001 ☾ tick tick boom

[betamax]

[SPAM]

[He wakes up in bed with a mouth full of ash, or at least that's how it tastes and a splitting headache like the vodka he'd been mixing his punch with finally caught up to him. But Scott said that didn't work for them, that they couldn't get drunk, let alone hungover, and anyway it wouldn't explain the taste in his mouth.

Slowly, it comes to him. The pulsating sound in the back of his head, the feeling of being drunk even when he shouldn't have been. Getting dragged somewhere, blurry, dizzying shapes passing by, looming. Hard, cold metal at his back, and then getting doused in kerosene, the shadowy figure with the booming voice asking him questions, and once everything caught up, he bolted out of bed. Lunged for the door, jerked at the handle a few times before finally just pushing. It gave way easily as panic rose, as the rest of sense memory returned; the buzzing in his head, the harsh smell coating his skin, the inside of his nose, the blurry image of cops standing over them, and he could feel himself losing it, claws pushing out of his fingertips, the growl building in his chest, but he didn't care.

They tried to kill him. It wasn't new but he was sick of it, sick of getting hurt, sick of being afraid, but he wasn't the only one who'd gotten hurt because of him this time. Scott, Malia, he needed to find them, needed to make sure they were okay, like the shadow-man had said they would be, and the howl that clawed its way from his throat as he stepped into the hallway, as he scampered down the hallway in search of familiar scents, desperate and plaintive like it had been when he was stuck in the well, was all instinct.

Help. Pack. Where are you.]


[PUBLIC -- Video]

[Later, after he's had a chance to calm down, after everything's broadened out, dulled into something he can process, something less intense, he retreats to his room. He remembers now, more clearly. He washes the gasoline off, scrubs and scrubs until he can't smell it anymore, trashes the clothes and finds the phone that isn't his, sorts through the functions before getting it set up.

Not that he has any clue what to say.

He looks more than a little lost. Looks entirely too young to be on the ship at all, but he can't do anything about that now, and judging by the determined set of his jaw he doesn't seem to think it should matter too much. He chews his lip absently, takes a breath.

Okay. He can do this. No sweat. Never mind that he's already made an impression in exactly the way he didn't want to.]

Hey. So you got stars here. That's...cool, I guess?

[Yeah nobody mind the kid who was running around as the wolf boy earlier. He's fine. You didn't see that, right?]

Comments

[americasdirtiest]

[No. Not as long as he's cornered. Not as long as he's trapped. Where Mickey comes from, backing off is one thing, and showing your throat is another. Even pinned against the wall and aching, bleeding -- even though he can sense that something's happening to Liam and probably even lay down pretty good odds on what it is -- he's not about to show his throat.

But Liam's got him so he can't use his arms, so instead, he headbutts him.]

I am now.

[betamax]

[It disrupts him plenty, shakes his grip loose as he stumbles back. Liam does his best to collect himself as he regains his balance, expression contorted in anger as eyes flash yellow. He straightens up, growl still reverberating, but holds his ground.]

Good. So go.

[americasdirtiest]

[Mickey flashes his teeth again, but it's definitely more of a grimace than a smile this time. His lip and knuckles are cut and bleeding, there are bruises coming up on his face and neck, and the ache in his shoulder and groin have him slightly hunched, but he honestly looks more exasperated than anything else. He nearly rolls his eyes.]

Do you not get how the fuck this works or something?

[Because really, he might actually have been about to leave until Liam said that. Now he couldn't even if he wanted to. That's the way it works. He shakes his head, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.]

You want to move the fuck along, then move the fuck along.

[betamax]

You're the one who was in such a rush before.

[Liam steps forward to shove him again, like he can be pushed into movement if he forces him into it. Like he can't see that Mickey's dragging his heels intentionally.]

Just go, okay? Before you make things worse.

[americasdirtiest]

Don't fucking touch me.

[He shoves back hard, then seems to change his mind: he steps forward and tries to grab the back of Liam's neck, latches onto his collar if he can't, and hauls him in the direction of downstairs. He pulls him closer so he can mutter into his ear:]

I don't give a fuck what kind of horror movie shit you can do. You think you can go all alpha wolf on me? Better keep thinking. I don't take orders. And if you keep trying it, I'll break those Miracle-Gro claws off.

[betamax]

[He tried. He did. It's what he'll tell himself later; he tried, he warned him, but he just keeps pushing, and maybe Liam should have known better, should have been the first to walk away, but he's not the only one at fault here. Mickey drags and shoves and doesn't let up, insults and threatens on top of it, and something finally snaps.]

Shut. Up.

[He throws out an arm to push him back, more force behind it than before as more rational thought retreats in the face of pure, thoughtless rage. He lunges forward to swipe with claws, pressing the attack because he just doesn't care anymore. He told him. He TOLD him.]

[fireincarnate]

[Jean tries to stay in rapport with the Barge, gentle but constant. She can't be everywhere at once, can't stop everything even if she were - but it feels better, keeping an eye on things.

And fortunately, she's heading to the deck when she feels the spikes of rage and pain and desperation. They flare in her mind like open wounds, and she races faster; she knows where they are, who's involved, before she gets to the steps.

