fic!
Five Times Sisky Wasn't Old Enough
(And One Time He Was)
R
Andy Mrotek x Adam Siska
written for this prompt at anon_lovefest; not beta-ed, let me know if you see any glaring errors...
001. Sisky gets it, okay? He really, really does. He's the runt of the litter, all tiny arms and girl-thin wrists and curly hair and too-big eyes. He's not tough, like his brother, and he knows that if he tags along with Jason, chances are that Jason's friends will kick his ass from here to Sunday for saying something stupid or because he sometimes cries when movies get really intense.
He knows that Jason really honestly feels badly that he can't let Sisky come along when he goes to see Resident Evil, but that doesn't mean it hurts any less to watch his brother roll his eyes and mutter, "Sorry, bro," while he high-tails it out the door behind his best friend Allen. Instead of beating his fists against the door and letting the hot, angry tears run down his cheeks and soak into the carpet, Sisky bites his lip and narrows his eyes and tells his mom he's going for a walk. She purses her lips like she's going to try and console him, but he just curls further in on himself while she nods and says, "Okay, sweetie, be safe."
He's at the park at the end of the his block, the sun setting behind all the houses and bathing the too-wet grass in a hazy orange glow, when a pair of loud voices carries over to the swing set from the direction of the bike rack. Sisky glances up, buries his hands deeper in his pockets, and kicks at the sand, trying not to look like he's sizing up the new kids.
One of them is tall, with the awkward, lanky stride that suggests he's only going to get taller, and the other has the most gleaming white teeth that Sisky has ever seen. They don't notice him sitting on the swings until the tallest one is twined around the monkey bars, laughing at something the other said. The shorter one walks over with his disarming smile and his wavy blond hair and says, "Hey, kid, aren't you a little young to be out here by yourself?"
Sisky bristles and hisses, "Shut up, you don't know anything." It's childish and probably only reaffirms his brother's opinion - that he's just not old enough to have the same cool friends like Jason does. The other boy just laughs and sinks onto the swing next to Sisky's.
"Whoa now," he laughs. "Easy there, tiger." He holds his hand out and Sisky eyes it warily until he says, "I'm Andy."
Sisky smiles a little because he's still not sure the joke's not on him. "Adam," he says, and it sounds more grown up already.
002. Huffing a sigh into the fabric of his pillow - and he wonders absently when was the last time he put the case in with the laundry because it reeks of his shampoo - Sisky toes at his ratty sneakers until they fall to the floor with a muted thud. He can still feel his cheeks burning from earlier this afternoon, the "too cool for you" smirk curling at the corner of Emma's mouth and the way that big jock from down the hall hadn't even bothered disguising his laughter. Why had he thought it was a good idea anyway? Emma's totally out of his league, he should know that. She's beautiful and she has good grades and she wears skirts so short that it's almost indecent so why in hell frozen ever would a girl like her ever be interested in him?
He makes a mental note to call Bill later and apologize for not coming to band practice, but he doesn't think he'd be much of a help at the moment anyway. He isn't in the mood to play bass and he's never been good at translating his feelings into witty one-liners, so it's probably better that he isn't there at all.
Sisky almost starts when he hears a thump and a whispered, "Ow, shit," from somewhere in the vicinity of his desk, but Butcher's taken to crawling through windows rather than just using the front door like a normal person, so it really isn't all that surprising.
"Shouldn't you be at practice?" Sisky asks, but it's muffled by his pillow. He can almost hear it when Butcher shrugs.
"Maybe. But if you can play hooky, then so can I." There's a smile in his voice and Sisky rolls his eyes even though Butcher can't see. He doesn't need anybody else patronizing him today, thanks, Emma's friends did a fine job of patting him on the hand and telling him, 'Better luck next time' as if that would ever actually happen. The mattress dips next to him and then Butcher slaps him lightly on the back. Sisky grunts his disapproval.
"Get up, lazy bones, we're going on an adventure," he says. Sisky leans a little further away while Butcher sighs.
