What's Right Isn't Always Easy

Smother me with pillows and kindness, in which I have never seen

Please slit my perfect throat with the knife that I gave you

Zeph's laugh made Sam flinch at first, but after a moment he began to smile weakly in response, figuring that it meant Ella had likely not been a lizard. When the news of what she actually had been came to light though Sam suddenly felt very awkward, casting his eyes downwards towards the table. "Oh. Um...I'm so..sorry. For that."

In a way, it made sense. He'd thought when he'd first arrived that the house was too big for one single man and the walls had felt...cold, as if there had been life here that was now gone. As Zeph spoke more he looked up and around the room, waiting to see the ghost of 'Ella' peering around a corner; at least it sounded like they'd been happy while things had lasted. "Oh, that s-sounds...like a lot of work, bu..b...but like it was worth it." He smiled, nodded...then looked away again, the obvious question of 'but then what happened?' hanging in the air.

Eventually, to stop his mind drifting back to his disowning from the Voice, he began to speak on the first topic to come to mind; his own home in the Hollowed Grounds. "...When I m-moved into my house, it was t..t..t-t-o be an apprentice to my men..mentor. A b-bookmaker. I'd never lived somewhere n..nice and qu-quiet and peaceful before. I could...could feel safe in my house, and it was amazing." A soft, sad smile took him over. "...I miss Li, sometimes. H-he was a part of the h..house. I can't bring myself t-to clean all of his th..things away, even now. Nearly se-seven years on."

When I told you "I love you" in my home

Just stab me in the back

"Weren't your fault." This is what you wanted to avoid- the apologies, the inability to make eye contact, the fucking pity people feel when you tell them about El. Sorry, they say, as though they had anything to do with it, as though they were the ones who didn't give her what she needed, who stood by as she fell apart.

Sorry, they say, as though it wasn't your sins that drove her to tumble over that ledge, and you to spend the next three years at the bottom of a bottle.

But that isn't his fault. It's yours.

Was it worth it, in the end? You raise your mug to your lips again, unwilling or unable to respond to his remark. It's a question you've asked yourself hundreds upon thousands of time before. Getting married, building the house, having Ray- was any of it worth it?

Get it fucking together, Zeph. You sit in silence as he recounts some of his youth, trying to claw your way out of your thoughts, latching into anything you can possibly find. Never lived somewhere nice and quiet. "Big family?" you wonder, hopeful that remembering his youth will help ease his mind (except doesn't he not like his sister? Fuck, too late. And, wait-) "-Feelin' safe? What's that mean?"

and in the sea that's painted black
creatures lurk below the deck
but you're my king and i'm your lionheart

Smother me with pillows and kindness, in which I have never seen

Please slit my perfect throat with the knife that I gave you

Sam nodded, wanting to get away from the topic of El as quickly as possible, having no idea how to comfort Zeph about it or if he even did need comforting. How did you know if someone was still upset about their dead wife or not? Was that the kind of thing you got over?

While he was glad of the chance to change subjects, he wasn't thrilled with the question he was asked. Thoughts of his father and what the older Wordsworth would think of his choice rang in his head making it all the worse and he sighed, gloved hand going to idly pull at the skin on the back of the other. He couldn't feel the pain, but the small acts of self-punishment still made something about it all feel just a little more just.

"No, just m...me and my sis-sister and my p..p-parents." Sam explained, not wanting to get into the differences between Evie and Amalia for the moment. He closed his eyes before answering the second question, a sigh leaving him. "My fa-ff-father. Was very cruel. He..um...treated me poorly, b-beat me...and um..th..things like that. Until I was sixteen." He opened one eye, waited to see Zeph's reaction, suddenly worried the other man might think him even more pathetic.

When I told you "I love you" in my home

Just stab me in the back

Well if that's not a duck-fucked entacado of a revelation. No wonder he wound up in an abusive relationship with a goddess (and who knows who else- the three prior relationships he mentioned flash through your mind). Seriously, who the actual hell has a child - a good, fine, wonderful son - and then decides you know what sounds fun? Beating it. You'd beat yourself to a fucking pulp if it got you one more second with your boy.

He's curling his hands up again, tearing at the skin; you reach out and grab the ungloved one, as though by shielding it you might somehow protect him from the cruelty of the world, the way you couldn't shield Ella. It takes you a moment to gather your thoughts, disbelief and anger heightened by the keen sting of your own memories. How do you follow a revelation about child beating and abuse?

