#he's going to use hob's credit card to overcompensate for his feelings

[gourmet-trash]

this is probably gonna be less cohesive than the silly shit i usually post but i cannot stop thinking about it! as always highly, highly self indulgent.

So over the course of the last few months? Years maybe? Human time is ridiculous, frankly. But for however long it's been, it's obvious that they've developed some sort of function in their dysfunctional little group. Corinthian wouldn't say family, because they're not. Not him or Gadling, at least. And frankly Desire is closer in the bloodline, but they're all still tiptoeing around that point.

Well the rest of them are tiptoeing. Corinthian has made several very loud, very clear threats to indicate exactly where he stands on that front. It's one of the few things he and Dream readily and wholeheartedly agree on, actually.

Not the point.

The point is that whatever the hell it is they have, it's something. And it's...good, actually. Caring for things is something Corinthian knows he doesn't do well; it's either not at all or far, far, too much. To a point where it's usually better to shove it back down into the 'not at all' category. But the Walkers have wormed their way under his skin and burrowed too deep into whatever sort of heart he may have for him to deny that he keeps them there.

Sure, he's technically supposed to be doing the work of a Nightmare, pushing other humans to confront their (outrageously well founded, it turns out) fears of dentistry or some shit. But instead, he spends most of his time pushing the Walkers to overcome their fears of other things.

"Why the hell wouldn't you get that scholarship, Rosebud? I've seen the stuff you've written, and what you end up writing in the Library, and it's better than anything those other hacks would submit. Their prose is fucking awful."

"Jed, so help me God, if you spend one more day moping about that boy who looks like a damn toe, I'm gonna make him disappear so you might finally forgot about him!"

He figures he's all right, since Dream hasn't shooed him back out of the Waking World yet. Though there was a close call when he finally figured out about the whole "stabbing the immortal" thing. Apparently having explicit consent still wasn't enough to stab a guy? Ridiculous.

Gadling still lets him, of course. It's their thing.

It's also the only reason he continues to put up with the amount of stupid shit Gadling always feels compelled to talk about. Definitely the only reason.

"Stop making that face at me," he says without turning his head back towards the bar, instead watching Jed hurry to the back to get his bookbag out of Gadling's apartment. With a fucking key, mind you, because they're finally locking the damn door.

"Not sure what face you mean," Gadling lies, and sure enough, when Corinthian finally turns back, he's smirking at him. That annoying expression that says Gadling knows more than he should. Or, at least, that he thinks he does, and is wrong, which is more likely. Really.

Corinthian clicks his tongue, annoyed, and takes another sip of his beer. "You know, I think I remember you being less annoying when we met."

Gadling laughs outright at that. "Oh, really? Because that isn't how you acted."

"Didn't say how much less annoying."

Still chuckling, Gadling leans across the bar and kisses his cheek, because he's a pathetic sap. And Corinthian lets him, but only because why shouldn't he accept the attention of his hot bartender?

"I think it's sweet, is all," Gadling says when he leans back, of course after he's out of easy biting range.

Corinthian would roll his eyes if he had any. "What? Telling the kid to get his shit? Rose is gonna be here to pick him up any minute now."

Gadling is smirking at him again. "So?"

"So?" he repeats, scowling across the bar. "They're meeting that Lyta woman for dinner, and if Jed waits for Rose to get here to get his bag, she's gonna get distracted talking to you about some school shit, and then they're gonna go sprinting out of here late."

The way Gadling's expression softens does not make him any happier to be having this conversation.

"I know, Cor," he says, eyes crinkling in the corners, crows feet he's had since the fucking Middle Ages creasing the skin.

"Then why the hell are you--" the bell chiming over The New Inn's door cuts him off, and sure enough, Rose walks in, checking her watch as she goes. "Hey Rosebud," he calls, grateful for something else to talk about. Or at least someone else to talk to.

"Oh, hey! Is Jed ready?" she asks, looking around the pub.

As if summoned, her little brother -- who has gained several inches in height and will probably need new pants again, Corinthian realizes -- comes barrelling down the stairs and into the main room. "I'm here! I'm ready!"

Rose relaxes, smiling at him, but she turns towards the bar regardless. "Oh, by the way, Professor! I wanted to ask you about that--" "Rose, come on! I'm hungry!" Jed protests, pushing her towards the door.

"Ugh, fine! I'll email you, Professor!" she says waving at them both.

Despite all his previous urgency for dinner, it's Jed who turns around at the last minute and rushes back to the bar.

Corinthian raises an eyebrow. "You forget something kid?" he asks, only to find two gangly arms hooked around his waist in lieu of an answer, squeezing briefly but tightly.

Before he has a chance to figure out why the hell he's getting hugged, much less move to ask (or return it?), Jed is already rushing back out after Rose, calling over his shoulder, "Bye Uncle Cor!"

And just like that, they're out the door, bell jingling behind them, the chime of it ringing in his ears longer than he's ever heard it ring before. Corinthian doesn't even realize he's been staring, dumbfounded, at the spot where they'd last been until there's a warm hand on his forearm, seeping through his jacket and up to his elbow, drawing his attention.

Gadling's expression is soft again, but he can't find it in himself to be irritated by it. There's no room. Not when something else has started bubbling in his chest, effervescent and sharp and too hard to make sense of for him to try right now.

Gadling doesn't say anything, but when he leans across the bar again, Corinthian dips closer, feels lips against his forehead and warm, warm, warm.

He'll pick it all apart later, he knows. Tear at the nuance until there's nothing but shreds and doubt left behind. And further down, tucked away and rarely looked at, he suspects the Walkers will unknowingly bandage all those little shreds back together until there's nothing left to do but accept the way they've rebuilt their world and built all of them (him?) into it.

Whatever the hell it is they have is something good. And maybe even better than that.

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