revivalproject | This Is How We Get Along

Entry tags:

This Is How We Get Along

WHO: Tommy Shepherd, Tony Stark, Billy Hargrove
WHERE: Tony's Workshop, Tommy's Room in Avengers HQ
WHAT: Trying to figure out a gift; emotional vulnerability
WHEN: Late September, Early October
WARNINGS: To Be Added in the Billy Hargrove Thread

I. What Do You Get For A Surfer Dude? | Closed to Tony

The thing about Tommy was that he was kind of shit about asking for help when he needed it for himself. Things that would benefit him, or make his life better, or help him deal with his shit. It wasn't something he did. Which always made him showing up to ask for it harder.

So yeah, his showing up (after a good bit of searching) at Tony's workshop door, knocking lightly as he did so, was odd. Him looking nervous was probably less so. He was, after all, trying to heal what he thought was some damage between them due to his own actions. But this wasn't about any of that. This was about asking for help. And fuck if he wasn't shit at that.

II. The Terror of Being Known | Closed to Billy Hargrove

Between them they have so many places to withdraw to. The shack on the beach, the apartment above the diner, the rooms taken up by Billy for his winter in the Civics Center. And here. The place Billy is getting to see for the first time while he comes help Tommy make the place more homey.

A room in the established Avengers HQ. A place shared with Steve Rogers and Janet Van Dyne and probably others. A place that was more plain than the efforts he had taken with the diner's space. Which was supposed to change today. That was absolutely the plan.

A plan that was being foiled by the frustrated noise as Tommy tried, once again, to get a table to sit level. He'd been trying to shim this thing for ten minutes now. Ten minutes for someone like Billy. A lot more than that for Tommy. It was a frustration so deep that he finally did something stupid. He kicked a leg of it in frustration. And with speed. Too much speed. The metal leg bent from the force, dumping the table and the box of tools and decorations that had been sitting on it to the floor.

Which in turn only amped Tommy's bad mood up further, leaving him fuming in particular down at a small, potted plant that clearly had a damaged pot now. Something that was going to take repotting.

"Fucking hell."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Billy… Billy has no idea what to do for a spiral. A spiral not really aimed at him like Neil would do with his anger. They hadn’t gone over dealing with other people’s anger in his lessons with Gladio, really only his own.

So Tommy’s anger starts stirring up his own, though Billy tries to keep it in check.

"It was just a fucking accident, Shepherd!" Oops, a little bit of a raised voice. "Who cares if you did it when it was an accident?! We’ll ask Kaplan to fix it, or I’ll ask him!"

He cares. He cares. So much.

"I care. Because of all the parents I was given, he was the only one that loved me. The only one that wanted me. The only one that ever celebrated my birthday!"

So to him it's not an accident. It's failing the only person that cared.

He knows that Tommy has a depth of care that goes even deeper than that lake in the city. Billy has seen it towards himself and others. Reaching out, the blond grabs the speedster by the shoulders.

"I get it," Billy says with tightness in his voice. "It’s special, I get it. It’s still an accident. Did you kick the fucking painting? No, you kicked the table. You can go find a different one and I’ll take the painting for Kaplan to get it fixed. That’s what you do with accidents right? You fix them, you don’t just yell at them and hope it does it itself!"

Though he’d be a hypocrite if he had done the same thing to the vase of shells. The Californian would be just as mad and yelling.

The problem with growing up in a household like Tommy had was that the way accidents were normally addressed was with yelling. Usually at him. And while he'd gotten better at not doing that, this was absolutely some old ass form of mirroring going on.

"I know my powers," Tommy snaps, but he doesn't pull away. "I know what I fucking am. A fucking speedy freak that can break just about anything even if I don't mean to. I shouldn't have kicked the table! I should have known better!"

So yeah, still upset.

The snapping rules Billy up more, and his hands grip onto those shoulders hard before giving him a shake. This wasn’t good. None of it was. Billy’s anger was feeding from Tommy’s and both of them were going to spiral like this. "Don’t snap at me when I’m trying to fucking help!"

Another shake. "But you still have fucking emotions, right? You’re not allowed to fuck up?! To have accidents, Shepherd?! Just because you’re damn superhero doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to fuck something up every now and again!"

"Because my mistakes can kill people. Easily!"

And that's what it comes down to, isn't it? His mistakes can kill people so much easier than other people can accidentally kill someone. His mistakes can blow up buildings. His mistakes destroy lives on an impossible level.

