Title: happy hour
Author: monimala
Fandom: Dead Like Me
Rating/Classification: SAC for language, Mason, angst, ficbit.
Disclaimer: I don't own the character.
Summary: Based on a preview clip for 2.12 and the general pain of what Mason does in 2.11.

Your number is up. You count it. You know. And you have to stop at six because your eyes cross and you can't go any higher. Fucking booze. That's what you blame. Yeah. Because you can count the rest of the time. And think. And walk. And talk. And not be in love with Daisy Adair. You can do all sorts of things. You can even do them well.

The rest of the time, you don't need to wave your fingers--so very glad to see them-- so you can remember all the places you need to go, all the people you need to see and reap and rob and not murder.

Georgia thinks you wear the gloves because you fancy yourself cool. No. It's because you had ten Post-Its before Post-Its were even fucking invented. No...nine and a thumb to make your way across the country. No...eight and a hitch and a spare to suck on whenever you wanted to cry for your mum.

And now there's dirt beneath your nails.

Earth. Blood. Worm parts.

You can count the rest of the time. Maybe that's why you're always drunk now. So you don't have to. So you don't have to be keep accounts anymore. So you don't have to remember how Daisy smiled and how it made your insides squish together the way Ray's brains squished against the floor and the plate and the plate and the--"Stop it," you tell yourself, tilting the bottle back.

It's the end of the line. The end of everything. And you did it for the girl. Makes you some kind of hero, doesn't it? A bloody fucking martyr, right?

Except you picked the wrong girl.

And what do you blame for that?

"Last call," you whisper, pressing your face against the smiley face on the glass, breathing on it.

Georgie's wearing a hat.

And she's beautiful.

She'll never kiss you. Not with the dirt and wormy bits.

Maybe you'll have to sew the fingers back on your gloves.

Maybe *you'll* have to kiss *her*.

While you still can.

 

--end--

October 11, 2004.



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