"Oi! Oi, stop! Fucking stop!" Bill yelled as he stumbled after Barty, trying to get the blood out of his eyes. He had no fucking idea what was going on any more but those blokes were beating each other up and getting their dicks out and he just didn't want to know. He almost lost the guy but he ran as soon as his senses caught him and now he was struggling to catch up, hurrying behind the guy that just did that.
"How the fuck did you do that?!" Bill asked as he finally caught up with Barty and reached out, grabbing his coat to try and get him to stop.
"Just stop and talk to me!" Maybe he shouldn't yell at someone who could do whatever the fuck he just did but he was high on so many conflicted emotions, pained and confused. He wanted to try and make sense of ... of any of this. "Why did you do that?"
"Stop and talk to you? You shouldn't want that." Barty stopped, however, to look the boy over and figure out how to handle this. Just a gay club kid, wrong place at the wrong time. "You should get to a hospital."
Turning his head, he wondered whether there was anyone around he could tell to get him there. Pretty damn empty around here though, just assholes about. He sighed, rolled his eyes and put his hands into his pockets, looking at the kid again and speaking carefully. "What do you want?"
"I don't need a fucking hospital, I'm fine." His eye wasn't opening properly and everything was a little fuzzy but he'd taken worse beatings from foster parents. He squared up to him and frowned, not sure what he wanted. "I dunno. You just -- you saved me. Just weird, is all. How you did it? I think those blokes are all cock out now and either I'm going barmy or you made 'em do it."
And he had no idea which one was more likely. Either way, he looked at Barty and then suddenly, he grinned. It hurt to grin but he did anyway. "It was dead cool, mate." Well, it fucking was. "If this is in my head, it's the fucking best dream ever and if it's real, Christ, you're a fucking legend."
"Uh-huh. They sing songs about me." Sarcasm was about the only thing he could counter this with. Although, admittedly, that grin gave his beat up face a certain charm. Cute boy. "Smile, kid. You look better when you smile."
That said, he turned to walk down the street again, refraining from giving the boy any further instruction. Smiling a bit, he was sure he could deal with that. He glanced at his watch and debated what he wanted to do. It was late, but he was a little hungry. Maybe he could grab something downtown.
No, Bill was not easily deterred, he hurried after Barty still. He wasn't about to let this go, even if he probably should. Look, a handsome bloke just saved him from some homophobic cunts. He didn't want to be alone and he wasn't going to let this handsome bastard ditch him.
"Can I buy you a drink or like, I dunno, some food. I ain't got much but I owe you, yeah?" Worth a try. He ran up to Barty's side again, grinning at him. He was in a good mood but he wasn't shocked. This was a spot of fucking luck. "Come on, mate. You're like the best bloke I've met in -- probably ever. Let me pay you back. I know a good place for noodles, they're dead cheap but they're good."
"You're hungry?" Barty considered it, then shrugged. "Come with me. You can be my dinner company." Why not? He was a cute boy, even with the swelling and he blood on his face. Anyway, he'd earned himself a treat.
He spotted what he wanted and suddenly, without warning, stepped put onto the road. The driver of the car he'd walked in front of had time to hit the breaks and Barty simply looked at him, waiting.
"ARE YOU CRAZY?! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" That would be the driver, who had made his window come down to yell at him.
Barty was unimpressed, obviously. "Don't yell." He didn't care for it. "Get out of the car. Your date too. You two can walk."
The car was nice, sleek and expensive. The guy was fat and balding and the woman next to him wasn't dressed anywhere near expensive enough to be his wife. Had to be a mistress. Either way, she looked confused when her date got out of the car as instructed and then walked around to open her door, pulling her out as well.
"What's going on?" She looked from the man to Barty, blinking her stupid fake lashes. Always grossed him out.
"Walk home, both of you. And take those lashes off, they look ridiculous."
They already started walking, the woman while trying to get her lashes off, even though they were glued on and it was clearly painful to do it like that. Barty didn't care, he just walked up to the driver's side of the car, nodding at Bill. "Get in."
Was this like a coma dream or something? He didn't even have time to stop Barty jumping into a road and then he fucking did that. He stared at him in fascination as he told the people what to do, so calm and expectant. And they did it. They fucking did it. The weird man jacked a ride with no violence or anything. Hell, the guy just gave him the car.
