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"Dusty," Shane begins, then stops. He bites his lip, hands running through his hair in agitation. For someone who makes it his life goal to coast by with as little emotional extremes as necessary, he looks uncharacteristically distraught. Then he says it.
"Dusty, me and Sawyer fucked."
Dusty stares. She closes her eyes, casting around for her moonshine stash. It looks like she's going to need it. "You what?"
"We—" Dusty cracks her eyes open in time to see Shane looking from side to side nervously. He leans closer. "We fucked."
Dusty closes her eyes again and takes a sip. She's not drunk enough for this. "Sit down," she says, massaging her temples. "You what?"
Apparently, “It just happened.” Dusty emerges from the conversation feeling several years older, having heard far more about the minute details of Sawyer’s face than she ever cared to know, and harboring a newfound certainty that the next few days will be especially painful.
Shane is insistent that she doesn't tell anyone.
Ollie laughs his ass off when she tells him, because she has little care for Shane’s secrets after he’s dumped this mess on her.
"They fucked?” he crows, looking absolutely delighted. "That's disgusting. Tell me everything."
“Shane was just entranced by Sawyer’s bone structure,” Dusty drawls, lighting a cigarette and taking a drag. “What can I say?”
Ollie laughs again. Dusty’s glad at least someone’s having fun. “Shane and Sawyer,” he echoes thoughtfully. “You know, sometimes when they were arguing I was just waiting for them to start angrily making out over a table. I guess it finally happened.”
Dusty blows smoke into the air, regretting every decision that’s brought her here. “So it did.” She lets out a sigh before promptly groaning. “I bet they’re gonna be super weird about this. They’re gonna be a fuckin’ pain in the ass tomorrow.”
“Literally... for each other,” Ollie jokes, grinning when she throws him a scornful look. “But I don’t really get what the big deal is. We get it. You fucked. Who cares? People fuck all the time. We've fucked. Me and Sawyer have fucked. Come onnn."
"That might be just you, Ollie," Dusty says, reaching over to flick him on the forehead. She takes another drag from her cigarette. "I mean, maybe even for most people. But it’s Shane and Sawyer. Those two assholes can’t move past anything. They’re gonna be arguing about this until the day they die.”
“That’s gonna be something,” Ollie concedes, tapping his chin. “I bet they’ll be so awkward. It’s gonna be hilarious.”
“That’s one word for it,” Dusty grumbles. “I’d take ‘pathetic.’ ‘Annoying.’ ‘Insufferable,’ even.”
Ollie just laughs. He flops over to lay on the floor. “Hey, don’t you have that thing with Shane?”
Dusty freezes. “Thing with Shane?”
“Well, yeah,” Ollie says, bobbing his head. “He tried to kiss you once. And you blushed.”
“You remember that?” Dusty exclaims, then shuts her mouth with an audible clack. Ollie’s smile goes several shades more smug. She turns around and snuffs out her cigarette, then looks back to Ollie with a glare. “Listen,” she hisses. “Nothing happened.
“I’ve never seen you blush before,” Ollie crows. “Not even when yer shitfaced. You two were so cute—ow!”
Dusty grabs Ollie’s arm and twists, desperately trying to keep her face from heating. “If you know what’s good for you,” Dusty snarls, wrenching it further and watching as Ollie yelps in pain. “Then you’ll shut up.”
“Okay, okay! That fuckin’ hurts, you know.”
“Good,” Dusty hisses. She drops Ollie, watching him pout and rub his arm. “That never happened.”
Somehow, despite all attempts to avoid him, Sawyer ends up within two feet of Shane again. Not just within two feet; maybe two inches would be more accurate.
"You've got a lot of nerve," Sawyer growls, leaning closer and boxing Shane further against the wall. In response, Shane only smirks, flashing his lopsided grin. As smug and as arrogant as always. "It's almost like you wanted me to find you."
"Sawyer." Shane leans closer, placing one hand on his chest. Face to face, nose to nose, Sawyer can make out the flutter of Shane's eyelashes as he blinks; the way that his bottom lashes are longer than his top ones. His face is sharp. Sly, all angles and dark curves, looking over Sawyer with disdain. "I would say you didn't know me at all."
Sawyer scoffs, glaring down at him. "You're Shane," he says in a low voice, watching the bob of Shane’s Adam’s apple as he swallows. "Always trying to piss me off. Trying to push your boundaries, huh?"
"And what'd you do if I was?" Shane asks softly, eyes intense. Practically radiating contempt, his smirk widens in a flash of teeth.
Shane is everywhere; too close, all dark hair and half-lidded eyes. His shoulders are angled towards Sawyer instead of away, egging him onwards. There’s a silent challenge in the sly set of his face.
"Do you really want to know?" Sawyer murmurs, leaning down to whisper it directly to the curve of Shane's ear. He can feel the tiny shiver that goes through his body.
Shane meets his eyes, head tipped up in challenge. Daring him to catch him, to wipe that look off his face and replace it with something else, to just try and break him.
Sawyer holds his gaze and tips his chin up. They hold the stare, tension filling the space between them. Memories of last night flash through his mind; of how Shane looked panting and coming apart. The satisfaction of pinning him down and turning him into a mess.
They're close. Too close. Shane's eyes fill his line of vision, taunting and defiant, daring him to make a move.
