covers of a book.

[goodfight]

Somewhere in that long journey back to the Mojave, in that broken and dusty old road, Alex had mentioned a book. There was nothing particularly descriptive in his utterance, nothing that would have a guy running to the local rundown library for it, but it was enough to stick in Neil's thoughts.

Thus, when he "serendipitously" caught sight of the book in a merchant's stock somewhere in Nebraska, he snatched it up. He tucked it carefully away in his pack.

And now, a day later with the sun sitting highest in the sky, while Alex and ED-E are up ahead scouting the area, Neil slips the book into Alex's pack, in a place the other man would find easily. He straightens from his task, a small grin playing on his lips, before he notes that Dogmeat is staring at him in curiosity.

"Not a word," Neil tells his mutt.

Dogmeat wags his tail, as if excited about the prospect of a secret.

Comments

[doubletap]

It isn't until the next morning that he notices. His pack is nearly full to the brim, so the fact of another item escapes his notice. Until he's fishing for a different ammo that he swore he had, so he nearly dumps out everything to hunt for it, and--

"What the hell." Dogmeat sniffs at the pile of stuff that Alex has emptied, as the man himself is crouched down by it all. A book is in his hands, and he thinks it's familiar. Familiar if only because it isn't, because he had only heard of the one book Robert House had written. Theoretical Robotics. One hundred copies only, one published run, and that was it. Alex has never seen hide nor hair of it.

The man stands slowly, book still in hand. "Neil," he says, sounding like he's in shock. "What... Where did this come from?"

[goodfight]

Neil hasn't been waiting patiently for this moment at all. Nor has he been practicing his response should Alex make a "serendipitous" discovery. No, he's just sitting by the fire, calmly eating his breakfast like he has a million times before. A perfect innocent specimen.

Thus, when Alex stands with a book in his hand, Neil looks up from his bowl of Sugar Bombs and milk and shrugs, decidedly ignoring the rush of adrenaline coursing through his blood.

"Dunno," he says casually, mouth full of cereal. "Isn't that yours?"

[doubletap]

Alex moves his gaze from the book's cover to Neil, and watches as the kid gives nonchalance. Alex stares, completely still giving shock.

Then storms over and hits Neil with the damn book.

"No, it's not fucking mine, asshole. I told you the other day how I've never been able to find it."

[goodfight]

And the answer to Neil's question is given in violence. He raises a hand over his head to block further blows, his other hand protecting his precious cereal.

"Ow! Fuck! What the hell is the matter with you!?" He shoots Alex a very dirty look. "It's not my fault you can't keep track of your stuff!"

[doubletap]

What the matter is that Alex doesn't handle gifts well, especially when someone is being a coy asshole about it. He goes to raise the book again, then lowers it, his hand visibly shaking. Pain crosses his face.

"...Take it," he forces out, holding the book out. "Sell it, return it. It's way too expensive for you to..." To... To what?

"...It's not mine," he mutters unhappily, eyes dropping.

[goodfight]

Rage strikes hard and true, but somewhere in the mess of responses, Neil gets it. He should have gotten that Alex was a horrible receiver of gifts earlier.

Instead of snapping back, the man sighs and then shakes his head. "It ain't mine either," he gives patiently. "You do what you want with the book."

[doubletap]

"You bought it," he mutters unhappily. "Or stole it. It's yours."

Because he didn't think ED-E or Meat got it for him. Or it fell into his pack.

[goodfight]

Jesus. Neil had wanted to get Alex the damn book without the pomp and circumstance, but it seems that is unavoidable. Especially when Alex looks like he got whipped with the depression belt.

Neil watches him for long minute, apathy taking hold. "I bought it for 2 caps. The guy didn't know what he had." He inhales sharply. "I'm not into robotics. You are, Alex, so keep it."

Take it. Do whatever the fuck you want with it.

[doubletap]

"I'm not into..." Anything like that. The denial sits on his tongue, and without warning, ED-E makes a very loud rude noise.

Startled, Alex looks over to him, and ED-E shoots off a quick tirade of beeps that Neil would recognize as admonishment. Like a parent scolding a child.

For his part, Alex looks thoroughly battered, beaten by an eight-year-old eyebot. He sighs quietly, holding the book to his chest with one arm, then leans down to press his face against Neil's shoulder. "...I mean, thank you," he says, voice barely louder than a whisper.

Annoyed, ED-E gives a muttering beep and goes to find better company (aka Dogmeat).

[goodfight]

Alex attempts denial, and ED-E... The kid goes off angrily, in a manner that Neil has smiling. Understanding somewhat. They've bonded a bit in Point Lookout, allowing the man a better insight into the eyebot's mind.

The smile disappears, however, when Alex relents, slipping his head to rest on Neil's shoulder. Neil reaches, rests a hand on the other man's back.

"You're welcome," he murmurs.

[doubletap]

"I'm bad with surprises," he says miserably into Neil's shoulder. Obviously.

"Why didn't you just toss it at me instead of sneaking it?"

[goodfight]

What an understatement. Neil moves his hand, petting the curve of Alex's back.

"Didn't want credit." Didn't want to deal with gratitude. "Just wanted you to have it."

[doubletap]

"So weird," he mutters, still unhappy. "Don't we give things to each other all the time?" Ammo, food, weapons, everything. Why is this different?

