Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chris woke up as Eagly pecked at his toes, demanding to be let out. He checked the time on his phone - the numbers on the screen told him he overslept, but his entire body claimed otherwise. He noticed a voicemail from Vig, so he listened to it as he opened the door. He could tell that dude was grinning like a maniac while saying all of it.

 

Hey, P.! Are you up yet? Please get up soon. I found an old house being cleaned out, and guess what? SCORE! So. Many. Appliances. [a deep inhale] Dude, there is A FRIDGE. We have to go blow shit up later today! Ok, bye! [a pause] I'll pick up snacks for Eagly if you come? Alright, bye for real now.

 

Well, it sounded like a plan. Not that he had anything else waiting for him today - somehow no one was trying to take over and/or destroy the world this weekend. And Eagly wouldn't turn his beak up on snacks. He typed a reply.

 

Sounds good. Pick me up at 3 pm?

 

What Vig texted back in less than five seconds was just an indecipherable string of emojis. It could have meant "yes". It could have meant he sneezed while texting. There was no follow up, so Chris settled on the "yes" option.

 

Later that afternoon, it turned out Vig was not exaggerating - there was a righteous amount of trash waiting for them. Vig waved him off with faux modesty when he pointed that out.

 

"Come on, it's nothing compared to the four years' worth of appliances we had last time."

 

Technically, Chris already knew that tidbit of information, but it was only now that it gave him a pause.

 

"Wait, you were serious about saving them up ever since I was arrested?"

 

"Yup. I think I brought the first couple of things here a week after."

 

Chris couldn't stop himself from trying to figure out if Vig was joking, even though - in all likelihood - he wasn't.

 

"Dude, I got a thirty years sentence. That's like, life."

 

Vig shrugged.

 

"I know, but I figured, you will find the way to get out of there eventually," he said. He cocked his head a little, and Chris could sense the shit-eating grin behind the mask. "And if not, can you imagine how awesome it would be to blow up thirty years' worth of appliances?"

 

Chris didn't know what to say to that. Are you serious? was a useless question. Do you even realize how much time that is? It's about as long as you've been alive so far. You'd be almost in your sixties by then. What the fuck.

 

"Well, I'd rather be out," he said instead.

 

"I prefer it that way too." The smile in Vig's voice was audible. "I guess I was just trying to find a silver lining."

 

True to his word, Vig brought snacks, both for Eagly and for them. Right now he was throwing pieces of jerky up in the air for Eagly to dive in and swoop them up mid-flight. He was cheering delightedly at Eagly's every success, like an overbearing parent at the Little League's match.

 

Chris hadn't even noticed yet the small grin pulling at the corners of his mouth as he watched them. Vig was just so good with Eagly. It occurred to him he could have asked Vig to take care of the bird while he was in prison. He would do that for Chris, no doubt. Unlike his father, Vig would feed him snacks, take him hunting, and would play with him in the forest, just like now. Chris cringed internally as he remembered that the first time he truly felt guilt for leaving Eagly in the questionable care of his dad, the only better option he could think of was a hypothetical ugly chick. All he could think of now was how Vig, despite being neither ugly nor a chick, was ready to wait a lifetime just to hang out with Chris again. He shook off the treacherous warmth sneaking around in his chest and forced back the smile. They had shit to destroy. It would help.

 

On top of the kitchen appliances, a week or two earlier they got an old, broken down car, and left it here waiting for some company, 'cause of course it's no fun to just explode a car and then not follow up with anything else. Everyone knows that. It was shaping up to be a really good day, at least until that point.

 

They were running from the explosion, hooting and hollering like kids on a waterslide. For a good moment Chris didn't realize he was holding Vig's hand. He noticed Vig was looking down at something, looked down as well, saw their hands clasped together, looked back up at his masked up buddy whose visor was still pointing down. And then he dropped the hand he was holding like a hot potato.

 

They stared at each other for a moment in silence, after which, in the worst display of his inability to read the room ever, Vigilante reached down and held his hand again. Chris could imagine him smiling sheepishly under that mask.

 

Chris shook him off much more forcefully than he needed.

 

"Dude, what the hell," he said, very much aware that it was him who started the whole thing.

 

There was a beat of silence.

 

"I thought we were holding... hands?" Vig said, sounding a bit unsure.

 

Well, wasn't that just like him. Always assuming the most outlandish option was the correct one.

 

"No, we're not! Why would we ever?" Chris asked, despite having a pretty good idea as to why.

 

Vig held his hands up placatingly.

 

"It's okay, P. It's totally fine for BFFs to hold hands," he said with perfect confidence.

 

BFFs, right. If only it was as simple as Vig being silly. But Chris wasn't stupid and he wasn't blind, and deep down he knew that whatever Vig had going on was far beyond any BFF stuff Chris could think of. And it had to go on unacknowledged by Chris if he was to get his shit together and turn his life around. His father was gone (sort of), he had a team who trusted him (also sort of), he would finally stop killing people left and right (hopefully). He could be a real superhero, someone people looked up to. Someone worthy of the competent, cool, badass smokeshow that was Emilia Harcourt. He had a once-in-a-lifetime chance to escape the shit creek he was paddling up for as long as he could remember, and in that future there just wasn't a place for a socially incompetent homicidal maniac. Or for him to sappily gaze at said maniac playing with Eagly. Or accidentally holding his hand and thinking that maybe, maybe, it would be nice if the gloves were not in the way. Wait, did he really think that?

 

"No, it's not," said Chris. This was becoming more and more ridiculous and needed to be cut short as soon as possible.

 

Eagly doesn't even like her. A thought popped up in his head uninvited. And she doesn't like Eagly. Why the fuck is he thinking about this now, exactly? What did it matter? She barely started to like Chris, but that's okay because Chris had decades of experience being with people who didn't particularly like him. He could deal with that. If he worked hard and persevered, she would find something in him that made him worth it for her. What Chris had absolutely no idea how to deal with was being genuinely, unconditionally loved. But how was he supposed to admit that, even just to himself?

 

Vig laughed. Another thing Chris wasn't about to admit was that he actually liked his dorky laughter.

 

"Pfft, yeah! Are you trying to tell me all the children's media I consumed lied to me?"

 

Chris threw up his hands in exasperation. How do you even talk to this lunatic?

 

Right, because how was he supposed to talk to this confusingly hot dumbass who mostly lived inside his own head, didn't understand why killing people for misdemeanors was a bad idea, but was always kind to Chris and ready to risk literally everything at the drop of a hat for his sake?

 

"We are not children, V.!" He stressed every word of that, and boy, didn't he know it.

 

Vig let out a little impatient huff.

 

"I really don't see why you're so uptight about it," he said, a hint of a complaint in his tone. "You touched me in plenty of other places before and it was fine."

 

Of course he did. And a lot of those times he deliberately made it look like a mix-up, like it wasn't on purpose and actually, he never really even noticed it was Vig's shoulder he kissed or ass he squeezed. He wasn't about to tell him that, just as he wasn't about to tell him how easy it was for him to come if he only closed his eyes while jerking off and imagined Vig's stupid, perky ass under him, and Vig's stupid, freckled shoulder against his mouth. Fuck! Seriously? This is what you're thinking about right now?

 

"It was in a different context, and probably also an accident," he lied, trying to cover it up with irritation. Not that he needed any cover. Vig was gullible as mittens when it came to believing stuff Chris said. "And it's not important, what's important is that you need to stop being so creepy around me, dude."

 

"Bro, I'm not being creepy! Wait, am I?"

 

Chris didn't like himself particularly for saying that to Vig, especially once he saw him completely deflate at Chris' words.

 

"Sorry, I didn't know that," Vig said, sounding resigned. Chris didn't need his x-ray vision helmet to be sure that the little guilty wince was there under Vig's mask.

