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georgiapeach30513 · 1 year

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Kindly Unspoken, Part 11

Summary: Andy takes you out on a date

Pairings: Andy Barber X Reader

Rating: mild

Warnings: implied past abuse, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 3.6K

Series Masterlist

“Daddy,” Amaris says slowly, lifting her spoon out of her oatmeal and letting it plop back down in the bowl. “How come Miss Angel doesn’t come see me anymore?”

“Uh,” Andy scratches at the back of his neck. He wasn’t going to involve her in any of this, until…well if, if it got serious. He hoped it did. Despite your reservations, he hoped that this became very serious. “Well, she was your social worker, and now that you are legally, biologically, and forever mine she doesn’t really have any more work to do.”

Amaris stares blankly at her oatmeal, brows scrunching up as she thinks, “But…but I thought she liked me. And she got along with everyone in the family, and…daddy, are you ever going to date?”

“What?” He asks, choking on his coffee. “Why would you ask that?”

“Well, I have this feeling that you’re not very good at picking women.”

“Uh huh,” Andy says with mild sarcasm. He was just fine at picking women. Finding a woman that wanted to be with him long term, and that he would want to introduce them to their daughter was a completely different thing.

“I think you and Miss Angel just make sense.”

“Okay, grab your backpack. Let’s get you off to school. Go on. Lunch bag is on the counter,” he responds quickly, taking the final gulp of his coffee.

“You didn’t just put a Lunchable in there, did you?”

“No, Amma. Tulip gave me some ideas to put in your lunchbox. You’ve got a very well balanced diet. Complete with pine berries, carrot sticks, a wrap, veggie straws, and…some chocolate pudding,” she giggles, placing her bowl in the dishwasher, grabbing up her things.

“Maybe I should call Miss Angel and ask her for advice on pens for school.”

“Maybe we should get to school before you’re late.”

“Wait!” Angie screams at you as you try to walk to your office. “Is there something you want to tell me?” You stare at her wide head, shaking your head no. You couldn’t think of anything that you needed to tell her. “Seriously?”

“Well, there’s clearly something that you think I should tell you, so how about you tell me since I’m completely at a loss,” she gives you a wide smile, and with a roll of your eyes you walk back to your office anyways. You weren’t here for riddles. Sometimes the mystery was in your clients themselves.

You stop at the sight of a dozen roses in various shades of pink and red on your desk. You stare at the beautiful arrangement in shock. No one had ever sent you flowers. No one had ever done anything nice, just because. “So, you want to tell me something now? The guy at the bar, did he do this?”

“He never even showed up,” you answer slowly, opening up the card, and it was just a generic can’t wait for the weekend. You were thankful there wasn’t a name on the card, because you were sure that Angie had already dug into the card. She was a bit to mosey.

“So…you already found a new one and this one is sending you flowers? What dating site are you on?” Angie can’t help but notice how you seemed completely giddy at the gesture of flowers. No one had ever valued you the way they should. “Have you met this one?”

“Huh? Uh, yeah, we’ve met. A few times,” tapping her fingers along the desk, she turns to leave, but you clear your throat, “Ang, can I be honest with you?”

“Of course,” she spins around excitedly. This was what she had been waiting on, you to be open and honest about your dating life. A life that she swore you didn’t even have. And up until the no show, you didn’t. And then…Andy Barber.

“You know…I’ve never…not when I wanted to…I mean…” you hated talking about things from your past. So much was stolen from you, and it kept you stunted in your adult life, and you didn’t want that.

“Hey, remember what I told you. It’s a fresh start, and your choice if and when anything happens. Have you been on a date with this man?” You shake your head no, now starting to worry that Andy may find you to be too damaged. “Why are you asking about sex then?”

“Men want it.”

“Women do, too. Especially with the right guy. And it’s you to decide when the guy is right and if he ever will be. You got your mace?” You nod your head nervously, “The cat? You can always stab him if he tries something.”

