Max Carrigan (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
silverhammer) wrote2015-02-03 02:46 am
silverhammer) wrote2015-02-03 02:46 am
Entry tags:
2/1
Max can't find his fucking phone.
After a while, after he's finally remembered and checked the pockets of his slacks and his coat, he realizes he probably dropped it. But he's sure as shit not going back near that bookstore to look for it. He's still on edge, even though he knows whatever happened down on that part of Park Avenue probably wasn't as big a deal as he thought it was.
He needs to head home though, needs to make sure he was just seeing things and it wasn't Pru there, as crazy as that is in the first place.
Somehow, though, he ends up at Brian's instead. He doesn't always call ahead, but today, it's not exactly an option. He knocks, running one hand through his hair as he leans against the door frame and tries to calm the hell down again.
After a while, after he's finally remembered and checked the pockets of his slacks and his coat, he realizes he probably dropped it. But he's sure as shit not going back near that bookstore to look for it. He's still on edge, even though he knows whatever happened down on that part of Park Avenue probably wasn't as big a deal as he thought it was.
He needs to head home though, needs to make sure he was just seeing things and it wasn't Pru there, as crazy as that is in the first place.
Somehow, though, he ends up at Brian's instead. He doesn't always call ahead, but today, it's not exactly an option. He knocks, running one hand through his hair as he leans against the door frame and tries to calm the hell down again.
no subject
In his playpen, Gus babbled to himself, a string of syllables that the kid was working his hardest to turn into words.
no subject
Brian's hand on his back, Max doesn't move, but he doesn't relax just yet. He can't quite bring himself to. Even though he knows now that half the shit he thought happened on the street didn't, he still can't manage to shake it just yet.
"Look, I'm sorry, man. If you want me to fuck off, I'll go."
no subject
Brian rarely did anything he didn't want to do, and if he'd wanted Max gone, Max would've known loud and clear already.
"In fact," he said, pushing abruptly to his feet. Across the room, on a little accent table, there was a small, covered dish. He opened it, retrieving something from inside. "Next time, you can save us both a step." Unceremoniously, he set it down on the coffee table, within Max's reach.
A key.
no subject
"No more waiting in the hall," he says. Not that there's exactly been a hell of a lot of that. Usually it's not like today. Usually, Max has got a phone and a way of at least trying to call ahead or something. He was never too good at messaging on that thing like most people do these days.
He tucks the key into his pocket.
"Thanks."
no subject
Sitting himself back down, with a sigh, he kicked his feet up onto the coffee table, leaving the floor open for Max to say whatever he needed to. If it happened to be nothing, that was Max's choice.
no subject
"Father-son Sunday?" he asks, empty small talk as he nods over at Gus.
no subject
"You're letting it hold you back," he said, after a moment of silence. "If you want it to, that's your choice, but it doesn't have to."
no subject
Max knows it's done a hell of a lot to change the way he lives, and if he thought there was a way to change that, he would. Mostly, he just tries to keep the hell away from anything he thinks might set him off, but it's not like he can help it if some asshole decides to fire off a gun in public.
no subject
"This, today? You've got no control over that shit. It happens, you deal with it. But I'm not talking about just today."
Not that Brian could say anything about anybody's drinking, and if Max wanted to hop from job to job, that was his business, but he'd been in a backslide since the wreck, a fact that he was pretty skilled at denying.
"But hey, what do I know?"
no subject
The last person he needs to hear it from is the guy he's sleeping with.
no subject
A lot of dee dee dees and muh muh muhs.
He'd pulled himself up, again, and was reaching over the edge of the playpen, his little fists opening and closing in Brian's direction. With a sigh, Brian got to his feet and crossed the room, lifting his son into his arms.
As far as he was concerned, the conversation between Max and himself was over.
no subject
As it is, Brian jumps up and heads over to grab Gus instead, leaving Max by himself on the couch. He ought to feel grateful for it, but for some reason it feels almost empty.
"I can deal with this, alright?" he says.
no subject
"I never thought you couldn't."
no subject
Max says the words, says he can deal with it, but there's not a lot of conviction there. Mostly because days like today, he wonders if everything below the neck working just fine is enough to get by on. His expression softens as he looks up at Brian, and he sighs.
"I should probably go buy a new phone," he says, "My sister's gonna try to call once she hears about Pru."
no subject
Nodding, he said dryly, "Well, if you decide to come back, we've got a rousing evening planned. Sesame Street, mac and cheese, Mega Bloks."
With Gus still babbling in his arms, Brian leaned down, pushing a hand through Max's hair and tipping his chin up into a brief but warm kiss. Lingering only for a second, he stepped away, heading into the kitchen to get Gus a snack.
no subject
But Max still needs a minute before he feels like a person again, and not just pieces of himself put back together the wrong way.
"Yeah. I'll be back," he says, "Maybe save me some macaroni?"
no subject
Lifting one of Gus's hands in a wave, Brian said, "Say bye-bye, Sonny Boy." Waving enthusiastically, the kid let out a string of sounds, hitting on buh at least a few times.
"Close enough."