abstracts | ghost of a chance.

Entry tags:

au,
fallout

ghost of a chance.

The Capital Wasteland. It's a wasteland. It has dead trees. There are trash, debris, and rotting corpses everywhere. It's Neil's hometown. D.C. ain't pretty, but D.C. is where he comes from. A crappy start, literally.

Neil's hardly phased, though. Despite Alex's clear opinions regarding the area, the younger guy has been looking forward to getting back. Years have passed since he last laid eyes on the Capital Wasteland; some positive change must have occurred. Or any change, really. Anything would be fine.

As they pass through Megaton's gate, however, Neil catches a glimpse of that thing, and he stops dead in his tracks. His eyes widening to show white.

"Da... Dad?"

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Alex had been staring. Even if he hadn't, he knows the kid enough to read the flood of shifting emotions. Shock, fear, panic, realization... Then death, creeping into the downward spiral of apathy eating everything else. It all plays off of the emotions that had been riding in Alex since this shit all began, the anger and protectiveness and threat of loss. He closes his eyes; wishes for something like peace. It's not in this place. Not in this Wasteland.

Maybe not anywhere anymore.

When he opens his eyes, he moves, closing the distance between them until Neil is pressed against the machine behind him, and Alex reaches to move Neil's head upward, to kiss him with an absence of normal passion but an addition of something with further meaning. The act completed, Alex leaves his hand there, staring at Neil. "Find a different way," he states, distance in his voice. "Your father in caught in delusions--there's no halfway to meet. There's other ways to make him happy, if that's what you want. Really obvious ones."

There are moments between them, sometimes. Moments when Neil thinks they might understand each other more than he's willing to admit. And when Alex steps forward to take him by the lips, Neil wonders if this might be one of those moments.

A hand lingers on Alex's arm, and Neil doesn't know how it got there. He only stares back at the other. "What," he begins, "do you mean?"

Neil is touching him and the subject matter combined with the affection Alex has been waiting for all this time makes him feel like laughing. Screaming or crying, at least. He should step away. Talk about this with distance between him, but he can't. He fucking can't move away.

"He has a problem with me," Alex says calmly. Quietly. "Has a problem with you being with me. So get rid of the problem, Wanderer."

Something quiet starts scratching within the confines of his brain, and Neil-- There is a coldness forming in his belly, and somehow, Neil laughs. Chortles darkly.

"Yeah, no," he gives after a moment. "Dad doesn't get to dictate who I associate with and how. Not after Vault 101." After skipping out on Neil's life and endangering the dwellers, James does not get the privilege of providing input to his son's relationships. "I'm not getting rid of the problem because that isn't my problem. It's his shit to get over."

His issue to resolve.

It makes him smile, that response, but not for the reasons one might think. The expression is pained, older; something wounded. "You don't understand, kid. People like that--that react like that--they don't get over it. You and me... We're abnormal," he says lightly, a bad taste in his mouth and history written over his face. "People don't like that. People can and will do a shit ton more than just get pissed off over it."

String people up, hunt them down like animals, kill each and every people loved or affiliated with by the person in question: Alex has seen all of the bad ends. All of the reasons that most men who didn't love the fairer sex stayed quiet.

"He won't understand," he continues. "And he's not going to accept it. If you want a relationship with your dad, just... have us go our separate ways. You were going to break up with me in Novak, remember? So just stick to that."

There are missing pieces, Neil recognizes, from the expression and the words. Things that he will likely never understand because he is a step removed from this bullshit. Because honestly, sex is sex, and this is all the same type of historical shit drama that caused the world to light up in flames.

But the question remains. Neil raises an eyebrow in suspicion. "You want to break up because my dad hates our relationship?" he asks. "Seriously?"

Edited 2016-06-26 07:18 (UTC)

He hears a sound, and a beat behind, is surprised to find his fist nearly embedded in one of the broken machines close to the side. He swallows, breathes in loudly, the sound filling the air as he struggles for calm. It's not coming, not really, the trick of breathing deep for some fucking shit beat of peace. He shakes, his body trembling, as he just. Fucking. Tries.

"...I...do not want to break up with you. You asked," he says, each and every word harsh and thick. "For a way to make peace with him."

Alex slams a fist into another dead machine (one that once measured the chemical composition of various rocks), and Neil can only watch clinically. Analyze the misstep and move from it. Despite the surprise rising within him, he gives his response with little feeling.

Neil does, however, place a hand on the center of Alex's chest. "Sorry. I misunderstood." is the apology given. "And I'm not breaking up with you."

If Neil had just replied, it would not have been enough. But he speaks and reaches to press his hand against Alex, and Alex trembles again, shivers under the touch like a skittish animal.

He takes in a breath. This time it sticks.

His hand is pulled out, metal shards and blood marring skin, but he still reaches out, reaches to wrap his arms around Neil and press his body against his. Tucking his head down, Alex breathes in Neil's scent at the place where neck and shoulder meet, and exhales. Breathes out. Breathes.

