Remnants of the Earth
AEDOLIS => Haviah => The Citadel => Topic started by: Rhi-Rhi on May 12, 2009, 04:42:08 pm
-
The passage of time had stopped registering. All there was was the distant beep of hospital equipment, the swish of scrubs as nurses bustled about, and sobbing at one end of the room. Opal, Roman's mother. Gabriel remembered the doctors calling her, but he didn't know when she'd arrived; he guessed sometime while he was in the bathroom washing himself clean of blood, which he wouldn't have thought to do had a nurse not made him. Common sense wasn't really making much sense at the moment.
Raley did it. It was Raley... Siren had told him. The dragon filled him in on everything as soon as Roman was behind closed doors and Gabriel was alone in the lobby, pacing back and forth, which he was doing again. His nerves were jumping and he just had to move, do something, but there was nothing he could do and he wasn't used to feeling so damned helpless. Raley shot him. Shot Cross and Liv, too. Cut off Liv's hand.
He paused before a wall of pamphlets and rifled through one about ovarian cancer just to do something with his hands, then shoved it back in with the influenza ones because he couldn't remember where he'd gotten it or what it even was. Fucking Raley.
Even anger felt superficial, forced. He tried to latch onto it, tried to stay pissed, but couldn't make it stick. He tried to focus on just what he'd do to Raley if he was allowed near him after all this, because that was something he'd be able to do and control, but the thought tapered off before it even began. He just couldn't focus, not on anything but what was going on in that hospital room, and he didn't even understand that. At one point he tried to listen in, feeding a thread of telepathy into the room, but it was filled with so much medical babble that he couldn't make heads or tails of anything but the emotions--which weren't good, and only made him feel sicker than he already felt.
After a while, he'd stopped trying and had resigned himself to pacing the room, comforting himself with one little fact: the medics were still working on him, and that meant he wasn't dead.
But gods...four bullets to the back, four exit wounds out the front. He'd stopped breathing. Last he saw, he still wasn't breathing, not on his own...and wow, go him, giving Roman the cold shoulder right before he gets fucking shot up. Go him, being stupid and mopey and distant for all those days because for once in his life he decided to let something like rank actually matter. Since when had that fucking stopped him? Since when had he let Roman get to him? He knew how he ticked. Why hadn't he tried to fix it?
Why hadn't he done a lot of things?
You know why.
Because he'd thought he had more time...
Gabriel shuddered, not just because the hospital was chilly and he was still shirtless, and scrubbed both hands through his hair, pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes for a second and took a slow breath as his throat constricted. Fuck...fuck...
Opal was still crying, loudly.
Gabriel drew another shuddering breath, careful and controlled so it didn't catch and turn into a sob, and let his arms drop back down to his sides, rolled his shoulders to loosen up the knot that had formed between them before squaring them. He pushed hair out of his eyes to give himself an excuse to wipe at them. Get a hold of yourself. That's her son in there. Fucking selfish, that's what he was being. He took another moment to compose himself, facing the wall of pamphlets until his eyes stopped stinging, then turned and crossed the room.
Sinking down into the chair next to hers, Gabriel looped an arm around Opal's shoulders, gave her a gentle one-armed hug, and then rubbed her back. "Hey, mom..." he said quietly, awkward for lack of knowing what to say. Roman's mother or not, he'd taken to calling her that over the years. When he was younger he'd done it just to irritate Roman, a sort of 'ha ha, see, your mom likes me' thing, but it had long since become genuine, and not just because she sent him cupcakes now and then.
"Hey...he's gonna be alright. Okay?" The words sounded hollow to his own ears: words you said because you were supposed to, because those were the generic, reassuring 'feel better' words you said in situations like this. Words you said to convince yourself that they were true as much as to comfort the other person. But what else was he supposed to say? He wanted to believe it, but he was better with hugs than saying things that might turn out to be lies.
The sound of a door opening got his attention, and he straightened up and twisted to look--then felt his stomach clench. August had stepped out and was coming towards them, and all the calm he'd been holding onto for Opal's sake started to slip away. No, no, they could do something for him. They could. Why the hell did he keep jumping to the worst conclusions? They had the best medical technology here. Doctors didn't come out just to deliver bad news. Calm down. It was Roman.
Something like that couldn't do him in...
He licked his lips and cleared his throat, heart thumping in his chest. "Uh...how is he...?" he asked, and gave Opal another little squeeze.
-
A sizable pile of tissues was growing larger by the minute on the small table next to Opal's chair. She blew her nose again, and then tossed that tissue onto the rest. Her mascara was running all down her face, she was sure. She pulled another tissue from her purse—there was a box of it nearby but hospital tissue was crap, just crap; they should spend the twenty cents more for something better goddamnit—and with it she dabbed at her eyes and cheeks. The tissue came away black.
"I'll bet he wasn't wearing his dragon tooth necklace." She shook a finger in the air, and her face screwed up again. Her baby...
"Even though I tell him...all the time. All the time. I'm wearing mine. I put it on every day and do you think I've ever been in an accident? Has one of those Edani terrorists ever struck a building I'm in? If something protects you, you do it." She shook her head. "I know it was them. I know it. You don't even have to say anything."
He couldn't, she knew. She didn't expect him too. He didn't need to. The Edani did this to her baby. Because the Edani were jealous of their peace and abundance, and the Pilots were so brave and put themselves between the terrorists and the people, and now they'd killed her baby, oh gods her only baby. What if they'd killed him, before he'd lived half his life, and what if she had to wake up tomorrow knowing she could never see him or hug him again...
She was crying again as August approached. He carried along a clipboard and tapped a pen against it's edge. He tended to fidget like that when he was in thought. As was often the case, he'd found himself appointed the unofficial liaison between the hospital staff and the Pilots, possibly because the Pilots had never intimidated him. Even now, with nurses and doctors rushing to save the Pilots and the citizens harmed by Scheherazade's rampage, he strode down the hall at an even pace and did not rush.
It wasn't like time was an issue for Rosales anymore.
The woman beside Pilot Tierney—Rosales's mother, he assumed—looked up at him as he neared. That was an awful look, one that gave him the power to destroy her world or save it. Families were so much scarier to deal with than Pilots.
"You can go in and see him now," he said, pointing back down the hallway from which he'd come, and he very nearly winced at the look of hope that flashed across her face. Someone else would have to explain to her that her son was brain dead and exactly what that meant.
She gathered up her rather enormous bright orange purse. What was she keeping in there, camping gear? "It's ridiculous, these tissues you provide at this hospital," she said in passing him. "This is a military hospital, you should provide better."
It was impressive how fast she managed to run down the hall in six-inch stilettos.
He wanted to turn to Tierney and say "I must see to this tissue situation immediately," and walk off, but he doubted it would be appreciated at this time. Since he never did know whether Pilots were reading his mind or not, he always opted to speak to them as he would to any other person. Tierney may have already known what he was about to say, but he needed an answer anyway.
"They couldn't operate on him. Were you aware that Pilot Rosales was taking large doses of several different brands of amphetamines without either the knowledge or consent of military doctors?"
-
Edani terrorists.
Gabriel didn't have the heart to correct her, to shatter her faith and tell her that the terrorists had been a little closer to home, so instead he said nothing. Opal was right; he didn't have to say anything. She was ranting enough for the both of them, and listening gave him something external to focus on.
He didn't want to be inside his own head right now.
Not that the minds of others were any better.
As August drew closer, Gabriel turned his attention on him instead and swallowed back a knot of anxiety and rubbed his clammy hands on his jeans. He wanted to know, and Gods he didn't want to know, either, but the anticipation was worse than peeling your own fingernails off so he shoved past the fear and lightly grazed along August's surface thoughts. Whatever August was about to tell Opal, or not tell her, he wanted the unfiltered truth and not just the surface. Besides, he was taking way too long.
Brain dead.
He caught that among the other mundane concerns and it took every ounce of self-control to keep the same expression, to not tense up or jerk out of his chair and head straight for that room. Roman? No, he had to be talking about some other patient. That wasn't Roman. It wasn't.
He rejected the idea as soon as he picked it up, because it was a mistake.
But Roman and Opal were the only people currently in August's thoughts--and August couldn't have sounded more apathetic. Time didn't matter anymore. Brain dead. There was a crisis going on all around him, and yet he was disinclined to hurry. Could he at least pretend to give two shits about anything? Even though Roman was brain dead? Despite struggling to keep his composure, the mask began to slip while Opal gathered up her things.
There was a reason he didn't go diving into peoples' minds all that often and this was it. You saw things about them that you didn't want to see.
By the time Opal was gone and August turned to him, Gabriel was ready to explode.
In fact, he did.
"What do you mean they couldn't operate on him? Why the fuck not?" he snapped, jerking to his feet and rounding on the doctor. At least he'd managed to hold out until Opal was out of the room. "You can do heart transplants but you can't do this?" Whatever 'this' was. He didn't know. Brain dead...it still wasn't registering.
"Oh! Right! I got it! It's because of the tissues, huh? That's what's so fucking important here. So what were they doing in there all that time if they couldn't operate? Debating brands? What are they--" His voice cracked and he cut off and drew a deep breath, scrubbing his hands through his hair, but it was really just an excuse to rub at his eyes. He wanted to be pissed off. He wanted yell and punch something, or someone, because that at least was something he could do, something he could control, and it would feel good as hell in the moment.
But even now it all felt forced; he couldn't keep it up. It took energy he didn't have.
Gabriel took another deep breath and let it out slowly.
"Fuck...is he really...? I mean...gods. I didn't know. Of course I didn't know, do you think I would've--no, you don't give a shit, I just...why can't they operate?"
Gabriel knew why, but he didn't want that to be the answer. Amphetamines. His throat tightened and he felt even sicker than before. He hadn't known. Roman was a workaholic, and he had just gotten used to his perpetually tired look, had teased him about it all the time, but that was just how he was. Chugging coffee, pulling all-nighters, working a stressful and demanding job...that's all Gabriel had assumed it was, not that he'd been popping speed. And here, all this time, he'd been nagging him about smoking...
You fucking asshole, Roman...
Why would he do that?
Gabriel shifted his weight and looked everywhere but at August, eyes down. "If they can't operate, then...then what? I mean, what can they do? He's gonna be okay, right?"
-
August leaned back and dearly would have liked to put himself at the opposite end of the hallway and just yelled the rest of the conversation at Pilot Tierney. He suspected he may be about to get slugged.
Come to think of it, it wouldn't have been the first time a Pilot laid into him. Huh. Maybe it would have done him some good to be intimidated once in awhile.
He endured the fury and the fear as he always did, waiting for it to subside before he tried to communicate again. Tierney's reaction was...human. No more and no less than that, all of his power and status and distinction as a Pilot stripped away by one fact: that medical science had hit its wall, that there came a point where even hope died. Everyone succumbed to that fact, and everyone found themselves, eventually, powerless before it.
When he felt more assured that physical violence was not immediately imminent, he pursed his lips and tapped his pen against the clipboard in his arms. He didn't give a shit? He'd never wished harder that he was more impulsive. It would have felt so damn good to let out his sudden surge of anger. But when Pilots were shooting Pilots, someone had to stay calm, and he had appointed himself to that position.
If by 'okay' you mean that he will never live and function disconnected from life support then yes!
August cleared his throat. What he actually said was little better. There was no good way to phrase this. "There was a brief opportunity when organ transplant might have done some good, but the standard prep medication reacted badly with...something he was taking and...well, the window has closed. There's currently no indication of brain activity, but of course further diagnostics will need to be run over the next few days. He's on persistent cardiopulmonary bypass and mechanical ventilation."
-
"So in other words he'll never live and function disconnected from life support." Gabriel's voice was flat and hollow even though those words--and thoughts--had hit him like a punch in the gut, complete with having to remember to breathe. And yet there was still that strange, distant feeling of processing everything from far away, like someone else was receiving this news instead of him.
It didn't feel real, and yet it was all too real, and he could feel his chest and shoulders tightening with budding panic.
"You can cut the medical jargon bullshit. Pilot, remember?" he said, tapping his own head. "You can just...say it. Say what it means. But you're thinking he's gonna just be on life support? Never come out of this? I mean, that can't be it. There has to be something you can do. People come out of comas all the time, right? Medical miracles? People they don't think will make it, make it. Right? And medicine's come a long way, and...I mean, Roman, he knew brains better than anyone so there's no way he can just be trapped in there and..."
He trailed off, not even able to fool himself into thinking he was making an ounce of sense right now. That wasn't what brain dead meant and he knew it, but he didn't want to think about what it did mean. That it meant dead. That it meant that your body was just going through the motions but no one was home...
Something snapped inside him and Gabriel turned away and swallowed hard, blinking rapidly. Fuck no, he was not losing it here. "I...I think I gotta go. I don't...I can't..." Deep breaths. He closed his eyes and tried to find that numb, distant place again, but it wasn't working and he didn't even know what he wanted, or where he even planned on going. Just...away. Somewhere.
But what he said instead was, "Can I see him?"
-
"All right..." If Pilot Tierney wanted it straight, with no sidestepping what August felt the be the truth, that that is what he would get.
"We can't declare him dead yet. Several diagnostics need to be run first. But...the human brain can only survive a few minutes—five or six—without oxygen before necrosis begins to cause permanent brain damage. Pilot Rosales was without oxygen for around fifteen minutes. We can't detect any brain activity and I don't believe that we will."
He paused, and wondered if he should go on. It was hard to say, and it must have been hell to hear. But it was in his head and his thoughts. It was out there for any Pilot to hear, and if he couldn't offer hope he could at least offer honesty.
"I don't believe that he will wake up. Comatose patients can and do come out of it but...with this level of brain damage it would be likely he would never be able to function independently again...be able to walk or speak or feed himself. And for a man like Pilot Rosales...I think that is no life at all."
There. That was all of it. August couldn't remember the last time he'd had to be so direct. He usually left this sort of thing to others, to people who were better at softening the blow, but that all became moot when dealing with someone who could read your thoughts anyway.
"Of course you can." He gestured down the hall, then added a quiet warning. "I don't want you to be surprised. He doesn't look like himself. He's hooked up to some machines and he's very pale."
-
He's saying they're gonna pull the plug.
That was what it all added up to. Too brain-damaged to function. A couple tests to run before they could declare him dead. Couldn't detect brain activity. Gabriel heard everything that August said, but that's what it all came down to, and that was the unspoken implication: that there was no hope, and that it would be pointless to keep his body alive, because even if he woke up, he'd be so far gone it'd be cruel and selfish.
And he knew Roman well enough that he could hear the truth in that statement.
He just didn't want to.
Gabriel didn't say anything after that. Swallowing past the tightness in his throat, he only nodded as August warned him about Roman's condition and turned away from him stiffly so he could head down the corridor. He didn't want to get angry at him again, and he felt if he stayed any longer, he would--because the man was a convenient outlet that just happened to be there, the bearer of bad news, and Gabriel didn't know who else he could lash out at.
Well. Except one person.
But he needed to do this first.
Opal was being ushered out of the room as Gabriel approached, and he stepped aside to let her pass and to stall a little. Funny how he'd had Roman's blood all over him and felt his heart stop, yet this was what he was scared to death of, this was the hard part. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and stepped inside the room.
It was kind of surreal, like looking at a stranger--but that was just all the IVs and the respirator and everything. He looked...dead. He was dead, if he were to believe August.
It was a moment before he could move. Sucking in a breath he'd forgotten to take, Gabriel crossed the room and dragged a chair over to Roman's bedside, settling down in it.
"Um...hey, Roman." He forced himself to look at him, then blinked and looked back down. "Fucking idiot. I told you. I mean...I didn't know but, what the fuck? Amphetamines? Why would you do that? They could have saved you."
His stomach clenched when he realized what he'd just said--could have--but he pushed past it.
"And now...fuck, you better still be there. You better not do this. I know they say you're...gone, but...I don't know. You can't be. Fucking Raley, seriously?" Gabriel felt his eyes starting to burn but blinked back the tears, eyelashes spiking together. He would kill that fucker if he got a hold of him, and he desperately hoped he'd get to because he'd make it last. He was still out there, right? It had been a bit since he'd heard anything--or he'd just been too out of it to listen.
