the pier.

[doubletap]

Let him just say it now--the kid had a lot of problems.

I mean, not really a surprise or anything--Alex had found him dried out in a desert, for crying out loud--but god damn.

Let’s recap.

Alex Seattle Geer found himself in love with a Vault brat from the Capital Wasteland with a daddy complex the size of Hoover Dam. Said kid loves him back--sometimes. Said kid would probably rather put another bullet between Alex’s eyes rather than spend time with him, and didn’t this just go to show it. Neil leaves to check up a rumor, said he’d be back shortly--shortly became two days and by then Dogmeat was back, meaning Neil took off somewhere he was worried the dog would get hurt at. Two days turn into two weeks and counting, and by then, Alex has tracked Neil’s steps, found the fucking pier, the fucking tool of a woman looking for her child, and all of the pieces are too easily placed.

Neil left for Point Lookout. And Alex, ED-E, and Dogmeat are left hanging in the wind.

Alex has been fucking camping on the dirty sand and shit next to that pier, waiting for that stupid kid to come back on that stupid ferry the woman told him about. Tobar the fucking Ferryman, and Alex feels like shooting the asshole just for submitting to Neil’s request. Probably not the guy’s fault, but-- Hell. Yeah. He didn’t traipse all over the goddamn country just to be left in the dust. Is the kid even coming back? Who fucking knows.

Alex will just.

Wait here.

Until Neil comes back.

Yeah, that’s not pathetic at all.

Comments

[goodfight]

It happens. Bit by bit, step by step. The fog of heat yields to allow the subconscious form. Form, freedom, and movement come alive behind the eyes, and Neil Park again dreams. He dreams--

(There's a man in the engine room when he enters. The jars lining the shelves against the walls almost seem to glow, the small lumps of grey and white matter within lit up like candlelight.)

--and jolts in Alex's arms, the disturbance enough for Neil to wake up with a cry.

[doubletap]

Unconsciousness comes in stuttering waves, the tension in Alex thick enough to cut, and apparently hard enough to keep him from sleep's door. He thinks he's almost there though, almost to the point he could rest.

Neil jolts suddenly, making a sound of surprise. Alex blinks his eyes open, leaving over Neil somewhat. "Hey, hey..." he starts, looking for wakefulness in Neil's expression. "You're okay. I got you."

[goodfight]

He breathes, forcing air in and out of his lungs, not quite sure where he is or why. It isn't until Alex speaks that Neil finally remembers. Finally gives himself to relaxation by increments. Again allows the fever to smooth over the harshness of waking.

Neil inhales once before releasing his breath slowly, his eyes closing again in the effort. "You done?" he manages, his voice hoarse. "How long?"

[doubletap]

"Hour," he answers tiredly, giving into the need to nuzzle against Neil's bare shoulder. "All done for now."

He kisses Neil's skin, holds onto him. "Wanna talk later? Sleep sounds nice right about now."

[goodfight]

Alex speaks of sleep. Holds Neil close and kisses him. Nice actions. Soft surroundings. Neil realizes these details bit by bit, understands the request and the need, and again gives in. He barely gives an "okay" before falling entirely into unconsciousness, his mind retreating into senseless dreams. They allow the man to sleep deeper, for better rest and less interruptions.

And in it, he moves a hand to rest on the other man's arm.

[doubletap]

Time passes. Continues to pass. The anxious part of Alex's mind wonders what's going on upstairs, what's going on inside Neil. What did Alex forget to do? What did he miss in what's happened?

It's a normal post mortem for him. A normal, stress-filled silence. But this time his body takes over, abandoning consciousness in the aftereffects of no food and little sleep.

So Alex sleeps.

There is a room in his mind, small and nearly cramped. There are two children playing tag outside. And inside the room, on an off-white couch, a dark-haired man laughs drunkenly. Gives affection without fighting and smiles. "You are the fucking best."

It's a complex memory for Alex--it isn't all good. But it was the first time Neil told him he loved him, and it burned into his mind. Gave itself over to eternity locked inside his skull.

In the dream, Neil smiles, and reaches to touch Alex's hair. Alex thinks he could stay here forever, just right now. Right here.

[goodfight]

Time passes. It moves through the hours like sand passing through glass, and eventually, eventually, his mind sharpens. The world inside brightens in color, tightening its focus. In the last minute stretch of that long sleep, Neil dreams.