They're pressed together-- Contact, blood, and emotions mingling, and Neil finally gets that it's gotten far more into Alex's head than initially expected. Enough to evoke a severe reaction. For once, Neil reaches back and loops his free arm around the older man's waist, his lips unmoving and his voice silent.

Neil allows this break, this moment of calm. They can reconvene on things once they both breathe more easily.

Alex stays like that. He doesn't know how long. Eventually his grip loosens by increments, and he moves to speak quietly. "It's just history, you know. I've seen those reactions before. It doesn't get better. I'm sorry--"

He cuts off, a flash of anger heating his gut. He presses it down.

"--Sorry that we were seen like that."

History. History speaks of experience, and this sort of experience has a grown man upset to the point of pain. And it angers Neil, somewhere. That this was shoved onto Alex's plate without so much as a warning.

"Don't," Neil says tersely. He then amends his tone to something softer. "I get it, but nothing's changed with what I said. Dad's issue. Not yours or mine. Also, the fucktard who gave him that spare key. I'm going to kill him."

Simms.

There's a shift. A change in the air. And it's not something Alex had expected. He backs slightly, so he can look at Neil. He ignores the tail-end of the statement for now. "Not your issue? Doesn't this change things?"

Neil notes the surprise and chooses to ignore it. "No," is the reply. "Dad doesn't dictate my associations. I'm not fucking ten." A child under the guidance of his parent.

The confused expression makes it to Alex's face. He swallows, once. "...You're really going to stay with me for now? Despite that?"

"Yeah," says Neil firmly. He looks over the confusion written clearly on Alex's face before reaching up to pat a cheek. "Don't worry about it."

The confusion turns into a light snarl. Alex glares, grabbing Neil's hand. "Condescending behavior," he drawls in a dry tone. "How charming."

He rolls his eyes, pulling Neil forward, off the machine. "'Course I'm going to worry. You've had a daddy complex since I've known you. And daddy dear caught you with the big bad older man from outside and does not approve. 'Course I'd think you'd drop me in a second to please him."

He understands he crossed a line, but after Alex gives his piece, Neil finds himself not caring. The lack of care leads to a surge of anger, and as Alex tries to pull him forward, Neil pulls back and away, slamming back against the machine.

"I'm his child, not his fucking lapdog!" he yells, the disgust clear in his voice. "My fucking complex is because he doesn't give me the fucking time of day, not because I fucking want his approval!"

The anger is something nice to see. Alex wonders if it's genuine--if the reasons Neil gives are the actual ones. Neil pulls away and Alex doesn't fight it, holding his hands palm up and out. "And you know that's not going to change," he says calmly, like neither of their reactions happened. "Even if you abandoned everything to do actually as he says, he'll still just use you up and not give a damn."

Screw careful words.

Hot, angry breaths come rushing out of his nostrils as Neil attempts for calm. It's easier than expected when logic enters the picture, because in the end--

"Yeah," he gives in, defeated. "You're right. I'm just someone to use." Nothing more to his own damn father, and the mere thought of it makes him sick. His eyes fall on Alex's injured hand.

"You need help with that?"

There's that difference again that Alex noticed. Despite all this shit going on, Neil is being... Shit. Better, in a way. Less pissed with him at every turn. Alex glances at his hand and shrugs, dropping it to his side. "...Didn't even realize it was that messed up," he says, in some kind of tired annoyance. He has half a mind to just leave it like that for now.

"You're not, though," he continues, glancing back up. "Not someone to just use."

What a guy, punching through things and keeping to nonchalance. It does bother Neil, however; he quietly raises a hand and gestures to see the aforementioned injury. If the request is met with rejection, well-- There's nothing to do about that.

"Yet here I am," he replies. "At the beck and call of every fucker who has the caps or the mind to manipulate me. Shit." A labored exhale escapes his lips. "Didn't really grow up one bit, did I?"

Neil demonstrates a request, and the urge to leave things as they are evaporate. He moves forward again, passive and quiet.

With the hand not covered in blood and metal shards, he reaches to Neil's face, not knowing if it would be rejected. He moves to touch the edges of dark hair. "You did. Because you can see it now, and choose to not let it happen."

It is a whole hand that reaches for him, touches his face, and Neil allows it. Lets things move. He looks at Alex, eyes searching for something unknown. "Do you really believe that?" he asks quietly. That Alex believes Neil has grown just enough to make a choice.

"'Course I do," he says, still in that quiet tone. "Everything you told me before... of your dad or strangers... If they had something to do, you would do it, even if you felt like you were being used. Even if it's just the thought right now, you're thinking, 'no'. You see where the path leads, and you don't want it to happen."

He drops his hand, offers a small smile. "...And I hope you don't think I'm like that. I'm not trying to use or manipulate you."

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