"I'll put four bullets in him. But I just...I wanted to see you first. Just in case...I don't know. I guess I thought I'd have more time. Stupid, right? I mean...I sorta...always wanted to tell you I don't really hate you for candidacy. Maybe at first, but I really just like giving you a hard time. Like when I push your buttons. It's really just to get your attention...and it's just fun...and I guess I should apologize for all those pranks but you're funny when you lose it, and it was nice seeing you loosen up. I didn't really want to make your life miserable. I just liked hanging around you and it was the best way to get a response. You...kind of really changed my life. I just suck at...well, everything."
But once he'd started, he found it difficult to stop, knowing if he didn't get it all out now, he may never get the chance to--because how many times had he already lost that opportunity? How many times had he chickened out, or couldn't think of a good time or segue, or just hadn't thought about it because of course Roman would be there? Now it suddenly felt important, like something he had to do now because deep down inside, he knew Roman was gone, or going to be, even if he was refusing to process it. It didn't matter if Roman couldn't hear it, or if he wasn't even saying it out loud. If there was some higher power--and he had to believe there was, had to believe he'd be able to see his friends again after all this--then maybe they'd hear it.
"Like this. I don't even know what I'm trying to say. And you can't even hear it. Probably. But maybe it'll reach somewhere. And I just...I'm sorry. The silent treatment thing. It was stupid. I've never let you being mad at me stop me before, and...and I know I'll probably always regret it. And I hope you weren't still mad. And..." He took a deep breath.
"And I hope you knew I loved you. I never expected it back and like hell I'd ever tell you. But either way you're my friend, and...I hope you know that." He rubbed at his eyes, but it was a lost cause. His hand came back wet. "So you better stay. You better make it. I don't care what they say. I wanna tell you at least that much..."
-
August lingered for a moment, his train of thought totally derailed. He was maybe more exhausted than he was letting himself admit. He couldn't actually call to mind when he'd last slept without expending more mental power than he felt capable of just then.
No time for it now, either. Coffee might help, but he got all of two steps down the hallway before stopping dead. There was a man walking down the corridor toward him, and for a bewildering second he thought it was Pilot Rosales. But no, this man was older and not quite so built. Yet he looked so much like Roman, had the same face and the same midnight black hair. More than that though, it was his eyes. Anyone who had ever met Pilot Rosales would recognize those eyes, so blue they nearly luminesced.
There was no older brother in the family. He could only have been Roman's father, though August couldn't recall the name. He was in one hell of an expensive suit. He nodded to August as they passed each other.
Certain others did recognize him, and pointed him on to Roman's room. He was Aydan Rosales and he was a reflectivist. His mind was a blackout zone amidst all the other psychic chatter. He stopped in the doorway, eyes traveling over the room, Roman, Gabriel seated nearby. His expression did not alter. He spent only a few moments there before turning back the way he had come.
His voice filtered back from further down the hallway. "I don't see any good I can do here. Have someone call me when you decide to pull the plug."
-
Gabriel recognized the man. He'd met him before, briefly. Even if he hadn't, he would have had to be blind to miss the resemblance.
All this time, Gabriel had been holding his volatile temper in check as the other emotions, the vulnerability and fear and crushing sense of loss, pushed to the surface and trumped anger, if only by a little. It's what kept him from lashing out at August even though he'd been an easy target as the bearer of bad news, because anger was easy and so were its consequences. It's what kept him grounded, kept him on a taut, thin leash.
Aydan's comment was exactly what he needed for it to snap.
Gabriel had no real recollection of flying out of his chair, but he was very aware of the moment when his fist caught Aydan in the jaw. In a manner of seconds, Gabriel had the man by shirt and slammed him up against the wall, hard enough to knock the air out of him and break the framed medical diagram behind him.
"The fuck is wrong with you?" he snarled. "You're his fucking father!"
-
Aydan turned at the sound of pounding footsteps behind him. He had just enough time to realize it was Tierney and realize what was about to happen before the Pilot's fist caught his face. He was no kind of fighter. Even if it wouldn't have been the stupidest thing for an Aedolian citizen to do he still wouldn't have been able to raise his hand to a Pilot and do any good by it. Before he even had time to lament this, Tierney had him up against the wall, pain blossoming on his face and the alarming sensation of blood trickling down the back of his head.
Glass crunched as he shook his head a little and leveled a quiet glare at Tierney. Everyone in sight had come to a breathless standstill to watch. Aydan licked at a bit of blood trailing from his lip, blue eyes narrowed.
"Don't," he said, "go presuming my thoughts. And why the hell are you here, doing nothing, when you should be out there?" The media wasn't revealing anything, but he wasn't stupid. The buildings all around them had gone into lockdown, traffic was at a stand still, and police were streaming toward one of the big shopping centers flanking the Citadel. Something was happening out there.
-
Gabriel held Aydan a moment longer, staring him down, before he released him with another rough shove and turned away. "Get the fuck out."
It hurt to admit it, but he had a point. There was nothing more he could do here, and staying only deepened the sense of helplessness.
But Raley was still out there; Siren would have told him if he'd been caught. It was Raley he wanted to tear apart, not Aydan, worthless asshole or not, and that was something he could do. Taking a deep breath, pushing down the despair and focusing only on what needed to be done and what he wanted to do, Gabriel turned and headed down the hall, ignoring the stares he got and the flurry of activity he left behind as hospital staff rushed in to tend to Aydan and clean up the mess.
"Any news on Raley?"
-
Three weeks to the day after Roman had been shot, Aydan climbed out of the lavatory mirror in the room's attached bathroom. Secrets and treason aside, he was damn glad no one could see him trying to unfold his six-foot-three frame out of a foot and a half by two foot mirror. He used the sink as a step ladder and nearly toppled clear to the floor, only catching himself on the edge of the opposite wall.
The things I do for my family.
It was the middle of the night, the room empty and dark, silent save for the respirator's rush of air and the steady beep of the pump. Aydan leaned over Roman, letting his eyes adjust to the dark until he could make out the features of his son's face, the tubes and sensors and the respirator mask.
Aydan pulled out a small hand mirror from his pocket and unfolded it. He looked into it and called up Roman's reflection, the one he had just prior to the shooting. It was dumb luck that they hadn't passed him in front of a mirror while bringing him here. If they had, not even Aydan would have been able to help him. The Mirror could only call up the most recent reflection.
He held the mirror above Roman and imposed the reflection upon him. A cold sweat broke out on his temples. Let it go too far and Roman would heal completely. It would cause too much suspicion. Cut it off before it had reverted the brain damage and Roman would be lost forever. He only got one chance at this.
He flicked his eyes between Roman's face and the screen monitoring brain activity. The mirror began to crack. It made tiny tinking sounds in the stillness of the room. Roman's eyes fluttered open, then closed again.
All the sensory equipment was lighting up with brain and respiratory activity. Aydan snapped the mirror shut and slipped into the bathroom. He shut the door behind him. By the time they rushed in minutes later, he was already through the mirror and gone.
-
"He what?"
"You heard me," the flustered nurse said, looking none too pleased. "He's on the roof." She finished changing the sheets on the hospital bed and fluffed the clean pillow a bit more vigorously than was necessary, punching it into shape. "Nothing we can do about it. He wouldn't hear it."
There was an unspoken, 'you deal with it!' tone in the words. Which sounded about right. The man could be insufferably stubborn and stupid--and that was saying a lot, coming from Gabriel. He could see it now: Roman waking up, finding out he could walk, probably yelling at everyone and throwing rank around when challenged, and heading up to the roof in his ass-less hospital gown, because dammit, if the bullets hadn't killed him, guess he was determined to break his neck instead and go out in style. Ugh.
Letting out a groan, Gabriel closed his eyes and rubbed a hand over his face.
...At least he was feeling better?
"Which way?"
The nurse pointed the stairwell out to him, and Gabriel took it, a strange cocktail of worry, anger, excitement, and nerves brewing within him. It had been a little over three weeks since he'd been shot and only several days since his condition made that radical change--a medical miracle. Gabriel had visited him throughout it, even when there was no hope, and visited him when he'd woke up. But this would be the first time since then that Roman was functional--and hell, the first time he'd really even talked to him since that disaster before the shooting.
Now that Roman was awake, he could feel awkward again. By what had happened. By what he'd said even when Roman had no brain activity.
And yet he didn't care. He'd almost lost him completely, so those past fights could go fuck themselves in the ear.
He climbed up onto the roof and found Roman there--in jeans, at least, and nothing else. For a second, Gabriel stared, brain trying to wrap itself around the fact that he was alive, chest tight with relief and emotion and who knows what else. Awake and up, when his last memories had been of him either bleeding out or laying in bed looking like a corpse. He swallowed hard, shifted awkwardly, and tried to make himself speak.
Then his eyes landed on the cigarette.
No. Freakin'. Way.
"Roman!" Gabriel snapped, crossing the space between them and shooting the man a disapproving frown. Not the usual 'trying too hard to look stern and failing epically Gabriel frown' but a genuinely irritated-bordering-on-pissed-off one. Without waiting for a response, he snatched the cigarette away. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Are you outta your mind?"
-
Fuck.
Why did it have to be him? Gabriel kicked up a storm of emotion in him that he didn't have the energy to deal with. Too many people had too many issues to take up with him, but he could brush them off, push them out of his mind and find peace in weary apathy.
He wished so badly that he didn't care that Gabriel was here. That he could wedge that apathy between them and drive them both apart with it.
He met Gabriel's anger with silence. He understood it, but he didn't have the strength just then to meet it. He was only barely managing to sit up like this, back propped up against the wall of a partition separating the cooling system from the rest of the roof.
"Hey," he said. He pulled a lighter and the pack of cigarettes Bart had given him out of a pocket in his jeans. He had come back from the dead and looked it. Felt it, too. Lighting that next cigarette was a slow process of calling sore muscles into action and fumbling with the switch of the lighter. He'd caught himself in a mirror on the way up and knew just how bad he looked, hollow-faced and thin. He'd lost some twenty pounds over last three weeks, and his skin had a pallid cast to it.
"I have a metal heart now." He tapped his chest. "Imagine the jokes." When surgery had not proved a viable option, they'd gone for an experimental nanotech treatment, injecting him with millions of the microscopic robots so that they could build him a new heart. The old one was nearly completely gone, only shreds of it remaining.
-
Goddammit. It was hard to pick a fight with someone who wasn't fighting back, hard to shove against something when there was nothing to push against. And right now, he wanted to yell at Roman. He wanted to bicker and argue because he was pissed and terrified and relieved as all hell and he didn't even know how to express any that, and here the man was being stupid and risky when he'd just been given his life back on a silver platter.
But Gabriel didn't really know how to fight with someone who was already defeated. And Roman looked it. He looked awful--but he also looked alive.
With a frustrated sound, Gabriel sat down heavily next to him. "Yeah. And you're sure hell-bent on making it all...rusty. Clogged up with tar." So what if that's not how it worked? With another irritated noise, he reached over to grab for the cigarette pack.
"Would you stop that? Seriously? I already saw you dead once, thanks, so let's not try and hurry it along, alright?" he snapped, voice tight.
-
"Don't start with that—" Roman made a slow, halfhearted grab for the cigarettes, but his reflexes had gone to shit along with everything else. He felt...weak. And so fucking frail. And because of that he needed a goddamn cigarette.
He hadn't even looked at Gabriel yet, had instead fixed his gaze on some point in the distance, or a neutral place on Gabriel's chest. But as the first stirrings of real anger came awake inside him, he looked at him then. "Give them here."
-
"No. You shouldn't even be outta bed much less smoking. You're not gonna have a fucking relapse and undo all that progress just because--I don't even know! I don't know what's going through your head right now except you're so fucking stubborn!" Gabriel tossed the cigarettes away over his shoulder, heard them land and skitter across the roof.
He met Roman's eyes, then took a deep breath and looked back out over the distance, trying to calm down. He shouldn't be laying into Roman now. This shouldn't be the first thing he was saying to him after he'd been on his death bed for the last three weeks. He probably shouldn't get him upset, either, new heart and all. But Roman also shouldn't have been out here doing this.
Another deep breath. "You really freaked me out, okay? I thought you were dead."
-
"Ah, fuck, Gabriel." Roman sank his head into his hand. There went his cigarettes. Now he'd have to get up and just...fuck. The same power of will that had pulled him through candidate training drills when his limbs had felt like water and his head like a beehive now somehow got him back to his feet, along with the use of Gabriel's shoulder to pull himself up. Pain lanced up and down his spine and he had to rest a hand against the solid stability of the wall, lest the world wobble over and turn him upside down.
Tenuous to begin with, his anger dissipated like smoke in a wind. He couldn't hold onto it without Gabriel to instigate it. He felt drained of soul and self, like the truest part of him had never woken up after all. He could offer nothing of his own, could only reflect back what Gabriel gave him.
"That's my fault," he said, struggling a little for air. Standing up took about all he had to give. "I should have...prepared you for that. For loss. When you were a candidate. Because of what we do, the job we have. I should have prepared you for it."
-
Goddammit, again.
As soon as Roman got up, Gabriel was on his feet. Stupid man. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Was he gonna have to throw the fucking cigarettes off the roof? Or would Roman dive after them if he did? He shouldn't even be walking! He shouldn't be here, he--ugh. It wasn't working. Gabriel tried to keep up an angry internal dialogue, but it kept fizzling. It was painful to watch Roman like this, to see the obvious pain in the way he moved, and what he said took him off guard.
He stepped in beside him and took hold of his arm to help support him.
"You can't prepare someone for that," Gabriel muttered. "Not even you're that good." He glanced sideways at him, then looked ahead again, feeling awkward now with the fight drained out of him because without that, he couldn't ignore everything else. And he wanted to--some things more than others--and felt the nerves building just at acknowledging their existence.
"Look, it's not like...I never knew it could happen. I mean, Temple--" He cut off and swallowed to work moisture back into his mouth. No, no. He didn't need to go there now. He exhaled slowly.
"It's not like this stuff hasn't happened, and it's not like I never knew it could. I mean every mission we go on it's like--I know someone might not come back, y'know? But that doesn't mean...just...fuck, Roman. Do you think you mean that little to me?"
-
Temple. Yeah. He hadn't thought about his brother since waking, not until Gabriel brought him up. He had so many people clamoring for attention in his head. His mother, Raley, Bart, Scher. Gabriel.
When he'd hauled himself out of the hospital bed and insisted on dressing and getting out of there, they tried to stop him. He shouted and threw things, so they'd tried to help him instead, and that made it even worse, made him even more frantic to get away. If anyone else were here, if anyone else came through that door, he knew he would have to push himself off that wall, away from Gabriel, stand on his own. No help, no support.
But it was just them. It was Gabriel, and an immense gratitude came over him for that, for the chance to rest his weight on someone, his hand on Gabriel's shoulder and his head dropping to join it as he fought off vertigo. He wanted to lay back down, but he couldn't stand the thought of trapping himself in that room again, not yet.
He searched for an answer and couldn't find one. The question didn't seem to need one, and this conversation was getting more complicated than he could follow in this state. He wrapped an arm around Gabriel. "Sorry," he muttered. He didn't even know why he said it. Not for any one reason. For everything maybe. For this and for where they were now, on a rooftop hurling anger and hurt at each other.
-
Gabriel fell quiet after that, the fight draining out of him until all he could feel was Roman's weight against him, his head against his shoulder, his arm around him holding on for support. The anger was all dried up and he didn't try to summon it back, but with it gone there was nothing under which to hide his own exhaustion. He hadn't slept much at all since the shooting, plunging into busy work and just keeping distracted, and when he had, it was with pills. It was one thing to go on a mission where the people were faceless, the bad guys, where he could convince himself on some level that they weren't real.
It was another altogether to see one of his best friends shot and bleeding out right in front of him, shot by the very person that had hurt him.
With a low, frustrated sigh, Gabriel turned and slid his arms around Roman, pulling him against him in a tentative embrace; he didn't want to hurt him when he wasn't fully healed. After all that, fuck it. He didn't care. He didn't care about that stupid fight they'd had, that Roman had freaked out at him because he'd gotten too close. He needed the contact now, wanted it, and after he'd lost Roman entirely--well, couldn't really lose more than that, consequences be damned.