 

"Look, I know you don't know, I just- I don't want to give people ideas about us," he said. He was on a roll now, since Vig accepted it was his fault without question, and Chris tried his hardest not to think about how much of an asshole he was being to Vig at the moment. "Threesomes are fine and all, but I have a good thing going on right now - a team, a job that keeps me out of prison, maybe a chance to get together with Harcourt-" He caught himself looking for any visible reaction from Vig at those last words, but there was none. Wait, now you want him to care about that?  "I can't let all this," he gestured vaguely around Vig, "drag me down, okay?"

 

Vig stood there quietly for a moment.

 

"Okay," he said eventually, his voice flat and neutral. "I will try not to."

 

Fuck.

 

"Who'd've predicted, a faggot and a coward!" Auggie Smith was leaning back against the nearest tree, with his arms crossed and a nasty smirk on his face.

 

Chris went rigid, and scowled at the ghost. Or a hallucination. Whatever.

 

"Shut up!" he hissed under his breath.

 

"I didn't say anything," said Vig defensively.

 

Chris didn't want to double down on being an asshole, but there was no way in hell he was going to tell Vig about this. There was rock bottom, and then there was hanging out with Vigilante while feeling it's him who's less weird out of the two of you. In the end he didn't do anything to help with Vig's obvious confusion.

He just shrugged.

 

"Uhh, soo... there is a fridge to blow up!" Vig offered after a prolonged, awkward silence. "I already rigged the explosives, and it doesn't have freon inside, so it's totally safe to-" He made an exaggerated gesture indicating boom as he rambled.

 

"Nah, I'm good," said Chris, turning away. He just wasn't in the mood anymore. "I'm gonna head back."

 

He noticed Vig started immediately trailing after him.

 

"Why are you following me? I told you to stop being creepy!"

 

"Dude!" Vig threw his arms up in exasperation. "I drove you here!"

 

Shit.

 

***

 

Vig changed into his civvies before driving out, as always carefully putting away parts of his uniform. Chris reluctantly noticed he liked what the chest piece and pauldrons were doing for his shoulders.

 

As they drove, what previously didn't even register for Chris, now was an extremely unfortunate CD to be left in the car's player.

 

Come on, come on, come on, love is all over me

 

Seemingly oblivious, Adrian was lightly rocking out to the song, beating out the rhythm on the steering wheel with his fingers and mouthing the lyrics.

 

You are the only one, living in my fantasy, in my dreams

 

Suddenly feeling self-conscious as hell, Chris quickly reached and turned off the radio.

 

Adrian shot him a disappointed look.

 

"Wrong time?" he asked.

 

"Something like that," said Chris, looking away.

 

In the back seat of the old Sebring his dead father cackled like a wicked witch.

When they came back from the unfortunate outing, Eagly trundled up to Chris and pecked at the fabric of his pants.

 

"Sorry, buddy," Chris said with a heavy sigh. "I know you wanted to play some more. I will take you out later."

 

He was already feeling guilty about what amounted to gaslighting Adrian earlier. He wanted to be able to push some of that guilt off of himself and onto Adrian after all, for being so clingy and so easy to manipulate. Which - only made him feel worse. Was that really how he was supposed to become a better person?

 

A beer couldn't hurt, right?

 

He flopped onto the couch and started half-heartedly changing channels. He was this close to turning his brain off, when Eagly landed on him and pressed an empty packet into his hand. He took it, crinkled it between his fingers, and looked at the picture of the wolf on the front. Probably dog treats. He couldn't remember ever buying it, so probably something Adrian got for Eagly. Shit.

 

"Heyy, buddy," he said soothingly, as Eagly squawked and bumped his head against Chris' arm. "You liked those, okay, I get it, but I don't think we have any more in the trailer. I will get you chips, alright?" he said, but Eagly just cried out louder and beat his wings a little against Chris' chest.

 

Chris had no idea where Adrian got the treats Eagly suddenly liked so much. His hand was halfway towards his phone, when he realized he couldn't really call. He couldn't send Adrian mixed messages, not now. If he called, Adrian would be back on his old bullshit in seconds. He knew that from experience, because when it came to Chris, Adrian was apparently the world champion of forgiving and forgetting. Which, once again, only stoked the feeling of guilt deep inside Chris' guts.

 

Eagly looked at him expectantly.

 

"Sorry, Eagly," he said ruefully and scratched the bird's neck. "It's human stuff, you know? Next time I go get groceries, I will try to find you something like this."

 

Maybe he should call Ads, ask her for advice. But then, it was a day off, she was probably spending some quality time with her wife, and her fur kids, and her fucking happy, healthy marriage. The last thing she wanted was to deal with the progressively less sober pity party Chris was about to throw.

 

He needed something stronger to numb down the weird side effects of trying to do better. If that was him getting back on his feet and turning his life around, why did he feel like such a piece of shit? And why couldn't he get the confused, dejected look on Adrian's face out of his head?

 

"You're pining like a girl," said his dad, perched on top of an armchair. "Fucking waste of space."

 

"Eat my entire ass!" he yelled back at him. "The fuck do you know, you're dead!"

 

"Yet I'm still here, boy, going strong," Auggie Smith said smugly. "And you? You think anything will be left of you once you're dead?"

 

Chris had to say, however begrudgingly, it was a good question.

 

Would his memory haunt someone's waking hours if he died? Would anyone even miss him? Even noticed that he was gone?

 

Adrian would miss me, he thought.

 

"If I'm gone, then so are you, asshole," he said out loud. Talk about a bright side.

 

By any account, completely running out of booze during the weekend should have given Chris some clues as to what the consequences would be, and yet the Monday morning's hangover somehow still came as a surprise. On top of that crying a bunch left him with his throat raw and feeling like he got beaten about his chest with a rope.

 

He just about managed to slurp down the spicy egg concoction, when his phone buzzed. The 11th Street Kids chat popped up a new message from Harcourt.

 

Briefing in an hour, all hands.

 

***

 

Emilia Harcourt was not, in any way, shape, or form, having a good day. Sure, she just got the confirmation from A.R.G.U.S. HQ that their field office in Evergreen was on the books now, funding was approved, the new mission was a go. But that was before and now she was in the middle of a briefing so uncomfortable she was vaguely starting to wonder if she was still in the same reality as when she woke up today.

 

"Since the new objective is to flush out and apprehend the remnants of White Dragon's followers, and I cannot stress the apprehend part enough- Chase, are you listening?"

 

His eyes snapped back to her, with a bit of a deer-in-the-headlights expression.

 

"Yes, ma'am."

 

Who are you and what did you do with Chase? she was about to ask. The puppy was never this obedient out of the door.

 

"A-and... no objections from you?" she asked, a tiny grain of suspicion sprouting in her mind. I swear to god, if this behavior is about to have a punchline...

 

"Uh, no."

 

"You sure?"

 

"Yeah, totally."

 

She wasn't altogether certain if he really heard her, which was how she felt during about ninety five percent of their interactions. She was ready to deal with obnoxious man-children and her entire career prepared her for working with idiots, but this was something else. Chase seemed more squirelly than usual and kept nervously glancing at Smith every minute or so, which was rather unusual for a guy who's baseline was just constantly staring at Peacemaker like the literal sun was shining out of his ass.

 

Smith audibly scoffed.

 

This one in turn carefully avoided looking at Chase the entire time he was here. They even sat as far apart from each other as was physically possible at the table, which was also out of the ordinary for them. They were making the atmosphere here so dense you could very well cut it with a chainsaw. She wondered how much of a problem this was going to be further down the road. A hard to ignore ache was slowly building in her entire lower body, even in her good chair she got herself for this office and the last thing she needed was any kind of attitude from Smith.

 

She got up slowly, using her crutches, glaring down at him. She was already chronically frustrated by being relegated to an overwatch-type position by her injury, only able to observe as her comrades would risk their hides in the field, all while dealing with a constant background radiation of pain in her every conscious minute. She was itching for a fight at that point.

 

And, hell, normally Chris should be at least three inappropriate jokes deep by now, with that little enabler cracking up at each one of them like it was his job.

 

"You've got anything to add, Smith?" she asked, looking at him pointedly. She was well aware she was being shorter with him than necessary.

 

"Nope, I'm good," he said, casual in a way that felt nothing but forced.

