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Judgement calls [Beau x Will]

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Offline Beejoux

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Judgement calls [Beau x Will]
« on: January 11, 2020, 02:45:17 PM »
Will knew that taking Beau out of his parent's care was a risk.  He'd known it when he'd left his office to go talk to his supervisor, and even if the other man had signed off on it, he hadn't been happy about it.  He'd honestly expected to have gotten some sort of earful over it by now, but if the Eastofts didn't have his number, or had been content to holler at the rookie at the front desk instead...well, who knew what their motives were.  They made very little sense to Will.

He took a seat on a lounge on the small back patio, and dialed, tucking the phone up to his ear as he slouched down comfortably to listen to it ring.



It wasn't a house line -- of course it wasn't a house line. Instead someone picked up on the other end in a professionally female voice. "Eastoft and Stone, may I help you?"



His brows arched as he listened, surprised for a moment before he recovered.  "Hello, this is officer William Shepard.  I need to speak with Mr. Eastoft concerning a matter with his son."  Vague, but on the off chance the receptionist wasn't quite in the know he didn't want to over explain.



She hesitated just a breath, thinking it over -- checking something, maybe, it was hard to tell -- and then she answered, "Can you please leave your number and I'll let him know when he's out of meetings."



He grimaced just faintly but gave her his number with only a very faint sigh.



She took it very primly, professionally, and let him go to stew it over just a bit -- twenty minutes, maybe.



Impossible to know if Eastoft was actually in a meeting, or if he was just flexing his power, but Will was annoyed with the wait either way.  He stayed in the lounge with his head tipped back against the cushion and one hand laying on his stomach with two fingertips tucked just under the waist of his pants, scrolling absently through something or other on his phone.



Twenty five minutes, then, and the number would ring as private.



Another grimace, lip curling up on one side, but his voice was professional and pleasant as he answered the phone.  "Officer Shepard speaking."



"Officer Sheperd." The voice was smooth and casual, with only a little hiccup before: maybe the secretary hadn't quite passed that tidbit along. "Montgomery Eastoft."



"Good afternoon Mr Eastoft, my apologies for disturbing your work day."  It was polite and pleasant and betrayed none of the disdain Will actually felt for the man.



"I have half an hour." Which was like forgiveness, kind of. He breathed out. "What is happening?"



"Did they fill you in at all when you called the station yesterday, sir?  I'd hate to waste your time more than necessary with repeating things you already know."  He tapped his thumb against his stomach idly.



"He's been taken into custody, which seems extreme to him." It was what he'd heard, whether it was what they said or not.



"He failed his parole check-in yesterday afternoon, Sir."  Extreme?  Hardly.  "As well as made concerning and self destructive comments.  After consulting with my lieutenant on the matter, and keeping discretion in mind, of course, it was decided he should be placed under supervised care."



"He was under supervised care." He said it mildly, absently -- like his attention was wandering. "But if you were concerned, we could have hired a live in."



"There's still the matter of the parole violations, sir."  He closed his eyes, frowning.



"If your magic hadn't been quite so thorough I could have handled that as well." He said it with a certain amount of disdain.



Something about the statement or the tone made Will bristle.  He opened his mouth, bit back whatever unhelpful thing he wanted to say, and reached for calm.  "Be that as it may, sir.  There was a violation, and action has been taken accordingly."



"And the action was to take my son and put him where exactly?"  This was going on too long; Will could practically hear him looking at the clock.



"A protected house, under my supervision."  The man's tone was making it hard to keep the pleasant drawl in his voice as their conversation carried on.



"For how long?" Each word was said carefully, now, like Will was difficult to get through to.



"That depends on how future check-ins go."  He couldn't give a frame of time beyond that.



"Mr. Shepard." There was that edge to his voice again; a little condescending, a bit peeved. "You've already crippled him. This really seems above and beyond."



"All due respects, Sir."  He didn't respond to that edge.  Stayed polite and pleasant despite it.  "After this infraction he should have been looking at jail time, but compromises are being made."



"I definitely don't see how jail is an appropriate punishment, when you've already done far worse." His tone didn't settle, calm down.



"Because there are consequences to actions, sir."  There was something to his tone, something that leaked through around the edges, that suggested he shouldn't have had to point this out.  "He's safe, he's not being ill treated, and aside from a small handful of agents with border patrol, his whereabouts are being kept quiet."



