Vance and River
Sep. 21st, 2013 03:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
om_ariel posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
om_mainRiver finds Vance making cookies. It goes marginally better than last time they saw each other. References to child abuse.
He wasn't exactly contemplative, but he wasn't really bouncy at the moment either. It was a weird kind of limbo, so Vance was distracting himself from it by baking cookies. Cookies were awesome, right? And that way at least his weird mood was productive?
River stopped in the hallway outside for a long few minutes, her back to the wall, just focusing on Vance. Eventually, she pulled her phone out of her pocket and went through it to find the right song, then walked into the kitchen and, without a word, held out the earphones to Vance. Wide, serious eyes, half hidden behind her hair, heart thudding hard.
Vance was surprised by the sudden company, but happily so, and he smiled at her. "Hey River." He accepted the headphones. "Thanks. What're we listening to?"
Instead of replying, River simply got the song going, and Asaf Avidan's 613 Shades of Sad started playing. She didn't know if he would comprehend; she didn't.
She looked so serious, and so Vance took this seriously. He'd always taken River seriously, secretly, anyway, even if he'd always (or almost always) had a lot of fun with her. He watched her as he listened, swaying slightly.
Finally, he couldn't help asking, "Can I hug you? Is that...okay?"
Nothing was ever going to be all correct again, she knew. But she wished she didn't. "Okay," she echoed, because it was, probably, the way he meant it.
Careful to keep his skin from touching her directly - he didn't want to inflict too much on her or anything - Vance wrapped his arms around her in a solid but friendly embrace. He'd told her once he didn't want to ever think of her not being his friend.
He'd meant it.
Only Simon and Jean-Paul had really embraced her since she had been back, and this was different. It was a choice she made, and for a second, she didn't remember how to follow through on it. But then she wrapped her arms around Vance, careful not to tangle up the headphones, and held him back. "I'd forgotten."
"Well, if you ever forget again and don't wanna, you can come ask me. I'll try and help you remember," he offered. Vance squeezed her gently. "I've always got a hug for you, River. Promise."
"Everybody wants to make promises," River replied, and disentangled herself from Vance, tugging the earbuds out of his ears to put her phone away.
He was a little confused, possibly even a little hurt - though he figured that was just him being over sensitive again - and he let her go. Did she think he didn't mean it? Or that he was lying? "Maybe they just wanna make you happy." He did, after all.
"You've gotta let things be not right." At that, River looked up at him to see what he thought reflected in his eyes.
Vance thought it was almost ironic, really, that it was River telling him that. River, who'd known better than anyone how much of his life was making the most out of less-than-perfect situations. "I don't need things to be right. But I wanna work towards them as though it's possible. 'Cause if I don't, they won't be."
River frowned when he thought about that, and she took a step back, not listening to his words, remembering. "I'm sorry. I didn't know how to. Had to learn, had to go."
He wasn't really sure if he was nervous or confused. "Huh?"
River was looking at the floor now, and hiding behind her hair again. "I know better now. I won't. I don't know."
Oh. OH! Vance's eyes widened as he got it. She wouldn't. Which was nice of her, except now it was too late because he'd already gotten told on. The headmasters had talked to his parents, his dad was threatening to take him out of the school....a whole bunch of stuff he hadn't really wanted to think about, and River probably didn't either.
"Uh, thanks. I...I know you just wanted to help. It was really nice of you. Honest." All true. "I'm making cookies. Want some of the dough?"
"They won't let you, they'll protect you," River pleaded, apparently to the floor. Her whole body language was closing in on itself, and she rubbed a hand over the last place Vance had been hurt, only on herself.
He frowned. She sounded upset, and he hadn't wanted to do that. He never wanted to do that. It was just tough, sometimes, to stop his thoughts before they happened.
"Hey," he told her, kneeling down so he could look up at her. "It's okay, River. It really is. I'm still here, and I'm fine. No one's doing anything."
