The last time Guy had seen Buddy, they were sixteen. And now they were fucking living together.

Guy wasn’t entirely sure how this happened. The call from Buddy had thrown him a little out of loop, and on learning about his divorce and lack of place to live, he sort of felt obligated to take his misplaced cousin in. Even though the last time they had seen each other, Guy had cut their meeting short to run off to play D&D or whatever. He couldn’t even really remember.

That was nearly fifteen years ago. Guy now looked like an exhausted hardass. Having Buddy living with him was like having a stranger squat in his spare bedroom.

Guy dragged his hand over his face tiredly, staring at his computer. It had been futzing up a lot lately, not allowing him to do his work outside of work. Homework. Fuck, was he in high school still? He reached down and smacked the tower of his computer and the screen went black. Guy stared at it for a moment, before bracing his fingers against his eyebrows and sighing. Goddamnit. For some reason, he had really bad luck with computers. Even the one in his office spazzed out on a regular basis. He constantly had to reassure his boss that he was not looking at porn and ruining the harddrive with viruses and trojans.

He reached over to grab his coffee and ended up knocking it over onto his keyboard. “Shit!” He tried to dab the coffee out with his shirt, but sort of gave up after a moment. There was no way he’d be able to salvage this. Guy dropped his head in his hands and wished that he smoked.

The divorce with his wife wasn't going very well. She had gotten the house and he had gotten to keep his car-- everything else, big and small, was still in the process of being divvied up, and Buddy hadn't wanted to leave Bayfield. He wasn't ready to sign a lease on a new apartment yet, either- he still wasn't sure where he wanted to live or what he'd be able to afford, so it had been natural to call up Guy.

Well, actually, natural was such a generic word, but the situation wasn't "natural" by any definition of the term. Guy was just the closest relative he had living in Bayfield that he was on speaking terms with (though it had been almost a decade and a half since the speaking had happened) and he thought, well, why the hell not? He didn't plan on crashing there for very long, and as far as he could remember, Guy was a scrawny little dude. A complete dweeb.

That was probably why Buddy was so stunned when he had seen Guy again. This was what his cousin had turned out to be? Hell, he thought, and felt guilty for a moment. I should have kept up with my family a little better.

But then again, his immediate family was a little, well, secluded, especially on his father's side, and Guy was just a maternal cousin. Had to do with the bullshit family heritage that had landed him with the curse that they insisted on calling a blessing.

Buddy glanced into Guy's family room, drinking iced water out of an old coffee mug. "Having problems?" He hadn't really apologized for imposing. Or thanked him very much, either. It wasn't like he wasn't grateful - he really was - it just didn't occur to him to say as much out loud.

Guy pressed his fingers against his eyes, trying to stem the beginnings of a migraine. He hated his job. It was just so—well, he didn't know. Draining? Exhausting? Soul-stealing? He felt like in the couple of years he had worked as an editor for pissed-off lawyers who couldn't spell for shit and didn't know what the hell they were talking about half the time had turned him into a robot.

"No. Sort of. Yeah." It wasn't all Buddy's fault for not keeping in contact with family. Guy sort of pretended like he didn't have a family for the most part, except to briefly call his parents or siblings to check up on them. He wasn't the sort of person who depended on, well, anyone. Actually, that was probably one of the only traits he still kept from the dark ages. It was much easier to be independent and introverted as a dork, and gave a nice appealing tall-dark-and-mysterious vibe as a hardass. Guy swivelled around on his office chair and rested his hands on his knees. "Fuck man. Computers just never work right for me."

It didn't help that Guy looked more like he should be working as a mechanic or something. Clad in a white muscle shirt and jeans, it wouldn't take much stretch of imagination to see Guy covered in grease with a wrench in his pocket or something. Secretly, he didn't know jack about cars. He understood his motorcycle well enough, but that was because he had had the thing since like, the eighties, but cars were way too fucking confusing to him.

Guy raked his fingers through his hair and raised his eyebrows at his cousin. Nonverbally asking him 'what's up'? Communication was probably going to be weird between them for awhile. Considering, you know, they never talked.

"I'd offer to help, but I don't have much better luck." It wasn't because of any mystical or mystifying reason. Buddy was just bad with computers. He could work a cellphone alright, but the line with computers ended somewhere around "checking my e-mail" and "doing a google search."

