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covers of a book.
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.
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.
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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?"
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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.
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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.
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"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.
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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."
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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?"
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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."
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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.
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But maybe this is a weird mistake? Um. "Uh. Hi?" he says hesitantly.
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The grin stays. The hand squeezes just enough to call attention to its presence. "Nice ass," says Neil. "You work out?"
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"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.
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The grin shifts to something softer, something private. Damn if Neil isn't enjoying all of this.
"Hmm?" He blinks slowly. "No come back? No come on? I'm surprised, Alex Seattle Geer. You usually don't shy away from an opportunity."
To make use of his weird voodoo powers.
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It evaporates. Becomes resigned as well. "...You're enjoying yourself," he mutters. "How am I supposed to react? You don't normally--"
He hadn't meant to say all of that. Probably should have stuck with ums. He makes a self-deprecating face, partially amused by his own ridiculousness. "...Not used to affection, Wanderer. Especially the teasing kind."
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So Neil sits up, both arms slinging over his knees. His dark eyes holding calm.
"I don't normally," he agrees. "Doesn't mean I can't start. What?" He seeks out Alex's face. "You can only enjoy affection on your terms?"
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He means to question this. He means to ask. Instead--
"...You want to?" he asks quietly, with surprise. Nothing is hidden on his face and he feels raw from this tiny, simple conversation.
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He breathes in. Exhales on a sigh. This is just so. Damn. Annoying.
"Just want to try, okay?" he grumbles.
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He reaches a hand to rest on Neil's thigh, leaving it there for some sort of comfort. "You're the only person that's wanted to, you know."
Return any kind of affection.
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"One would think otherwise," the younger continues. "You seem popular in certain crowds."
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He shrugs. "Which was fine. I didn't want to be with anyone before anyway."
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However-- "And now?" Neil gives neutrally, eyes still fixed on the hand on his thigh.
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Neil needs to spell out what he is asking.
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"And do you want to be with anyone now?" Does he still prefer solitude?
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If this is only a farce, like everything else. His mouth shuts, lips flattening into a straight line.
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"Don't wonder," he says seriously. "I love you. I've told you. I only want you. You're the only one for me." Er. No, Alex. Technically you didn't say that last part. Let's just keep going, shall we? "I didn't want to be with anyone. I only ever wanted to be with you."
He kisses the knuckles again, eyes fluttering once. "If you doubt a thousand, million things, don't doubt that. You wanted my love." He will call back to that locked shanty house, that day they rarely touch on for a few reasons. "You have it. God, you have it," he echoes his lines from that time. Adds more. "You have me, Neil. Never doubt it."
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