 

She exhaled slowly and decided to drop it for the time being.

 

"We have three major leads as of now," she continued. "A string of bomb threats targeting local Planned Parenthood, possible connection of one of the Hoods to a meth lab that EPD can't or won't locate, and finally some worrying activities on a Telegram group used by a bunch of alt-right dipshits from Evergreen and the nearby area. We need to cover as much ground as possible, so I will need you on different tasks. For now, Economos is on the dipshits, Adebayo and-" She did a quick mental math of which one of them is less likely to run his mouth with off-color comments and more able to shut up and let Ads take the lead. "And Chase will go look around the PP - shut it, Smith! - and interview the staff. Both of you are going in your official capacity as A.R.G.U.S. Special Agents, so lose the tactical gimp suit for that one, Chase. I will be on the Chief of EPD's ass RE the cooking operation. It's been an absolute mess there ever since the whole department got butterflied. Once we have at least a general idea where to look, I want Peacemaker and Vigilante- yes, Chase, that means in costume- to scope out the area and report." She thought for a second about their current team dynamics. "Can I count on you two to work together on this one?" She directed the question mostly to Smith.

 

Chase said nothing, sitting quiet and stiff in his chair. Smith on the other hand visibly bristled at her words. He came to the briefing obviously hung over and she started to think that maybe she wasn't the only one looking for a fight today.

 

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" he asked defensively.

 

"It means I don't care what kind of lovers' spat the two of you are having, but fix your shit and deal with your issues before you come into work."

 

You want a fight? You'll get one.

 

"Oh-kay, I don't have any issues!" he said loudly, standing up with a jarring scrape of chair legs against the floor. "Maybe- Maybe you have issues!"

 

Is he for real?

 

"What kind of a kindergarten comeback even is that?" she asked incredulously.

 

"You know what? I don't have to take this shit from you!" He pointed at her angrily. "Call me when you actually have something for me to do!" he added, turned on his heel and left.

 

She stood in place, seething and catching her breath. She noticed Leota and John shared an uncomfortable look. The pain in her hip was enough to make her bite back tears.

 

Chase raised his hand. She realized he should have left right with Peacemaker, but he stayed instead, somehow managing to look like a kid watching his parents fight.

 

"Yes?"

 

"Is the briefing over?" he asked cautiously.

 

She sighed.

 

"Sure. Adebayo will join you in a second."

 

He nodded, and, eventually, got up. It didn't escape her notice he checked if Peacemaker was gone before he walked out the door himself.

 

She let out a long, shaky exhale.

 

"You okay?" Leota asked, visibly worried.

 

"Do you know anything about it?" Emilia asked her back, ignoring the question. "What's going on with Peacemaker?"

 

Leota shook her head.

 

"No idea. He doesn't tell me everything, you know?"

 

Emilia rubbed her forehead, feeling at once even more exhausted.

 

"How the fuck are we supposed to work like this?" she asked no one in particular. "How do we fix this?"

 

"You think they've broken up?" asked John, out of the blue.

 

She waved him off.

 

"I was just fucking with him, Economos, I don't think-"

 

"Are you seriously telling me you were never even the least bit curious what sort of fucked up situationship they have going on?" he asked with a ponderous, thoughtful expression.

 

"That would require me to think about Peacemaker's private life for longer than a second, so hard pass," she said testily. "Wait, you really think that's it?" she asked, hoping that one day she will be able to forget the word 'situationship' coming out of John's mouth.

 

John shrugged.

 

"Fuck if I know," he said.

 

"I could go talk to Chris," Leota offered.

 

Emilia shook her head.

 

"I can't ask you to do it, and I don't expect you to," she said.

 

"Okay, I know," Leota replied gently, with a slight nod.

 

Emilia felt a wave of new gratitude towards her colleague-slash-friend-maybe-question-mark?

 

"But work first," she said.

 

***

 

Chris was stomping away from their run-down haunt, unable to shake off the painful pounding between his ears. Why couldn't he just be normal instead of sabotaging every good thing he had right now? Why couldn't Adrian just be normal, instead of acting like Chris suddenly became a live grenade missing a pin? The temptation to blame everything on him was so strong, he could barely resist. It would be so easy to be angry at someone who wasn't Chris. And on top of that he acted like a douchebag toward the woman he claimed to want to get with, while she's in pain and recovering from injuries she sustained covering his ass in a fight. Maybe there was something lower than how he felt at the moment, but it would be impossible to get there without specialized equipment.

 

"So that's the bitch that has you by the balls these days?" His father was sitting on top of a dumpster. "Small miracle she even can, since you got less balls than a fixed dog!"

 

Chris kept on going without looking back.

 

Leota had a rocky start in this job, no doubt about it. But now? She was ready. She was committed. She was. On. Fire.

 

So the second she clocked Adrian's face move, she interjected.

 

"Thank you, doctor, that was very helpful!" She glanced at Adrian. "Chase, can you go bring the car around, please?" she asked, staying on top of damage control. She turned back to the doc. "Please call me if you remember anything relevant."

"Adrian..." she said with a touch of a warning in her voice as she got into the driver's seat.

 

He shot her a little questioning look.

 

"Adrian, were you about to try and convince the good doctor you're pregnant?" she asked, feeling about hundred percent done with this guy.

 

The look on his face turned to surprise.

 

"No! What? Nooo..." he lied so obviously, that Leota considered, if only for a second, not pointing it out, 'cause it just felt cruel.

 

"Really."

 

"Well, maybe I am! You don't know that!"

 

She shook her head and wondered if she should have grabbed some educational materials for him on her way out. It was too late to turn around now anyway. She knew the only reasonable thing to do was to drop the topic, but sometimes talking to Adrian was like scratching a fresh scab. She just couldn't help herself.

 

"How would that even work, man?" She laughed. "What, Peacemaker knocked you up?"

 

She regretted it immediately, as Adrian stiffened in his seat and quickly looked away.

 

Holy shit! So Economos was right? Holy shiiiiiiiiit!

 

That was a start, but she was pretty sure he would just clamp down like a clam if she started asking him about it now.

 

"I'm sorry, man," she said after a pause, not taking her eyes off the road.

 

"What for?" he asked, finally turning to her.

 

She gave him a short, sideways glance. He looked like a little frowny face emoji.

 

Jesus H. Christ, this guy is not just an open book, he's the big letter edition for old people!

 

"Y'know, I realize I never really apologized to you for setting you up to kill Chris' dad," she said cautiously.

 

"You did what?"

 

Uh-oh. So that maybe wasn't the smartest direction to steer this conversation towards.

 

"Wait, noo, you didn't," he answered himself.

 

"I did," she said, resigned.

 

"No, you just said he will never be happy with his dad around, so I decided this is something I could do for him, but that doesn't- Oh."

 

He looked at her again, longer this time, still the perfect image of a frowny face emoji.

 

"That's a really messed up thing to do to someone, Leota," he said, gut-punchingly sincere.

 

"I know," she replied. "That's why I'm apologizing."

 

And yet you're on the first name basis with me and pretty much no one else in the gang, she thought.

 

They drove in silence for several minutes. She contemplated turning on the radio or maybe putting on a podcast. She wondered what Adrian listened to - probably one of those actual play D&D podcasts, or something equally nerdy. She was almost about to ask, but Adrian beat her to it.

 

"Do you agree with Harcourt?" he asked, out of the blue. "About apprehending the Hoods," he added, seeing her confusion.

 

"Yeah, I mean what's there not to agree with?" she replied with a question. "Someone has to make sure The Evil Dad-" she grinned at him. Get it? "Doesn't have a successor, and it looks like we got the job. It's not that deep. It's not like Harcourt came up with it herself, it's just orders."

 

"Wouldn't you prefer they died?" he asked quietly, looking straight ahead.

 

She glanced at him, with just a touch of suspicion of where this was going next.

 

"Don't get me wrong, any of those motherfuckers croaks on their own, I'm not gonna cry, but... It's not some unfathomable, extraterrestrial threat to humanity. Those are just... people. Just really, really fucked up people."

