Shelter From the Storm
Author: Ande
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, but Vince said I could borrow them if I promised
to play nice *eg* Not saying that they did this, I just *really* wish they
had!
Rating: Not real sure... R maybe
Content: Angst, language, implied slash
Pairing: 'Taker and Shane-o (Taker's POV)
Lyrics: Stolen from the song Shelter From the Storm, written by Bob Dylan,
no
infringement intended.
Spoilers: None, really
Note: Ok, I am reposting this in case anyone missed it... I changed a few
things to update it, but other than that, it's done... and I didn't write
anymore to it. *runs* This is the end of this part of it, but I swear a
companion is in the making right now! Don't blame me for it- blame Mark!!!
Shelter From the Storm
Wow. Yippy. Yee-fucking-haw. Another year, another dreadfully boring
Thanksgiving dinner party. Oh, everyone else seems to be having a good time,
and I really should be too, considering that this is my favorite fucking
holiday.
You know, you'd think I would be the party lover, wouldn't you? I mean, I am
the one who rides around on my bike, raising hell, and pillaging the
neighborhood ... aren't I? Yeah, well, that's what you'd think, anyway.
Truth is that I'm a tired old man still trying to compete in a young man's
sport,
and I would like nothin' better than to settle down in a nice modest
house, with a nice white picket fence, maybe, with a nice young man...
And the one I want is sitting at the bar across the room trying to drown
his
sorrows in whatever bottle is in front of him. Judging from the shape,
I'd say it's a bottle of Jack Daniels. Damn, he sure does drink a lot of that
stuff, even for my standards. He always seems unhappy about his life, about
the choices he's made, and I can't say I blame him. He's never done anything
for himself, and surely by now it's taken it's toll on him.
~*~
'Twas in another lifetime, one of toil and blood
When blackness was a virtue and the road was full of mud
I came in from the wilderness, a creature void of form.
"Come in," she said, "I'll give ya shelter from the storm."
~*~
I know I shouldn't be getting up from my table and walkin' over to him, but
here I am doing just that. I know I don't have a chance in Hell with him,
we've been down that road before, and it all went up in flames about two
years ago when he said I just wasn't what he was searching for. What he
really meant was that he wasn't searchin' for what I had become, the drinking
and addiction. I know that now, I knew that then.
Broke my heart to set him free, though, and I sometimes wish
I wouldn't have.
But you know what they say about when you love someone...
What, you think just because I am the tough as nails demonic biker from hell
that I don't have fucking feelings too? You really believe all that
bullshit
you see on your TV screen and in the magazines, don't you? Jesus,
I am fucking human, and my heart was broken by the only man I will ever
love, and
all you can do is stare at me like a moron.
Typical response.
"Hey, Shane, if ya wanted to drown, it'd be easier to tie
boulders to yer ankles and dive in the hotel pool, ya know?" God,
do I really sound that damn... *southern*? I thought for sure my accent was all but gone...
Guess I should listen to myself more often, huh?
He doesn't even look up at me when I rest my hand on his shoulder and
sit on
the stool next to him. Not that I expected him to, because the bottle is
nearly empty and I seriously doubt he could lift his head if he wanted to. I
can almost remember when I was like that... Fuck that, I know I can't
remember what I was like then, but I know I wasn't easy to live with.
Like I
said, I know I'm the one that fucked things up between us, even if I can't
exactly remember what the hell I did to do it.
"Shoul'nt you be out somm'nin' demons or sumin'?" He slurs as he glances his
eyes up at me. I can't help but laugh at that quirky grin he has on his face,
and, god, he sounds like Daffy Duck on that one Bugs Bunny cartoon,
you know,
the one where Daffy fell into that vat of wine or whatever the hell it was.
Jesus, I miss him.
"Yeah, well, ya know I don't like the competition." There's a sparkle in my
eye, I can feel it. I always get it when I look at him, when I am near him,
and his face brightens just slightly when I lift his chin up and stare at
him. I really hadn't planned on just starin' at him, but hell, I just get
lost in his glazed-over brown eyes, and no matter how hard I try to speak,
the words just stick in my throat.
