Doug and Wade - Epic Bromance (backdated)
Jan. 11th, 2013 04:21 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsBackdated to January 11th. Wade makes good on his threat to come drag Doug to the gym, and refuses to let up on getting Doug to talk about things. He also refuses to let Doug's issues get in the way of their 'epic bromance'.
Wade had, in fact, had to go upstairs and drag a protesting Doug down to the gym, but it'd been worth it in the end if only for the sheer amusement of watching his friend complain about things until the sparring started. Afterward, pleasantly bruised and well-worked out, Wade propped himself up against the wall and asked, "Right, so. Food."
Doug was still cranky. The sparring match had been a tightrope between not wanting to punch Wade and wanting to punch him a little too much. To say that his emotions were in a volatile state was a fairly significant understatement. "Yeah. Food," he said with a shrug.
"I feel," Wade said, making a grand gesture with his towel, "That there are things I should be saying. Supportive things. But really, I'm just gonna call you on your shit, Douglas. So this is me. Calling you on it. Hack it up like a hairball before it strangles you."
"I have a therapist already, thank you," Doug replied in an almost growl. And the roller coaster with Dr. Grim was back again since the attack on the brownstone, with several difficult, exhausting sessions. He was tired and upset and angry, and his temper was generally simmering just short of a boil.
"Yes, but I'm not your therapist and I don't wanna be. I'm your Wade - there's a significant difference. As your Wade, I'm allowed to kick your ass when it needs kicking so you'll get your head out of it," Wade said, eyebrows raised. "So. C'mon. Hack hack hack like the little hacker you are - puns totally and horrifically intended."
Doug balled up his towel and threw it at Wade's head, making a wordless sound of frustration. He already talked a lot about things as it was, he was doing what he was supposed to with therapy and repressing less. That didn't mean he necessarily wanted to talk about it with everyone.
Wade caught the towel with one hand and raised his eyebrows. "That was more like a grunt than words. I know you can make words, Douglas. Tell me what's got you wound so tight."
Being called 'Douglas' wasn't exactly helping Doug's frustration levels. It added a whole 'called on the carpet' vibe to everything he was feeling, He threw up his hands and made another frustrated noise, and looked obliquely away from Wade, off towards one of the walls. "The attack," he finally ground out.
Resisting the urge to fist-pump, Wade tossed Doug's towel in a clothes bin as they headed out of the gym and asked, "What about it?"
Doug's fingers clenched and flexed as if he wasn't sure what to do with them, but they couldn't manage to stay still. His shoulders vibrated with the need to be doing something, anything, rather than stay still and examine his thoughts and emotions. "Friggin all of it, what do you think?" he asked, his voice just shy of cracking shrilly.
Wade gave Doug an unimpressed look. "Duh," he said, then shook his head. "But what's the thorn that's bothering you the most and got you all... twitchy - seriously, you can hit me a few more times if you want. Don't think I didn't notice you were holding back while sparring. Is it that Artie almost died? That Marie-Ange and Jubes got hurt? That you didn't magically see the whole thing coming and somehow pull a Bruce Wayne out of your ass to stop it?"
Doug stopped walking completely as Wade enumerated just about every thing Doug had been upset over. Not quite all - he'd missed Belladonna and the Hellfire Club angle, but still. "Is it that obvious?" he asked quietly.
"Yeah, basically," Wade said, shrugging. "I mean, I pay attention. Hyper paranoia and everything. So it's possible I'm picking up on things other people aren't, but actually, no. No, that's a lie. I'm pretty sure anybody who knows you can see it. So the question then becomes what're you gonna do about it? You can't go around feeling like shit all the time. It's not healthy, my friend."
"I know." Recognizing the unhealthiness of your guilt complex and changing it were two vastly different things, though. Doug sighed. It wasn't his place to feel angry and protective of Jubilee or Marie-Ange anymore, right?
"Why're you all flaily about the Jubes and Marie-Ange part? I get being upset about Artie - kid's just a kid. And I get being frustrated with not seeing the attack before it happened - don't you think I wish I'd been there to help? But the part with the ladies, it just isn't clicking for me." Wade had turned around and braced his shoulders against the wall as he faced Doug, his arms loose at his sides.
Given how easily he'd guessed what was on Doug's mind, Doug couldn't tell if Wade genuinely didn't know, or if he did and he was trying to make Doug articulate it. He wasn't sure which was better, honestly. "Because...because awkward turtle." It was easier to speak in codes and injokes at times like this for him, the private language of a friendship simpler to say than words like 'because I have really complicated feelings and I don't feel like it's my place to have them anymore'.
Wade made the awkward turtle with his hands and held them out for Doug to fistbump. "We don't do the awkward, dude," he said, quirking a rueful smile. "We're a movable, non-awkward zone."