Just like that, it was his. He wanted it, he took it and then he had it. It was incredible.
He laughed again, disbelief and fascination as he didn't waste any time running around the side of the car and getting in. Damn, this was a good car. "Okay, you got to fucking tell me how you did that." Bill asked as he looked in the rearview mirror and saw his bloody face. "Shit."
He raised his Man U shirt to his face and started to clean his blood from his face as best he could. "You're like a fucking -- magician."
"I told them what to do." Obviously it was that. "There's tissue in the glove department. Save your stupid shirt and use that to clean yourself off."
Sam had had a shirt just like that. Manchester United. He remembered. He'd have bitched over getting blood on it too.
Barty turned off the radio, not in the mood for that kind of sound. Instead he drove in silence, debating what food he was feeling. Maybe he could involve his impromptu date in the decision making process, although he imagined someone like that hadn't ever eaten anywhere with class.
"It's not a stupid shirt, it's the best shirt I own. I nicked it from sports direct, you have no idea how bloody hard it was too. I'm from Manchester so you gotta support the home team." Bill clarified as he opened the glove compartment and got out the tissues. He used it to try and clean himself up, wincing a little. "Bastards."
They really jumped him, all of that cause he was leaving a gay bar and he had a fucking pride band on. Bunch of wusses. "That thing you did, whatever it was, that's the best thing that's ever happened to me. No joke."
He was still riding high from you. "Can you tell anyone what to do?"
"Hm. Anyone can. The trick is making people listen." Barty slowed down when they reached an area that was more likely to have what he was looking for. He glanced at Bill from the side, realising that he can't have ever been anywhere good. So he parked in front of a place he vaguely remembered reading about, some gourmet restaurant in high demand, and got out. He walked around the car and opened the door for Bill.
"Come along." He put an arm around him now, somewhere between romantic and protective. This was his date now. He was going to make up for his bad experience tonight. They walked into the restaurant, where the maître d' tried to stop them.
"Excuse me! Sir, I'm afraid we are fully occupied. You and your--" That was a look at Bill. "--companion will have to come some other time. Maybe call ahead."
Barty did not like the tone here. "Free up your best table for us."
"Yes, of course." The man immediately gave instructions to his staff, who looked confused but proceeded to try and follow that order.
"Apologise to my friend. And slap yourself."
The man looked at Bill and bowed his head. "I apologise, sir." And then, yes, he slapped himself.
This was crazy. No one ever did anything he said. No one ever listened to him. And now he was somewhere like this and the guy he was with was unstoppable. Anything he said, it happened and Bill had no idea how to feel about it. Excited? Thrilled? A little creeped out, sure, but it wasn't against him. It was for him. So why be scared?
"You should be sorry." He looked at him like scum. Everyone always did. It didn't help that he had blood on his shirt either, seemed to add fuel to the fire. "Bitch."
The table was hastily freed up and redone to perfection, they barely had to wait to be seated. Bill sat down, feeling so ridiculously out of place. Everyone was dressed up fancy and he was in joggers and a footie shirt. Not really class. Some people gave him the eye and he pulled a face. "Sorry, mate. I'm not really made for these sort of places."
He didn't want Barty to feel awkward so he held up a hand in apology. "It's all I got. My spares got nicked last week and I ain't got nothing nice like."
"Doesn't matter. You're with me, so these places are made for you." Simple enough. Barty leaned back, annoyed by the looks Bill was getting. Besides, it was way too noisy. "SHUT UP!"
The room fell silent immediately. Better. Barty looked around, considering. "You there. Get up."
A man, young man, a table over got up, a confused and freaked out look on his face.
"You are about my date's size. Strip."
While the man followed his order, he looked back at Bill and shrugged. "It can't hurt to dress the part. You can have his clothes."
"Huh." Bill didn't know what to do about that so he looked at Barty curiously and then watched the guy strip off and leave his clothes there for Bill to have. Shit. He really could control everything. Bill took the shirt from the floor and removed his Man United one, pulling the white shirt on. "Is it fun?"
He had to ask, he was curious.
"That they just do it? Or does it ever get boring? Must be a bitch to date." Or really easy, depending on consent issues. He wouldn't like it, he would wonder if anyone really was into him.