His mistakes leave barely any body.

"Because," he says, his voice falling low and shameful, "because my powers make my fuck ups disaster areas."

"So can mine!" Billy, stop yelling. "I could kill people with an accidental swing of my axe, I almost hit kids with my car years ago in Hawkins!" Billy knows that Tommy’s powers make his accidents exponentially more dangerous. If those powers had been used to hurt him after Kaplan‘s attack, no doubt Hargrove would be as dead as he is back home.

The tone Tommy uses indicates he’s backing down, but Billy’s too riled up now to meet him at that level. "Just because you’re a supposed freak doesn’t mean you have to be perfect all the fucking time!"

Billy turns white. The word he was told not to call Tommy, to not use towards him, had come out of his mouth before he could think about it. Before his tongue could rein in what couldn’t take back.

Shit.

"Not as easily as I can, Billy. Not even remotely as easily," Tommy answered. Because the axe takes time, and force. But Tommy can do it by just forgetting how fast he's moving. By letting his explosions get away from him. By losing control.

"I AM a freak, Billy. Not a supposed freak. A fucking freak. I blew up my high school. Someone fucking DIED! I have to be perfect all the time or people get hurt. Or people look at people like me and villainize us. Mutants always have to be perfect or we're hurting each other!"

This time the word isn't being held against Billy. But only because Tommy's already feeling it. Already thinking it. Already labeling himself with it.

He's waiting for the speedster to be taken aback by the word. to turn and leave like he had last time - so long ago on the beach. It had been the last time Billy had ever called Tommy that word. It takes long enough for the blond to get his voice back that his boyfriend can keep speaking, which is all... true, but Billy knows better.

"You don't! You don't have to be perfect all the time because you're not! No one is, and no one here is gonna villainize you for it and if they do, they can answer to me. If I'm not gonna villainize your brother for the shit he did to me, I'm sure no one's gonna do it to you for the painting!"

He realizes he's holding too tightly. If this had happened during a storm, no doubt he would've broken Tommy's arms with his grip. Slowly he loosens that grip and moves his hands up to his partner's face. Breath in. Breath out. When he speaks, he's trying to keep from yelling. "Look at me, Shepherd. Look at me. You're allowed to be imperfect sometimes, okay? And look, you hurt the table. Not someone else, you didn't take it out on me or anyone else in this building. Just a table."

It is just a table, this time. And it hurts to know how close it could be. How when he loses control there are explosions.

"You don't get it," Tommy says, his voice shaking. "I ruin the things I touch. I ruined this. It's always only a matter of time."

"I don't," he says, biting only a little. Blue eyes search green. "But you didn't ruin things. Ruin means you can't fucking fix them anymore. Frank and Mary ruin things. Neil ruins things. Tommy Shepherd doesn't. He fixes things, makes them better than what they were before."

He thought of himself with that. How Tommy had a hand in helping Billy become better, along with everyone else he encountered. "You do things like that pottery shit you told me about once. Gold in the cracks. You don't ruin shit, Shepherd."

Gold in the cracks? Oh. He doesn't know that he agrees. At all. Because of course he is upset over that. And that drives him up the wall.

"How did I fix my school, Billy? How did I fix the people I hurt? I don't fix things. I just... I hold them together just long enough for them to fix themselves."

Stubborn. Is this what it was like for others talking to him when he was angry? Maybe he and Tommy really were two sides of the same coin. "I don't know, I wasn't there, Tommy," with more of that bite in his tone. Don't rise to meet Tommy's, don't do that. Might make it worse again.

"You do fix things. Don't try to sell me that shit." His grip has tightened again, so Billy loosens it. "Tommy. What's actually wrong? There's something and it's not just the table or painting, is it?" Could Billy help fix this for Tommy? Or at least get him to listen to the reasoning he was trying to provide? Maybe he just needed to let Tommy ride out this anger, but Billy wouldn't be able to stay if he did that.

They were absolutely two sides of one coin. Tommy thought he'd made that point a while ago. That he was helping Billy at first because he saw them as that.

But the guy is so smart. Smart enough. And Tommy bites his lip because... Because he's trying to not cry. It is about the painting, but it's about other things too. It's about so many things that hurt. And he backs up. Just a bit.

Wraps his arms around himself and starts to pace.

