Prompt 4 - vocoder
Title: Life As Expected
Pairing: Tim Kasher/Conor Oberst, Conor Oberst/Mike Mogis
Rating: R for language
Prompt: 4 - vocoder
Summary: "That was revenge for finding out about Kimberly and Tim's engagement through his brother."
Word Count: 341
Disclaimer
Notes: Part of a loosely bound bunch of vignettes. First part is here.
There's something wrong with his voice, Conor realizes, as it slides through the phone. It sounds robotic. Mechanic like some part of it has been fed through a vocoder. It's not right.
"Are you okay?" He asks, not expecting an honest answer. Honesty rarely transmits well through wires, with them. (See other sentences they've exchanged over the phone: "No, I didn't sleep with him," "Of course I'm sober; it's a Wednesday," and their shared favourite, "I believe you.")
"Yeah," Tim says, distracted and cold. Conor almost never hears him like this.
He thinks maybe he made a mess of things. But really, Tim has Kimberly to go to bed with, most nights - the nights he doesn't spend at their apartment, the nights that have been happening more and more often. Why shouldn't Conor have someone like that?
(Alright, he'll admit to himself a while later, it didn't have to be Mike. He'd been friends with Tim since their first year of high school (before Conor even got to that school). And he could have told Tim they were 'dating' or fucking or whatever it was, instead of letting the man find out for himself. But that was revenge for finding out about Kimberly and Tim's engagement through his brother.)
There is a long lull in conversation. Long. "I'm staying here tonight," Tim says, a bit shortly. "She wants me to move in with her next week."
And that was something new. They'd never talked about it. He knew Tim would move out, of course he would, he was getting married, and holy fuck, where was that bottle. He'd had a mickey of Jameson's somewhere, and a glass, and the glass was empty. He needed more. He needed more time than a week and he needed to be more drunk and now he hasn't talked in too long and Tim will know just how upset this makes him, how much he wants to yell and swear and -
"I'll be home tomorrow morning," Tim says.
Conor says nothing.
"Goodnight." The older man murmurs, and hangs up.
Conor calls Mike.
Pairing: Tim Kasher/Conor Oberst, Conor Oberst/Mike Mogis
Rating: R for language
Prompt: 4 - vocoder
Summary: "That was revenge for finding out about Kimberly and Tim's engagement through his brother."
Word Count: 341
Disclaimer
Notes: Part of a loosely bound bunch of vignettes. First part is here.
There's something wrong with his voice, Conor realizes, as it slides through the phone. It sounds robotic. Mechanic like some part of it has been fed through a vocoder. It's not right.
"Are you okay?" He asks, not expecting an honest answer. Honesty rarely transmits well through wires, with them. (See other sentences they've exchanged over the phone: "No, I didn't sleep with him," "Of course I'm sober; it's a Wednesday," and their shared favourite, "I believe you.")
"Yeah," Tim says, distracted and cold. Conor almost never hears him like this.
He thinks maybe he made a mess of things. But really, Tim has Kimberly to go to bed with, most nights - the nights he doesn't spend at their apartment, the nights that have been happening more and more often. Why shouldn't Conor have someone like that?
(Alright, he'll admit to himself a while later, it didn't have to be Mike. He'd been friends with Tim since their first year of high school (before Conor even got to that school). And he could have told Tim they were 'dating' or fucking or whatever it was, instead of letting the man find out for himself. But that was revenge for finding out about Kimberly and Tim's engagement through his brother.)
There is a long lull in conversation. Long. "I'm staying here tonight," Tim says, a bit shortly. "She wants me to move in with her next week."
And that was something new. They'd never talked about it. He knew Tim would move out, of course he would, he was getting married, and holy fuck, where was that bottle. He'd had a mickey of Jameson's somewhere, and a glass, and the glass was empty. He needed more. He needed more time than a week and he needed to be more drunk and now he hasn't talked in too long and Tim will know just how upset this makes him, how much he wants to yell and swear and -
"I'll be home tomorrow morning," Tim says.
Conor says nothing.
"Goodnight." The older man murmurs, and hangs up.
Conor calls Mike.