Watchmen (Super Sentai) Five Kink Meme
Rules of the meme:
1. Anonymously(or not, because we seem to have stopped following this rule) post a pairing and prompt you would like to see written. Since this is a kink meme, there is supposted to be a kink involved, but normal well-written prompts should work just as well.
2. Anonymous will respond to your post and write it for you! Art and such ( Read more... )
“Byron, it’s past six am. You need to sleep. I need to sleep.”
Byron shook his head and carefully, far too timidly, removed Hollis’ hand from his shoulder.
“You can go,” he said. “We’ll be fine.”
But Hollis couldn’t go. He couldn’t leave Byron alone like this; like a ghost keeping vigil at the bed of another with a deathly white grip on a deathly white sheet. Bill had been shot just over a month ago. Few of them had the hope that their friend would survive this -a shot to the head- let alone wake up from it. In the meantime it seemed that hope was all that was keeping Byron going; sheer, almost insane, blind hope.
Hollis sighed wearily and took a seat on the second chair in the corner of the room. He was preparing to spend yet another night there; to eventually fall asleep while pretending not to hear the desperate love Byron swore to Bill when he thought no one could hear or maybe simply no longer cared if anyone did.
Once again it was well into the next morning before Hollis, after only a few hours sleep, could steer Byron away from Bill’s sickbed and somehow got him home. Some mornings Hollis was sure that the only reason Byron complied was because he was too exhausted to fight him.
Then there was the state of Byron’s small apartment which Hollis was pretty sure reflected Byron’s state of mind perfectly. There were empty bottles everywhere; there was chaos. He didn’t want to do this, he really didn’t, but Hollis wasn’t sure whether it wouldn’t be a good idea to stop Byron from patrolling now. He was becoming a danger to himself and others.
But Hollis did no such thing, even though he knew Byron was nowhere near sober when they left that night. He just kept a close eye on Byron, making sure he didn’t get himself or anyone else killed.
And then, a few days later, just when everything seemed to have got stuck in some kind of never-ending gloom, a miracle happened. And it had to be a miracle, because Bill woke up and none of them had expected that to happen anymore.
Things should have taken a turn for the better then. Difficulties were to be expected, but things should have taken a turn for the better. Looking back, though, it was debatable whether they had.
Of course, even among the bustle that had suddenly erupted surrounding Bill, not least caused by his sizeable family, Bill needed rest. And that was when they banned everyone else from Bill’s bedside.
Nelson announced this at the next meeting and HJ had to practically haul Byron off Nelly then. Apparently the notion of not killing the messenger had temporarily fled Byron’s mind, even though Nelly had had the good grace not to fight back.
“He’s out of control,” Nelson ranted later that night, rubbing at a red mark on his chin where Byron had got him pretty good. “I really don’t think it’s safe to let him patrol anymore.”
Hollis sighed and nodded silently. “I’ve been thinking the same, Nelly. Believe me. But honestly, the alternatives scare me.”
Their eyes met on this and it was obvious that an unspoken agreement passed between them. They understood; each other and Byron.
*
Byron wandered through his living room, almost tripped over some misplaced books, because his eyes were inevitably drawn to the calendar on the wall. It had been well over seven months since he’d last seen Bill and Byron thought he might go insane.
Byron had only seen Bill once after Bill had woken up and Byron had walked the tightrope between relief and utter despair. Bill had been barely conscious or responsive. They’d shaved his hair, goddamnit; all that beautiful, thick, dark hair, just gone.
And Byron hadn’t been able to do anything but stand there and stare and feel himself die a little inside. He’d wanted to go to Bill so badly, sit down on the bed; hold his hand; tell him that now everything would be alright. But Bill’s parents had been there and one of his brothers. Hollis had been standing right next to Byron, silent and grave and a nurse was ushering them out almost as soon as they’d arrived.
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He’d never felt this far away from Bill; not once since they’d met. Now, Byron knew he could have long since gone and visited Bill in Kansas; gone to check on him; gone to accept whatever had become of the man he loved. But he couldn’t. Byron knew what consequences the headshot might have had for Bill and he was scared. He was a coward and his own cowardice sickened Byron.
