Under Streetlights-Chapter Fourteen
Title: Under Streetlights
Rating: PG-NC-17
Disclaimer: Don't know, don't own, never happened.
Summary: Ville is a streetwalker who thinks this is as good as life gets... until he meets Bam.
“You’re sure you don’t need to get anything from where you’re staying?” Bam started the car. Ville shook his head.
“All that I have is leather pants and fishnet shirts.”
“I don’t think I’m going to send you to school in clothes like that.” The American chuckled, and Ville laughed, able to see the humor in it. He leaned his forehead against the glass of the car window and watched the streetlights as they passed them by.
It left a strange feeling in his stomach. For the past two, almost three years, these sidewalks had been all he’d known. They’d been his school, his playground, and in a strange, empty way, his home.
It wasn’t a good home. Not by any stretch. But leaving anything so familiar was bound to hurt just a little. A tiny pinprick of loneliness settled in the bottom of Ville’s heart.
“Are we going to your house?” he asked as they drove onto the highway. Bam looked uncomfortable.
“Sort of,”
“What do you mean, sort of? It’s not a cardboard box or anything, is it?”
“Well, no.” his blue eyes looked uncomfortable as he squirmed in the seat. He refused to say anything else, and so his younger friend turned back out to look out the window with interest as they entered a fairly nice looking neighborhood.
**
“Now, don’t say anything.” Bam instructed him as they climbed out of the car and approached the door of a large house with lovely flowers in the front. Ville nodded absently. He always had liked flowers. Funny, though, Bam hadn’t struck him as the type to do a whole lot of gardening.
The tanned knuckles rapped smartly on the door several times. A light when on upstairs, and then in the living room. A blonde haired woman who had a very maternal look about her eyes opened the door in a faded pink bathroom and slippers.
“Bam? What are you doing here?”
“I didn’t wake you, did I?”
“No, I was reading. Phil’s still asleep though. What’s wrong? Are you okay?” yup, she definitely had to be somebody’s mother. No one sounded so worried at being rousted out of bed. Most people would just sound angry.
“Well…” Bam reached behind him and pulled Ville forward. He gave the woman a confused smile, blushing at his skintight leather pants and the ripped black t-shirt he was wearing tonight. Something told him this wasn’t the sort of thing she would be wearing.
“Another one?” she sighed.
What? Another one? What was she talking about? Ville looked at Bam, quite confused.
“Look at his face, Ape!”
“Oh, honey.” The way she reached out and took his chin in her hand (so warm and soft and loving) and sighed made Ville want to burst into tears and throw her arms around him.
“Come in. We’ve got to get that cleaned up right away. Who hit you?”
“Don’t ask, Ape, just don’t ask.” Bam told her in a tone that was both light and warning. She caught his eye and they exchanged a glance. With a nod, she took the boy’s hand and began to lead him towards a bathroom.
Rating: PG-NC-17
Disclaimer: Don't know, don't own, never happened.
Summary: Ville is a streetwalker who thinks this is as good as life gets... until he meets Bam.
“You’re sure you don’t need to get anything from where you’re staying?” Bam started the car. Ville shook his head.
“All that I have is leather pants and fishnet shirts.”
“I don’t think I’m going to send you to school in clothes like that.” The American chuckled, and Ville laughed, able to see the humor in it. He leaned his forehead against the glass of the car window and watched the streetlights as they passed them by.
It left a strange feeling in his stomach. For the past two, almost three years, these sidewalks had been all he’d known. They’d been his school, his playground, and in a strange, empty way, his home.
It wasn’t a good home. Not by any stretch. But leaving anything so familiar was bound to hurt just a little. A tiny pinprick of loneliness settled in the bottom of Ville’s heart.
“Are we going to your house?” he asked as they drove onto the highway. Bam looked uncomfortable.
“Sort of,”
“What do you mean, sort of? It’s not a cardboard box or anything, is it?”
“Well, no.” his blue eyes looked uncomfortable as he squirmed in the seat. He refused to say anything else, and so his younger friend turned back out to look out the window with interest as they entered a fairly nice looking neighborhood.
**
“Now, don’t say anything.” Bam instructed him as they climbed out of the car and approached the door of a large house with lovely flowers in the front. Ville nodded absently. He always had liked flowers. Funny, though, Bam hadn’t struck him as the type to do a whole lot of gardening.
The tanned knuckles rapped smartly on the door several times. A light when on upstairs, and then in the living room. A blonde haired woman who had a very maternal look about her eyes opened the door in a faded pink bathroom and slippers.
“Bam? What are you doing here?”
“I didn’t wake you, did I?”
“No, I was reading. Phil’s still asleep though. What’s wrong? Are you okay?” yup, she definitely had to be somebody’s mother. No one sounded so worried at being rousted out of bed. Most people would just sound angry.
“Well…” Bam reached behind him and pulled Ville forward. He gave the woman a confused smile, blushing at his skintight leather pants and the ripped black t-shirt he was wearing tonight. Something told him this wasn’t the sort of thing she would be wearing.
“Another one?” she sighed.
What? Another one? What was she talking about? Ville looked at Bam, quite confused.
“Look at his face, Ape!”
“Oh, honey.” The way she reached out and took his chin in her hand (so warm and soft and loving) and sighed made Ville want to burst into tears and throw her arms around him.
“Come in. We’ve got to get that cleaned up right away. Who hit you?”
“Don’t ask, Ape, just don’t ask.” Bam told her in a tone that was both light and warning. She caught his eye and they exchanged a glance. With a nod, she took the boy’s hand and began to lead him towards a bathroom.