“I don’t think he would,” Andy was a lot of things, but he seemed to be someone that wanted to protect women. And he had definitely been respectful of you thus far. And Amaris’ grandmother and aunts. All the women in his life adored him, and spoke highly of him.

“Do you want to have sex with him?” You shrug your shoulders. Sex wasn’t ever an easy topic with you. “But you got warm fuzzy feelings with him?” You give her a nod, looking back at the roses, they really were beautiful. “What do you want to do with him?”

“I wanna kiss him.”

“That’s a step. You’ve never wanted to do that before, huh?” It was true, you can’t ever remember looking at a guy and wanting to kiss him. Your life in foster care wasn’t pretty. “Have you ever been kissed?”

“Angie?”

“I mean, properly, because it’s what you wanted.”

“No,” it was embarrassing that you as a grown woman hadn’t ever kissed, hell even touched someone that you wanted to touch. No one ever asked you what you wanted. They just took.

“Then, I say be as honest as you're comfortable with. Enjoy the time that you have with him. And he does seem to be a nice guy. Sending you flowers at work. So he knows where you work? Who is this guy? Angel!”

“Shh,” you start whispering, getting closer to her, “It’s…I shouldn’t tell you this because…it’s Andy Barber.”

“What? Like the hot lawyer daddy with the cute kid? Like looks like….well, you know how hot he is. He’s…that fione man sent you flowers? Angel, you enjoy this date. He is a gentleman, he has been so kind to this entire building. Angel! He’s perfect. Oh my gosh. What are you going to wear? Where is he taking you? We need to go shopping. I need you to find out where you’re going. You need to be cute, and oh…honey, what’s wrong?”

“He just got his daughter back.”

“The daughter that absolutely adores you? Yeah, so?”

“He doesn’t need my baggage,” Angie tsks at you. Shaking her head no, and wanting you to get out of your head, and not sabotage this date before anything happened. She wanted you to quit dwelling on the past, and letting it rule who you were in your personal life, like you did with your professional life. You used your experiences to help other families. You had become their angels, and now it was time to find your own.

“He’s got baggage, too.”

“Amaris isn’t baggage.”

“Spoken like a true mother,” you look up glaring at her, that was too fast. You didn’t want Amaris to know that you were dating Andy. Even if it was just the one date. It was too soon to involve her in any way. “I’m sorry. Don’t rush anything. But enjoy it. At the very least you get a free diner or something, right? And you get to look into that man’s gorgeous eyes.”

“I’m being dumb?” You needed one more confirmation. That was it. Just one more.

“You are being smart. He’s gorgeous, and he seems like a hopeless romantic that wants to take care of a woman, and treat her like his princess. You see how good he was immediately with his daughter. He would be one that would value your worth, and not just want a taste of what you can offer him sexually. But this is the first date. And he sent you flowers. Give that man a chance.”

Wear something comfortable. Shoes you can walk in, and wear sunscreen. Clearly, you were going to be outside. Your bed was covered in discarded outfits. Nothing just seemed to look quite right. You didn’t feel you could move comfortably. Didn’t feel like it looked quite right, and you knew you were overthinking things. You couldn’t stop.

You start to put your clothes back up, settling on a simple outfit of capris and a basic top with sneakers. It seemed easy enough. You knew this date had meant more to you than you had initially thought. And getting ready proved that. Nothing was right. Nothing looked right. Nothing felt right. Your hair didn’t do what you wanted it to do. It was just all wrong.

You got ready too early, and now have to wait around. Sighing, you settle back on the couch, letting your now exhausted eyes start to flutter close. A quick nap wouldn’t hurt. At least during sleep, your brain wouldn’t be rushing around to every scenario that could happen today. You would quit thinking of all the ways that you didn’t deserve Andy, and possibly, eventually Amaris.