He stepped into the room, grabbed a chair, and winced halfway through sitting down. He stubbed his toe immediately after he finished sitting down and sighed before glancing up toward Guy.

"Thought it was pretty weird that you live alone, you know?" He said, and eyed the room curiously. Poor guy (no pun intended.) He didn't figure a lot of girls really dug the ex-butch anymore. Buddy blinked, then eyed his cousin seriously. "And, you know, if you're queer, you can just let me know. As long as you're not fucking in front of me, I don't have a problem with it." He was a little homophobic. He knew he was a little homophobic. He didn't care.

Buddy stretched, glancing upwards, appraising the room again for a moment. It really wasn't a bad place, but it made him miss home, as much as he was ever home.

Guy stared at Buddy in utter disbelief. This guy either had some serious chutzpah or was a total moron. "So, what. Piercings and messy hair makes me queer now?" He raised his eyebrows. If there was one thing Guy was not used to being called these days, it was gay. Sure, maybe when he was in high school, people thought it was hilarious to call him 'Gay Mailman,' but how old were they now? "Real mature, Bud."

He tiredly raked his fingers through his hair, too worn out to take real offense. Who gave a fuck of what people thought these days? "In any case, no I'm not gay, you goddamn motherfucker."

He pushed himself up from his chair. His computer was beyond salvageable now, anyway. He glared down at Buddy. "Look. You should be damn thankful that I'm even letting you stay here. In other words, keep your fucking mouth shut and quit with the insulting. Just because I'm not dumbass enough to get married," direct jab here, "and deal with multiple divorces, doesn't make me homo."

Buddy rolled his eyes and threw one of his hands up next to his face in a clearly defensive manner, lifting his mug of chilled water up with his other hand and sipping at it. "Didn't say they made you queer," he countered, lowering his hand from his face and returning it to his mug. "You could just give that impression, okay? Excuse me for not using a fucking euphamism."

There was no real malice in his tone. Annoyance, maybe, and a bit of frustration, but none of that was really directed toward Guy.

"And hey," he said in reponse to the jabs about his marriages and divorces, "you do crazy things when you're in love. When you think you're in love. What the hell ever." Bud shut his eyes then and sank a little in his chair, much like a bull who had stomped and snorted his way into a lazy placidity. He still held the mug cupped between both of his hands. "I was just trying to find out before I went making any fucking assumptions."

He liked the word "fuck." It had a lot of uses, and seemed to add just the right amount of severity to sentences that needed a little extra oompf.

Buddy opened his eyes, then his mouth to say something else, before he winced. "Cold!" He yelled as the cup slid out of his hands, the porcelain sides slick with condensation, and landed in his lap. He howled for a second, hopping up and heading to the kitchen, grabbing some paper towels and dabbing at his pants, giving Guy a look that suggested he blamed him directly for that certain turn of events.

"What, do I give an aura of homosexuality or something? Or did someone tape a sign on my ass that says 'enter here?' Not making assumptions. Ha!" He flopped back down on his couch, folding his hands behind his head and closing his eyes. Buddy had spilled cold water on himself and had hopped off to the kitchen, so Guy just raised his voice to continue their bickering.

"What do they call those things again? Gaydars? Yours is seriously messed up, Buddy." He smiled crookedly. Maliciously. "So, what did you do with wife number two? Stalk her? Chase her away with halitosis? Scare her away with your utter lack of charm? Or did she realize what a prick you were?" He would bet more of the latter.

Guy normally wasn't this mean. There was just something about his cousin that grinded on his nerves. Such as being called queer for no damn reason. He considered his own appearance. Spiky, messy black hair. Goatee. Well-built. He scoffed. If anything, he didn't look like the stereotypical twink (and the only reason why he even knew what that word meant was because of an old girlfriend). Leave it to Buddy to bring back old insecurities. He just didn't get it. Maybe he did give off an aura of being gay or something, since back in early high school and grade school that seemed to be a preferred nickname for him. And he had been hit on by guys before, but he figured that happened to everyone.

Guy completely missed the glare, since he had his eyes closed and his back to Buddy. Oh well. He would have just glared back, anyway.

Buddy flung himself back down on his chair as he dabbed at the water on his pants. His temper was starting to get hot, and he gripped at his paper towel with just a little more ferocity than necessary.

