thewordofweb | [For Martin]

[For Martin]

My palm is rubbing idly at my neck as I step out of the bedroom and make sure to close the door gently behind me as I go. Joe's gotten enthusiastic again with his mouth and it results in a mark and that would be fine if not for the fact that Malarkey and Martin most definitely don't exactly know about us. It'd be too easy to keep on with the deceit, but I'm growing more than tired of sneaking around and trying hard to get caught (or to not get caught, depending on my whim of the day).

I lean back against the door for a moment before pushing myself off it, intending to get breakfast while Joe is still in bed and I've yet to put myself together for the day. I've still got bedhead and the stubble on my cheeks to prove that I'm very much not awake.

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Johnny left his bedroom, quietly closing the door behind him while languidly rubbing at his eyes. The past few nights he'd spend more or less awake; tossing and turning around in his bed.

It was too warm in his room, something smelled funny or the pillows didn't feel right-- that's what made him loathe lying down, but he hated falling asleep. Whenever he finally, finally drifted into a slumber, he saw his wifes in his dreams, calling out for him, asking him when he'd get home.

Blindly walking as Johnny was still rubbing his eyes, his body collided with that of somebody else.

Crying out in surprise with his arms steading himself and the person, he quickly apologized. "'m sorry, wasn't looki--" Johnny stopped in his tracks as he realized he'd walked into Webster.

"How 'bout you watch where you going?" He asked; this was Webster, after all-- Johnny'd take every chance he could get to make the other man feel miserable.

Johnny raised one eyebrow suspiciously. There was a weird mark on the other man's neck, and he questioned, "What is that on your neck?"

I sigh as I find myself on a collision course with Martin himself and my hand drops away from my neck, not sure I want to get into this. Sonya's been in Joe's room and besides that, Joe and I haven't exactly hidden the fact that we essentially live in the same room. We just don't advertise it either. "Someone's enthusiasm," I mumble, words groggy. "I'm just going to get breakfast, Martin," I explain. "Won't get in your way."

From up closer, the slightly purple mark looked a lot like teeth marks, and Johnny leaned in to give that mark an even closer inspection.

"You're already in my way, Webster; nothin' ya could to t'ah change that." Growling beneath his breath, Johnny looked up at him.

"Whaddya mean, someone's enthusiasm? Who'd wanna bite you?"

It's roughly at this point that I'm no longer aware if my lack of patience is because of exhaustion or because of Martin's attitude and so I bite the bullet and decide I don't want to duck and dodge around this question for weeks to come.

"My boyfriend, for one," I say, daring Martin to say something about that as I lean back heavily against the wall.

Somehow, this didn't really surprise Johnny as much as he woulda thought it would surprise him. Not that he'd thought about it, but he expected himself to at least act more surprised about it than he felt. But then again, to hell with that-- Webster wasn't anybody whose opinion mattered to Johnny.

Crossing his arms in front of his chest, Johnny raised one eyebrow. "Who in this goddamn place would wanna be datin' ya, Webster?"

This almost feels like a dream. A mad and insane dream that shouldn't be happening and I almost laugh, but I temper it and keep myself in control. "Well, sir, you already know him, so I'm not sure how my telling you is going to help."

It was almost funny how whenever Webster seemed to feel uncomfortable around Johnny, he'd start calling him "sir" and starting to be formal. Like he said, it was almost funny, but saying "fucking annoying" was actually a lot closer to what it was.

Johnny glared at him, asking, "Whaddya mean I know him? Who's it?"

As if somehow something is driving me to keep my mouth shut, I go quiet for a moment and decide that maybe tact is a good idea at this point in time. "I've been with him for six months, if we're not entirely noticeable in public, maybe I shouldn't be telling."

Chewing on the nail of his thumb, Johnny thought about this statement. Who'd been spending his time with Webster for the last few months; who'd shown so much emotion and feelings towards Webster that it could indicate...

His eyes widened, and he glared at Webster. "Ya ain't talkin' 'bout Liebgott, are ya? I thought he hated ya."

I offer a mild shrug and there's discomfort lingering in the gesture, a small happenstance of awkward body tension radiating off of me. "I would have made the exact same bet as you, sir," I admit readily. "The circumstances of how everything happened were...strange, to say the least."

