Vince Makes E Good
Maybe Vince is still tripping.
Well, yeah, he knows that, he was seeing firefighters, after all, and also, he knows, because he watched himself eat more - with his own hands! - and somehow convinced Eric to eat another of those sandwiches too. Vince wishes he could have had one of those sandwiches. They looked good.
When one was on shrooms, they started appreciating everything. At least Vince did. He appreciated the walls of this Winnebago, especially as he slowly ran his hands up one of the sides and admired his fingers, because they had learned how to ice skate up walls, somehow. He also liked this chair he was sitting in. Because without it, he would be sitting on the floor. The seat is sparkling somehow, and once Vince is done feeling up the wall, he does with the seat instead, skating his fingers into the plush of the seat. Man, he loves this seat.
Mushrooms also make Vince appreciate E.
Man, he loves E too.
E is kind of glowing under Winnebago lights. He breathes in and out and looks up at the ceiling, hands in his lap and mouth blissfully shut again. He looks like a cherub. No, cherubs are too gay. Kids are too pedophile. Leprechauns are too Ari. Vince doesn't know what E looks like, but it's E, looking like something, and Vince stares him down like he can somehow find all the answers just by looking at him. It could happen. Vince is a believer. And while the seat was still sparkly, E was still glowing, and Vince wanted to touch his glow.
That sounded weird. How did someone touch a glow?
"How do you touch a glow?" he asked aloud then, and would have been fine with a few stares, but Johnny is asleep, and Turtle is asleep, and he thinks Eric Roberts might be asleep but the bus is moving so maybe he's not asleep. Ari would be asleep but he's getting yelled at by a lady, his wife, Mrs. Ari, so he's left with E - E who's still awake, still sitting cross-legged in his seat, quiet and full of peace and staring at a smattering of M&M's left on the table.
E looks over at him then, away from M&M's, and smiles again, short and sweet and there's no teeth but Vince feels warm, at home. "E, can I ask you something?" And E pauses, before he nods exactly twice. "Come into the bathroom with me, I want to ask you something in the bathroom."
Vince rolls off his seat that he's somehow gotten around to sitting upside down on, head hanging over the edge and curls going for the floor, and by the time they're in this tiny little Winnebago bathroom, Vince doesn't know what he wants to ask him anymore, he just knows E locks the door behind him, very precisely, before looking back at Vince with eyes that are kind of wide and questioning. Vince just cups his face and kisses him.
That's not what he wanted to ask him at all. This isn't right.
"This isn't right," he repeats his thoughts out loud, and E has the decency to look confused right now - allowable, as Vince isn't explaining himself very well. He sits the toilet lid shut, and then E onto the toilet lid, and then himself onto E, knees on either side of E's thighs. Hands on his shoulders, forehead ducked against E's own, and E just looks confused as all hell. "I don't like it when you don't talk."
He skims his fingers around E's skin, his shirt sleeves, his hair, a slow and crooked smile starting across his teeth. "I'm doing it." He looks straight into big blue eyes and his smile grows. "I'm feeling your glow." E settles a little, less confused, and watches Vince's fingers as they graze his skin, raising a few goosebumps when they crawl under his shirt and start experimenting. "I don't like it when you don't talk," Vince repeats, before he goes between E's legs, sitting up enough to unzip the guy's khakis. "I'm gonna make you talk."
E stops him, grabs onto his wrist and shoots him a warning stare that tilts his head. Vince makes up a voice in his own head, because it's been so long since E's talked, he doesn't even remember what An Eric sounds like anymore. In his head, it ends up kind of like Sean Connerey. What are you doing, Vinshent?
"I told you, E. I'm gonna make you talk."
That'sh not the besht idea. We're in a moving vehicle.
"Well, yeah, but. You're still not talking."
E looks confused. He's leaning back a little, eyebrow cocked, still holding back Vince's hands. Blow me, Vinshent.
"Okay!" Vince replies, brightly, and E stops, probably because he hasn't said anything, but it's got Vince climbing off, so is this better? Probably not, because Vince goes straight for the zipper, braces his hand against E's chest and runs his fingers up under that t-shirt while he ducks his head into E's lap. It doesn't feel right. It's not E. E talks. This Scottish E is no fun at all, even if he does latch his fingers into Vince's hair and lean back with a sharp enough action that his head slams against the wall. They're lucky everyone's asleep.