Doug dutifully made his own turtle and bumped it against Wade's, but with a resigned expression on his face. "Yeah, I just..." He sighed, all the nervous energy abruptly gone and leaving him just exhausted and worn out. "This sucks."
"You know it's okay to be pissed off about them getting hurt, right?" Wade wasn't sure if he was shooting in the right direction or not, but he figured it was better than not shooting at all. "It'd be weird if you weren't. Just like it'd be weird if you didn't care about Artie or wish you'd been able to stop it from happening to begin with."
Doug ran his hand through his hair. "I know that, but..." He grunted. "I want to hunt them down. And hurt them. Because it's...personal. But they're..." He waved a hand in Wade's direction to indicate the mercenary's relationship with Marie-Ange. "And Terry's gone again." Which was something of a non sequitur, but Doug was in honest mode now, so it was starting to all finally come out. "I'm just...lonely. And tired. And angry."
Reaching over, Wade very carefully bopped Doug on the forehead. "Doug. At the very least, they're your friends and coworkers. You have every right to want to hunt them down and hurt them because it is personal. They came into your home. They fucked with your people." He wasn't sure how to address the Terry issue other than making a joke about Doug having a type, apparently, but he didn't feel like that'd be terribly helpful.
"I'm surprised Remy hasn't come after me," Doug mumbled. "I mean, it was Belladonna. And she was at the Paris Hellfire Club. And that's...kind of a thing." The events that had placed Belladonna on the Black Court were still a sore spot for Doug, even though he was probably the only one still holding on to things.
Wade shrugged. "So this Belladonna chick's an issue. The Hellfire Club's bad news, from what I hear." He had only vague knowledge of what Doug might be referencing, having kept up with the Assassin's Guild to some degree, if only in an effort to not piss them off. And everyone basically knew to try to avoid the peons of the Hellfire Club. Wade wasn't interested in being anyone's pawn, to be moved around as they saw fit without any explanation. Blind faith had never really been his thing and half those people thought too much for their own good. "Which doesn't negate the fact that you're still totally within your rights to want to squish them like little bugs. Or burn them up like little bugs caught in a beam of light refracting through a magnifying glass, if that's your thing. Either way - they came into your home, attacked your people, and now they need to pay. Simple. Logical. I don't get why it's a sticking point, y'know. It's not like it bothers me that you're concerned about Marie-Ange. I doubt Kurt cares that you're worried about Jubes."
"I...feel guilty. Like...it's not my place to feel that angry, that...protective, anymore." The idea of staking Belladonna out like an ant under a magnifying glass definitely appealed to Doug, though. It was hard, being honest like this with Wade about all the thoughts and feelings jumbled up in his head. But at the same time, it helped.
"It's not like you can just... shut off your... feelings and stuff, dude," Wade said, wiggling his awkward turtle legs a bit to illustrate his point. "They're there. No amount of overthinking things is going to make them go away. And honest to God, you've as much place to be angry and protective of them as me or Kurt or anybody else who cares about them. That's natural. It means you're a human being and, in case you were wondering, that's generally seen as a positive."
"Why are you so okay with this?" Doug nearly shouted at Wade. "I don't get it. I mean, I'm over here with my complicated feelings about a woman you're dating, and you're just cool with it?" Doug wrung his hands, guilt and anguish clear in his expression.
"Dude, why does everyone want me to be angry at them for stuff they have no control over?" Wade practically threw his hands up in the air. "Look, Ramsey. You were here first. You've known them longer. There are things about Marie-Ange that I might never know but you do. I'm not going to hold that against you. I'm not going to let the fact that you still care about your ex who I'm currently dating get in the way of our epic bromance. That would be stupid. Marie-Ange would tell you it was stupid if she knew what you were saying right now. Besides, I'm turning 53 this year. I've learned what battles to pick and which ones to let slide." What he didn't say, but what was heavily implied, was that he had enough confidence in himself and his relationships with both Doug and Marie-Ange to know that if things ever changed, if the dynamics ever shifted drastically enough, that they'd tell him rather than angsting about it and he'd handle it like an adult. "So just accept that you're allowed to care and stop beating yourself up. Jesus."
"But I...shit." Wade was right, Doug realized. Marie-Ange would be telling him he was being stupid if she were there right then. And not only that, he belatedly realized he'd fallen into an old unhealthy pattern of feeling like he needed to be punished for things that only he was upset with himself for. Hell, Remy hadn't even brought up the Hellfire Club - because Doug was the only one still clinging to a need for his teammates to punish him. He put his hand to his forehead, his fingers threading into his blond curls and then fisting tight, pulling hard on his scalp. "Let's just go get hammered."
"Finally, words that make sense!" Wade said, smiling despite himself. Maybe Doug'd had a breakthrough. The thought almost made him chuckle - he should open an advice column somewhere and just call people on their shit all the time then tell them to get drunk. Because that solved everyone's problems. "C'mon, let's go, my little emomuppet. First round's on me."