"Me too," he finally said. "I dunno why I let you get to me. I shouldn't have. You're a stupid, stubborn asshole sometimes and I know that. I know you, and it's part of you, and I like you, so I should've seen through it and done what I always do. I just thought I'd wrecked everything."
-
Roman lost himself for awhile. A few minutes maybe, he wasn't sure. When he came back he had to remind himself where he was. Gabriel, the rooftop. Right. Time and space were getting confused in his head. He was fading fast. Time to go back. Even now, barely able to stand on his own, it was difficult to admit that he needed to be back in bed, even silently to himself.
He drew back from Gabriel, still holding onto his shoulder for support. He paused. "You can never wreck anything with me."
He waved Gabriel away and went on his own to pick up the pack of cigarettes. He'd let Gabriel help him down the stairs but once they were in the hospital proper and eyes were on them he'd have to walk on his own again back to his room.
-
"Really?" It came as both a relief and a surprise. He'd been so sure that he'd damaged things, ruined what they had, somehow gone too far and made things weird. It was strange to think that sleeping in a chair together would be the thing to do it, considering all the boundary-pushing they'd done, but those others things had always been done in the name of jokes and one-upmanship.
Gabriel let out a breath. "Good. You never can, either, you know. Even when you're being a stubborn jerk," he added as Roman went to retrieve the cigarettes. Dammit, he knew he should have tossed them off the roof.
But for now, he held in the lecture. There was no sense in fighting while Roman was like this--but that didn't mean those cigarettes weren't going to 'disappear', either. Right now, he just felt...drained, but in a good way. Relieved. Beneath all the crazy, roiling emotions, he was just happy that Roman was okay, that he was alive--and he was doing a terrible job of expressing it, he realized with a pang of guilt.
Following after Roman, he offered him his shoulder again. "Ready to go back in?" he asked. "I'll keep you company 'til you pass out."
-
Never, he thought. They might drive each other away, piss each other off, say things they don't mean. Gabriel could do all kinds of stupid shit and Roman could take offense to any number of petty things, and none of it mattered at all. This mattered, the two of them here together. He had known that, he now thought, even before the shooting.
It took four bullet holes in his back and an artificial heart beating out an irregular rhythm in his chest before he had learned to say it.
The cigarettes went into his pocket after some fumbling. His hands had gotten a tremor in them, his legs, too. He was grateful for Gabriel's shoulder again. The stairs had nearly killed him a second time. There were three flights between the roof and the elevator.
"Yeah," he breathed. "Stay with me awhile."
-
Gabriel felt his throat tighten at those words and he nodded, for a moment not trusting himself to speak. They struck an unexpected chord in him and he had to swallow and look away for a second to regain his composure. It was just...Roman never asked for anything, had to be badgered into accepting company, and this...it made him seem both strangely vulnerable and--
It was just nice that he'd asked for him.
As Roman took his shoulder, he slipped his arm around his waist to hold him and was careful of the injured area. He'd tried to stop the blood pouring out of him; he knew all too well where that was.
"I visited daily," he finally said as they made their way down the steps, taking them one at a time. "And I'll stay as long as you want. I mean, if you want, I'll stay the night. Sleep in the chair. Y'know...be there. If you need anything, even if it's just another body in the room."
-
Roman nodded, unable to speak. It wasn't just because the simple act of getting himself down the stairs without faceplanting took most of his concentration. There was too much in his head for him to pluck one thought out and give it voice. He thought of Gabriel in that hospital room every day, and him oblivious, gone, and his stomach twisted up. It was irrational, and a result of his growing delirium, but he didn't want Gabriel leaving him now. Felt like he wouldn't see him again if he did.
Footsteps sounded from the stairs below, but it didn't register to Roman that someone was there until they entered his peripheral vision. He pulled away from Gabriel and stood up as straight as he could. He nearly let out a stream of curses. He did let them out in his head.
Aydan stood below them, grinning around a cigarette in his mouth.
"Roman." He plucked the cigarette out with two fingers and exhaled a cloud of smoke. He gave his son a good, long look. "Ya look great."
-
Roman wasn't the only one cursing.
Only Gabriel said them out loud.
He hadn't forgotten that moment in the hospital, what Aydan had said about his own son just moments after Gabriel received the news. It stayed with him and where he'd been indifferent about the man before, it had colored his perceptions of him from that moment on. He tensed, jaw clenching, and glared down at him. And right now, he was definitely not in the mood for bullshit. Especially not if this delay was going to have Roman being all stubborn and determined to stand on his own--and he couldn't hardly blame him in this case.
"You're in the way," he snapped. "Fucking move."
-
Roman snapped his head around to stare at Gabriel. Where had that come from? And could he get more of it?
Aydan answered the order with a smile and stepped aside. "Yes sir."
Roman took the steps slowly, leaning on the railing and trying to look like he wasn't. "What are you doing here?" It made little sense, his father's presence, and it raised his suspicions. They didn't see each other or speak to each other. Ever.
Aydan shrugged. "You came back from the dead. Seemed like the time for a visit." His eyes slid to Gabriel. "Good to see you again, Pilot Tierney."
-
As soon as Aydan moved, Gabriel continued down the steps and did his best to pretend the man wasn't there, focusing instead on Roman. He didn't move to help him and let him take the steps on his own, but he stuck beside him in case he stumbled. Or passed out.
"Huh, can't say the same!" Gabriel replied cheerfully as he made it to the bottom. "Are you done now? Visiting hours are over."
-
"And yet you're still here, aren't you?" Aydan said softly.
As he drew level with Aydan, Roman paused and looked down at the cigarette in his hand. He scowled. "You smoke?"
Aydan shrugged again and blew a smoke ring toward the ceiling. "Occasionally."
"You can't smoke in a hospital."
A wry smile, and Aydan put the cigarette out on the wall then flicked it down the void between the flights of stairs. He ascended the steps and as he passed Gabriel he leaned as close as he dared and said in a low, silken voice, "Thank you for your service."
-
"I meant for you," Gabriel answered, staring pointedly at Aydan.
If it had been anyone else at any other time, the following exchange would have been hilarious. Roman? Being a rules lawyer? Over a habit he shared? Hell, it wouldn't have surprised him if Roman had tried to smoke in the hospital to begin with and, deep inside, Gabriel was dying to call him on it.
He saved it away to rub in later.
Passing by Aydan, he wasn't going to pay him any mind, intent on getting Roman back--but when the man leaned in and spoke quietly to him, he tensed and felt a small shiver travel down his spine. It wasn't the words so much as the tone, leaving behind a gross, uncomfortable residue. What...the fuck was that?
As soon as Aydan was gone, Gabriel leaned closer to Roman, still tense. "You have one creepy-ass dad, y'know that?" he said as they continued down the hall toward his room. It was empty at the moment, so he moved a little closer and chanced slipping his hand around Roman's waist.
-
Aydan's smile didn't fade as he continued up past them out of sight. He climbed to the roof, mulling over the exchange. He had come to a conclusion down there.
He wanted to fuck Gabriel Tierney, and he wanted to do it while wearing his son's body.
[hr:35kijqqm][/hr:35kijqqm]
As soon as they were no longer in Aydan's line of sight, Roman slumped against Gabriel. He had to put his head down. He was about to pass out. Another minute of that and he would have hit the floor.
In spite of all that, he laughed. Creepy. Yeah, that was his father. That and so much more. And Gabriel—irreverent, insufferable, never-back-down Gabriel—had cursed him out, snapped at him, and shown him nothing but disrespect. Roman laughed and shook his head, lightheaded. "That was amazing. I love you."
-
What. What?
Gabriel's head snapped around to stare at Roman, the sour mood fading away as quickly as it had come and his chest tightening at the words. Did...he...just...what? For a moment, his mind blanked out and he struggled to get it working again, struggled to think rationally because Roman was tired and he was running on little sleep and no one was one-hundred percent here, Roman especially. Right. Aydan. That's what they were talking about.
"Oh. Heh. That's nothing. You shoulda seen the part where I punched him," he said, arm tightening around him in a one-armed hug. Shit. It wasn't working, heart going a little too fast. But clearly he was delirious. That was the only explanation. He didn't know what he was saying.
Why did he have to say that?
They were to the room by then and Gabriel steered them inside it. "No one gets to treat you like that."
-
One thing Roman never thought would be true—he was happy to see that bed again. He crawled into it on his stomach. A couple of the bullets hadn't exited. His back was more tore up than his front and he couldn't sleep on it.
"Stay," he muttered, pulling a pillow to him.
He could have sworn Gabriel said he'd punched Aydan, but that couldn't be. He must be hearing things.
-
As Roman climbed into bed, Gabriel pulled up a chair and slid into it. "You couldn't lose me if you tried, honeybear."
He was quiet for a moment, not sure if Roman wanted silence or needed to hear a voice. It didn't matter if Roman couldn't carry on a conversation; he didn't need to. Gabriel was good at running his mouth and he knew that sometimes just hearing words spoken by another person could be comfort enough. Enough to remind you that you weren't alone.
"So, uh...by the way...I'm sorry. For going all aggro on you," Gabriel said after some shifting around in the chair to try to get comfortable. It was impossible to do in these chairs--probably to encourage more people to go home--but he was tired enough himself that it hardly mattered. "That really wasn't the first thing I wanted to say to you. There was a lot of other stuff and just--I dunno. Of everything else, that was what came out and that wasn't what was supposed to and--"
And maybe he was being stupid. This wasn't the time and he knew it, with Roman barely hanging on--or maybe he was passed out already.
Maybe that's why he chose now, because he was a coward.
"And I guess...what I'm trying to say is--what I wanted to say, I mean..." Deep breath. He knew if he didn't say it now he never would, and then he'd come to regret it again, like he almost had this time. He might not get another chance. Things could happen anytime, any day, like it had that time. It didn't matter if it was never gonna happen--that was okay. But he just wanted him to know. "I missed you."
He brushed some hair back from Roman's temple and leaned in to replace his fingers with his lips. "And I love you, too."
-
"Hey," he snapped. His eyes were closed, his words slightly muffled. "What did I tell you about using WoW lingo in real life? I'll smack you."
He was drifting fast. He'd been awake now for nearly three hours. It was the longest stretch of time he'd managed to stay conscious thus far. If he'd been fully awake and healthy, able to stop himself, he would never have said what he said. He would never have had the thoughts to begin with. They would have been crushed beneath an infinite denial before even taking shape. He couldn't stop them now and was only half-aware of them, confusing them with dreams and memories. He was too far from wakefulness to speak, but one of them, one thought, communicated itself. It drifted up to Gabriel from somewhere between his conscious and subconscious.
"I think we knew."
-
"Yeah..." Gabriel said, brushing Roman's hair as he drifted away. "I think so, too."
[hr:2ops4pz9][/hr:2ops4pz9]
It had been a week since Roman had woken up. A week since he'd said--thought--the four words that had been haunting him ever since, four words that had been far more shocking than the previous three. Gabriel didn't bring it up again, though, because Roman didn't either. Roman didn't seem to remember anything they'd talked about which...he guessed he shouldn't have expected, anyway. Not when the man was weak and heavily medicated and could scarcely hold a conversation.
So Gabriel visited him daily, talked to him when he was awake, but kept the conversation light and about not much of anything--and tried to not let it bother him.
Deep down, though, he was just bursting to ask.
And terrified to do so. People said weird things when they were delusional, things they didn't mean; maybe Roman hadn't even been talking to him right then, or had been talking about something completely different? There were too many questions and explanations and possibilities and outcomes and if he thought about it too much he'd make himself sick--because most of them weren't good.
For now, though, his mind was occupied with other things. Like getting Roman home after he'd been discharged, a process in and of itself. Roman hadn't wanted the help, but Gabriel had insisted--which meant he'd taken charge whether Roman wanted it or not and saw to it that he got safely from the infirmary to his apartment.
And he did it all calmly.
Roman was wearing a blood pressure monitor and was under orders to, well...take it easy. If his blood pressure got too high, it could trigger cardiac arrest. So, since Gabriel did not want his heart to explode, he'd made an effort not to incite anything. Let Roman bitch! For once--and only once, because he didn't want him to die--Gabriel would be on his best behavior.
Opening the door to Roman's apartment, Gabriel stepped aside to let Roman in first. "Blank'll be happy to see you," he said as he stepped inside. "She's been all extra needy and everything. I think she's missed you."
-
"I can open a goddamn door!"
If Gabriel hadn't already been out of his way, Roman would have shouldered his way past him. Getting out of the hospital had been one long string of difficulties, each one testing his nerves to the last. Keeping that BP monitor from going off was a fucking inhuman feat.
It had started beeping right from the start, when August was giving him his orders. One month's forced leave. A thorough investigation by the auditors. Visits to a counselor three times a week. Physical therapy daily. Off of field work indefinitely. He couldn't remember ever being so angry.
He'd only been able to calm down when he though of just how close he'd come to demotion. A biting dread mixed with bitter shame ate at him from the inside whenever he thought of it.
Then came the trip back, with every fucking Pilot in the Citadel looking at him and knowing. Knowing he hadn't been able to do his job without popping speed. Gods.
Roman stormed into his apartment and threw his bag on the couch.
"And what am I supposed to do now?" He laughed, bitter, and spread his hands. "A month? What the hell am I supposed to do for a month"?
-
Closing the door behind them, Gabriel raised his eyebrows in surprise. "What? Hey, lots of stuff! Dude, you're on leave. This is an overdue vacation." A forced vacation, yes, under horrible circumstances, and Gabriel didn't know if Roman was even capable of relaxing or knew what the word meant. But he'd been trying to spin it in a positive light the whole way here.
"Now you can do everything you couldn't do 'cause you were chained to your desk. You know, read a book, play a game, catch up on movies, visit some friends..." He raised an eyebrow at Roman and grinned, nudging his arm lightly as he passed by him. "Buy some new clothes. C'mon, it's not forever. You'll be buried in paperwork in no time so enjoy the break while you can."
-
Roman stood there, breathing slightly hard. Not from the ranting so much as the walking. August hadn't been kidding. Even a regular-paced walk could wind him in a matter of minutes. He felt, for the first time in his life, frail.
He glared at Gabriel side-long. "I know what you're doing."
And he couldn't decide if it pissed him off even more or made it easier. Both, in a weird way. He hated that Gabriel was acting different around him. Fucking hated it. On the flipside of that, without Gabriel openly instigating him, he found it harder to maintain his anger...even if he wanted to.
He sat on the couch, but didn't sit back. Still couldn't put pressure on his back like that. He sat forward with his elbows on his knees and was quiet for awhile.
"Scher won't talk to me," he said finally. It was a like a tightened noose around his neck, choking him. Not a word since he'd woken up. Not even a reprimand. He hadn't said anything until now.
-
"I don't know what you're talking about," Gabriel answered as he headed into the kitchen.
He gave Roman a moment to himself, a moment to calm down and get settled on the couch, and spent the time rummaging around Roman's kitchen and pouring him a glass of iced tea. He'd picked it up the day before, even bought a lemon, and he stuck a slice of it on the rim. Then he took a deep breath to brace himself. No taking the bait. No baiting him. Don't take it personally. Roman was pissed at the world right now and all he could do was just...see him through it, no matter how he lashed out.
Or, y'know, he could explode his heart.
That taken care of, he returned, just in time to catch what Roman said, and that brought him to a stop.
"Really?" Gabriel repressed a wince. The cold shoulder hurt enough as it was, but from something you were bonded to? A creature that basically shared your mind, that constant presence you knew was always there...he couldn't really imagine. Siren was always there and he'd shared more with him than he had with most people; he knew him.
Losing him would be like losing a piece of himself.
"Well...she's probably just upset," he finally said, coming around to take a seat next to Roman and offering him the iced tea. "Maybe not even at you. That was a bad situation. I mean...what do dragons even feel when something like that happens to us?" He had a feeling that wasn't what the problem was, but he didn't want to upset Roman.
-
"Of course she's upset!!"
Roman stopped himself and took a deep breath. Rubbed his temples with his fingers. Every little thing was setting him off. Everything Gabriel said and did. Even a simple glass of iced tea. It all just made him angrier. He couldn't disconnect himself from the raging thought patterns repeating themselves in his head. Part of him didn't want to. Part of him just wanted to be pissed.