He missed Bill; it was tearing at him in one direction while his fear did so in the other and together it was tearing him apart. Sometimes, when Byron thought like this, he would close his eyes and imagine the next swallow of whisky as fire, slowly burning away the edges of paper lying torn to shreds in a waste paper basket.
It was that imagination Byron was torn out of one afternoon when a loud knock sounded at his door.
Byron ambled over and opened it and for a moment he could just stand there and stare at the man at the door who stared right back.
“Hey, Byron,” Bill said, cocking his head with a half-smile. “Aren’t you gonna let me in?”
Byron nodded, still dumbfounded, but forced himself to unfreeze, letting Bill in and closing the door behind them. Reality hit Byron with the click of the lock and when he turned to face Bill, he was almost sure the other man had been a figment of his imagination. Byron was barely able to control any words that came from his mouth.
“Your hair’s grown back…,” Byron said. His voice cracked violently and then he flung himself at Bill and all the emotions, all those thoughts and unshed tears Byron had collected over the months simply burst forth in sobs that made it almost impossible to breathe.
Distantly, Byron felt Bill’s arms wrap around him and manoeuvre them over to the couch where they sat down.
“I thought you were going to die,” Byron managed to extract from all the chaos inside him, forcing it out between trying to breathe and trying to regain some composure.
Bill’s hand was running through Byron’s hair soothingly and he was making gentle ‘sh’ sounds.
“I didn’t,” Bill said, his voice holding all the strength Byron had been lacking for months now.
“I thought I’d never see you again.”
“I’m here now,” was Bill’s calm reply. “I’m here.”
*
Hours later Byron was still completely incapable of letting Bill out of his sight. He knew it was irrational, but somehow Byron felt that if he did, Bill might disappear again. So it happened that Byron sat on his couch while watching Bill clear away empty bottles. Byron didn’t know why Bill was doing this; he shouldn’t have to. But the atmosphere seemed tense, so he didn’t want to ask.
Having dropped the final bottle in the trash, Bill turned to Byron with an exasperated sigh and a hard stare; a kind of stare, Byron realised when he met Bill’s eyes, he’d never seen on Bill before. Byron couldn’t honestly say that it didn’t worry him and most of all, compelled him to avert his eyes and apologise.
“I’m sorry,” Byron murmured, glancing sideways. “You didn’t have to clear all that up, you know?”
When Bill didn’t respond and only continued to gaze at Byron, Byron forced himself to look up.
“Are you mad at me?”
Bill slowly shook his head and slid onto the couch next to Byron. His arm came up around Byron’s shoulders and he pulled him close.
“No. Just restless,” Bill said with a low sigh.
With a finger, Bill nudged Byron’s chin up. He leant in for a firm kiss before leaning his forehead against Byron’s. They were so close, for the first time in so long that Byron thought his heart might stop dead.
After a moment they pulled further apart just slightly and again, Bill was simply gazing at Byron with eyes that showed an unreadable depth. Byron wasn’t used to that; at all. He’d always been able to read Bill; Bill’s eyes had always been so open, baring his soul. Right now, Byron couldn’t see that. It was gone.
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All of a sudden, Byron realised his entire body had started shaking at the promise of Bill’s touch. He hadn’t felt like this since his very first time and that he reacted like this now was quite startling.
All too soon, though, Bill pulled back and Byron once again found himself faced with Bill’s gaze which told him exactly nothing.
“I need you to quit drinking,” Bill said and there was an authority in his voice that awed Byron. “I’ll be damned if I go on watching you do that to yourself.”
Byron blinked once or twice, silently. After all, what was he to say to that? What, except, well…
“Yes,” Byron breathed, nodding. “I’m sorry,” he added, his words trailing off into a feeling of inadequacy.
Byron felt completely out of his depth and he didn’t know how to deal with it. He’d never felt out of his depth with Bill.
“Don’t be sorry,” Bill murmured. “Be sober.”
Then Bill’s lips were on Byron’s again, on his face, his jaw, his throat. It took a while for Byron to get over his slightly shocked state, but soon any thoughts he might have had left were lost in a whirlwind of pure need and profound relief and happiness. The few moments it took for Byron and Bill to move from the living room to the bedroom were the last they spent not touching for long, blissful hours. Byron slept well that night. For the first time in months he felt complete.
