muse_bsides: Track 9: One Direction - Rated R
Muse: Cain Callahan
Fandom: Supernatural (OC)
Track: One Direction
Artist: Mother Superior
Album: DEEP
Summary: It's hard enough kicking the habit, but it's even harder when she doesn't believe he's not fiending again.
Rating: R for language and drug references
Word Count: 785
Notes: Takes place shortly after Cain's sixteenth birthday, and only about six weeks after Cain's last encounter with heroin. After detoxing when he first came to Felicia, he got high at least once again after that, at which time Felicia forced Cain to swear off drugs.
* * * * * *
You’ve got but one direction, yeah
All this for one injection, yeah
oh yeah...
“Cain, go to your room and get into bed.”
“Fuck you.”
“Okay, once you’re *vertical* again? You’re not leaving this house for a week. Go to your room *now.*”
Sixteen year old Cain Abrams narrowed his eyes at his mother, reaching up with one hand to wipe away the cold sweat gathering on his brow. “No.”
Felicia Callahan sighed, rubbing her forehead in a weary, frustrated gesture that Cain had gotten used to months ago, but didn’t like seeing now that he was finally starting to feel good about the changes he was making...keeping the promises he’d made to her.
“Cain, if you’ve been using again, I won’t--”
Real anger overtook the usual surly expression Cain wore as he leaned heavily against the door jamb. “What?! Is that why you got such a bug up yer butt, you think I’m using again?!”
“Sweetheart, I understand--”
“No, you don’t understand *dick.* I promised you I wasn’t gonna touch that shit again!!” Cain snapped angrily, not caring that he swayed on his feet as he pushed off the doorframe to advance on her. “And I didn’t come out here to get accused of shit I ain’t doin’.”
“Then why did the school send you home early, Cain?”
She really didn’t believe him. She thought he’d been doing smack again, and the fever currently wracking his body couldn’t have made Cain’s blood boil any hotter.
Rather than tell her why he was home, Cain pushed his point home. “I wanted to...I even got offered last week.” he admitted through clenched teeth. “But I didn’t...you made me promise. So I promised...no more drugs. I ain’t taken shit stronger ‘n an aspirin since then. And if you don’t believe me? Then I don’t care how long you ground me or how much chores I gotta do, *fuck* you and the horse you rode in on.”
He was satisfied by the mildly astonished look on her face, and secretly he hoped that he’d hurt her, or that he could later on. If he screwed up, he got the riot act, and when he didn’t? He *still* got the riot act. She kept talking about how she wanted to help, wanted to be his family, but when it came right down to it-
“You take it very seriously, don’t you? Your word?”
Cain was starting to get a little bit scared about how bad he felt when he realized she was now right in front of him and touching his cheek with her hand, smoothing her fingers over his brow in a way that made his throat want to close up and his chest tight with something warm and achy...the same way he felt when he saw some of the kids at school around their folks.
“I don’t break promises.” he replied stubbornly. “You said it ain’t easy kickin’ a habit...it ain’t. But I’m tryin’. And it’s harder when you don’t fuckin’ believe me.”
For a moment Felicia just looked at him, then in a move that was only mildly surprising after nearly ten months under her care, embraced him. Cain didn’t want to react...but in the end he just felt so miserable that he turned his face into her neck. She smelled like Ivory soap and some kind of perfume, and for a split second Cain recognized how he felt: the moment he sometimes had when he got high. That feeling of warmth, of comfort and safety without the unpleasant muzziness...
“Cain, if you’re not in withdrawal, why did you get sent home early?”
“Fever.” Cain replied against her skin, unwilling to move from the circle of her arms...he didn’t care how big a wuss it made him, he was *done.* “Was at 105 when I left school. Broke a little bit ago...s’why I’m so gross.”
“My God...why didn’t you call me, sweetheart?”
Cain shrugged, rolling his eyes. “I bussed it home...ain’t no thing, Ma.”
Felicia blanched a little, but smiled a moment later. “What did you call me?”
He had to stop and think for a minute before he realized what he’d done...then smiled himself.
And reared back to throw up right at Felicia’s feet.
Letting out a yelp, Felicia dissolved into laughter a moment later, patting Cain’s shoulder. “My poor baby...go take a cool bath, or a shower if you think you’re up to it and get into bed. I’ll bring you some ginger ale and the TV.”
Wiping his mouth, Cain just nodded and moved to do as he was told...for once, he wasn’t going to argue with his mom.