"I just...I can't believe..." He put his head in his hands. "I can't believe I let him shoot me in the back."
-
Gabriel winced, and his eyes flicked toward Roman's arm--the arm that was wearing the blood pressure monitor--as though expecting it to start beeping. Erk, well, that had gone over smoothly. Clearing his throat, he set the glass on the coffee table and looked back up at Roman.
"Bullshit. You didn't let him do anything," he said. "No one lets someone shoot them. That's stupid. The guy's a raging fucking psychopath and hell's too good for him." He frowned. "No one saw it coming."
-
Roman gave Gabriel a look. They both knew that wasn't true. They knew it so completely he didn't even feel the need to say it. He'd failed, no more or less than that. He'd failed before and would fail again. In the coming weeks he'd be able to distance himself from it, but right now...right now it was even more raw than the bullet holes in his back.
Among everything else he had to deal with, something he'd meant to do had totally slipped his mind. He pulled himself up off the couch—sighing—and tossed the cigarette pack into the trash. They'd remained forgotten in his jeans pocket until now.
-
That...was probably the last thing Gabriel expected.
Roman. Tossing away his cigarettes. Willingly. The very same cigarettes they'd argued over a week ago, that he'd tossed away only for him to hobble his way over to retrieve them, the bane of many a fight. The things he'd been complaining about for ages, given him countless lectures on, and hated with a fiery passion. And he just...just like that, throws them away.
Gabriel stared at the trash can. Then he stared up at Roman. He squinted.
"Who are you again?"
-
That was better. He grinned, relieved to have Gabriel teasing him again. It felt like home, and he hadn't felt that since he'd woken up.
In looking up, he met Gabriel's eyes and looked away quickly. He threw his hands up.
"Now what do I do?" he said for a second time. Every time he stopped to think he was overwhelmed by the weight of time upon him. He didn't know what to do with himself, and he had always known that. From the moment his psionics had manifested, he'd known exactly who he was and where he was going. It was paralyzing, this feeling of being lost. He was afraid to do anything lest it be the wrong thing.
-
Gabriel cracked a grin, unable to keep up the serious expression. Okay! So that was a good sign! Hopefully he could get a little more of that, keep his mind off of the darker thoughts.
Rising to his feet, he draped an arm lightly around Roman's shoulders. "Well, first, is there anything you've ever wanted to do? Wanted to go? I mean, there's a whole world outside your office. Second, gimme one sec. I gotta process this whole new smoke-free you thing," he said, then leaned in to sniff at Roman's hair. "Holy crap. You don't stink!"
-
Roman let his mind wander and it came back with...nothing. He had no answers to Gabriel's questions. He'd never thought about them before. He shook his head, coming up blank. He had never stopped working long enough to want anything outside of work.
"What—stop sniffing me! I didn't stink! You always exaggerated how much I smoked." He'd miss it. Hell, he wanted a cigarette right now. But that desire was nothing next to that image he had of Aydan, cigarette in hand. That image would keep him away from the things for the rest of his life. No mundane craving could overcome the timeless, immense loathing he held for that man.
-
"And you never noticed the smell 'cause you're used to it," Gabriel answered, patting Roman lightly on the cheek before releasing him. "I bet you'll notice once it gets all outta your system. That's what happened to my mom when she quit."
Looking at Roman thoughtfully, he tilted his head. Right now, Roman was obviously limited in what he could do; it was only a week since he'd come to and he was far from healed. So nothing too physical, nothing that would require a lot of walking until he built himself back up to that, nothing that would be jarring or straining. What he needed most of all was rest and time to heal and it would be Roman's nature to push himself when he shouldn't.
"Hmm...have you done much gaming?" Alright, he knew the answer to that one already but he figured he'd give it a shot. "I could bring over my system. You might like first person shooters! Or we could go catch a bite to eat if you feel up to it. I know a place that has a live band every night, it's pretty cool! Pretty close by, too. Or we could just get stuff delivered."
-
"Don't say that. That if you feel up to it crap. Shit, I already feel like an invalid." Could barely walk anywhere without having to stop and catch his breath. Had to watch how he bended and moved or the wounds would break open. On top of that, the meds had him alternating between exhaustion and jittery wakefulness.
Gabriel got a withering look as answer to that first question. The rest, he had to think over, standing there with a hand on his hip. "I guess," he sighed, "let's do the game."
It would keep his mind and his hands busy—he hoped. Failing that, it would give him something to complain about. "But not here. Let's go to your place. I'll be seeing enough of this apartment for the next month."
-
Ack. He shot Roman an apologetic look and gave himself a mental kick for slipping. Okay. Axing that from his vocab now, though he wasn't really sure how to ask. How to ask what would be too much or if he didn't feel well, though...maybe he should just trust him to tell him? Yeeeah. And Siren wore a tutu. "Alright, lemme fix that: if you want to. If you want to, we can."
Looked like Roman was going to be full of surprises this day, too. Throwing away his cigarettes and then agreeing to video games? Gabriel blinked at him, expression blank for a second, and then his face broke into a grin.
"Really? Sweet! I got a bunch you might like! Hah, I even bought one, just for the lawls, that's supposed to be a Pilot combat sim or something like that, right? It's fantastic," he said with a laugh, then prodded Roman's arm and headed for the door.
"You've never eye-rolled so hard. It's even got dragons. But right! Okay! Let's roll, cupcake."
-
"Better. A little." They both still knew what it meant but this way they could both pretend Gabriel wasn't thinking of his physical condition.
Which, he realized abruptly, he didn't mind. He would have thought he did but...it was all right. He didn't want to hear it but he didn't mind it, Gabriel worrying about him.
"Hey hey hey." Ugh. He knew what that grin meant. Gabriel was getting all excited thinking he'd suck him into his gaming world. "This is only because I've got fuck all else to do. That's it."
He followed Gabriel to the door. "After you, Princess."
It felt like before, like it had always been. Calling each other names like that.
-
"Right, right, of course," Gabriel said, holding up his hands in a pacifying gesture. "That's all. That's the only reason. Roger." But he was still grinning and dammit, he was going to be excited about this and there was nothing Roman could do about it. Maybe Roman would like it, maybe not. But either way it was time spent together and...and he liked that. There wasn't enough of that.
He didn't like the circumstances and didn't like seeing Roman like this, frustrated and upset and in pain, but he was trying. Hopefully he could at least make this easier for him and not the worst month of his life, ease the burden a little, keep him in better spirits. Maybe he just needed to be kept distracted and, well...when he wanted to talk, if he wanted to talk, he hoped he could be there for Roman just as Roman had been there for him through so much of his life.
Sticking his tongue out at Roman, he headed out the door. "Oh, how very gentlemanly of you. Now hurry up, babydoll," he said, and started down the hall for the elevator, jabbing the button. Ah, elevator. The memories.
-
"Don't rush me, cupcake, I'm injured."
He was beginning to think of all kinds of ways to use his sorry physical state to mess with Gabriel. So that was one good thing amidst all the crap.
Out in the hall, Roman stuffed his hands in his pockets and followed Gabriel, silent and tense. Hidden away in his own apartment he could try to forget about everything, or at least push it off to a corner of his mind. Here, he had to deal with people looking at him, thinking about him. He caught whispers of their thoughts until he cut himself off, pulled in close so he couldn't hear anything but the voice in his own head.
Once in the elevator, he realized he'd been holding a breath and let it out.
-
As the elevator took them down to his floor, Gabriel shot Roman a look. He really wanted to ask how he was--but not only was the question stupid, but he knew Roman would hate it. They'd just had that talk, after all, but dammit if he couldn't be worried. A lot of shit had gone down and it hadn't all happened in the lead rooms.
But if he was anything like him, the last thing he probably wanted was to dwell on it when it was still fresh.
The elevator stopped, doors sliding open, and Gabriel reached out and ruffled Roman's hair as he passed him by. "C'mon, apple blossom, and don't give me that 'I'm injured' crap, either. First it's 'bitch, bitch, bitch I can do it myself, rawr', and now you're wounded. Nuh-uh."
But he stuck close by anyway. His apartment was just down the hall, but he wasn't going to take off without him.
-
After several weeks in the hospital his hair was even shaggier than usual. It was downright long. He didn't try to avoid Gabriel like he might have done before, just shook his head, a wry smile on his face. On the surface, it was all the same as it always had been. Beneath the veneer, he didn't know what they thought they were doing.
He broke out suddenly into a grin. "There she is."
Blank leaped out of the automatic cat door that lead into Gabriel's apartment. She ran down the hall to Roman, mewing. He leaned down so she could jump up on his shoulders.
It was good to see her. His memories of those first few days after he woke up were hazy, but he remembered one of the first things he'd said had been to ask who was taking care of his cat.
-
As Blank came running, Gabriel grinned and watched the reunion in silence for a few moments before he opened up his apartment. Too cute, how much Roman loved that cat. He only bit his tongue so as not to ruin the moment.
"Toldja she's missed you," he said with a laugh. "Oh, uh, hope you don't mind, I kinda ruined her. Fed her lotsa Meaty Meals instead of that gross kibble crap."
The inside of Gabriel's apartment hadn't changed much except for the addition of a litter box in the bathroom, cat dishes in the kitchen, and several catnip mouses and feather toys scattered on the living room floor. "I made her work it off, though."
-
Blank started purring and rubbing her head against his face. She didn't know or care where he'd been or how he might have changed or any of that shit. She was just glad to have him, and he was glad to have her.
"Did you actually scoop kitty litter? I would have paid to see that."
His hands were shaking, his legs wavery. Too much walking in too short a time. He sank down onto Gabriel's couch and repressed a sigh. It was such a relief just to sit. He hated this body around him. It didn't feel like his own.
-
Gabriel made a face and plopped down onto the couch next to Roman, repressing a shudder--which probably answered his question well enough. Oh yeah. There had been much scooping. He hadn't realized cats crapped that much! Or how freakin' intense it smelled, prompting him to get the scented kind after day one.
He shot Roman a dry look. "Yeeep. And the one day I didn't, she pooped in my sink."
-
"That's my girl." He couldn't wait for this day to be over, when his mind could find refuge in the thoughtless automation of a normal end-of-day routine. Mostly normal. He'd be able to feed Blank, cook something, clean up afterward. This was too difficult, this pretending that everything was okay and the same.
-
"Hey!" Gabriel reached over and lightly flicked Roman's ear. "Don't encourage that behavior! That's so unladylike! And gross!"
With an exaggerated huff, he grabbed the remote and flipped on the TV. "You'd be singing a different song if it were your sink."
-
"It wouldn't be my sink, because I don't procrastinate like you do."
-
Gabriel tossed a wireless controller onto the couch next to Roman. "Hey, hey! I didn't know it needed to be changed that frequently! I've never had a cat. How I was supposed to know?"
-
The controller was like some alien device, nonsensical and incomprehensible. Buttons with different symbols and numbers that should have been recognizable but that context reduced to so much gibberish. "The box comes with instructions. But there is reading involved in that."
-
Gabriel blinked blankly at Roman. "Instructions? For a bunch of gravel? That's just ridiculous." Then he paused and gave Roman an odd look as he started up the game system. "Wait, you mean you actually read instructions?"
-
"Well apparently you needed instructions because she crapped in your sink."
-
"I--" Gabriel opened his mouth and raised a finger but no words came out. He closed his mouth and frowned at the TV, selecting a game. "Well, still. She was a naughty kitty and she didn't get any catnip that day and only chicks read instructions. So there."
He stuck his tongue out at Roman--and Blank--and then looked back to the TV, where the character selection menu had come up. "Pick your character!"
-
Roman raised his eyebrow, and while Gabriel was fiddling with the game he sent a suggestion to Blank. He'd been communicating with her so long it was nearly as easy as speaking in telepathy to another person.
Blank leaped down and disappeared down the hallway, on her way to take a dump in Gabriel's sink again.
Roman had been in the hospital for weeks. He needed a bit of fun, and Gabriel deserved it for indirectly calling him a chick.
"Pick my—what's the difference? How am I supposed to pick?"
-
"Use your joystick," Gabriel said, scooting closer until they were almost touching and leaning over to show him how to work it. He scrolled over the characters.
"See? They all have different weapons and stuff, and when you scroll over them, it'll tell you what they have. Like Bruno has a M16 and grenades and pyrokinesis and a grenade launcher and Xavier has uzis and electrokinesis and so on. And like it also shows their stats, like Gem's faster but has less strength and thus has a smaller inventory while Max is slower but has a bigger inventory. Since you're a newb, I'd take Helix, since he's more balanced so he'll be easier for ya.
"Then when you're done, hit X. It's this button," he said, pointing.
There. He knew Roman was kind of electronically challenged, but it was an easy game and he'd broken it down as simply as he could. He should be able to get through at least this part fine.
-
Roman could feel his eyes starting to glaze over already. He flicked the cursor through a few random characters and finally just stopped on Helix. He didn't care which one he used so he'd go with Gabriel's suggestion. It was all the same to him, and all that mattered was that it distracted him for awhile.
"So the X button is the one with the X on it? Are you sure? Are we a hundred percent it's not the O button?"
-
"Of course it's not the O button, you big silly!" Gabriel said with a laugh, giving Roman another playful hair ruffle. "That's why it has an X. Duh."
He quickly selected his own character and started the game, the screen loading to reveal a post-apocalyptic looking setting in a decrepit, crumbling city.
-
I am going to break this controller in half. Possibly he would break it over Gabriel's head. He could practically see it happening already. He could not have designed a scenario more likely to get on his last nerve.
He shook his hair back into place. The scene that greeted him on the television had him squinting at the screen trying to make sense of it. The environment in the game was mostly a confusing jumble of gray and brown textures.
"Where am I supposed to be looking?" The screen had split into two parts and he assumed one was for him and one was for Gabriel. Roman pushed a button—the X button, the only one with which he was familiar—and the a grenade lit up the bottom of the screen.
-
"Whoa, okay, hold up!"
Reaching over, he grabbed the controller away from Roman and ran his character forward several paces and around a corner just in time to avoid the grenade's explosion. When it was safe, he handed it back. "Okay! Now that you're not gonna die, you're on the bottom," he said with a wink. "Now stop pressing buttons for a sec." With that said, he launched into a quick explanation of the basic buttons--and how to move.
"And you gotta be careful because there's friendly fire and you can kill yourself with your own explosions. Think missions here. All the same rules apply, just with less reality and you basically just shoot everything except me and you should start moving now 'cause you're getting shot at."
-
"Hey! I was doing fine. I found the grenade."
Here they went again with the explanations. Roman tuned him out. Pushing buttons was the only way to learn how to play! He just wanted to see what they all did and who cared if something got blown up in the doing? It was just a game!
"Yeah, yeah. Oh—whoa, I am? Oh! Uh..." Roman jabbed the joystick and the image on the bottom of the screen moved forward but got hung up in a corner. He started button mashing, and the screen started flashing red around the edges. "What do I do, it won't move?!"
-
"Yeah! you're doing great," Gabriel said, and it was an effort not to burst out laughing. Roman was so competent, cool, and badass at everything and it was always nice to just see him being, well...
A hopeless dork.
"Now, uh, honeybear, you wanna press down on the joystick before you die, 'cause red means dying and--oh, you're dead. Okay then! So next time, down means backing up." He gave Roman a reassuring clap on the shoulder. "You almost got it though. You found the enemies!"
-
Gods, Roman hated electronics. Hated. And he knew that. Why was he putting himself in a position to smash things?
"I was pressing down! I pressed it! It wasn't doing anything! I think it's just broken." Why did he always get the broken ones? Damned, shitty, unreliable pieces of crap, all of it.
-
"You...were pressing the wrong down..." Gabriel said slowly, and leaned over to point to the joystick. "Use the joystick, not the arrows. It's not broken, dork. You're just doing it wrong. See..."
He ran his own character around the screen and came under fire abruptly, so he had to duck behind some steel barrels, and a sudden thought struck him as he did, as the bullets flew--on second thought, was this the best game to be playing now when Roman just got out after being, uh...shot? Then again, Roman wouldn't want to be patronized, either. Would he even say something if it bothered him? Maybe it was a stupid worry, considering it was their job and it had prepared them for this and more and...