She doesn't need to get any closer. She just needs to focus, as she hovers, not to yank them apart too roughly.]

Really? [The word will ring in their heads as much as their ears, ferocious annoyance mingled with raw concern.]

[americasdirtiest]

[Fine, he's thinking. Fuck it. He stumbles back with the shove, hissing as the claws catch him in the injured shoulder, but the wounds still don't deter him. This isn't just his father's teachings: this is his brothers, his sister, his uncles, his neighborhood, and even if he should be turning tail and heading home right now... he can't. He just can't. Or then it'll be just another monster around here who thinks he can kick Mickey Milkovich around, who can fuck with him and maybe his family, and he just can't stand that any more. Maybe that's something he should have thought about before getting into it with the guy, but it's too late now.

It's almost a relief when he feels the invisible pressure getting between them, although he's not about to show it.]

Hey! What the fuck?

[betamax]

[It echoes, cuts through the fog and pulls him up short with a frustrated snarl. He wants to break something, wants to make him BLEED, but something slips between them and pushes him back. Not that it stops him from trying, from clawing and pushing and trying to break through.]

Let me go.

[fireincarnate]

No. [It's simply her voice, this time, as she strides down the stairs. She stares at both of them in turn, appraising wounds inner and outer. Her gaze manages to be harsh and tender all at once.]

This fight isn't about either of you. Neither of you deserves it. Let it go.

[americasdirtiest]

[Outwardly, Mickey's wounded, though not seriously: a cut lip and some bruises, four shallow gashes on his already-aching shoulder where Liam's claws raked him. Inside, he's a mess, but what else is new? Even though the sound, logical part of him knows that her intervention here is a good thing, he struggles against her power all the same, snarling at Liam.]

Little bitch deserves my fist down his throat, that's what he deserves.

[But he's not going to fight her, and he settles a little as she approaches, panting and furious but still. He leans back against the wall and wipes his mouth again, turning his glare on her.]

[whatthefoxsay]

[Kira was honestly minding her own business when she made the corner. Well, kind of - since Steve established patrols, she and Peter Parker have been handling the deck most of the time. They're the ones who like the freedom of movement it affords, and Kira loves the view.

Of course, the tableau she comes upon is hardly condusive to enjoying the view. Her mouth falls open in shock, and while keeping her eyes on Liam, it's Mickey she starts moving toward.]

Oh my god, what happened?

[betamax]

She better stick around because if she doesn't I swear I'm gonna--

[He doesn't finish, opts to push against the invisible force instead, lips skinned back from teeth as he seems intent on trying to continue the fight. Mickey might be able to stand down with the obstacle in his way, but Liam's self-control isn't that good. Not when he's been pushed from already on edge because of everything to full-on pissed, and maybe he's at least half to blame for that to begin with but it's too late for finger pointing. Every inch of him is bristling with violent impulse, with the need to lash out, deserving or not, a litany of "it's all your fault" slowly starting to play on endless loop in his head the more the invisible force limits.

When the redhead approaches properly, Liam doesn't even notice right away, not past the words themselves. He's never met her before, has no reason to register, but then she draws closer and just stares. It makes him uneasy, makes him uncomfortable, but doesn't dull his feelings any.

And then Kira shows up and he's all kinds of confused. Mostly because this is the worst timing and the worst impression ever. Well. Third worst?]

You know him?!

[Of course she does, it's a small ship, but still.]

[whatthefoxsay]

[She looks faintly exasperated as she holds up her hand on either side, as if to ward off both men.]

Yes, I know him. He's a friend, like you are. Except you know, not like you, Liam. [There's a small frown as she looks back to Mickey.]

You should go. I'll help you clean up.

[fireincarnate]

[Jean is in the midst of an exaggerated eye roll when Kira comes along. Finally, something to smile about. She doesn't know the girl well, but she's always seemed kind, and certainly more sensible than these two are being.]

Please do. [She relaxes her hold on Mickey, trusting him to head for Kira instead of Liam.]

[americasdirtiest]

Oh, for fuck's sake. Seriously?

[This is directed at Liam, at Kira, as the two of them address each other. Jean's not the only one rolling her eyes.]

Beacon Hills. Christ.

[And he doesn't quite react to Kira calling him a friend, or to the direction to go with her -- in fact, he seems entirely eager to pretend he never heard either. But when Jean lets him go, he does indeed skulk in Kira's direction, shooting Liam a glare as he goes by but not actually going after him again. He rubs his injured shoulder, muttering.]

Whatever. Come on.

[betamax]

Yeah. He's a jerk.

[Says the guy who would probably go right back after him if there wasn't something preventing him from doing it.

The fact that Mickey can move where he wants and he can't yet only rankles more, the force effectively restraining him irritating and frustrating the wolf. Like there are sides, like Kira's picked Mickey, and he knows, rationally, that's stupid. She's making the smart choice, doing the same thing they all do every day. Protecting the regular people from the monsters, and he knows he's not, there's a difference between not being good at it yet and wanting to act like this, but it doesn't stop the thought anyway.]

Should have listened before.