 

"If they get put in prison, won't they just- spread?"

 

That gave her a pause. It was so easy to forget how much other folks who were not you had going on under the surface - and why would Adrian be an exception?

 

"Those neo-nazi types tend to be catty bitches," she tried to sound light-hearted. "Maybe they will put them all in one place and they will just tear each other's throats out within a couple of weeks?"

 

Adrian seemed sceptical, but said nothing.

 

"Look, man, I don't know what to tell you, but wondering what happens to them next is not part of the job. And believe me, I hate that."

 

He just nodded and said nothing for a while.

 

"It's okay," he added finally. "About you and Peacemaker's dad. I'm not angry at you."

 

"Oh-kaay..."

 

"It was for Chris after all, so it's fine," he said, avoiding her eyes again.

 

Of course. Everything is fine as long as it's for Chris.

 

She couldn't help but feel sympathy for him, especially knowing Chris. It was so strange - not that long ago she was able to think of him, and of Chris, as expendable, and now all she could see was his little frowny emoji face and his little broken heart. Don't you think it's a little unhealthy?, she wanted to ask, but man, it would be like handing an asthma inhaler to someone with collapsed lungs.

 

"If I asked you what's going on with you and Chris, would you tell me?" she asked instead.

 

"No."

 

"Okay, fair enough."

 

 

A quick sweep of the initial location revealed the Sebring parked a little off to the north.

 

"Shit, we gotta take it with us one way or another," said Ads. "We can't exactly let police find his car anywhere in this area."

 

"Yeah," Chris nodded in agreement. "Otherwise Economos will have to switch the name on the registration to Vig's dad."

 

Economos flipped him off.

 

"Oh, quit it, you two," Ads chimed in. "Worst case scenario, I can hotwire it,"

 

Chris stared at her for a second, but before he could ask her where did she learn how to do it, Ads was already setting off.

 

"Come on, Peacemaker. Let's go!"

 

There was only so long Chris could keep quiet for, as they trudged through the underbrush in the quickly falling dark.

 

"Any idea what could've happened?" he asked.

 

Ads shrugged. She was sweeping the ground directly ahead of them, careful not to raise the flashlight too high.

 

"Nope. I mean, we suspected someone was cooking meth in there, which means a lot of flammable materials, which, I guess could explode. No idea how much Vigilante had to do with it..."

 

"He really gets caught up in explosions too much these days," Chris shook his head.

 

"Yeah, no shit. What's up with that?"

 

"Well, we do blow stuff up in the forest sometimes-"

 

"You blow stuff up."

 

"Mhm. Mostly kitchen appliances. Fridges are fun. Dishwashers too."

 

Ads looked at him with concern.

 

"Do I want to know why?"

 

"For fun."

 

"Man, I'm just learning things left and right about the two of you today. No pings yet?"

 

"Nothing."

 

He was starting to get really worried now. As long as it hasn't disintegrated completely, Economos said. Fuck.

 

He noticed Ads looking at him.

 

"We'll find him, Chris," she said reassuringly. "And he's going to be fine. I've never seen a regular human bounce back as fast as Adrian does. Last time he got blown up with a grenade and shot, and couple days later I was hushing up the whole thing with the hospital, because apparently some patients got spooked by someone jumping out of the window. On the second floor."

 

Chris couldn't stop the slight, fond smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

 

"Yeah, he does that. He hates hospitals."

 

"Do you think we should split-" Ads started to ask just as the device in Chris' hands made a quiet peep.

 

Oh, thank God.

 

Chris started to run.

 

He couldn't tell if it was seconds or minutes later, when Ads, a little out of breath caught up to him and held him back by the arm.

 

"Stop running! Look!" she whispered.

 

The red lights of a fire truck flashed through the last line of trees ahead of them.

 

"I don't think we can go any further without running into them," she added.

 

"We don't need to," he whispered back. The screen was showing their destination away from the commotion.

 

The last stretch of the way seemed endless now, as they moved as quietly as possible, additionally slowed by darkness since Ads killed the light.

 

For a split second Chris' chest seized painfully when the tablet indicated they arrived at the right point and yet he couldn't see anything. And then Ads pointed to a dark shape slumped against the next tree over. She made a move to go there, but Chris was faster, already on his knees, taking off Vigilante's mask and checking his pulse.

 

Adrian's eyes fluttered half-open. He managed to focus on Chris and smiled.

 

"Oh. I'm happy you decided to come after all," he said weakly.

 

Chris let out a heavy sigh of relief. And he knew Adrian enough to know it wasn't sarcasm.

 

"Hey, buddy, nononono, stay with me!" Chris unsuccessfully tried to slap him awake, as Adrian's head lolled back down onto his shoulder.

 

Well, shit. Now Chris would have to carry him back.

 

He hauled Adrian up with a grunt - the guy was deceptively heavy. Or maybe he was sort of average, but Chris wasn't quite done reconciling them - Vigilante, Adrian, and the odd, scrawny kid that used to follow him and Gut around - as one person in his head.

 

He could just about fall over as they approached the van.

 

No one wasted any time - Chris found Adrian's keys on him, Ads split with them to retrieve his car, Economos put Harcourt on speaker as he started the van and stepped on it.

 

"We've got Vigilante, Ads took his car," he reported to Harcourt, still a bit out of breath. "He's mostly unconscious, on and off, we're going to Mount Rouge right now-"

 

"No, get him to the office."

 

Chris paused, dumbfounded.

 

"But..." he had a hard time getting his thoughts back on track. "He's hurt."

 

Now that he had a moment to sit down and take in the situation, it was clear Vig's suit was shredded with shrapnel and singed in places. With some delay, Chris started to notice Adrian's blood soaked through his own clothes.

 

"Economos will patch him up," said Harcourt, brisk and matter of fact. "We have an outrageously well stocked first aid kit in there exactly for occasions like this one."

 

"Emilia..." he tried.

 

"Don't you 'Emilia' me," she cut him off. "I can make it an order if you need."

 

He barely stopped himself from telling her where she can stuff her order. He couldn't wrap his head around why she was doing this. Was she trying to hurt Adrian? But that made no sense. Was it because of... him? Fuck it.

 

"Economos! You're going to Mount Rouge, you hear me?" he called out from his seat in the back of the van.

 

"Absolutely not!" He was about to drop the connection and threaten Economos if needed, when she added, "Peacemaker, do you want him to get into even more trouble than he is in now?"

 

"What do you mean?"

 

She sighed.

 

"It's a mess and I'll try to do as much damage control as I can. I promise I will tell you more when I'm sure what's going on, but right now you have to trust me. No hospitals unless he's actively dying."

 

He spent the rest of the ride exhausted, numb, and painfully uncertain if he made the right call. He kept holding Adrian on his side, who was time and time again drifting back into half-consciousness just enough to start hacking his lungs out. Chris wondered if it counted as actively dying yet.

 

Back at the office Ads had to physically drag him away to stop him from hovering over Economos and back-seat stitching.

 

"Hey, I'm not going to tell you to relax," she said. "I know it doesn't work that way. But just pissing off John will help no one. Come on, let's go get something to eat for everyone."

 

By the time they were back, Adrian was bandaged up and on a saline drip. Nobody needed to ask who will stay here for the night.

 

Finally alone, Chris leaned back in the chair and looked at Adrian, who was - hopefully - out on pain meds. Earlier, Chris had a glimpse of some of the burns on his chest and they definitely didn't look fun.

 

We just dragged this couch down here like a week ago, for a fucking movie night, he thought. Last time Adrian was on it, he was laughing too loudly and hogging all the popcorn.

 

He looked unsettlingly peaceful, and young. More than usual that is, what's with those twinkish, baby-faced looks he somehow still had despite pushing past thirty. Maybe that was the late puberty thing?

 

Now, from a right angle he could see someone he used to barely notice many years ago.

 

Adrian stirred, derailing Chris's train of thought. It took him a moment to take in his surroundings and focus his eyes on Chris.

 

"Are you okay?" Chris asked, stupidly, but he was too relieved to think straight.