Wade had, in fact, had to go upstairs and drag a protesting Doug down to the gym, but it'd been worth it in the end if only for the sheer amusement of watching his friend complain about things until the sparring started. Afterward, pleasantly bruised and well-worked out, Wade propped himself up against the wall and asked, "Right, so. Food."
Doug was still cranky. The sparring match had been a tightrope between not wanting to punch Wade and wanting to punch him a little too much. To say that his emotions were in a volatile state was a fairly significant understatement. "Yeah. Food," he said with a shrug.
"I feel," Wade said, making a grand gesture with his towel, "That there are things I should be saying. Supportive things. But really, I'm just gonna call you on your shit, Douglas. So this is me. Calling you on it. Hack it up like a hairball before it strangles you."
"I have a therapist already, thank you," Doug replied in an almost growl. And the roller coaster with Dr. Grim was back again since the attack on the brownstone, with several difficult, exhausting sessions. He was tired and upset and angry, and his temper was generally simmering just short of a boil.
"Yes, but I'm not your therapist and I don't wanna be. I'm your Wade - there's a significant difference. As your Wade, I'm allowed to kick your ass when it needs kicking so you'll get your head out of it," Wade said, eyebrows raised. "So. C'mon. Hack hack hack like the little hacker you are - puns totally and horrifically intended."
Doug balled up his towel and threw it at Wade's head, making a wordless sound of frustration. He already talked a lot about things as it was, he was doing what he was supposed to with therapy and repressing less. That didn't mean he necessarily wanted to talk about it with everyone.
Wade caught the towel with one hand and raised his eyebrows. "That was more like a grunt than words. I know you can make words, Douglas. Tell me what's got you wound so tight."
Being called 'Douglas' wasn't exactly helping Doug's frustration levels. It added a whole 'called on the carpet' vibe to everything he was feeling, He threw up his hands and made another frustrated noise, and looked obliquely away from Wade, off towards one of the walls. "The attack," he finally ground out.
Resisting the urge to fist-pump, Wade tossed Doug's towel in a clothes bin as they headed out of the gym and asked, "What about it?"
Doug's fingers clenched and flexed as if he wasn't sure what to do with them, but they couldn't manage to stay still. His shoulders vibrated with the need to be doing something, anything, rather than stay still and examine his thoughts and emotions. "Friggin all of it, what do you think?" he asked, his voice just shy of cracking shrilly.
Wade gave Doug an unimpressed look. "Duh," he said, then shook his head. "But what's the thorn that's bothering you the most and got you all... twitchy - seriously, you can hit me a few more times if you want. Don't think I didn't notice you were holding back while sparring. Is it that Artie almost died? That Marie-Ange and Jubes got hurt? That you didn't magically see the whole thing coming and somehow pull a Bruce Wayne out of your ass to stop it?"
Doug stopped walking completely as Wade enumerated just about every thing Doug had been upset over. Not quite all - he'd missed Belladonna and the Hellfire Club angle, but still. "Is it that obvious?" he asked quietly.
"Yeah, basically," Wade said, shrugging. "I mean, I pay attention. Hyper paranoia and everything. So it's possible I'm picking up on things other people aren't, but actually, no. No, that's a lie. I'm pretty sure anybody who knows you can see it. So the question then becomes what're you gonna do about it? You can't go around feeling like shit all the time. It's not healthy, my friend."
"I know." Recognizing the unhealthiness of your guilt complex and changing it were two vastly different things, though. Doug sighed. It wasn't his place to feel angry and protective of Jubilee or Marie-Ange anymore, right?
"Why're you all flaily about the Jubes and Marie-Ange part? I get being upset about Artie - kid's just a kid. And I get being frustrated with not seeing the attack before it happened - don't you think I wish I'd been there to help? But the part with the ladies, it just isn't clicking for me." Wade had turned around and braced his shoulders against the wall as he faced Doug, his arms loose at his sides.
Given how easily he'd guessed what was on Doug's mind, Doug couldn't tell if Wade genuinely didn't know, or if he did and he was trying to make Doug articulate it. He wasn't sure which was better, honestly. "Because...because awkward turtle." It was easier to speak in codes and injokes at times like this for him, the private language of a friendship simpler to say than words like 'because I have really complicated feelings and I don't feel like it's my place to have them anymore'.
Wade made the awkward turtle with his hands and held them out for Doug to fistbump. "We don't do the awkward, dude," he said, quirking a rueful smile. "We're a movable, non-awkward zone."
Doug dutifully made his own turtle and bumped it against Wade's, but with a resigned expression on his face. "Yeah, I just..." He sighed, all the nervous energy abruptly gone and leaving him just exhausted and worn out. "This sucks."