Johnny leant back against the wall (he had no clue why they were havin' this conversation out in the open, but hey, if Webster didn't care, neither did Johnny), making a sweeping gesture with his hand. "Spill it; whatcha waitin' for?"

I roll my shoulders back awkwardly and glance to the side so I don't have to look him in the eye as I speak. "I woke up a woman, sir," I say, eyes upwards. "I was a woman for three days. Things got off the ground about then."

Johnny laughed, and before he knew it, he had to hold on to the wall so he wouldn't tumble over laughing. "Fuck, Web, I always knew there was somethin' not quite right 'bout ya."

I simply watch him and mutter a quiet German obscure profanity under my breath as I start to walk away and try not to let myself get dragged back it. And yet, I do. I hesitate. "It's not like it was just me. It was plenty of us, but I woke up a woman and Joe took care of me and so when things got back to normal, we just kept doing what we had been."

Johnny nearly choked on the laughter that was still bubbling up. Judging by the tone in Webster's voice, it was clear the guy hadn't just mumbled a declaration of love in German, and he couldn't help but smirk at him. After all this time, Johnny still made Webster make a complete fool of out himself; didn't even matter what he did.

"So he took care o' ya, huh? I got this feelin' this'll be the only time in ya whole life ya gon' be this close to a pair o' tits, an' then it's your own." He shook his head, still chuckling.

Everyone in Easy has made that joke at least once and I'm really not surprised by it at this point in time, so I merely cross my arms over my chest and let him have his little play of words on me. "Yes, he took care of me, and in fact, sir, they were incredible tits, thank you," I say, brow knit slightly defensively.

"So, we're together. And I'd appreciate if you left that fact alone."

Johnny rolls his eyes. "Whatever floats ya boat, Webster-- ya know, as long as ya don't take it out on me, 'cause then I'm gon' give ya a good ass-whoopin'!"

"We don't fight."

Somehow, I feel that's necessary to say because it seems like the natural assumption is to just presume that Lieb and I are as unfortunately paired as they come. "We get along, so no, I won't take anything out on you."

A part in the back of Johnny's brain felt glad for Webster and Liebgott; he'd give it all just to have his wife with him right now-- anything to be as happy as Webster seemed as he was talking about Liebgott.

But as glad as Johnny felt, he wasn't gonna let an opportunity to bring Webster down pass him by, and he smirked, "What makes ya think ya get along? What if good ol' Lieb's jus' keepin' ya 'round for entertainment?"

At this point I ought to be used to comments like these from the other Easy men, but they still aren't ever taken happily. I press my lips together thinly and arch a brow. "I'd say six months together and a couple professions of love put me past the entertainment category. I mean, one assumes and all," I intone, a little biting in my tone.

No matter how hard Webster seems to try, nothing he could say would ever make Johnny regret what he'd said. He rolled his eyes.

"Maybe ya shouldn't assume too much, Harvard boy-- I been told Liebgott got a way with words, ya know, makin' people believe things that aren't there."

I just level a long look at Martin and shake my head. "If you're really so intent on convincing him that he doesn't want me, you can do it with him. I trust him, I believe him, and I'm the one who knows that. And I'm better with words," I say, after. Almost an afterthought.

"Sure, ya can trust him-- just don't expect for anybody t'ah listen if ya come back cryin' 'cause he broke ya little heart."

Johnny rolled his eyes. Who knew, maybe Liebgott really was being serious, but that didn't mean Johnny was gonna pass out on the chance of trying to make Webster feel insecure.

"Yes, sir." It's a buzz of bemusement and slight incredulity at the situation, but it's what I muster and manage a polite smile at him. "Is this really how you want to spend all your time, here?" I wonder, finally. "Baiting me, seeing what happens? Bringing some stupid feud forward from Haguenau? Even after Landsberg, this is somehow important to you?"

"Sure, not like I got anythin' t'ah do. My best friend ain't here, neither is my wife..." As much as he hated to be showing emotion in front of Webster (well, any other kind of emotion than anger), there was the almost familiar sad and longing tone in his voice at the thought of his wife.

Johnny would never admit it - he'd rather sit down on his bayonet instead - but he envied Webster for his relationship with Liebgott. Not because Webster got to be together with Liebgott, but because he had somebody to share this place with.

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