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charleslee-valentine · 3 months

Text

Butterfly Bleu

ship: LG x Stretch x Chop Top (Bobby Sawyer)

word count: ~3,900

warnings: Alcohol and drunkenness, briefly implied abusive family dynamics, very mild sexual content.

_______

Drink in hand, an arm around her waist, Stretch observed the crowd of bodies.

Chaos isn’t her thing, she’d much prefer spending tonight with her honey alone, but what the boss says goes, so they’re throwing their little publicity party, and she’ll pretend she isn’t irritated by it.

The alcohol is disgusting. She takes one sip and grimaces, looking around for something to focus on other than the taste damn near close to gasoline that lingers on her tongue.

One man manages to catch her eye.

Even with LG holding her close, she’s been looking for something more. Her heart just longs for a kind of love that can fit more than two people in it.

It’s something they’ve talked about, something he claims to be more than okay with in theory. Stretch knows his jealous little heart might take some time getting used to it. It’s sweet honestly, how defensive of their relationship he gets. Nobody ever cherished her like LG cherishes her. There’s reason to believe he’d tell her honestly if he didn’t think the whole multiple partner thing wouldn’t work.

So she doesn’t feel too guilty about getting caught up on the man across the room.

There’s something eye-catching about him, be that the waist length, inky black hair swiveling about, the rainbow tie-dye shirt straight out of the sixties, or the way he sways and jostles to the music. She likes his energy, likes his carefree nature, even if she can tell he’s had a few too many to drink.

Thing is, this is still a party for the station. A ploy to bring in all the employees and the sponsors and shit to this idiotic get together so they wouldn’t give up on the ridiculously long shifts. But this special man, well Stretch doesn’t recognize him at all. Looks like they’ve got themselves a party crasher.

After a while of just watching, she leans into LG a little more strongly, asking him, without ever looking away from her point of interest, “Who do you s’pose he is?”

An expression reminiscent of a pout, and a little shrug of his shoulders, is all the answer she needs, even before he follows it up with, “Hell if I know, darlin’.”

Huh. She must be being obvious then. It’s not like the hippie and her redneck have enough in common to say she has a type. Maybe LG even got his eye on the man too.

Stretch’s mind is made up in a heartbeat.

“I’m gonna go talk to ‘im.”

LG though, he holds on a little tighter, scowling his distaste, “You up to date on yer shots?”

Now, his mean and his teasing are two totally different animals. She’d know it if he really didn’t approve. His voice gets all deep and his face gets all red in that way that makes her stomach flutter. This is just part of his game, the son of a bitch.

She gives his shoulder a light smack, and scolds him, “LG!”

His hands raise up in self defense, “Just sayin’ honey. Boy don’t look like the mingling type.”

Mhm. Alright.

She lifts her chin up and defiantly declares, “Well I think he’s cute.”

The confirmation softens LG enough for him to uncoil his arm from around her and let her go off on her little adventure. He’d stay close behind, but the flirting isn’t really his thing, never was. Softy.

Stretch pulls away after one final press of her lips to his cheek, and marches her way on over.

“Hey there.”

The object of her affection whips to look at her, blinking his eyes fast, like he’s gotta focus back in on reality. A smile stretches across his face, slow and lazy-like. Yeah, he’s more than a little tipsy. Something she notices in his smile, is he’s got an overbite. Cute.

After a moment of just looking, he waves, shaking his fingers in a little rippling motion. His giant smile turns into a loose giggle. Lord, this boy is wasted. Probably explains why they ran out of beer bottles an hour or so ago and had to dig some out of stock.

So, it becomes less about asking his little ass to bed, and more about taking care of him.

First, niceties. “Haven’t seen you ‘round before. I’m Stretch.”

He nods for a long time, letting her nickname sink in. Or maybe just not realizing he’s supposed to say something for a moment. Eventually, he bursts out with, “I-I’m Bobby! M-My brothers call me Ch-Chop Top though.”

