"It's not. Not if it hurts you. Or if it makes you do insane things like subject poor women to dates with you." Barty pulled on one of the T-shirts and then undid his jeans, not really feeling like having this conversation while in his pants. Apparently it was what they were doing though. "None of what I did--"
How much could he even get into this? It was pointless anyway. He focused on what mattered. "I never lied about how I felt. I love you. I don't think I can ever not love you."
"Trouble is, you think that's the problem. I know you loved me, you know I loved you. You lied to me. You broke my trust. You fucking used me. You know I never wanted to be bent and you made me bent." And whether or not Barty intended it for the greater good or whatever he thought he was doing for the city, it was a violation. And he was still struggling with it.
He gave up on pants and looked aimlessly around the room, unable to find any energy to stand and look for his phone. "You made a fool. Why? I don't get why you would do it. If you loved me, you loved me poorly."
"I knew that I'd lose you if you knew me the way I really am. I suppose knowing that I had to lie about that or break everything, that made it easy to justify some more lies along the way." There was no way to be entirely open with Sam. Or there hadn't been, anyway. Not for him. Not when he was itching under his skin to bring about something, for better or worse. Change.
"Perhaps I'm not good at love." Obviously not. "People have always been difficult for me." He paused at that, getting the joggers out of the bag. Then he pulled them on and looked at Sam again, taking a step closer. "I guess that's the wrong word. They've been easy for me. Easy to figure out. To manipulate. I could just watch them and figure them out."
"You play with people, I've watched you do it. I knew you did it. I guess I just thought I was the exception. Guess not." Sam smiled sadly and then just let himself fall back onto the bed, covering his eyes with his hand. It wasn't worth getting upset over now, he had enough to worry about. Barty was what he was and it stung, it really did and it always would but what else could he do about it?
"I need my phone. Can you find it for me? Otherwise Gene is going to burst in here soon and I don't want to deal with that." His head hurt enough.
"You were the exception. Often." Not often enough, Barty supposed. He sighed and walked over to where Sam's jacket was, not surprised to find his phone there. He checked it for missed calls or messages, relieved to see nothing on the screen, then he walked over to the bed and handed the phone to Sam. He sat down on the edge of the bed, since it wasn't as if there was enough space on there for two people.
"I'm speaking openly now. I will deal with Cheon. You'll get the footage and no one else will ever have to know it exists."
"I can't do that." And he wanted to, so desperately, but he couldn't - right? Could he do that? He didn't want anyone to know and he would end up bent if he didn't let Barty help but by letting him help, it also compromised him. "And I can't do what Cheon wants, can I? Fuck."
He slowly pushed himself up on his bed and got out his phone, texting Gene swiftly just to say he was sick and couldn't come in. He hoped he believed it.
"I can pretend I didn't hear you say that." Seemed safer. "And if I did... I would have said that you should destroy the footage. I don't want it near me. If you said it, of course."
"If I said it," Barty said quietly, looking at Sam. He could see how much he was suffering with all of this. Having his morals compromised, even a little bit, it was at least as invasive as what had been done to him.
He leaned down, gently placing a kiss under Sam's ear. He wanted to hold him again. He wanted to help him feel safe and taken care of. "It's not on you, darling. Not on you that nothing could ever stop me from taking care of you. I'm just that kind of possessive bastard, aren't I?"
"Suppose you always were. Possessive. Controlling. Playing a game and winning." Sam snorted in amusement and wondered how he felt about this. Barty was going to go out there and take down a human trafficking rapist... he probably wasn't torn up over it, he supposed. With a sigh, he looked over at Barty and shook his head. "I always hated that about you. Did you know that? You started doing it since -- since I lost my fucking school ID badge."
He was 16, he lost his badge and had a whole meltdown. He cried under his desk like a weirdo because he was utterly miserable. He couldn't go to the library, get his school dinners or get in and out of the school without it. "Something goes fucking wrong and you fucking fix it and I hate it. I always hated it. Just because I like it doesn't mean I can't hate it."