"You know it's okay to be pissed off about them getting hurt, right?" Wade wasn't sure if he was shooting in the right direction or not, but he figured it was better than not shooting at all. "It'd be weird if you weren't. Just like it'd be weird if you didn't care about Artie or wish you'd been able to stop it from happening to begin with."
Doug ran his hand through his hair. "I know that, but..." He grunted. "I want to hunt them down. And hurt them. Because it's...personal. But they're..." He waved a hand in Wade's direction to indicate the mercenary's relationship with Marie-Ange. "And Terry's gone again." Which was something of a non sequitur, but Doug was in honest mode now, so it was starting to all finally come out. "I'm just...lonely. And tired. And angry."
Reaching over, Wade very carefully bopped Doug on the forehead. "Doug. At the very least, they're your friends and coworkers. You have every right to want to hunt them down and hurt them because it is personal. They came into your home. They fucked with your people." He wasn't sure how to address the Terry issue other than making a joke about Doug having a type, apparently, but he didn't feel like that'd be terribly helpful.
"I'm surprised Remy hasn't come after me," Doug mumbled. "I mean, it was Belladonna. And she was at the Paris Hellfire Club. And that's...kind of a thing." The events that had placed Belladonna on the Black Court were still a sore spot for Doug, even though he was probably the only one still holding on to things.
Wade shrugged. "So this Belladonna chick's an issue. The Hellfire Club's bad news, from what I hear." He had only vague knowledge of what Doug might be referencing, having kept up with the Assassin's Guild to some degree, if only in an effort to not piss them off. And everyone basically knew to try to avoid the peons of the Hellfire Club. Wade wasn't interested in being anyone's pawn, to be moved around as they saw fit without any explanation. Blind faith had never really been his thing and half those people thought too much for their own good. "Which doesn't negate the fact that you're still totally within your rights to want to squish them like little bugs. Or burn them up like little bugs caught in a beam of light refracting through a magnifying glass, if that's your thing. Either way - they came into your home, attacked your people, and now they need to pay. Simple. Logical. I don't get why it's a sticking point, y'know. It's not like it bothers me that you're concerned about Marie-Ange. I doubt Kurt cares that you're worried about Jubes."
"I...feel guilty. Like...it's not my place to feel that angry, that...protective, anymore." The idea of staking Belladonna out like an ant under a magnifying glass definitely appealed to Doug, though. It was hard, being honest like this with Wade about all the thoughts and feelings jumbled up in his head. But at the same time, it helped.
"It's not like you can just... shut off your... feelings and stuff, dude," Wade said, wiggling his awkward turtle legs a bit to illustrate his point. "They're there. No amount of overthinking things is going to make them go away. And honest to God, you've as much place to be angry and protective of them as me or Kurt or anybody else who cares about them. That's natural. It means you're a human being and, in case you were wondering, that's generally seen as a positive."
"Why are you so okay with this?" Doug nearly shouted at Wade. "I don't get it. I mean, I'm over here with my complicated feelings about a woman you're dating, and you're just cool with it?" Doug wrung his hands, guilt and anguish clear in his expression.
"Dude, why does everyone want me to be angry at them for stuff they have no control over?" Wade practically threw his hands up in the air. "Look, Ramsey. You were here first. You've known them longer. There are things about Marie-Ange that I might never know but you do. I'm not going to hold that against you. I'm not going to let the fact that you still care about your ex who I'm currently dating get in the way of our epic bromance. That would be stupid. Marie-Ange would tell you it was stupid if she knew what you were saying right now. Besides, I'm turning 53 this year. I've learned what battles to pick and which ones to let slide." What he didn't say, but what was heavily implied, was that he had enough confidence in himself and his relationships with both Doug and Marie-Ange to know that if things ever changed, if the dynamics ever shifted drastically enough, that they'd tell him rather than angsting about it and he'd handle it like an adult. "So just accept that you're allowed to care and stop beating yourself up. Jesus."
"But I...shit." Wade was right, Doug realized. Marie-Ange would be telling him he was being stupid if she were there right then. And not only that, he belatedly realized he'd fallen into an old unhealthy pattern of feeling like he needed to be punished for things that only he was upset with himself for. Hell, Remy hadn't even brought up the Hellfire Club - because Doug was the only one still clinging to a need for his teammates to punish him. He put his hand to his forehead, his fingers threading into his blond curls and then fisting tight, pulling hard on his scalp. "Let's just go get hammered."
"Finally, words that make sense!" Wade said, smiling despite himself. Maybe Doug'd had a breakthrough. The thought almost made him chuckle - he should open an advice column somewhere and just call people on their shit all the time then tell them to get drunk. Because that solved everyone's problems. "C'mon, let's go, my little emomuppet. First round's on me."
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Date: 2013-01-18 12:04 pm (UTC)I am totally amused by the awkward turtle.