Doesn’t sound the most endearing. Stretch raises an eyebrow.

“Would it be rude of me to ask ya why?”

“Oh, i-it’s ‘cause of this. Lookie.”

Without waiting a second or even taking a breath, Bobby parts his hair, pulling back the long strands to reveal a crude looking scar. It spans across almost the entire side of his head, in a thick jagged line.

For some reason, Stretch’s instinct is to reach out and touch.

The more strange thing is, he lets her. Locks eyes with her and leans into the foreign touch like it isn’t weird at all.

Her fingers trace the mark, imagining the ghosts of pain, feeling the tugs in her heart for a stranger. Some kind of connection brought her over here, and dammit it’s keeping her rooted to the spot.

Soft is the only word for it when she asks him, “What happened there, honey?”

“‘Chete. I-I-I let my guard d-down.”

Seems about likely for a boy who let her touch a vulnerable place like that. Stretch doesn’t know what to say, other than that she kind of wishes she could’ve been there for him back then. Not the most appropriate sentiment to share right away.

Lucky for her, LG was snooping. He presses close behind her and asks, making assumptions from the nature of the wound.

“So, you a vet’ran then?”

Stretch puts her hand back on LG’s chest, but rolls her eyes at him, playful more than anything, “Don’t worry ‘bout LG. He likes mindin’ other folks' business.”

“Hey, I served two tours in ‘Nam myself.” LG isn’t really offended, but he could pass it off as being so. It’s cute how his voice gets all high when he gets defensive. For the sake of the one who doesn’t know this story already, LG addresses Bobby with a further introduction, “Chief warrant officer in the navy.”

Bobby looks like he’s thinking for a minute, like it takes effort to remember his own role in the war, which wouldn’t be too surprising since it’s been years, and a head injury could do that to ya, “A-Army staff s-sergeant. V-Corps trained.”

Stretch doesn’t know much about the military beyond what she needs to, the violence and the toxicity is even less her scene than some random party. Still, even she knows that that position outranks LGs unit.

LG himself raises his eyebrows up, impressed, and gives a flirtatious little salute.

Their beau seems to blush, though it’s hard to tell in the lighting of the dimly lit party, “Aw, g-gee.”

They can however be certain that he twirls his hair around his finger like a cartoon character on a first date, all flattered and shy now.

LG looks to Stretch and Stretch to LG. They’re both just a little bit in love.

Thoughts start to wander. Things like arms around little waists and kisses on pale skin. Both of them get a little lost in it.

Bobby interrupts the intensity with a simple question after leaning into their space, “H-Hey, what’s this-this p-party for anyhow?”

Stretch answers automatically to pretend she isn’t flustered from getting caught in such a mind space, “New record for listeners on our radio station.”

His eyes get all wide and shine with excitement, that leeches into his limbs as he bounces slightly, “Y-You’re th-that Stretch?”

So he’s a fan. Stretch smiles bright as LG, always a little bitter about nobody knowing his name from the radio, gives a little scoff.

She gives her man a little bit of a shove but keeps her attention on Bobby, “The one and only.”

That confirmation only seems to make him more excited. He taps his fingers together and widens his stance, rocking back and forth on his heels, “Me a-and my little brother, B-Bubba, we listen to ya a-all the-the time!”

“Then you know I’m not so interesting.” Stretch denies.

It’s not false modesty. Droning on about radio contests and fun facts about Texas isn’t exactly Stretch’s idea of enthralling. Trust in it that as soon as she can find a better gig than working shifts at the station with her honey, she’ll be leaving the head banging music far behind in her past.

“N-No way! I-I think you’re the-the cool-est!” Bobby insists right back.

Guy’s got some of the longest hair Stretch has ever scene, shades on in the dark, and did time in the service, and he thinks Stretch is cool? Mark her down as pleasantly surprised.

Enough of this introductory awkward flirting. Stretch takes his hands and brings him closer, right up to where she can finally see the color of those eyes behind the purple hue of the glasses. Pretty pale blues.