 

Adrian grinned at him.

 

"'Tis but a scratch," he said like it meant something.

 

"How many fingers am I holding up?" Chris asked, a little panicked, because what if he was concussed? Did it warrant going to the hospital or not?

 

Adrian's expression turned to frustration.

 

"Bro, we just watched it!"

 

Okay, so maybe not concussed after all.

 

"Thanks for finding me," he added, much more softly.

 

Chris rubbed his hands against his face.

 

"I'm sorry," he said, not knowing if it's going to be enough. "I should have been there."

 

"It's okay," Adrian said in a way that almost felt like brushing him off. Why are you not taking this seriously? "You don't happen to have any food in here?" he asked hopefully.

 

"Actually..." Chris trailed off, as he brought a shopping bag full of what Ads assured him was all the best foods for when you're sick. He pulled out the first thing.

 

"Tapioca pudding, apparently?" he said, and squinted at the label. "I think it says 'taro flavor'."

 

Adrian chuckled as he took it from Chris and tore into the first cup.

 

He looked up and must have noticed Chris looking confused.

 

"It's like a potato-flavored potato pudding. It's funny."

 

"What the fuck is a potato pudding? And why potato?" he asked before he thought better of asking Adrian those kinds of questions.

 

"'Cause starch," Adrian said around a mouthful of dessert.

 

This time Chris thought better of it before he asked.

 

He watched Adrian devour food for a moment in silence.

 

Adrian glanced at him quickly.

 

"Stop looking so worried," he said. "I'm already feeling better."

 

"Are you?"

 

"Scout's honor."

 

Chris scoffed, but rather fondly.

 

"You were never a scout," he pointed out.

 

"True, but I am a ranger," Adrian replied.

 

Chris combed his mind for a second for what the hell it was supposed to mean.

 

"Wait, is that some of this nerdy bullshit you're into?"

 

"Well, since you've asked..."

 

If someone asked him hours ago, Chris would say he was going to get bored into a coma by this.

 

If someone asked him minutes ago, he would say he would look more or less in Adrian's direction and nod from time to time despite his brain shutting down, because he's determined to be a better friend.

 

But right now, Chris started to realize with quiet horror that he just got roped into genuinely listening to Adrian spout absolute nonsense, worse than someone trying to describe a weird dream they had. And not just listening.

 

"So, your character fights crime and has a pet eagle-"

 

"Not a pet, an animal companion. And it's a hawk."

 

"What's his name?"

 

"..."

 

Chris raised his eyebrows.

 

"Hawkey."

 

He couldn't help but burst into laughter. Adrian glared at him a little.

 

"Dude, you're literally playing me."

 

"No, I'm not," Adrian said, visibly miffed. "You're not a half-elf."

 

"A half-what?"

 

"Okay, so in D&D there are all those races-"

 

Chris couldn't let this opportunity fly past him.

 

"Wait, is it a racist game? Are you playing a racist game, Adrian?!"

 

"What? No! Alright, maybe it's a bit unfortunate terminology- Shut up! It's an old game, shut up!"

 

Chris, to his own surprise, was having a time of his life.

 

Adrian huffed with frustration.

 

"Think of it like, different species. Like you'd have humans, and neanderthals, and, and-"

 

"The super evloved chimpanzees from the Planet of the Apes?" Chris offered helpfully.

 

"Yes, exactly! But with elves."

 

And it went on like that.

 

It was a side of him that Vigilante never really shown to Chris. But Adrian's face lit up like a Christmas tree when he talked about it and Chris paid attention. Truth be told, he was cute as shit like this.

 

After some time of getting agitated, Adrian veered off into drowsy again. Chris helped him get to the toilet and awkwardly hesitated in front of the door.

 

"Dude, you don't have to hold my hair for me!" Adrian said before closing it, and Chris sniggered for who knows which time tonight.

 

Chris was sure Adrian finally drifted off into a nap, but then he spoke up again.

 

"Could you play me something?" he asked quietly.

 

How do you know... Chris was about to ask, but Adrian beat him to it.

 

"I heard you play the piano here once, that time before we went to kill the cow? I think it was something by Mötley Crüe? I didn't want to disturb you, so I waited outside, but... I really liked it. So, could you play something for me?" he added, almost shyly, looking away.

 

Chris hesitated. He didn't know anyone heard him and he didn't like the idea of exposing himself like this. But Adrian was injured because of him. And he was already being silly and embarrasing in front of Chris first.

 

Maybe it would be alright to indulge him. Maybe it would be like an adrenaline-fueled handjob after a particularly-bad-turned-particularly-successful patrol, that felt much more intimate than it had any right to be, but that was fine because they would never address it in any way after... Maybe it's like that, but with being emotional and embarrassing.

 

"Sure," he just said. "What do you want me to play?"

 

"Whatever you like."

 

Which is like, the worst possible answer you can get. What should he play? What would sound good on the piano? Maybe some ballad?

 

He sat down and struck a random chord.

 

What would make Adrian happy? Fuck. He was dogshit at playing by ear. But he could try, for Adrian. He just hoped he remembered the melody right.

 

When he got back to Adrian's side, his eyes were already closed.

 

"You still with me, buddy?" he asked, just to check.

 

"Thank you," Adrian's words came out a sleepy mumble. "Beautiful, 's like you." And just like that, he was out like a light.

 

Chris sat in his chair, unable to form a coherent thought. He's been called a lot of things in his life, but never beautiful. It would be nice to say he always waited for it, that hearing it made something fall into the right place in his soul. But it mostly felt as if Adrian told him that gravity just stopped working.

 

"Even a pussy like you could take him out right now," his father said, sitting on nothing in front of him. Chris almost choked on air.

 

"Fuck off," he hissed.

 

"You want redemption? Then get rid of this freak and make the world a better place. You said you'd stop him. Are you a liar now too?"

 

"I'm never listening to you again!" Chris was still trying to keep his volume down.

 

His father barked out a gleeful cackle.

 

"I'm not real, boy! The call's coming from inside the house! You know your life would be easier without him."

 

A wave of nausea washed over him. It wasn't true! It could never-

 

He forced himself to look at Adrian, at his exposed neck, his chest slowly rising and falling  under a blanket. Peaceful, trusting, safe because Chris was keeping watch. He couldn't find a single fiber in his being that wanted to harm his friend. Instead, he was overcome with a sudden urge to scoop him up in his arms and hide him from the rest of the world. 

 

Just until he gets better.

 

Right.

 

He looked at his father with a new clarity.

 

"You are scared of him," he noticed. "You're scared, because he took one look at your bullshit and knew exactly where you were weak."

 

Would his life be easier? Adrian was clingy, overbearing, and always around. If he wasn't all that, where Chris would be today? In an early grave, likely.

 

It's not a bug, it's a feature. Damn you, Ads.

 

"Both of you degenerates should be dead."

 

"But we aren't," he said, much more loudly than intended. "And guess what, dipshit? You're the one who's dead! And I won!"

 

He didn't realize how loud he was, until Adrian stirred again and groggily rubbed his eyes.

 

"Are you doing your face muscle excersizes?" he asked. "Or are you crying? Because it's really hard to tell those apart..."

 

Chris only now noticed his face was wet.

 

"There are no face muscle excersizes," he admitted, resigned.

 

He wasn't prepared for the look of pure shock on Adrian's face.

 

"But you said-"

 

"Bro, I lied, okay? I was crying that day, and I didn't want to look uncool in front of you, so I lied!"

 

"Why would I think that you were uncool just because you were crying?" He sounded genuinely confused.

 

Chris sighed.

 

"Maybe you are more secure in your masculinity than I am," he said with a heavy heart.

 

Adrian chuckled nervously.

 

"I wouldn't go that far." He paused for a prolonged, awkward moment. "Was that your dad?" he asked.

 

Chris just stared at him for a while.

 

"How do you know-" he said quietly.

 

Adrian shrugged.

 

"Ever since you killed your dad, you keep talking to someone who's not there, and it sounded like it could have been him. Or maybe someone completely unrelated, just equally shitty."

