And carve your name and hearts into the warhead

[m_pinocchio]

Somewhere between finding out the news and hitting the tarmac in Newark, he decides not to go to Neil immediately.

Some of it is fear, plain and simple, though he'd only come out and call it that under extreme duress. But it's not fear of Neil, not really. It's both more complex and more horrible than that. It's fear of disappointing him. Fear of

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[little_moons]

Something's not right.

I know it, the second he steps into the bar. I notice him the second he walks into the fuckin' bar, even though it's busy and it's loud. It doesn't seem to fucking matter. There's this goddamn tether hooked in under my ribs, and it's like I can feel it tugging at me whenever he's nearby. Which... is fucking terrifying. I don't even know how it happened, but it's there, and all I can do is act natural. All I can do is pretend like I don't notice him, like I can't just feel that something's wrong, before he even opens his goddamn mouth.

It's been a decent few days, uneventful but relatively okay, but every single fucking day, I've thought of him. I can't fucking stop myself.

My own lips twitch into an answering smile, and I pull down a glass, grabbing a bottle of something decent and pouring him a measure.

"How was Texas?" I ask casually, sliding the glass over to him and moving over to take the handful of bills the guy next to him just slid over toward me.

[m_pinocchio]

He shrugs, knocks back half the glass, doesn't quite meet Neil's eyes. It must be obvious that something's wrong--Neil knows him well enough by now and he's not good at hiding things at the best of times--but he doesn't even care about hiding it.

Later. They'll talk about it later.

"It was Texas. I dunno. Kinda glad to be outta there."

[little_moons]

"Right," I mutter, leveling him with a skeptical look, 'cause the fact that there's something he's not tellin' me might as well be flashin' over his fucking head in neon lights.

But someone new saddles up to the bar and I have to pour their drink, and there's a whole bar full of customers that have to be looked after.

"I get off in an hour," I tell him, grabbing up a couple empty glasses to dump into the bus tub.

[m_pinocchio]

"I can wait," he says quietly, almost too quiet to be heard over the noise. In truth part of him wants to wait. Drink some, take the edge off, try not to think about how it felt the last time he was seriously shot at, seriously afraid for his life... and look at Neil. Just watch him. And think about a future that he suddenly has more interest in than he can ever remember.

And the timing of this would be almost funny if it weren't so horrible.