"Come on, dude," Butcher insists, flopping down so that he's laying next to Sisky, absently tapping the toe of his shoe against Sisky's calf. "Get up, we don't have all day."
Sisky finally groans exasperatedly and sits up, pushing his mane of curls out of his eyes and glaring at Butcher, who's grinning like the cat that got the canary.
"Where are we going to go at -" he pauses, eyes jumping over to the clock on his nightstand, "- four in the afternoon, man? The arcade's gonna be crawling with preteens and I'm not in the mood for CD scouring."
Butcher shrugs and stands, stretching. "Dunno where we're going," he responds honestly, holding a hand out for Sisky to take. "All I know is that you aren't old enough to be bitter and depressed over some stupid hussy."
Sisky takes Butcher's hand and then stares, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, laughter tingling at the back of his throat.
"Did you just seriously use the word hussy?"
Butcher grins and waggles his eyebrows. "I did the reading in Lit today," he whispers. Sisky can't suppress the laugh that leaps into his mouth at that, and he starts chuckling uncontrollably.
"That's better," Butcher murmurs, and Sisky only realizes he's still holding Butcher's hand when Butcher squeezes, once, and then steps away into the hall.
003. "No," the bouncer says. Sisky smiles and leans forward and starts to say that seriously, his name is Jason Siska and he's twenty-one, but the bouncer's eyes narrow and he repeats, voice low and dangerous, "No."
"All right, great, thank you for your time!" Sisky says, maybe too loudly, and snatches his brother's ID back, strolling away like someone who totally has nothing at all to hide.
Once he's out of the line of sight of the bar he scowls and leans against a random wall, scuffing his foot against the pavement and texting Bill that his ID didn't work. His phone buzzes maybe thirty seconds later and all it says is: that sux, sry sisky biz :(
Sisky rolls his eyes and mutters, "Some friends." The whole point of being out on tour is to have a good time and enjoy themselves and play music. They'd already played their show and then one of the guys had suggested going bar hopping. Luckily Sisky'd had a copy of his brother's ID on hand - you never knew when it would come in handy to be twenty-one, after all, and it wasn't like he and Jason didn't look anything like one another - but apparently that wasn't going to be enough. As he starts to head back toward the buses, Sisky debates the retaliation he'd surely receive if he was to accidentally misplace all of Bill's pants, nearly leaping out of his skin when an arm is haphazardly slung around his shoulders.
"Adam T. Siska," Butcher greets, and his eyes are maybe a little glassy but he doesn't smell like booze so Sisky's betting he isn't too far gone, "why aren't you in the bar?"
Sisky frowns and whines, "They wouldn't take my ID, man."
Butcher nods sagely. "It's 'cause you're prettier than your brother," he states solemnly, steering Sisky in the direction of The Academy's bunk.
Sisky snorts. "Yeah, of course," he mock-agrees. Butcher lets his arm slide off Sisky's shoulders and hops onto the first step up into The Academy's bus.
"So, Halo?" he asks. Sisky grins.
"Oh, it's on."
004. In retrospect, Sisky thinks, drinking so much was maybe not the best idea. And he's not that wasted, but he is definitely going to suggest to gravity that the room should probably not spin quite so much, because people - like Sisky, for example - are going to start getting nauseous.
"You okay, Sisky Biz?" Butcher asks, dropping down onto the sofa next to where Sisky's sitting. He moans a little, way back in his throat, and licks his chapped lips.
"Dun' move so much, 'kay?" he begs, pressing the heels of his palms to his eyelids to try and stop some of the constant motion, head only spinning more at the star-bursts of color that start to reel around the darkness of his mind.
"Hey, hey," Butcher says, wrapping his hand gently around Sisky's wrist and pulling him forward. "Lay down, okay?" Butcher says, voice soft, and Sisky sinks down so that his head is resting against Butcher's thigh.