"I don't date." Well. He had just called this boy his date, but it wasn't as if that was real. Or as if anything was, really. He was very aware at how many people were in this place now and he stared liking it less, so he gave a simple instruction to the patrons of the restaurant. "Get out!"
They all did, leaving only the waiters and Bill. Barty snapped his fingers and they were getting the menus. Excellent service, admittedly. "Get us whatever is best." He didn't feel like deciding. "Your most expensive wine too. And whatever he wants."
He indicated Bill and tried not to think about the answers to those questions he'd asked.
"Uhhh... whatever he gets, I'll have." Bill said as he was there, in the middle of this fancy place, pulling up his new pants and everyone else left. Including the naked guy. Damn, what a bad day that was for that loser. "And a coke with ice." Ice seemed fancy. He finished getting his new kit on and sat back down.
"No dating? The world's loss, mate. You're a stunner." Little creepy sometimes but he was hot so what did he care? He eyed him up and then smiled to himself. "God help the poor sod that rejects you though."
He assumed bad break-ups were inevitable if they ever pissed him off. He looked around the empty place curiously. "You like quiet... am I pissing you off? I can shut up, if you fancy."
Barty shook his head, trying not to get too hung up on wording there. Poor sod and rejection, that was getting to him a little. "If I want you to shut up, I'll tell you."
He hadn't given the boy that many orders yet. He didn't really need to and he didn't want to either. He was making a bit of an effort, actually. Proving things to Sam, because maybe Sam would hear about this. He probably would, this was probably noteworthy enough that it would flag up. Come across his desk.
"I don't need to order anyone around so they'd date me." He told Bill and really he was telling Sam. At least one of them might believe it. "They look good on you, those clothes. Remind me to set you up with money later."
"Nah, didn't think you would." Bill agreed with a shrug as he received his ice and coke, not noticing that it was something that bothered Barty, in one way or another. He took a sip of his drink and looked at Barty for a moment before frowning. "Have you ever tried to make people do stuff and they didn't or do they just always do it?"
Must have been a bit of a mindfuck on this guys side of things for sure.
"Cause that's gotta be wild... erm, what's your name?" Oh yeah, names. They never did them. "I'm Bill. William but I like Bill."
"You don't need my name. But Bill suits you." He'd think of him like that now. Bill. Bill, with the bloody face and the suit that didn't quite fit, looking all the more adorable on him. He was a cute boy, couldn't deny that. Pretty too.
"People always do what I say, if it's possible. Sometimes they try what's impossible too." The only times his power hadn't worked was with his brother. He supposed when he was very young, before his parents enhanced it, then it hadn't always worked. Seemed like a long time ago now, he couldn't remember. He hadn't even realised it back then.
It wasn't as if he'd wanted to control anyone. "Do you have a boyfriend, Bill?"
There, he could do small talk. People had lives outside of when he interacted with them and he could acknowledge that. Take that, Sam. Barty reached for the glass of wine that had been poured for him and took a sip. Ha.
"I guess I'll just call you handsome then." Bill joked as he playfully smirked at the guy and picked up his glass, just sort of enjoying the way this was. It was madness and it really could easily be a weird fantasy before he died of a kicked in head or something but hell, it was funny and he liked it. Plus the coke was good, it was like the fancy sort that tasted all special.
"Kinda. I got a bloke. We're on and off, we don't always ... like, you know, he's busy and the like. Sometimes I crash there but if it's a work night, he kicks me out." He had been with Shaun for a while now and he was alright, not the best bloke but at least he liked him and he was about the best he could pull. "Or if he has his kids over. He doesn't want me near them. Dunno why."
He shrugged and then looked down at his plate with a frown. "I like kids. They're okay."
"They're loud. Kids. I don't like their voices, so shrill." That was his opinion on kids. he'd never spent any extended time around them, he tended to simply send them off when they bothered him somewhere. "Your bloke sounds like a right bastard."
Seemed worthwhile to point that out. "Break it up with him and find someone better."
All right, so that was an order. But it might wear off before Bill got around to it. And, if not, what was the harm? A better partner was a good idea. Someone who could take care of him properly. Someone who appreciated him. Nothing sinister about that.
There first course was served and Barty started eating his appetiser, glancing over at Bill. "Eat what you want, I don't care if you finish it. It's overpriced anyway."