They unravel like knotted strings. He is stepping toward a place he's called home for the past few years, a settlement in the guise of a fortified junkyard, guarded well by a Protectron, a sniper, and a self-proclaimed sheriff. People pass him as he navigates the downward path, as he looks at the broken signs and rusted metal.

This is where he's supposed to be. With them. These people.

But there's a place across the way, across a bottomless cliff spanning hundreds of miles. There's a stretch of desert against the orange sun, teeming with life and lights and sounds. There's a man who lives there, he thinks, and beyond it lies the Pacific Ocean. He had wanted to go there someday. Wanted to see that stretch of water. That clear and blue and sparkling sea as the old picture books made it out to be.

Alex says they're going to see the ocean. That this will just be a memory. Neil will watch the radiated Pacific, its waves crashing against the shore, with a friend and their companions by his side.

But he belongs here, right? Megaton, D.C., the entire East Coast-- It all reeks of death and rot, but this is where he was born. This is where Dad died, where Neil was meant to die, overdosed on radiation on the floor before Thomas Jefferson himself. This is his home.

Right?

Neil opens his eyes, the dredges of sleep and fever still clinging to him. He recognizes Alex resting against him, feels the man's form without reticence, before he goes through the motions of self-inspection. Neil thinks he's doing better, despite the sickness and the heat, and he thinks he might stay awake for a spell this time. Watch the metal ceiling for a bit. Try not to break up about the dream for a bit. Little things like that.

[doubletap]

There is the lag of wakefulness, the one that comes in after you've slept more than you normally have. As Alex normally sleeps in four hour shifts, the amount of time slept could really have been anything. He's laying against Neil, he knows that much, head on the kid's chest like a child. He groans a little, lifting his left arm to check his Pimp-Boy. Which tells him he's been unconscious for ten hours.

Alex groans again, rubbing his face against Neil's bare chest.

[goodfight]

Strangely, it's none of the mental aspects that take up the two hours he's awake. It is physical suffering, the pain that keeps Neil from closing his eyes. The fever, the redressed stitches, the absence of matter in his brain-- Everything hurts. The source hardly matters at this point.

When there's movement against him, a face pressing lightly against his hot skin, Neil swallows down the need to whimper. He inhales slowly in preparation to speak. "You awake?" he asks.

[doubletap]

Alex sighs outward, then lifts himself up to shift across Neil's upper body, resting an elbow on the opposite side for support. From there, close, he looks at Neil. His eyes are dark and heavy, and there's an off-tone to his skin. "Awake," he answers. "Probably shouldn't have slept. You--"

His eyes widen a bit. "Shit, I'm so sorry. I was planning on medicating you every couple of hours. How do you feel? Fuck, I'm sorry I fell asleep like that." The dialogue is partnered with Alex moving to get up, to tend to the responsibilities he ignored.

[goodfight]

Neil laughs, or tries to. It comes out sounding like a cough instead. "It's fine. You probably needed it," he says while turning his head to watch Alex. "Everything hurts, but I'm coherent."

Much more so than ten hours ago, at least. Neil gently closes both hands into fists, testing the pain and swelling from the heat. As stated, neither is too bad, only far too sharp for his waking senses.

[doubletap]

The calm tones he hears are comforting, honestly; enough for Alex to move back and place a hand on Neil's cheek to kiss him.

He smiles, then kisses his nose as well, before straightening. "Still, give me a sec. We don't want your body too stressed out dealing with pain."

This reminds him that he owes this kid another apology. First, though-- He moves to the bags, nodding at both children.

[goodfight]

The pressure of a hand and the subsequent affection register as calming and pleasant. In them, Neil finds momentary relief, enough for the pain's hard edges to soften. He continues watching Alex.

"Alright," is the quiet response.

[doubletap]

Alex returns with the normal fare, shifting to sit on the bed near Neil's thighs. Stimpack, buffout, bottle of water, Bitter Drink-- Neil takes them like it's becoming normal.

Watching, Alex puts a hand on Neil's thigh. "...Hey." Hm. "I wanted to apologize to you. If I was being too hard on you. With that point that you were in a lot of pain. And I told you to deal with it."

[goodfight]

Everything passes with more or less success, and it's pretty funny how accustomed Neil is becoming to the steps.

He's wiping away the droplets from his mouth with the back of his hand when Alex again speaks. More appropriately, apologizes for something unexpected. Neil watches the other man with something like confusion.

"Don't think you need to apologize," he gives. "I had to deal with it." Pain. Difficulty. Everything.

