#i cant wait for therapy tmrw | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

birdiethebibliophile · 7 years

Text

{fic} Bright-Eyed and Bushy-Tailed (part 2)

Word Count: 2.5k Relationship: Lucien/Cassian Characters: Lucien, Cassian, Rhysand, Feyre Warnings: Depression, PTSD, also just a lot of regular Sadness, Abuse

Here on AO3.

__________________

Cassian had made Lucien exchange cell numbers with him before Feysand got back. So far he was very nearly regretting it – despite Lucien’s obvious skill as a photographer, he kept sending Cassian blurry pictures of guys lifting weights at the gym with the caption is this u.

But finally, Cassian had a chance to use number as he’d intended.

When should I pick u up? he texted to Lucien bright and early Monday morning.

id hopd ud forgotten about that he got back five minutes later. He was surprised Lucien had responded so fast – he’d expected him to be asleep, as any sensible person should be at the god-awful hour at which Cassian awoke.

Nope, sorry. What time?

He was still waiting for Lucien’s reply when his 6am Tai Chi class started to trickle in, so he put his phone in his bag. Once he’d waved all the businesspeople too hipster to do yoga out the door nearly an hour later, he grabbed it again, expecting a text from a few minutes after his own. Cassian frowned when there was no message notification on his phone. He decided to give Lucien the benefit of the doubt. For now.

But by eleven he was done with that nonsense.

If u don’t tell me what time 2 pick u up I’m going 2 come and park outside ur house.

He grinned as his phone pinged not five minutes later: come by at 1 tmrw. u suk.

Cassian grinned. ;) See u at 1.

At exactly one o’clock, Cassian pulled up in front of the apartment complex. I’m here, he texted.

cant be. all i see is the ugliest ass truck iv ever seen.

Cassian decided, in lieu of texting back, to lay on the horn.

Almost immediately, the door flew open, and Lucien practically fell down the stairs in his rush to get to the truck. Before he got in, he went over to the driver’s side and pounded on the roof. “Cut it out, you ass.”

Cassian released the horn and rolled down the window. “Happy to see me?”

“Shut up,” Lucien grumbled. He went around to the passenger side, wrenched open the door, and flung himself into the seat.

“So, where are we going?” Cassian asked, starting up the truck.

“Just start driving. I’ll tell you where to turn.”

“We going to a strip club, Lu? Because I gotta say, I’m all out of singles,” Cassian said, glancing over with a grin. “Also, put your seatbelt on.”

“You’re not my mom.”

“Yeah, but I’m driving, and I’m not moving until your seatbelt is on.”

“God, Cass.” But Lucien buckled himself in. “There. Happy?”

“Yep,” Cassian said cheerfully.

“Take a right at the first light.” Lucien settled back into the seat, staring out the side window.

“Gotcha.” Cassian tapped the steering wheel lightly. “So. You were up early today.”

“So were you.”

“Yeah, but I’m up early every day.” Now that Lucien was sitting next to him, Cassian could see that the other man looked paler than he had before, his golden-brown skin pasty, and there were dark circles under his eyes.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Lucien muttered.

“Well, as I said, I’m always up early, so… if you ever need someone to talk to…” Cassian ventured. “I teach a class at six, so I’m usually up at four-thirty or five.”

“Take a right on Aspen,” Lucien said. “Then get on the freeway going east. You don’t want to talk to me at five in the morning, trust me.”

Cassian turned onto the on-ramp. “Pssh. All I do from when I get up until the class is shower and drink a smoothie.”

“A smoothie.” Lucien’s voice dripped with incredulity and sarcasm.

“Hey, what do you have against smoothies?”

“Nothing. I love smoothies. I just thought you’d be the guy that eats, like, a pound of bacon a day.” He leaned over and ran a finger down Cassian’s forearm. “I wouldn’t think you get like this from smoothies.”

Cassian’s face warmed. “I usually grab breakfast at the café on 15th,” he said. “That’s where the bacon comes in.”

“Never been.” Lucien turned back to the window.

“Great hashbrowns, fresh orange juice. Coffee so strong it’ll take the roof off your mouth. You should come sometime – I know Rhys’s coffee is shit.”

Lucien snorted. “Yeah, tasted it once, never again. I think he and Feyre get Starbucks most days. Must be nice.”

Cassian glanced at him. “What do you mean?”

“To have the money to get a five-dollar latte every morning,” Lucien said, a bitter note in his voice.

“Yeah…” Cassian let out a brief breath. “I get you there.”

“You’re going to want to take Exit 285,” Lucien said. Then, unbidden, “I don’t have a fucking penny.”

Cassian didn’t respond. There was that tension to Lucien again that told him not to ask questions.

