Post by Pyro on Oct 18, 2006 16:30:54 GMT
< ”Y’mockin’ me?”
”Only in a warm and loving way, sugah.”
At least that part of the question is easy to answer. The issue of what they do now – which she has somehow managed to displace onto him, canny minx that she is, thanks a lot for that one – is a little more thorny. He can’t really invite her back to his, because there is no *his*, really, it’s *Fred’s* and there’s no way that’ll ever work, nor any way he’s going to risk her finding out exactly what’s going on there. And he can’t go anywhere near hers, since he’s still on the Most Wanted List and doesn’t fancy another taste of the frostbite and concussion special… Seems no matter how close they get to the old days, it’s not ever going to be the same, not really. And there’s a bleak freedom in that, but also a bleaker sense that that freedom is the freedom of looking up at the sky through what used to be your ceiling after the walls collapse.
John shrugs. ”No idea. I’m yours to do with as you please” – and there it is, that spark again, the one that never meant anything except that Bobby might sort-of-disapprove and therefore was exciting as all hell while still safe and comfortable. Now it’s just… cosy. Which is nice, but sort of alien, given that neither of them are cosy little people leading cosy little lives… Still, it doesn’t hurt to pretend once in a while.
”Only in a warm and loving way, sugah.”
At least that part of the question is easy to answer. The issue of what they do now – which she has somehow managed to displace onto him, canny minx that she is, thanks a lot for that one – is a little more thorny. He can’t really invite her back to his, because there is no *his*, really, it’s *Fred’s* and there’s no way that’ll ever work, nor any way he’s going to risk her finding out exactly what’s going on there. And he can’t go anywhere near hers, since he’s still on the Most Wanted List and doesn’t fancy another taste of the frostbite and concussion special… Seems no matter how close they get to the old days, it’s not ever going to be the same, not really. And there’s a bleak freedom in that, but also a bleaker sense that that freedom is the freedom of looking up at the sky through what used to be your ceiling after the walls collapse.
John shrugs. ”No idea. I’m yours to do with as you please” – and there it is, that spark again, the one that never meant anything except that Bobby might sort-of-disapprove and therefore was exciting as all hell while still safe and comfortable. Now it’s just… cosy. Which is nice, but sort of alien, given that neither of them are cosy little people leading cosy little lives… Still, it doesn’t hurt to pretend once in a while.
