll come find her as soon as we get some sleep."
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"I smell," he observed, nose wrinkling. "Like rat shit. I'm never going back to a Törgt again."
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And then he blinks, slightly aghast.
"Do you think I'm fired?"
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At least not for a few weeks.
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He's utterly, deeply grateful when the cab actually arrives and he can pile in the back with Fraser for the ride home. The driver looks at them oddly, but Stan guesses the guy has seen worse, as they leave without issue. He watches the streets move by, staring blearily out the window.