...And that just brought him right back around in a giant loop to all the other issues that were still floating around in his head. Now probably wasn't a good time. Now was probably a downright terrible time. But...what would be a good time with an issue like this? It was eating at him more and more each day and felt about a hundred times worse with Roman in the room with him, with him juggling between trying to cheer Roman up (wasn't sure how well that was working) and trying to fight down the nervous jitters that came whenever his mind brushed the other topic.
It was stupid, it was ridiculous, he'd been delirious, and there were way more important things to deal with. But...
"Sooo..." he started to say, making his way over to Roman's character to fight some goons off of him. "How much do you remember?" He paused and quickly added, "I mean, if you don't mind me asking."
-
"I did! I pressed that one, I pressed all of them!" He didn't get how he could do exactly what Gabriel was doing and the thing would not work the same way. "What is it doing now, what is this?"
There were just...things everywhere, characters moving, people firing at him he supposed because the red was flashing around the screen again. He found a button that made the gun fire and pressed it over and over again. He thought he killed something but who the hell knew. That one button was giving him some success so he stuck with it, right up until an empty clicking sounded. Ran out of bullets he supposed.
"Is that you?" Gabriel was there by then, so he threw the controller down and crossed his arm. Let Gabriel deal with that shit.
"I was already debriefed fifty fucking times. Read the reports if you're so damn curious." The frustration of the game spilled over suddenly into anger, and he took himself away from the TV, the living room, Gabriel, and into the kitchen. "I'm getting a drink."
-
Oooh yeah, bad timing.
Gabriel winced as Roman threw down the controller--ack, those were not built for that!--and again when Roman retreated to the kitchen.
That...had gone over real well. Smooth going, Gabe. Heart pounding, suddenly gripped by nervousness, he stared at the TV but didn't really see it as his mind raced, caught in a dilemma. He should let it go. This was super terribad timing and that was saying a lot considering his habit of having cosmically horrible timing. Roman didn't need the stress, either. Everything was too raw so he needed to back the hell off of him--and probably pick another game or something completely different since this was just gonna set his BP monitor off and--
"That's not really what I'm talking about," he said before he could stop himself.
He'd already committed the second he'd started.
-
Roman didn't get a drink. He leaned his hips back against the refrigerator and stood there rubbing his forehead.
"Yeah?" he said, distracted, not really following anything Gabriel said. He didn't know how to get over anger without giving in to it. Without letting it burn out. Before the shooting, he would have cursed and yelled, gotten himself into the gym and beat the hell out of a punching bag. Now he had to cope using mechanisms alien to him.
His cell beeped at him. He had to go take some things, a confetti of pills, but he didn't move.
-
"Uh...yeah."
Gabriel stared ahead at the TV screen, hands tightening on his controller. "I was more wondering about the stuff after that. Like fast forward to the part where I visited you and, er, I kinda maybe said some stuff, and you kinda said some stuff back, and I was wondering if you, y'know...maybe remembered any of that. I mean, you were pretty doped up but, uh...I just wanted to say I still mean it."
Whoo, go him! Way to cut straight to the heart of the matter. He died a little on the inside even as the words left his mouth.
-
Roman stared straight ahead. Not at Gabriel, not at anything really. In his mind was an expansive and spiteful nothing. He couldn't face this.
He ran away. Without a word and without looking at anything he left the apartment. He wasn't able to think clearly again until he was out in the hallway and saw the elevators at the end of it, waiting to get him away from there.
-
It felt like he'd swallowed lead. Roman left without a word and a wave of panic crashed over him. He knew. He remembered.
He wasn't happy about it.
For a moment, Gabriel was left staring at the TV, mouth dry and heart pounding. That...was about as bad of a reaction as he could have gotten. In fact, he'd say that was probably the worst reaction he could have gotten. Silence was worse than an outright rejection; he could have handled rejection. He expected rejection. The silence, that Roman hadn't even looked at him, was far more terrifying.
He'd wrecked everything.
But since when did he just let things sit? After a few more frozen seconds, he got to his feet.
"Hey, c'mon, wait." It didn't take long to catch up to Roman, though he didn't try to stop him. Didn't reach out to touch him or block him, just followed along behind him. "I'm sorry. I didn't wanna make things weird and--I don't expect anything, right? I just...I figured you should know, after everything, and--and it's still the same. I mean, us. Uh, not us us, not capital U 'us', just...regular us? I'm fine with that."
Shit, this was not coming out right.
-
Roman kept walking while Gabriel talked. He didn't rush, didn't try to get away or stop Gabe from following him—he just kept walking, losing more of his calm with every word until it finally broke.
"Gods, can't you...can you shut up. Can you just—" He shook his head and jabbed at the elevator button, but there was no waiting. It was right there, and he slipped inside and paced in the little space. He was struggling for oxygen again, from walking and from the agitation.
-
Gabriel stepped half inside the elevator, just enough to hold the doors open. "I could. Probably should, but--can we just--" He took a deep breath, struggling to fight down panic.
"Can I walk you to your place, at least?"
-
"Fine." More pacing, back and forth in the small space. "Yeah."
He leaned his hands back on the shallow rail that ran around the elevator at waist height. He closed his eyes—his head, his shoulders, all of him weighed down with weariness. The artificial heart pumped away in his chest, irregular, out of sync with the rest of him. He felt he was dying in a body not his own.
-
Okay. That was good. So he didn't hate him. Maybe it was a little extreme, but hey, having someone flee after you basically confessed, ouch. Relaxing slightly, Gabriel stepped into the elevator and the doors slid shut behind them.
The elevator lurched into motion and Gabriel leaned back on the railing across from Roman. "Sorry. I didn't mean to freak you out."
-
"Gabriel, are you still talking." He was able to look at him at last, with a little bit of anger, a little bit of challenge. He wanted things to be the way they were before, but that was impossible now, wasn't it?
-
"Right." He needed to shut up while he was ahead. Good plan! Just shut up, don't talk about it, and forget it happened. Here was his answer. Besides, it wasn't good to upset him when he was like this. He took another deep breath and focused on the floor.
It lasted for all of a couple seconds. This wasn't working.
"Alright. I just need to know. Just one thing? Then I'll shut up, I'll drop it. What you said...it wasn't true. I mean, meds, you were in a bad place, I get it, anything looks good when you're delirious."
-
Just as he was thinking, Thank the gods, he's given up, Gabriel started in again. Why should he expected anything else? This was Gabriel. Of course he wouldn't quit.
A stricken look flashed across Roman's face before he turned away. "I can't, this—" He laughed, short and humorless. He rubbed his eyes. "I can't...do this. Right now. What do you want me to say?" The right now was a diversion, a ploy. A way to deflect Gabriel. He didn't think he would ever be ready for this.
He couldn't lie, and he couldn't tell the truth.
-
Gabriel shook his head, giving Roman a helpless look. "I dunno."
He wasn't going to tell him what he wanted him to say, because he didn't want him to say that unless he meant it. And truth be told, he didn't even know where to go from there if he did. It wasn't like he knew what the hell he was even doing right now. There was no manual for this, and he didn't read instruction manuals to begin with. All he knew was he was on shaky ground and that something had changed between them the moment he'd opened his mouth, inexplicably, and he didn't know if it was for better or for worse.
And Roman's reaction was only freaking him out more. He didn't know what he expected--maybe a solid answer one way or the other? He hadn't really thought it out much further than that. But running away from him? Trying to get away? That hadn't been on the list.
"I don't expect anything. Roman, you can say no. I just...wanted to know if what you said back then was true." He scrubbed a hand through his hair, nervously, out of his league and not really knowing how to make this better but unable to stop what he'd set into motion. "I said a lot of stuff. I meant it. You almost died and I thought you should know. But I don't--it's okay if you don't...I mean, I never thought it'd happen, so...you know?"
The elevator came to a halt then, doors sliding open.
-
Something was dying in Roman, and rising up into something new. The transformation was an agony, as such transitions always were. He fought against it but there was no going back. You could never go back.
He kept shaking his head as Gabriel spoke on, and when the elevator reached his floor he held the doors open with one hand.
"Don't follow me." He looked over his shoulder. "I'm serious. Don't." He had been surrounded by people in the hospital, all the time, and even with just Gabriel here he still felt crowded. He hadn't been truly alone in weeks.
He broke while he was walking away. He turned around, walked backward for a few steps. "I did mean it, okay?" Just as the doors began to slide shut.
They could never go back.
-
Gabriel stared at the closed elevator doors. He made no move to follow Roman. His insistence that he didn't was enough--it sent a fresh jolt of panic through him, made him think he'd gone way too far--but then Roman went and dropped that last bomb.
He'd gotten his answer.
Now he had no idea what to do with it.
It was only then that he realized he felt all shaky with a mixture of nerves and fear and excitement because freakin' gods what just happened? And what now? He'd never gotten so many mixed signals in his life. He meant it, but he was getting the hell out. Then again, what the hell was he expecting? It was Roman. And spilling his heart had been one hell of a lot easier when he was badly sleep deprived and high on stress and low on functioning mental faculties. If it wasn't Roman, he'd be the one fleeing as soon as what he'd said and done sank in.
It started to on the elevator ride down.
Roman wasn't the only one that needed time to process it. Sure, Gabriel had been the one pushing for an answer, but now that he had it, and with Roman giving no feedback, shit if he knew what to do with it.
It didn't even seem possible. So Roman...liked him? Since when? He knew when his crush had started, kind of. It took a while to realize that's what it was, and even longer to realize it was more than that, and then began the process of squashing it because what was wrong with him? The guy was twelve years older, presumably straight (until Bart dropped that bomb), his former mentor, knew more about him than he knew about himself, and...was pretty much everything he wasn't. Had his shit together (well, he'd thought that until the drug thing), mature, had relationship experience (okay, so he'd only heard about the player rep, but he assumed), had a prestigious career, war hero. He could have anyone. He'd want someone more like that, someone classy or something. Not an awkward, prudish, geeky dude, over a decade younger that pushed every button he had just to get his attention. He wouldn't want all that.
He'd convinced himself of that. It was okay. It wasn't gonna happen and he'd accepted that and he was fine with that. He loved Roman, sure. But he could do that as a friend. But now, after everything, where did that leave them?
A couple days went by and nothing. One of them needed to bend first, and Gabriel knew it wouldn't be Roman. Why should he expect that? On top of everything, he'd just gotten out of the damned hospital, so go him and adding to his stress.
That left him.
The elevator reached Roman's level and Gabriel took a deep breath as the doors slid open. He didn't even know if Roman was in right now but he couldn't bring himself to actually call him, either. Too easy to chicken out and hang up, couldn't really do that if you were face to face, and some small part of him hoped he wasn't home. He wasn't good with this stuff. Haaah, who was he fooling, he'd never been in this position before.
He took a deep breath just before he reached Roman's door, let it out slowly, and knocked--and simultaneously hoped he'd be home and hoped he wouldn't.
-
The last couple of days were fair to Roman. Not kind, but fair. He saw only his physical therapists and found some equilibrium in the solitude. He even found a way to keep busy. Not a way that would last, but until he could stand to socialize again it was something.
He buzzed Gabriel in with his elbow, because his hands were covered in egg. He washed them off and went back to the dough. This would be his sixth or so batch of cookies, each one of a different kind. A few pies, some cakes and brownies, and those five plates of cookies sat here and there around the apartment, and each one had a sticky note with a name on it.
"Oh good. I was just about to call you." He pointed a spoon covered in cookie dough at a pile of plates with Gabriel's name all over them. "You need to get that shit outta my apartment."
-
Gabriel stepped inside cautiously, prepared for anything--except what he actually got. Roman, baking, and in a...surprisingly okay mood? He blinked, shut the door behind him, and headed toward the kitchen, a little slowly. His nerves were on edge as he'd been all fired up for, he didn't even know, anger or something, and instead got...this. No complaints there! Except he had a million different things he'd planned on saying for a million different scenarios and approaches and this? This wasn't one of them.
This was so...normal? So normal after what had just gone down that it felt surreal like maybe he'd just made up that whole thing.
"Whoaaa...someone's sure been busy," he said, staring at all the plates piled around--and the group with his name on it. He laughed, lightly, a little forced. "Man, it's gonna be all your fault when I can't fit into my flight suit."
Just act natural. "Sooo..." he said. "Uh, you need any help back there or anything? I'm a good spoon-licker!"
-
Roman clanged the cookie sheet down on the countertop. It made a gritty sound—sugar and flour dusted the counter tops and he hadn't bothered yet to clean it up. The cookies went on in irregular shapes and straight rows. The kitchen was a mess, and that pissed him off. Dishes piled in the sink that he couldn't wash because he was baking about five different things at a time.
"That's so helpful," he said. His voice was neutral. Even he couldn't read it, and he'd said it. He held the cookie dough spoon out to Gabriel. "Go nuts."
-
"I live to make your life easier," Gabriel said, grabbing the spoon, but he didn't do anything with it. Instead, he found himself just staring at it. Another time, and dammit, he would have been all over that but right now he found he was just going through the motions. He said that because that's what he did, but right then it was the farthest thing from how he felt. His stomach was a mess of tight, fluttering nerves and he couldn't have eaten anything if he'd tried right then, not even a little dough.
Roman was acting so normal it had thrown him completely off--and, once again, it had sprinkled seeds of doubt into his brain.
Part of him wanted to just...go with it. Just stop pushing and go with it. The chicken part of him wanted that. It was the easy, less freakin' scary route, and Roman was not helping and he sort of felt like he was going crazy since he was apparently the only one who wasn't resetting. Maybe...
"Why do you keep running?" he blurted, forcing the words out before he could lose his nerve. Not that he felt very brave right then--needing to know just outweighed the nervousness. He'd hadn't come here to...lick spoons. He'd come here to talk. It would be so easy to just do what Roman was doing.
But he'd never been very good at that.
-
Roman set his jaw and scowled at those cookies like they were everything wrong with the universe. When they were all on the tray he near threw them into the oven and let the door slam.
"What, this again?" He faced Gabriel in a way he hadn't been able to since he got out of the hospital, fully, looking at him dead on for the first time in three days. He couldn't say that these two days of solitude had made his head any clearer, but they had given the chance for old habits to reassert themselves, habits like the way he responded to confrontation. He despised the cringing aversion that had overtaken him in Gabriel's apartment.
-
Gabriel stared at Roman, meeting his eyes. This again? This again? That's what he had to say? His mouth dropped open but it was a few seconds before he was able to muster up a response.
"Seriously? 'This again'? You dropped a freakin' bomb on me and it's just...it's just 'this again'? That's it? That's what you have to say? What is this?" Gabriel tossed the spoon into the sink as he said it, Roman's response tipping him well past nervousness and into...he didn't even know! Incredulity? Frustration? After everything, after all the stress of the past few days, weeks, after having to chase him down and wrangle him for answers Roman didn't want to give asking questions that were hard as hell to ask and the epic awkwardness and crazy of a few days before and--and that's what he had to say?
Just this blase acting like it was an inconvenience or something they both mutually understood and had discussed or something? What?
It was Gabriel's turn to pace, running his hands through his hair. "What is going on? I don't--I don't understand what's happening. I don't know what you're--I mean, are you just trolling me or something? 'Cause I think you said this one thing and I know I said this other thing but you're just--am I going crazy?"
-
Something about others freaking out always made Roman all the more calm. He settled down the more Gabriel became irate and waited until he'd run out of things to say.
"Done?" he said. Meaning done with the fit, not done with the subject, because Roman didn't think he was going to get out of this that easily.
-
"No!" Gabriel blurted, and Roman's calm only added anger to the whole panicked mix. There was something about other people staying perfectly calm while he was freaking out that only made him want to freak out more. Maybe because he just had no idea how to respond to total calm like that, no idea how to interpret it. He couldn't read Roman right now and he didn't like that.
"No! What's wrong with you, I'm not done! Are you gonna--"
He paused, took a deep, slow breath, then another. "Are you gonna...explain anything?"
-
Again he waited for Gabriel to finish. His mind was still, and he couldn't recall the last time he'd enjoyed this kind of calm. Not since the shooting, not since waking up. Thank the gods for Gabriel's decaying composure?
He let the silence stretch a few seconds to make sure Gabriel was done. Then he rubbed at his forehead. He was doing that a lot lately. Headaches gnawed at his skull near constant now.