 

Chris couldn't bring himself to say anything.

 

"Wait, is this a ghost situation?" Adrian continued obliviously. "Are you haunted? 'Cause if so, we're gonna have to call someone..."

 

"Dude," Chris shook his head in disbelief. "It's not a ghost, there is no such thing as ghosts!" He paused. "I think it's just like, a really stubborn memory."

 

Adrian let out a long sigh of relief.

 

"Well, that would be an awkward way to learn ghosts are real..."

 

They sat for a moment in silence, and Chris could see clear as day Adrian was fighting the urge to ask. He watched him lose that fight in real time.

 

"So is he like, always around?"

 

"No, just sometimes." He hesitated for a second. "I think he comes out when I'm shaken, or just feel bad."

 

"Oh." Adrian looked at him thoughtfully. "Have you tried making him leave?"

 

"Yeah, he doesn't listen to me."

 

"Have you tried bullying him into leaving?" Adrian offered helpfully.

 

Chris' eyes snapped back to him with renewed interest. Maybe Adrian was onto something?

 

"How do you bully a memory?" he asked.

 

"I don't know? A lot of people get really uncomfortable with public displays of affection."

 

Chris narrowed his eyes with suspicion. Why is this the first thing you propose? But Adrian looked like an image of perfect innocence and lack of self-awareness.

 

And what would it hurt? At worst it would become a round of gay chicken they could laugh about later. And at best- Maybe it would be fun? Come to think of it, Adrian did have really pretty lips. He wondered for a second what they would look like around his- Fuck! No! Wrong time!

 

"Want to help me out with that?" he asked, half jokingly for plausible deniability in case Adrian wasn't into it.

 

Adrian's eyes went wide, and it was hard to tell in the dim light, but- Was he blushing? Holy shit!

 

"Whatever you need," he said, a little breathlessly.

 

Don't say shit like that to me, Chris thought. If you say whatever, I will hear everything.

 

Oh well, not a chicken then.

 

He leaned in, with one hand on Adrian's cheek. He rubbed his thumb against that litle mole on his cheekbone. He wasn't about to half-ass it. This had to be good.

 

Adrian looked at him expectantly, with his mouth already opened a little in a wordless invitation.

 

Chris wasn't sure what he expected exactly. For Adrian to be hesitant, shy, starstruck? For Chris to need to coax him into a sweet, drawn-out, gentle kiss?

 

What he definitely didn't expect was for Adrian to hungrily lick into him the second their lips met.

 

Startled, Chris pulled away much too soon and Adrian tried to follow his mouth with his own until he stopped suddenly and fell back on the couch with a painful groan.

 

"Don't pull your stitches on my account," he said, because it was easier than addressing the fact he just got spooked by a little bit of tongue.

 

"Wouldn't be the first time, won't be the last," Adrian said philosophically, and Chris decided not to think too hard about it.

 

In a second, Adrian's face fell.

 

"I'm sorry, was it that bad?" he asked, seeming genuinely worried. "I swear, I wasn't trying to be creepy, I just thought this may be my one last chance to kiss you before Harcourt realizes what she's been missing out on and I got carried away, I'm so sorry-" He was slowly working himself into a panic, so Chris reached and cupped his cheeks in his hands.

 

"Bro, look at me," he asked, as calmly as he could. "You were great, don't worry about anything." He hesitated. "Want to give it another go?"

 

Adrian's face immediately lit up, as he nodded emphatically.

 

Second time's a charm as it turned out. Adrian was still a bit overly enthusiastic, but now Chris had the wherewithal to notice the small things. Like how soft, if a little chapped, his lips were. How he tasted mostly of the awful electrolyte drink Chris made him drink earlier in case the IV wasn't enough. The little strangled noise at the back of his throat he made when Chris run his fingers through his hair right above his neck. This time Chris left Adrian flushed and a little dazed, and felt better about himself.

 

After a moment Adrian looked around like he expected to see someone.

 

"Did it work?" his voice dropped to an unnecessary whisper.

 

Chris looked around as well. To be honest, he completely forgot why they were kissing in the first place.

 

"I think so?" he said, since dad was nowhere to be seen.

 

Adrian shot him a blinding smile, which then turned to hesitation, followed by an uncertain grin.

 

"If you ever need more help with that, just say the word!" He laughed nervously.

 

It must have been a good day for bad decisions, Chris thought later.

 

"Or we could kiss again just because it's fun," he heard himself say out loud.

 

He'd swear Adrian just started to sparkle.

Still getting his breathing under control, Chris looked to the side, only to be met with Adrian's goofy, blissed-out grin. He would never be prepared for the absurd ocean of adoration that were Adrian's eyes.

 

Despite his best efforts all he could think of was how he did nothing in his life to deserve being looked at like this and that he probably never would. Only moments ago he would swear he never felt happier in his life, with Adrian under him being tight and hot, a wet dream come to life that he couldn't get enough of. Now when the euphoria was dying down, he mostly just felt uncomfortable. This part was so much easier when the other person didn't really care for him and he didn't expect much in return.

 

Maybe it was simply a matter of proximity? It was harder to overthink things when your body was busy.

 

He wrapped his arms around and hauled up Adrian's dead weight almost entirely on top of himself.

 

"C'mere, sweetcheeks," he muttered.

 

Adrian beamed at him with the intensity unwarranted by a throw-away endearment.

 

"You really think so?" he asked excitedly.

 

"Yeah... Why wouldn't I?" Chris replied, once again feeling thrown off.

 

"You did say I have a skinny face-"

 

Oh, right.

 

"Bro, what are you, ten?" He laughed. "'Sweetcheeks' is your butt. Everyone knows that," he added.

 

Adrian looked up, clearly mulling something over. Then his brilliant smile was back.

 

"Well, I do have a nice butt."

 

"Yeah, you do," Chris agreed, and squeezed two solid handfuls just for emphasis, drawing a dorky little giggle out of Adrian in the process.

 

Since it seemed to be working, he reached for Adrian's mouth with his own and was met halfway by an eager, messy kiss.

 

Eventually Adrian settled under Chris' arm, his body solid, radiating heat, plastered to Chris' side. Chris felt a little gross, a little sticky, a little perfect. The den of scorpions fell quiet for a moment.

 

But only for a moment. There was still a part of him that couldn't stop treating Adrian's devotion, his loud, shameless desire for Chris' entire person as something like a mockery. It was different than bragging, exaggerating how much other people were into him. It was real, and as such - scary. And Chris was apparently hell-bent on making it worse.

 

"Why-" He paused. What was he even trying to ask about? Why do you like me? couldn't even pass his lips. "Why did you want to hang out with me, after you became Vigilante?" he settled on instead.

 

Adrian seemed to ponder it for a second or two.

 

"I guess, at first I just wanted to be everything you already were," he said, serious and sincere. "And then I got to know you better, in a way I could never get to before as, you know, me- And I wanted to stick around. You made everything fun and better. It was easier to be alive when I knew we would meet up at the end of the day."

 

Chris felt a trecherous tightness around his throat. Fuck, the last thing he needed now was to start crying.

 

"But, why?" He couldn't stop himself from digging further into that wound. "I was such an asshole to you when we were kids."

 

Well, when you were a kid and I was supposed to be enough of an adult to join the Army and get my first job killing people for the government, he thought bitterly.

 

Adrian looked at him with surprise plain all over his face.

 

"But you were an asshole to everyone. It wasn't super great, but in a way it made me feel like, one of the guys. Gut was an asshole too, but that was just because I embarrassed him. He would then turn around and suck up to you, but you never singled me out. I think it would be worse if you were an asshole to everyone else and weirdly nice to me." He frowned. "There is nothing worse than pity."

 

Chris took a deep breath and ruffled Adrian's already mussed hair. He thought he could get used to doing that more.

 

"There are so many things that are worse than pity, Adrian," he said. "But I get where you're coming from. Still doesn't make it right. I should have been better to you, I should have been, I don't know, the older brother that Gut couldn't, I guess. I had a chance and I didn't take it," he said ruefully.