"From everyone, apparently. Including me." Which was afronted and sharp. "My own son."



"We do not just give out the addresses to private residences, sir."  He really didn't want to just hand that over.  "But if you would like to speak with your son later I would be more than happy to arrange that."



"I want to speak to him regularly." Here, finally, was something he could hold onto. "And see him."



"If he agrees," Will agreed, smiling to himself.  "He is not required to talk to or see anyone against his will, but that shouldn't be a problem."



"He should talk to his family." It was brusque, sharp, almost threatening. "We do family dinners on Sunday nights."



"It'll be up to him, Mr Eastoft."  His tone didn't change.



"No, Mr. Shepard, I would say it's up to you." He thought it over just a breath, narrowly. "You could escort."



He sighed softly, finally opening his eyes to look up at the clouds rolling by.  "I can encourage, but I stop short of physically throwing him into a car, sir."



"You won't need to get physical, if you insist he'll come." It was said with the certainty of familiarity. "Just push."



He felt his lip curl again, had to clench his jaw to keep from saying anything unfortunate.  "I'll keep that in mind, sir," he said after a small pause, voice carefully controlled.



"Call me back tomorrow and we'll figure out details." It was slightly distracted, something catching his attention.



He wanted to argue with that order, because it was definitely an order, but he let it go.  "Is there a number I can reach you at that's not at your place of work?  Just in case."



A grumble of consideration before he rattled off a number, quickly. Will would have to jump to get it.



He'd remember, used to having to hold on to bits and pieces of information on the fly.  "Thank you.  I'll be in touch, sir."



"Don't call late at night," another order, thoughtlessly.



A muscle in his jaw jumped.  "No, sir.  Of course not."



"I'll expect a call from you soon." And this was a dismissal. "Good day, Mr. Shepard."



"Good day, Mr. Eastoft."  He hung up, growling softly under his breath as he set the phone on the little patio table beside him.



It left Will to his thoughts - or to find Beau, if he so desired.



He sat for a bit, maybe five minutes, before he rolled back to his feet and walked back inside, heading for the kitchen.



Beaul was there - with a glass of water and the leftovers, mulling them over. He looked a little breathless, like he'd rushed there.



A brow arched as he saw Beau, then twitched as he noticed how breathless he looked, eyes narrowing for just a moment before he shook his head and walked over to a cabinet to pull out a bottle of wine that had already been opened and recorked.



Beau watched him, poking at the container like he was thinking about reheating it - and deciding against it. Eventually he couldn't help himself. "How's Monty, then?"



Will paused at a cupboard, hand on one of the stemless glasses.  "As insufferable as I had imagined."  He pulled it out and yanked the cork out with his teeth so he could pour.


Beau made a sound like a laugh, looking back down to the takeout container.



He brought his glass over to lean back against the counter perpendicular to where Beau was sitting, he took a long drink before looking back at the younger man, thoughtful, vaguely appraising.



His attention was turned downward, a bit flat - and shoulders tense. But he didn't ask what his father had said.



"I'll let you have some of this is you tell me why you look out of breath."  He didn't sound irritated or angry, more curious than anything else.



He blinked, looking back up at Will, and paused just a moment before he got up to grab a glass. "...wanted to hear what you said to him."



He'd suspected, and really, it didn't matter to him if Beau had been eavesdropping.  He'd only gone outside because he wasn't going to force Beau to be present for it.  "How much of it did you hear?"  He straightened up to grab the bottle so it'd be him pouring and not Beau.  Three fingers.  Not quite what he'd poured himself, but more than a sip.



"Only bits and pieces." He shrugged a tiny bit, staring at the pour. "Couldn't get his side, at all, but I can guess."



"Well," he rolled a shoulder as he pressed the cork back into the neck.  "He indicated that if it weren't for those tattoos nullifying magic that's tossed your way he'd be controlling you."



Beau went quiet, then closed up the leftovers to lean back with the wine. "Sounds right."



"He also wants to arrange weekly family dinners."  Will took a drink, leaning back against the counter again.  "I told him it was your choice, and he told me if I insisted you'd go along with it."



Beau grimaced and smoothed a hand over his hair. Then he drank, all at once,draining the glass.