Not that he was going to pay, but still. It was the principle of the matter.
"I'll try." He shrugged his shoulders and then laughed, knowing he had to go home and dump the guy, it was just stuck in his head, but he knew it wouldn't last. "I've done it before but it never lasts. I can't find anyone better. I mean, look at me." He gestured to himself and then snorted in disbelief. As if he could find someone better. He would try, he had to, but he didn't think he would manage.
"Shaun's my best yet. If he's a bastard, God help me finding better." Bill rolled his eyes and then started to look at the weird appetiser thing. It was weird vegetables, some whitish meat thing? And some whipped goo. He prodded the goo curiously and then went for one of the carrots. At least he knew what a carrot was.
"Love is for other people, it ain't for me." He wanted it to be but that dream had died a long time ago. "You can relate, right? Come on, man, you have to be a player." With those looks and that attitude. Player for sure.
"You lot... You don't really matter. I guess I play with you." Maybe not quite in the way Bill meant here, but whatever. "I fuck when I want to." That much was true. There just wasn't often much thrill in it. Any fire or real desire. Not without Sam.
He put the white goo on a bread roll and ate it, considering Bill. "I'm looking at you. I don't know what you mean. You're pretty. I like your hair. Nice length too." It had taken so much effort to ever get Sam to grow out his hair. He'd cut it off whenever the order wore off. So annoying, the length Sam preferred was so not flattering.
"Must be kind of shitty. Life like that. If you play with people and all, and people don't matter, then you're just... alone." Shit. That was sad. To be that isolated in the world where the only fucking thing that motivated like 99.9999999% of people was love and connections and people. Fucking beautiful people. "It's kind of sad."
Wait. He just insulted super powerful guy. He frowned and then paused, looking at Barty for a moment and wincing. "No offence." He tried a smile, looking at his goo again before just eating the bread as is. "But cheers, I guess. But I ain't hot to most. I'm short, I'm not built, I'm a dime a dozen sort in the gay clubs."
"I'm tall. Why would I need you to be tall?" What was the issue with him being short? He supposed he didn't have Sam's power, but Sam's power had never been the draw anyway. Part of the package and undeniably appealing, but not what really sparked his interest. "I bet you're a good shag. Stop selling yourself short."
He hadn't really meant for that to be an order, but whatever. A very powerful way of affirmation, what was bad about that?
"Bring the main! I don't think Bill here is thrilled with your starter." The waiters were scrambling and Barty looked at Bill again. "I've always been alone. Well. Almost always. I got used to it."
Bill shrugged and watched them take the plate, finishing his bread before he spoke again. And yeah, he was not selling himself short now as he looked Barty dead in the eyes and went for it. "I'm a great fucking shag, it's relationships I can't get. But I'm passed that shit. I don't care about people and they definitely don't care about me. All I want these days is to fuck around."
Love was a dead dream and he accepted that. "We can fuck before we part ways. Lemme show you how good I am. I got fucking stamina, I'm verse and I'll do anything. I've done so weird shit." That he was not proud of.
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"How the fuck did you do that?!" Bill asked as he finally caught up with Barty and reached out, grabbing his coat to try and get him to stop.
"Just stop and talk to me!" Maybe he shouldn't yell at someone who could do whatever the fuck he just did but he was high on so many conflicted emotions, pained and confused. He wanted to try and make sense of ... of any of this. "Why did you do that?"
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Turning his head, he wondered whether there was anyone around he could tell to get him there. Pretty damn empty around here though, just assholes about. He sighed, rolled his eyes and put his hands into his pockets, looking at the kid again and speaking carefully. "What do you want?"
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And he had no idea which one was more likely. Either way, he looked at Barty and then suddenly, he grinned. It hurt to grin but he did anyway. "It was dead cool, mate." Well, it fucking was. "If this is in my head, it's the fucking best dream ever and if it's real, Christ, you're a fucking legend."
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That said, he turned to walk down the street again, refraining from giving the boy any further instruction. Smiling a bit, he was sure he could deal with that. He glanced at his watch and debated what he wanted to do. It was late, but he was a little hungry. Maybe he could grab something downtown.