"Good," Butcher praises warmly, carding his fingertips through Sisky's curly locks. "Now, I want you to open your eyes and focus on my face, okay?"
Sisky whines a little bit at the thought of opening his eyes, thinking of the way the room had spun so relentlessly before, and Butcher chuckles.
"I promise it'll help," he assures, both his hands working their way through Sisky's mess of wavy blond hair. "You just have to focus on one thing until the spinning stops, okay?"
Sisky nods and winces at the thrum that runs through his brain. He opens his eyes slowly, Butcher's grinning face swimming into focus.
"Hey, Adam," Butcher greets. Sisky can't help but grin back.
"Hey," he murmurs in response. They talk for a long time, about arbitrary things that Sisky is one hundred percent certain won't make any sense in the morning, until finally the room calms down and Sisky feels well enough to get up and stumble to his bunk, where he falls face-first into the mussed sheets.
As he's swaying his way out of the back lounge, he thinks he hears Bill say, "We need to have a talk, Andy," and then a lot of muted whispers flying back and forth.
Right before he drifts off, he could swear that it's Bill's voice that says, "He's way too young to know any better!" while Butcher barks, "I'm not going to hurt him!" but when consciousness resurfaces in the morning he can't remember any of it.
005. Butcher's avoiding him, and Sisky doesn't know why. He asks Bill, but Bill mostly just starts to look guilty around the eyes and insists that he hasn't the slightest clue. Carden and Chislett both shake their heads and say they're staying out of it and Sisky is finally starting to get frustrated. What's even worse is that the a few of the fans - or so they call themselves - have been bashing on Sisky's new hairstyle.
He feels himself bristle a little bit at the memory, because those kids hadn't known what kind of bravery it'd taken for Sisky to chop most of his hair off. And, if he's being completely honest, Sisky's more than a little disappointed in himself. He thought he was old enough that some stupid kid's off-handed remark wouldn't get to him like this, but there it is. On top of Butcher's sudden induction into the society of ninjas, it's a bit much for Sisky to deal with.
He drags Chislett with him to a hole-in-the-wall barber shop where he tells them he wants to cut everything off - "Not buzzed," he interjects, as the lady starts making eyes at the clippers, "just, you know, short." She smirks and nods and thirty minutes later it's like he's looking at somebody totally different in the mirror.
When they get back to the bus, the guys are ecstatic, all of them telling Sisky how good he looks. Butcher's even there, holed up in the back lounge with his headphones in while he peruses the internet. Sisky waits for a whole minute and a half before he yanks one of the earbuds out of Butcher's ear and clears his throat.
Butcher stares with wide eyes for a long moment before rising to his feet. He ruffles Sisky's hair with a grin - after which, of course, Sisky tries in vain to smooth it down again - and says, "Well, well, well, look at you all grown up."
Sisky beams, because it's more interaction than he and Butcher have had in days and it's really kind of nice not to be on bad terms.
"I'm a straight-up stunna," Sisky jokes, grinning even wider when Butcher laughs.
"Yeah, you are," Butcher says, and stares for another long moment before he clears his throat and steps away. "I should, uh," he offers, before smiling once more and retreating to the front of the bus.
Sisky frowns and wonders what he could possibly have done to fuck things up so badly.
006. When he finds out, Sisky is furious.
"- can't believe you'd do something so stupid!" he screeches at Bill, who is wincing and nodding at every word, looking supremely apologetic and opening his mouth in a vain attempt to get a word in edgewise.
"I'm old enough to make my own decisions and while I'm honored that you care enough to feel like it's your duty to protect me, that's not your place!" he shouts, and Bill mumbles an "I'm sorry," and all of Sisky's bluster deflates.
He sighs exasperatedly and runs his hand over his face.
"It's fine," he mutters, shaking his head. "I'm going for a walk." Bill just nods and lets him go.