They tic and twitch and never focus on one thing. For just a moment, Stretch considers putting a little distance between them again. If there’s drugs in his system, she’s not interested. There’s a reason she doesn’t date the college dropout losers her own age.

But she can feel him tense up, feel the little jerks of his muscles spanned out over the next few moments, and feel him trying to force them away. She’d heard of a syndrome like that and her beau must have it.

In the face of feeling him try to pull away and hide it, the motions many have probably told him were shameful, she makes sure it’s known how she feels.

“It sure flatterin’ having someone like you say such nice things about me.”

It’s his turn to get a little bashful.

Bobby’s cheeks flush pink enough to put a rose bush to shame, highlighting the wine colored birthmark on his cheek and making it appear a striking red. Stretch really, really wants to kiss it. So she does.

When he turns his face away to hide his blushing, she presses her lips to his skin, real gentle, barely a ghosting over.

His lanky ass arms squeeze a little tighter, finally realizing just how close the two of them have gotten. Maybe because of that, or maybe to hide that he’s so damn flustered, he speaks up.

“Oh, you wanna d-dance, Miss Stretch?”

Good enough excuse for holding a handsome stranger in her arms and kissing on him. She exchanges holding his hands for wrapping her arms around him, even if she were one to let him lead, the height difference might have made it a little difficult. Low around his waist is more her speed.

“Sure thing, honey.”

The music isn’t good, it’s the signature shitty riffs they play on the station, but she’s not gonna lie and say it isn’t any good for grinding up against a cute boy. And, alright, maybe she’ll admit she’d had a few tonight even though the liquor was gross. Something nice about getting lost in the contact and the heat and the thumping of a bass guitar in time with two heartbeats.

Three really, they haven’t forgotten LG.

Stretch reaches behind herself for him and tugs him closer, a little flutter in her chest when he puts a hand on the small of both her back and Bobby’s, keeping them close together.

“H-Hope I-I’m not step-steppin’ on no toes, officer.”

There’s a glint in his eye to match his sharp smile. Something competitive and playful, but neither of them miss the little bit of hope there too.

LG, for his part, doesn’t admit to the underscores of jealousy in his heart that struck down past attempts at this before they even got this far. A little shrug is all he gives, “Don’t mind it none. Girl don’t belong to me, so...”

“That’s right, I don’t.” Stretch gives a satisfied hum and kiss to her man, the silent praise that he’s trying to get out of his comfort to get what he wants. Which is, “But me and LG don’t mind sharin’, do we honey?”

LG just shrugs again. So he’s still a little shy. That ain’t a crime.

Their Bobby isn’t shy though.

“Y’all’s s-swingers ‘en?”

Just coming right out with it.

Might not be the word they use, but it’s good enough for now. Stretch can’t help herself that she gives a giggle of a laugh, “Somethin’ like that. You interested, sugar?”

It’s not like they love ‘em and leave ‘em, this is meant as a lasting sort of arrangement. Still, gotta start somewhere, and he seems pretty into the idea.

“S-Sure! I-I could use me some-some action.”

Dork. Stretch snorts at him and holds his face in between her hands. Giddy on alcohol and mostly love, she decides to kiss him, on the mouth this time.

Bobby kisses like a starved man. Hell, the way he’s trying to jump her, he’d have probably knocked a tooth out if Stretch wasn’t in control. Just the tiniest tug on a few strands of his hair has him back off enough they both get a second to breathe without choking on any tongues.

In that moment, with their boy hunched over and hiding in her shoulder, LG comes on the other side and reminds in her ear, “Darlin’, this guy’s drunker’n a jaybird. He ain’t comin’ home with us tonight.”

As if she’s perfectly sober. Spiked punch ain’t the same as her usual drink or two on the weekends. Only sober enough to have her senses about her.

“I know it, LG. But I ain’t gonna leave him for any roamin’ paws and pricks in this place.” She gives her reasoning firmly.

