28 Steps
28 Steps
By sweetphaex
Fandom: Watchmen
Pairing: Dollar Bill/Mothman (One sided)
Feat: Nite Owl I
Disclaimer: I don’t have a big enough beard to be Allan Moore, so they’re not mine.
Note: Someone prompted this on /co/ so for serious - this is all YOUR FAULT /co/
Byron counted the steps it took to get to Bill's office. There were exactly 28. He counted them the first time he walked down the Minutemen HQ before closing the door quickly to his own office, leaning heavily against it and trying to catch his breath.
The minute he saw Bill aka Dollar Bill his breath felt like it had been blasted from his chest. His easy smile and bright eyes held him captive... like a moth in a bell jar.
Since then he couldn't talk to him, or at least he'd tried but his words tripped over each other so much that he just had to stop and leave. Ever since measured his confidence in how many steps he could walk from his office door to Bills.
Some days it was only one or two steps, some days ten. Some days he didn't make it past his own desk, face down with a tumbler of whiskey in hand. The last time he managed to get as far as 22 before turning tail and crawling back to his office. Half a bottle of scotch later he ended up falling asleep there. He'd done this so many times he feared he was starting to wear the carpet down in the hall way.
One day, he woke up not nearly as hung over as he usually does. The air smelt sweet and the sunlight didn't make his eyes feel like they were going to explode. He strode out his office with confidence, wings flared back and swaying elegantly as he counted each step and not even hesitating as he crossed the threshold between 27 and 28. Bill's door was open a crack and the man in question sat at his desk, opening and reading fan mail.
He smiled as he wrote his letters which were fewer than the others got but at least he could respond personally to each and every one in his own hand writing.
Byron froze at the 28th step and the entire world seemed to bleed away and all that was left to see was Bill, gloves off and occasionally biting at the end of his fountain pen. He watched his face sneer a little as some ink leaked and stained his mouth a little.
Each little motion seemed to move in slow motion, from the way he lifted his hand to start a new sentence to the way his tongue would rasp against a stamp held between his fingers. Byron never envied stationary before but now he wished he could die and come back as a postage stamp. 2c, red ink, glue, a portrait of Washington on a tiny scrap of paper had all the pleasure in the world as far as Byron was concerned.
He could stay there forever, like a candle placed in front of that same moth in the bell Jar, smacking itself endlessly against the glass, close enough to feel the warmth and to see the light but never close enough to reach out and be consumed by it.
A hard but non-aggressive slap on the shoulder scared the living daylights out of him. Hollis Mason - the Nite Owl - stood in costume behind him. He had noticed Mothman standing at Bill's door for almost a half an hour now.
"Mothman? Are you okay there? I need to see Bill. Is he busy?" he asked noticing the younger man go ash pale and his wings start to vibrate like a humming birds.
"N... N... Nuh... Nuhhh..." was all he could manage. Nite Owl gave him a strange look but could put two and two together and realize that the highly strung hero meant to say "No".
"Ah, well if you don't mind I'd like to get through" he said politely. Byron stepped aside and watched Nite Owl walk through the door way like Alice would stride through the looking glass. He was back at step 27 and soon enough found himself bolting down the hall, opening his door and slamming it shut. He slid down onto the ground and started to sob.
By sweetphaex
Fandom: Watchmen
Pairing: Dollar Bill/Mothman (One sided)
Feat: Nite Owl I
Disclaimer: I don’t have a big enough beard to be Allan Moore, so they’re not mine.
Note: Someone prompted this on /co/ so for serious - this is all YOUR FAULT /co/
Byron counted the steps it took to get to Bill's office. There were exactly 28. He counted them the first time he walked down the Minutemen HQ before closing the door quickly to his own office, leaning heavily against it and trying to catch his breath.
The minute he saw Bill aka Dollar Bill his breath felt like it had been blasted from his chest. His easy smile and bright eyes held him captive... like a moth in a bell jar.
Since then he couldn't talk to him, or at least he'd tried but his words tripped over each other so much that he just had to stop and leave. Ever since measured his confidence in how many steps he could walk from his office door to Bills.
Some days it was only one or two steps, some days ten. Some days he didn't make it past his own desk, face down with a tumbler of whiskey in hand. The last time he managed to get as far as 22 before turning tail and crawling back to his office. Half a bottle of scotch later he ended up falling asleep there. He'd done this so many times he feared he was starting to wear the carpet down in the hall way.
One day, he woke up not nearly as hung over as he usually does. The air smelt sweet and the sunlight didn't make his eyes feel like they were going to explode. He strode out his office with confidence, wings flared back and swaying elegantly as he counted each step and not even hesitating as he crossed the threshold between 27 and 28. Bill's door was open a crack and the man in question sat at his desk, opening and reading fan mail.
He smiled as he wrote his letters which were fewer than the others got but at least he could respond personally to each and every one in his own hand writing.
Byron froze at the 28th step and the entire world seemed to bleed away and all that was left to see was Bill, gloves off and occasionally biting at the end of his fountain pen. He watched his face sneer a little as some ink leaked and stained his mouth a little.
Each little motion seemed to move in slow motion, from the way he lifted his hand to start a new sentence to the way his tongue would rasp against a stamp held between his fingers. Byron never envied stationary before but now he wished he could die and come back as a postage stamp. 2c, red ink, glue, a portrait of Washington on a tiny scrap of paper had all the pleasure in the world as far as Byron was concerned.
He could stay there forever, like a candle placed in front of that same moth in the bell Jar, smacking itself endlessly against the glass, close enough to feel the warmth and to see the light but never close enough to reach out and be consumed by it.
A hard but non-aggressive slap on the shoulder scared the living daylights out of him. Hollis Mason - the Nite Owl - stood in costume behind him. He had noticed Mothman standing at Bill's door for almost a half an hour now.
"Mothman? Are you okay there? I need to see Bill. Is he busy?" he asked noticing the younger man go ash pale and his wings start to vibrate like a humming birds.
"N... N... Nuh... Nuhhh..." was all he could manage. Nite Owl gave him a strange look but could put two and two together and realize that the highly strung hero meant to say "No".
"Ah, well if you don't mind I'd like to get through" he said politely. Byron stepped aside and watched Nite Owl walk through the door way like Alice would stride through the looking glass. He was back at step 27 and soon enough found himself bolting down the hall, opening his door and slamming it shut. He slid down onto the ground and started to sob.