Your thumb rubs thoughtlessly over his hand, gently caressing the new laceration with your calloused fingers. "Shit, Red," you exhale slowly, finally raising your eyes. "An' you're still this good a person? Fuckin' amazin'" And in your face, your voice, your touch, it's obvious you think this to be absolutely true.

and in the sea that's painted black
creatures lurk below the deck
but you're my king and i'm your lionheart

Smother me with pillows and kindness, in which I have never seen

Please slit my perfect throat with the knife that I gave you

Sam huffed out a surprised breath as Zeph grabbed his hands, staring down at them as if realising for the first time that he had been doing anything with them at all. He blinked and watched Zeph's thumb run over his skin, felt a little jolt in his chest of something not unlike the beginnings of a crush, even in the midst of all the sorrow.

When the endlessly kind man gave his compliment, Sam couldn't help it: Immediately there was a hot rush of new tears, everything in his mind screaming that the words weren't true; he wiped at his eyes with the palm of his hand and laughed, shaking his head. "You...you're so n-nice. You're too nice. T-to me." Not that he really minded, when he got to peek out of his guilt and shame and for a second feel the way he supposed he ought to, flattered and happy that Zeph still saw some good in him.

"...There's going t-to be ...a lot. For me to work out, and d-d-do...and there might..." Sam chewed at his lip, trying to consider how likely it was Wessex or some other hardcore Ascended might seek him out. "Might be p-people mad at me, who come to find me. I..if you wa-want me to move to the shelter..." Silently he begged Zeph to refuse, but if he was told to go he would, knowing his despair was a heavy burden for a near-stranger.

When I told you "I love you" in my home

Just stab me in the back

You huff a surprised laugh in response to him, bitterness laced in your voice. "I ain't so nice." Shaking your head, you glance away, a wry half-smile pulling at your lips. Though he's taken a hand away to wipe his eyes, you hold onto the other; a semiconscious act, a desire to hold on to the faith this man has placed in you, as short lived as you know it will be. It's nice to be his hero, as much as you know you aren't one.

You used to think you were a hero, a very long time ago.

Danger and threats mean little to you; you aren't the saint Red seems to think, and maybe it's time to dissuade him of that notion. He's in just as much danger from you and your ilk than anyone else, after all. "I ain't a good man, Red. I done things - do things - that'd make ya not wanna look at me again." Finally you release his hand, placing your own back around your mug, your expression hard and unhappy.

"I've fucked up enough for more'n one lifetime. Made a lotta people mad, an' spent more time regrettin' the past than I ought. And I ain't about t'change. You ain't th'only one with demons." Gaze hooded, you lean back in your chair. There's a frank darkness in your eyes as you attempt to meet his. "If y'don' wanna stay 'cus'a that I get it. But I ain't throwin' ya out, an' I'm willin' t'bet my demons'll take yours in a fight."

and in the sea that's painted black
creatures lurk below the deck
but you're my king and i'm your lionheart

Smother me with pillows and kindness, in which I have never seen

Please slit my perfect throat with the knife that I gave you

Sam already had objections in his mouth right away as Zeph insisted he wasn't nice, but he quietened to let him speak, waiting see what he'd say. It was true he'd suspected since they'd met that Zeph was involved in some shadier business and Remi had implied that too. While it wasn't really the conversation he wanted to have right now atop of everything else...Sam's curiosity still burned bright.

"...Wh..what have you done?" He asked, leaning back as well and holding his hands together in his lap. "It..it's hard f-ffor me to decide if I'm g-going to stay if I don't know." Honestly, there was little Zeph could say that would make him leave: by this point Sam was rather taken with the 'dock worker', and unless it turned out he was a serial killer, he was unlikely to run off.

When I told you "I love you" in my home

Just stab me in the back

Ah, so now you're getting into it. Truth be told you would have been perfectly happy to let Sam spend the season in ignorance of your less savory side, keeping him comfortably at arm's distance as originally intended, but... well, fuck it. Here you are, and he thinks you're a Good Guy and you think he's a fucking sweetheart who's been dealt an unjust hand and doesn't need to put his faith in another person who's only going to betray it again.