"Let's go out." He said it on a sigh. The cookies could wait. He turned off the oven knob and shuffled past Gabriel.
-
Gabriel only nodded at that, not really trusting himself to speak. If he open his mouth, there was no telling what would come out, not when he was in full-on panic mode. Silently, he followed after Roman and it was only once they were outside the apartment and the door was shut behind them that he spoke.
"Where to?"
-
Roman shrugged. He was going to leave it at that, but managed to find a couple words. "Any ideas?"
He was as silent as Gabriel, for different reasons. There was no danger of him blurting out something unexpected. This was like trying to make his way through a pitch black room by feel alone. He couldn't sprint, no matter how Gabriel wanted him to. He'd make it to the other side, but slowly, step by cautious step.
-
No, he had no ideas. Gabriel's head was blank as far as that went and far too preoccupied with other things and none of those things were 'places to go out to'. Normally he had a huge long list because he was always trying to drag Roman out to do something, broaden his horizons, have some fun. There were a million places he wanted to take him.
Right then, he couldn't think of a single one.
He groped for something, though, just to fill in the awkward silence. "Outside," he finally said. Out of the Citadel. He needed some fresh air because right now he was starting to feel all shut in and choked. It was easier when Roman was the one freaking out, for some reason. This, the total calm and suddenly wanting to get out, just felt like a set up for bad news--a totally irrational thought on his end, but he never dealt well with not knowing and his mind started coming up with the worst scenarios.
Like that he'd finally bulldozed their already elastic boundaries down and gone way too far over them, that now Roman was uncomfortable, that he'd killed something great just because he couldn't get over something he should have gotten over years ago and dredged it up at an inappropriate time and now just couldn't let it go.
He abruptly realized, several seconds later, that "outside" was kind of vague and probably not what Roman had meant. He tried to remember what was close by.
Close by and not still being repaired.
He stepped inside an elevator and held the doors for Roman. "That coffee place on Front Street?" It was only a block away.
-
"Outside," he agreed. Out of the Citadel, away from all this. In a neutral place that had no threads tying it to past or present.
Gabriel seemed to be getting it. He hoped so, because he didn't have the ability to put it into words. The barrage had stopped. That made it easier to think, and easier to keep down that jittery instinct to run away or shield himself with old habits.
"That's fine." He led the way toward one of the shuttle stops, where they could board one of the big public shuttles that would take them out into the city. He didn't care where or what kind of place so long as he got out.
-
Luckily the shuttle was already there, which meant no waiting. And luckily the shuttle was crowded, which meant no talking. It was hard to hear over the din of voices and traffic and the press of bodies and minds and Gabriel sure as hell was not gonna shout over the noise. But that was okay. The chaos was a nice distraction; it made focusing on even his own thoughts difficult and, weirdly enough, that got him a little calmer.
It was a fast, straight shot to their stop, and the little coffee shop was just a few stores down. There weren't very many people currently there and the outside seating was totally vacant, so that's where Gabriel headed. Right then, he had no appetite and he felt jittery enough without the help of caffeine so he just pulled out a chair and paused.
"This alright? I mean, out here?"
-
The noise and movement of the city kept his mind quiet. He had thoughts, but they were currents beneath a calm surface. They tugged at him but he didn't go along.
"I think I want something." He inclined his head toward the door, then went on through. There was no line, and the place was nearly deserted at this time of day.
"Latte," he said. Then, with the same measure of reluctance someone would use for requesting poison, he added, "decaf."
Couldn't mix caffeine with the meds, one of many blasphemies they had inflicted on his life.
-
"No prob. I'll be out here," Gabriel said, in no mood to be inside now that he'd finally gotten out. Walls just felt choking right now and at least out here he could distract himself with people-watching while he waited, keep his mind occupied. At least, that was the idea, though it sort of failed.
He took a seat at the table and fiddled nervously with his phone, of half a mind to send Alaric a panicked barrage of texts but thinking better of it. Instead, he turned his focus to keeping calm and thinking of how not to fuck this up, if he hadn't already.
Whatever this was. Roman kept using that word, Gabriel kept using that word, and he hadn't yet figured out what it even meant.
-
Roman joined him with his shameful decaf latte in hand. He didn't even touch it yet, just set it down and folded his arms on the table. They were facing away from the construction going on around the Citadel—repairs from Scher's frenzy. Out in front of them was pristine, alive Haviah, thrumming from tip to root.
"I have to drink decaf," he said, just to say something, just to get words out there.
-
Gabriel forced a grin. "Decaf, huh? Maybe now you'll actually sleep, you vampire."
Of course, as he'd learned, that had been the result of amphetamines...but Gabriel pushed that out of his mind. He was still angry about that, even a little angry at himself for never noticing or suspecting, but he was off them now, right? Had hopefully learned from this. Off the drugs--all of them--and in the process of healing from everything. Eventually, the anger would fade, but he was still shaken from how close that had been and how...little Roman seemed to care about himself. Because that was the only explanation he had for why someone would abuse themselves like that and push themselves so hard.
He cared more about his work than himself.
But now wasn't the time to bring it up and Gabriel didn't even know how to do that. But he did know it wasn't anytime soon, when Roman was still vulnerable and edgy from everything that had gone down.
And especially not when they were already on an equally tricky subject.
"So..." he finally started, looking down at Roman's coffee. "You wanted to go out and we're out. Uh, I mean, come out." He winced. Alright, both of those just sounded weird right now, considering the subject. "You know what I mean."
-
He couldn't lean back against the chair, so he leaned forward in stead. It was one of those things he never would have noticed, how often you lean back when you sit and how awkward it was to never be able to do that.
"Yep," he said. He spun the coffee cup in slow circles. Even that was an avoidance, just another thing to look at and think about besides Gabriel. "We're out."
-
"Yeah," Gabriel said, leg bouncing under the table, feeling restless and fidgety. "Heh! So we are. Imagine. At a coffee shop. And whatnot."
He let silence stretch between them, waiting, hoping, that Roman would take the bait. He'd brought this subject up a grand total of three times and rather than getting easier, it was only getting more difficult to do. Roman's reaction made him nervous, first freaking out at him and now avoiding it completely. Made him feel a little insecure, actually. More than a little. And he wasn't really used to feeling that way.
When he couldn't take the quiet anymore, he cleared his throat. "So...that stuff that we were talking about..."
-
Roman laid his head down on his folded arms, so that all he could see was the grain of the tabletop a few inches in front of his face. He'd been half way hoping—still!—that Gabriel would abandon the subject or put it off to another time. He wanted out of this, and not just this, here with Gabriel in this moment, but all of it. The metal heart beating away inside him at an irregular rhythm, the meds that made him feel sick all the time, the four new bullet holes in his torso—just every damn bit of it.
"Yeah?" Nowhere left to go now. He wasn't running away again. Panic had gotten to him that first time, but that was done. He wasn't facing this well but he was facing it.
-
"Yeah..."
Roman laying down on the table kind of made him start to feel like a massive dick for bringing up the subject again, for dragging him out here--well, alright, so he hadn't dragged him out here, Roman had suggested it, but still. He was getting so many weird signals that he didn't know what to make of anything anymore.
Not that he did in the first place.
The words 'you okay?' were on his tongue, but he bit them back. While he normally was a fairly good judge of Roman's moods and how he'd react to what, he was having a strangely difficult time gauging him now. He didn't want that to be what set him off. He was worried, but he knew Roman had probably heard that enough.
Instead he took a deep breath. His mind was all over the place and he needed to rein it in, needed to steel his nerve because he was starting to lose it.
"I guess I just...I--" He made a frustrated sound. Fuck it all.
"Look, I like you, alright?" he finally blurted, and forced himself to look at Roman as he did. There. It was out, said loud and clear while they were both lucid. If Roman wouldn't broach it, then that left him. Didn't mean he didn't want the table to swallow him up as soon as he said it, but at least he'd gotten it out.
-
The quiet could have gone on forever and Roman would have been happy. It was just a few more seconds he could delay having to deal with this. He raised his head up enough to see his coffee cup and dragged it over to him.
He propped himself up a little further. Gabriel's words hit him with the cup halfway to his lips. He winced at them, shook his head, then followed through with the action and took a nauseating sip of bitter decaf. He set the cup back down and went back to turning it in circles.
"You said that." Before. And maybe again in the apartment, Roman couldn't quite remember. Panic obscured his memory of the exact words said there. He didn't have to be so direct about it.
-
It was Gabriel's turn to feel panicked. Roman looked bored. Or bothered. He'd actually winced when he'd said it. He swallowed past a sudden lump in his throat. "Yeah. Um. So. There it is."
He paused again, picking at a cracked part of the table and steeling himself. He just needed to know what was up. That's it. And...and he needed to know that they were still okay. He thought Roman had said he felt the same, but fuck if he knew what was going on anymore--now he just needed to know that he hadn't ruined things.
Roman had said he could never wreck anything, but now...he didn't know. Maybe he'd forgotten that, too.
"Is that really weird?" he finally said. "'Cause I mean I don't wanna make things weird, and I wouldn't have said anything if you hadn't--you know? I just--fuck, I just freakin' said all that and that's all you have to say about it?"
-
"Yes! That is all I can say about it!" Roman scrubbed a hand through his hair. His leg bounced under the table. He could not sit still. It was a spill over of the powerful need to flee he was feeling just then. He couldn't run, so he fidgeted, kept moving.
"Don't you get it? This is difficult! How can you just—" Even this, even these words, fought him. He could barely get them out, and they still weren't even that specific. He kept referring to it as 'it'. So long as he said it like that it kept a distance there. "How can you just say it? Keep saying it?"
It hit him like a punch in the gut every time Gabriel said it. It shone light onto something that had known only darkness, and it was painful.
-
"'Cause you're really kinda starting to freak me out right now!" Gabriel blurted back, voice taking on a panicked edge.
-
"Okay, okay." Roman stilled. As before, Gabriel's panic only calmed him, and even his voice grew quieter, lost its uncertainty. Great for him, bad for Gabriel. There was a limit to how much one person could take. This couldn't have been easy. If one of them walked away, it would be so much more difficult to try and pin this down again. They were here. They had to get somewhere with this.
He shook his head. "I'm freaking you out?" Amazing. Gabriel found a way to be exasperating even now.
-
"Well, yeah!" Gabriel said. "It's not easy and I just said a bunch of stuff and I keep getting a lot of mixed signals or nothing back! And that's freaky as fuck because I don't know what that means, because you're not saying anything."
He took a deep breath, trying to get a hold on himself, but he'd about reached his breaking point. This was worse that rejection; he expected rejection, was convinced it was something else. Hell, he didn't know what he'd do if Roman didn't reject him because the possibility had never entered his mind. But he just...needed to know.
"It's not like I know what I'm doing here. Especially because it's you and I never figured--you know? And I know I got a fuckton of issues and I'm annoying and I won't be like...upset or whatever if you were just high and stressed and saying weird stuff so can you just...say something?"
-
"I don't know what to say! I don't know how to talk about this! Don't you get that?" He'd spent years denying himself the ability to even think about it. Now he was supposed to put words to it? Just like that?
"I am saying things! Here I am, right now, talking! You think I know what to do with this, any more than you do? You think I know where to go with it? I don't." He still wasn't really thinking about what it all meant, just reacting in the moment. Because Gabriel meant what he'd said, and Roman meant what he'd said, and that made them something they'd never been before, something neither of them knew how to deal with.
-
"You're saying things but I don't know what you're saying!" And oh gods, here he went, he was freaked and now he was just going to make things worse and blow everything because he was freaking out.
Gabriel took another deep breath and rubbed his face, and almost had to laugh out of a combination of panic, frustration, and incredulity. Even now they'd somehow turned this conversation into one of their typical "no, you!" arguments. Only with way more at stake than winning or losing. One of them had to pull themselves together.
And then he did laugh, short and tired, still staring down at the table because he found himself suddenly nervous to look at Roman. In all the random, stupid daydreams he'd entertained, his confessions had never really gone down this way. They'd been awkward in the romantic comedy sense, but he'd been significantly smoother and significantly less terrified. Now he might be seriously fucking up one of the relationships he cared most about.
"Okay, okay," he said, fighting down the nervous jitters. "So...hookay. Uh. So. You...like me. And I like you." He paused and glanced up, looking for some reaction, anything really. "Yeah?"
-
Roman's head was swimming now. Too much walking, too much emotion. Even mental exertion took too much energy out of him. He had to close his eyes for awhile, but drifted open again when Gabriel asked that question. The question, the one that would make this all real.
He looked Gabriel full in the eyes for the first time since waking in that hospital. It made him tense up, like he wanted to run away from it. "Yes. And don't say it like that. You make it sound like we're school kids."
-
Gabriel looked away first, heat creeping up his neck and nerves kicking back into high gear.
"You're acting like one," he mumbled, staring intently at the tabletop. "I feel like one. So...uh..." Well, shit. Now that he finally had his answer, he had no idea what to do with it. And hell, who was he kidding, it had been easier when he was a school kid. Sixteen years old, a cool upperclassman he hardly knows asks him out, he says "sure!" for no other reason than he wanted to know what it was like to have a boyfriend (and because it felt nice to be hit on), and here he is, freakin' twenty-four, sitting across a guy he's known eight years and crushed on for more than half of that...and he's clueless.
"Wow. Okay. So...uh...wow." Where the hell did you go from there? His mind didn't seem to be functioning; this felt too unreal, and scary, and exciting all at once. He tried to find his words again, anything. "So...yeah. Confession. Ahaha. Y'know spin-the-bottle? Um. I wasn't faking."
-
When Gabriel looked away it was like a release on him. He could breathe again, was free to look away himself. Everything was different now, heavier. Unbidden came the thought that they never should have talked about this. It should have stayed in the dark, quiet. They could have been happy as they were. Couldn't they?
"Stop." He put a hand up. This was too much for him right now, and that spin the bottle kiss...that had unhinged him. Nearly torn down the elaborate bulwark of denial he'd been constructing all these years.
"Just...that's enough for now. For today." He put his head down. He felt like he'd run a marathon, like his whole body was depleted.
-
Gabriel clamped his mouth shut against the stream of nervous babbling. Had he gone too far? Shit, he'd gone too far. He swallowed the words before more could come up. "Sorry," he quickly said, and took a deep breath. "I don't mean--uhhh...Roman? Y'okay?"
The guy looked like he was starting to wilt. That cleared up the panic, at least a little, enough to get some rationality back and grasp the bigger picture. Like, y'know, that Roman was far from well yet.
He started to reach out, thought better of it considering the circumstances, and cleared his throat. "You wanna head back?"
-
After a few dizzying moments, Roman nodded. It took a few more moments yet before he was able to lift his head up and stand, and even then he could feel how pale he felt. His whole body felt cold. He didn't trust himself to talk—thought he might throw up or stutter endlessly—so he started the long walk back home in silence.
-
Gabriel rose and fell into step beside him, worried but now for an entirely different reason: Roman looked ready to pass out.
"Hey...wait, I could call a cab...?"
Which probably wouldn't get them back any sooner than the shuttle would, because who knew where it was coming from. But Roman looked bad, face colorless, and guilt started to worm its way in for pushing too hard, too fast. It was selfish, what he was doing. He should have waited. This discussion could have waited. It wasn't worth Roman's health and well-being--but it was Roman who wanted to come out, and Roman who despised being treated as an invalid.
Then again, Gabriel knew he shouldn't always listen to what Roman wanted when it came to matters of health, considering.
He had to take the blame here.
-
Yes, he should call a cab. No, Roman would not let him. It would take nothing less than physical force to get him into a cab. He was walking to the shuttle, then to home. Under his own power, even if he fell to pieces once he got the the apartment.
"No." He stuffed his hands in his pockets and concentrated on not losing his balance. The walkway seemed long, impossibly so, so he didn't think about it or look up at it to the shuttle station beyond.
-
Gabriel bit back his insistence that they do and kept pace beside Roman, not touching him but prepared to grab him if he stumbled or passed out. He understood pride and the last thing he wanted to do was crush his spirit. He was just uncertain as to where the line was between pride and dude this is your health, don't be stupid was.
It was a very thin line.
They made it to the shuttle, and he staked out an empty seat just as it was vacated and waited for Roman to take it. "Don't argue."