"You look like a fucking butch, and you live alone. It was a question, not an attack, so get over yourself," he snarled back. He really hadn't meant it maliciously. Bud shredded a piece of the napkin at the next question, and the anger in his voice was raw, pained. "And I spent too much time at work, so she started fucking everything that walks on two legs, okay? She's pregnant, too, but it isn't mine, we haven't had sex in four months, so back off."

He fantasized about standing up and walking over to take his anger out on his cousin's computer. Or shin. The computer seemed like it had been through enough hell.

Yeah, this roommate situation wasn't going to last long, he was sure.

His cousin apparently knew jack about tact. Guy rubbed his temples, tired lines creasing his forehead. As Buddy got angrier, Guy's annoyance drained away. He just didn't have the energy to fight. "Whatever, man. Think what you want."

He felt a little guilty for attacking such a sensitive topic, especially since he was obviously aiming to hurt. Defensiveness had always been second nature to him, but Guy could never really put up a fight for long these days. He just didn't care.

He opened his eyes and glanced at Buddy. It was funny how they looked absolutely nothing alike, despite their relations. "Well, then, you're better off without her, right?" It was meant to be comforting, but Guy didn't really know what to say in this situation. It had already gotten so far out of control. He didn't really understand why they were so hateful towards each other, when it had been years since they even talked.

Buddy opened his mouth to argue, then sighed and just slumped down in his chair a little bit. He shut his own eyes and sighed, trying to force his temper down into something managable. Guy was right, after all-- it was his own damn fault his wife was sleeping around. He'd never been home.

"...you want to order pizza or something?" He said. There was still a gruff, growly quality to his voice, but it was obviously he was trying to make peace. Floundering a little bit, but trying nonetheless. He didn't like making enemies of people, for all his slightly temperamental nature, and he also really didn't have anywhere else to stay in the circumstance that Guy kicked him out. It was probably best to try to make do with what he had.

He snorted.

"And I know I'm better off without her. She was a worthless bitch." In his defense, she really was.

Guy fell silent for a moment. Pizza was out of the question, unless they went to a vegan restaurant that used animal-friendly products. However, admitting he was vegan to someone who made snap judgements wasn't exactly on the top of his list of priorities. He heard enough shit from other people; he could only imagine what Buddy would say.

But Guy's refrigerator was empty at the moment, since he hadn't gone grocery shopping recently, and the very idea of pizza from a place like Round Table or something made his stomach turn.

"You can order some if you want," Guy said noncommitedly, racking his mind for excuses. 'I'm allergic to milk. I don't like killing animals.'

And Buddy's reaction would be: 'Pansy.'

Guy sighed. "I'll just run to the store to pick something up for myself." Logically, he knew he would have to admit this to Buddy one day. And he wasn't ashamed, no, he just didn't want to deal with stereotypes. Ever.

Buddy rocked his head back against the chair, his eyes still shut. His crotch was cold and wet and he was still thirsty. Damn. "If you don't like pizza, I can just run out and pick up something for us both," he said instead, kind of just assuming that Guy didn't like pizza. Oh, he'd figure it out soon enough, and when he did, Guy would be labeled permanantly with the label gaygaygaygaygay! in his mind. Until then, he'd just shrug it off.

"I mean, I really don't care what we eat. I'm just kind of starving."

He realized that they should probably be walking on tentative grounds with each other. Hell only knew what had sparked that earlier explosion of an argument (though if he thought about it, he'd realize it was the fact that he had insinuated his cousin was gay.) He didn't want to go through that again and end up in a motel.

Guy knew this. Which was why he was avoiding it completely at the moment. He wondered how long he could hold out before being caught. "Look, it's okay. Order what you want. I'm not hungry."

Probably an hour. Buddy was unusually stubborn.

He really didn't need this right now.

Once again, Guy wondered why he didn't pick up smoking. He had a feeling it wouldn't be that bad. It would, at least, make living with his noisy-as-fuck cousin easier. He was already feeling tense again, preparing for another fight. Christ, it was like they were in the middle of a divorce.

He wondered what would happen if he brought his current catch of the week—what was her name again? Candy? Sugar? Honey? He knew it was something ridiculous, just couldn't remember it at the moment—home. Buddy would probably scare her off with his obnoxiousness. And make more insinuations about his sexuality. Crap. Life was going to get hard, really quickly.