~*~
And if I pass this way again, you can rest assured
I'll always do my best for her, on that I give my word
In a world of steel-eyed death, and men who are fighting to be warm.
"Come in," she said, "I'll give ya shelter from the storm."
~*~
"I tink you shoul take me to ma room, Takey... Don tink I cun walk on ma
own"
His silly slurs break the hold his eyes have on me, and I throw some money
on
the bar as place an arm around his waist and lift him to his feet.
Everyone just kinda stares at us as we walk across the bar, and I know they are
rememberin' how many times they used to watch him drag me out of 'em in a
drunken stupor.
They all felt sorry for him, I know, but I don't see the sympathy in
their eyes for me. Hell, I don't blame 'em, I know it's my fault he's like this.
I
don't know *how* the fuck it's my fault, I just know it is and so do
they. They just look at me with that "It's about damn time you take responsibility
for your actions" look, and all I can do is hang my head in shame
as we get into the elevator.
They are right, I know. About me takin' responsibility, I mean.
I don't know
why the hell I have blamed Shane all this time for something I caused.
Sometimes I wish I had never fallen so far down the spiral to Hell, but I
know if I start dwelling on it, then I will retrace the path that almost
destroyed the only important thing in this world to me.
~*~
Not a word was spoke between us, there was little risk involved
Everything up to that point had been left unresolved.
Try imagining a place where it's always safe and warm.
"Come in," she said, "I'll give ya shelter from the storm."
~*~ He's doin' his best not to pass out, and I'll be damned if I know what
the hell he's mumbling about to keep himself from doing it, but I am fully aware
of his warm breath on my chest, his hands wrapped around my neck as the
elevator doors open to let us out. I have to half carry him down the hall,
and I really had no idea how much I miss feeling his body next to mine until
now.
I don't know how he managed to get the keycard out of his pocket,
but I am sliding it in the little slot on the door at this very moment,
and... FUCK! he's tracing small circles across the tendons in my neck with his tongue.
I gotta be honest, here, and tell ya that I have no idea how the hell I am
going to keep from taking advantage of him while he's in this state.
He slides out of my arms when the door opens, and I'm pretty surprised he can
keep his balance. He takes his dinner jacket off and it falls to the floor
in
a heap. I can remember when he would bitch endlessly at me for doing shit
like that.
~Don't throw my clothes on the floor, Mark. You will ruin them.~
~Mark, how many times do I have to tell you about my clothes?~
~Jesus, Mark, I just told you not to do that!~
~I love you, Mark, even if you ruin my clothes.~
~I love you, Mark~
~*~
Suddenly I turned around and she was standin' there
With silver bracelets on her wrists and flowers in her hair.
She walked up to me so gracefully and took my crown of thorns.
"Come in," she said, "I'll give ya shelter from the storm."
~*~
"Ya gonna stan' in the hallway all night, Mark?" His voice
snaps me back to
the present, even though he barely whispers the question into the
silence. The only thing I really made out was my name, but I can hear him say
that even when he isn't sayin' nothin' at all. The look in his eyes tells me
what
the words to the question were, and I cautiously walk into
the room and shut
the door.
Not that I am afraid of him, of course, even if he could hurt me
-and he could- I know he wouldn't. I am afraid of all the feelings that have
come rushing back to me in a dizzying frenzy. My eyes lose focus for a second,
and
when my vision reforms, he is standing about 5 feet from me, wearin'
nothin'
but his favorite pair of silver silk boxers and that beautiful
smile that melts anyone who sees it.
He is so beautiful. His skin the perfect shade of pale white-pink,
his hair and eyes so dark in contrast, his lips a beautiful pale crimson. How
could I
have let such a beautiful creature go? I mean, why wasn't he
enough for me? Why wasn't he my crutch? He sacrificed everything I asked him to,
and all I could do was throw it back at him. How could I have been so stupid?
And can I fix it now, after all this time?
~*~
Now there's a wall between us, somethin' there's been lost
I took too much for granted, got my signals crossed.
Just to think that it all began on a long-forgotten morn.
"Come in," she said, "I'll give ya shelter from the storm."
~*~
"Now that you are in the room, are you gonna stand in the doorway
all night?"