[goodfight]

"Things," echoes Neil. "Small comforts." Ammo, food, weapons, everything. That book-- "That book ain't a small comfort. It means something to you, and I just wanted you to have it."

[doubletap]

He drops to sit next to Neil finally, close enough so their thighs are touching. "It's just a book," he says weakly. "Not important in the scheme of things."

Hobbies, interests, all of that doesn't matter when you need to fight for life. Ammo and weapons... That's all that's allowed. Other stuff.... That stuff makes you a person in a world where you need to be something else.

Excuses. All excuses.

"...Seems silly in the big picture. Like wanting a hat." Or a dress. He thinks of Veronica.

Of Christine. Of wanting love for love's own sake, and the madness that not meshing completely can do. This right here. It wasn't something for Alex to live on, but a gift for a gift's own sake. Something for Alex, from someone who knows him. This is communication. This is someone saying--

"But this is your way of saying I love you, isn't it?"

[goodfight]

It's a noise of acknowledgment that falls from Neil's lips, soft and faltering. The pair of them are close enough to touch, and he could simply lean to one side to separate. Tilt toward the other side to press them together.

Neil stays as he is. He thinks of the big picture, the scheme of things, and the man gives an airy smile, leaning back to take in a better view of the morning sky.

"A book does seem silly in this world," says Neil, "as does love. But there it is."

There it fucking is.

[doubletap]

The worn book is cuddled to his chest, and he leans where Neil wouldn't. Rests against this person as he had never had a chance before.

He begs for normality, and his tone somewhat complies. "...You're going to keep doing this, aren't you? First that geography book that 'we must have picked up somewhere', and now this." Which is a bit more. But both of them told the same story. Alex speaks, and Neil actually listens. Leaving Illinois, Alex had complained about his lack of knowledge on the places in the nation, and lo and behold, a week later, there was a tattered copy of that book.

And now he enthuses about House's method of robotics, and a book that people weren't even sure were written since there were so few copies. But in the Robco section of that Museum of Technology, there was a mention of it, however brief. So it existed--or had, at one point. And now it sits against Alex's chest.

He leans further, tapping the sides of their heads together.

[goodfight]

Alex leans further and further until the sides of their heads meet, and it's just so funny how Neil's smile grows and grows. They're two fucktards sitting together in that mess called love. How embarrassing, and yet...

"Who can say?" Neil gives, knowing full well of the irritation the words may spawn. "Depends on you." Depends on what he learns about Alex.

"Besides, don't you like a good surprise?" Definitely not. Alex stated as much, but the guy could use more sarcasm in his life.

[doubletap]

Alex stares across the campfire, thinking that Neil... is getting adorably infuriating. Enough for Alex to carefully set the book aside, before reaching to retrieve the cereal from Neil's hands. The kid holds on for a moment, then gives it up grudgingly. Alex places it off to the side as well.

That done, Alex turns to Neil, staring at him. Then grabs his shoulders and grins menacingly. Before using his full weight to tackle Neil off the log they were using for a bench and into the dirt.

Alex sits on him and gives a smug look. "Probably about as much as you do, Mr. It Depends On Me."

[goodfight]

...First Alex takes his cereal, then he knocks them off the log and onto the warm earth. The Courier means war, and like hell if the Lone Wanderer's gonna lay down and take it.

One problem, though. Being sat on makes throwing someone off tricky, doubly so when the person sitting has to weigh a ton. Neil attempts sitting up twice, buckling and straining, without much give.

He groans. "Dude, you're such a fatass," the man hisses. "What are you? Five hundred pounds? Six hundred?"

[doubletap]

Alex is just going to enjoy the movement beneath him. He smiles at Nigel when he complains. "Probably around three with some of the modifications."

You know, Neil. The ones you didn't believe when Alex said that he had cybernetic implants. And then you tested it. And still doubted as to why.

He raises his eyebrows innocently. "But really. Keep struggling." And there is the lascivious grin. "All that movement is rubbing in all the right places."

[goodfight]

"Bah." Modifications. Neil would be more inclined to believe Alex if he had used the word dumbbells, not modifications. That would make a far more appealing story than cybernetic implants. Cybernetic implants, his ass.

Speaking of ass, Alex is toeing that line. Rubbing in all the right places? Perhaps the man is hinting.

Neil ceases struggling, pausing just long enough to reach with one hand toward Alex's butt, coping a feel without reticence. He then returns the other's grin with a smile all his own.

[doubletap]

Neil stops moving, and Alex expects a bitchfit. He does not under any circumstances expect a hand on his ass, curling around. Neil grins in a manner fitting of one Alex Seattle Geer, and Alex himself is thoroughly off his rails.

But maybe this is a weird mistake? Um. "Uh. Hi?" he says hesitantly.

[goodfight]

There it is. Uh's and um's are normally not in Alex's vocabulary, but perhaps Neil can change that, no?

The grin stays. The hand squeezes just enough to call attention to its presence. "Nice ass," says Neil. "You work out?"

[doubletap]

...Scream-- Alex scrambles ungracefully to get off, shifting to the side to kneel without any agility whatsoever. If anyone saw him right now, he would probably be shamed at the lack. As things stand....

"Um." Stop talking. Stop talking now.

Okay. Sure. Stop talking. Which immediately makes him turn bright red instead. He feels the heat on his cheeks and stares at his lap instead.

Woooow, Alex Seattle Geer. This is just pathetic.