Andy & Roger: Mistake
Characters: Andy, Roger
Prompt: Mistake
Words: 1430
Timeline: March 2015
"Could you grab my charger out of my bag, please?" Andy was curled up against the arm of the couch, eyes half shut, looking rumpled and cute and irresistible.
"Yeah, of course." Roger was up anyways, on his way to the kitchen to refill his water bottle. He paused on the way back to dig through Andy's backpack, and then he heaved a sigh. "Andrew..."
"No. Absolutely not. Fuck no." Roger turned with the pack of cigarettes in his hand, brow furrowed.
"What?"
"You don't say my name like that."
"Excuse me?" Roger goggled at him, eyes wide. Andy looked furious.
"You don't get to say my name like my parents say it. You're not my parent, okay? You're not even my guidance counselor any more. You're my boyfriend." His eyes were narrowed and he curled in on himself more tightly. Roger crossed his arms, frowning.
"Oh no. No, you don't get to try to ignore what I'm saying because of my tone of voice. Andy, you know better."
"Can you not?"
"Can I not what? Express concern about you?"
"Be disappointed with me!"
"I'm not disappointed with you, I'm worried about you!" Andy watched Roger come closer, looking more freaked out the nearer he got to the couch. "I know what an addictive personality you have, okay? You've told me all about it. I don't want you to become a statistic. There are way too many statistics about young gay people that are fucking depressing and I want you on the safe side of those numbers."
"I'm not a fucking statistic, okay?"
"You already are in some ways," Roger said, "I'm trying like hell to keep you away from other ways. It's not just smoking, you know it isn't."
"I don't even smoke that much. Only when I drink."
"You're nineteen! You shouldn't be drinking!" Roger sighed, sinking onto the other end of the couch and frowning down at the pack of cigarettes in his hand. "That and the drugs and the suicidal thoughts and--"
"I'm not even doing most of the drugs any more," Andy said, "because you asked me to stop and I tried to listen to you, okay? I cleaned up my act so much because of you, do you even realize?"
"Yes," Roger said quietly, curling one hand around Andy's bare foot where it stuck out from under the blanket. "I know you did. But do you realize how much I still have to worry about you? How many things you're vulnerable to regardless of what I do?"
"It's not your job to keep me safe."
"It's not my job. I'm not coming at it as a job. I'm coming at it as the man who loves you, who wants you to be as well as you can be. I want you to be healthy and happy and to feel secure and to know that you have inherent worth no matter who thinks what about you."
"Yeah, well, you're going to have to settle for kind of healthy and happy when I'm with you and deal with my insecurity and self-worth issues."
"No. I'm not going to settle. You shouldn't settle either. You have room for improvement. I'm not going to sit back and watch you fall apart when I can help you hold yourself together."
"You're not my guidance counselor any more," Andy said again. Roger shook his head, lips quirked to one side.
"No. I'm not. I'm your boyfriend. And if you think that means I have less of a stake in your wellbeing than I did before you graduated, you are deeply mistaken. I will do anything and everything I can to show you how to be a better man, not because I think I need to be a role model for you, but because I want you to be your best self for your own sake."
"I'm a long, long way from my best self," Andy said, and Roger squeezed his foot gently.
"Yeah, but you don't have to go that long, long way all by yourself."
"I know you worry about me... I'm trying not to give you so many reasons to worry."
"You could try a little harder," Roger said dryly, tossing the cigarettes onto the table beside the couch. "Come here?" They stared at each other from opposite ends of the couch before Andy sighed and rearranged himself to lean against Roger, who wrapped an arm around him. "I know you're trying. And I do appreciate the effort you're making. I'm just scared at how many ways things could go wrong for you. There's only so much I can do to keep you safe."
"Look, though-- I'm not going to be homeless, my parents would never let that happen. I'm not in poverty. I have health insurance and I'm getting my medication and I see a therapist. I'm not gonna drop out of college and my grades are decent so far. I haven't touched molly since I graduated and it's been a year and a half since I did coke the last time. I mean, yes, I'm drinking, but I'm not going out getting trashed at parties where I'm gonna get roofied or date raped or something. And I'm absolutely certain that my boyfriend isn't going to beat me up or force me into anything," he added with a slight smile. "I'm not doing that bad, okay? I'm not gonna fall through the cracks. I have you, I have my parents, I have my friends, I'm doing all right."
"Yeah, that's all true. I just..."