Fandom: Supernatural (OC)
Track: One Direction
Artist: Mother Superior
Album: DEEP
Summary: It's hard enough kicking the habit, but it's even harder when she doesn't believe he's not fiending again.
Rating: R for language and drug references
Word Count: 785
Notes: Takes place shortly after Cain's sixteenth birthday, and only about six weeks after Cain's last encounter with heroin. After detoxing when he first came to Felicia, he got high at least once again after that, at which time Felicia forced Cain to swear off drugs.
* * * * * *
You’ve got but one direction, yeah
All this for one injection, yeah
oh yeah...
“Cain, go to your room and get into bed.”
“Fuck you.”
“Okay, once you’re *vertical* again? You’re not leaving this house for a week. Go to your room *now.*”
Sixteen year old Cain Abrams narrowed his eyes at his mother, reaching up with one hand to wipe away the cold sweat gathering on his brow. “No.”
Felicia Callahan sighed, rubbing her forehead in a weary, frustrated gesture that Cain had gotten used to months ago, but didn’t like seeing now that he was finally starting to feel good about the changes he was making...keeping the promises he’d made to her.
“Cain, if you’ve been using again, I won’t--”
Real anger overtook the usual surly expression Cain wore as he leaned heavily against the door jamb. “What?! Is that why you got such a bug up yer butt, you think I’m using again?!”
“Sweetheart, I understand--”
“No, you don’t understand *dick.* I promised you I wasn’t gonna touch that shit again!!” Cain snapped angrily, not caring that he swayed on his feet as he pushed off the doorframe to advance on her. “And I didn’t come out here to get accused of shit I ain’t doin’.”
“Then why did the school send you home early, Cain?”
She really didn’t believe him. She thought he’d been doing smack again, and the fever currently wracking his body couldn’t have made Cain’s blood boil any hotter.
Rather than tell her why he was home, Cain pushed his point home. “I wanted to...I even got offered last week.” he admitted through clenched teeth. “But I didn’t...you made me promise. So I promised...no more drugs. I ain’t taken shit stronger ‘n an aspirin since then. And if you don’t believe me? Then I don’t care how long you ground me or how much chores I gotta do, *fuck* you and the horse you rode in on.”
He was satisfied by the mildly astonished look on her face, and secretly he hoped that he’d hurt her, or that he could later on. If he screwed up, he got the riot act, and when he didn’t? He *still* got the riot act. She kept talking about how she wanted to help, wanted to be his family, but when it came right down to it-
“You take it very seriously, don’t you? Your word?”
Cain was starting to get a little bit scared about how bad he felt when he realized she was now right in front of him and touching his cheek with her hand, smoothing her fingers over his brow in a way that made his throat want to close up and his chest tight with something warm and achy...the same way he felt when he saw some of the kids at school around their folks.
“I don’t break promises.” he replied stubbornly. “You said it ain’t easy kickin’ a habit...it ain’t. But I’m tryin’. And it’s harder when you don’t fuckin’ believe me.”
For a moment Felicia just looked at him, then in a move that was only mildly surprising after nearly ten months under her care, embraced him. Cain didn’t want to react...but in the end he just felt so miserable that he turned his face into her neck. She smelled like Ivory soap and some kind of perfume, and for a split second Cain recognized how he felt: the moment he sometimes had when he got high. That feeling of warmth, of comfort and safety without the unpleasant muzziness...
“Cain, if you’re not in withdrawal, why did you get sent home early?”
“Fever.” Cain replied against her skin, unwilling to move from the circle of her arms...he didn’t care how big a wuss it made him, he was *done.* “Was at 105 when I left school. Broke a little bit ago...s’why I’m so gross.”
“My God...why didn’t you call me, sweetheart?”
Cain shrugged, rolling his eyes. “I bussed it home...ain’t no thing, Ma.”
Felicia blanched a little, but smiled a moment later. “What did you call me?”
He had to stop and think for a minute before he realized what he’d done...then smiled himself.
And reared back to throw up right at Felicia’s feet.
Letting out a yelp, Felicia dissolved into laughter a moment later, patting Cain’s shoulder. “My poor baby...go take a cool bath, or a shower if you think you’re up to it and get into bed. I’ll bring you some ginger ale and the TV.”
Wiping his mouth, Cain just nodded and moved to do as he was told...for once, he wasn’t going to argue with his mom.