Same you, Same me, Different us | Mollaney!verse | Mary & Tyson
Mary didn’t answer his questions for a few moments as she settled, her dogs laying down under the bench. “W-well I have these guys.” She mumbled, motioning to her dogs. “And they’re happy… So I’m doing a good job… I guess.” She wanted to cry… She wanted to scream. No I’m not Okay. I’m pitiful and sad and my life took a turn when I left you and I wish we never met, but at the same Time I wish I would’ve married You and claimed you as mine. I’m suffering and I wish you were mine, but you’re not anymore and being here is reminding me of that. I’m a wreak and I want you, my dear Tyson.—- Instead, she closed her eyes, cleared her mind and stood up again. “I’m… I’m very good.” Lies. All lies. Her watch beeped and she blushed. 2:30 was time to take her anxiety medication. She quickly swallowed a pill and looked back done to her hand, which had ceased shaking. Her thumb traced over the stitching on the leather of Churchill’s leash.
“W-What’s… um, Mary? What’s wrong?” He asked, sounding puzzled. It had been a few years since Tyson had last seen Mary, but even he could tell something was wrong. The medication was worrying, but Tyson hadn’t had time to figure out what it was for or if it was simple over the counter medication. “Do you… h-have a headache? Stomach ache? Something?”
"Is there a-anything I can do to help?” Asked Tyson, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably. He felt rather useless, knowing there was something wrong but not being able to do anything about it. He’d improved in the last few years, but Tyson was still wasn’t great at reading people. Especially those he’d once been close to.
Whilst Tyson remained largely oblivious, Lily could see. The Dalmatian Dhole cross whined and gently licked Mary’s hand, trying to comfort the women. Jack, meanwhile, sniffed where he’d seen the medication appear from; trying to figure out if there were also treats to be found. Tyson clicked his fingers twice then tapped his side, which stopped both dogs instantly and called the pair back to a sitting position at his side.
Tyson rarely smoked these days. In these past few years he’d been desperately clutching at straws to get a sense of control over his life and smoking had taken away his control, so he’d removed it from his life. Even so the pressures of work were getting to him and he needed a cigarette. He needed it now.
London was a big city and though it may take hours to find anyone specific, you were never more than a hundred meters from a smoker. At the third alley way he came to Tyson said, “h-hey there. Can I b-borrow a fag?”
Twice hunted || Moran and Delaney
Grabbing a glass out of his counter, Sebastian filled it with filtered water and then slid it down the island toward Tyson. He smiled as the pup answered. “Well, it’s not a common dish, I suppose.” He rolled his neck and grabbed the ingredients out of his fridge for the filet mignon recipe that he and his sister had created together.
Seb washed his hands and began preparations on the meat, cleaning it before he threw the cream into the saucepan. He worked diligently, looking over his shoulder from time to time to smile in Tyson’s direction. He hoped he wasn’t overdoing it. He hoped that Delaney would one day see his gestures as genuine. The soldier had a lot of darkness in his past. And the transition between him being a Colonel and then working for Jim Moriarty, he was willing to do anything to prove himself as worthy.
It took him about an hour to make dinner before he was finally setting two plates on the island across from each other. He grabbed a free stool and took it to the other side and sat directly across from Tyson. “Can I get you anything else?” He placed a napkin on the counter and then a knife and fork on top of it before sliding it to the other man. He didn’t think much about how nervous Tyson might be with a knife in his hand. He looked up from his plate. “Please, dig in. I hope it tastes well enough.”
Tyson would have offered to help Sebastian cook, but he knew he’d only be a hindrance to the other man. Though Tyson was capable of making delicious food, he couldn’t cook. At all. Instead he stayed sat down, silently sipping his glass of water; mercifully purging the taste of his medication from his mouth. Tyson tried not to focus on Sebastian too much as the man cooked, not wanting to allow himself to over think anything and stress himself out. Slowly down and controlling his breathing was enough to keep Tyson calm during the peacefully quiet.
“T-Thank you, Sebastian,” said Tyson, gently tapping the rim of the plate twice before picking up his cutlery. It didn’t appear often enough for Tyson to notice and try to defy, but it was one of the ticks brought on by his OCD. As quickly as he could and as quietly as he could, Tyson rattled off a quick pre-meal prayer in Hebrew, without stuttering; Tyson rarely stuttered when speaking in Hebrew, which is why he considered it his first language rather than English. He wasn’t ashamed of being Jewish and feeling it was important to pray before a meal, when he had the time to, but Tyson didn’t want to force Sebastian to listen to it either.
"This is tastes g-great,” he said, offering Sebastian a small smile. Tyson didn’t particularly care about what he ate, often he viewed eating as a chore, but he could still appreciate good food when presented with it. He bit into his lip whilst he thought. “So, um, i-is cooking something you enjoy d-doing, Sebastian?” Conversation never had been one of Tyson’s strong points. Just as it took him a long time to find his comfort zone, it took a while for Tyson to build up a rapport.
Send me a “♛” and I’ll summarize our muses relationship in one gif
Reblogging because perfect tags perfectly explain the dynamic of Sebastian and Tyson.