i was trying to to be nice, but since you mentioned it, i have an album on my phone called "embry's ass dimples" and tmz on my contacts list. you need to be my date. don't be cute about it. sober, combed hair, and anything but another tom ford suit.
all the dior in the world can't buy you class. you know how many people would be happy to see my ass dimples? are you planning on wearing a paper bag over your head during this favor? don't call it that. you can be my dateless plus one to whatever reptile gathering you have on your calendar.
you know how many people have already seen them, whore? you're my plus one. don't get confused. and i'm only bringing you because you're the vice president and semi-decent to look at.
at least people want to see mine. no risk of a vagina with teeth attacking them when they go down there. i retract my previously agreeable tone. where do you want me to go? i don't trust you.
Mr. Fuller has stepped away for the afternoon, but I suspect I’ll need to have a formal apology sent on his behalf to the hospital staff. The nurses seem afraid, even if he’s been nothing but insistently polite. I’d guess you get my meaning.
I’ll write it if you wouldn’t mind looking it over and signing it for the sake of authenticity.
Thank you so mu Why did you You could have been hurt or Ash would never forgive I don’t deserve that sort of I close my eyes and I’m still trapped in that room.
It was a bad attempt at a joke. It’s a little awkward to start conversations after what happened - I don’t know. I’m sorry. It was in poor taste.
[ ouch. he really had stewed over that message, to find a more light hearted way to say hawkins has left and the coast is clear and that sitting in this stupid room alone gives him the creeps. ]
I think Hawk ate some. But not too sure cointreau is on the doctor’s orders. Concussions and alcohol - I think they might be bad news. It’s very kind of you to drop them off. You could have woken me so I could thank you in person. It’s the least I could do.
Edited (i am the typo queen ) 2024-01-30 00:29 (UTC)
oh, fuck. you're so serious i didn't know it was a joke. it's not in poor taste. even if it was, i love poor taste.
sure. my stepsister sent me a box once, so i have her to thank for introducing me to magical, boozy truffles. i didn't want to wake you. felt too much like disturbing a sleeping rabbit. you had a visitor anyway. ash had just stepped out to talk to the doctors or something.
[ which was embry's cue to get the fuck out. ]
you need anything over there or is hawkins keeping you supplied with the basics? food? drink? books?
No, it was in poor taste. I apologize. I guess I really am too serious. You're not the first to say that.
[ you're no fun - how often has he heard that? he does know how to have fun, but his work will almost always come first. especially considering he works for the president of all people.
god, count on him to be so uptight and serious even now. even when he has every right to be a mess. ]
Everyone visiting while I was asleep, and now it's a veritable desert island. All of you are very predictable - easier to leave while you can before I hound all of you for not doing your work.
[ see? he's not fun. he's even sick of himself sometimes. isn't all that what got him here in this hospital bed in the first place? ]
I can't keep anything down. No books, but he does try to make me eat occasionally. You dodged the question, by the way. How are you? Really.
i'm never gonna complain about a joke at hawkins' expense. he really left for the afternoon? he's been sending me briefs but i haven't been able to catch up with him. i haven't spent much time in the office, either. it's good he's looking after you. ash, too.
[ it's good. because tim deserves it, and embry deserves his stash of morphine and a string of sleepless, shitty nights in a row. ]
are they feeding you hospital food? i'll bring you takeout. whatever you want. and a book. you like poetry? i told you, the rescue was a success. i couldn't be better.
Somebody needs to. Poor kid isn't sleeping a wink.
[casual. disconnected. like he's just doing everyone a favor, not that the love of his life was kidnapped and tortured and almost could have fucking died.]
I got them. Sounds like good old Damek is willing to play ball with us on the proposed Carpathian treaty.
Fairly sure you don't need a PhD to know it's an incredibly stupid idea to do that.
But speaking of, you should see a doctor. If you don't want anyone to know I'll drive you outside of the district myself. Grease a few hands, make excuses for your absence.
he's not like us, you mean. how well do you know him? i want to send him a get well bottle.
good thing you don't have a phd OR an md, so your opinions on the matter aren't sound or relevant.
[ there is literally nothing else he'd like less than to sit in the car for an hour with hawk while he drives him to some quack doctor outside of dc. he has a doctor in the white house that he likes. dr. ninian has given him plenty of actually sound advice and even kept his bout of mono quiet. he just doesn't want this getting back to ash when he's seen how all of this has weighed so heavily on him, tension and worry coiled tight in his body — for tim. for someone actually deserving of that kind of concern.
it had taken all of five minutes upon returning for embry to feel unbalanced, both hawk and ash's care for tim filling the entire room. it'd been the easiest thing in the world to slip away to lick his own wounds in solitude — his wounds being at first glance just some bad scrapes and bruises, but his ribs have bloomed a deep purple since then, every breath and movement painful, so he's sure he bruised them at best and fractured something at worst. good thing hawk can't see his google search history. ]
you want me to see a doctor because you found recreational drugs in my room? why don't you just ask ash about my long history of bad habits and keep it moving?
( in another state, then. on island time. ash imagines his little prince alone on a beach somewhere, looking melancholy and lovely for the sea, and feels pangs in his chest that sound like heartbreak, that taste like jealousy. )
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embry moore.
text.