"Predicted rise in child abuse, roughly 29%," River answered, rubbing harder, before she stopped, and looked Vance in the eye. "Don't kneel. You'll dirty your jeans. I can't knight you."
Vance chuckled softly. "Too bad. I always wanted to be a real knight. Y'know, but...with electricity and stuff." He did as she'd asked, though (just like a knight would!), getting slowly to his feet again. He patted his jeans, and little puffs of white dust came out. "I wouldn't worry about the jeans, though. Had a flour incident earlier. Turns out carrying breakable stuff telekinetically is tough."
"You need more practice," River replied. "Everybody does."
"Definitely," he agreed, nodding. Practice made perfect and all that. Vance set an empty tray next to his big bowl of cookie dough and headed over to a drawer so he could get a cookie-scooping-spoon (read: tablespoon). "Want one?"
"No," River answered distractedly. She'd already scooped a little dough up on her finger, and now put it in her mouth. Cookie dough was good.
He grinned when he saw. "Okay."
Vance came back over and began scooping little balls of cookie dough on to his tray. "Have as much as you want. I made way too much, 'cause I like eating the dough."
River gave him a shrewd glance. "Good thinking."
He smiled, pleased at the praise. "Thanks." Another couple of scoops, and then he asked, "So what've you been up to?"
"Trying not to get swept away," she answered, matter-of-factly, and dipped her finger in the dough again.
Vance nodded slowly, thinking that through, and dropping more proto-cookies on the pan in rounded spoonfuls. After a second, and another snitched bit of cookie dough, he asked, "Does that happen more, now? I mean, if it's okay to ask. You don't hafta answer if you don't wanna."
He still didn't know. River looked up at him with wide, steady eyes, and her voice was oddly flat as she talked. "They cut into my brains. I feel everything, all the time." Maelstrom thunderstorm hurricane.
He felt like such a jerk for even having asked. "I-I'm sorry," Vance quickly apologized. "I didn't know. I didn't mean to...yeah, I....I'm sorry."
River shrugged, and sucked on another fingerful of dough, looking back at the bowl. "Cookie dough helps." Well, it helped today.
"Good," Vance said, smiling a little through his embarrassment. Of course, he was probably about to make it worse, but he did still need to ask, "Is there anything else that helps?"
Because if there was, he'd do it. No question.
"Don't expect," she replied, still looking at the bowl. Expectations made everything harder, when even just being was difficult.
"Okay," he said, even though he was completely confused by the seeming non-sequitur. "I'll try not to."
River nodded, without looking at him. Trying was good; managing was impossible. But trying mattered.
Vance was quiet for a moment as he finished loading up his first tray and took it over to the oven, to bake. He liked cookie dough a lot, but there was something to be said for fresh, hot cookies, too. That done, he came back over and helped himself to another scoop of the dough. "What've you been up to? Been awhile, since I saw you last."
"Definition of craziness. Same stimulus, expecting a different result." She glanced at him, for just one second, and pointedly repeated, "Expecting."
Yup. He was definitely confused. "Expecting what?"
River shook her head, stepping away. She couldn't keep a hold on her own thoughts, keep a hold on Ariadne's thread. Sew them all together? "Thread and needle."
He felt like a jerk for saying it, but he was forced to admit. "I...I don't understand. I'm sorry, I'm trying, I just...I'm confused."
Confused, diffused, perused, and River brought curled fingers to the side of her head, stepping towards the door. "Blood makes noise."
She felt everything, she'd said. All the time. Shoot! Vance looked for something to distract himself, to keep from feeling...anything, really, that might spill over and wasn't happy...and just in time, the timer for the cookies dinged. Quickly, he hopped over to the oven. "Want one?"
Did she? She did, but was it her? She wanted herself to want one, and she shook her head, face crumpling. "I don't know," she admitted, then turned on her heels and ran off.
He had no idea what he'd done, but Vance was pretty sure he'd done something.
Dang.
Okay, well...he'd finish up in here and then, once he'd gotten everything made, he'd make a bag for her and drop it off at her room. That way she could eat it if she wanted, and wouldn't have to deal with whatever he was doing to her.