Drifting into a restless sleep, and only woken up by a loud knock on the door. Jolting up on the couch, and realizing that this was date time. That knock was Andy. He was at your door to pick you up for your date, and you were not prepared.

Taking a deep calming breath, you open the door, and he looks just as handsome in his hoodie and jeans as he did in his suit. The sleeves were pushed up his arms a bit, and you tell yourself to not stare, but there was this odd comfortability with him. Bashfully, you look down to the floor, “You look nice,” you whisper.

“You do, too. I know this is very casual date, but it’s a pretty day. I thought being outside in the sun, and picking strawberries would be nice,” you were back to looking up at him smiling. You love strawberries. He reaches for your hand, pulling you out the door, and waits on you to lock up, and you were surprised at how you didn’t retch at the feeling of his thick fingers.

But his fingers didn’t feel possessive. They felt safe. Like he wasn’t holding you to assert dominance, but to make sure you were safe. Physical touch usually had you withdrawing, and you didn’t understand why he was making you want to get closer to him.

“Have you ever picked your own strawberries?” He asks, opening your door, and jogging over to his side of the car. “I haven’t. This was completely Amaris’ idea.”

“Andy, you told her?” This was bad. You didn’t want her involved. You know how confusing it is when parents move too fast.

“No! No, god no, um…she mentioned picking fruit. That afternoon I drove past this strawberry farm. It just,” he looks over at you quickly, before back on the road. His hand sits awkwardly on the console, holding it up. “It felt like the universe was telling me that we should go pick strawberries.”

“Strawberries are my favorite,” you giggle when he wiggles his fingers around, “What are you doing?”

“I was hoping you would pick my hand. I’m assuming this is too soon?”

“Maybe,” you answer shyly, trying not to look over at him. He was adorable when he was trying to flirt.

“So I can’t hold your hand?”

“Didn’t say that,” with a slow move, he reaches for your hand. Holding it gently, and your body slightly turns towards him. “So when did you want to ask me on a date?”

“Wow,” Andy takes a deep breath, paying too much attention to the road as he thinks. “Well, that was a big question.”

“You don’t have to answer it.”

“I will if you will,” stopping at a red light, he turns to look towards you. “I’ve been curious myself, just didn’t think you would…”

“After you met Amaris,” his mouth turns up into a smile. He couldn’t explain it, but the fact that it was after his daughter was involved, made him happier. You had even gotten onto him when you thought that he was including Amaris too soon. “I felt like my job was done, but also…for a man that had never been a father before, it was so natural to you, because you wanted it. Wanted every bit of it. You didn’t hesitate to become her father, and who she needed. Not to mention everything you did to find her. Even research on your own.”

“I was attracted immediately. Hadn’t felt that in a while. A crush, as Curtis likes to call it. But seeing you with my daughter, I felt it a lot more. I think this is kinda crazy, what we’re doing. But isn’t that what dating is? Crazy? Two people who don’t know each other, and decide they want to know more, so they talk. Sometimes that’s it, sometimes it turns more romantic.”

“This place is adorable,” you look out the window. Awkwardly changing the subject because you didn’t know where to steer the conversation. “I’ll let you know after the date where I land on that spectrum.”

“You seem more comfortable when it’s just me, or even Amaris.”

You blink at him a few times, trying to think about what it was you wanted to say, and how you wanted to say it. You didn’t want to let him completely in on your past. He knew you were in the system, and knew that you had moved around a lot. That’s all he needed to know. “I can’t explain it. You exude this warmth, and it makes me comfortable. Usually the touch of men makes me shy away,” he looks down at the two of your hands, fingers intertwined with each other, “I don’t feel that with you.”

“Good,” he laughs, opening up his door. “I like hearing that. Because that’s exactly how I feel,” you open your own door. Getting out, and Andy was walking up beside you. Naturally slipping his hand into yours for a walk through the berry patches. Picking your own strawberries in the warmth of the sun.