He just needs to make E talk, that's all. And then he will be truly E, truly a friend, truly E the Friend That Is Awesome, and then Vince can be awesome. Vince can be a firefighter. So when E grabs onto him harder and grates out a stammered swear or two, Vince feels a million bucks better than when he was doing Benji a few hours ago. E jacks his hips up and braces his free hand against the sink that's constricting much movement, this tiny fucking bathroom that doesn't leave much room for just one person, never mind the two, definitely not for Sean Connerey, but Vince makes it work anyway, and he's got E talking, this is paradise.
A tiny, porta potty'd, cramped paradise. Or something.
"Vince, we can't--Jesus fucking H." Any lesser man wouldn't have been able to stop at this point, and E's certainly not going to be passing it up - it's been a while since he's gotten anything that wasn't by means of his own fist, and it feels pretty goddamn nice. "You--how long have you--" What is he saying? What is he asking?
"Is this because of the Benji thing? Is this you trying to get another--shit." He draws in a breath. "Shit, fucking... sign?"
Vince doesn't answer. Not that E expects him. Because he'd probably punch Vince if he stopped now.
"Is this? Is this just? A one time thing? Like everything..." How can he even make words? This is so weird. His mouth didn't like him just a few minutes ago. Now the fucker was betraying him. "Like everything else?" Vince paints a line up the underside of E's cock and E's definitely grabbing on again, half wondering if he should move to the shirt instead of the hair, he's gonna pull it the fuck out or something, but this feels good and Vince isn't stopping and maybe it's okay.
"Why me? Is this... How many of these have you given? Shauna's going to fucking kill me. Ari's going to fucking kill me. I'm a big, dead E. Not even big. Short, dead E. Getting blown to death." And his hips adjust and Vince presses hands against E's pelvis to hold him in place, to finish off the job because shit's really close right now. "Do you even want to do this? You don't want to do this, you just want to make me--" E gasps and grabs onto the railing on the wall beside him for a brace, shuts his eyes tight and nearly kicks out a foot, he doesn't even know. "--Wanted to make me talk, that's all. That's all this is, I know it."
When he comes undone, it's without much warning, but Vince doesn't miss a beat, just spits into the sink when he's done. E pants like he's just run a fucking marathon, the total opposite of what he was earlier, not quiet and peaceful and considering. Just harried and ranting and unsure of anything. "Jesus Christ, I've practically been in love with you since I was fucking twelve, it's just. You can't do this to me."
Is he tripping? Is Vince tripping? How can you tell? He can't tell. Vince wipes his mouth and looks at him carefully one more time, eyes a little bloodshot, probably from the drugs, E doesn't know. "You have?"
E mops a hand across his forehead again, slaps his cheek to try to sober himself up. It's fucking mushrooms, it's not like he had a couple shots or something, this isn't so easy, he thinks, while he zips up his pants again and curses the world. "Did you hear that? Did I say words out loud?"
Was he here? Where was here?
Vince grins a little, which turns into a smile, which turns into a laugh as he kneels down again, and for one horrifyingly amazing moment, E thinks he's gonna blow him again, but instead he hugs E around the middle, lays his head in E's lap like he's a kid having a nightmare again, slowly drawing circles with his fingers around E's khakis. "I like when you talk," is all he offers as a rebuttal, and E pauses, for a few long seconds, eyes a little wide. That wasn't a yes, by any means, regarding what he said and acknowledging it nicely.
But it wasn't a no either.
"Don't get up," Vince says, a little quiet, and grins again, a little dopey. "Just talk. I told you. I like when you talk."
He's not supposed to be talking. It's just understood. Mushrooms and E means E doesn't talk. But it's Vince, and he's asking real nice, and when E hesitantly touches Vince's hair (this is gay, this is so gay, he doesn't care), he does, about Benji, how he shouldn't do things, about 90210 and cats and his favorite beers and The Dropkick Murphys and whatever Vince will listen to, that he has to say. Because Vince asked him.
Because E may make Vince good, but Vince sure as hell made E good right back.