He tipped his head to watch Beau drain his glass.  "He needs his family," he mimicked, snorting softly.



He pushed the glass forward slowly, swallowing, thinking it over. "...if I want my inheritance."



Will shrugged, swirling his wine in his glass thoughtfully.  "I'm not going to force you to go.  He did indicate that you wouldn't have to go alone, but it's up to you."



He licked his lips and looked a little bit kicked while he thought it over. Eventually he dragged a hand across his face. "I don't know. You couldn't tell him no?"


"You could say you're not up to seeing your family at the moment."  He shrugged again, leaned over to pour a little more wine into Beau's glass from his own.  "But I suspect that would only work so long."



He licked his lips, thinking it over, and then leaned in for the wine. "You're not immune to magic, are you?"



Will tapped the edge of his glass against his lip thoughtfully.  "I've got charms that are pretty effective protection against most magics."



Beau made a sound like he doubted it, pulling his glass in slowly. He didn't just down it this time, at least. "It's probably not a good idea."



"No, probably not," Will agreed, taking another drink.  "Probably can't avoid it forever, either.  Not if you want to avoid being forced back."



He looked down into the glass and a muscle in his jaw jumped. "I could be injured again."



The bigger man made an agreeing sort of hum as he set hands and glass back on the counter in front of him.  "He seemed to have gotten the idea in his head that you thought being here was extreme."  But it wasn't like Beau had talked to anyone on the way out, so Will hadn't put any stock in it.  Not that it mattered much one way or another.  Beau staying where he'd been would have had a very bad ending.



He sipped at the wine, uncertainly.  Attention still turned downward. "I don't want to go to dinner."



"Okay."  Simple as that.  Even if Will hadn't thoroughly disliked Beau's family, he still wouldn't have forced him.  It would have been unlawful, at the very least.



"I don't know how long that'll hold out, though." He still didn't look up; shifted fingers around the bottom of the glass.



A heavy breath from Will would indicate agreement.  "He pretty much demanded I call him tomorrow to work out details."  He said it like he didn't believe that's what Montgomery really wanted.  "I only stepped outside because I figured you wouldn't want to listen, but I don't actually care if you do."



"It's my life, isn't it?" He shrugged just the tiniest bit, finally lifting the glass to drink.



"Mmhmm. So you can listen in when I call back tomorrow, or hell.  You can talk to him yourself if you want."  He shrugged again, tapping his fingers against the side of his glass.



"No." That was a definitive no, reflexive. He almost knocked the glass over.



"Figured that."  He slid a fingertip along the edge of his glass before bringing it up for another drink.



Beau rolled his shoulders, hair falling forward around his face, and grimaced. "I have a...a hard time there."



That had been abundantly obvious.  "You don't have to go back."



He shrugged a little bit, took another long swallow, resting his elbows on the counter. "Again, unless I want my inheritance someday."



To that Will could only shrug, head tipped to watch Beau as he drank.  He didn't have any easy answers for him, because it wasn't a straight forward situation.



"Still get something from my aunt, but not until I start a business." He shook his head just a tiny bit.



"Work towards that, then."  He made it sound simple, but to him it was.  Maybe all the pieces weren't in place yet, but it was something to focus on, at least.



He was quiet while he considered it, then puffed out just a little breath. "They are family, though."


"It's not a decision you have to make right now," he reminded him, straightening up to roll his shoulders back, stretching.



Beau shrugged and drank again, straightening as he finished off the glass.



This time Will didn't pour more into it, but instead tipped his own glass back to down the last large swallow so he could take both glasses and set them in the sink.



"Not this week." It lilted just a bit, a rare case where Beau really didn't sound sure.



Tanned fingers curled around the edge of the sink as he turned to lean back against it so he could look across the kitchen at Beau.  "Alright."  He could manage that, at least.  Probably.



He rubbed up the back of his neck again, stepping back away from the counter -- and the leftover food.



He was trying to read him but not quite managing.  However he did glance down at the takeout as Beau backed away from it, took what seemed like a hint that the other man was done with it, and put it away.



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Offline Beejoux

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Re: Judgement calls [Beau x Will]
« Reply #1 on: January 11, 2020, 02:46:08 PM »
"No chance of a computer or anything is there?" He hesitated in the hall, waffling. "I haven't posted anywhere since before the hospital, people must. think I'm dead."



