Watchmen fic: God's Lonely Man
Title: God's Lonely Man
Characters: 63!Jon (Jane), 63!Laurie (Larry).
Rating: Mature but not explicit, gen.
Word count: 1106
Summary: In which Larry walks out on his girlfriend.
===
Jane is warm and smooth and perfect, but her expression is never quite right. She no longer expresses pleasure during sex in the way that she used to. Perhaps she forgets, but that's impossible, because Jane forgets nothing. It's more likely that she simply doesn't care. Or she does care, but she no longer understands. That's the problem with her: there's just no way of knowing. Larry has another one of those nasty moments where he's reminded that he's not making love to a woman, but a woman-shaped thing, and then he immediately feels guilty for thinking of her like that. She's a person. She's just not a person that he recognizes anymore.
He feels another pair of hands caressing his ass, and he jumps out of his skin. When he looks over his shoulder, there's no-one there.
"What the hell was that?" he asks.
"Sorry," says Jane. "I thought you'd like it."
Larry bites his tongue and doesn't argue. He tries to find his rhythm again, but can't.
Eventually, he gives up and stops thrusting into her, making her look at him with that inscrutable gaze of hers. Jane doesn't have a thousand-yard stare; no, her stare can see for fuckin' light-years.
"Why have you stopped?" Jane asks.
Larry pulls out, letting go of her hips. He's still depressingly hard, but he knows that'll pass in time - because, god, if Jane's blank expression can't kill his erection, then nothing can. "I just, uh. Look. This isn't working."
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing. Oh, fuck it, I'm sorry, I can't do this right now..." he says, and wanders away from the bed, hunting for his cigarettes. "I don't feel too great."
She sits up and watches him patiently. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
"I just... Sometimes it's like you're not..." Larry doesn't finish the sentence, because he feels like such a shitty human being.
"Is it my body?" she asks, and cups her perfect breasts. "I can change it, if you like. Am I too thin? Not thin enough? Would you like me to appear younger or older?"
God, that is weird. "No," Larry says. "I just want you to be you, okay?" Whatever that means. Where the fuck are his cigarettes? He thought he left them in his coat pocket. Maybe he smoked them all without realizing it. He knows he needs to cut down, but he keeps searching anyway - hell, while he's looking for his smokes, he might as well search for the bottle of malt that he keeps stashed away, too. Then he can get a head start on having a nervous breakdown and ending up an alcoholic just like his dad. That would be fantastic.
Jane observes him.
She seems so eager to please him - well, not eager, since Jane is never eager about anything these days, but... She seems to mean well. Larry has the world's most powerful entity dedicated to pleasing his every whim. Some men would love that, but Larry isn't so sure. Granted, he can be selfish, but he's not that selfish. Or perhaps he is that selfish, because right now he's thinking about leaving the base just to get away from her empty eyes. He doesn't know. His head is all mixed up.
If there's one small mercy, it's that she doesn't look upset.
Larry must have left his cigarettes in the laboratory while he was in there earlier, listening to her talk about isotopes or whatever. He's not a dumb guy, even if people tend to dismiss him as a macho idiot, and he used to enjoy it when Jane would talk to him about scientific shit. These days, he tends to zone out whenever Jane starts talking about physics. He's not quite sure when or how the novelty wore off.
He opens the door to the laboratory.
Inside the laboratory, there's another Jane, although this one has her back to him and she's more interested in the experiment that she seems to be in the middle of.
She doesn't immediately turn around to face him; no, there's a good delay of at least three seconds before she bothers to look up.
"Jane," Larry says, very slowly. "What're you doing?" He knows that some women compile grocery lists during particularly boring sex, but this is taking it to an entirely new level.
"You must understand," she replies. "I'm at a very important stage."
Well. Women are good at multi-tasking, right? Larry could hit her - but he doesn't, because he's not like that, and his father always told him to watch his temper because he's a gentleman, not a monster. Then it occurs to him that he probably couldn't hit her if he wanted to. "Why would you... Have you been in here the whole time?"
"No," says Jane, as if she's some sort of sweet-natured kindergarten teacher who's trying to teach him the alphabet. "I was with you in the bedroom, as well."
Larry stares at her.
"I wanted you to be satisfied," Jane says, mildly.
"Jesus Christ, I'm a person, not some sort of animal who only cares about his dick." Well, he does care about his dick, but when you're thirty five years old you need more than that. He's never screwed around behind Jane's back, despite the media's speculations about his fidelity - people seem to think that 'sex symbol' is synonymous with 'playboy' and it's true that there's been no shortage of opportunities for tomcatting around, but Larry isn't like his father and he genuinely cares about Jane, even if his original motivation for hooking up with her was because he was a horny sixteen year-old she had the most spectacular big blue tits he'd ever seen in his life. (Hell, they were the only big blue tits he'd seen in his life.) Now he loves her. Sort of. Actually, he's not sure. But it breaks his heart, regardless.
Sixteen years old. He met her when he was sixteen years old. They've been together nineteen years, and this is what it comes down to: pity fucks from a supernatural entity.
He returns to the bedroom to get dressed.
"If there is a problem with my attitude, I'm willing to discuss it," says the Jane clone that still sits on the bed.
Larry is too angry and ashamed to look at her. He feels like an idiot.
He storms out of their apartment. He doesn't know where he's going, but Danielle springs to mind. He likes her as a friend, so it shouldn't feel like cheating, and he doubts that Jane would give a shit either way.
