I said "ask me in the morning", when I'd be sober and nothing was lurking outside, keeping me there. Just me. [ Okay, this wasn't how he wanted it to go down between them. Opening his mouth like that was going to put them right back to the aftermath, barely a few weeks ago. Harry can already feel the muscles in his neck and shoulders tense up, his mood torquing into something prickly and quick-to-protest. It took him weeks to rationalize it, to file all his confusion-and-enjoyment away in another box labeled "damn it John" and stuff it in the back of his head. (He was pretty sure his subconscious had begun to style himself as king of all those box-up, repressed things - the bastard.)
It went both ways: Harry didn't drink himself senseless, not unless he was alone, behind locks. It was too easy to take that out, to rely on the drink. Plus, he didn't like the idea of being impaired by it. To have gone over the edge and enjoyed it -- to say he didn't want the alcohol to do the talking was the least of his issues.
Harry slaps his hands onto the edge of the counter, curls his fingers into (was it marble?) the surface and draws in a tight, deep breath. Use your head and not your heart, Dresden. ] Look, I get this [ Harry beckons between the two of them, between their eyes, their hearts ] but I don't always get what's going on up in here. [ And then he taps his own temple, looking pointedly at John. ] And you threw the book at me.
It's not like I was any better, because I took that out. I didn't bother; I had my hands all over you and I didn't--. Me. [ There's a certain quality to it: incredulous, bemused, like he doesn't understand his own actions. ] You unwound and didn't stab me, so that "wow he didn't shank me in my sleep" feeling extends both ways. And I can't hate you, so that's it. That's what I got.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2012-11-11 11:41 pm (UTC)It went both ways: Harry didn't drink himself senseless, not unless he was alone, behind locks. It was too easy to take that out, to rely on the drink. Plus, he didn't like the idea of being impaired by it. To have gone over the edge and enjoyed it -- to say he didn't want the alcohol to do the talking was the least of his issues.
Harry slaps his hands onto the edge of the counter, curls his fingers into (was it marble?) the surface and draws in a tight, deep breath. Use your head and not your heart, Dresden. ] Look, I get this [ Harry beckons between the two of them, between their eyes, their hearts ] but I don't always get what's going on up in here. [ And then he taps his own temple, looking pointedly at John. ] And you threw the book at me.
It's not like I was any better, because I took that out. I didn't bother; I had my hands all over you and I didn't--. Me. [ There's a certain quality to it: incredulous, bemused, like he doesn't understand his own actions. ] You unwound and didn't stab me, so that "wow he didn't shank me in my sleep" feeling extends both ways. And I can't hate you, so that's it. That's what I got.