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i'm not doing anything that's gonna get me impeached.
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you need to be my date. don't be cute about it. sober, combed hair, and anything but another tom ford suit.
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are you planning on wearing a paper bag over your head during this favor?
don't call it that. you can be my dateless plus one to whatever reptile gathering you have on your calendar.
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you're my plus one. don't get confused. and i'm only bringing you because you're the vice president and semi-decent to look at.
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i retract my previously agreeable tone. where do you want me to go? i don't trust you.
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text; from his hospital bed
I’ll write it if you wouldn’t mind looking it over and signing it for the sake of authenticity.
Thank you so muWhy did you
You could have been hurt or
Ash would never forgive
I don’t deserve that sort of
I close my eyes and I’m still trapped in that room.
How are you feeling?
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[ tim. yikes. he needs a therapist, not embry. ]
you're back, so i'm great.
did you like the truffles i left? the cointreau and white chocolate ones are supposed to be a hit.
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It’s a little awkward to start conversations after what happened - I don’t know.
I’m sorry. It was in poor taste.
[ ouch. he really had stewed over that message, to find a more light hearted way to say hawkins has left and the coast is clear and that sitting in this stupid room alone gives him the creeps. ]
I think Hawk ate some.
But not too sure cointreau is on the doctor’s orders. Concussions and alcohol - I think they might be bad news.
It’s very kind of you to drop them off.
You could have woken me so I could thank you in person. It’s the least I could do.
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it's not in poor taste. even if it was, i love poor taste.
sure. my stepsister sent me a box once, so i have her to thank for introducing me to magical, boozy truffles.
i didn't want to wake you. felt too much like disturbing a sleeping rabbit.
you had a visitor anyway. ash had just stepped out to talk to the doctors or something.
[ which was embry's cue to get the fuck out. ]
you need anything over there or is hawkins keeping you supplied with the basics?
food? drink? books?
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I apologize.
I guess I really am too serious. You're not the first to say that.
[ you're no fun - how often has he heard that? he does know how to have fun, but his work will almost always come first. especially considering he works for the president of all people.
god, count on him to be so uptight and serious even now. even when he has every right to be a mess. ]
Everyone visiting while I was asleep, and now it's a veritable desert island.
All of you are very predictable - easier to leave while you can before I hound all of you for not doing your work.
[ see? he's not fun. he's even sick of himself sometimes. isn't all that what got him here in this hospital bed in the first place? ]
I can't keep anything down.
No books, but he does try to make me eat occasionally.
You dodged the question, by the way. How are you? Really.
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he really left for the afternoon? he's been sending me briefs but i haven't been able to catch up with him. i haven't spent much time in the office, either.
it's good he's looking after you. ash, too.
[ it's good. because tim deserves it, and embry deserves his stash of morphine and a string of sleepless, shitty nights in a row. ]
are they feeding you hospital food? i'll bring you takeout. whatever you want.
and a book. you like poetry?
i told you, the rescue was a success. i couldn't be better.
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the lion the witch and the audacity of this bitch
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text > action, a few days after tim's kidnapping
I dropped by your room and you weren't there, obviously.
Embry - we need to talk.
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supervising? you mean being the unpaid bouncer at tim's door?
i had a drink or two at lunch. talk later.
i sent you my notes.
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[casual. disconnected. like he's just doing everyone a favor, not that the love of his life was kidnapped and tortured and almost could have fucking died.]
I got them. Sounds like good old Damek is willing to play ball with us on the proposed Carpathian treaty.
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Last time I checked, gin doesn't mix well with morphine.
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[ what the fuck. never??? ]
all that time in the hospital made you a doctor?
i'm reading briefs. talk later.
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Fairly sure you don't need a PhD to know it's an incredibly stupid idea to do that.
But speaking of, you should see a doctor. If you don't want anyone to know I'll drive you outside of the district myself. Grease a few hands, make excuses for your absence.
Come on.
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how well do you know him? i want to send him a get well bottle.
good thing you don't have a phd OR an md, so your opinions on the matter aren't sound or relevant.
[ there is literally nothing else he'd like less than to sit in the car for an hour with hawk while he drives him to some quack doctor outside of dc. he has a doctor in the white house that he likes. dr. ninian has given him plenty of actually sound advice and even kept his bout of mono quiet. he just doesn't want this getting back to ash when he's seen how all of this has weighed so heavily on him, tension and worry coiled tight in his body — for tim. for someone actually deserving of that kind of concern.
it had taken all of five minutes upon returning for embry to feel unbalanced, both hawk and ash's care for tim filling the entire room. it'd been the easiest thing in the world to slip away to lick his own wounds in solitude — his wounds being at first glance just some bad scrapes and bruises, but his ribs have bloomed a deep purple since then, every breath and movement painful, so he's sure he bruised them at best and fractured something at worst. good thing hawk can't see his google search history. ]
you want me to see a doctor because you found recreational drugs in my room?
why don't you just ask ash about my long history of bad habits and keep it moving?
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text.
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direct all messages to mr. hawkins fuller.
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You're alone then. Answer when I call.
( incoming phone call )
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