"Now that's not quite what I wanted to see on the other side of this door," Marcus says, his gaze drawn down toward the gun in Nate's hand. It isn't a threat and he isn't afraid -- not for himself, anyway, he's had more than a few guns pointed in his direction -- but it's not a good sight all the same. Not given the loss Nate has just suffered and while the thought of Sam being gone might cause Marcus a fair bit of pain, but it's not comparable to what Nate's feeling, not in the slightest.
Nate's not the sort to do anything stupid to himself, Marcus is sure of that. He's also not the sort to hurt a friend just because he's hurting, but as he steps into the apartment and hefts the beer, he still finds himself hoping Nate will put the gun down without needing to be encouraged to do so.
It might be Sam's, he realizes a little belatedly, and then feels like an arse for having said anything at all.
"Come on, Nate," he says, his voice a little gentler than before. "Let's sit down. Have a drink." He doesn't know whether or not to suggest they talk, because it's not in Marcus's nature to share his pain when something is bothering him and Nate has never struck him as the sort either. It might do them both some good to be able to talk about it, but he wouldn't know where to start and he wouldn't know what to say. How is he supposed to talk to the brother of the man he was sleeping with? Someone who'd taken the time to show him he didn't have to always be alone, even if Marcus was unable to reach out and take what was being offered.
He's not sure if he regrets that. He would have hurt Sam ultimately and he knows it, but if Sam was always going to disappear, perhaps that wouldn't have mattered. Maybe he should have just given it a shot.
no subject
Nate's not the sort to do anything stupid to himself, Marcus is sure of that. He's also not the sort to hurt a friend just because he's hurting, but as he steps into the apartment and hefts the beer, he still finds himself hoping Nate will put the gun down without needing to be encouraged to do so.
It might be Sam's, he realizes a little belatedly, and then feels like an arse for having said anything at all.
"Come on, Nate," he says, his voice a little gentler than before. "Let's sit down. Have a drink." He doesn't know whether or not to suggest they talk, because it's not in Marcus's nature to share his pain when something is bothering him and Nate has never struck him as the sort either. It might do them both some good to be able to talk about it, but he wouldn't know where to start and he wouldn't know what to say. How is he supposed to talk to the brother of the man he was sleeping with? Someone who'd taken the time to show him he didn't have to always be alone, even if Marcus was unable to reach out and take what was being offered.
He's not sure if he regrets that. He would have hurt Sam ultimately and he knows it, but if Sam was always going to disappear, perhaps that wouldn't have mattered. Maybe he should have just given it a shot.