revivalproject | Shelter From The Storm

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Shelter From The Storm

WHO: Tommy Shepherd, Dustin, You?
WHERE: The Diner
WHAT: Sheltering from the Blizzard
WHEN: During the Blizzard
WARNINGS: CW: Discussions of accidental explosions

I. Keeping The Food Going

For once there was a proper way for Tommy to distract himself from the madness of the storm. And he always needed the distractions. The storms made him less himself, took away his power, took away his strength. Tommy hated nothing quite like the storms. He'd been hurt so many times during them, been lost, been broken in his heart and mind.

"Here," he says as he whips the space blanket off of his shoulders and draped it over another person's shoulders. "I'm trying to get the fire going to cook. Just, uh, give me more time. I've got some dried meat you could nibble on if you need."

II. Judgements Spoken | CW: Discussions of accidental explosions

It was later in the day and things were settling down when it happened. Tommy finally had an open fire going near one of the vents in the kitchen so people could stay warm. It was sorta cramped staying back there, but they would do what they had to do. But he was getting ready to settle down and then it happened.

A shadowy figure seemed to manifest as Tommy was moving to sit down. One he recognized. A high school aged girl, who looked scared, and unerringly right at Tommy, who paled.

"You're not real," he hissed at the ghostly form. "You're not real. Like all the storm images. Go away!"

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Dustin glances at Tommy for just long enough to pass him a pained expression before his eyes stick to the floor by his feet. "...No, I--"

"--Meant it exactly how you said," Rose continues, heedless of Tommy as she looms over Dustin's head. Or maybe it just seems that way because he's starting to shrink further into himself, ducking his head and hunching his shoulders more and more. "Didn't you? Spiteful little shit. Lucky for you, I couldn't possibly call you my son anymore, not after what you did to me. So I guess you got what you've always wanted."

"Yeah, well then who gives a fuck. Maybe you're a spiteful bitch," Tommy shouts at her. No, this feels too much like his birth mother for him to tolerate it. "Why don't you fuck off. Anyone who dares call their kid 'ungrateful' can bite me. I'll kick your fucking ghost ass!"

In spite of Tommy's quickly mounting anger at the situation, Rose continues to ignore him. Her hard eyes burn holes into the top of Dustin's head as she quivers with rage. She knows he has something to say, and she's waiting for him to spit it out.

"...Tommy," he says quietly. "It's..."

"Go on," Rose's specter urges, her voice tight.

"...She's right, you know?" Dustin murmurs. "I deserve this."

Rose hardly misses a beat. "There we go," she declares with a haughty nod. "What did you say earlier? 'The people you hurt might never forgive you?' Maybe you should have considered that before you stole my work and destroyed my career. Most of that research was older than you are, and you, what? Sold it for bus tickets and gas station sandwiches? Was it worth it? Did you even think about the consequences, even once?"

"Bullshit," Tommy answers, moving through the ghost this time to touch Dustin's shoulder. "I don't care what she thinks of you, or who the hell she thinks she is. You're a kid. I expect you'll get fucking mad for me saying it, but you are. And I was in your fucking situation it sounds like. And I get how fucking hard it is."

He doesn't want to see something of himself in this asshole. But he does anyway.

Dustin flinches from the unexpected touch of Tommy's hand, but he doesn't move away, doesn't get mad. He's too tired to be mad.

"Of course you didn't," Rose continues, even as her form shimmers and fizzles away. "Shame on me, for trusting a child as much as I did. I should have known better."

Dustin doesn't say anything at first, just letting Rose's words linger in the empty air while he simmers in his own guilt. She's right, again. He'd thought about the consequences insomuch as he wanted the research she was doing to stop, but never once had he thought about how that would affect her job, her life. He hadn't wanted to. It was so much easier, just to keep his bitter memories to himself and leave that part of his world behind.

Eventually, Dustin finds his voice again. "...So, what?" he mutters. "I'm supposed to use that as an excuse? Like, because I'm immature, the fact that I wanted to hurt someone and succeeded at it is okay?"

"Bitch," Tommy grumbles under his breath. His attention is on Dustin now, because it's more important.