Sawyer can't move away. He doesn't think he could if he tried. He drifts closer as if compelled, gloves tracing a line across Shane's shoulder before finally stopping at the hollow of his neck. At his pulse, caught there and pounding fast. He looks at Shane, and he knows in that instant that Shane is drawn to him too.
"Um, guys? Are you okay?"
Sawyer springs away, heart hammering. "Sid!" he exclaims. "It's—uh, nothing. Don't worry about it."
"Are you sure?" Sid tilts her head to the side and squints. "...Why do you have Shane pinned to the wall?"
Sawyer fully peels himself away from Shane, face burning. "I—"
"Yeah, Sawyer?" Shane drawls, slipping away from the wall and rubbing his neck. "Why'd you have me pinned to the wall?"
Sawyer can't stop himself from growling at him, irritation jolting through his spine. "You—"
Shane smirks at him, and suddenly they're back there, crowded close, closer, and closer still, in each other's space but still not pulling away. Back there, where the contact was heady and intoxicating, and suddenly the intensity between them was a different kind.
"Guys?"
Sawyer snaps his gaze away from Shane, turning to Sid. "Don't ask," he says, suddenly eager to be far, far away. "Didja need something?"
"Er—no, not really.”
“Well, how’s about you help me chop some firewood, then?”
“Huh? Sure!”
When morning comes, Dusty wakes to silence.
She doesn’t dare to hope. The chapel is not on fire. Sawyer is not screaming and on the verge of moving out to live in the woods. That’s all she can ask for.
As she goes down to get something to eat, she doesn’t see Shane or Sawyer. Rather than being reassuring, it only makes a distinct feeling of foreboding grow in her stomach the longer anything goes without happening.
Something does happen; namely, a puzzled Sid.
"Dusty,” Sid begins, frowning and scratching her head. “Do you know if Shane and Sawyer are like… okay?”
"Um," Dusty says, putting her breakfast on the table and getting ready to do damage control. "Define ‘okay.’"
“I saw them in the hallway,” Sid says slowly, before stopping.
At that, Dusty pauses. Me and Sawyer fucked, she hears in her head. The sense of foreboding grows tenfold. "What do you mean," she says slowly. I swear, if they had sex in front of her, I'm going to kill them myself. “What did they do?”
"They didn’t really do anything,” Sid says. “But they were just being really weird. Sawyer had Shane pinned to the wall?”
Dusty twitches. The feeling of foreboding does not fade. "That happens around every week, though," she points out weakly.
"Well,” Sid says. “They weren’t… angry or anything? They were just staring at each other. And really, really close.”
Dusty's grip tightens. I'm going to kill them.
Sid misinterprets her expression. "Dusty?" she asks nervously. "What’s wrong? Is it that bad?"
Dusty sighs, patting Sid on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it," she tells her. "But, uh. Try not to be around them if they're in the same room. Stick with me or Ollie." She pauses. "Actually, just stick with me."
It starts raining in the afternoon. Sadly, it means that there are less places for Shane and Sawyer to hide from each other. Sawyer ends up dragged inside from chopping firewood by a determined Ollie. Nonetheless, they manage to keep the delicate peace in the household by staying on opposite sides of the chapel.
That is, until dinner. With the both of them unwilling to skip dinner for the sake of sheer avoidance, they all end up in the same room.
It’s unbearable.
Shane and Sawyer are, predictably, ignoring each other. That's not the bad part. No, that's normal. That occurs on a semi-monthly basis. No, the bad thing is…
Well, they're not entirely ignoring each other. They're eyefucking.
"I don't like it here," Ollie whispers to Dusty, grinning. "Actually, I hate it here."
"Shut up, Ollie," both Shane and Sawyer say in unison, looking up in irritation. Both of them startle, then go back to glaring at each other. Glaring, except it's… more intense? Less intense? Dusty isn't sure. She doesn’t want to know.
Ollie laughs, delighted. Then, suddenly, he frowns. “Hey, should we get Sid out of here? I feel like we should get Sid out of here.”
“Why?” Sid asks, frowning. She is, true to form, tucked next to Dusty; away from Shane and Sawyer. “I can stay! What’s going on?”
Dusty rubs her forehead wearily. She can already feel the headache coming on. “Ask Sawyer in like, a month.”
Ollie laughs. Sawyer turns red, spinning around and mercifully breaking eye contact with Shane. “What?” he cries. “Why me?”
“You’re putting us in this situation,” Dusty grumbles. “You can deal with it.” Sid frowns. She opens her mouth to ask a question, clearly confused.
“Eat your food, hon,” Dusty sighs. “It’s not important.”
“Why won’t you guys tell me anything?” Sid mutters angrily, but keeps eating all the same.
“It’s not my fault,” Sawyer splutters, turning his gaze over to Shane. “If anything, it’s his—”
“Oh, come on,” Shane snaps. “I didn’t even do anything.”
“You provoked me—”
“You’re both eyefucking across the table—”
“Shut up, Ollie.”
Dusty groans, massaging her temples. She feels hungover, and her hangover has already faded hours ago. She needs alcohol, except by some twisted order of operations she is now perhaps the only reasonable person in this place. If she gets drunk, she’s not entirely sure that Sawyer and Shane won’t cause irreparable damage.
“Boys,” she snaps, getting to her feet with the loud scrape of her chair against the floor. She marches over to them, lightly hitting Shane on the back of the head. Across the table, Ollie perks up like a shark smelling blood. “Get out.”