"You want me to be better. But compared to how I was before I started talking to you all the time, I'm doing so much better." He turned a little, to look Roger in the eyes, absolutely serious. "I'm still kind of a mess, I know. I'm still crazy anxious and I don't think much of myself. But I haven't had a real suicidal thought since the first time you kissed me. And even if I'm not very confident I'm light years more confident than I was before we got the GSA going. So you've already had a huge effect on me."
"Since I kissed you? Really?"
"Yeah. You gave me something to put my hope into. I didn't want to think about checking out early when I could think about what it would be like when you could finally touch me. And that was definitely worth sticking around for." Andy curled a lock of Roger's hair around his finger, tugging gently. "I am trying, Roger. I swear. But I'm gonna fuck up sometimes. And when I fuck up I need you to talk to me like we're equals even if you are older than me."
"I didn't mean to sound parental," Roger said. "Disapproving, yes, but not parental."
"Just don't call me Andrew, okay? People only do that when they're trying to put me in my place. You always call me Andy. It makes me feel about two feet tall when I hear my name like that in that tone."
"I didn't know it bothered you so much." Andy shrugged, and Roger hugged him, nuzzling against his hair. "I'm sorry, Andy."
"I'm sorry too. You can throw away the cigarettes, okay? I shouldn't waste my money anyways, they're stupid expensive in the city. I'll try not to bum any off my friends, too."
"Thank you," Roger breathed, and Andy turned to catch him in a sweet conciliatory kiss. "Thank you. I love that you're willing to try so hard for me."
"You just want me to be my best self," Andy said. "You probably have a better idea of what my best self should be than I do at this point."
"You know, we could sit down and talk it out," Roger suggested. "Make a list of goals."
"Sounds like a guidance counselor thing..."
"It's a valid self-improvement tool," Roger said. "I keep a list of goals for myself constantly. I update it once a year and cross things off as I achieve them. You'd be amazed how many things I've gotten done since I started doing that. You know, I started doing it when I was nineteen? Maybe it'll help you as much as it did me."
"I could give it a shot," Andy agreed, and then stifled a yawn against Roger's shoulder. "Maybe tomorrow?"
"Mm. Sleepy?"
"I think I need you to cuddle me to sleep like right now."
"I'm pretty sure I can manage that," Roger said, gently urging Andy to his feet. "C'mon, cutie. Bedtime."
Prompt: Mistake
Words: 1430
Timeline: March 2015
"Could you grab my charger out of my bag, please?" Andy was curled up against the arm of the couch, eyes half shut, looking rumpled and cute and irresistible.
"Yeah, of course." Roger was up anyways, on his way to the kitchen to refill his water bottle. He paused on the way back to dig through Andy's backpack, and then he heaved a sigh. "Andrew..."
"No. Absolutely not. Fuck no." Roger turned with the pack of cigarettes in his hand, brow furrowed.
"What?"
"You don't say my name like that."
"Excuse me?" Roger goggled at him, eyes wide. Andy looked furious.
"You don't get to say my name like my parents say it. You're not my parent, okay? You're not even my guidance counselor any more. You're my boyfriend." His eyes were narrowed and he curled in on himself more tightly. Roger crossed his arms, frowning.
"Oh no. No, you don't get to try to ignore what I'm saying because of my tone of voice. Andy, you know better."
"Can you not?"
"Can I not what? Express concern about you?"
"Be disappointed with me!"
"I'm not disappointed with you, I'm worried about you!" Andy watched Roger come closer, looking more freaked out the nearer he got to the couch. "I know what an addictive personality you have, okay? You've told me all about it. I don't want you to become a statistic. There are way too many statistics about young gay people that are fucking depressing and I want you on the safe side of those numbers."
"I'm not a fucking statistic, okay?"
"You already are in some ways," Roger said, "I'm trying like hell to keep you away from other ways. It's not just smoking, you know it isn't."
"I don't even smoke that much. Only when I drink."
"You're nineteen! You shouldn't be drinking!" Roger sighed, sinking onto the other end of the couch and frowning down at the pack of cigarettes in his hand. "That and the drugs and the suicidal thoughts and--"
"I'm not even doing most of the drugs any more," Andy said, "because you asked me to stop and I tried to listen to you, okay? I cleaned up my act so much because of you, do you even realize?"
"Yes," Roger said quietly, curling one hand around Andy's bare foot where it stuck out from under the blanket. "I know you did. But do you realize how much I still have to worry about you? How many things you're vulnerable to regardless of what I do?"
"It's not your job to keep me safe."
