Title: Me In You
Author: Brenda Antrim
Email: bren@bantrim.net
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended
Author's Note: Set post-"Dead End." Quotes from matchbox 20's Mad Season CD.

Broken In


I started out clean but I'm jaded


As usual when dealing with the wounded, Lorne didn't ask. He waited and made himself available without pushing. Made it crystal clear there was an understanding ear if and when Lindsey needed it. But he didn't push, because he must have known if he had Lindsey would have broken.

Lindsey spent the day haunting the back of the bar, quietly resisting whisky and trying not to think. His dream invaded his waking mind regardless of his efforts, and he must have been broadcasting loud enough to give Lorne a headache, because by the time the doors opened, the Host simply handed him a guitar and pointed at the stage. Lindsey stared at the six-string, stared back at Lorne, then plodded slowly up to the stool in the spotlight. He settled on the edge gingerly. A few people cheered. He didn't hear them.

He couldn't remember any of his own lyrics, so he fell back on others, hiding behind Rob Thomas and trying not to feel the words move through him. He was no better at that than at not thinking. "If I fall along the way, pick me up and dust me off. If I get too tired to make it, be my breath so I can walk."

He'd been picking himself up since he was a kid. He was tired. More tired than he'd ever been, and no end in sight. He'd thought he'd made the right choice coming back. Thought he'd have a chance, this time, having walked away from the wrong choices and meant it.

So much for chances. He kept making the same mistake all over again.

Three quarters of the way through 'Bent,' every word coming from his soul, he knew Angel had entered the club. He didn't have to look; all the little hairs on his arms rose up and shivered, and he knew.

Ignoring the vampire was harder than ignoring the rest of the audience, but he did his damnedest. Staring down at his hand moving on the strings, he sang, "Started out clean but I'm jaded, just phoning it in. Just breaking the skin." The bite on his throat ached at the words. He didn't know if he was singing about himself, or about Angel, or if they'd somehow become interchangeable in his tangled thoughts. They'd been entangled for months in his heart. Stood to reason his mind would follow.

The song was finished before he was ready, but he didn't have anything else to sing. He felt empty : heart, mind and body. He hadn't had much to give to begin with, and what he'd had had been taken. He didn't think he had any fight left in him.

Nodding curtly at the applause, hoping vaguely it would be taken as shyness but not really caring if they thought he was an arrogant son of a bitch, he walked off the stage. Handing the guitar to Lorne, he put a finger up against the ruby red lips before they could speak. The bright red eyes staring down at him were sadder than they should be.

"S'okay," he tried to reassure his friend. It was a lie and he knew it coming out, but he'd comforted with lies for so long he didn't know how to stop. He knew by the expression on Lorne's face that the effort was understood even if it wasn't believed. That was as it should be.

Angel stepped forward from the bar and opened his mouth. Lindsey turned on his heel and walked swiftly up the stairs. He wasn't quite running but he was definitely retreating.

Of course, this was Angel. Couldn't just leave it at that.


shouldn't be so complicated


"Lindsey."

Angel's voice was soft, a little preemptory, and right behind him. Lindsey walked a little faster, wincing at the pain in his lower back. "Go 'way."

"We have to talk." The softness had disappeared and the normal haughty command was back. This time, Lindsey didn't find it sexy, just irritating.

"Fuck off."

"If we're lucky -- " Angel started, too damned much laughter in his voice. Lindsey barely succeeded in fighting back the urge to turn and swing at him. Fighting wouldn't do any good; it had always been a substitute for intimacy between them, anyway, and he wasn't in the mood for anything intimate with Angel.

"Go back to hell where you belong," he barked, finally, finally reaching his truck. He swung into the driver's seat in one fast move, ignoring the way his aching muscles complained, and revved the engine. He peeled away from the curb, instinctively looking in the rearview mirror. Shaking his head, knowing he couldn't see the vampire in the mirror, he turned his head to look over his shoulder. Nearly ran his truck into the curb.

Angel was sitting beside him.

Lindsey swung the wheel over violently, coming to a stop with a thump, barely out of traffic. One horn briefly sounded, but it was Los Angeles; they were used to shitty driving and nobody protested much. He cut the engine and sat there, caught between fuming and running away so he could cry in peace.

No damned wonder the myths had started about vampires being able to fly, as fast as the fuckers could move. He stared at his hands, still wrapped around the steering wheel, knuckles white. He really wanted to hit Angel.

Maybe.

Didn't he?

"Can we talk?"