Yeah. He'd do that.
He wasn't exactly contemplative, but he wasn't really bouncy at the moment either. It was a weird kind of limbo, so Vance was distracting himself from it by baking cookies. Cookies were awesome, right? And that way at least his weird mood was productive?
River stopped in the hallway outside for a long few minutes, her back to the wall, just focusing on Vance. Eventually, she pulled her phone out of her pocket and went through it to find the right song, then walked into the kitchen and, without a word, held out the earphones to Vance. Wide, serious eyes, half hidden behind her hair, heart thudding hard.
Vance was surprised by the sudden company, but happily so, and he smiled at her. "Hey River." He accepted the headphones. "Thanks. What're we listening to?"
Instead of replying, River simply got the song going, and Asaf Avidan's 613 Shades of Sad started playing. She didn't know if he would comprehend; she didn't.
She looked so serious, and so Vance took this seriously. He'd always taken River seriously, secretly, anyway, even if he'd always (or almost always) had a lot of fun with her. He watched her as he listened, swaying slightly.
Finally, he couldn't help asking, "Can I hug you? Is that...okay?"
Nothing was ever going to be all correct again, she knew. But she wished she didn't. "Okay," she echoed, because it was, probably, the way he meant it.
Careful to keep his skin from touching her directly - he didn't want to inflict too much on her or anything - Vance wrapped his arms around her in a solid but friendly embrace. He'd told her once he didn't want to ever think of her not being his friend.
He'd meant it.
Only Simon and Jean-Paul had really embraced her since she had been back, and this was different. It was a choice she made, and for a second, she didn't remember how to follow through on it. But then she wrapped her arms around Vance, careful not to tangle up the headphones, and held him back. "I'd forgotten."
"Well, if you ever forget again and don't wanna, you can come ask me. I'll try and help you remember," he offered. Vance squeezed her gently. "I've always got a hug for you, River. Promise."
"Everybody wants to make promises," River replied, and disentangled herself from Vance, tugging the earbuds out of his ears to put her phone away.
He was a little confused, possibly even a little hurt - though he figured that was just him being over sensitive again - and he let her go. Did she think he didn't mean it? Or that he was lying? "Maybe they just wanna make you happy." He did, after all.
"You've gotta let things be not right." At that, River looked up at him to see what he thought reflected in his eyes.
Vance thought it was almost ironic, really, that it was River telling him that. River, who'd known better than anyone how much of his life was making the most out of less-than-perfect situations. "I don't need things to be right. But I wanna work towards them as though it's possible. 'Cause if I don't, they won't be."
River frowned when he thought about that, and she took a step back, not listening to his words, remembering. "I'm sorry. I didn't know how to. Had to learn, had to go."
He wasn't really sure if he was nervous or confused. "Huh?"
River was looking at the floor now, and hiding behind her hair again. "I know better now. I won't. I don't know."
Oh. OH! Vance's eyes widened as he got it. She wouldn't. Which was nice of her, except now it was too late because he'd already gotten told on. The headmasters had talked to his parents, his dad was threatening to take him out of the school....a whole bunch of stuff he hadn't really wanted to think about, and River probably didn't either.
"Uh, thanks. I...I know you just wanted to help. It was really nice of you. Honest." All true. "I'm making cookies. Want some of the dough?"
"They won't let you, they'll protect you," River pleaded, apparently to the floor. Her whole body language was closing in on itself, and she rubbed a hand over the last place Vance had been hurt, only on herself.
He frowned. She sounded upset, and he hadn't wanted to do that. He never wanted to do that. It was just tough, sometimes, to stop his thoughts before they happened.
"Hey," he told her, kneeling down so he could look up at her. "It's okay, River. It really is. I'm still here, and I'm fine. No one's doing anything."
"Predicted rise in child abuse, roughly 29%," River answered, rubbing harder, before she stopped, and looked Vance in the eye. "Don't kneel. You'll dirty your jeans. I can't knight you."