You wrap Andy’s hoodie tighter around you, basking in the scent of him, and the view of a pond, and a picnic laid out for two. Theme of lunch was clearly strawberries; strawberry wine, strawberry preserves, a small charcuterie board, strawberry pie, etc. Strawberries were in abundance. Even your baskets filled completely with your strawberries sit beside the blanket. And you couldn’t decide what you enjoyed looking at more, Andy or the pond in front of you.

Today had been just what you had always imagined in a first date. A bit of flirting, a bit of talking, a lot of lingering looks, and ‘accidental’ touches. It was almost just like the movies. The sun was bright and shining, even if the temperature started to drop a bit. Thank goodness for hoodies.

“Have you always lived in Boston?” He asks you, and you shake your head no. “Oh, I’m sorry. I should have known. I do apologize.”

“It’s okay. I was always in the east coast area. But not always in Massachusetts. What about you?”

“No,” he smiles, taking a bit of a strawberry, and sipping on the wine. “I just settled in this area. It’s a good place to raise kids, you know?”

“You’ve always wanted to be a dad?” He nods his head slowly, looking out at the pond, and your heart breaks for him. “I’m sorry you missed all that time with Amaris. It was cruel. You would have been a good father to her then. You wanted it, too, huh?”

“Yeah. I can’t change it. I’ve got her now, and she’s great. Sees Dr. Beck regularly, and that seems to give her someone to talk to that’s not me or family. You were right her phone calls to the foster parents are becoming less frequent. She asks about them less. She’s got so much going on with Jessie’s family. There’s babies, well one is getting closer to being here. There’s dogs, and she plays the piano with her Poppy. Everyone in Jess’ family loves her.”

“They love you, too,” you give him a knock with your shoulder. Bringing your knees up, you wrap your arms around them. A pair of swans swim by. Barely paying you any attention. “You’re like their son.”

“They love you, too,” tilting your head, you turn to look at him again. Offering him a soft smile. “They’re so smart, everyone in that family. They love you because of how you are with Amaris. But also, I think Tara just likes you. She spent so many years without her daughter, and now it’s like she’s getting a different chance with other daughters. Jessie will always be missed, but you, Doll, Tulip…I don’t know, she’s getting to see a grown up life with a daughter.”

“You ever miss her? Jessie I mean,” you had often wondered if Andy was always going to be stuck on a ghost. It was like he could never get rid of Jessie. That he was always going to want the version of her that he thought she was.

“I did. There’s no point in it. I can take time to remember her. Tell Amaris about her. Show her pictures of her mom, but Jessie is gone. Took me too long to realize that. But I’m tired of living in the past. I got too much to live for in the future,” clicking his tongue, he picks up a croissant, peeling off a bit of the buttery flakiness before popping it in his mouth. Smiling while he shrugs.

“Sometimes I think I miss the woman I wished she was. Not even miss who she actually was, you know? The Jessie I remembered wouldn’t have kept Amaris from me. Even if I had to fight to get my daughter, I would have known. I’m never going to see her first steps, or her first words. But…” he offers you a warm smile, continuing to look at you, and it doesn't make you want to hole up. Curling your body into a ball as you tried to keep your vulnerable self hidden.

“I have now. It’s times that Jessie’s never going to get, and it’s all thanks to you that I have these moments now. And I just want to share those experiences with someone. But now, I’m not just dating for me.”

“You’re dating for her.”

“Exactly,” he whispers, leaning closer towards you, and you gulp, but your own body moves forward as well. His hand lifts up from the blanket, and you move it to your cheek, his thumb caresses over your bottom lip, and you gasp. Body heating up and the flutter of nerves in your belly, and and this was all funny things you have never felt before. “I want to kiss you. Are you okay with that?”

He asked. No one ever had asked before. Feeling bold, you nod slightly, “I want to hear you say it.”

“I want you to kiss me.”

