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Do It Like A Whore (Just Business) Chapter 22
Author: war_of_ataraxis
Pairing: Ville/Bam
Rating: Varying
Summary: Ville is a street whore, running low on business for the night, when a cute guy in a nice car offers to pay him for his company. Ville accepts, and goes home with him - how much does this cute stranger have in mind, and how much is Ville willing to give?
Disclaimer: Do not own, don't sue me, I have no money, and god knows there are better things to arrest me for.
Previous chapters and writing archive found at love_sex_angst
The house was empty again, and I was still nervous about Ryan showing up. Maybe for once I would even have a drink to calm my nerves; I couldn't stop jumping at every little sound, thinking that every car flying down the road was his.
I didn't know why I was so nervous, as long as I kept my mouth shut, nothing bad would come out.
But what if he did find out? Would he hate me? Not want me to be with Bam?
I gritted my nervously chattering teeth and looked around the living room at the pictures I'd seen a hundred times; a picture of Bam and his family, Bam as a kid.
Something told me his mother had decorated and Bam didn't want to take anything down. I finally stood from the couch, unable to stand sitting and wandered to Bam's DVD collection, stacked in clumsy piles on his entertainment system shelves. My eyes stopped and rested on a DVD case emblazoned with his name. On the front was a picture of who I could only assume was him, jumping over a huge gap. I stared in amazement at it, and then picked up another one random case shoved to the back.
"CKY?" I read out loud, my eyes grazing over the cover. "How many videos has he been in?" Assuming it was another skating movie, I put it back in its place, reaching for another one. I had barely picked it up when I heard three sharp taps sound on the door.
Deserting the unexamined movies I rushed to the door, opening it up quickly. Ryan stood there, holding a six-pack in one hand. "'Ey man, how you holdin' up?" he asked, stepping inside without much of an invitation; I only shrugged and closed the door behind him, following him into the living room.
"Fine," I said simply, though really I was so lonely already that it was eating me up inside. I couldn't imagine making it through another day without him, but maybe tonight would help to ease it.
Ryan sank onto the couch, automatically grabbing a bottle of beer and cracking it open. He offered me one and I reluctantly took it, holding it in my hands without opening it.
"What're we doing?" I asked, watching him shrug.
"Dunno. Keeping each other company? Talking."
He flashed me a look that meant the latter was mainly the purpose of his visit. It wasn't to have a good time, it was so he could interrogate me without Bam around. Suddenly I felt small and afraid, suspicious of all of his motives even though he nonchalantly sipped at his beer.
"That's... that's cool."
He raised his eyebrow at my stutter. "You okay?"
"Yeah... I - I gotta go to the bathroom. Be right back."
I got up, placing the unopened bottle on the table and heading off quickly. Once locked into the bathroom (as if I feared he would burst in and begin the questioning right away, I looked shakily into the mirror, pulling roughly at my hair as if to straighten the small bits of curls there.
I was nervous; it was almost as if I was afraid of this man sitting out on the couch. He was Bam's friend - hell, maybe even his best friend... and what if he found out?
I tried to stall the panicked look that came across my face.
He could probably make Bam hate me...
My whole body shook and I took deep breaths. All the things I'd done in my life and this was what scared me the most out of everything: Facing Bam's best friend.
The countless junkies that had harassed me in the middle of the night, the man that had beaten me within an inch of my life when I was eighteen, Maxwell's beatings. None of that mattered as much as that person sitting out in the living room and his intentions.
Because now I have something to live for. Now I have something to lose. Where would I be if I lost Bam?
I tried to control my racing mind, sinking onto the closed toilet lid, clutching handfuls of my hair in the exaggerated nervous habit. Tonight could go two ways, but really I could only see it going the worst of ways. I was scared to death, shaking; the last thing I wanted to do was go back out there and face him and whatever he had to say or ask.
I had no other options.
I realized that I'd been locked in here with my thoughts for what would seem far too long to the outside world, so I tugged nervously at my hair again and unlocked the door, breathing deeply again before I walked into the living room.
