milliways_bar | (no subject)

*Meg's hand tightens on his, but she avoids his gaze.*

She hadn't slept for days, properly.

She thought I was holding out on her deliberately, I think.

... what'd she do?

I don't think she would've really used it.

*Andrew goes pale.*

She was ... angry, then?

*Meg doesn't answer.

She draws her knees up to her chest.*

*Andrew moves before he realizes he's doing it, and wraps his arms around Meg.*

*Meg rests her head on his chest, and looks down at her knees.*

She thinks I'm mad at her now, or something. I am, a little. But -

She should be more mad at me than anything, I guess. Considering.

*His voice is very soft.*

You want to tell me what she did?

Knife.

At my leg.

Oh god.

*Andrew shudders convulsively, once.*

*Meg unwraps her arms from her knees, wraps them around him instead.*

Hey. It's okay.

I'm okay. I promise.

She maybe isn't.

That is not okay. That is not okay on an epic scale --

Like I said, I don't think -

she wouldn't've done it really.

*Andrew is not so sure. He's heard stories....*

*But no point going into them now.*

She didn't, anyway.

*Meg's voice is very quiet. Little more than a whisper.*

You know what would happen if she had, right?

*Andrew flinches at that. Hard.*

*Meg's arms tighten around him automatically.*

Please don't -

*And then she stops, unsure of what, even, she was going to ask.*

*His voice comes out almost too low to be audible, each word bitten off.*

You wouldn't be able to dance anymore.

And I'd have to kill her.

No.

*Meg stiffens immediately.*

Shhh. It's okay.

*He closes his eyes, rests his forehead against the top of her head, breathes in the scent of her hair.*

It didn't happen. It's not going to.

Revenge is a stupid idea.

*She's talking into Andrew's shirt; her voice would be almost inaudible, even without it.*

And if I ever catch you doing something like that, Andrew Wells -

I know. I know.

*His arms tighten around her.*

Ever.

I would come haunt you, *she informs him sternly. The sternness is perhaps somewhat muted by the fact that she's still clinging desperately.* And not the good kind of haunting. The kind where I, you know, threw things at you from across the room, and stuff.

And then Ray would show up and bust you for poltergeisting, *Andrew mumbles into her hair.*

I don't think I like this plan.

Only if you reported me, *Meg reminds him.* I mean, I wouldn't be throwing things at anyone else. Only you, for being dumb.