Shane splutters. He looks thoroughly betrayed. Good, Dusty thinks savagely. “Dusty—?”
“I’m sick of your pining,” Dusty snaps, hauling Shane up by the collar and shoving him towards the door. She stomps over to Sawyer. “Ollie’s sick of your pining. Hell, even Sid noticed.”
Sawyer chokes. “Pining?”
Shane mutters, “I think Ollie’s having more fun than anything.” They all ignore him.
“Figure it out,” Dusty says firmly, dragging Sawyer up by the scruff. He lets out a yelp, too bewildered to put up any protest. With one final shove, she pushes both of them out the door resolutely. “And don’t come back in until you have! Leave us out of it.”
"This is your fault," Sawyer growls as the door slams shut behind them. He glares up at the sky, feeling the rain begin to soak into his hair.
Beside him, Shane scoffs. "Oh, is it?" he sneers. "You're the one who couldn't keep your hands off me."
"And you're the one always starting shit you can't handle," Sawyer bites out. He turns sharply to look at Shane, finding that Shane is already doing the same, eyes dark and glittering. "Don't play dumb."
Shane shifts ever closer, grin sharp. "Play dumb?" he asks innocently. "I don't know what you're talking about."
And just like that, they're back in that same place, where it's just the two of them and nothing else. Where the only thing that matters is Shane across from him and the depths of emotion he manages to dig up.
Sawyer is tired, suddenly. He sighs instead of retaliating, looking back up at the grey sky.
"What?" Shane scoffs. Sawyer looks over to see his eyes flicker; disappointment, maybe a hint of anger. "That's it? You're just going to stop?"
"Don't see the point," Sawyer tells him, wishing he had his smokes. "Not right now, at least. I don’t really want to sit out in the rain miserable and hating each other.”
Shane falls silent. The two of them just watch the sky, listening to the rain pour down onto the roof. Finally, Shane says, "I don't hate you."
Sawyer feels his shoulders stiffen. He looks over at Shane, finding him looking at the floor, mouth twisted in annoyance.
"I never hated you," he says. "Not really."
Sawyer draws in a breath. The cold air stings his lungs. "I don't hate you either," he admits. "Sometimes I wish I could, but I don't."
There's an odd little angle in the set of his shoulders when Shane turns to face him and with the way his feet are planted; edging ever so much closer to him. Shane squints at him, trying to figure him out, maybe wondering why they don't get along better.
Sawyer's never hated Shane. In fact, over the years, he could almost say the bastard's grown on him. He could say, I don't want you to die, though Shane can't die so the sentiment is a little mistranslated. He could say, I don't want you to get hurt, and he supposed that would be true most of the time. He could say, I don't want anything bad to happen to you, except that feels like entirely too much.
He wants to understand Shane. He thinks, somewhere in there, he's a decent person. It makes it all the more frustrating when he ends up choosing to be a shitty person each time, because somewhere in there Sawyer is expecting him to not be.
There have been times where they worked together. Where they helped each other. But there’s so much resentment, so much anger built up that sometimes Sawyer can't see him without rage building up behind his teeth. But sometimes he wishes—
"We're the same," he says. "Fucking assholes."
Shane laughs. "You could say that again."
They lapse into silence. It's more companionable than the last. Out of the corner of his eye, he can spot Shane turn to him, something sly and mischievous in his expression. Sawyer watches warily. That look on Shane was never a good thing. Usually it ended in tears and blood and Sawyer having to clean everything up.
“Say, Sawyer,” Shane says, smirk baring his chipped tooth. “How about a deal?”
When they finally let Shane and Sawyer back in, they are sopping wet and still not looking at each other. They are, however, holding hands.
Ollie immediately starts to lose it, doubling over in laughter. Dusty does a double take and looks them over again.
They look normal. They look like Shane and Sawyer, right down to the way that they’re both sulking and ignoring each other. But they’re holding hands. Dusty’s brain breaks down when she gets to that point.
“I—” she begins, then stops. She massages her temple again. “Alright, what happened?”
Sawyer clears his throat. He makes eye contact with Shane nervously (Why the fuck are they nervous?) before looking up at Dusty. He holds up their hands. “We’re dating,” is all he says; a little embarrassed, but proud. Are you fucking kidding me?
Dusty gapes, looking at their linked hands, then to Sawyer’s face. His expression is unchanging. Somewhat desperately, she makes eye contact with Shane. He only nods.
Behind her, Ollie is laughing so hard that he needs to lean against the wall to stay upright. Sid seems tentatively hopeful, but mostly confused.
“I need alcohol,” Dusty mutters, turning and striding out the door to her room. Let them burn the chapel down. She deserves alcohol after all of this. “Sid, come on.”
“Wait, save me some!” Ollie cries, sobering and straightening up to skip after her. Halfway to the door, he bursts into laughter again.
Dusty slams the door behind them. Shane and Sawyer are left behind, still holding hands.
“I bet,” Ollie says, cracking open a jar of moonshine and inspecting it before downing half of it in one shot, “They’re gonna break up within the week.”
“You’re right,” Dusty says, closing her eyes in defeat. “Fate’s sake. And then they’re gonna get back together in another week’s time. It’s just gonna be a hell circle of breaking up and getting back together. Over and over."
Ollie laughs brightly. "So, just like always?"
"But worse," Dusty insists. "Because now they're also going to be having sex on the side. This is a terrible idea."
