in the moments after [[room 101]]

[traiteur]

It's late afternoon, and Gene's alone in the rooms. The weak springtime sun filters in through the window of the kitchen, and it's warm, and he's alone. For that he's thankful. His body aches like it hasn't in months. Maybe he's thankful for that, too. PT had been grueling, and he'd thrown himself into it with a quiet determination that

Comments

[southphillyboy]

For Babe, not thinking is harder. It's much harder. He's thrown himself into the running, into the exercise. Into being back with the guys, and almost for the first time since he got here, Babe feels like he belongs.

He doesn't feel out of place.

Only, it's not the first time. There's another time, too. And it was here, in these rooms, with Gene.

"Hey," he let the door close quiet behind him, bending over to take off his boots. He'd showered before work, and now, now, here back in the rooms all he wants is what they had before. Done right this time, without the drinking or the anger.

"Cooking?"

[traiteur]

Still in the kitchen, stirring the pot on the stove, Gene hears Babe open and close the door. He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, shifts his weight from foot to bare foot. When Babe calls out to him, Gene takes a step back. "Uh-huh."

[southphillyboy]

"Smells good," he walked into the kitchen with a shy smile, opening the fridge and pulling out two beers. Popping them, he handed one over to Gene, "everything you make smells good."

[traiteur]

Gene accepts the beer, takes a drink of it and looks down. "Thanks."