Ryan now sat, watching TV working on his second beer from the looks of it. I sat down and he looked at me pointedly. "You ever seen this episode?"
I shook my head, not even knowing what the show was.
"Ah, me either. Honestly, I don't even know what the fuck this show is."
We shared a stupid laugh and I leaned over to pick up my beer off the table, running my finger lazily around the edge of the cap.
"You okay?" he asked again and I just gave my usual non-vocal response.
"You know, you're not Bam's usual type," he stated suddenly, and I looked up at him, furrowing his eyebrows as he studied me intently.
"Oh?"
He nodded, taking another swig to finish off his bottle. "He usually likes the loud, outgoing ones. More like him... You're all... quiet 'n shit."
I didn't respond, though my mouth twisted into an unsure expression. His shoulders raised in a shrug. "But he's always been a bit unpredictable, ya know."
I nodded though, really, my experience with Bam had been rather short.
"Well, uh, do you have a job?" he asked.
"No... I did, sorta. But not anymore," somehow the words tumbled out before I could quite comprehend how they would lead to questions - I hadn't always been the brightest and it was like I had just set myself up for the worst kind of question; the one he asked next.
"Sorta?" he left out a gruff laugh, leaning forward to grab another beer from the case. I quickly opened mine, out of nervousness twisting the cap in a rush and spilling some of it on my leg.
Ryan seemed not to notice, just opened and drank a bit of his before continuing. "So, how did you sorta have a job?"
I laughed nervously, taking a drink from my own bottle, making a face at the bitter taste I despised and then another.
"So where did you sorta work?"
"I - uh... I..."
Think, Ville, think.
"Around, ya know. Here and there." I hoped that would stall him, stop him, anything, but it didn't.
"Ah. Anywhere I would know?" he questioned, noting the squeak in my voice I had failed to control.
"No. Probably not..."
Taking another nonchalant swig of his beer, he just smiled. "Try me, man."
Author: war_of_ataraxis
Pairing: Ville/Bam
Rating: Varying
Summary: Ville is a street whore, running low on business for the night, when a cute guy in a nice car offers to pay him for his company. Ville accepts, and goes home with him - how much does this cute stranger have in mind, and how much is Ville willing to give?
Disclaimer: Do not own, don't sue me, I have no money, and god knows there are better things to arrest me for.
Previous chapters and writing archive found at love_sex_angst
The house was empty again, and I was still nervous about Ryan showing up. Maybe for once I would even have a drink to calm my nerves; I couldn't stop jumping at every little sound, thinking that every car flying down the road was his.
I didn't know why I was so nervous, as long as I kept my mouth shut, nothing bad would come out.
But what if he did find out? Would he hate me? Not want me to be with Bam?
I gritted my nervously chattering teeth and looked around the living room at the pictures I'd seen a hundred times; a picture of Bam and his family, Bam as a kid.
Something told me his mother had decorated and Bam didn't want to take anything down. I finally stood from the couch, unable to stand sitting and wandered to Bam's DVD collection, stacked in clumsy piles on his entertainment system shelves. My eyes stopped and rested on a DVD case emblazoned with his name. On the front was a picture of who I could only assume was him, jumping over a huge gap. I stared in amazement at it, and then picked up another one random case shoved to the back.
"CKY?" I read out loud, my eyes grazing over the cover. "How many videos has he been in?" Assuming it was another skating movie, I put it back in its place, reaching for another one. I had barely picked it up when I heard three sharp taps sound on the door.
Deserting the unexamined movies I rushed to the door, opening it up quickly. Ryan stood there, holding a six-pack in one hand. "'Ey man, how you holdin' up?" he asked, stepping inside without much of an invitation; I only shrugged and closed the door behind him, following him into the living room.
"Fine," I said simply, though really I was so lonely already that it was eating me up inside. I couldn't imagine making it through another day without him, but maybe tonight would help to ease it.