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"Can I buy you a drink or like, I dunno, some food. I ain't got much but I owe you, yeah?" Worth a try. He ran up to Barty's side again, grinning at him. He was in a good mood but he wasn't shocked. This was a spot of fucking luck. "Come on, mate. You're like the best bloke I've met in -- probably ever. Let me pay you back. I know a good place for noodles, they're dead cheap but they're good."
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He spotted what he wanted and suddenly, without warning, stepped put onto the road. The driver of the car he'd walked in front of had time to hit the breaks and Barty simply looked at him, waiting.
"ARE YOU CRAZY?! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" That would be the driver, who had made his window come down to yell at him.
Barty was unimpressed, obviously. "Don't yell." He didn't care for it. "Get out of the car. Your date too. You two can walk."
The car was nice, sleek and expensive. The guy was fat and balding and the woman next to him wasn't dressed anywhere near expensive enough to be his wife. Had to be a mistress. Either way, she looked confused when her date got out of the car as instructed and then walked around to open her door, pulling her out as well.
"What's going on?" She looked from the man to Barty, blinking her stupid fake lashes. Always grossed him out.
"Walk home, both of you. And take those lashes off, they look ridiculous."
They already started walking, the woman while trying to get her lashes off, even though they were glued on and it was clearly painful to do it like that. Barty didn't care, he just walked up to the driver's side of the car, nodding at Bill. "Get in."
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Just like that, it was his. He wanted it, he took it and then he had it. It was incredible.
He laughed again, disbelief and fascination as he didn't waste any time running around the side of the car and getting in. Damn, this was a good car. "Okay, you got to fucking tell me how you did that." Bill asked as he looked in the rearview mirror and saw his bloody face. "Shit."
He raised his Man U shirt to his face and started to clean his blood from his face as best he could. "You're like a fucking -- magician."
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Sam had had a shirt just like that. Manchester United. He remembered. He'd have bitched over getting blood on it too.
Barty turned off the radio, not in the mood for that kind of sound. Instead he drove in silence, debating what food he was feeling. Maybe he could involve his impromptu date in the decision making process, although he imagined someone like that hadn't ever eaten anywhere with class.
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They really jumped him, all of that cause he was leaving a gay bar and he had a fucking pride band on. Bunch of wusses. "That thing you did, whatever it was, that's the best thing that's ever happened to me. No joke."
He was still riding high from you. "Can you tell anyone what to do?"
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"Come along." He put an arm around him now, somewhere between romantic and protective. This was his date now. He was going to make up for his bad experience tonight. They walked into the restaurant, where the maître d' tried to stop them.
"Excuse me! Sir, I'm afraid we are fully occupied. You and your--" That was a look at Bill. "--companion will have to come some other time. Maybe call ahead."
Barty did not like the tone here. "Free up your best table for us."
"Yes, of course." The man immediately gave instructions to his staff, who looked confused but proceeded to try and follow that order.
"Apologise to my friend. And slap yourself."
The man looked at Bill and bowed his head. "I apologise, sir." And then, yes, he slapped himself.
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"You should be sorry." He looked at him like scum. Everyone always did. It didn't help that he had blood on his shirt either, seemed to add fuel to the fire. "Bitch."
The table was hastily freed up and redone to perfection, they barely had to wait to be seated. Bill sat down, feeling so ridiculously out of place. Everyone was dressed up fancy and he was in joggers and a footie shirt. Not really class. Some people gave him the eye and he pulled a face. "Sorry, mate. I'm not really made for these sort of places."
He didn't want Barty to feel awkward so he held up a hand in apology. "It's all I got. My spares got nicked last week and I ain't got nothing nice like."
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The room fell silent immediately. Better. Barty looked around, considering. "You there. Get up."
A man, young man, a table over got up, a confused and freaked out look on his face.
"You are about my date's size. Strip."
While the man followed his order, he looked back at Bill and shrugged. "It can't hurt to dress the part. You can have his clothes."
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He had to ask, he was curious.
"That they just do it? Or does it ever get boring? Must be a bitch to date." Or really easy, depending on consent issues. He wouldn't like it, he would wonder if anyone really was into him.
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They all did, leaving only the waiters and Bill. Barty snapped his fingers and they were getting the menus. Excellent service, admittedly. "Get us whatever is best." He didn't feel like deciding. "Your most expensive wine too. And whatever he wants."
He indicated Bill and tried not to think about the answers to those questions he'd asked.