It's colder outside than Sisky had expected and he zips up his jacket without really thinking about it, wandering between the parked cars at the gas station where they're parked for their half-hour lunch break. He's leaning against a wooden fence, gazing out at yellow fields rippling in the winter breeze. The wild grass is warped and brittle, but there's still a weird sort of old-time beauty to it.
The crunching sound of gravel beneath shoe soles reaches his ears, and Sisky doesn't bother looking over when Butcher leans on the fence beside him.
"Hey," Butcher says. Sisky nods. They stand in silence for a long moment.
"I -" Butcher starts, but Sisky cuts him off.
"You're an idiot," he states, although not unkindly. Butcher frowns, Sisky can see it out of the corner of his eye, and starts to say something else. Sisky cuts him off again.
"Bill's an idiot, too," he adds. When he looks up, Butcher's smiling fondly.
"Is he, now?" Butcher inquires slowly. Sisky laughs and turns, Butcher falling into step beside him as they head back toward the buses.
"Do you really have to ask?" Butcher snorts a giggle at that and they take a few steps without speaking, the sounds of the main road off to the right washing over them. About ten feet from the entrance to the bus, Sisky turns, gnawing his lower lip.
"He was wrong, you know," he blurts. Butcher arches an eyebrow at him, still smirking that little self-satisfied smirk that makes Sisky think Butcher knows something the rest of the world isn't privy to. He strides forward and leans his back against the bus, rolling his eyes in exasperation at Butcher and at the world in general.
Butcher stands in front of him, patiently waiting for Sisky to speak once more.
"I'm not all fragile and shit," he mutters. Butcher steps forward a little, nodding.
"I know," he agrees pleasantly, which only pisses Sisky off more.
"I'm not too young," he says, louder, angrier, the furious little boy from the swing set resurfacing in his words. Butcher gets right up in his space then, one hand at Sisky's wrist, the other pressed against the cool, metallic side of the bus.
"I know," he repeats. Sisky stares at him blankly for a moment and then -
Oh. Oh. The corners of Sisky's mouth pull up in a grin.
"Good," he says. From the way Butcher leans in and kisses him, it's pretty clear that they agree.
(And One Time He Was)
R
Andy Mrotek x Adam Siska
written for this prompt at anon_lovefest; not beta-ed, let me know if you see any glaring errors...
001. Sisky gets it, okay? He really, really does. He's the runt of the litter, all tiny arms and girl-thin wrists and curly hair and too-big eyes. He's not tough, like his brother, and he knows that if he tags along with Jason, chances are that Jason's friends will kick his ass from here to Sunday for saying something stupid or because he sometimes cries when movies get really intense.
He knows that Jason really honestly feels badly that he can't let Sisky come along when he goes to see Resident Evil, but that doesn't mean it hurts any less to watch his brother roll his eyes and mutter, "Sorry, bro," while he high-tails it out the door behind his best friend Allen. Instead of beating his fists against the door and letting the hot, angry tears run down his cheeks and soak into the carpet, Sisky bites his lip and narrows his eyes and tells his mom he's going for a walk. She purses her lips like she's going to try and console him, but he just curls further in on himself while she nods and says, "Okay, sweetie, be safe."
He's at the park at the end of the his block, the sun setting behind all the houses and bathing the too-wet grass in a hazy orange glow, when a pair of loud voices carries over to the swing set from the direction of the bike rack. Sisky glances up, buries his hands deeper in his pockets, and kicks at the sand, trying not to look like he's sizing up the new kids.
One of them is tall, with the awkward, lanky stride that suggests he's only going to get taller, and the other has the most gleaming white teeth that Sisky has ever seen. They don't notice him sitting on the swings until the tallest one is twined around the monkey bars, laughing at something the other said. The shorter one walks over with his disarming smile and his wavy blond hair and says, "Hey, kid, aren't you a little young to be out here by yourself?"
Sisky bristles and hisses, "Shut up, you don't know anything." It's childish and probably only reaffirms his brother's opinion - that he's just not old enough to have the same cool friends like Jason does. The other boy just laughs and sinks onto the swing next to Sisky's.