*
Sunlight was shining through the slit in the curtains of Byron’s bedroom the next morning and Byron’s world was fine for about as long as it took him to realise that the bed, the side where Bill had been curled up around him, was empty. Panic welled up inside Byron immediately and his first thought was that he had dreamt up the whole previous day and everything that had happened; all the joy he’d felt at having Bill back.
But slowly, once Byron had jumped up out of bed and run outside to the living room he realised he hadn’t. All the signs of Bill’s presence were still there. Two glasses on the coffee table and an extra plate on the drying rack in the kitchen. Lastly, Bill’s coat still hung over the back of Byron’s couch and Byron picked it up, holding it close for a moment and inhaling Bill’s scent. None of these things, however, changed the fact that Bill was no longer in the apartment. The bathroom had been the first place Byron had checked, out of fear that Bill might have collapsed in there. He’d also checked the fire escape where they used to sit out on hot summer nights. But Bill was nowhere to be found and there was no indication as to where he had gone. No note; nothing.
Worry gnawed at Byron’s insides as he contemplated this and he mentally started making a list of where Bill could be. There were several possibilities. Bill could have gone out to get breakfast, maybe; he could have gone back to his own apartment for a change of clothes; could have gone to head quarters, for some reason. Byron liked all of those options; they all meant that Bill would likely come back. What he did not like was the last option that had entered his mind: that Bill might have just left in the middle of the night or early morning. That maybe, he’d left Byron for good; left him behind. Granted, even to Byron that sounded implausible; it wouldn’t have been like Bill. But over the last few months, Byron had missed Bill too much to be immune to such fears.
Byron stood, still holding Bill’s coat and wondering what he should do. He supposed he should wait for a while, at least, to see if Bill came back. He could get ready for the day in the meantime. Byron did this, forming a plan in his mind. If Bill didn’t come back soon, Byron would check head quarters which lay on the way to Bill’s apartment and hopefully he’d find Bill in one of the two locations.
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“You woke up early,” Byron remarked and it only then occurred to him that that wasn’t anything unusual for Bill. Byron had always assumed that this had something to do with Bill having grown up on a farm.
Bill nodded.
“It’s the light,” he said and he stepped back from the desk where he’d been working.
It was then that Byron saw what Bill had been doing. On the table there lay Bill’s cape, a knife and a pair of scissors and the lower edge of the cape looked terribly jagged and uneven. Bill had been shortening his cape, Byron realised with some astonishment.
“Won’t the bank mind?” Byron asked, moving closer and running his hand along the edge of the fabric. Bill laughed- in a way so untypical for him- and shook his head.
“I quit,” he said.
“What?” Byron exclaimed, turning around to face Bill who was still smiling like he’d not just announced he’d left his job; the one that had provided him with income for years; the one that had nearly got him killed. All of a sudden, Byron thought he understood; he hoped he did, at least. His gaze softened and he nodded.
When after another moment Byron was still gazing at Bill at a loss as to what to say, Bill chuckled and stepped up next to Byron, wrapping an arm around Byron’s shoulders.
“Don’t look so shocked,” Bill said cheerfully. “It’s not the end of the world.”
Byron grimaced a little, though he nodded and pasted on a smile, turning back to look at the mangled cape. Somehow, concerning this topic, Bill’s cheer just seemed wrong. But, Byron supposed, it wasn’t his place to judge Bill’s emotions.
Instead, he again traced the cape’s edge.
“It’s going to fray like this,” Byron said thoughtfully before looking back at Bill who simply stared back at Byron for a moment, as if not really seeing him. Then, Bill grinned and something in that look Bill gave him, something in Bill’s eyes, made Byron’s blood run cold.
Byron swallowed silently and averted his gaze, searching for something else to focus on; a change of topic.
“So, Bill… what are you going to do now?” Byron asked, doing his best to sound conversational.
Bill shrugged and he went over to the desk to start putting away the tools he’d used.
“Dunno yet,” Bill said, shrugging and then he smiled; a genuine, honest-to-God Bill-smile.
“Maybe I’ll coach high school football,” he said. “I’d like that.”
That answer, at least, made Byron smile softly, even though he still felt a little unnerved.
“You’d do great,” Byron said, stepping up to Bill and taking Bill’s hand in his. He gave it a entle squeeze. Yes, Bill really would be great at that.
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*grabs popcorn and blankie and some tissues just in case*
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