He thought about it for a long moment, like he wasn't entirely sure it was a great idea.  "I have a laptop you could use, but out here."  That'd be the comprise.



"No nude selfies then." It dug for that careless, joking tone and Beau almost found it again. He just sounded a little flat.



Will chuckled, shaking his head as he walked towards him, then turned to slip past to head down the hall and into his room to fetch the laptop.



Beau didn't trail him. Instead he lingered, standing awkwardly in the hall with a faint frown around the edges.



The laptop was open, balanced on Will's palm as he came back out, other hand working over the keyboard to type in a password.  As he came up level with Beau he gestured for him to go back into the living room.



He hesitated, then went - to drop down on the couch and sprawl out, eyes tracking Will. "Going to sit and read over my shoulder?"



"Do I need to, or are you going to be good?"  He shot him a look as he followed, sinking down on the couch with enough space between them to not be looming.  Then he set the laptop on Beau's lap and reached for the remote to put something on the tv.



"I'm definitely not going to be good." He said it absently, pulling the laptop in. When he typed, it was hunt and peck, slow going. Beau obviously wasn't a touch typist.



Will snorted softly as he scrolled through show options.  "Don't tell anyone where you are, or who's watching you."


"I don't actually know where I am." He'd fallen asleep in the car pretty much every time. Thinking about it made him pause, and then pull up google maps to have a look at his location.



He glanced over at the screen, then back to the tv.  "So far your parents don't know, and it'd probably be best to keep it that way for as long as we can swing it."  Powerful magicians trying to get into his house?  No thank you.



"No location tagged instagram posts then, got it." But his tone was dry; as if he'd post any pictures of himself right now. With a beard. No. He pulled up facebook.



Will made a sound like he still wasn’t sure giving Beau the laptop was the best idea, but he didn't take it back.  Just glanced briefly at the screen again as he settled into a comfortable looking slouch and kicked his feet up, finally settling on a movie.



He could do that, then, while Beau awkwardly typed up a couple messages, and then -- sat back to browse, almost absently tipping the screen so that Will couldn't peer in.



Will left him alone, head propped up on his hand, elbow on the arm of the couch.



Beau would keep going until the battery died. And, if this was meant to make him feel better, it failed utterly. Instead, he finally closed the lid with a frown on his face.




The movie was just about finished when Beau closed the laptop, but it made him look up, head tipping to glance at the younger man, brows arched.  "What's wrong?"



He blinked at Will, then smoothed out his eyebrows, wiping the expression as clean as he could. "What, beside everything in my life?"



There was a beat where maybe Will might have tried to argue that, but apparently thought better of it.  Instead his lips twitched a little, expression thoughtful but hard to read.



"I would say the only thing that's good in my life, right now, is the glass of wine I drank." He sprawled back, a hand on the laptop. But he was tense; tense in a way that was deeper than just general bitching about life.



Quiet for a moment, gaze flicking back to the action on the tv, then grey eyes slid back, trying to read the other man.  "Did something happen?"



"Absolutely nothing." He said it sharply, eyes closed and head tipped back. But he said it like that was the problem.



"Ah."  It sounded like he understood now, and maybe he did.



The tone made it worse. Beau scowled, then dropped the laptop on the couch between them and got up.



There was no actual rolling of eyes, but maybe Beau got that impression anyways as Will breathed out something that wasn't quite a sigh and turned his attention back to the movie.



He went off to the bathroom -- and about five minutes later poke his head back out. "Do you have a razor?"



The movie was over at that point so Will rolled up to his feet to head towards the bathroom so he could pull a razor from one of the drawers.  He popped the old blade out, replacing it with a new one, and set it on the counter.  "All the usual shaving accoutrements are in that drawer."



Beau looked down at it with a grimace -- like it was a really shitty razor, and maybe comparatively it was -- but he didn't voice that out loud. Just leaned in to poke through the drawer in search of whatever was nicest.



It was one of those monthly shave club deals, so not exactly high class, but it'd work well regardless.  "Need anything else?"  It was mild, helpful even.



He thought about that, like really thought about it, and then grimaced a bit. "I guess not."



"Okay."  He lingered maybe an extra second or two in the doorway before heading back out and pulling the door mostly closed behind him.  Beau could shut it the rest of the way if he wanted.