"Whoa now," he laughs. "Easy there, tiger." He holds his hand out and Sisky eyes it warily until he says, "I'm Andy."
Sisky smiles a little because he's still not sure the joke's not on him. "Adam," he says, and it sounds more grown up already.
002. Huffing a sigh into the fabric of his pillow - and he wonders absently when was the last time he put the case in with the laundry because it reeks of his shampoo - Sisky toes at his ratty sneakers until they fall to the floor with a muted thud. He can still feel his cheeks burning from earlier this afternoon, the "too cool for you" smirk curling at the corner of Emma's mouth and the way that big jock from down the hall hadn't even bothered disguising his laughter. Why had he thought it was a good idea anyway? Emma's totally out of his league, he should know that. She's beautiful and she has good grades and she wears skirts so short that it's almost indecent so why in hell frozen ever would a girl like her ever be interested in him?
He makes a mental note to call Bill later and apologize for not coming to band practice, but he doesn't think he'd be much of a help at the moment anyway. He isn't in the mood to play bass and he's never been good at translating his feelings into witty one-liners, so it's probably better that he isn't there at all.
Sisky almost starts when he hears a thump and a whispered, "Ow, shit," from somewhere in the vicinity of his desk, but Butcher's taken to crawling through windows rather than just using the front door like a normal person, so it really isn't all that surprising.
"Shouldn't you be at practice?" Sisky asks, but it's muffled by his pillow. He can almost hear it when Butcher shrugs.
"Maybe. But if you can play hooky, then so can I." There's a smile in his voice and Sisky rolls his eyes even though Butcher can't see. He doesn't need anybody else patronizing him today, thanks, Emma's friends did a fine job of patting him on the hand and telling him, 'Better luck next time' as if that would ever actually happen. The mattress dips next to him and then Butcher slaps him lightly on the back. Sisky grunts his disapproval.
"Get up, lazy bones, we're going on an adventure," he says. Sisky leans a little further away while Butcher sighs.
"Come on, dude," Butcher insists, flopping down so that he's laying next to Sisky, absently tapping the toe of his shoe against Sisky's calf. "Get up, we don't have all day."
Sisky finally groans exasperatedly and sits up, pushing his mane of curls out of his eyes and glaring at Butcher, who's grinning like the cat that got the canary.
"Where are we going to go at -" he pauses, eyes jumping over to the clock on his nightstand, "- four in the afternoon, man? The arcade's gonna be crawling with preteens and I'm not in the mood for CD scouring."
Butcher shrugs and stands, stretching. "Dunno where we're going," he responds honestly, holding a hand out for Sisky to take. "All I know is that you aren't old enough to be bitter and depressed over some stupid hussy."
Sisky takes Butcher's hand and then stares, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, laughter tingling at the back of his throat.
"Did you just seriously use the word hussy?"
Butcher grins and waggles his eyebrows. "I did the reading in Lit today," he whispers. Sisky can't suppress the laugh that leaps into his mouth at that, and he starts chuckling uncontrollably.
"That's better," Butcher murmurs, and Sisky only realizes he's still holding Butcher's hand when Butcher squeezes, once, and then steps away into the hall.
003. "No," the bouncer says. Sisky smiles and leans forward and starts to say that seriously, his name is Jason Siska and he's twenty-one, but the bouncer's eyes narrow and he repeats, voice low and dangerous, "No."
"All right, great, thank you for your time!" Sisky says, maybe too loudly, and snatches his brother's ID back, strolling away like someone who totally has nothing at all to hide.