-
He didn't argue, but he did shoot Gabriel a warning look. He took the seat grudgingly, because he needed it, because he suddenly felt stretched so thin.
He rode with his head down the entire time, but roused himself immediately when the shuttle glided to a stop at the Citadel. Then it was another silent journey through the towering structure up to his room.
He stopped, holding the door open, blocking the way in. "Leave me alone for a little while. I'll see you tomorrow."
-
Gabriel paused, hedged, still a mess of nerves and concern, but then he took a step back and nodded. Roman could take it from here, and they both needed time; he sure as hell did because he still wasn't certain what had happened, was still confused by the signals he was getting versus the words he was hearing, was still wrangling his own thoughts--if a bit better than Roman was dealing with his own, it seemed.
But his denial had always just been to keep himself safe, because Roman could never feel that way about him. Ever. Despite how close they often were. So he'd friend-zoned him, put him in the same category he put Alaric, even though all those little interactions still got to him when he wasn't being particularly careful. But now that it was out in the open, now that they'd both admitted it, he felt he could finally be honest.
Which meant, like anything else in his life, it was all or nothing and he went in with guns a-blazing so he couldn't have a chance to think and lose his nerve--at a time when he probably should have been far more delicate.
"Alright," he said, taking another step back. "See ya tomorrow? Ah, call me if you need anything, alright?"
-
"Yeah." Affirmation of two things implicit in that one word. That he was fine—would be fine on his own—and that Gabriel would be there tomorrow whether Roman was ready to deal with this or not. So he'd better be ready.
Alone finally, he changed his bandages, cleaned himself up as best he could. Lay down, closed his eyes, slept only a little. He was up and moving before he had any cause to be, and with nothing to do he cleaned, cooked more, tried to read. A huge knot untied itself in his stomach when it was at last time to go to physical therapy, which he'd specifically requested for the early morning. Mornings would be the worst for him. It was when he usually did most of his work.
He was back in the apartment by 0900, and was completely lost. He was running out of things to clean.
-
It took some time before the sheer embarrassment and shame died down. Once he was home, Gabriel took a long, calming shower (that didn't actually calm anything) before throwing himself into bed and fighting the urge to smother himself with a pillow. Sleep didn't come for a long time.
He'd gotten an answer, finally. That fact hit him fully once he was alone. But holy crap. That entire situation. What was he thinking? He'd had to basically harass Roman into an answer. Badger a sick friend into saying 'yes'. Way to go, him. Even though Roman had said it first. Even though--it hit him again, a sudden wave of nervous giddiness. Roman liked him.
He could have said it a little less...like he was admitting to loving angry girl bands.
Aw, crap.
He was acting like a freakin' school kid.
So he spent the rest of the night doing something more mindless and manly, something that didn't involve dealing with so many stupid, conflicted emotions. He popped in a game and massacred zombies until his eyes tired out.
The first few days were awkward.
Gabriel didn't speak a word of what happened.
He pushed it out of his head and went about his business, helping Roman without saying that he was helping, getting him out of the apartment, and acting like nothing had happened. Whatever his thoughts on the matter, whatever they'd said the other day, Gabriel realized that what scared him most was the idea of losing what they already had. If it came right down to it...it didn't matter. Roman could have said 'no'. That would have been fine. It would have been expected and it would have been closure. As long as they could still have what they did, that's what mattered--and hadn't Roman said he couldn't wreck things?
He hoped that was true. Because he was a bumbling idiot.
And he just wanted Roman to flip at him over something stupid, already.
Slowly, things became a little less awkward, on Gabriel's end, at least. He even started to send out his usual annoying texts at weird hours.
Nearly a week had gone by. Gabriel finished his shift for the day and ran a few errands before heading over to Roman's. A bag of groceries in hand, he knocked on the door. "Oh, honeybeeear! I'm heeere!"
-
Roman called Gabriel in. He was sprawled on the couch, waving a feather about for Blank. Gabriel was expected. It was routine now, for Gabriel to be there when he wasn't working. It kept Roman sane, and he'd bet it did something for Gabriel's anxiety to be active and useful.
"Oh good, you're here." He waved Gabriel over with a flop of his hand. "Will you button my shirt? I'm...so weak."
Since he couldn't stand to be actually helpless, he'd become exaggeratedly helpless. He made it something he could deal with. He made it into a joke. Bonus? He got to annoy Gabriel with increasingly ridiculous demands.
-
Gabriel froze in the doorway, and didn't know whether to groan or burst out laughing. Instead he just stared, lips quirked in an amused "you gotta be kidding me" smile and head slightly tilted.
"Are you serious right now." It wasn't so much a question as a disbelieving statement. Roman's requests had gone from reasonable to trollish as of late, but this was a new one.
Dropping the groceries off onto the kitchen counter, he headed into the living room, shook his head at the sight of Roman, and leaned over him to get at his shirt. He tugged the shirt closed and lined the two sides up. "What're we gonna do with you? Next thing I know, I'll be tying your shoes and dressing you. Let that be motivation for you, because you won't like what I pick out!" he said as he started to do up the buttons, then paused as a thought struck and looked up at Roman, expression deadpan.
"Oh, and just so we're clear? I draw the line at wiping your butt. Alright? Alright!"
-
Roman sighed dramatically as Gabriel buttoned his shirt up. He flicked the feather about, and Blank batted at it.
Count on Gabriel to say something disgusting. He didn't even dignify it with a verbal response, just returned Gabriel's flat look while he communicated with Blank. She was riled up already, and it took very little convincing to get her to crouch, aim, and pounce right for Gabriel's face.
-
Gabriel shrugged and started up on the final button. "What? I'm just saying that--WAH!"
He had not been expecting that. He took a direct hit to the face and got a mouthful of fur, stumbled, and landed on Roman's legs. He wiped his face, picked fur off his tongue, and shot Roman a look. "Hey! Watch where you're flicking that thing!"
-
That gave Roman a laugh. A real one.
"What?" He spread his hands, the picture of innocence. "What, she just likes you. She wants to play!"
-
"That's love, huh? Like when she pooped in my sink? Again?"
Reaching down, Gabriel snatched Blank up off the floor and plopped her onto Roman's face, just to give him a taste of his own medicine.
-
Roman pushed Blank off and shook his head at Gabriel. That very disappointed teacher shake of the head. "Using an innocent cat in your mind games. That's low."
-
"Whaaat?" Gabriel laughed. "Hey pot? I think kettle'd like a word with you. 'Cause I'm not the one here that can go all mind-gamey on animals."
-
"How dare you. I would never. Would I, Blanky?"
Quite fed up with all the attention they gave to each other, Blank leaped up onto Roman's chest and stared at Gabriel.
-
Gabriel scooped Blank up and held her cradled like a baby, body turned away from Roman as though protecting her. "Yeah? Well she just told me otherwise. I could see it in her eyes. You oughta be ashamed of yourself. Right, Blanky? 'Right, Gabe!'"
He turned to face Roman again and took one of Blank's paws in his hand, waving it in a "tsk tsk" sort of motion. "Shaaame."
-
"Oh yeah," Roman said as if just now remembering. "I have a bunch of other stuff I saved for you to do, on account of me being so weak and crippled. Could you start by refolding my clothes? All of them? I tried, but I just...I felt so faint and my vision was all wavery and I don't feel I got them perfectly symmetrical. Thanks. Then all my canned goods need to be alphabetized aaaaand...let's see, if you could go around the house and rotate every plant so that the weaker side is facing seventy-one point three nine seven degrees east of truth north, that would be great."
-
Gabriel let Blank's paw flop, and then just stared at Roman in wide-eyed, disbelieving horror.
"...Okay, so did this whole thing just make you more neurotic or were you secretly always this bad?"
-
"What are you talking about?" Roman arched his back in a long, lazy stretch. "Everyone rotates their plants to take advantage of the electromagnetic waves of the planet's atmosphere. You just don't know about it because you let all your plants die."
-
"Pffft, I don't even keep plants! Anymore. I can't help it if I've got the black thumb of death." Mainly because he forgot to water his plants, panicked, and then watered them too much. It was a vicious cycle.
He set Blank down onto the floor and shifted a little, lifting Roman's legs and settling them across his lap. "Anyway, I still think you're just being crazy."
-
"How is that new? You've always thought that. The feeling's mutual, by the way."
Roman reached for a glass of water on the coffee table and came up about two inches too far away to reach it without moving. He gave a loud, dramatic sigh.
"Gabriel." He shoved him with his foot. "I can't reach."
-
Gabriel stared at Roman, forehead crinkled. "For cereal?"
But, with a roll of his eyes, he leaned forward, grabbed the water, and hovered it over Roman. He smiled sweetly. "Want me to feed it to you while we're at it, cupcake?"
-
Roman folded his arms behind his head and purposefully oozed smugness. "No, but you know what I'm in the mood for? A crazy straw. Why don't you go hunt one down for me? Must have a closet full of those things at your place."
-
Gabriel's eyebrows lifted. There he was, cup hovering above Roman, and Roman just kept on with the insufferable smugness and ridiculous demands. Er. Okay, not that ridiculous. He did own a couple crazy straws. Maybe not a closet, but he had some. But that was beside the point.
It was like he was just asking for it or something. He should know the danger of this by now. All the warning signs were there! Had he not learned? Had the ice taught him nothing? The cupcakes? The tea?
Still smiling, he fished several wet ice cubes out of the cup, hooked a finger in Roman's collar, and dumped them down his shirt.
-
Roman was staring up at the ceiling, feeling pretty good about himself, so he completely missed what Gabriel was doing until the ice cubes went sliding down his chest. He hissed and jumped about two feet in the air, plucking at his shirt to get the ice out.
"You're a little shit!" The ice was out, but now he was sitting on it. He half rolled, half fell off the couch, and as soon as he found a piece of the ice, he chucked it at Gabriel. Okay, so maybe Roman couldn't keep the grin off his face. That didn't make Gabriel any less of a little shit.
-
With Roman on the floor, Gabriel flicked the rest of the ice onto the floor and stretched out fully on the couch, which was now his. He started to grin triumphantly down at Roman and say something no doubt baiting, but then a chunk of ice hit his shoulder and he yelped. "Ow, hey!" he laughed.
"You asked for it! Better watch it, cupcake, I got an entire glass left over and I'm not afraid to use it."
-
Roman called Blank back over—not with any audible words. Gabriel wanted to play hardball? Fine.
"You think I won't make her pee on your chest? Give me back my couch. I'm an invalid you insensitive fuck."
-
"You think I won't rub it all over you if you do?" Gabriel shot back. "And all over the couch!" he added for good measure.
He grinned down at Roman. "Want it back? Come and get it, big boy."
-
Roman gave him a withering look, the kind that made candidates cringe but that had lost its effectiveness on Gabriel a long time ago. "Yeah. How, smartass?"
They couldn't exactly wrestle like they used to. Bullet wounds took a longass time to heal up, and he was still sore.
-
Gabriel peered down over the side of the couch at Roman, considering. The withering look rolled off him like water off a duck's back, but it was the other stuff that suddenly made this dangerous terrain he was still working out how to navigate. Most days, he had to be very careful when it came to offering Roman help, had to carefully disguise the offer or risk setting him off--and not in a "haha" way, but in a far more tragic way.
But today, Roman seemed to be milking the whole 'invalid' thing for all it was worth, making a ridiculous mockery of it.
Alright, then!
"D'aaaw. Is the poor baby fallen and can't get up?" Gabriel sat up and reached both hands down to him. "C'mere, snookums. Let daddy make it all better!"
-
Daddy? Baby talk? Ugh. Roman pulled a face and gave a little shudder. He held both hands up. "I give. You win that one. Hope it was worth all the respect I ever had for you."
He was still ranting as he got up and went in search of...he didn't even know what. Something else to drink, some to do. "Not that I ever had much to begin with but, y'know, that shit was hard-won. But sure, baby talk. Go for it. I got shot four times in the back, but that? What you just did?"
He'd ended up opening and closing a few cabinets, the fridge, not really looking for anything specific. "That is shameful."
-
So that was what it took to break him? Laughing, Gabriel filed that away for future use, under 'cheap tactics to be used very sparingly'. "Guess it's a good thing I've got no shame to be full of?"
He rose to his feet and followed after Roman, on hand in case he needed something, namely from a place he couldn't reach because with his meds and whatnot, Roman was not climbing any step stools on his watch. Gabriel watched him tear through the kitchen, venting on the poor cupboards and doors, and shook his head. "Aww, pumpkin pie, don't gimme the stink-eye! You know I think you're fly...uh, you make me high? Yeah, that makes no sense but don't deny! Or be all shy! Not that you are but y'know gotta...rhyme."
As Roman opened and shut the fridge, Gabriel came up behind him and gave him a careful hug, arms loose around his belly so as not to squeeze his wounds and chin on his shoulder. "Aaaand I don't know what else rhymes with 'pie' except like e-coli buuut you get the idea, aye?"
-
Ever since getting out of the hospital, Roman had this sense like he was a loose balloon, untethered, drifting into nothing. He felt like there was no ground beneath him and what frightened him, what kept him awake and staring at the ceiling at night, was not knowing when it would end. He couldn't see a future any better than the present.
It was why he couldn't stop moving around, but Gabriel's arms stilled him. More than that, they unwound some of the tension seizing his muscles and he relaxed backwards against him. He sought for something to say to the stupid rhyme—or the message behind it—but came up with nothing, so instead he stayed where he was and laid a hand over one of Gabriel's own.
-
Gabriel felt the shifting of weight and muscles and the warmth of Roman's hand and let out a slow breath, letting his own tension drain out. Tension he hadn't really realized was there, but it was hard seeing Roman like this and it was hard figuring out what was the right thing to say. He wasn't that great with words; he had all the tact and delicacy of a bulldozer.
So for a long moment he said nothing; he just enjoyed the calm, quiet moment for what it was. He could be the pillar here. Roman had been his more than he could count, and more than he'd admit.
"It's gonna be alright."
-
It was a good thing Gabriel couldn't see his face, because those words made him wince and shit but he didn't want to give the impression that—on top of everything else—Gabriel had said exactly the wrong thing. He'd heard that phrase so much it made him sick. He understood now, why people hated hearing it. It'll be all right. Seriously, fuck him if he ever uttered those words to anyone again.
He turned around and put his back to the fridge. He rubbed a hand over his eyes. "I really need you right now."
Now, in the weeks to come—always. He couldn't do this alone, and that was as well as he knew how to say it.
-
"I'm not going anywhere," Gabriel said, and cracked a crooked grin, letting his arms drop when Roman turned around. "Even when you get all grouchy and try and toss me out. Nope. I'm the hot glue to your toothpick tower, baby--totally stuck on you!"
His smile faded a little then and he met Roman's eyes. "But seriously, dude, just...lemme know what I can do? Alright?"
-
Roman nodded, but averted his eyes. He didn't know what he needed from Gabriel, and that was part of the problem. How could he ask for something he couldn't identify, couldn't put any words to? He'd spent the better part of his life trying not to ask people for help. And now? Now he could only hope Gabriel knew him better than Roman knew himself. Because he sure didn't know how he was going to pull his shit together after this.
-
"Hey, hey, look at me," Gabriel said, leaning a little to follow Roman's eyes. "You don't have to feel ashamed or anything, okay? It's just me here. And...I dunno..."
He gave a little shrug and an awkward smile. "I...kind of like that you told me that?" Now it was his turn to avert his eyes. "I don't really know how to explain it except that I like being able to do things for you. And...I like that you trust me enough to let me in like that. I know this isn't easy, so...thank you."
-
Yeah. Yeah, that was true. It was hard to feel embarrassed around a guy who had once licked pie from his fingers.
He smiled, just a little bit—it was all he could really manage at the moment. "Well, you'll have plenty of time to do things for me. I hope you know I'm going to milk this for all it's worth."
-
"Wouldn't have it any other way, pudding pie," Gabriel said, and tapped Roman on the nose to break the tension. "I'll even clean Blank's litter box and scrub the toilet. On one condition! Because I'm not doing this all out of the goodness of my heart."
He grinned. "You haaave to watch 10 Things I Loathe About You with me. And, y'know, several other awesome movies of my choice, because dude, you need some pop culture in your life. See, I'm planning on milking this for all it's worth, too, while you're my helpless captive."