Ollie laughs again. "I'm sure it won't be that bad." He pauses to consider, frowning. "Actually, it might be that bad."
"Aren't they getting along now?" Sid asks. "Isn’t this good?"
Dusty sighs and downs another gulp of moonshine. "Sid," she says. "I don't think Shane and Sawyer are capable of getting along for long amounts of time."
She opens her eyes. Ollie is grinning at her, teeth gleaming. "Bet you five coppers it'll be a week and a half."
Dusty can feel her headache starting already. "Deal," she says. "They'll be 'over' in less than a week."
As it turns out, Shane and Sawyer do not even last five days.
"You always do this," Sawyer snaps, striding after Shane with his eyebrows pulled low. Shane storms away from him, flipping him off behind his back. "Don't ignore me!"
"Oh, and?" Shane sneers. "You're the one that started it. You fucking pushed me!"
"You can't always be the little spoon," Sawyer insists. “Yer so fucking selfish.”
"And you're always on my case!" Shane snaps. "I don't know why we even got together."
"Well, me neither," Sawyer snarls. "I don’t know why I ever thought that being around you more was a good idea.”
"Well, I'm glad we can at least agree on one thing,” Shane sneers, face ugly with disdain.
"Fine.”
"Fine!"
The two storm off in different directions, fuming.
"Oy," Dusty sighs, who had witnessed the entire thing when she went down for water. "You owe me five coppers," she tells Ollie the next time they see each other.
Ollie may owe her five coppers, but honestly she thinks Ollie is the only one winning in this god-forsaken place. By the next day, Shane and Sawyer are back to ignoring each other. Instead of eyefucking, they’re just lashing out at everyone who comes close. Ollie, of course, finds it hilarious… at least up until the point where he gets snapped at, in which he spends the rest of the day sulking.
"Ey, Sawyer," Dusty says, leaning across the table and stretching out her arm. "Could you pass me my moonshine back? I want a sip."
Sawyer, who is clutching the jar in his hands with his jaw clenched, scowls and looks up. "Why don't you get it yourself, huh?" he snaps. "Why do I have to do everything around here? Can't you get up and do something for once?"
By the last sentence, he's out of his chair, stomping over to Dusty and slamming the jar on the table in front of her. "Here's your fuckin' moonshine," he growls, already stomping away.
Dusty blinks after him, at a loss. She uncaps the jar and takes a long, long sip.
"I'm fine," Shane bites out when Dusty makes her way out of the chapel to meet him. They're 'going to check on the traps.' Dusty does not have high hopes for this excursion.
"Didn't ask," she sighs. "Let's just go, yeah?"
"Good, cause I don't want to talk about it," Shane snaps, tramping through the underbrush.
It's blissfully, blissfully quiet for once. If not for Shane's tangible sulking, she could almost enjoy it. No Sawyer about to yell at her. No Sid on the verge of tears. No Ollie having the time of his life.
Unfortunately, she is with the root of the problem. Or, one of the roots of the problem.
"I hate him," Shane grumbles when they get there, unscrewing the jar and gulping it down. "Seriously, I hate him. Who does he think he is?"
I still didn't ask, Dusty thinks mournfully. "Mmhm," she says vaguely, downing her own jar.
Unfortunately, this only spurs Shane onwards. "Seriously, he gets so angry all the time!" he bursts out. "I don't mean to get him mad, but it's like I exist and he gets pissed. Like, chill, not everything I do is a personal attack."
Dusty closes her eyes. She has half a mind to revoke Shane's alcohol privileges. She makes another unenthusiastic noise.
"He's so infuriating," Shane grinds out, grip tightening on the jar. Dusty idly wonders if it's going to shatter. "Always walking around with that stupid face—that stupid nose profile—and that stupid coat…"
Oh, no. Dusty cracks her eyes open in alarm. "Shane—"
Shane's eyes are growing somewhat distant now. "I bet he does it to piss me off," he muses, a dark look in his eye. "He has no business being that—"
"Shane," Dusty interrupts loudly, "Shut up."
Shane blinks. He looks at the jar, which has stood up impressively under the force of his grip, then at Dusty. "Oh," he says.
They lapse into silence. Dusty closes her eyes in silent thanks that she didn't have to listen to Shane cry about Sawyer's attractiveness again. That is, until he speaks up again.
"Hey, Dusty," he says suddenly. There's a note of slyness in his voice that sets alarm bells ringing in Dusty's head. Wearily, she cracks her eyes open and takes a sip. She only has a moment to be suspicious before Shane drops it on her.
"Let's start dating."
Dusty stops. Suddenly, she's deathly calm and fully sober. She sets her jar down carefully and sits up. "Excuse me?"
"Let's date," Shane says, either oblivious or incredibly, incredibly stupid. "It'll be fun. We can mess around, get Sawyer jealous—"
The crack of her fist against Shane’s eye is so, so satisfying.
"Hey!" Shane exclaims, grimacing with his hands covering his face. "What the fuck—"
"You shut the fuck up," Dusty spits, hands shaking. Her knuckles are stinging, but she hardly recognizes it over the roar of her ears. Her mouth twists unconsciously, pulling into a snarl. "You're a real piece of shit."