Once he's out of the line of sight of the bar he scowls and leans against a random wall, scuffing his foot against the pavement and texting Bill that his ID didn't work. His phone buzzes maybe thirty seconds later and all it says is: that sux, sry sisky biz :(
Sisky rolls his eyes and mutters, "Some friends." The whole point of being out on tour is to have a good time and enjoy themselves and play music. They'd already played their show and then one of the guys had suggested going bar hopping. Luckily Sisky'd had a copy of his brother's ID on hand - you never knew when it would come in handy to be twenty-one, after all, and it wasn't like he and Jason didn't look anything like one another - but apparently that wasn't going to be enough. As he starts to head back toward the buses, Sisky debates the retaliation he'd surely receive if he was to accidentally misplace all of Bill's pants, nearly leaping out of his skin when an arm is haphazardly slung around his shoulders.
"Adam T. Siska," Butcher greets, and his eyes are maybe a little glassy but he doesn't smell like booze so Sisky's betting he isn't too far gone, "why aren't you in the bar?"
Sisky frowns and whines, "They wouldn't take my ID, man."
Butcher nods sagely. "It's 'cause you're prettier than your brother," he states solemnly, steering Sisky in the direction of The Academy's bunk.
Sisky snorts. "Yeah, of course," he mock-agrees. Butcher lets his arm slide off Sisky's shoulders and hops onto the first step up into The Academy's bus.
"So, Halo?" he asks. Sisky grins.
"Oh, it's on."
004. In retrospect, Sisky thinks, drinking so much was maybe not the best idea. And he's not that wasted, but he is definitely going to suggest to gravity that the room should probably not spin quite so much, because people - like Sisky, for example - are going to start getting nauseous.
"You okay, Sisky Biz?" Butcher asks, dropping down onto the sofa next to where Sisky's sitting. He moans a little, way back in his throat, and licks his chapped lips.
"Dun' move so much, 'kay?" he begs, pressing the heels of his palms to his eyelids to try and stop some of the constant motion, head only spinning more at the star-bursts of color that start to reel around the darkness of his mind.
"Hey, hey," Butcher says, wrapping his hand gently around Sisky's wrist and pulling him forward. "Lay down, okay?" Butcher says, voice soft, and Sisky sinks down so that his head is resting against Butcher's thigh.
"Good," Butcher praises warmly, carding his fingertips through Sisky's curly locks. "Now, I want you to open your eyes and focus on my face, okay?"
Sisky whines a little bit at the thought of opening his eyes, thinking of the way the room had spun so relentlessly before, and Butcher chuckles.
"I promise it'll help," he assures, both his hands working their way through Sisky's mess of wavy blond hair. "You just have to focus on one thing until the spinning stops, okay?"
Sisky nods and winces at the thrum that runs through his brain. He opens his eyes slowly, Butcher's grinning face swimming into focus.
"Hey, Adam," Butcher greets. Sisky can't help but grin back.
"Hey," he murmurs in response. They talk for a long time, about arbitrary things that Sisky is one hundred percent certain won't make any sense in the morning, until finally the room calms down and Sisky feels well enough to get up and stumble to his bunk, where he falls face-first into the mussed sheets.
As he's swaying his way out of the back lounge, he thinks he hears Bill say, "We need to have a talk, Andy," and then a lot of muted whispers flying back and forth.
Right before he drifts off, he could swear that it's Bill's voice that says, "He's way too young to know any better!" while Butcher barks, "I'm not going to hurt him!" but when consciousness resurfaces in the morning he can't remember any of it.
005. Butcher's avoiding him, and Sisky doesn't know why. He asks Bill, but Bill mostly just starts to look guilty around the eyes and insists that he hasn't the slightest clue. Carden and Chislett both shake their heads and say they're staying out of it and Sisky is finally starting to get frustrated. What's even worse is that the a few of the fans - or so they call themselves - have been bashing on Sisky's new hairstyle.
He feels himself bristle a little bit at the memory, because those kids hadn't known what kind of bravery it'd taken for Sisky to chop most of his hair off. And, if he's being completely honest, Sisky's more than a little disappointed in himself. He thought he was old enough that some stupid kid's off-handed remark wouldn't get to him like this, but there it is. On top of Butcher's sudden induction into the society of ninjas, it's a bit much for Sisky to deal with.
