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perry van shrike

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It's been a weird few days for Harry. But weird in a good way, which is sort of what makes it weird. He's not really used to so many good things happening at once like that. He and Harmony are going out on Saturday (which, ok, that's going to be awkward since he's down to like, his last $40), he's got a job that doesn't involve moving heavy boxes across some nasty warehouse, and no-one's tried to shoot at him in several weeks.

He's celebrating by taking over Perry's sofa with a book he found in the office. He's half-way through The Sign of Four and wondering why no-one ever told him that the Victorians were into more than just melodramatic romance. He might have actually read these earlier if someone had bothered to tell him that there was actually a decent plot to them.

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"Fuck off," Harry mumbles.

"You fuck off. Let me in, or I'll come in anyway." Simple as that.

"Fuck off," Harry repeats.

When Perry inevitably comes into Harry's room, he'll find it for the most part all put together, with the boxes for all of the flat-pack stuff stacked neatly in the corner.

As for Harry, he's laid out on the bed like a stroppy teenager who's just been told he's grounded until graduation.

"Fine, I'm coming in," Perry takes in the room and pretends he's not impressed. "You know, if we got you a CD player, you could play Nirvana whilst being misunderstood."

Perry drops the book on Harry's bed. "I thought you might like this to read in the meantime."

"I always preferred Pearl Jam," Harry says, making a lame attempt at a joke.

He takes the book and puts it on the tiny little night stand.

"What do you want, Perry? Come to rub it in my face some more how much of a fuck-up I am? If I wanted that, I'd talk to my brother."

"Hmm. That figures. I bet you embraced the eighties more than anyone else," Perry stands in the middle of the room, awkwardly. "Look, are you really going to rob a store to pay for dinner at the Olive Garden?"

Okay, look, Perry's not good at this. Last time a guy got sulky on him, he just got naked. This is different.

"No," Harry says, still sounding like he's sulking. "Like I said, I don't even know what we're gonna do. Probably just go out for drinks or something."

"Well, okay, drinks. I can give you the name of a few decent places," maybe if he builds up the offer he can find out where he went wrong.

"The names, but not where to find them, right?" asks Harry.

That's right. He still hasn't forgiven Perry for pulling that stunt when he sent him off to the Domino Room.

"Hell, I'll put you in the cab myself," Perry rolls his eyes. "First round on me."

Harry takes a long moment to consider this.

"See, the problem I have with you is I can never tell if you're being sarcastic or not," he says. "I thought you were being serious back there in the kitchen, but apparently I was wrong, so I don't know."

"What? Of course I was serious. Hell, I just got you a fucking bed, the least I can do is see it gets christened properly,"

Harry is so confused right now, it isn't even funny.

Perry just looks at him. There's clearly thoughts going on, he can almost see the cogs working away. He's amazed there isn't smoke coming off the top of the dumb bastards head.

"So, wait. Are you helping me out, or aren't you?" Harry asks. He'd really like to get this straight, because it's driving him crazy.

"Yes, I'm helping you out, shit-for-brains," Perry snaps. "For Christ's sake, could you be any stupider?"

"It's not like I mean to be," Harry mutters, mostly to himself.

"Like I said, you don't really make it easy to know what's going on half the time."

There's no way Perry can answer that. Not in anyway that wouldn't make him look like a crazy-ass loser, anyway.

"Yeah, well, it's difficult for me to slow down to your level," he sneers. "Do you want my help or not?"

Harry shrugs dramatically. "I don't know. Are you just gonna take it away again when I'm not looking?"

"Only if you screw me over. I told you," okay, this is getting a bit chick-flick. "Also, I'm not kidding, the only place you're gonna get into looking like that is like, Arby's."

"Yeah, and I told you, I don't really have much else. I don't even know where that jacket went that Dabney gave me."

Sulk sulk sulk.

"Yeah, and I told you, before you started threatening to rob liquor stores and got your period, that we were going to Macy's. Now," Perry wonders if finger puppets would help. Probably not.

Harry gives Perry his confused face again.

"Should I shower first, or...?"

Hey, he's just trying to get up to speed. The plans keep changing on him, man.

Perry takes a long look at Harry.

"Probably. Some pants with a zipper might be good too. You've got ten minutes. Move it!"

And he stomps off down the hall.

Uhm. Well, then. Harry has no idea what just happened, but he knows that if he doesn't get cracking, Perry's gonna change the plans on him all over again.

He'd better find his jeans then, and hope to hell that they can pass for clean.

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