Not ten minutes later, Stan found himself riding on the back of Hannah, sat surprisingly comfortable on the two-up seat. He wore Bill's spare helmet and riding jacket, things he was very grateful for. His hands were wrapped around Bill's waist, and he leaned into him, as instructed.
"You'll m-m-m-make us-s-s do a wh-wuh-wheelie if you lean b-back," Bill had said.
"You just want me to hug you," Stan kidded.
"I'm n-n-not com-com-complaining about t-th-that," Bill returned with a smile.
They made their way through rush hour, riding patiently along with everyone else. The sky turned purple as they made it to the downtown area, where Bill had made reservations for a motel previously. Stan noted the single king-sized bed as they entered.
"So what're we gonna do in Vegas, Bill?" Stan asked, sitting on the bed.
"Th-there's a club called H-ha-Havana that I wanted t-t-to go to," Bill offered.
"Sounds good to me," Stan said, waiting for Bill to change out of his riding gear.
Bill's helmet clunked onto the dresser, "S-s-o, I couldn't help b-b-b-but notice the g-giant cross and 'God is g-great' painted on y-y-your shop d-door."
"Oh. Yeah. That'd be my dad's," Stan said, clearly uncomfortable.
"A-are you religious, S-s-s-Stan?" Bill asked, unzipping his heavy overcoat.
"My family is very Catholic, but it didn't get to me. I was too skeptical from the start, asked too many questions, and the dumb, non-answers I kept getting weren't satisfying. I keep my head down though and go through the motions. I don't need to stir up any more trouble with all them," Stan said, venom fading in and out of his voice.
Stan paused, looking at nothing in particular, and sighing heavily, "What about you, Bill?"
"Me? N-n-no. I guess I-I-I was, a l...long time ago," Bill said, eyes glazed over in sudden remembrance. They shared another moment of comfortable silence, both of their heads lost in the midst of family tension and history. Bill tossed his jacket over a chair before coming to sit down softly next to Stan.
"S-stan?" He started.
"Yeah?" Stan answered, looking over to Bill.
"Why haven't you mentioned my st-st-st-stutter?"
Stan smiled and looked down, "I don't think it's very important, is it Bill? I don't mind, and I'm sure you're tired of people bugging you about it; I figured you'd bring it up if you wanted to talk about it."
"You're r-r-really smart St-Stan," Bill said, smiling warmly at him, "But I d-do want to t-t-talk about it."
"Okay. I'll listen," Stan said.
"Back home, in D-D-D-D...D," Bill took a deep breath before continuing, "Retour à la maison à Derry, Derry!" He said, coming out of the phrase of French, "That's wuh-where I'm fr-fr-from. D-Derry. M-m-my family was Ch-Christian, but in the right way, i-i-f that makes se-sense. We went to s-services only once or tuh-twice a month, at the m-m-most. Our piety wasn't a big deal, and my parents even told me that i-if I wasn't c...compelled to believe, they'd understand. I got the st-st-st-stutter from a car accident. It also killed my dad, so we could never figure out if it was ph-ph-ph-physical or m-m-m-mental one. I was about seven; I-I-I've had it ever-r s-s-since. It's been pretty buh-bad recently, with all this tr-travel," He paused to rub his hair.
"No shit, Bill. And I'm sorry about your father," Stan said, placing a hand on Bill's shoulder.
"It duh-doesn't help that my m-m-mom married a shit guy as a coping m-m--mechanism. He was abusive, so I moved o-o-out right a...after I turned 18."
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Wayward (Stenbrough)
Fanfiction"What about you? You've been riding for awhile. What are you doing all the way out here?" "Th-that's a sss...secret," Bill said, smiling glumly. Stan made a point of looking to his left, and then to his right. "Well, you're in luck. There's so...