He did. And then set to shaving. Which shouldn't have taken terribly long, but with Beau -- it did. Half an hour passed and he was still working, and then forty five minutes, and the shower went on.



It was a long time, and at some point maybe Beau had heard the sound in the living room stop for perhaps a minute and a half before going back on after the razor tapped against the sink.  As the water went on Will got up to make something to eat for dinner.



A good hour before he came out wrapped in a towel, with little nicks all along his jaw. Obviously, Beau wasn't much of a shaver. It would have been an improvement, maybe, if he hadn't injured himself so much, and if he wasn't grumbling as he went to get fresh clothes.



He glanced up at the sound of the door opening, but since Beau went straight to his room Will said nothing, just winced faintly to himself before going back to the plate that now sat in front of him at the counter.



Yet another thing he'd have to learn to do, and maybe it helped put things in perspective, having to start from scratch with so much. He came out in fresh clothes (more pajamas) eventually, with the scowl locked on his face.



Dinner today was lighter; BLT wraps with grilled chicken.  Will was almost finished with his as Beau came back out, brows arching curiously at the look on his face.



He held up a finger, in challenge maybe, still scowling. If Will said anything, it'd make it worse. He stepped around to get a glass of water.



He shook his head in surrender and went back to eating.



Beau drank the water and grimaced a bit as he touched the very edge of one of those slashes, unhappy. maybe his plan had been a photo update, but that seemed shot to hell now. Eventually he cleared his throat. "How do people live like this?"



Broad shoulders shrugged as he brushed crumbs off bare fingers and folded them together.  "Practice and virtue of necessity."



"There are better razors than that, too." He sounded cranky, still, staring down at the food. "Your skin must be like sandpaper."



"My skin is fine."  He kept his tone cool and mild, deliberately not antagonizing.



"I didn't exactly see moisturizer in there." His jaw jumped as he clenched his teeth, and then stepped in to poke at the sandwich.



"Did you go through the rest of the drawers?  There should be some."  Again, not the best quality, but it seemed to work fine for Will.



He grunted, leaning in to pick the sandwich apart. He'd eat the bacon, at least. "I had some in my bag. Good stuff."



He just shrugged and stood up to take care of his plate, then walked around the counter to grab the laptop off the couch.



Beau sat and glared at his food, eating the bacon and maybe a bit of tomato and then picking at the wrap, with fingers tracing the scratches along his jaw.



"Do you want something for the cuts?"  He said it absently as he opened the laptop and frowned as it didn't power up, then wandered down the hall with it to his room to grab the cord.



Just talking about it made him even huffier -- embarrassed, probably, but he hid it with annoyance, voice raised. "Like what, exactly."



He came back with the laptop and cord, but also had a little tube of pain relieving Neosporin, which he tossed on the counter at Beau before plugging the cord into the wall, and finally booting the computer up again.  He slid into a stool opposite Beau now, and reached across to grab his gloves before actually touching the keyboard.



Beau frowned down at it, sitting slowly to pull it open and dab at the worst spots on his face. He'd left the laptop open to someone's facebook page: tall and skinny Chinese kid with glasses and an easygoing smile. Specifically to his pictures, out with a handful of other young men, with his arm around one. Apparently, he was an engineering student.



Will blinked at the page that loaded up, brows arching subtly before pale eyes flicked down to the rest of the pictures he could see, mouse cursor hovering over the 'x' in the corner.



There weren't any pictures with Beau immediately apparent. Mostly they seemed to be engineering events, mostly with other Asian American students. And a lot with one in particular, on his recent timeline.



He really shouldn't have kept looking, it wasn't his business, but he scrolled down a bit more as he flicked a glance over the screen at Beau.



Beau wasn't looking. He was still frowning down at the neosporin, reading the ingredients like he'd never seen the stuff before. So Will could snoop, if he wanted; go back through the timeline. But he'd have to dig to find pictures of the guy with Beau. Months back. Before the party.



He kept scrolling until Beau either stopped being distracted, or he found the other man in the pictures.



"What the hell does this even mean?" It was sharp, annoyed, his eyes raised. By the time he spoke, Will had come to the honeymoon phase, apparently; lots of pictures of the two very close, with one of Da-Wei's arms looped over Beau's shoulders, even one picture of Beau kissing him on the cheek, perfectly staged.



