Fandom: Silent Hill
Disclaimer: I do not own Silent Hill, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Notes: Spawned of my boredom. It's not as dirty as the stuff I usually do, not by any means. Forgive errors and what not. And nope, not interested in comments just intended to bash. Never have been, never will be.
~~ Silent Hill Ficlet ~~
Harry groaned, hearing the clatter of various kitchen objects hitting the floor. Really loudly, too. Damn. That'd be easy to hear from any part of the apartment, since it wasn't a big place. It was kind of weird, too. He didn't remember James being that clumsy. Though perhaps the blond man really was and he'd simply overridden or blocked the fact out, much as he'd done with so many others.
Harry lost his train of thought when he, just barely, caught the sound of a door opening from somewhere across the apartment. It was Heather's. There was no mistaking it, simply by the direction it had come from. He froze for a long moment, wishing to God that James would do the same, listening for the sound of any footsteps. There weren't any, which meant he could breath a sigh of relief.
Or...so he'd hoped.
Oh, god. Yeah, it was Heather. Honestly, of all the people in the world that bad luck could go after, it just had to pick him.
"Dad? ...Are you okay?"
"Oh, uh..." Damn it. Think. Why did it have to be so hard? "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little...accident..." Boy was that an understatement.
"Need any help?"
"No! ...You just, uh...go back to what you were doing. I've got it covered."
Now Harry was finally able to breathe a sigh of relief. But just to be safe, he listened ever so carefully for the sound of a door closing, praying his daughter really had just left the matter well enough alone. The soft click from the far side of the apartment confirmed that she had, in fact, gone back to her room. He was definitely glad for that, but still inwardly cursing James for his impatience. God, had he always been that impatient, too? He couldn't remember, must have blocked that out, as well.
But the most important matter remained that Heather had gone back to her room. She'd turned her music up, too, which meant Harry could relax just a little bit more. Because, God, the last thing he EVER wanted to do was have to explain to his daughter that, yes, he was having sex with another man. In their kitchen. Half against the counter, half against the refrigerator.
No, he didn't want Heather to see him in such a way.
No, he didn't want his daughter to know he'd been regularly having sex with another man.
He really didn't want her to know that he got off so much easier when James was fucking him, as opposed to solo masturbation to the typical male fantasies.
And, oh God, no...he didn't want his daughter to find out that he, Harry Mason, had come to enjoy it more than anything else in the world...