He chuckles, leaning in even more, “That’s better,” he answers breathily as he closes the gap. His lips softly graze yours before you are the one to kiss him. Your first new kiss. This was the kiss that mattered. Andy could tell you were timid, and he wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t care. Even with something so innocent, it felt right.

Wrapping a hand around his neck, you pull him closer for even more. Letting him pepper kisses around your mouth, and you whimper out his name. You don’t know how he did it, but he has his hand lowering you to your back as his body hovers over yours. His tongue flicks out, licking at your lips, and your own tongue jolts out to meet his. Mingling around before he had enters your mouth.

Your hands pull him closer to you, but when you feel his weight start to settle on your body, you push him back, and Andy doesn't stumble. He was sitting up quickly, with his hands held in surrender, “Too fast?”

“Yeah, a bit,” you pant out, pulling his hoodie tighter over your body. “Overwhelming, but it was nice. Thanks for stopping.”

“It’s not fun if you’re not comfortable. None of this today would have been fun if you weren’t comfortable. That’s what makes this good, and I just want you to trust me, at your pace. This is new territory for me, too.”

“How’s that?” You finally dare to look up at him, and he seems even more adorable with his lips a bit redder from the kissing. They were shinier because of your gloss, but it was the fact that you were the reason he looked like that. It made your mouth turn up into a wide smile, and you couldn’t stop it.

“I’ve never really dated anyone but Jessie,” picking up his glass of strawberry wine, he holds it up, “To new friends, and new beginnings.”

“To trying new things, and trusting yourself,” you add as your glasses clink together. Here was to a new chapter in your life where you didn’t let what others did to you determined your future. Where you would let happiness enter into your life, and where you would allow yourself to be vulnerable, and maybe…just maybe find your own place in this world.

And maybe Andy wasn’t that person, but you were willing to try it. You were willing to let him in, even if it was just a little bit at a time. Allowing him to take a few bricks off your already crumbling wall that you had surrounding yourself. “New things and trust,” Andy adds, taking a drink. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @peaches1958 @softsatnin @redbloodedgurl @thedarknessilove @whimsyplaty92 @superforgottensoul @lilac-tea-time @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10

#kindly unspoken #andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber x fem!reader #andy barber x y/n #andy barber x you #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber fics #andy barber fic #defending jacob fanfiction #first date #strawberry picking date #bless the broken road verse

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writing-good-vibes · 7 months

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you know what they say about dead men

ever wondered why corey has daddy issues? look no further. another instalment of the road trip, at last, just in time for the one year ends anniversary !! divider by @/firefly-graphics

WARNINGS for corey cunningham x michael myers relationship, age difference, smut, unsafe kink practices, alcohol consumption, mentions of daddy issues, and mild mentions of unhappy/unstable childhood, implied child abuse and dysfunctional parental relationships.

taglist: @slutforstabbings @ethanhoewke @voxmortuus (if anyone else wants to be tagged in corey related things, just let me know !!)

Wally Cunningham is dead; mangled in a motorcycle crash in 1999, leaving behind a wife and son. Corey had carried that with him since he was old enough to ask why he didn't have a daddy like the kids at school did.

Joan chose the details carefully, spinning a cautionary tale about how dangerous the world was, how his daddy wasn't smart enough to keep out of trouble, how it's so much better for Corey to stay at home, safe and sound, with her. To stay at home where she can look after him. And Corey believed her, for a while anyway. Why wouldn't he?

In a dirty dive bar in Florida, Corey is finishing his fourth beer of the night before ordering another one. Michael sits stoically beside him, his gaze focused impossibly on the mirror behind the bar from beneath the trucker hat pulled low over his eyes.

Beneath the sound of shouts and jeers and idle chatter, the AC unit rattles steadily, keeping only some of the balmy heat at bay. Corey sweats, curls sticking at his temples and an itch working it's way down his nape, but he he doesn't take his cord jacket off.