She looks down at Shane, feeling her jaw tremble and her fingers spasm. There's a wide-eyed confusion on his face that makes her want to march over and punch it off of his face. There's also hair curling around his jawbone and over his cheeks, which makes her makes to go over and—
She does neither. She spits at him again, her expression contorting. "I can't stand to fuckin' look at you," she snarls. "Find yer own way back." With that, she turns and storms away, leaving Shane there, sprawled on the forest floor.
"Oh, Dusty,” Sawyer calls as she makes her way past him, eyebrows pulled together in annoyance. "Have you seen Shane?"
"He’s in the forest, drunk off his ass," Dusty snaps as she brushes past. “Yer free to kill him.”
It's a special sort of day when Ollie is the most reasonable adult in the chapel, but it seems today is one such occasion. Wonder of all wonders, in this particular matter he somehow manages to be the only tolerable and halfway sensible one.
"Oh," he says when he cracks open the trap door and sees her, smile dimming. "Are you…?"
"I need someone to get shitfaced with," she says suddenly "One who won't remind me of my miserable romantic endeavors."
Ollie snaps into a salute, a grin lighting his face. "Absolutely," he says. "Though, if you want, I could make little Shane dolls and you could stab them…?"
Dusty considers it. "That wouldn't be so bad," she admits thoughtfully, flexing her hands. "Let's try it. But only after I get fucking slammed."
"Yes ma'am," Ollie says, cackling. He swings the trap door open and gestures her inside.
Dusty hauls her bag of moonshine with her, setting it down and cracking her knuckles. She's very much looking forward to not having to think for a couple of hours.
"So I’ve got this squirrel trapped in my shirt and I’ve got to wrangle it while running," Ollie is rambling, absentmindedly pushing his hair out of his face as he fiddles with the thread and needle in his hands. "But then I get stopped by this one colonist. And at first I'm like, I really need to run, buddy. But then…"
Ollie pauses, and looks up. Dusty meets his gaze a little curiously. "Dusty," he says. "Dusty, this guy was super hot. Like, the hottest guy I've ever seen. He smiled at me and I swear I started hearing angels singing. I could grate cheese on his jawline. So of course I stopped."
Dusty nods absentmindedly, squinting at the jar in her hand. Is it the fifth…? Or maybe the seventh…? Well, either way, it was empty. She tosses it aside and grabs another one.
"I start talking him up, you know? Like, I know that there’s a maniac chasing after me who wants my blood samples, but this guy was so hot. His arms were just—anyway. I pull him into the alleyway first, because I'm not stupid, and we’re talking and, honestly, he seems kinda into me. And I'm starting to think that maybe we can fuck right there against the wall, but I still have the squirrel in my shirt, and it’s getting really hard to try and hide it while it’s thrashing.”
Ollie snaps his fingers and grins. Dusty’s eyes follow the movement. "But that's when Blood Sample bursts into the alley," he continues. "All 'You’re a freak of nature,' and whatever. Hot Guy starts freaking out, but honestly I'm super relieved because I still have a really angry squirrel and this is the best way to get rid of it. So I grab the thing and just throw it at Blood Sample. Hot Guy screams, but honestly at this point I'm just thinking about all the other ways I can make him scream. So I grab him and run out of the alley while Blood Sample is wrestling the squirrel."
Ollie pauses. "Actually, I forgot what happened," he says thoughtfully. "Actually, this story is kind of boring, now that I think about it. Do you want me to tell a different one?"
"Ollie," Dusty says slowly, watching the world spin behind her eyes and wondering which way is up. "I don't think you've lived through a single boring moment."
Ollie laughs. "Aww, thanks!" he cheers. "Ooh, I remember what happened! I started flirting with him again, and then Hot Guy freaked out and threw a plate of spaghetti in my face. Then he ran off.” He pouts.
Dusty blinks. "How did he get the spaghetti…?"
"Oh, he had it the whole time," Ollie says. "He was carrying it."
Dusty says, "I see," even though that explains very little.
"That's how Sawyer found me," Ollie says brightly, sadness forgotten. "Covered in spaghetti and also like, kind of horny. He was disappointed. Even when I explained! He didn't get it."
Dusty nods slowly. "I see," she says again, though she doesn't. All she knows is that Ollie got spaghetti thrown in his face by some colonist. At the very least… "Thanks," she says abruptly, though maybe she slurs the words a little. "I feel better about myself now."
Ollie beams. "Thank you!" he exclaims, even though it’s not a compliment. Hearing about Ollie's shitshow of a life, she can feel better about the state of her own. It’s important to recognize that it could always be worse. "So, do you want to hear about the time I had to pretend to be a butler and ended up sucking someone off to keep—"
"Actually," Dusty says. "Do you have that Shane doll?"
Impossibly, Ollie brightens even more. "Yes!" he cheers, presenting a small Shane made out of wool. "I just finished him."
Dusty stares at its stitched eyes. It really is a decent resemblance, all things considered. Ollie offers her a knife and the doll. "Go at it," he says, with far too much glee.
"Don't have to tell me twice," Dusty mutters, snatching both items. She stares at doll-Shane's little wool face, feeling her rage grow with each second. She places the doll on the ground, then stabs the knife straight into its face.
"Fuck you," she crows. "How does it fucking feel?"
"You show him!" Ollie exclaims, head bobbing. "Rip his guts out!"
Dusty rips the knife out and stabs doll-Shane again. And again. And again. "Go fuck yourself," she snarls, blood roaring in her ears as tiny pieces of wool fly through the air. "You are the most insensitive, disgusting, selfish piece of garbage that I've ever met."