Ryan sank onto the couch, automatically grabbing a bottle of beer and cracking it open. He offered me one and I reluctantly took it, holding it in my hands without opening it.
"What're we doing?" I asked, watching him shrug.
"Dunno. Keeping each other company? Talking."
He flashed me a look that meant the latter was mainly the purpose of his visit. It wasn't to have a good time, it was so he could interrogate me without Bam around. Suddenly I felt small and afraid, suspicious of all of his motives even though he nonchalantly sipped at his beer.
"That's... that's cool."
He raised his eyebrow at my stutter. "You okay?"
"Yeah... I - I gotta go to the bathroom. Be right back."
I got up, placing the unopened bottle on the table and heading off quickly. Once locked into the bathroom (as if I feared he would burst in and begin the questioning right away, I looked shakily into the mirror, pulling roughly at my hair as if to straighten the small bits of curls there.
I was nervous; it was almost as if I was afraid of this man sitting out on the couch. He was Bam's friend - hell, maybe even his best friend... and what if he found out?
I tried to stall the panicked look that came across my face.
He could probably make Bam hate me...
My whole body shook and I took deep breaths. All the things I'd done in my life and this was what scared me the most out of everything: Facing Bam's best friend.
The countless junkies that had harassed me in the middle of the night, the man that had beaten me within an inch of my life when I was eighteen, Maxwell's beatings. None of that mattered as much as that person sitting out in the living room and his intentions.
Because now I have something to live for. Now I have something to lose. Where would I be if I lost Bam?
I tried to control my racing mind, sinking onto the closed toilet lid, clutching handfuls of my hair in the exaggerated nervous habit. Tonight could go two ways, but really I could only see it going the worst of ways. I was scared to death, shaking; the last thing I wanted to do was go back out there and face him and whatever he had to say or ask.
I had no other options.
I realized that I'd been locked in here with my thoughts for what would seem far too long to the outside world, so I tugged nervously at my hair again and unlocked the door, breathing deeply again before I walked into the living room.
Ryan now sat, watching TV working on his second beer from the looks of it. I sat down and he looked at me pointedly. "You ever seen this episode?"
I shook my head, not even knowing what the show was.
"Ah, me either. Honestly, I don't even know what the fuck this show is."
We shared a stupid laugh and I leaned over to pick up my beer off the table, running my finger lazily around the edge of the cap.
"You okay?" he asked again and I just gave my usual non-vocal response.
"You know, you're not Bam's usual type," he stated suddenly, and I looked up at him, furrowing his eyebrows as he studied me intently.
"Oh?"
He nodded, taking another swig to finish off his bottle. "He usually likes the loud, outgoing ones. More like him... You're all... quiet 'n shit."
I didn't respond, though my mouth twisted into an unsure expression. His shoulders raised in a shrug. "But he's always been a bit unpredictable, ya know."
I nodded though, really, my experience with Bam had been rather short.
"Well, uh, do you have a job?" he asked.
"No... I did, sorta. But not anymore," somehow the words tumbled out before I could quite comprehend how they would lead to questions - I hadn't always been the brightest and it was like I had just set myself up for the worst kind of question; the one he asked next.
"Sorta?" he left out a gruff laugh, leaning forward to grab another beer from the case. I quickly opened mine, out of nervousness twisting the cap in a rush and spilling some of it on my leg.
Ryan seemed not to notice, just opened and drank a bit of his before continuing. "So, how did you sorta have a job?"
I laughed nervously, taking a drink from my own bottle, making a face at the bitter taste I despised and then another.
"So where did you sorta work?"
"I - uh... I..."
Think, Ville, think.
"Around, ya know. Here and there." I hoped that would stall him, stop him, anything, but it didn't.
"Ah. Anywhere I would know?" he questioned, noting the squeak in my voice I had failed to control.
"No. Probably not..."
Taking another nonchalant swig of his beer, he just smiled. "Try me, man."