"Hey, Wally," someone shouts. It's not an uncommon name, especially for men of a certain age. There's probably a handful of Walters and Wallaces in this bar alone, right?

Still, Corey glances over his shoulder, taking a long swig from his new beer.

The man who shouted had just arrived, and in the time it took Corey to turn around, he's snaked his way through the throngs of patrons to a table in the corner. He claps an older man heartily on the shoulder as he sits down.

Corey's jaw drops, and he dribbles some of his beer down himself.

The older man -- and he does look old, these days -- is startlingly familiar. Corey would know him anywhere, he's seen him a thousand times over in his dreams. He still has a beard, though it has long since greyed. He's wearing a bandana tied over long, equally grey hair. A motorcycle jacket is slung over the back of his seat. Of course he has a motorcycle jacket.

Corey wipes the beer from his chin and tells himself to stop staring, but he can't help it. Corey doesn't believe in ghosts, besides the ones that live in his head, but there's no other explanation for what he's seeing. No explanation that he's got the guts to take.

Because Wally Cunningham is dead. He was mangled in a motorcycle accident in 1999, leaving behind his wife and son. Corey has carried that with him every day of his life. He dealt with the school yard teasing and pushed the grief of every empty father's day deep down. He managed just fine when he learnt to tie his own tie and how to shave on his own. He managed just fine when Momma married Ronald and they all played happy families for a while until the precarious honeymoon phase passed. Corey has managed just fine.

So why is Wally Cunningham sat in a dive bar in Florida, laughing and joking, like he hasn't been dead for more than 20 fucking years.

For a split second, something like elation passes through Corey. That's his dad. His dad who was an All-American man. Who fought in Vietnam. Who would of taught Corey how to ride a trike, and then a bike, and then maybe even a motorcycle when he got old enough. Who would have played catch with him in the yard and coached him to join the baseball team. Who would have made Momma loosen her grip. "You can't keep your eyes on him every second, Joan. Let the boy live," his dad would have said. His dad who had loved him and it was just a terrible, tragic accident that tore them apart.

But then those familiar, safe daydreams fade, like smoke on the breeze. Like they'd never existed at all. His dad is alive, and he hasn't seen Corey in over 20 fucking years.

Without thinking, Corey gets up, leaving Michael sat on his own at the bar. In his haste, desperate not to lose sight of the old man at the table in the corner, Corey forgets to put his beer down, and his knuckles clench white against the glass.

"Wally Cunningham?" his voice is pitifully hopefully. It feels like a betrayal.

Wally turns away from his friends, a congregation of similarly aged-looking bikers with bandanas and bruised knuckles, and looks up at Corey, scowling. "Who's asking, kid?"

Corey swallows thickly around the growing grief in his throat, "I'm Corey."

Wally raises an eyebrow. For a long, disgusting moment Corey can see that his name doesn't ring a bell. The dots aren't connecting.

Until they do. "Corey? God, haven't you grown." Wally looks him up and down, taking in the sight before him. Corey wasn't vain, especially not now, but he has to resist the urge to shrink under his father's narrowed eyes. His hair is a little shaggy since he hasn't got around to trimming it lately, his thrift-store jeans are forever the wrong size, and his tarnished silver belt buckle glints just barely under the smoke-hazy bar lights.

"Well, it's been 23 years." 23 years of mourning only to find that the coffin was empty all along.

Wally nods in muted agreement. "What are you doing here?"

Wally's reserved reaction feels like the single spark that starts a bonfire, drawing in oxygen while Corey struggles to breath. "I should be asking you that. Momma told me you were dead, she said that you died."

Wally has the guts to chuckle, "She did? That doesn't surprise me, she always was fucking nuts. Well, boy, I'm still kicking"

His friends laugh along, but otherwise stay out of it. When Corey thinks about this conversation later -- and he will be thinking about it later, turning it over and over obsessively until he does something stupid over it -- he'll wonder how many of them knew Wally had a son at all. If he ever mentioned the life he'd left behind in Illinois, or if he wiped the slate clean with each state line he crossed. Just like Corey did nowadays.