"No, not an excuse. We don't make excuses, you and me. They don't justify things. But we can explain why we are the way we are. And accept that we can change."

IT had been a struggle for Tommy, but he'd gotten there long ago.

For a moment, it seems like Dustin will accept that reasoning. I can be better, he thinks. I can...

But then, without Rose's face glowering at him to activate that part of his brain that cares about being accepted by his mother, Dustin remembers why he was so upset. She deserved this.

He huffs a derisive laugh. "...No," Dustin says bitterly. "I don't think I can. I would do it again, actually. Can't believe she..."

The boy shakes his head, dragging a hand through his hair.

"...Can't believe it got to me," he grumbles. "Fuckin' storms. Hate this place sometimes."

"I hate it all the time," Tommy countered. And with Dustin feeling better, well, Tommy can get back to busying himself to try and ignore his own melancholy.

That gets an actual bark of laughter out of Dustin, followed by a series of haggard-sounding coughs.

"Shit," he wheezes. "Okay yeah, agreed. Fuck this place."

Dustin sits back down by the fire, letting Tommy go about whatever business he needs while he continues trying to warm up. The wry smirk on his face fades quickly when Tommy leaves his field of view; the brief injection of cynical humor might have temporarily helped his mood, but he can't stop thinking about both of their specters, and how viciously both he and Tommy reacted to them. His feelings are Complicated and Dustin doesn't like that.

Luckily, they'll have plenty of time to explore those emotions over the next few days of isolation and repeated psychological torment. Should be fun!

They will, and Tommy... Well, he was going to watch over Dustin. Dealing with his own trauma was hard. Trying to support someone else who was hurting? That was more in his wheelhouse.

"Going to make us soup," he says as he moves away. "We could use it."

Getting Dustin to admit that he's hurting in the first place is a very tall Step One. He's not even quite ready to admit that he's getting sick, which is why he doesn't just let Tommy make that soup in peace.

"I can help," Dustin offers, his voice a hoarse croak as he tries to project it into the kitchen. Anything to keep me busy. Idleness has always been an enemy, and that hasn't changed with his powers suppressed. "I'll get some water boiling."

Dude, just let him handle this.

"You might be able to, that doesn't mean you should," Tommy points out, rolling his eyes.

"I need to get a fire started first."

Edited 2023-03-12 16:53 (UTC)

Dustin huffs, openly indignant. "You saying I can't? Just because--"

I don't have my powers anymore, he almost says, but cuts himself off with a heavy frown and a crinkle of his brow. Tommy knows he has abilities at this point, obviously, but years of self-censorship make broaching the topic feel weird anyway.

"--I-I'm not incapable," he stammers instead. "I know how to start a fucking cooking fire."

"I'm saying I've got a fuck ton more experience doing it in the storms than you do," TOmmy points out. "Been here years, Dustin."

"I know," Dustin insists, his indignance quickly giving way to annoyed agitation. "I'm not arguing efficiency here, I'm--I just can't sit around with my thumb up my ass, waiting. I've gotta do something."

Okay, that's...

"Your hands stable enough for chopping right now?"

"Sure," Dustin says. He is, naturally, totally oblivious to any kind of common ground he might be standing on with Tommy at the moment. "Cutting up vegetables doesn't take a fucking rocket scientist, I can do that."

"No, it doesn't, but people can have conditions," Tommy points out before going back to his work. "You know where we keep things stored here?"

Dustin's face screws up in a frustrated scowl, his fists clenching at his sides, but he just about manages to stop himself from completely losing his temper. He's trying to be helpful, he has to remind himself. Don't need to bite his head off for that.

Although, with how strained his voice ends up being, it sounds like he might. "Yes," Dustin hisses through his gritted teeth. "I haven't forgotten."

Before he has a chance to actually blow up, the boy storms past Tommy towards the pantry.

Dude, he didn't even know how familiar Dustin was with the place. Some people didn't remember after one or two passes in a place.

"Cool. I'll write down what I need," he says, because it's going to be a lot of stuff.

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Shelter From The Storm

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