singillatim | (closed) may catch-all

Entry tags:

(closed) may catch-all

Who: Bigby (

bigbaddy), Billy (

notarat) and various other people.
What: A collection of various non-event things for May!
When: During all of May.
Where: Around Milton.

Content Warnings: Discussion of murder, discussion of homophobia, drinking, smoking

( I'm putting down some closed starters in this log, but if you also want a closed starter or want to do something with either of them outside of the event, just let me know and I'll gladly throw up a starter! Contact me either through a PM to my journals or over on Plurk at

queeningsquare. )

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"Oh my God."

Hell is other people, March. Holland's hands immediately fly to where his cigarette pack would be and drop a second after.

"No. I'm saying we, Wynonna and I, get it. And us. But Little doesn't, and that little wet towel of a man might not handle it well. Best to just avoid him."

If March would have had any other reaction, Bigby might have been inclined to file it under the 'suspicious denial' category - but considering the specific wording and the look in the other man's eyes, Bigby is pretty sure that 'no' is for real.

The explanation that follows seems more likely, anyway. As to the way March may think about it, as opposed to actual reality.

"See, that's the thing." Bigby leans back in his seat a little bit. "I don't think either you or Wynonna 'get it.' That's the whole problem. You two are the exact same kind of person."

At least - in the specific ways in which Edward is nothing like them, Bigby thinks. Wynonna and March always try to underplay their own emotions, act like they don't have feelings. It feels like the sort of thing that's going to explode in the messiest way possible sooner or later when rubbing up against each other like this.

"Do you even realise what that kind of shit leads to?"

He feels wildy uncomfortable now, and not in the way some off-handed remark can save. This is weirdly raw. Something about staring into the abyss and having it wink back, maybe.

Whatever it is, he's not used to people flipping the questions and the tables around to him. Especially not when they're right. Bigby's a good detective. He kind of hates it right now.

"Yeah, everything staying groovy," he points out. He shifts a little forward.

"I really don't care who she's doing what with. She could tell me she's getting married tomorrow and I'd be fine with it. Wynonna getting married would be the funniest joke I could think of happening here of all places, but the point is, it really is cool."

His eyes narrow. The corner of his lips twitch up.

"Why?" He asks, and the small smile turns into a grin. He forces himself to keep a straight face.

"You, uh.... You care, huh? About me? Just a little?"

Bigby leans his head back, letting out a sigh that almost sounds like he's getting tortured by that very question March is throwing his way. And here he thought talk of March and Wynonna's relationship-- situationship, whatever it is, was bad enough. But then March just had to go ahead and ask that question of all things, huh.

When he moves his head back to a normal position, he moves up his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"You know those ads they put in newspapers with the sad pictures of the dogs at the shelter? Y'know, the ones where they beg you to adopt those sad little dogs no one else wants to have?" He lowers his hand. "It's like that. That's the feeling you inspire in me, March."

In other words: yes, he does care.

But with a side of him worrying about March being pathetic enough that he'll get himself killed in this place if someone isn't looking out for him. And if that person has to be Bigby, then--

"If that means I care, then-- whatever. Sure. I guess."

Any and every single comment about how pathetic he is goes right in March's ear on one side and right out the other. He's not listening to all that, Bigby, because you've dropped the confession. They're friends. Which means March has open reign to do whatever he wants around Bigby.

Not that anything was going to stop him from doing that either, but it's the thought that counts.

"Hey. I love you too."

Do you see Bigby over here, March?

He's making a face like the other just pranked him into eating something utterly disgusting. Please, who said open displays of affection are okay? Bigby doesn't do those! He doesn't even know how to handle the thought of being liked when he's so used to people despising his very presence. Of course there's no way he can respond to this in any normal sort of way.

So, rather than returning the sentiment, he just flatly says: "You're not my type."

While March, in turn, has weight the pros and cons of saying something completely stupid to Bigby. It's a delicate balance: he's aggressively from the 70s and fairly anti-hippie, and emotions are also disgusting, but on the other hand it gets a rise out of Bigby and no one's here.

March waggles his eyebrows in response.

"I'm everyone's type."

When did this suddenly turn into a game of gay chicken?

At least - Bigby is pretty sure what this is. March isn't into dudes, after all, and Bigby..

...

With Bigby it's a little more complicated. He knows he's not really attracted to anyone but one specific person, after all, so it has much less to do with gender as much as it has to do with the fact that March is so far from Snow he might as well be on the other side of the world from her.

"You know not everyone is into men, right?" He instead counters. Is this game of gay chicken dumb? Yes.

But Bigby is determined to not lose all the same.

Oh. Oh god. March folds instantly, panic visibly only via how quickly his eyes dart from Bigby to literally anywhere else and then back again.

"No--"

Shit. Fuck. This is--no. Goddammit. Gay chicken? Lost. Immediately.

"This--no, this is, this is--I wasn't--this is a delicate balance, man. This is an ecosystem. We've got symbiotosis." He means symbiosis.

March folds so quickly that even Bigby looks kind of surprised. He was confident that he was going to win this, sure. Not really because of a belief in his own abilities as much as disbelief in March's abilities in this particular department.

But he didn't expect it to happen this quickly. It's like March is crumbling at the slightest puff of air.

Bigby raises an eyebrow in the face of this.

"Are you seriously going into a panic at the very thought of my dick?" Bigby. Dude. Not helping here, probably.

"No," March lies, and crosses his arms in some form of defiance that's definitely not childish in any way, shape or form.

"I'm just extremely confident in who I am."

"Okay, man."

That's the world's least convincing 'okay, man'. He's not believing you one bit, March. But Bigby will be merciful right now and not push the point, instead moving to take another sip of the alcohol they're having.

(He's definitely going to keep this one in mind in case he ever needs to hit March's weak point to get him to pipe down, however.)

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(closed) may catch-all

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cw: vaguely nsfw

cw: vaguely nsfw

there we go, that's a wrap to make room for the new log!!