“Not a fucking one.” Lucien leaned over further and laid his cheek against the window. “Tamlin always just paid for everything… if Feyre and Rhysand decide they don’t want me living with them anymore, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“Shit, man,” Cassian said. Lucien’s voice had gone very soft again. “You can always crash at my place.”

“Thanks,” Lucien said. “I just… God. I hate him.”

“Tamlin?” Cassian asked.

Lucien didn’t respond. “Here,” he said. “Exit here…”

Cassian shifted gears as he headed in the direction Lucien indicated. He waited for Lucien to resume, but he didn’t, just continued giving directions.

“We’re here.”

Cassian looked at the sign: St. Joseph Medical Center. Then he looked at Lucien. The other man’s back was hunched, and he was steadfastly not looking at Cassian. Or getting out of the car.

“Lu?” Cassian asked quietly.

“I come here for therapy three times a week,” Lucien said after a moment.

“Depression?”

Lucien nodded, eyes still downcast. “And PTSD.”

Cassian nodded as well. “Want me to walk you in?”

“No, I… I’m good.”

“How long? I can stay here.”

“About half an hour. You sure?”

“Totally.” He opened the glove compartment and pulled out a paperback. “I keep trashy novels in here for exactly this kind of situation.”

“All right. If you’re sure.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure. Get your skinny ass out of the car,” Cassian said with a grin.

A smile ghosted over Lucien’s face. “Thanks,” he said. “I’ll… be back soon.” He slipped out of the truck.

Cassian watched until the clinic doors shut behind him.

“So. How’d it go?” Cassian closed his book and tossed it into the backseat.

“Fine.”

Cassian waited, but that was all Lucien said. “You sure?”

He closed his eyes. “Yeah.”

Cassian started the truck. “Seatbelt,” he said. “I’m taking you to that café.”

Lucien buckled in without opening his eyes. “I’m not hungry.”

“Well, I am, and my next class doesn’t start for an hour,” Cassian said, pulling out of the parking lot. “Also… feel free to tell me to fuck off, but are there any triggers I should know about?”

Lucien let out a soft sigh. “Yelling. Things… breaking.”

Cassian’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Anything else?” he said. “Or… anything that helps when…” He trailed off.

“Talking softly helps,” Lucien said. “Um…” He almost seemed embarrassed. “Don’t… don’t touch my face unless I say so, but the backs of my hands are okay.”

“I’ll remember that,” Cassian said.

Neither of them said another word until Cassian pulled into the café parking lot.

He opened the truck door, then paused. “You don’t have to come in,” he said. “If you don’t want to.”

“What, and miss seeing whether this place lives up to your hype? Not a chance,” Lucien said.

“I’m buying you a cup of coffee, then. Since I insisted on dragging you here.”

Lucien hesitated for a second, discomfort written on his face, then nodded. “I’d like that, actually,” he said.

“I bet a drink would help more, but two is a little early for alcohol, so coffee will have to do,” Cassian said.

“I owe you,” Lucien said. “First you drive me across town, and now –”

“Hey.” Cassian interrupted, putting a hand on his arm. “You don’t owe me anything. Friends can do favors for each other. No debts, no bargains. Okay?”

“I thought we weren’t friends.” But Cassian could hear something fragile in Lucien’s voice under the veneer of snark.

“Too bad,” Cassian said bracingly, swinging out of the truck. “Apparently we are now.”

“God.” Lucien dropped to the ground. “You’re so…”

“Charming? Annoying? Awe-inspiring? Sexy?”

Lucien flushed. “…nice.”

Cassian felt a lurching in the pit of his stomach. The fact that Lucien felt a need to comment on that, when all Cassian was doing was driving him to an appointment and paying a dollar fifty for a cup of coffee… “That’s me,” he said. “Nice. Rhys might say nauseatingly so.”

“I don’t blame him there.” Lucien followed him into the café, looking around with a raised eyebrow. “Nice place.”

“I know you’re being sarcastic, and I don’t care,” Cassian said, sliding into a booth by the window. “Hey, Janine.”

“Hey, Cassian.” The waitress who’d headed over as soon as they walked in the door set two cups on the table and filled them with coffee. “The usual?”

“Yep. How’s the sourdough today?”

“Even if I said it was moldy, you would still order it,” Janine accused.

“Called out,” Cassian admitted. “Take it easy on the toaster this time. My friend here has a sensitive palate.”

“You got it.” The waitress winked at him, then headed back to the kitchen.

“Cream and sugar?” Cassian asked Lucien.

“I told you I wasn’t hungry,” Lucien said grumpily. “…Just sugar.”

Cassian stirred a spoonful of sugar into Lucien’s coffee and pushed it across the table. “I know. They burn my toast every time. I thought maybe that would get them not to.”

Lucien studied his surroundings. “My eyes are bleeding. I’ve never seen so much linoleum and blue-and-white check in my life. How do you stand it?”