 

"I'm actually kind of glad you didn't," Adrian said, with a little worrying glint in his eye. "Because it would make our current situation extremely awkward," he said and pecked at the edge of Chris' jaw to reinforce his point.

 

"You're probably right," Chris couldn't help but chuckle. "Still, I keep feeling weird about it."

 

"Dude, I told you to cut it out with the introspection!" Adrian said, frustrated, and poked at Chris' chest. "And you're doing it again."

 

"Yep."

 

With an impatient huff, Adrian found a bit of leverage and pushed at Chris to make him roll to his side. Chris obliged without thinking but then did a mental backtrack as he felt Adrian body pressed against his back.

 

"What are you doing?" he asked suspiciously.

 

"Spooning."

 

"And I am the little spoon?" Chris laughed incredulously.

 

Adrian peered at him over his shoulder.

 

"This has nothing to do with your size. Everybody needs to be the little spoon from time to time," he said authoritatively. "Dude, it's just facts."

 

Adrian's hand slipped around his waist, up his chest and stayed there, firm and reassuring. Chris could feel Adrian's breath on the back of his neck.

 

A part of him, the part he didn't like very much, kept prodding at him to get out of bed right now and yell at Adrian that he didn't need to be protected from anything and to stop being such a moron. At the same time he knew well enough it would make him not just a giant douchebag but also a hypocrite, given how many times Adrian put himself in danger for Chris' sake. The really disquieting part was he kept doing it without a second thought and without as much as a 'thank you' from Chris.

 

It took him some time to even just unclench the muscles in his shoulders. Adrian kept holding him, and the sensation was that of being lovingly embraced by an open furnace. Oddly enough, it felt so safe - in a way Chris never suspected was possible.

 

Chris was so used to vying for affection of people who would never cherish him, so used to surviving on scraps and crumbs of intimacy to a point when a stranger letting him fuck them felt like a smile from the Almighty. But it was familiar and he could cope with that. He hadn't had the slightest idea what to do with Adrian.

 

It was an unpleasant notion to confront - that Chris already had someone he liked, someone who knew and got him, someone who was into him unapologetically and without reservations, and Chris was wasting time denying himself that for no good reason.

 

He took Adrian's hand and pressed a kiss into its palm. He heard a little gasp behind him and grinned - still, it was nice to have that effect on someone.

 

Maybe not that much had to change. Maybe just having Adrian's back and not lying to himself would be enough. Maybe there was no need to force either of them into molds that clearly didn't fit. His chest felt so full with things he barely had a name for, he feared it was about to burst.

 

"Shit," he whispered under his breath.

 

"What?"

 

And here he hoped Adrian was already asleep.

 

"Nothing, don't worry about it. Just remembered something Ads said about feeling your chest getting all warm and mushy on the inside," Chris said quietly.

 

"Mhm. Mustard gas will do that to you," he muttered sleepily against Chris' skin.

 

***

 

"So... Has your dad been around lately?" Adrian asked cautiously over breakfast.

 

Chris considered how much of 'lately' wouldn't be a lie.

 

"Haven't seen him today," he said as casually as he could. "I even tried checking," he grinned. "I was like, 'any dead nazi fucks want to stick around for some hot superhero on superhero action?' and I guess they didn't."

 

Surprisingly, Adrian's face fell at that.

 

"Oh." He paused. "Are you having someone over?" he asked, clearly trying to sound like it's no big deal. "Is it Aquaman?"

 

Chris looked at him, confused.

 

"Why- What? Why the fuck would I invite Aquaman over?"

 

'Well," said Adrian, avoiding his eyes. "You said 'superhero on superhero'..."

 

Oh, fuck me.

 

"I meant you, dumbass."

 

"You think I'm a superhero?" Adrian asked, with eyes wide and a hard to decipher expression on his face.

 

Did he? He looked at Adrian, who was sitting on the kitchen counter - in a place Chris started to think of as his - seemingly shaken by the possibility. He saw a scarily efficient, ruthless killer. He saw a sweet, easy-going goof. He saw someone he owed his life several times over to, and he had to reconcile all those realities somehow. Maybe sometimes you just had to put your faith in someone and give them a chance to prove you right? It definitely felt worth it when it came to Adrian.

 

"You are to me," he said simply.

 

"Because, you know, according to Reddit the jury is still out on that one!" he said with an awkward, nervous chuckle, got off the counter and left the room without another word. Seconds later Chris heard a heavily muffled, high pitched sound coming from his bedroom.

 

***

 

Emilia briefly considered handing in her resignation in order to start running a dog shelter, as she faced Chase, sitting opposite her desk, clearly uncomfortable and with a slightly worried expression on his face. He was in his civilian clothes - which meant he was dressed like the world's most boring middle-aged suburban dad. Thankfully so, since she made a private note he was a lot less of an obnoxious cunt when he wasn't wearing a mask.

 

"Do you want to tell me what you did wrong during your last mission?" she asked.

 

"Not particularly, no," he said pleasantly.

 

Emilia pinched the bridge of her nose. Well, that one was on her.

 

"Please tell me what you did wrong during your last mission," she rephrased.

 

"Probably shouldn't have gotten so close to the location during a simple stake-out," he said.

 

Emilia nodded.

 

"And even earlier?"

 

Chase seemed to be actually giving it a thought.

 

"I shouldn't go without backup? Oh, I know that one, I should have gone and picked up Peacemaker myself instead of giving up when I couldn't reach him."

 

"Wrong answer."

 

"What?" he asked, surprised.

 

"The moment you couldn't reach Smith, you should have reported back to me. It's my responsibility to make sure everyone is in place, and when you pull shit like this it makes me think you don't trust me. And whether you don't trust me enough to follow orders or don't trust me enough to tell me you cannot follow  orders, either way it will end in mission failure."

 

Chase was quiet for a second.

 

"I didn't want to look like I couldn't do it on my own," he said eventually, looking down at his hands.

 

"I suspected as much. But nobody expects you to do everything on your own. You're already on our payroll and in the group photos, you need to start thinking like you are a part of a team as well."

 

He nodded.

 

"Were you at least able to spot the guy we were looking for?"

 

"Yup."

 

"Anything that would identify him as a follower, clothes, tatoos..?"

 

"Couldn't see anything like that."

 

She tapped her fingers against the desk.

 

"Alright, so maybe we lost a valuable lead or maybe we didn't. Good thing we didn't lose you as well in that terrible accident." She looked for any confusion on his part, but couldn't see any. "Did you catch any clues as to what might have caused it?"

 

"Someone mislabeled red phosphorus?" he offered after a bit of thought.

 

"Oh well, who knows," she said. "This is the part where I'm telling you you fucked up and not to do that again, so consider yourself officially told. I think I have what I need for now."

 

He got up and made a move to leave.

 

And here she was supposed to be a leader now. Fuck.

 

"Don't make a desert, Adrian," she said. Maybe that would get his attention. She never called him by his first name, not since the night he cried in her car as she drove him home from jail.

 

He stopped in his tracks and looked at her intently.

 

"Okay, I have to ask, do you happen to pronounce the word 'dessert' really weird? Because, honestly, I never noticed before," he said.

 

"I meant desert, as in 'empty place'," she said. "It was something supposedly said about ancient Romans - 'they made a desert and called it peace'. That vow of his? It's not a sustainable strategy. The only way to make sure you have perfect peace and no one breaks any laws is to kill everyone, and even then the last one standing will be a murderer."

 

He looked at her with that blank expression of his that always made her question if he even heard what she was saying. Well, time to get the hammer.

 

"Look, you're smart- Okay, you're selectively dumb about some things, but when it comes to combat specifically, you're brilliant. So going forward I will simply not accept that you really cannot differentiate between a true life-or-death situation and an inconvenience. I'm not sure how can I drive the point home even more, Chase, but if you leave a trail of bodies that leads to us, if the bosses of our bosses decide you're more trouble than you're worth, if you do anything to endanger the success of this operation- If we fail, maybe I will lose my job, maybe Ads will too, but that's just life, we will move on. Economos, ehh, he's probably safe. But if Chris loses this job, don't think even for a second he will not land right back in Belle Reve, and as far as I know, they don't do conjugal visits in there."