He doesn't sound all that drunk to me at this point, and he seems to
be walking toward me just fine. As a matter of fact, he seems to be doing
everything just fine right now. Nice to know he's still a sneaky bastard.
Glad some things don't change.
"Ya aren't drunk, are ya, Shane?" He gives me that devilish
grin of his as he
stops and sits on the edge of the bed. Nah, he ain't drunk, but
I can tell he's rethinkin' this whole damn plan of his because he's shakin'.
"Ya don't have to go through with this, Shane. I can just turn around and
walk out the door and we can go back to the way it was." There's a glint in
his eyes, and I can tell he's trying to hold back the tears that are
threatenin' to fall. Fuck.
I walk over to him and crouch down on my knees in front of him. I reach up
and gently wipe the moisture from his eyes with the pad of my thumb. He
flinches slightly, which confuses the hell out of me. "What's wrong, Baby?"
He looks down at his hands and a low sob starts from his throat.
"I want it to be the way it was before, Mark." God damn, his voice is barely
a whisper, but I hear him loud and clear. I was hopin' he'd say he
wants me to stay, that he wants to give me another chance, but that's not gonna
happen, I can see that now. I have turned into such a hopeless romantic, and
I have to get the hell outta here before I start cryin' in front of
him. "Ok,
if that's what you want, I'll leave" I tell him without even
lookin' at him. As I stand and turn to leave, I feel a slight pressure on my elbow.
I turn around to ask what else he wants, but my words die as he pulls me down
to him
and crushes my lips with his. I lose track of all space in
time as his tongue
parts my lips, and the warm, familiar feeling of his
exploration of it takes
total control over my entire body.
It's almost as if we hadn't broke up, the way we still know each other's
mouths, the way our tongues move in the same frantic pattern of harmony they
did two years ago. I could let him kiss me like this for all eternity,
but I
guess I should let him breathe, so I reluctantly break the kiss.
His knees give out on him when I let go, and he falls breathlessly atop
the bed. His eyes are still closed and his cheeks are flushed as he tries to
adopt some sort of rhythmic breathin' pattern. I had forgotten how beautiful
he is after a kiss such as the one we had. So beautiful and fragile,
in fact,
that I could stand here like the idiot I feel and watch him forever.
~*~
Well, the deputy walks on hard nails and the preacher rides a mount
But nothing really matters much, it's doom alone that counts
And the one-eyed Undertaker, he blows a futile horn.
"Come in," she said, "I'll give ya shelter from the storm."
~*~
Panic hits me like a ton of bricks, and I don't know why, but I have to get
out of here. I *have* to get the hell away from him. I know this is what I
said I wanted. I know that I have been tryin' to figure out how to fix what I
did wrong and start over again.
But, fuck, I don't know if I can make it better with everything that's
happened. I don't know if the man I have become is the man he wants me to
be,
or if I even want the man he's become. Two years is a long damn time to be
apart in my book, and I don't want this to be just another fuck. I don't
want
to be the one he turned to simply because he was lonely and I was there.
I don't want to be what I made him into two years ago.
So I do the only thing I know to do: I haul ass out of his room and
don't look back.
~*~
I was burned out from exhaustion, buried in the hail,
Poisoned in the bushes an' blown out on the trail,
Hunted like a crocodile, ravaged in the corn.
"Come in," she said, "I'll give ya shelter from the storm."
~*~
By the time I get to my own hotel room, I'm bawlin' like a baby. Glad I
didn't pass anyone I know on the way here, 'cause I know I woulda
smashed their face in had they even gave me a second glance. Hell, I probably
woulda
smashed 'em if they looked at me at all. I hate for people to see me cry;
no
one's supposed to know I'm a big baby instead of a big badass.
No one besides Shane, that is.
I fumble with the cardkey and slam the door behind me once I'm in
the shelter
of my room. Shelter? HA! It's a fuckin' prison. Cold. Dark. Lonely.
So goddamned lonely it makes me cry again.
I don't even bother turning on the light as I walk toward my bed,
shedding my
clothes along the way. I really don't see the point of it;
all I will see is
how fuckin' empty my room is. How fuckin' empty my life is.