Corey shakes his head as he connects his own dots, "You're not dead. You're not -- you've been alive this whole time."

Wally tries to be warm, but it doesn't suit him, "Not the brightest bulb in the box, are we? I guess you must take after me, son."

Corey's deep scowl says otherwise; Wally can see Corey is very much Joan's boy. He always was. "You left us, me and Momma."

"Son, your mother told me to leave, so I did. That marriage was a mistake, it's a good job I left her when I did, or I don't know how it would have ended, but it'd wouldn't have been good, I can tell you that --"

"You left me!" Corey shouts, cringing when his voice breaks. "You didn't just walk out on Momma, you walked out on me, didn't you?" His fingers tighten even more around the beer bottle, just a little tighter and --

Suddenly, Corey feels a presence behind him. He knows it's Michael, knows his outrage must of have stirred him from his thoughts and led him over, eager -- if Michael could ever be described as eager -- to be close by in case Corey makes a scene.

Michael clamps a hand down on his shoulder, pulling him away from Wally by a couple of paces. The friends sat around his table shift uneasily in Michael's hulking, scarred presence, a fact Corey revels in as he leans back into Michael's touch. His fingers loosen on the beer bottle.

There's a tense moment of silence as the reality of this strange situation settles over them all. It reminds him of the tabloid shows Momma used to watch when he was little, the ones she shooed him out of the room for: Long lost son, meet absent father.

Finally, "This a friend of yours?" Wally gestures.

Friend. Corey's lip curls into a smirk, "He's my --"

What exactly is Michael? Boyfriend sounds too juvenile, and lover too tender. Daddy crosses his mind, as a sick little dig, or my old man. He doesn't think any of those would go down too well here, though. Partner is ambiguous, but too formal. Accomplice is fitting, very fitting, but he can't go around saying things like that in public. Cult leader is what it feels like sometimes, but a bit too grandiose for their current predicament.

"Yeah, this is Michael," Corey settles on. The pause he used to gather his thoughts was loud though, and something like doubt crosses Wally's face. But he was never fucking there, so he can go fuck himself if he thinks his opinion matters now. He can think what he likes, for all Corey cares -- and oh god, he cares, he cares so fucking much it makes him sick. Wally's probably right though, in one way or another.

"So, what are you doing in this neck of the woods? You left Illinois?" Wally tries again.

Illinois is so far behind them in the rear view mirror that it scares him sometimes, but Corey is headed West, and he isn't stopping -- for anything or anyone -- until he reaches the very end of the line. "We're just passing through," Corey shrugs.

They talk for a while, but Corey doesn't sit down at Wally's table. He doesn't accept a drink when someone goes for another round. He sneers instead of laughs when Wally's friends try to crack jokes. He stays stood in front of Michael, leaning just slightly against him when Michael takes his hand off his shoulder. Michael doesn't complain, doesn't move, just listens silently to the faux-casual conversation going on in front of him. Waiting.

Against his already-scarce better judgement, Corey does agree to stay in town for a few days and meet Wally again tomorrow. They have a lot of catching up to do.

Corey doesn't believe in ghosts, but still doesn't shake Wally's hand when he offers it, scared of what it might feel like. So, instead he smirks, a crooked gesture, and turns to leave, taking Michael with him.

The motel room is quiet and dim, the nicotine-stained bedside lamp casting a sickly yellow glow over the pair while the corners of the room stay shrouded in darkness. A safe and secret place to hide away.

Corey talks and talks, half to himself and half to Michael, wanting to purge every little thought in his head until there's nothing left.

