Tommy Shepard (
doubled_speed) wrote in
revivalproject2024-09-28 11:58 am
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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
II. The Terror of Being Known | Closed to 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."
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"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."
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"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."
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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."
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"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."
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"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.
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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.
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"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.
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And he doesn't know what to do with that.
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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."
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"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."
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"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."
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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?"
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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."
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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.
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"Experience, Billy. It's telling me what will happen. What always happens."
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because being seen, it's scary.
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"I'm a mess, Billy. I'm a mess. God, the number of nights I'm waking up lately with my bed shaking from my powers..."
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Stubborn little shit.
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"I..."
He shivers. No, not shivers. Shakes. He's trembling against Billy.
"I'm sorry."
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"Don’t be fucking sorry. You’re allowed to be upset. Here," and he pushes one of the shells he brought with him to Tommy’s hand. "Tell me about this."
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wrap this?
Yeah, sounds good to me <3