He drags Chislett with him to a hole-in-the-wall barber shop where he tells them he wants to cut everything off - "Not buzzed," he interjects, as the lady starts making eyes at the clippers, "just, you know, short." She smirks and nods and thirty minutes later it's like he's looking at somebody totally different in the mirror.
When they get back to the bus, the guys are ecstatic, all of them telling Sisky how good he looks. Butcher's even there, holed up in the back lounge with his headphones in while he peruses the internet. Sisky waits for a whole minute and a half before he yanks one of the earbuds out of Butcher's ear and clears his throat.
Butcher stares with wide eyes for a long moment before rising to his feet. He ruffles Sisky's hair with a grin - after which, of course, Sisky tries in vain to smooth it down again - and says, "Well, well, well, look at you all grown up."
Sisky beams, because it's more interaction than he and Butcher have had in days and it's really kind of nice not to be on bad terms.
"I'm a straight-up stunna," Sisky jokes, grinning even wider when Butcher laughs.
"Yeah, you are," Butcher says, and stares for another long moment before he clears his throat and steps away. "I should, uh," he offers, before smiling once more and retreating to the front of the bus.
Sisky frowns and wonders what he could possibly have done to fuck things up so badly.
006. When he finds out, Sisky is furious.
"- can't believe you'd do something so stupid!" he screeches at Bill, who is wincing and nodding at every word, looking supremely apologetic and opening his mouth in a vain attempt to get a word in edgewise.
"I'm old enough to make my own decisions and while I'm honored that you care enough to feel like it's your duty to protect me, that's not your place!" he shouts, and Bill mumbles an "I'm sorry," and all of Sisky's bluster deflates.
He sighs exasperatedly and runs his hand over his face.
"It's fine," he mutters, shaking his head. "I'm going for a walk." Bill just nods and lets him go.
It's colder outside than Sisky had expected and he zips up his jacket without really thinking about it, wandering between the parked cars at the gas station where they're parked for their half-hour lunch break. He's leaning against a wooden fence, gazing out at yellow fields rippling in the winter breeze. The wild grass is warped and brittle, but there's still a weird sort of old-time beauty to it.
The crunching sound of gravel beneath shoe soles reaches his ears, and Sisky doesn't bother looking over when Butcher leans on the fence beside him.
"Hey," Butcher says. Sisky nods. They stand in silence for a long moment.
"I -" Butcher starts, but Sisky cuts him off.
"You're an idiot," he states, although not unkindly. Butcher frowns, Sisky can see it out of the corner of his eye, and starts to say something else. Sisky cuts him off again.
"Bill's an idiot, too," he adds. When he looks up, Butcher's smiling fondly.
"Is he, now?" Butcher inquires slowly. Sisky laughs and turns, Butcher falling into step beside him as they head back toward the buses.
"Do you really have to ask?" Butcher snorts a giggle at that and they take a few steps without speaking, the sounds of the main road off to the right washing over them. About ten feet from the entrance to the bus, Sisky turns, gnawing his lower lip.
"He was wrong, you know," he blurts. Butcher arches an eyebrow at him, still smirking that little self-satisfied smirk that makes Sisky think Butcher knows something the rest of the world isn't privy to. He strides forward and leans his back against the bus, rolling his eyes in exasperation at Butcher and at the world in general.
Butcher stands in front of him, patiently waiting for Sisky to speak once more.
"I'm not all fragile and shit," he mutters. Butcher steps forward a little, nodding.
"I know," he agrees pleasantly, which only pisses Sisky off more.
"I'm not too young," he says, louder, angrier, the furious little boy from the swing set resurfacing in his words. Butcher gets right up in his space then, one hand at Sisky's wrist, the other pressed against the cool, metallic side of the bus.
"I know," he repeats. Sisky stares at him blankly for a moment and then -
Oh. Oh. The corners of Sisky's mouth pull up in a grin.
"Good," he says. From the way Butcher leans in and kisses him, it's pretty clear that they agree.