Vance chuckled softly. "Too bad. I always wanted to be a real knight. Y'know, but...with electricity and stuff." He did as she'd asked, though (just like a knight would!), getting slowly to his feet again. He patted his jeans, and little puffs of white dust came out. "I wouldn't worry about the jeans, though. Had a flour incident earlier. Turns out carrying breakable stuff telekinetically is tough."
"You need more practice," River replied. "Everybody does."
"Definitely," he agreed, nodding. Practice made perfect and all that. Vance set an empty tray next to his big bowl of cookie dough and headed over to a drawer so he could get a cookie-scooping-spoon (read: tablespoon). "Want one?"
"No," River answered distractedly. She'd already scooped a little dough up on her finger, and now put it in her mouth. Cookie dough was good.
He grinned when he saw. "Okay."
Vance came back over and began scooping little balls of cookie dough on to his tray. "Have as much as you want. I made way too much, 'cause I like eating the dough."
River gave him a shrewd glance. "Good thinking."
He smiled, pleased at the praise. "Thanks." Another couple of scoops, and then he asked, "So what've you been up to?"
"Trying not to get swept away," she answered, matter-of-factly, and dipped her finger in the dough again.
Vance nodded slowly, thinking that through, and dropping more proto-cookies on the pan in rounded spoonfuls. After a second, and another snitched bit of cookie dough, he asked, "Does that happen more, now? I mean, if it's okay to ask. You don't hafta answer if you don't wanna."
He still didn't know. River looked up at him with wide, steady eyes, and her voice was oddly flat as she talked. "They cut into my brains. I feel everything, all the time." Maelstrom thunderstorm hurricane.
He felt like such a jerk for even having asked. "I-I'm sorry," Vance quickly apologized. "I didn't know. I didn't mean to...yeah, I....I'm sorry."
River shrugged, and sucked on another fingerful of dough, looking back at the bowl. "Cookie dough helps." Well, it helped today.
"Good," Vance said, smiling a little through his embarrassment. Of course, he was probably about to make it worse, but he did still need to ask, "Is there anything else that helps?"
Because if there was, he'd do it. No question.
"Don't expect," she replied, still looking at the bowl. Expectations made everything harder, when even just being was difficult.
"Okay," he said, even though he was completely confused by the seeming non-sequitur. "I'll try not to."
River nodded, without looking at him. Trying was good; managing was impossible. But trying mattered.
Vance was quiet for a moment as he finished loading up his first tray and took it over to the oven, to bake. He liked cookie dough a lot, but there was something to be said for fresh, hot cookies, too. That done, he came back over and helped himself to another scoop of the dough. "What've you been up to? Been awhile, since I saw you last."
"Definition of craziness. Same stimulus, expecting a different result." She glanced at him, for just one second, and pointedly repeated, "Expecting."
Yup. He was definitely confused. "Expecting what?"
River shook her head, stepping away. She couldn't keep a hold on her own thoughts, keep a hold on Ariadne's thread. Sew them all together? "Thread and needle."
He felt like a jerk for saying it, but he was forced to admit. "I...I don't understand. I'm sorry, I'm trying, I just...I'm confused."
Confused, diffused, perused, and River brought curled fingers to the side of her head, stepping towards the door. "Blood makes noise."
She felt everything, she'd said. All the time. Shoot! Vance looked for something to distract himself, to keep from feeling...anything, really, that might spill over and wasn't happy...and just in time, the timer for the cookies dinged. Quickly, he hopped over to the oven. "Want one?"
Did she? She did, but was it her? She wanted herself to want one, and she shook her head, face crumpling. "I don't know," she admitted, then turned on her heels and ran off.
He had no idea what he'd done, but Vance was pretty sure he'd done something.
Dang.
Okay, well...he'd finish up in here and then, once he'd gotten everything made, he'd make a bag for her and drop it off at her room. That way she could eat it if she wanted, and wouldn't have to deal with whatever he was doing to her.
Yeah. He'd do that.