LG narrows his gaze just a little, “Well, get a move on, girly.”

Ah. So he’s gettin’ riled up. She’ll hold him to that later. For now, she’ll agree it’s time to get the hell out of here.

Instead of reigniting the kiss, she poses her Bobby a question, “Sugar, how’d you get here tonight?”

It takes him a bit to remember. For once, while he’s wracking his brain, he seems totally calm, and it’s almost unsettling. Loose energy is his natural state much more than worrying.

Finally, he recalls, “I-I come alllll by my-myself. N-None of m-my brothers is even w-with me!”

No way he’s driving his little ass anywhere like this. Stretch gives him an offer, “LG and me, we could take you home, honey.”

Not even the vagueness could lure him in. Maybe he sensed they intended to put him to bed and get a good breakfast in him and the morning and wanted nothing to do with the domesticity. When he shakes his head no, Stretch almost gets disappointed.

Turns out, he has a different kind of domesticity at home. The nagging family kind.

“N-Nah. Old m-man won’t be happy. I-I’s jus’ g-gonna stay out for-forever.”

“Our place then? LG can sleep on the couch.” Stretch immediately counters, just teasing some to make him comfortable.

“Hey!”

LG’s pouting doesn’t last long.

“Th-Thought we was sh-sharin’?” Bobby accompanied his comment by slinging his arm around LG and leaning more into him.

A packed party isn’t the best place for it, but it’s nice seeing him follow through on half of the deal. Nicer when LG turns the soft red color of the checks on his shirt.

He only pretends to roll his eyes as he clumsily fishes his keys from his pocket with the weight of two tipsy lovers against him, “Oh, alright.”

Parting the crowd and getting to the door is the easy part. Stretch leads, the three of them forming a chain by locking hands. It wouldn’t be too strange to try to stick together through the mass of bodies. Nobody would know about them, so long as they got out now.

“C’mon then. But you’re gonna keep your hands to yourself, okay?”

Bobby’s a-stumbling, but he’s happy and giggly as ever, barking in response, “Yes, m-ma’am!”

Only, as soon as they get him inside LG’s convertible, he’s passed out. Like a goddamn lightswitch. Stretch finds a flannel overshirt in the boot and lays it over him. Seems like the right thing to do with the top down and all. And it’s just romantic.

All ideas of romance go out the window when Bobby woke up and hurled his guts down the side of the car. At least it was on the road and not when they’d been on the dance floor.

Stretch turned around and rubbed his bony back through it. The alcohol and the disorder in his body and the old head wound, it couldn’t be good for anybody. LG had grimaced about his Chevy taking the hit, but at least asked up on him after.

Guarded as he is, he’s right about having a soft little heart under it all.

LG even carries him inside once they get there, and does, in fact, give Bobby his usual spot on the bed. His defense is that it’s different now that he got sick. Sure, sure. Stretch won’t burst his bubble just yet.

She will wander into the kitchen to make herself some tea though. Ain’t no way she’s going to sleep with this much of a buzz. A warm cup of lemon and honey usually seems to help clear her system.

Nurturing the mug, perched on the arm of the ratty couch, she asks LG, “Think he’ll wanna stay?”

“We sure he’s got any place else to go?” LG leans back in a reclined position, arm slung up by Stretch, but she can see his gears turning. Sweet thing isn't as relaxed as he can look.

Stretch tries to be reassuring, “He said he had family. I trust him.”

Doesn’t do much. LG thought of something she hadn’t. “Still don’t mean he really does. Lots of boys like us come home found out their families wanted nothin’ to do with ‘em.”

She doesn’t really see what difference it makes.

“Well it’s up to him, then.”

“And you’re alright with whatever he decides?”

Uh-huh. Stretch isn’t buying this. She puts a hand on LGs chest and gives it a push, sinking him back into the cushions just a bit. “You seemed quite fine when he was complimentin’ you. Jealous.”