"I don't fucking need him, I never needed him! I never needed him. I don't fucking -- oh fuck -- i got by fine, didn't I? That fucking piece of shit, never fucking needed him. I wish he really was dead, dead in the fucking ground. We should -- that's what we should do, I'm gonna -- please -- And who does he think he is? Talking to me like he didn't fucking walk out on me, on his baby. Can you imagine leaving a baby all alone? Leaving me with Momma. And he didn't even care -- he never fucking cared! -- didn't care that she was gonna swallow me whole. And he knew, he fucking knew, how bad M-Momma was and he s-s-still left me. He ne-ever loved me, did he? Because you wouldn't leave someone like that if you loved them. He never... he never... Why didn't he love me?"

Corey's talk turns into tearful babbles even as he keeps rocking his hips down against Michael's upward thrusts, fucking himself past the point of stupid. Rage and grief gnawing such a deep, deep pit in his stomach that he wants it filled immediately. Wants to fill it with the type of pain-pleasure that Michael delivers without even trying. Wants to choke on it, hot and heavy and ruinous.

But who was Corey kidding? The gaping black hole inside him wasn't new, it hadn’t been gouged out by tonight’s revelations. No, no it had been there for as long as he could remember, and it was Wally who had carved it out, taking it with him when he left and leaving Corey wanting.

"Doesn't matter, anyway. I don't care -- I don't -- I don't fucking need anyone. 'Cause I've got you, right? No one ever gave a shit about me, but I'm still here. I - I don't need them. Don't need anyone. I fucking saved myself. No, no, you saved me. And it's just me and you and we're gonna -- it's gonna be -- You'll never leave me, right? Please don't leave me, please don't -- I wanna be with you. I wanna... You wouldn't leave me. No, no, no, not like him, you're not like him -- you're more of a man than he'll ever be, and you're a fucking monster... Oh, god -- FUCK -- Oh, you can keep me forever and ever and ever and --"

Michael pushes him down onto his back. Corey chokes on a gasp as the angle changes and Michael sets a new, more ruthless pace. Ploughing into him -- too hard and too fast and too much -- as Corey's mouth stops working, his grief-stricken rambles melting into moans.

This happens sometimes, Michael losing patience when Corey runs his mouth, but usually Corey has enough sense to know when shut up. Corey's on the edge and he knows that Michael knows that, knows it when a rough, scarred hand closes around his throat, pressing dangerously on either side of his windpipe.

Corey sucks in a breath until he can't anymore.

The motel room is quiet and dark, once Corey reaches over to shut off the lamp.

He's still sniffling quietly, his sweaty skin sticking to Michael's as he arranges the older man's arms around his shoulders. Michael keeps them there limply, silently, as Corey wraps himself around him.

Abandonment feels so much worse than grief ever had. Wally wasn't dead, he just never wanted Corey. Wally wasn't dead, Corey just wasn't good enough.

Corey's fingers clench. There's a knife on the nightstand, and in his duffle, and one tossed onto the floor along with his clothes. His fingers relax. There's a snub-nose .38 revolver in the glove compartment of their truck.

"He'd deserve it, wouldn't he?" Corey mutters, "Just like she did..." He blinks up at Michael through wet lashes.

Michael doesn't say anything.

He agrees, Corey decides, smiling.

#corey cunningham #corey cunningham x michael myers #cunningmyers #🔪🎃 happy ends anniversary 🎃🔪#a little bit proud of this one ??#i think if he gives himself time to think. corey definitely blames joan heavily for driving wally away #but in the moment he's so full of shock. and his whole world view has been destroyed. that he entirely blames wally #it's a tough one. him missing wally has been an open wound his whole life #everything he does comes back to who he is. and he has always been a little boy who misses his daddy.#(but joan's dead. she got what she deserved. wally on the other hand?)#wally cunningham hate club #joan cunningham hate club #hmmm i write corey as such a blabber mouth on this road trip. despite him being the least talkative guy in the world in canon lol #but michael doesn't talk ever. corey needs to fill the space or he's going to start splitting on michael #and he only really does it when he's upset or particularly pleased. so i still defend my dialogue choices as in character lol

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