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"No dating? The world's loss, mate. You're a stunner." Little creepy sometimes but he was hot so what did he care? He eyed him up and then smiled to himself. "God help the poor sod that rejects you though."
He assumed bad break-ups were inevitable if they ever pissed him off. He looked around the empty place curiously. "You like quiet... am I pissing you off? I can shut up, if you fancy."
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He hadn't given the boy that many orders yet. He didn't really need to and he didn't want to either. He was making a bit of an effort, actually. Proving things to Sam, because maybe Sam would hear about this. He probably would, this was probably noteworthy enough that it would flag up. Come across his desk.
"I don't need to order anyone around so they'd date me." He told Bill and really he was telling Sam. At least one of them might believe it. "They look good on you, those clothes. Remind me to set you up with money later."
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Must have been a bit of a mindfuck on this guys side of things for sure.
"Cause that's gotta be wild... erm, what's your name?" Oh yeah, names. They never did them. "I'm Bill. William but I like Bill."
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"People always do what I say, if it's possible. Sometimes they try what's impossible too." The only times his power hadn't worked was with his brother. He supposed when he was very young, before his parents enhanced it, then it hadn't always worked. Seemed like a long time ago now, he couldn't remember. He hadn't even realised it back then.
It wasn't as if he'd wanted to control anyone. "Do you have a boyfriend, Bill?"
There, he could do small talk. People had lives outside of when he interacted with them and he could acknowledge that. Take that, Sam. Barty reached for the glass of wine that had been poured for him and took a sip. Ha.
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"Kinda. I got a bloke. We're on and off, we don't always ... like, you know, he's busy and the like. Sometimes I crash there but if it's a work night, he kicks me out." He had been with Shaun for a while now and he was alright, not the best bloke but at least he liked him and he was about the best he could pull. "Or if he has his kids over. He doesn't want me near them. Dunno why."
He shrugged and then looked down at his plate with a frown. "I like kids. They're okay."
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Seemed worthwhile to point that out. "Break it up with him and find someone better."
All right, so that was an order. But it might wear off before Bill got around to it. And, if not, what was the harm? A better partner was a good idea. Someone who could take care of him properly. Someone who appreciated him. Nothing sinister about that.
There first course was served and Barty started eating his appetiser, glancing over at Bill. "Eat what you want, I don't care if you finish it. It's overpriced anyway."
Not that he was going to pay, but still. It was the principle of the matter.
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"Shaun's my best yet. If he's a bastard, God help me finding better." Bill rolled his eyes and then started to look at the weird appetiser thing. It was weird vegetables, some whitish meat thing? And some whipped goo. He prodded the goo curiously and then went for one of the carrots. At least he knew what a carrot was.
"Love is for other people, it ain't for me." He wanted it to be but that dream had died a long time ago. "You can relate, right? Come on, man, you have to be a player." With those looks and that attitude. Player for sure.
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He put the white goo on a bread roll and ate it, considering Bill. "I'm looking at you. I don't know what you mean. You're pretty. I like your hair. Nice length too." It had taken so much effort to ever get Sam to grow out his hair. He'd cut it off whenever the order wore off. So annoying, the length Sam preferred was so not flattering.
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Wait. He just insulted super powerful guy. He frowned and then paused, looking at Barty for a moment and wincing. "No offence." He tried a smile, looking at his goo again before just eating the bread as is. "But cheers, I guess. But I ain't hot to most. I'm short, I'm not built, I'm a dime a dozen sort in the gay clubs."
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He hadn't really meant for that to be an order, but whatever. A very powerful way of affirmation, what was bad about that?
"Bring the main! I don't think Bill here is thrilled with your starter." The waiters were scrambling and Barty looked at Bill again. "I've always been alone. Well. Almost always. I got used to it."
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Bill shrugged and watched them take the plate, finishing his bread before he spoke again. And yeah, he was not selling himself short now as he looked Barty dead in the eyes and went for it. "I'm a great fucking shag, it's relationships I can't get. But I'm passed that shit. I don't care about people and they definitely don't care about me. All I want these days is to fuck around."
Love was a dead dream and he accepted that. "We can fuck before we part ways. Lemme show you how good I am. I got fucking stamina, I'm verse and I'll do anything. I've done so weird shit." That he was not proud of.
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