I trip over something that is too damn large to be the boot I flung across
the room, I begin to think that the light might've been a good idea. As I
ponder what the hell it is I tripped over, I hear a groan that definitely
isn't from my throat.
"You could've turned on a light, you know?" A half asleep,
half awake Dwayne
grumbles at me from under his pillow. Well, fuck. I forgot
he was crashin' on
my floor tonight. So much for bein' able to cry alone in the dark.
"You coulda slept in the bathtub, ya know?" I sigh at him.
I know I sound like I been cryin', and I don't even care if he notices either.
If he asks, I'll just tell him to mind his own damn business and remind him
that I didn't
press the issue when he was cryin' over Jerky earlier tonight.
All the same, I take sanctuary in the bathroom, just in case.
I really don't
want to have to deal with him right now. I mean, he's
a great friend and all,
and one hell of a listener, but there's only so
many "it'll all be okay"s I can take before I want to smash his head in, ya know?
For about three minutes maybe there is silence.
Three whole minutes. Damn- he's bein' nicer tonight than usual.
"Something wrong, man?" he asks me through the bathroom door,
and I mumble a
"nah" and hope it's enough to make him go away, but I know it's not.
"You should talk to him, you know. I know for a fact he's miserable. Just
talk to
him. It'll all be ok."
Jesus-fuck, here we go again. "Thanks for the advice, Mom"
I grumble sarcastically through the door. "I already told you that I'm not
puttin' him
through this shit again, so just leave it alone, man."
I can't help but
wonder how many times I have said that in the last few days.
Probly more than
I've said it in my whole damn life.
"Look, he just took what you said to Vince the wrong way is all.
You know how
sensitive he is."
"I said drop it, man. I mean, it's not like it should matter
anyway, right?"
Oh fuck. I just opened up a whole new fuckin' conversation with that
question, but I really don't think it *should* matter to Shane what
the fuck
I said, or what I meant by it. It's not like we've been together
for, oh, two
fuckin' years, now.
"It does matter, Mark, and you know it. You know
what you were saying, I know
what you were saying, and everyone else in the Fed
knows what you were saying. But what I'm trying to make you see is that
if it didn't matter to
*Shane*, he wouldn't have taken it the wrong way."
~*~
I've heard newborn babies wailin' like a mournin' dove
And old men with broken teeth stranded without love.
Do I understand your question, man, is it hopeless and forlorn?
"Come in," she said, "I'll give ya shelter from the storm."
~*~
Well, shit, when I look at it that way... "So what the fuck do you
propose I
do? I already told him what the fuck I meant by the "us" comment
to Vince, and he didn't believe me." I state as I open the door and look at him.
He just smiles at me like he knows somethin' I don't.
"What the fuck is that look for?" As if on cue, there's a knock
at the door and Dwayne strolls over to answer it like he already knew it
was gonna happen. Fucker probly did. He stands in front of the door so
I can't see who's there, but I already know who it is;
I'd know that smell if my nose
spontaneously fell off my face.
Now I know why he gave me those three minutes
of silence.
If ya'll don't see Dwayne ever again, know that it was me who
killed the meddlin' bastard...
Dwayne excuses himself from the room, and Shane just stands awkwardly
in the
doorway. The rational part of my brain- yes, I *do* have a rational part,
believe it or not- wants me to go over and tell him to leave. Wants to tell
him that it's not worth the hurt I know I'm gonna put him through eventually.
When he closes the door behind him, I fully intend to tell him what
I think, but there it is- that smile. The one that melts my heart and makes my
knees weak. You know the one, right? You've seen him smile before. It's the
dropdead-sexyashell-iloveyou-fuckme smile, and I remember now why I never
listen to the rational side- if I do, then I don't get to see that smile...
I am *so* fucked...
~*~ Well, I'm livin' in a foreign country, but I'm bound to cross
the line.
Beauty walks a razor's edge, someday I'll make it mine.
If I could only turn back the clock to when God and her were born.
"Come in," she said, "I'll give ya shelter from the storm."
~*~
*******The End********
Again, I swear I am working on the companion to this!!!! *hides*
~Eva~
e-mail Eva feedback @: [email protected]
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