That conflicted feeling of hate and love, it was there even that day when Barty dropped his ID badge on his bed. Nicked by bullies, of course. Barty fixed it. He always fixed it.
"That's what you think, darling. I've been there stopping them from taking your badge sooner for at least two years before then." And then there were some other things that were probably better not to draw attention to. Nothing that bad, no, but yeah. He liked to take care of his own. Whether Sam wanted to belong to him or not.
He wanted to play with Sam's hair, but he refrained. Instead he put a hand on his shoulders, because he wanted to touch him. Wanted to really feel that they were close. "They are not that far apart, I suppose. Love and hate. Me and you."
"Guess not." Sam sighed and then nodded his head, shifting up the bed as he slid down and let his head hit the pillow. "My brain is conked and I'm just -- I don't know. I need to close my eyes." He had to somehow process Barty, Cheon, his work and his body all at once and nothing was sinking in or coming together.
"When you go, turn the TV on, will you?" Sam liked sleeping with it on. He didn't like silence much, in all honest.
"Aye, I will." Barty wondered whether he could actually leave Sam alone. Maybe after he'd finished making him the tea he'd started on before and he'd make sure he'd actually drink it. And maybe if he made sure someone would watch this building, just in case.
"When you wake up, Sam, make sure to remember what a perfect gentleman I've been." No kissing, not making a move, not taking advantage. Truly, he was a noble hero. "Takes a lot to get this stuff out of your system. Text me when you're struggling. Maybe I can help."
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no subject
How much could he even get into this? It was pointless anyway. He focused on what mattered. "I never lied about how I felt. I love you. I don't think I can ever not love you."
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He gave up on pants and looked aimlessly around the room, unable to find any energy to stand and look for his phone. "You made a fool. Why? I don't get why you would do it. If you loved me, you loved me poorly."
no subject
"Perhaps I'm not good at love." Obviously not. "People have always been difficult for me." He paused at that, getting the joggers out of the bag. Then he pulled them on and looked at Sam again, taking a step closer. "I guess that's the wrong word. They've been easy for me. Easy to figure out. To manipulate. I could just watch them and figure them out."
no subject
"I need my phone. Can you find it for me? Otherwise Gene is going to burst in here soon and I don't want to deal with that." His head hurt enough.
no subject
"I'm speaking openly now. I will deal with Cheon. You'll get the footage and no one else will ever have to know it exists."
no subject
He slowly pushed himself up on his bed and got out his phone, texting Gene swiftly just to say he was sick and couldn't come in. He hoped he believed it.
"I can pretend I didn't hear you say that." Seemed safer. "And if I did... I would have said that you should destroy the footage. I don't want it near me. If you said it, of course."
no subject
He leaned down, gently placing a kiss under Sam's ear. He wanted to hold him again. He wanted to help him feel safe and taken care of. "It's not on you, darling. Not on you that nothing could ever stop me from taking care of you. I'm just that kind of possessive bastard, aren't I?"
no subject
He was 16, he lost his badge and had a whole meltdown. He cried under his desk like a weirdo because he was utterly miserable. He couldn't go to the library, get his school dinners or get in and out of the school without it. "Something goes fucking wrong and you fucking fix it and I hate it. I always hated it. Just because I like it doesn't mean I can't hate it."
That conflicted feeling of hate and love, it was there even that day when Barty dropped his ID badge on his bed. Nicked by bullies, of course. Barty fixed it. He always fixed it.
no subject
He wanted to play with Sam's hair, but he refrained. Instead he put a hand on his shoulders, because he wanted to touch him. Wanted to really feel that they were close. "They are not that far apart, I suppose. Love and hate. Me and you."
no subject
"When you go, turn the TV on, will you?" Sam liked sleeping with it on. He didn't like silence much, in all honest.
no subject
"When you wake up, Sam, make sure to remember what a perfect gentleman I've been." No kissing, not making a move, not taking advantage. Truly, he was a noble hero. "Takes a lot to get this stuff out of your system. Text me when you're struggling. Maybe I can help."