-
Roman pulled a face and rolled his eyes. He didn't exactly know the movie, but he'd heard of it. Even if he hadn't, the simple fact that this was Gabe suggesting this would have told him everything he needed to know.
"Oh, come on. Not one of your shitty romantic comedies. Can't it at least be one of your shitty fantasies or shitty sci-fis?"
-
"It's not shitty!" Gabriel said with an offended scoff. "Keith Fletcher is a brilliant and versatile actor. And really hot. And it's supposed to be based around some old play or book or something only made to be modern and not snobby. Like, you've probably read it. Buuuut, if you insiiist, I do have some romantic sci-fi and fantasy comedies! Like The Princess Scribe. That one's a classic, so don't roll your eyes at me, old man!"
-
After weighing the relative shittiness of his options, Roman figured there was really only one choice.
"Ugh, all right. I guess I could do worse than Princess Scribe."
It had its funny moments at least. He lead the way back into the living room.
-
"Yesss!" Gabriel pumped his fist and followed on after Roman. "Alright! But don't think you've gotten out of 10 Things I Loathe About You! It's gonna happen! And you'll love it. Don't even lie."
In the living room, Gabriel commandeered the remote, flipped on the TV, and accessed Networkflix. He motioned to the couch. "Go on, get settled and comfy and stuff. Want anything while I'm still up? Tea? Snacks?"
-
Roman flopped back on the couch and crossed his arms. He felt like he was dangerously close to pouting. "No. And I'm starting to think I should have picked your stupid romantic comedy just to get it over with."
-
"Tea and snacks it is! For the whiny baby. Because I know you'll want some later right when we get to the good part."
Sticking his tongue out at Roman, Gabriel vanished briefly into the kitchen, and returned balancing a glass of iced tea for Roman (rooibos with an orange slice, since Roman couldn't have caffeine and he everything he saw suggested orange for rooibos instead of lemon; he wasn't sure Roman would like anything about it or not, but since the decaf subject was still sticky, he figured he'd just give it to him and go from there), a can of soda for himself, and a bag of cookies for the both of them.
He deposited the drinks onto the coffee table, hit the play button, and plopped down next to Roman. He tore open the cookie bag so the smell could waft between them. "You should try the tea."
-
Wow. Gabriel knew him too well. He had, just moments ago, entertained the strategy of getting up for food halfway through the movie and taking his sweet time getting back.
As soon as Gabriel left, Roman grimaced, arching his back in a stretch that pulled at the healing bullet wounds that ran clean through his torso. This was by far the worst injury he'd ever taken on the job. The discomfort, the ache that lingered all through his middle, it never really went away, not unless he medicated himself into delirium, but he found that by far a more torturous state to be in. By the time Gabriel got back, he was settled again.
He raised his eyebrows at the tea, but didn't say anything. He was dubious but willing. It was tea, how bad could it be?
"Have you even had anything besides junk food today?" He eyed the soda.
-
The movie began, the title credits rolling, and Gabriel cracked open his soda.
"I had a burger earlier," he said, taking a sip. "That counts, right? I mean, it's got all the food groups. Lettuce, meat, dairy, bread...and hey, tomato's a fruit!" Then, eying Roman and scooting a little closer, he nudged his arm. "I don't see you trying your tea."
-
"It'll do. I guess. Not the worst thing you could have had." Somehow he got the feeling he was going to be cooking for Gabriel tonight, even though he was the sick one. It wasn't even Gabriel's fault either. It was just Roman's mother rubbing off on him.
When Gabriel nudged closer Roman laid his arm along the back of the couch. "I'm getting to it. You're a pushy nurse, damn. What'd you make me?"
Upon first sip, the tea turned out to be good. Not what he was expecting or used to, but good. He still couldn't have said what it was. Roman was a creature of habit—he hadn't had anything except his usual black tea in years.
-
Gabriel waited anxiously, while pretending to watch the movie and not Roman's reaction, and felt kind of silly for being anxious about tea. But he kind of wanted things to just be...special. Special in a casual "hey, dude, I care about you a lot! And think about you! And even remember your frou frou tea that you're sad about not being able to have, and this whole thing sucks and things are different but here's a little gesture that will maybe mean something because even if stuff is different it can still be kind of the same" and...oh fuck. He had put way too much thought into this after all.
He glanced at Roman when he took a sip. "It's roo...roo-ee...roobious? Something like that. It's red tea, whatever that means! Is it alright? I know you can't have your other stuff and it's probably not the same but that's what the person at the tea shop place recommended so..."
Yeah. He'd even set foot into a tea shop. Felt like a fish out of water there, too.
-
"Rooibos," Roman said. "It's good. Y'know, for herbal."
He made an effort to just stare at the screen and not start anything, but Gabriel could not have been more obvious that he was anxious about something if he'd written it on his forehead, and Roman just about couldn't take anymore unresolved issues hovering over his head.
"What's up with you? Relax."
-
Gabriel twitched, jerked his eyes back to the screen. "Huh? I'm not unrelaxed. I'm just...uh...I'm just caffeinated. Yeah."
He nodded to his soda, and set it on the coffee table. "Probably shouldn't have caffeine with a sit-down activity. Oh hey, hah! It's this part! Shhh!"
The heroine had entered the scene, and of course the hero was all smooth and witty and flirty and stuff. Man, that guy had game. Their first scene together and the chemistry was already off the charts and adorable, but of course she had to rebuke the dude, because then there wouldn't be an entire rest of the movie. Gabriel glanced at Roman again. Then back at the movie. Casually, he stretched and slid his arm over the back of the couch--and hit Roman's arm, which was already there. He jerked his arm away and felt his face heat.
"Oh. Sorry." Shit. Too obvious?
-
"Uh huh." Roman grabbed the soda, waggled it at Gabriel. "Do I need to cut you off?"
Maybe joking would help the sudden awkward vibe.
-
Another time, Gabriel would have lunged for the soda, made a goofy quip, turned it into some ridiculous battle.
Right then, he just laughed nervously and scratched the side of his neck. "Haha, probably. Before I drink too much and have to pee a million times. Break the seal, y'know? Can you break the seal with soda?" Oh god, bathroom humor, why?! Redirect! Redirect! "Never mind, shhh. You're missing it."
Bringing his legs up onto the couch and tucking them to the side, he used that new position as an excuse to lean against Roman. You know. Just getting comfortable, of course.
-
He gave Gabriel a long look, then sighed and turned back to the movie. This time he settled down. Whatever it was, it wouldn't take long for it to come out. Gabriel never could hold anything in for long, not when it was really bothering him.
So he stayed silent, and when Gabriel nudged himself against Roman's side he let his arm fall across Gabriel's shoulders.
-
Gabriel took a deep breath, slowly, through his nose. He tried to focus on the movie, because it wasn't to the right part yet, and this was all about setting the right mood, right? But with Roman's arm around his shoulders and him nestled up against him, it was hard to think. All he could think about was everything he wanted to ask, everything they needed to talk about, and how nice that felt. Warm, comfortable, and...painful.
The not knowing hurt.
And this whole thing scared him.
He couldn't take it any longer.
"Hey...Roman?" He kept his eyes fixed on the movie.
"What are we?"
-
Maybe it was because he'd been expecting it this time. Maybe it was because he'd never been easy leaving things hanging in the air. For whatever reason, he was in no mood to run from this conversation this time.
"I don't know. Before, we were friends, colleagues..." He shrugged. "And now?"
It felt so strange and so comfortable at the same time, Gabriel leaning up against him like this. They must have done this exact thing a dozen times before, but now it was different. Now, neither of them knew what they were anymore, but that didn't make it bad necessarily. Just unnerving.
"Whatever we want, I guess."
-
"Whatever we want," Gabriel repeated, and took a deep breath. "Okay."
Tilting his head to look at Roman, he said, "And...what do you want?"
-
He knew what he wanted, but that wasn't the problem. What about their careers? Their reputations in the eyes of superiors and subordinates alike? What if they lost even friendship as a result of this.
He turned to Gabriel finally, hand raising to thread his fingers through Gabriel's hair.
"I want...this. I want to give this a shot, while we still can."
Because none of the answers to those questions really mattered. What mattered is he'd almost died, and neither of them had any guarantees in this job. He'd rather regret trying then regret doing nothing at all.
-
Roman's touch answered his question before his words did, but the confirmation completed it. Gabriel let out the breath he'd been holding, and with it went all his stress and uncertainty as he relaxed against Roman, no longer a tense ball of nerves with a lead weight in his gut.
"Me too," he said, quietly. Closing his eyes, he wrapped his arms around Roman's waist and was careful not to squeeze. "I want that, too."
And then, pausing, he looked up at Roman again, before looking down at his shoulder again. "So...can we?" And then, feeling a little stupid, he pressed his face into Roman's shoulder. "Sorry. I'm just...really happy right now and I don't know what I'm doing and--okay. Does this mean we're like...I mean...are we official now? Are we like...together now? Dating? Shit. Wait. I should probably do the thing..."
Lifting his head and clearing his throat, he looked up at Roman and smiled cheekily. "Uh...wanna be my boyfriend?"
-
It was stupid, but Roman was actually nervous about Gabriel's answer. He didn't need to be, and he knew that, but Gabriel didn't keep him wondering long. All the tension melted out of Gabriel's body an instant later.
Just like that, they were a couple.
I'm dating Gabriel. Holy shit.
He played with Gabriel's hair and smiled back. "Yeah. I wanna be your boyfriend."
Holy shit.
-
Ohmygodohmygodohmygodhesaidyes.
Gabriel didn't know what to say, beyond words for once, so instead he just hugged Roman again, leaned in fast, and kissed him on the cheek. He wanted to actually kiss him, like a proper, real one, and actually doing that had been a part of of his "if he says 'yes'" plan, but halfway there he chickened out. Mentally, he kicked himself for it; it wasn't like they hadn't kissed. He'd kissed Roman during spin the bottle. And for gods' sakes, it wasn't like he hadn't licked stuff off Roman before--or, y'know, even licked his face in an immature moment.
But this was different. This wasn't trolling.
"Wow. We're actually dating." This was going to take a moment to process. And yet, at the same time, here they were. The same, and yet totally different. "Oh my gods. This means I get to take you on dates."
-
Roman had been debating if he should get a kiss in, when Gabriel beat him to it.
"We're actually dating," he repeated, and gave that statement a few moments to linger, to sink in. It probably wouldn't feel real for awhile. "We're...boyfriends."
That word always sounded silly to him, but he kind of liked it.
"Y'know," he said. "You might say we're on a date now."
-
Gabriel nodded, still equally stunned. "We're boyfriends, and we're on a date. Right now."
And then he laughed, head resting against Roman's shoulder. "Our first date. Wow. Oh, hey." He nudged Roman lightly. "Just, you know, let me know if you need to swoon or anything so I can prepare the smelling salts, okay? Because seriously, was I smooth tonight or was I smooth? Bet you didn't see it coming."
-
He nudged Gabriel back. "Gods yes. My legs are all shaky. I think you might have to carry me to bed."
-
"Aww, my poor, delicate little honeybear. Fear not! For I will be the knight to your damsel! Come! Enter my embrace!"
Leaning back from from Roman, he spread his arms wide.
-
Roman rolled his eyes, grabbed Gabriel by the shirt, and pulled him back to him. "Our first date and you're already ruining it. Way to go, Tierney."
-
Laughing, Gabriel didn't resist, and cuddled right back up to Roman with an arm around his shoulders. He liked being near him, and now that he could finally get that closeness without having to justify it or pretend it was all a joke, he wanted to take full advantage. Make up for lost time.
"Ahaha, c'mon, don't act so surprised! You knew what you were signing up for, boo," he said, and trailed a hand up to thread his fingers through Roman's hair, nails lightly scratching. "I can make it better with hair pets and massages?"
-
"Mm." Roman tilted his head back. "You can always make it better with those things."
How was it that Gabriel's fingers on his scalp felt suddenly so good now they were dating?
-
"Always?" Gabriel asked and flashed Roman a sly grin, hand still moving through his hair. "Duly noted. Not that I'd ever take advantage of your weakness or anything. Never. Turn your back a little and I'll make you forget I said that."
Trailing his hands down to Roman's shoulders, he got to work on the knots there, movie long since forgotten.
-
"I'm actually okay with you providing massages in exchange for your fuckups." And he was okay with ignoring the movie and letting Gabriel spoil him.
It felt amazing, and he had to stop himself from moaning again because that would have been getting a bit weird. "You're setting a high bar to live up to for future dates I hope you know."
-
"Oh yeah? So I should stop so I don't underwhelm you on future dates? Is that what I'm hearing right now?" Gabriel said, and rested his hands on Roman's shoulders, massage paused. "Because I sure wouldn't want that!"
Meanwhile, on the TV, the credits began to roll.
-
"No," he said. "You're hearing that you should keep going or I'll get insufferably whiny."
He glanced at the TV, but let the credits keep going. He didn't even think he had another movie in him just then. He got tired too easily and too often these days, and the massage wasn't exactly revving him full of energy.
-
"Yikes. Alright, you got me there, muffincakes," Gabriel said and went right back to massaging Roman's shoulders. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the movie was done, but this night had never been about the movie in the first place so he couldn't be bothered to care about it.
This was what it was all about, and he was just...
So happy he could do things like this for Roman now, and have it mean all the things he'd always hoped that it could mean.
-
Roman didn't respond because he was mostly nodding off. He nearly fell asleep completely, and when he jerked back awake he knew it was time to call it quits.
He leaned back against Gabriel. "I think I'm done more."
-
Gabriel could feel that he was losing him. He had gone too quiet, too still, and when his head started to nod and his body started to lean, he knew it was probably about time to draw things to a close. He just hadn't had the heart to wake him himself.
When Roman jerked awake, and then leaned back against him, Gabriel leaned over his shoulder and gave him another kiss on the cheek. "I could tell I was losing ya," he said, and pat Roman's shoulder. "Alright, c'mon sleeping beauty, let's get you off to bed while you're still half-conscious."
Rising to his feet and stretching with a yawn, he held his hand out to Roman to help him up.
-
Roman took his hand and shuffled off toward the bedroom, leading the way.
"Weren't you supposed to be carrying me?"
Not that Gabriel actually could without aggravating the bullet wounds, but what kind of date would it be if they didn't give each other a hard time?
-
"Whoa, hey, when I offered, you rejected it and I ended up making it up to you with massages! You missed your chance there, bud!" Not that there really was a chance, not while Roman was banged up.
When he was healed, though?
He bet he could do it.
Following Roman into his room, he went on ahead to pull down the covers and fluff his pillow. He paused and looked over at Roman. "Do you, ah, need help...?" he asked, motioning toward his shirt.
-
Oh gods. Gabriel was so awkward, it was fucking adorable, and he loved that he could think those thoughts about him now without repressing or denying them. Roman kissed his temple and shooed him away. "I've got it. Get outta here."
Though he suspected that some nights, Gabriel didn't even go home and just slept on his couch.
-
"Okay, okay! Just...gimme one second," Gabriel said, right before hugging Roman again. Just because he finally could without it being weird. "Gotta meet my cuddle quota first. Okay, wait for it...wait for it...aaaand...we're good! You may now go to bed."
Pulling back, he lightly ruffled Roman's hair. "Sleep tight, honeybear, and...see ya in the morning?" He blinked. "I don't know why that was a question. I guess 'cause it still feels unreal and--okay. I'll let you sleep for reals now! G'night!"
Turning before he could start rambling again, he slipped out the door and closed it behind him.
And proceeded to do the thing that people always did in the movies that he didn't think people actually did.
He flopped onto Roman's couch, hugged a pillow, and squealed internally because holy shit he was dating Roman!
-
If Gabriel got any cuter, Roman might just die. It was tough to let him go. The barriers were gone, they were dating. Nothing stopping them and no reason to hold back or mask affection as something else anymore.
"In the morning," he said, smiling and trying not to grin like an idiot because Gabriel's giddiness was proving to be infectious. It took him a good hour to get cleaned up and change the bandages, and he spent the whole time in a kind of daze, still trying to wrap his head around this new reality.
In the morning, he thought. Damn. It would be a whole different world.