It made him blink, and he lifted his head as he closed the window, brows arched.  "What does what mean?"  But he'd seen enough, probably, to figure out why Beau was in a shittier mood than it seemed like he should be.



"Neomycin sulfate," he read. Very carefully. "What is it?"



He didn't know off the top of his head so he pulled up google to type it in, fingers moving smoothly over the keys.  "It's an antibiotic."



"Polymyxin B sulfate?" He shook his head just a bit at Will.



He typed that in too.  "Also an antibiotic, targeting different kinds of infections."



"You don't even know what this stuff is, but you put it on." It came with a little shake of his head, frowning at Will.



"Doctor recommended," he tossed back easily, faintly amused.  "I have magic stuff that works better, but it's not going to work on you."



"Way to rub it in." That was even more sour. He brushed at the point of his chin, unhappily. Like this, though, his cheekbones seemed much starker, jaw squarer.



He let out a huff of a breath, frowning as he turned his attention to the laptop and the reason he'd pulled it out to begin with; looking over case files.  He moved from the counter to the couch.  "Not everything I say is meant to be a dig at you."



"If you say so." He sounded dubious, though, like he didn't quite believe it.



The frown lingered as he logged into the SWBP server, scanning through everything recent that had come in in the last two days.  He hadn't given Beau a hard time since lunch.  Had been down right nice, in fact.



And yet everything prickled. He picked at more of the wrap, then picked everything up to dump out what was left and pull away back to the bathroom. He wanted to look at the damage now that it had dried.



Will just let him go, understanding enough not to make a big deal out of Beau's shitty mood, but annoyed enough not to go after him.



Eventually he came out, with his face washed and the worst of it calmed down but his expression still bleak. He threw himself down on the couch to watch Will work.



He'd glance up when he heard Beau coming back down the hall, watching him until he flopped down on the couch, then went back to what he was doing.  Which probably wasn't terribly interesting to watch.  He was opening case files, looking through them long enough to get a sense of if he could assist on them without having to go into the station, and then moving onto the next one.



It was boring, but it was also probably confidential, so Beau watched and paid attention, more or less, until he finally drifted off again next to Will, head rolling to one side.



It was confidential, but Will also wasn't lingering on any page longer than a minute or two, and the majority of the cases were minor things.  He hardly seemed to notice when Beau drifted off, not until he got up to get a glass of water and sat down carefully so he wouldn't disturb the other man.  He just continued to work quietly, tv running in the background just for the low noise.



It was funny: he never quite seemed to sleep when he was supposed to, but went out like a light when he was between things. He'd shift a little when Will got up, and again when he sat down, leaning into him -- but still sound asleep.



He paused in what he was doing as he felt Beau lean in against him, and he tipped his head enough to look down at him -- really looking at him for probably the first time.  And instead of nudging him over, or waking him up to send him to his own bed, he just sat there, quietly.  Even after he'd finished with flagging cases and had put the laptop away.



It was easy to forget that Beau was only in his early twenties -- young, really, in the grand scheme of things, and only kind of out of his parents' home. It was easier to remember that when he was asleep, and not glaring or clenching his teeth or dryly mocking, with hair loose and wild around his face and his mouth open just a little bit. He didn't snore. Much.



Too young, probably, for Will to keep stealing glances, or to be as comfortable as he was with the younger man laying warm against his shoulder.  And there was definitely more than one reason why he should have moved him, but he was reluctant to do.  It'd get to the point where the sun had gone down and it was getting close to when Will usually went to bed, he lifted a hand to nudge Beau softly and paused, gloved fingertips very carefully moving a bit of hair from his face instead.



He puffed out a little breath and twitched -- and grimaced, mouth moving as the gesture woke him up. He yawned and shifted a little bit, reaching up himself to scrape his hair back as he cracked his eyes.



Will pulled his hand back, watching Beau's face as he stirred, shifting a bit before opening his eyes, barely.



His eyebrows twitched and, as he realized he was on Will he sat up all at once. Wincing, as he did, his neck gone all tense.


He couldn't quite help a small, amused smile.  And now that Beau had sat up he could finally move, arms stretching up before folding loosely over his stomach.