"Oh, y'know. Bit'a stealin', bit'a smugglin'. Bit'a other stuff, too." Way more. Your face is a mask of hard lines and hard truths. "Was a shit husband. Spent more time at the bottom of a bottle than any man ought'a, after... after our son died."

'-What the fuck do you want from me, El? I can't read your mind-!'

Shake away the ghosts. You wish you had some whiskey. "Point bein', I ain't some reliable hero sort. No paragon'a virtue. I'm a fuck-up, same as anyone else, an' a criminal by some people's estimation. I ain't a good man, but..."

You trail off, not looking at him. But what? What else can you say? You're a fucking mess, plain and simple, but at least you won't beat him. You won't tell him he's worthless just because he doesn't fit your idea of worth. And you won't let anyone else, so long as he's under your roof. It's the best you can offer - even if you can't bear to say it out loud, for fear the promise won't be kept.

and in the sea that's painted black
creatures lurk below the deck
but you're my king and i'm your lionheart

Smother me with pillows and kindness, in which I have never seen

Please slit my perfect throat with the knife that I gave you

Sam waited to hear what Zeph had to say, his hands grasping each other tight: he knew he couldn't handle another thing ending before it had begun, something else being cut short just because of the way things were. He knew even despite how much he wanted to stay, he wouldn't be able to if Zeph had done anything truly evil, no matter how kind the man was to him now.

Thankfully, stealing and smuggling weren't too much to be concerned about. As far as Sam knew, most people in Torchline engaged in at least one of those activities, and he'd suspected as much when Zeph had told him he was a 'dock worker'. Being a 'shit husband'...well, he wasn't one to judge that.

When he heard the reason for Zeph's drinking though, Sam's face turned to a concerned frown and without a seconds thought he was standing and going to Zeph, wrapping his arms around him and pressing his face into his shoulder. "You're g-good to me. I'm.." He stopped himself short of saying 'I'm sorry', remembering Zeph's last reaction. "I'm h..hoping to make my own judg..judgement."

When I told you "I love you" in my home

Just stab me in the back

Oh. Well. This is...hmm.

Unexpected? Yes, 100%. After your confession (Hey Red I'm a grumpy drunk old widower/one time dad who steals shit for a living and ruined every good thing he ever had!) you expected... well, not outright rejection because let's be real, Sam seems to put his trust in the worst people, but at least some degree of withdrawal. Sort of an oh, well, that's a lot reaction. Not, y'know, a fucking hug.

Is it unpleasant? Not exactly. You're not unaccustomed to physical contact, be it platonic or... otherwise, but there's something distinctly different an unnerving in this particular hug. Something about the way his arms snake around you, the way his face presses into your shoulder, the way he seems to care, to forgive.

You feel your breath catch in surprise, a shiver running up your spine at the strange intimacy of it. Half of you wants to laugh and push him away, half wants to raise your own arms up to return the embrace, to pull him against you and not let go, to undo all your fucking mistakes and just once, be the good guy.

You do nothing.

Eventually (seconds? minutes? hours later?) you clear your throat, voice gruff. "Well... lemme know what you decide." Very gently you push Sam away, enough to be able to look at his face with a bewildered, unreadable, almost-smile, a flush on your neck. "I thought I was s'posed't be makin' you feel better tonight, though." Your fingers itch to wipe the last tears away from his eyes, but you resist. "So... y'wanna talk about it? Or hear more stories? Or..." Or whatever. Whatever you can give, and maybe a little more than that, too.

and in the sea that's painted black
creatures lurk below the deck
but you're my king and i'm your lionheart

Smother me with pillows and kindness, in which I have never seen

Please slit my perfect throat with the knife that I gave you

Zeph didn't move to reciprocate the hug and Sam was similarly frozen and unsure of what to do until finally the move was made to push him away and he easily went, unable to focus on Zeph's clear confusion for very long due to his fresh embarrassment.

"You are m..mm..making me feel better!" He insisted, a little flushed laugh at the end of the words; it was true. Despite everything, having Zeph there to talk about it and around it with made things all the easier to deal with. "..I'm the one k-keeping you up. You ch...choose what we talk about."

So Sam would sit back down and listen and talk, however Zeph wanted to, until their cups were empty and the sky was beginning to shine lazy orange through the windows. When the other man went back up to bed, nothing had changed, but his eyes were dry and something felt in place.

{FIN}

When I told you "I love you" in my home

Just stab me in the back