The question sounded more plaintive than demanding, now. Lindsey tore his gaze away from his fists and shot Angel a glare. The damned smirk was still there, and it was like salt on an open cut.

"Get the fuck out of my truck."

"Hey, that rhymes!"

Humans could move pretty fast when adrenaline surged, too. Lindsey's right arm flew out, fist cracking Angel across the chops before he could duck. Angel's hand wrapped around his wrist on the rebound. He didn't let go, but he didn't hold on hard enough to hurt, either, simply trapped Lindsey there. Held him until Lindsey finally gave in and looked at him.

"What do you want?"

For once, the mocking light was absent from the deep brown eyes. And he'd knocked the damned smirk off, too.

"I'm sorry."

Took the wind right out of his sails. Not only was Angel apologizing, he looked like he meant it. Not the superficial 'sorries' he got when Angel was pounding him to a pulp shortly before pulverizing his false hand. No, this one came from someplace deeper, and this time, Lindsey believed it.

"Why?" he asked quietly. Not just why Angel was sorry, but why all of it? Angel heard all the questions he asked and for once he actually answered.

"I didn't mean to hurt you. Any more, I seldom mean to hurt the people I care about, but I do it anyway." He'd turned back away from Lindsey and was staring out the windshield as he spoke.

Lindsey felt his throat tighten. Since when had Angel cared about him?

"Your timing sucked," Angel continued. His fingers had begun to draw little circles on the skin along the inside of Lindsey's wrist. The tiny caress was distracting, but Lindsey knew this was important, so he fought to keep his attention on the words, not the touch. "Buffy's dead."

Not completely unexpected, given the amount of pain Angel had been showing. The amount he'd inflicted when Lindsey had invited him in.

"What happened?" he asked, still quietly, when Angel gave no sign of going on.

"Saving the world, again. Only this time the world wanted everything, and she gave it."

Without thinking about it, Lindsey's hand curled around, and Angel's fingers slipped down, and they were holding onto one another. Lindsey squeezed gently.

"I'm sorry. I know you loved her."

"Like I've never loved, and never will love, anyone else ever again," Angel whispered. Then he shook his head and cleared his throat. Looking back at Lindsey, he shrugged slightly. "But that wasn't your fault, and I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

"Why did you?" It wasn't like he'd been fighting. It had all been on offer. All of it.

"You tried to kiss me."

Memory flashed, his arm stretching around Angel's neck, moving to lay a kiss on his mouth, movement aborted by an unexpected slap across the face. "Yeah."

"It was too close. Her memory. Couldn't let you touch me like that."

Angel sounded strangled now, but he held Lindsey's look. He reached out with his free hand, turning to face Lindsey on the seat as he did, and touched the bruise along the side of Lindsey's mouth tenderly with a fingertip. Lindsey shut his eyes, so didn't see Angel lean forward and replace his hand with his lips. He would have flinched, but the mouth covering his froze him in place.

Even as it melted his bones.

It was a long time before Angel let him free, and Lindsey was gasping for air. His lips and tongue tingled, and his jaw was a little sore. Slowly, he opened his eyes and stared at Angel, feeling a little dazed. "What was that for?"

"Apology," Angel told him. Lindsey tried to withdraw, but Angel caught the nape of his neck and held him in place. "Invitation."

Lindsey gave in to the gentle insistence of the hand at his neck and tilted his head, taking Angel's mouth as thoroughly as his had been taken. By the time the second kiss ended, the air temperature in the truck cabin had risen a good five degrees and his jeans were uncomfortably tight.

"Where?" he gasped out.

"My place?" Angel asked, dropping kisses along his cheekbone, then down along the side of his neck, stopping to lick lightly at the bite from the previous night. Lindsey shivered.

"Not if you're gonna knock me around again." He tried to be forceful, but it was difficult to sound tough when he was breathless. Angel nodded anyway.

"No knocking. A little manhandling, yeah, but no knocking."

Lindsey opened his eyes again. The smirk was back, but it was softer somehow, and he believed the assurance. Angel really did need him, as much as Lindsey needed Angel. They had some talking to do; no way was Angel going to get away with implying he cared about Lindsey and not explain himself, and he did need to talk to somebody about the Slayer. Lindsey was a good listener. Among other things.

Breaking away reluctantly, he cranked the engine and headed in the direction of the hotel. They'd talk, and they'd listen ... and they'd touch. One way or another, they'd make it through. They were different pieces to the same puzzle, and they fit together. Even if it did take a little bending.

On both sides.


just touch me and then, just touch me again


end