“I ain’t-“ She rolls her eyes before he finishes, but he starts over in stride. Arguing like it even matters, “Vanita, I ain’t jealous.”

If he insists.

Stretch wears a smug little smile, hand drifting to his thin curls so he won’t hold it against her, “Good. Bobby’s gonna stay LG. Long as he needs. So I suggest you quit your poutin’.”

It isn’t the arrangement he objects to. LG isn’t going to lie and suddenly pretend he wasn’t interested. It’s just her teasing that gets him all flushed and irritated. He’s going to object to it again, “I ain’t-“

But Stretch isn’t hearing it. “Hush.”

Instead of letting it sit, she leans down to him and gives him a soft kiss. Something to tide over his longing heart maybe. Or just to shut them both up before their cat and mouse game turns a little more into a predator's vicious chase. No fun in that.

“Oh, awright.” The kiss softened him up. A little kindling of a smile even starts to spread across his face. Along with an idea in his head, “I’m checkin’ on your guest.”

Stretch won’t even try to hide how happy that makes her. The little burst of pleasant energy she gets is expressed by a wiggle in her shoulders, and a scrunch of her nose from how hard she’s smiling.

“Go ‘head. Give him a kiss for me.” To accentuate, she blows LG a little smooch, over to where he’s starting to walk away.

Of course, he pretends to be grumpy and swat at it like a bug flying around his head. Once he’s alone again is another story though. Well, alone with the sleeping Bobby in their bed.

Even in his sleep, he has those little twitches and jerks. They’re more subtle, but the motion never stops, not fully.

His scar is probably partly responsible for that. Peace don’t come easy. Not for anyone that saw what he would’ve, let alone with his injury.

Like this, LG can see a few places where the marred flesh stands out, barely hidden by a few strands of hair. The sickness he feels isn’t disgust, but remorse. Sadness for how much this lone soldier had gone through. More than they’d ever know probably.

When he’s sobered up they can ask Bobby about his situation, but talking ain’t the same as living it. Even his own career ending injury- a bullet two inches away from his spinal cord -wasn’t nothing like that, just enough he needed some monitoring, but not the counseling.

Maybe if he got it worse, he’d be just as wayward, just as eager to lose himself in some sleazy affair.

A new spark of sympathy lights up in his heart.

It’s all a game normally, but this, this man in their bed, ain’t nothing but serious. Ain’t gonna play it off or hide it when he fixes the covers over the damned skinny thing, ghosting the faintest kiss over his temple on the same side as his scar.

Wither way couldn’t have hidden it from Vanita if he’d wanted to. She’d silently crept her way over to watch from the doorway.

Like he’s been caught, defeated even, LG offers a monotonous, “Hell. Guess we’re keeping ‘im.”

“Oh, I knew you couldn’t say no!” Stretch tries to keep her voice low to not disturb sleeping beauty, but it crackles and squeaks with excitement.

It’s worth seeing the way she lights up.

She bounces her little ass over to him, her bracelets and little silver earrings a-twinkling. Not one for hiding emotion, at least not here in private, she’s overloaded with enough of that cheer she can’t keep it all inside.

Burying her face in his chest so the sound is muffled enough to not wake Bobby, she downright squeals. Would be a waste not to wrap his arms around her.

LG sways with her a moment, til enough of the happy feelings fly off and leave her be. It’s then he decides to tumble with her into bed, clothes on and all, on the side that would usually be hers alone.

Turns out the three of them could share the bed after all, so long as someone squeezed in the middle. Stretch assumed that position tonight, knocking out almost as fast as their beau had once she finally hit the pillows.

That just leaves LG, watching over and deciding, that even if he was admittedly a little more difficult than usual about the choice, he wouldn’t take it back. Against all hell, they’re gonna fight to make it work this time.

#chop top sawyer #bobby sawyer #vanita brock #stretch tcm2 #lg mcpeters #chop top x stretch x lg #my writing #iron butterfly fic titles for them and nothing else

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