Characters: 63!Jon (Jane), 63!Laurie (Larry).
Rating: Mature but not explicit, gen.
Word count: 1106
Summary: In which Larry walks out on his girlfriend.
===
Jane is warm and smooth and perfect, but her expression is never quite right. She no longer expresses pleasure during sex in the way that she used to. Perhaps she forgets, but that's impossible, because Jane forgets nothing. It's more likely that she simply doesn't care. Or she does care, but she no longer understands. That's the problem with her: there's just no way of knowing. Larry has another one of those nasty moments where he's reminded that he's not making love to a woman, but a woman-shaped thing, and then he immediately feels guilty for thinking of her like that. She's a person. She's just not a person that he recognizes anymore.
He feels another pair of hands caressing his ass, and he jumps out of his skin. When he looks over his shoulder, there's no-one there.
"What the hell was that?" he asks.
"Sorry," says Jane. "I thought you'd like it."
Larry bites his tongue and doesn't argue. He tries to find his rhythm again, but can't.
Eventually, he gives up and stops thrusting into her, making her look at him with that inscrutable gaze of hers. Jane doesn't have a thousand-yard stare; no, her stare can see for fuckin' light-years.
"Why have you stopped?" Jane asks.
Larry pulls out, letting go of her hips. He's still depressingly hard, but he knows that'll pass in time - because, god, if Jane's blank expression can't kill his erection, then nothing can. "I just, uh. Look. This isn't working."
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing. Oh, fuck it, I'm sorry, I can't do this right now..." he says, and wanders away from the bed, hunting for his cigarettes. "I don't feel too great."
She sits up and watches him patiently. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
"I just... Sometimes it's like you're not..." Larry doesn't finish the sentence, because he feels like such a shitty human being.
"Is it my body?" she asks, and cups her perfect breasts. "I can change it, if you like. Am I too thin? Not thin enough? Would you like me to appear younger or older?"
God, that is weird. "No," Larry says. "I just want you to be you, okay?" Whatever that means. Where the fuck are his cigarettes? He thought he left them in his coat pocket. Maybe he smoked them all without realizing it. He knows he needs to cut down, but he keeps searching anyway - hell, while he's looking for his smokes, he might as well search for the bottle of malt that he keeps stashed away, too. Then he can get a head start on having a nervous breakdown and ending up an alcoholic just like his dad. That would be fantastic.
Jane observes him.
She seems so eager to please him - well, not eager, since Jane is never eager about anything these days, but... She seems to mean well. Larry has the world's most powerful entity dedicated to pleasing his every whim. Some men would love that, but Larry isn't so sure. Granted, he can be selfish, but he's not that selfish. Or perhaps he is that selfish, because right now he's thinking about leaving the base just to get away from her empty eyes. He doesn't know. His head is all mixed up.
If there's one small mercy, it's that she doesn't look upset.
Larry must have left his cigarettes in the laboratory while he was in there earlier, listening to her talk about isotopes or whatever. He's not a dumb guy, even if people tend to dismiss him as a macho idiot, and he used to enjoy it when Jane would talk to him about scientific shit. These days, he tends to zone out whenever Jane starts talking about physics. He's not quite sure when or how the novelty wore off.
He opens the door to the laboratory.
Inside the laboratory, there's another Jane, although this one has her back to him and she's more interested in the experiment that she seems to be in the middle of.
She doesn't immediately turn around to face him; no, there's a good delay of at least three seconds before she bothers to look up.
"Jane," Larry says, very slowly. "What're you doing?" He knows that some women compile grocery lists during particularly boring sex, but this is taking it to an entirely new level.
"You must understand," she replies. "I'm at a very important stage."
Well. Women are good at multi-tasking, right? Larry could hit her - but he doesn't, because he's not like that, and his father always told him to watch his temper because he's a gentleman, not a monster. Then it occurs to him that he probably couldn't hit her if he wanted to. "Why would you... Have you been in here the whole time?"
"No," says Jane, as if she's some sort of sweet-natured kindergarten teacher who's trying to teach him the alphabet. "I was with you in the bedroom, as well."
Larry stares at her.
"I wanted you to be satisfied," Jane says, mildly.
"Jesus Christ, I'm a person, not some sort of animal who only cares about his dick." Well, he does care about his dick, but when you're thirty five years old you need more than that. He's never screwed around behind Jane's back, despite the media's speculations about his fidelity - people seem to think that 'sex symbol' is synonymous with 'playboy' and it's true that there's been no shortage of opportunities for tomcatting around, but Larry isn't like his father and he genuinely cares about Jane, even if his original motivation for hooking up with her was because he was a horny sixteen year-old she had the most spectacular big blue tits he'd ever seen in his life. (Hell, they were the only big blue tits he'd seen in his life.) Now he loves her. Sort of. Actually, he's not sure. But it breaks his heart, regardless.
Sixteen years old. He met her when he was sixteen years old. They've been together nineteen years, and this is what it comes down to: pity fucks from a supernatural entity.
He returns to the bedroom to get dressed.
"If there is a problem with my attitude, I'm willing to discuss it," says the Jane clone that still sits on the bed.
Larry is too angry and ashamed to look at her. He feels like an idiot.
He storms out of their apartment. He doesn't know where he's going, but Danielle springs to mind. He likes her as a friend, so it shouldn't feel like cheating, and he doubts that Jane would give a shit either way.