Dusty drops the knife, hands shaking. She's breathing hard. On the floor, the doll has been completely eviscerated, reduced to little shreds of wool.
"Whoo!" Ollie starts clapping behind her. He starts cheering, and Dusty feels a little grin tug her mouth up.
"Do you have another one?" she asks.
Ollie flashes her a grin. "Give me five minutes."
"I could have sworn he liked me," Dusty is saying, waving her hands mindlessly through the air. "Like, it wasn't just my imagination. That guy has no subtlety when he's drunk."
Ollie hums, nodding along.
"I don't know if he's just super dumb or something," Dusty says savagely, "But I don't think he knows that I like him. If he does know then I'm gonna break his nose. And give him another black eye. And maybe another chip in his teeth. Symmetrical, so he looks stupid."
Ollie hums approvingly. Dusty nods.
"But even if he doesn't, like, who the fuck asks someone that? To just mess around to get Sawyer jealous in their neverending pissing contest? Like, I know you're hung up on Sawyer. You don't have to rub it in my face."
Ollie nods again. Dusty narrows her eyes.
"And their dumb little romance is so fucking stupid, too," she hisses. "Like if Shane just rejected me that would be fine. I'd get over it. But then he goes and dates Sawyer, of all people? And they won't ever leave me alone because they both have the temperament of toddlers and keep getting into hissy fits? And I need to stop them and give them fucking relationship counselling when I'm in love with Shane myself?"
Ollie makes a sympathetic noise. Dusty lets out a small scream, grabbing an empty jar of moonshine and waving it around.
"But no, I'm the ‘responsible’ one. I'm the only one who knows what emotions are so I'm the one that has to hold their hands when their fragile egos get bruised."
Ollie grimaces, then nods. Dusty lets out a short huff of frustration.
"And honestly? I'm fucking sick of it. Get over yourselves. He stole the blankets; whatever! Get over it! I have to deal with people who relentlessly annoy me about things I don't care about, and guess what? I don't start week-long arguments that make everyone around me miserable. Learn to talk like fucking adults and admit you have feelings instead of just starting petty arguments. I'm tired of your shit."
Ollie wordlessly hands her another Shane doll. "Thank you," she tells him, then starts systemically ripping it to little shreds.
Shane goes to apologize three days later.
She is begrudgingly impressed. She didn’t think the bastard would apologize at all. It is, by all standards, a terrible apology, but at least it is one.
“Dusty!” Shane says when he sees her, a nervous smile lighting his face. He’s leaning on the wall next to the doorway, clearly waiting for her. He does, Dusty is pleased to note, have a black eye. “Just the person I wanted to see—”
“Cut the shit, Shane,” Dusty snaps, marching past him. “Spit it out.”
“H-hey, wait!” Shane exclaims, trailing after her. He coughs, probably fixing his hair. “Did I tell you that you look great today? You look especially stunning—”
“Fate’s sake,” Dusty growls, pivoting on her heel to face him. “Don’t waste my time.”
Shane clears his throat, looking off to the side. He hands her a jar of moonshine. “I made this for you,” he offers.
Dusty raises her eyebrows. She snatches it, because alcohol is alcohol, then starts marching off again. “Is that all you wanted?” she drawls. “To give me alcohol? ‘Cause if so, fuck off.”
“No!” Shane assures, hurriedly running after her. “I just—”
Dusty sighs and turns to face him again, accepting that he’s never going to leave her alone until he gets to the point. He stops too, looking particularly constipated.
“Can we be friends again?” he blurts.
Dusty barks out a laugh, feeling her expression curl into a sneer. “‘Can we be friends again?’ Are you listening to yourself? That’s your apology? Fuck off.”
“No! I mean—”
Shane fumbles with his words. Dusty doesn’t bother to wait for him to swallow his pride enough to give a half-assed ‘sorry,’ so she turns around again, ready to leave him struggling. Maybe if she walks fast enough she can lose him.
“I wasn’t thinking,” he blurts, running after her again. “I shouldn’t have—done that.”
He sounds like he’s pulling teeth. Each word is begrudgingly pulled out of him like it’s physically painful. Dusty grits her teeth.
“I know,” she snaps. “I know you fucked up. You don’t have to tell me that. Now, unless you’re going to tell me something I don’t already know or haven’t heard, stop following me. Fuck off.”
With that, she speeds off, leaving Shane standing alone in the middle of the forest.
Of course, because they’re Shane and Sawyer, they get back together within two more days.
Dusty is up in the early morning, getting water in the hopes that it’ll calm her raging hangover, when she stops.
They’re kissing. Right in the hallway. Where they all walk down several times each day. Including Sid.
At first, she just gapes, trying to puzzle out the scene in front of her through the haze of her hangover. They’re really intense about the kissing thing. Sawyer has Shane pushed against the wall, hands messing up his hair. Shane is arching up against him, hands hooked around his neck.
They break away, gasping. “Fuck,” Shane whispers, voice husky. “Sawyer—”
Dusty snaps back to reality, broken out of her haze. “Guys,” she snarls, marching up to them. Her headache is back in full force, and she grimaces. “Not in the hallway.”
Startled, they break away from each other. “Dusty!” Shane exclaims, voice high. “I didn’t see you.”
“Obviously,” Dusty says with a sigh, massaging her forehead. “Look, I don’t care if you make out, but not in the hallway.”
