New Fic! Hawkins RPS (first Draft)

Behind the cut, much brotherly smut and general perviness.

Any beta assistance and Brit-picking is appreciated.

Do not read if you are uninterested in homoerotic/incestual man loving.  Also, this is an RPS.  Do not read if you intend to prosecute.  This is a work of total fiction.

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Friends and Lack Thereof

Noticed an odd pattern to today's journal readings.  Both bemysty and ragepoint wrote about the lack of friends or rather lack of need of friends that they have.  I'm in the same boat.  I have a lot of people I prefer to associate with over others, but do I have any friends?  No, not really.  Sandy maybe, but I haven't seen her in a good few months.  The last friend I had was over six years ago and I don't know what ever happened to her.  I"m assuming (hopefully) that she's all grown up now and doing her own thing.  (And if you're out there 'Bait, just let me know you grew up ok.)  Do I miss having a best friend to be so open with?  Sometimes.  I sure could have used someone to talk to on Friday night.  Ended up curling on top of the washing machine and crying it out.  Do I miss people in general on a day to day basis when I'm doing well?  No.

I think I could be a hermit and quite enjoy it.  I live in my head a lot anyway.  I know it dates back to being a small child.  Remember sitting in the Pre-K yard by myself just thiking while everyone else was playing.  Don't know what originated it though.  Upbringing?  Genetics?  Intellectual makeup?  Abuse?  Who knows what kind of twisted stuff my birth mother did to me before I can remember.

For the most part, I love my husband.  Hell, he puts up with me, no mean feat.  Is he my 'best' friend?  No.  Does he see all of me?  No, only what I choose to show him or what slips out accidentally.  Perhaps that's more telling of the future of our relationship.  I don't know who I am, so how can I be myself around him?  How can he love me (like he says he does, or used to say he does) when I don't love me?  When I just tolerate me 'cause that's all I have?

You can't abide my showing fatigue
When you come home just to relay
All the events that made your heart bleed
And the ones that ruined your day

So many issues we should address
'Cos our lives just don't correlate
All the emotions that we suppress
Bite our tongues until it's too late

We're not as close
As everybody thinks
In the eye of the storm
We keep each other warm

So wanted to write this to the guy I was talking to on Friday night while my husband was chatting up the other ladies at the bar.

Played guitar for four hours on Saturday while he was at work and got myself back more or less on the level again.  Better than lithium salts, I swear.  Pop a Gibson in my hand and I feel better.

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In more upbeat news, helped my mother in law paint her ceiling again.  'White Chocolate' was the colour.  Painting over tobacco sludge is the worst.  Yuck.  But it does look much better now.  She ordered her new carpet from Lowes and it should be in shortly.  Can't believe she is going with bright red (she's had a dark tan for 28 years).  Whatever.  She's old enough to be eccentric and have it be cool instead of freaky.  As long as she doesn't start dying her hair blue she'll still be cool.  Wish I was actually her child.  She's a good mum.  Bought us Rudy's for dinner too.  Shrimpies... yuuum.  Only thing I've eaten today.  Too bad they were fried.  Makes me want to puke with the amount of grease.  I think I'll try keeping them down and just take a laxative.  I cannot stand having anything that nasty in my body anymore.  Disgusting feeling.

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And other times, I just sit back and think, 'what the ruddy hell am I doing here?'

Maybe I should just up and move and buy that little crofter's shack and be alone.  Somewhere on the west coast of Scotland, right near the ocean where it's cold and damp and harsh.