[doubletap]

"I had to deal with it."

His hand tightens on Neil's skin, and Alex closes his eyes. Breathes out.

When he opens his eyes, he is entirely serious. "I want you to listen to me seriously, all right?

"It's not just today. I've been giving you a hard time for a while now, and I shouldn't have been. Back in the Mojave, the trip, here--" The Republic of Dave and Vault 101 in particular. "I want you to be able to trust me, and I keep being an asshole. You shouldn't just have to deal with things. You should be able to relax and lean on me a bit. But I keep being shit about stuff. So. Yeah. I'm sorry. Honestly."

About making you deal with stuff. Forcing things on you. The comments about your dad and your family. Not being more understanding. You're a kid, for christ's sake. I shouldn't have expected you to be rational about stuff so close to you.

More. There's more he has to say, but the words won't come. It's not easy to say. Not without an extra push. So he leave it at that. I'm sorry. Right. Like that's really enough.

[goodfight]

There's pressure against his thigh, and another's eyes on his. Neil blinks as Alex expands upon his choice, apology, and want. Continues watching as things are said.

When the other finishes, Neil looks away, settling on the ceiling. He stares at the lines of metal and piping for a long minute, until his mind finds the words to say. There fortunately isn't much to give.

"You were right, though," are the words. "All this time. I'm just living my life with ghosts." Ignoring the present. Sabotaging the future. Cutting off the one person who might actually give a damn about him.

He glances back to Alex. "It's fine. No harm, no foul."

[doubletap]

Something shifts in his chest, and he's extremely uncomfortable. He wants to kiss Neil suddenly, just hold him and touch him, and it's fucking strange, because he's never wanted this with anyone.

And then, here is this kid.

"But now," he questions. "What are you going to do now?"

[goodfight]

Now. Right now, what the hell is Neil going to do? He remembers that dream, that separation of two distinct places and mindsets. His obligation. His freedom.

Neil breathes in, his chest heaving. "I don't know. I really--" Don't have a clue. "--don't know what to do."

[doubletap]

That was unfair of Alex to ask. He realizes it, then. He needs to hold to something he realized, kneeling down with his head against Neil's stomach is the med room. He'd be lost without this kid. He needs to show that, instead of just fucking around.

Alex reaches for Neil's hand, holds it between both of his own. "Then keep resting for now. Get completely up to stuff, then think about shit. Don't waste your energy on it now."

[goodfight]

Alex's hands hold a warmth Neil cannot ignore, and the younger man smiles despite the discomfort in stretched lips. "I can do that," he says quietly, "once I stop dreaming about shit."

[doubletap]

He shifts his hands and Neil's to his own leg, still bare as well. He doesn't mock or tease. "Tell me about it."

[goodfight]

What a difficult request, but Neil would offer the answer freely. There exists no other option, really. Not when he's stuck in bed, between a rock and a hard place.

"Dreamed about Megaton. D.C. The Mojave. The Pacific Ocean." All the parts and pieces to his dilemma. "Want to go San Francisco. I want to explore the west. But this--"

D.C. The Capital Wasteland.

"--is where I belong, I think. I was born here. Was supposed to--" Neil swallows. "--die here."

[doubletap]

The kid offers a dilemma. One that can be understood. But then he... He mentions that...

Alex wants to be that person. The one that can listen and a supportive shoulder. But he's in too fucking deep, and Neil mentioning that he should have died snips a piece of control that Alex didn't know could be affected. He remembers Neil mentioning being grabbed by Autumn--remembers him talking about that radiation chamber.

In the small bed, Alex slips on top of him, dropping Neil's hand to grab his shoulders instead. He leans to kiss him, deeply, nearly desperate, pressing against him. "You're not," Alex says, breaking away. "You're not held to anything. You don't have to do anything. You weren't supposed to die, Neil Park. You're still alive right now. You still can move."

[goodfight]

A beat passes, and Alex moves to settle on top of Neil, slipping down to kiss. To press against lips and body alike. Neil breathes harshly when they break apart, discomfort and pleasuring mingling, threatening to overwhelm.

Alex tells him he can move, and Neil-- "Alive," he repeats. "I haven't moved on my own in awhile. I've only been reacting." Having his switches flipped at the turn of every single event. "If that's being alive, I'd rather--" Be dead.

He stops, eyes widening in realization. He swallows down the words he wishes so desperately to speak, pushing them to the pit of his stomach.