Sheepish, Sawyer coughs. “Sorry,” he says, face red. “We’ll be careful.”
“Um,” Shane squeaks, flushing. Dusty refuses to think of it as cute. She won’t. “We—”
“Don’t care,” Dusty grumbles. “Just go.”
“R-right!” Shane grabs Sawyer by the hand, running off. Presumably to one of their own rooms. Where they can make out and fuck in peace. Ugh. Dusty needs more alcohol, and it’s not even noon.
Shane is on him as soon as the door is closed, touch trailing up his chest and leaving Sawyer’s nerves sparking at the contact. “Come on,” he coaxes, grin sharp. From the proximity, Sawyer can see the way that intensity blows Shane's pupils wide. He can track the curve of his eyelashes. "What are you going to do to me?"
Sawyer grabs Shane and pulls him into a kiss, yanking him minutely closer. Shane makes a soft, surprised sound, and Sawyer's hand tightens on his wrist. His other hand reaches up to Shane’s cheek, mouth moving against his.
Shane gasps wordlessly. Pushing Sawyer onto the bed, he crawls onto Sawyer's lap and drapes himself over him. He nibbles Sawyer's bottom lip, prompting a small moan.
"Fuck," Shane gasps as they break away. "You're so hot."
"Shut up," Sawyer growls, tugging him into another kiss. It's rougher than the last. Their teeth jar together unpleasantly, and Shane's hands tighten on Sawyer's shoulders, fingernails digging into skin. When they finally break away, they're panting through bitten lips, clothes askew.
"You look better like this," Sawyer says in a low voice, feeling Shane shiver. "Wrecked. If I knew this was all it took to shut you up—ah," Sawyer lets out a gasp as Shane's mouth finds his collarbone.
He nibbles on the patch of skin there, and Sawyer can't help the groan that slips past his lips. Shane draws away with a shaky exhale, leaving behind a wet mark. Smirking and never letting his gaze stray from Sawyer’s, he presses another kiss to his skin, trailing more hickeys up his neck.
"Ah—Fuck you," Sawyer gasps out, voice breathy. His hands mess with Shane's hair, pawing at his clothes and ripping them loose. "F-fuckin'asshole."
Shane's teeth find a particularly sensitive spot, and Sawyer gasps, feeling pleasure roll through him as Shane nibbles at it. He plays with the spot lazily for several moments, before drawing back with a wet pop. "You were saying?" he drawls, panting. A smug, tired grin plays over his lips.
Sawyer growls, watching Shane's half-lidded eyes fill with lust. He grabs Shane's wrists and crowds him against the bed. "I think," he says, watching as Shane’s mouth tugs up further into that infuriating smirk of his, "I'm going to ruin you."
With that, the cycle continues, except now instead of avoiding each other they can’t keep their hands off each other.
“Dusty,” Sid begins, eyes straying nervously over to Shane and Sawyer, “What—”
“Ignore them,” Dusty says, waving a hand in their direction and keeping her attention fixed on her toast. “They’re hopeless.”
“Uh.”
Dusty looks up at the other side of the kitchen. Yep. They’re still making out. “If you ever start dating someone,” she tells Sid, “Learn what common decency is.”
With that, she sighs and puts down her butter knife. “Break it up,” she yells, clapping her hands together loudly. “Sid’s here!”
They spring away from each other, eyes averted. "Sid!" Sawyer says loudly. He’s covered in hickeys and other marks. Fate’s sake, Shane. "It's good to see ya’."
"You're kissing Shane," Sid says accusatorily.
"Uh, about that," Sawyer says, coughing. The two haven't completely untangled; his hands are still on Shane and curling possessively around him. Shane leans closer, tracing a finger along the line of Sawyer's jaw, and smirks.
"Why are you kissing Shane?" Sid asks. "Aren't you guys fighting?"
"We got back together," Sawyer says, looking extraordinarily uncomfortable. Dusty is spitefully glad. Shane leans even further forward, lips ghosting by the shell of Sawyer's ear, and whispers something that makes his face flush red.
"Seriously, Shane?" Dusty asks, rolling her eyes. Shane straightens, mortified. Sid frowns.
"Just like that?"
"Listen," Dusty says, turning to her and placing a hand on her shoulder. "Don't be like them."
"Hey!"
"It's true," Dusty continues. "Don't let them fool you for a second into thinking that this—" she gestures at Shane and Sawyer, both different shades of horny and embarrassed "—is functional in any way. Find a stable relationship."
Shane ends up coming to her with another attempt at an apology not long after.
"Dusty," he says, coming over to stand next to her timidly. "Can we talk?"
Honestly, Dusty is a little tired of being mad at Shane. Ollie is only fun in small doses. "Go ahead.”
Shane sits next to her, close but not enough to touch. They sit there for a moment, Dusty waiting and Shane summoning the courage. Finally, Shane looks up at her and says, in a small voice, "I'm sorry."
Dusty's eyes widen. Shane takes a deep breath, then continues.
"I shouldn't have tried to use you to get Sawyer jealous. Honestly, I…"
Shane looks away. He wrings his hands, a rare hesitance passing over him. “You're important to me," he says finally. "I don't want to ruin things. I still don't quite understand, but I—I'm sorry."
Dusty closes her eyes. "Shane," she says. "Shane, you still don't get it, do you?"
"Get what?" There’s no mockery in Shane’s voice, only confusion. "What happened?"