“Are you kidding? This place is the best. All the fun of the fifties without the racism.” Cassian grinned as he dumped half the jug of cream into his coffee.

“Good thing. Neither of us would be allowed to be here in the fifties.”

Cassian lifted his eyebrows. “I bet you could get in, with all that pretty hair. And then you could sneak me in.”

Lucien looked Cassian over from head to foot, slowly enough that Cassian took a hasty gulp of his coffee. “Sneak you in. Sure. Sounds doable. It’s not like you stand out or anything, after all.”

“Okay, yeah, that probably wouldn’t work,” Cassian agreed. “So let’s just enjoy the fact that you don’t have to smuggle me in under your coat like a watch dealer.”

Lucien choked on his coffee. “A what?”

“You know, when the guy opens his coat, and he’s like, ‘hey, buddy, wanna buy a watch?’”

“Cassian?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I know I am, but what are you? Thanks, Janine,” Cassian added as the waitress slid a plate in front of him.

“You want a warmup, hon?” Janine asked Lucien, tapping her coffeepot.

“Oh – thank you,” Lucien said, letting her refill his cup.

“’Course. Any friend of Cassian’s is a friend of mine,” she said with a wink.

“We’re not friends,” Lucien said weakly as Janine walked away.

“Don’t mind her,” Cassian said, digging into his food with almost indecent enthusiasm. “She means well.”

“I don’t,” Lucien said, and he shifted slightly in his chair. “Mind her, that is.”

Cassian followed Lucien’s gaze to his plate. “You sure you don’t want any?” he asked.

“Well… I wouldn’t say no to a piece of that toast,” Lucien said, biting his lip. “And a few of the mushrooms, maybe.”

A smile blossomed on Cassian’s face in spite of himself. “Here – give me your saucer.” He took the dish and piled it high with mushrooms, balancing a piece of toast on top. “There might be some residual bacon grease – hope you don’t mind.”

“Not really. It’s just meat itself I don’t like.” Lucien pulled the plate back towards him.

“Can’t say I relate, but okay,” Cassian said, licking his fork clean. “You can have an egg, too, if you want. I have three.”

“Ugh. Fine,” Lucien said. “But I’m using my own fork after what you’ve done to that one.”

“What – this?” Cassian licked the fork again, more slowly.

Color rose sharply in Lucien’s cheeks. “Ass,” he said, stabbing one of Cassian’s eggs and transferring it to his saucer.

“I should start a swear jar,” Cassian said. “That’s at least the third time you’ve said that today alone.”

“Only if I can start a filthy innuendo jar,” Lucien snapped, spearing a mushroom with unwonted venom.

“I bet I can fill my jar before you do,” Cassian challenged.

Lucien groaned. “Not another bet. Rhys said that if I spent any more of the allowance he’s giving me on, quote, ‘idiotic bets with my idiotic brother,’ he’d cut it off.” It was clearly a joke – Cassian knew that – and yet…

“It really bothers you, doesn’t it?” Cassian said quietly. “That you have to rely on them like that.”

Lucien concentrated on cutting a mushroom into halves, then quarters, then eighths. “They’re being so generous to me. More than I deserve, that’s for sure, after the shit I let Tamlin do to Feyre. But sometimes…” Cassian sat quietly, letting him gather his thoughts. “Sometimes, it just feels like a transfer of prisons. I don’t have to worry about –” He cut off. “– about a lot of things anymore, but my life still… isn’t my own.”

Cassian nodded. “How so?” he asked quietly.

Lucien set his fork and knife down with a soft clink. “I have to rely on them for everything. I have no car, no money, no job. No… nothing.”

Cassian heard in that I am nothing, and his heart twisted.

He’d been right, the other day, about two things: first, that it was indeed like Lucien was Feyre’s and Rhys’s child, or at least that they thought of him that way. And second…

Lucien didn’t just look like he should be stuck in a tower. He was.

“What would you need?”

“What?” Lucien looked up, and his good eye was dull, the russet-brown of the iris hooded in shadow.

“What would you need to feel like your life was your own?”

Lucien stared at him for a second, then blinked. “I… don’t know.”

“I think you do,” Cassian said quietly. Challenging him – pushing him just enough. At least, that’s what he hoped.

Lucien took a small bite of the food before him, chewing mechanically. “I guess the first thing would be to have a job,” he said at length. “An income. And… maybe a bank account of my own.”

Cassian felt hot anger roil in his stomach for the first time (though somehow he doubted it would be the last), along with the thought that he wanted to kill Tamlin. But he pushed it aside. That wasn’t important right now. “And you think that would help?”

“…Yeah. I think it might,” Lucien said softly.

“Then I’ll help you find a job,” Cassian said. Then he grinned. “In fact, I already have an idea…”

#acomaf #acomaf fanfiction #lucien #cassian #lucien x cassian #mine #fic

35 notes · View notes