 

That at least seemed to have an impact, judging from his face.

 

"You can go," she added.

 

***

 

Chris couldn't see Adrian well from his vantage point outside of Harcourt's partition, so he spent the entire time uselessly fretting.

 

He sat upright as Adrian finally came out of there, not looking worse for wear as far as Chris could tell.

 

"How was the principal's office?" Economos asked from behind his desk.

 

Adrian frowned.

 

"How should I know? I wasn't there in at least... fifteen years?" he replied, a little indignantly.

 

Jesus Christ, does Economos still not know who he's talking to?

 

"He meant 'how was the debriefing', Adrian," he explained.

 

"Oh," Adrian looked surprised. "Why didn't you just say so? It was okay," he added and smiled. "Harcourt said I'm smart."

 

"In what context?" Ads asked cautiously.

 

"Combat," he said.

 

She made a face and nodded like, yeah, that tracks.

 

"And that I should work on being a team player," Adrian added absentmindedly. He looked at his phone. "Oh, darn it," he said. "I have a shift in half an hour. Bye, everyone! Bye, Chris!"

 

"Bye, Chris!" Ads parroted with a fond mockery the moment Adrian was out the door. Chris flipped her off and followed Adrian outside.

 

"Did I forget something?" Adrian asked when Chris caught up to him.

 

"No, I just-" Yeah, what was he trying to do? "I just wanted to make sure you are okay," he said, realizing how silly it sounded.

 

But Adrian wasn't looking at him with disdain.

 

"That's very sweet," he flashed him a bright smile. "But you don't have to worry so much. I didn't suddenly become helpless just because we had sex."

 

Before Chris could come up with any kind of reply, Adrian looked around and quickly kissed his cheek.

 

"Don't worry, I won't get you into any more trouble, I promise," he whispered, and left Chris stumped and confused outside their field HQ.

 

Chris walked back straight to Harcourt.

 

"Oh, sure, you can come in, I'm not busy or anything," she deadpanned.

 

"Am I..." He hesitated. He came here on a hunch and an impulse and now he wasn't entirely clear what he wanted from this interaction. "Am I in some kind of trouble?" he asked, a little incredulously.

Harcourt seemed surprised.

 

"Not more than usually. Why?"

 

Oh, shit. This was going to sound stupid.

 

"Well, just something Adrian said, about getting me in trouble, I guess?"

 

Harcourt rubbed her face with both hands. She looked exhausted.

 

"Fuck it, you might as well know. I told Vigilante that if he keeps being a loose cannon and this operation fails because of him, you will go back to prison."

 

Not that he never considered the possibility, but what the hell?

 

"Will I?" he asked, shaken.

 

"No idea." She shrugged.

 

He let out a long, frustrated exhale.

 

"What the fuck, Harcourt?" He frowned. "I know he's easily led, but you people can't keep manipulating him like this!"

 

"Oh, get off your high horse, Smith! Like you've never done it yourself."

 

It's different, he wanted to say. But if he truly was to stop lying to himslf, he had to admit, it really wasn't.

 

"Maybe, but I'm trying to be better about it," he said instead.

 

"And I will be better about it too," she said. "The moment I can fucking afford it!" She stared him down. "I told you, I would get him on the team on the one condition that you keep an eye on him in the field. So why didn't you?"

 

He didn't have a good answer to that.

 

"The whole thing kind of... got away from me?" He tried to look sufficiently apologetic.

 

Apparently she wasn't about to get off his case just yet.

 

"You had one job, and it was to stop the puppy from peeing on the carpet. And what did he do?" she asked sternly.

 

"Went ahead and peed on the carpet," he said, resigned. "And please stop calling him that, it's really weird," he added.

 

"If you make me do your job for you," she said ignoring that last part. "Don't come crying to me that my methods are not subtle enough for your taste." Her features softened slightly. "Everyone has a lever and you happen to be his. Believe me, I was being gentle with him," she added.

 

He said nothing, angry at her, and angry at the fact that she was, most likely, right. Not sure what to do with all this frustration, he made a split second decision to get stupid.

 

"Sure. By the way, we banged last night. Adrian and I," he clarified, as if she would suspect he meant someone else. "Thought you might be happy I took your advice."

 

She looked at him blankly.

 

"I had absolutely no need to know that," she said.

 

"Hey, you don't like my equal opportunity bragging, talk to Ads. She pointed out to me I don't do that enough," he kept digging himself in even deeper.

 

There was an almost imperceptible change somewhere behind her eyes, and he was yet to realize how much he was going to regret it.

 

"No, you know what?" she said. "I am happy. I think you're perfect for each other."

 

"Tha-anks...?" he said uncertainly, thrown off by this sudden turn.

 

"I probably wouldn't see it like that not long ago, but I do think you two are about equally annoying."

 

"Okay, now-"

 

"And the sheer amount of red flags between the two of you?" she cut him off. "You could put a May Day parade in USSR to shame. Honestly, if it prevents both of you yahoos from dating anyone else, it should count as community service. Maybe they will even take some time off from your sentence for that. Although I think about it more as containment. A quarantine, if you will..."

 

Great, so he unwittingly triggered her scorched earth tactics and now was just being roasted alive.

 

"Alright, I'm gonna go now," he said gesturing towards the door.

 

"You sure you don't want to stay?" she asked innocently. "I can go on like this for another five minutes at the very least."

 

"I'm good. Great chat, Harcourt," he said and left.

 

He wandered over to Ads doing something on her laptop and sat down next to her with a heavy sigh.

 

She glanced at him from her work.

 

"Chris, you know that when you do this, I have to ask what's wrong?" she asked.

 

"I know," he admitted.

 

"Oh boy."

 

"How do you do this, Ads?" he asked. "You make it look so easy."

 

"How do I do what?" she asked suspiciously.

 

"You know, your marriage. Relationships."

 

She looked at him a little incredulously.

 

"Man, what are you talking about? None of it is easy. All relationships are work, on both sides. But then, I guess it kind of is easy, because it's worth it when you love someone."

 

Why did she have to come out with the L-word right out the door? He already started to regret asking.

 

"'Love' is such a loaded word..."

 

She fixed him with an impatient glare.

 

"You know what, Chris? You're a big boy, figure that one out for yourself," she said and went back to work.

 

***

 

Back at his trailer Chris was sitting on the porch, mulling over how much has happened since... hell, it was less than a week. He knew he would need a lot more time to process all that - right now he simply felt overwhelmed. The only thing he could think of doing that seemed appealing in any way was to just lose himself in Adrian and stop thinking about anything at all. Which probably wasn't a good long-term strategy, but he would burn that bridge when he got to it.

 

Somewhere high above the trailer park, Eagly cried out.

 

Who could have imagined everything started because of, what? Blowing up that old car? He realized that they never really finished that day.

 

He texted Adrian.

 

***

 

Creatively destroying old junk was an excellent weekend activity and Chris was always of the opinion that you shouldn't fix it if it's not broken. And if it's broken, why not blow it up with a grenade?

 

Something must have went wrong. Maybe Vig messed up with the explosives. Maybe it was the fuse. Because, of course there was a fuse. Blowing stuff up with a remote detonator was just so anticlimactic, and didn't allow for playing fuse chicken. Maybe they were doing just that for too long.

 

Either way, it was too late to run when Chris felt the familiar prickle of looming danger and made a split second decision to tackle Vig to the ground.

 

Which turned out to be a good decision, as in the next split second the fridge door whizzed right over their heads and crashed into a tree.

 

A moment of breathless silence exploded into a holy-shit-what-did-just-happen kind of laughter. Vig, still on the ground, hooted with delight. Chris dragged the bottom of his mask up enough to expose his mouth, and, pressing him into the dirt of the forest floor, kissed his laughing face while the fridge burned behind them.

 

I should've done this a lot sooner, he thought.