"It's not my job. I'm not coming at it as a job. I'm coming at it as the man who loves you, who wants you to be as well as you can be. I want you to be healthy and happy and to feel secure and to know that you have inherent worth no matter who thinks what about you."
"Yeah, well, you're going to have to settle for kind of healthy and happy when I'm with you and deal with my insecurity and self-worth issues."
"No. I'm not going to settle. You shouldn't settle either. You have room for improvement. I'm not going to sit back and watch you fall apart when I can help you hold yourself together."
"You're not my guidance counselor any more," Andy said again. Roger shook his head, lips quirked to one side.
"No. I'm not. I'm your boyfriend. And if you think that means I have less of a stake in your wellbeing than I did before you graduated, you are deeply mistaken. I will do anything and everything I can to show you how to be a better man, not because I think I need to be a role model for you, but because I want you to be your best self for your own sake."
"I'm a long, long way from my best self," Andy said, and Roger squeezed his foot gently.
"Yeah, but you don't have to go that long, long way all by yourself."
"I know you worry about me... I'm trying not to give you so many reasons to worry."
"You could try a little harder," Roger said dryly, tossing the cigarettes onto the table beside the couch. "Come here?" They stared at each other from opposite ends of the couch before Andy sighed and rearranged himself to lean against Roger, who wrapped an arm around him. "I know you're trying. And I do appreciate the effort you're making. I'm just scared at how many ways things could go wrong for you. There's only so much I can do to keep you safe."
"Look, though-- I'm not going to be homeless, my parents would never let that happen. I'm not in poverty. I have health insurance and I'm getting my medication and I see a therapist. I'm not gonna drop out of college and my grades are decent so far. I haven't touched molly since I graduated and it's been a year and a half since I did coke the last time. I mean, yes, I'm drinking, but I'm not going out getting trashed at parties where I'm gonna get roofied or date raped or something. And I'm absolutely certain that my boyfriend isn't going to beat me up or force me into anything," he added with a slight smile. "I'm not doing that bad, okay? I'm not gonna fall through the cracks. I have you, I have my parents, I have my friends, I'm doing all right."
"Yeah, that's all true. I just..."
"You want me to be better. But compared to how I was before I started talking to you all the time, I'm doing so much better." He turned a little, to look Roger in the eyes, absolutely serious. "I'm still kind of a mess, I know. I'm still crazy anxious and I don't think much of myself. But I haven't had a real suicidal thought since the first time you kissed me. And even if I'm not very confident I'm light years more confident than I was before we got the GSA going. So you've already had a huge effect on me."
"Since I kissed you? Really?"
"Yeah. You gave me something to put my hope into. I didn't want to think about checking out early when I could think about what it would be like when you could finally touch me. And that was definitely worth sticking around for." Andy curled a lock of Roger's hair around his finger, tugging gently. "I am trying, Roger. I swear. But I'm gonna fuck up sometimes. And when I fuck up I need you to talk to me like we're equals even if you are older than me."
"I didn't mean to sound parental," Roger said. "Disapproving, yes, but not parental."
"Just don't call me Andrew, okay? People only do that when they're trying to put me in my place. You always call me Andy. It makes me feel about two feet tall when I hear my name like that in that tone."
"I didn't know it bothered you so much." Andy shrugged, and Roger hugged him, nuzzling against his hair. "I'm sorry, Andy."
"I'm sorry too. You can throw away the cigarettes, okay? I shouldn't waste my money anyways, they're stupid expensive in the city. I'll try not to bum any off my friends, too."
"Thank you," Roger breathed, and Andy turned to catch him in a sweet conciliatory kiss. "Thank you. I love that you're willing to try so hard for me."
"You just want me to be my best self," Andy said. "You probably have a better idea of what my best self should be than I do at this point."
"You know, we could sit down and talk it out," Roger suggested. "Make a list of goals."
"Sounds like a guidance counselor thing..."
"It's a valid self-improvement tool," Roger said. "I keep a list of goals for myself constantly. I update it once a year and cross things off as I achieve them. You'd be amazed how many things I've gotten done since I started doing that. You know, I started doing it when I was nineteen? Maybe it'll help you as much as it did me."
"I could give it a shot," Andy agreed, and then stifled a yawn against Roger's shoulder. "Maybe tomorrow?"
"Mm. Sleepy?"
"I think I need you to cuddle me to sleep like right now."
"I'm pretty sure I can manage that," Roger said, gently urging Andy to his feet. "C'mon, cutie. Bedtime."