Dusty exhales, looking him in the eyes. "Shane," she says quietly. "I'm in love with you."
Shane looks stricken, looking down at his hands then back at Dusty. "I—" he begins. His eyes trace over her face with something like regret, a little bit of longing. He reaches out halfway through the space between them.
"Save it," Dusty scoffs, brushing his hand away. “I wouldn't want to be second to Sawyer.”
“Pshh, Sawyer,” Shane scoffs, trying to find some of that old levity to slip back into. “It’s just a casual thing. He’s good in bed, that’s all.”
“Don’t patronize me,” Dusty snaps. “I know you’re hung up on him.”
Shane goes silent. “Maybe,” he admits. “I don’t know.”
Dusty sighs. "I'm rooting for you guys," she says. "Don't know why, but I am. Sort out your issues, alright?"
“We can fucking try," Shane grumbles. He shakes himself, then looks at Dusty. Traces of nervousness line his body. "We okay?"
Dusty smiles, slightly forced but still there. "We're okay.”
More days bring more passive aggressive bickering from their favorite power couple.
“It’s like watching a murder in slow motion,” Dusty grumbles. “There’s gonna be a bloodbath, but it isn’t happening yet.”
“Like clockwork,” Ollie agrees, peering over at Shane and Sawyer. Dusty begrudgingly spins around to watch them. As she turns around, Shane bites down on Sawyer’s collarbone, making him gasp and tug sharply at his hair.
Dusty closes her eyes and turns back around. At her side, Ollie snickers quietly.
"Can't you be gentle for once?" she hears behind her, and puts her head in her hands.
"Well, stop biting me, then."
"Two days," Ollie tells her. She snorts.
"Three?" she guesses.
"3 coppers," Ollie offers. She nods.
It turns out to be two.
"You always just expect me to do everything!"
"Come on, I helped!"
"You were there, that's about it. Do you even care?"
"Ugh, not this again. Is that the only thing you care about?"
"Well, at least I care about something. All you ever do is sit around."
"Well, you wouldn't be anything without me in the first place!"
"If that's what you want to tell yourself, sure. Don't kid yourself; you wouldn't last a day on your own."
"Oh, please. Like I couldn’t get by without you. You’re worthless to me.”
“Fucking leave, then, if you really think that!”
“Fine then! Asshole.”
“Three coppers,” Ollie tells her smugly, holding out three fingers. She begrudgingly hands them over.
"Dusty?"
It’s not strange to find Shane outside her door. However, it is strange to see uncertainty on his face.
One look at him and she can already tell she’s gonna need alcohol for this situation. “One second.” She leaves the door cracked and retrieves a jar of moonshine. “Alright, what’s up?”
Shane rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. Dusty sighs and opens the door wider for him to get in, and he scrambles inside.
“So,” Shane says once he’s inside, picking at a stray thread in her pillowcase. “Uh. I don’t know what to do with Sawyer.”
Dusty closes her eyes and takes a sip.
“Er, I can leave if you want!” She can hear the undercurrent of anxiety in his voice. It’s almost sweet. “If you’d rather—”
“Nah, I want to hear this,” Dusty says, cracking open her eyes. “So you need help with Sawyer.”
"Ugh," Shane groans, glaring at the floor. "I don't think we're ever going to make it work. It's all just the same."
Dusty takes another long sip and looks over at him. "Do you want to make it work?" she asks. "Do you want to have an actual relationship with Sawyer?”
Shane goes quiet. "I don't know," he admits. "I thought that it was just for fun, at first, but then… I don't know."
He looks up. "I think I do," he says quietly. He sits back and frowns. A trace of disgust crosses his face. "Fate’s sake. I like Sawyer. I actually like Sawyer."
"Take your time," Dusty says dryly. Shane glares at her. "Do you need a moment?"
"I'm fucked," Shane says, straightening up and running a hand through his hair. "How the fuck did this happen?"
"I dunno." Dusty shrugs. "Honestly, it doesn't surprise me."
Shane does a double take, appalled. "What?"
"You're obsessed with each other," Dusty explains, examining her fingernails with disinterest. "Always have been."
Shane makes a face. "Gross."
They sit in silence for a bit, Shane deep in thought and Dusty opening another jar.
"Honestly, I think it's the same for him," she says as she finally gets it open. "You ought to talk to him. Properly."
“I’ve tried,” Shane scoffs. “Do you hear us?”
"No, idiot," Dusty says, setting down her moonshine. "If you want this to work, you actually hafta be vulnerable. Admit that you care about him. And you gotta actually listen to him, too. Find some way to compromise instead of just pissing each other off."
Honestly, she could probably sit here trying to come up with ways to fix Shane's hopeless relationship with Sawyer the entire night. Their total number of problems was a particularly long grocery list of things. However, she's not about to get into the habit of getting invested in hopeless things, and she values her own sanity.
"Alright, shoo," she says, beginning to usher him out the door. "Go talk to yer prince charming. I got things to do."
Shane's face scrunches up, but he lets himself get shoved out the door nonetheless. Before he turns away, he has a pensive, thoughtful look on his face.
The next day, Shane and Sawyer are holding hands again. They're smiling. Dusty watches as Sawyer laughs quietly at something Shane says.
"One week," Ollie says when she makes eye contact.
Dusty smiles. Her chest feels tight. It hurts, but she's not petty enough to be spiteful over something like this. "Two weeks."