Beau rubbed at the back of his neck and worked the sour taste out of his mouth, frowning at Will. And he didn't say anything. Not yet.



When Beau didn't say anything Will gave him a questioning look, head tipping.



"Time is it?" He was croaky, mouth dry; and finally struggled up to stand to get another glass of water.



Will held out his glass, still half full, as Beau moved to stand.  "Little after ten.  You've been out for a while."



"Fuck me." He leaned in against the counter, brushing at his hair and -- after a moment -- taking the water to sip.



"Seemed like you needed the sleep," he pointed out quietly, tone neutral, fingertips tapping silently against the arm of the coach.



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Offline Beejoux

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Re: Judgement calls [Beau x Will]
« Reply #2 on: January 11, 2020, 02:47:23 PM »
"Yeah, and now I won't sleep again. I'll have to sit out here and read your stupid books." He rubbed a hand across his eyes as he downed the water.



The small, half amused smile faded away completely as he looked away, fingers going still, closing, before he thumped his hand lightly against the armrest and moved to roll up to his feet.



He swallowed, and then pointed down to Will's laptop. "Unless you want to leave the computer out."



A muscle jumped in his jaw, and the calm from a moment before was replaced by impatience and irritation.  "You make it really difficult to want to do nice things for you," he said after a moment, not looking at him or the laptop.



Beau blinked at that, rubbing at his jaw -- still prickled with little injuries -- and frowned at Will. "I've got nothing, leave something, anyway."



"Why?" He lifted his head finally to look at him, brows creased and expression genuinely curious, if exasperated.  "It seems safer not to when you keep lashing out."



There was another of those little hesitations, Beau floundering with a snappy answer before settling on the truth. "Do you want to sit alone in a stranger's house with nothing but your own thoughts?"



"No, I don't," he answered truthfully.  "But I also wouldn't be snapping at that person for every nice thing they're doing, and expecting them to do more."



Beau puffed out a breath, just staring at Will. "I didn't snap."



"You have.  Whether you realize it or not, that's what you're doing."  He kept his voice even, not yelling, not letting his impatience bleed out.



"I don't really know...I don't know what you expect." He downed the rest of the glass and turned to put it in the sink.



"How about you don't blame me for you being up all night, when you fell asleep on my shoulder.  Just as a start."  He'd brought his arms up, crossing them loosely.



"That's your guilt speaking, I never blamed you for anything." But after a breath he did pause. "Though, I mean, I am technically your prisoner."



"Prisoner?"  He made a humorless huff, shaking his head.  "Really."  His hands came up to comb his hair back from his face and he turned to head down the hall.



"Technically." It was tossed off after him, struggling for bluster, but maybe just a bit confused.



"Okay, Abbott," was all he said back as he walked into his room, door swung back but not quite closing.



It did successfully leave Abbot alone with his thoughts in the strange house, though. He thunked around the kitchen a bit, not quite brave enough to smash anything, before dropping back onto the couch.



Will did an impressive job of ignoring him as he striped out of his shirt and sweats and walked in his boxers to the bathroom, closing the door behind him.



Beau hadn't exactly been tidy, either with the shaving or the shower. The towel was folded over the back of the toilet, mostly crumpled, and the razor was still on the edge of the sink.



He sighed as he took in the mess, spent a moment or two picking up before getting into the shower.  It was later than was usual for him, and he definitely felt worn.



It wasn't exactly easy babysitting. Beau stayed just where he was, curled up on the couch, largely out of sight. and gone quiet now, at least.



He was still ignoring him when he came out 30 minutes later, clothes and gloves in one hand, towel held securely around his waist with the other.  He tossed the clothes in his room, tucked the towel tighter, and walked out to grab a glass of water.



He wasn't even reading; just sat on the couch with legs hugged against his chest, maybe half asleep again, cheek resting against his knee.



The water ran as Will filled his glass, but after a moment he flicked a glance at the back of Beau's head, frowning across the dim room at him.



He didn't look back: hunched and thinking, or dozing, There really wasn't that much else for him to do, aside from dig out books to mess around in classes he couldn't even go to anymore.



There was the tv, remote sitting on the table beside the couch.  Not what Beau wanted to do, but better than nothing.  Will exhaled sharply as he turned on his heel to head back down the hall towards his room.