The moment Tommy backs up, Billy follows with his hand going to his partner's forearm to grab. Maybe too hard at first, but then he softens the grip.

"Don't," Billy whispers as he watches Tommy with his blue eyes seemingly blazing. The speedster slips through his loosened grip and he starts pacing and the Californian lets him. "Don't pull away from me, babe. I just want to help." He wants to help make this better, even if he doesn't know how.

"You can't make my mind stop doing this," Tommy says. "Because you'll leave. You're going to get bored. People get bored of me. Tired of me. I'm annoying. I break everything I touch. Even the relationships."

And he doesn't know what to do with that.

What? What the hell was Tommy even talking about? Boots thump the floor as he crosses over to his boyfriend, grabbing him again by the arm. This time holds him to keep him from slipping away. "Don't you dare tell me what I'm going to do. If I was going to get bored, I would've done so by now and been gone."

Billy swallows hard. "You listen to me right now. I'm not people, Tommy Shepherd. I'm Billy fucking Hargrove who has a speedster for a boyfriend who isn't fucking annoying to me. You want annoying? Go talk to Munson during his board game shit. I'm not bored of you, and I'm not tired. I want to help you fix this because I don't like seeing you hurt like this. If I didn't, I would've already left."

Hey, he's absolutely talked to Munson about his board game shit. He might even enjoy that himself. But hasn't really chased it.

"Everyone leaves," Tommy insists, even as there are tears in his eyes. "I can't... I keep dreaming it. I can't sleep at night because you do what people always do."

Oh those are definitely tears. It hurts, even if he didn't cause them. Tommy's brain did. The grip he has on that arm is used to pull them together, with the grip dropping so he can put his arms around the guy instead. "Shut up. I'm not planning on leaving any time soon. I don't know what I do that others do, but I think this has just garnered you more boyfriend sleepovers."

Arms around him. A shelter that seems unreal. Impossible. It doesn't belong here.

"Everyone leaves," he insists, his voice weak and wavering. "My own parents abandoned me. Both sets. God, it's just something I'm made for. The universe wanted and needed my brother to exist, and my mom just wanted someone there to protect him. That's all I'm meant as. Born to be his bodyguard."

"Not me," comes the pushback. He holds Tommy as tight as he dares, not wanting him to think it'd be easy to get away. "Your parents are pieces of shit. They're right there with Neil. You be the bodyguard for Billy Kaplan, I'll be the bodyguard for you."

Billy pulls back enough to look at Tommy. "Look at me, Tommy." Reaches up to rub his thumb against that cheek. "I told you, awhile back that Temba was supposed to be my miracle. It isn't. You are, okay? And if you think I'm leaving my miracle behind, you're crazy enough to give Harrington a run for his money."

He thinks for a moment. "Also, maybe the one parent of yours that wasn't shit is... what his name? Vizh?"

Billy doesn't even want Tommy to protect him. He failed at his created purpose, he knows it. And so he wasn't shocked he was gotten rid of. But before he can say that this Billy is pulling him closer, touching him gently.

Really, he could argue about being someone's miracle. Because his birth was fucking messed up and weird and some people could argue his existence would fall into that weird realm. Tommy wouldn't. Too used to magic. But damn, Billy's saying good things.

"Vizh. Vision. But not my Vision. Not the one back home. One from, I think, Soldier's universe. He... He wasn't my real parent, either one of my 'real' fathers."

"And? Who cares if he was really a parent? You see him as one, that's all that matters. A parent should be someone that raises you and you look up to them because they're good." That thumb starts up a rhythm of gently rubbing back and forth. He's your parent, I'm your boyfriend, and you're mine. This is one of those bad brain things, right? Keeps telling you lies even though I'm telling you the truth?"

Billy doesn't get it but he does a little bit. Whatever, he's trying. Mental health isn't a thing yet in his era.

"Truth is pretty fucking subjective," Tommy grumbles. But he's closing his eyes and leaning into the touch. Because it feels so good. And feels comforting.

"Experience, Billy. It's telling me what will happen. What always happens."

There he is. Billy doesn't let up the touch, keeping his boyfriend in his arms. "Baby, this is your first experience with me. Do you think I'm lying when I say I'm not going to leave you? The night you had to leave because you were afraid of your powers coming back to hurt me, I hated it. I didn't want you to leave even if it was to protect me. I wanted you right back in bed even though I was asleep when you left."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject