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darker-soft-starker · 4 years ago

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Starker High School AU Pt. 7 (1...6)

tw: general Howard Stark warning

----

So, here’s the thing.

Peter meant to ask May about the letter the night he got it back from Tony, He really did. But then everyone was in such a good mood, he couldn’t bring himself to shatter that to satisfy his own curiosity.

So then he meant to ask the next day.

And he tries, he really does.

But the letter feels as heavy as an anvil in his desk drawer and Peter is too nervous to ask about it. Something always comes up or he gets too scared to shatter the image of the good, obedient nephew he is, one who doesn’t go rifling through mail not addressed to him, prying into personal business.

So he flusters and stumbles pretty badly for the first couple attempts. He changes topic quickly, pretending like he was going to ask about something else, asking himself where exactly his business ends and where his curiosity begins.

Once during a gymnastics comp he stopped mid routine to check on a rival who had fallen from the rings and injured themselves. His coach asked when he was going to stop being a goddamn martyr.

He shakes the Magic 8-Ball on Monday morning and asks the universe if it’s an appropriate time to approach May.

Reply hazy, try again.

Well, that’s not what his flagging courage had hoped for. He shakes it again.

Ask again later.

One more time, harder.

Better not tell you now.

“What the hell,” he whispers, placing it haphazardly upon where he took it. “That’s bullshit.”

“What’s with the potty mouth,” May asks suddenly from behind him. He turns as she’s affixing some dangling earrings to her ears. “What’s wrong, kiddo?”

“Nothing,” he sighs. “Just - do you have a minute?”

She checks her watch. “I have about forty seconds. Is something wrong - are you okay?”

“No - I mean yes, I’m okay. Are...are you?”

“Top of the world, bubby,” she scoops her keys from the bowl, approaching him with a curious expression. “Why do you ask?”

There’s no easy way to ask without blatantly admitting to going through her things, and the last thing he wants her to think is that she can’t trust him.

“I just mean. If you weren’t. If there was something wrong, you would tell me, right?”

“Of course,” her face falls. “You’re acting strange, Pete.”

“I just worry, that’s all.”

You’re all I have left, is what loops over and over in his mind, but doesn’t say. She seems to hear it anyway, rushing forward and kissing his forehead, her perfume filling his nose.

“Everything is fine, bubs. The second it isn’t, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Okay.”

“I gotta go, but stop worrying okay? That’s my job. You have a good day.”

She hurries to scoop up her handbag and closes the door before he’s broken out of his thoughts long enough to reply. He sighs and shakes the stupid ball again before he leaves as well.

Cannot predict now.

Of course.

Just for once he’d like fate to be firmly on his side.

---

Something smells weird.

It’s sharp, chemical and not entirely unpleasant. Noticeable, however, sharp enough to cut through the usual musty smell of the library. It’s like apple cider, but overpowers the usual library smell of old books and dust and pencil shavings, a scent Peter has long associated with study, solitude, and the easing of his anxious heart from a gallop to a steady stride.

It’s not a bad smell, just misplaced.

And Tony’s been acting strange all study period. Like, weirder than normal - and his resting state of normal is already ineffably frenetic and bewildering, so this was an entirely different carton of eggs.

Peter doesn’t exactly want to bring it up, they’re kind of on a tenuously peaceful truce, a silent lay down of arms, so to speak.

Well, as peaceful as a truce can be while they call each other all sorts of names and rib each other over literally any sign of weakness, but still. They have some sort of an understanding now, and it’s all relatively innocent, good natured banter.

Mostly.

Peter for sure could have done without being called fuck-face-mcgee upon entering the library, but he’s willing to let it pass. He was late, after all.

“Anyway,” Peter says, sitting across the table from Tony, “so I think if we removed the monthly gym membership, we’d have an extra sixty per month that could go towards other stuff.”

“Like what?” Tony’s face pinches.

“I don’t know, like a college fund?”

“Ridiculous idea. I need that membership,” Tony rebukes, shrugging his leather jacket off, hooking it over the back of the chair. “When else am I supposed to get a reprieve from you and the cabbage patch?”

“When do I get a reprieve? I’m the money-maker. When do I get my break from work and childcare?”

“At work. What are you, like an art teacher or something? Your whole day is like a rich, white woman's vacation. Parents don’t get a lunch break.”

“Right. I’m sure watching Dora and burping an infant is as hard as teaching a class of thirty.”

“Wow. So dismissive. I mean, if you were a good spouse, you would give your withered and weary husband a break from screaming babies and shitty diapers.”

“Mhmm. That would mean I’d have to do something nice for you, and that doesn’t sound like me.”

Tony shakes his head. “We’re getting a divorce as soon as Molly is old enough to pick me as the superior parent,” he points to Peter’s papers. “Put that in the notes.”

Peter closes his eyes and sighs, willing himself not to lean over the table and smack the other boy.

“You are not the superior parent. You’re the deadbeat that forgets to pick her up from school and day drinks.”

“And yet, she loves me the most. You’re just the breadwinner who comes home grumpy every evening. I’m the cool dad.”

“Fine, keep your druglord baby. I never wanted kids anyway.”

“Fine. I’m keeping the car.”

“I’m keeping the apartment.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

They snicker quietly in a rare moment of camaraderie before a lightbulb goes off in Peter's head.

“What if we used the membership, but cut costs elsewhere, like, cutting our own hair and stuff. We could save for a yearly holiday, go to the beach or something.”

“Florida! Disney, roadtrip, yes,” Tony clicks his fingers towards Peter, smiling wide. “Look at you getting all savvy. Call the judge, the marriage is back on.”

“You can’t go to Disney for a few hundred dollars, dumbass, that’s barely the price of admission,” Peter scribbles on his pad, making note of their ideas. “You ever been?”

“Nope.”

“Really?”

“Not even once.”

“That’s surprising. Isn’t that where all rich white people take their baby sociopaths to beat up their first mascot?”

“One, I was never a baby, I emerged fully grown, and two, could you imagine Howard Stark within a mile of the happiest place on earth? He’d have a fucking stroke,” his face changes like he’s had an epiphany. “Not a bad idea, actually.”

Peter doesn’t mention that he doesn’t personally know Howard Stark but is willing to take Tony’s assessment at face value. That being said, he can’t imagine Tony, now, voluntarily heading to Disney without coercion or the promise of copious quantities of alcohol. He’d probably smoke and cuss and scare away small children.

He mind lingers on that particular characterisation, and for a moment tries to picture what Tony looked like as a kid, if he was a chubby, toothless little brat, can’t help then imagining him with Mickey Mouse ears, gleefully running through his gigantic home, harried caretakers running after him.

He must have been the worst.

“I’ve never been further than Washington,” Peter offers, “but that was for AcDec, so it wasn’t like we got to see much.”

“You did Academic Decathlon?”

“Yep.”

“Ew, why would you do that to yourself.”

“I still do it. It looks good on college applications and it’s fun,” he shrugs. “I like it. I’m good at it.”

Tony’s hands cover his mouth, but it doesn’t stifle the rising apple of his cheeks or the mirth in his voice.

“I’m feeling so much second-hand embarrassment for you right now.”

“Shut up,” Peter huffs, kicking him under the table, satisfied when the other boy winces. He fails to smother his own wince when he gets a kick in return, right in the kneecap. “Nothing wrong with being an intellectual.”

“You’re a fucking nerd, four-eyes.”

“What about you?” Peter rolls his eyes, keen to change the subject. “Been outside New York?”

Tony shrugs, tapping his pen on the pad, looking anywhere but at him. “When I was younger I’d sometimes go on my dad's business trips to Europe or Japan or whatever. And we have a house in Malibu.”

“That sounds awesome.”

Tony snorts. He shuffles on his seat, sliding their notes over and making further amendments in quick strokes, the cheap pen spurting bright red ink over the paper like arterial spray.

“Oh yeah, it was a real blast.”

Spoiled brat.

“Are you going anywhere for Thanksgiving?”

“With my family?” Tony looks up. “No, I’d rather stick my head up a turkey’s ass. You?”

Without warning, Peter’s hand flies to cover his mouth, unable to but snort at the imagery, He’s not sure if Tony just doesn’t get along with his family or if he’s still stuck in that churlish, ‘too cool to be around my parents’ stage of adolescence. It’s one the idiosyncrasies that would have annoyed Peter before, his ungratefulness of having a family that’s still alive would be just another thing for Peter to hate him for.

Now, he thinks, he’s beginning to parse out when Tony’s being sincere and when he’s hyperbolic, finally recognising the latter as a mechanism to throw someone off a topic that makes Tony uncomfortable. He sees it - the warning lights and stop signs in barbed coding, wrapped up in dry wit and sarcasm.

Peter is like that sometimes, too.

And what the hell would Peter know about having a normal family.

“Yeah, actually, for once,” he says softly. “My aunt - not May - and uncle have a holiday home up north, so we’re staying with them over the long weekend.”

“S’cool. May’s family?”

Peter shakes his head. “Sort of - they’re not actually related, but May and Margaret have been best friends since college, so.”

“Is Margaret a babe, too?”

Peter throw a chewed-up pencil at him that he catches easily.

“Don’t be gross.”

“I’m not,” he throws the pencil back, overshooting and hitting the shelves behind them. “What are we talking, on a scale of haggard to hottie.”

“I don’t know, man. You seem to have questionable taste in the people you are attracted to.”

Tony grins crookedly, eyes shining with something Peter can’t decipher. “Ain't that the truth.”

“What’s the supposed to --” he stops himself, suddenly recognising what the strange scent was that he’d been picking up. “Wait - dude, are you wearing cologne?”

Tony’s mouth opens and closes a few times before he responds. “No,” he denies, just as the bell rings. “Oh, look at that, time to get to class.”

Saved by the bell.

“So, this is it,” Tony nods, shutting the lid of his laptop as the bell signals the end of their free period. “We’re done. The assignment. That’s the last of it, right?”

Dazedly, he watches Tony stuffing his laptop and notes into his backpack, brow creasing as his mind catches up.

“Uh, yeah. I guess.”

“Send me your notes tonight, I’ll stitch them together with mine and send them back.”

“Okay,” he sluggishly collects his own notes, picking up the bag by his feet. “That’s - that’s good.”

“Well, Parker,” Tony slings his backpack on his shoulder, shuffling backwards, “we didn’t kill each other. I mean, not for a lack of wanting on my behalf.”

‘’Yeah, from Wednesday we’re free. We can go back to normal.”

“Yeah,” Tony’s grin fades. They stare at each other for a long moment that could have been seconds or hours, he doesn’t know, until the second bell rings.

“Hey, um --”

“I’ll send you the notes later,” Tony interrupts, sotto voce. “I gotta get to class. See you around.”

Something in his stomach deflates, sadly and slowly, like a balloon with a pinprick, emptying itself until it’s an uncomfortably hard to digest crumpled mass at the base of his stomach. He pastes on a smile and looks out the window, hoping the feeling doesn’t show in his eyes.

That’s when he notices the leather jacket Tony has left behind, still slung over the back of the chair.

“You left your…” he trails off, turning back, but Tony is already long gone, probably already halfway to his next class. Like a bat out of hell, Peter thinks wryly, picking up the jacket, the leather smooth like butter under his touch, still warm around the collar where Tony’s had been leaning against it.

No good leaving it here to get stolen or be tossed into lost property. He decides to take it with him, folding it gently over his arm. He’ll give it back when he sees him again, maybe after school.

“Nice jacket, Parker,” Flash says approvingly when Peter bumps into him out in the hall.

At first he thinks he’s referring to Peter’s ratty hoodie, and it confounds him for a moment because it’s decidedly not nice, but then he realizes he’s referring to the leather in his arms.

“It’s not mine,” he replies a little too late, because Flash is already down the hall, out of earshot.

Peter sighs. It’s beginning to become a depressing theme.

---

The weird feeling in his chest doesn’t subside all afternoon, and into the evening Peter is starting to think maybe he just has indigestion, like acid reflux or something. Must be the chilli surprise from lunch. Maybe he’d missed his meds.

He sends his portion of the final notes to Tony’s email, turns off his computer and switches on Colbert.

---

It’s not until hours later, well after midnight and the infomercials are playing, only then does his phone buzz against his thigh with a response.

Figures that Tony would be a night owl like him.

> soz was distracted > youtube spiral

Peter shifts downwards on the bed, holding the phone over his face. < s’ok < what were you watching > say yes to the dress < lmao really > lol no > anyway, looks good. ur notes > will print off for u to sign tomorrow < is that a compliment or an admission u were wrong about me

> neither. One subject does not a genius make > unlike me, an actual genius

In your dreams, dipshit, he wants to type, but doesn’t, not really keen to provoke a muddy discussion on who is the smartest (it’s definitely Peter).

< u left ur jacket in the library btw, I have it, he texts instead, his pulse jumping when Tony replies with crying emoji’s.

Tony sends him a snap, unexpectedly, a sad face that makes Peter snort. His face seems distressed, the caption reads, thought i lost it for good.

Shifting down further on the bed, he’s feeling suddenly and inexplicably courageous, fire burning up from his belly button to his fingers.

Peter takes a silly photo of himself and sends it back. > didn’t want it to get stolen < aw u care

“I do not,” he whispers to himself. > i do not. come collect it after school tomorrow or im throwing it out. < u wouldn’t do that to me > there’s a lot of things i would do 2 u > .... > um > lol

Peter’s face flames at the implication. He reads over what he just so carelessly typed, stomach positively knotted with embarrassment. Oh god, that is not what he meant. His fingers fly over the screen at record speed as he types out a response. < NOT LIKE THAT < I MEANT IT IN A THREATENING WAY < I’M LITERALLY GAGGING > yikes > ur dirty talk needs work < no it DOESN’T bc we’re not sexting > sure jan > damn. didn’t kno u had it in u bubs < i don’t have it in me > not yet > ;)

Despite the deep blush still heating his face and his heart galloping in his chest, a laugh breaks out of him. The phone in his hand vibrates again. > jk jk, not ever > need to bleach my brain now

Slowly gliding back to earth he types out a response. < ikr me too < ugh.

He puts his phone down on the bed, looking up at the water-stained ceiling, amusement slowly fading. His pulse though, that doesn’t return to normal.

How could it when his mind suddenly runs away from him, evoking short-lived, but nonetheless strikingly vivid images of intertwined legs, planes of pale skin, and lush lips. How can the heat in his stomach escape when his thoughts conjure phantom sensations of a soft mouth sucking on his neck, the punishing grip of hands on his hips and the warmth and weight of another body on top of his own.

A forehead leaning against his, brown eyes that knocked his pulse off kilter.

The taste of nicotine.

Stop it.

That is dangerous territory right there. And a line he doesn’t want to cross.

Shaking his head, Peter swings his legs over the side of the bed and sits up, looking anywhere for a distraction; his window, the posters on his wall, his figurines on his shelves, anything to douse the low-burning fire in his gut.

Standing, he heads to the bathroom to get ready for bed, banging their crappy old heater with his fist to get it working again.

He takes a very cold shower.

----

It’s not that Peter doesn’t enjoy sex.

Not that he’s had it.

But he enjoys jerking off, at least. Like a regular amount, whatever that is for a teenage boy. He likes kissing. Likes thinking about one day being in a real relationship and exploring someone's body and he likes exploring what turns him on and what he doesn’t.

It’s just that he doesn’t let himself think of anyone he knows personally that way, no matter how conventionally attractive they are - not Thor, and especially not him.

Typically, his fantasies are people with vague features, sometimes with bodies like those he has seen in porn, all shapes and sizes. And that’s safe for him.

He doesn’t want to have to look anyone he knows in the eye and wonder what their lips would feel like pressed against his own. If they’re any good at kissing. If they’re the type to take control or cede it.

He does wonder, sometimes though. No matter how much he denies what or who he wants.

Because it doesn’t matter if it’s a person or a thing. Want is never superficial in his experience, it doesn’t feel good most of the time. It’s deep and sometimes dark, it sinks itself into him with its hooks and it tugs, and keeps tugging. It yields to craving and yearning.

Back in his bedroom, his eyes land on his wall-mounted mirror. It’s small. Like the Mona Lisa. Small enough that he doesn’t have to see his whole reflection if he doesn’t want to.

He doesn’t want to crave and yearn for anybody, because he knows it will always be one sided. He’s well aware that he isn’t exactly centrefold material.

Who is gonna look at his weird ears or thin lips, and think, shit, that’s the guy of my dreams. Not with his big glasses or the way his hair twists itself into frizzy, unruly curls once the gel wears off and he starts looking like an unkempt labradoodle.

Who would want to wake up next to him? No one.

So it’s better not to risk imagining anyone real. It’s only in his head that anyone could ever want him back.

His eyes go from the mirror to the jacket folded and placed on his desk. It was intended to be plain sight so he remembers to bring it in - out of sight, out of mind, is what Ben would say. He can still smell the cologne Tony denied wearing earlier.

Once he’s in bed, he turns to face the wall.

Out of sight, out of mind.

---

Maybe Tony subscribes to that mantra as well.

Peter forgets to bring the jacket in all week and Tony doesn’t ask.

---

Danvers wants him fit and ready to be harpooned into the mud by next week; that’s why she looks the other way when Thor and Peter take their informal training in the boundaries of the field, stretching out on the grass as the JV team runs their usual morning drills - drills Peter would have been a part of before his stupid injury and his stupid wrist-brace.

This school is stupid too. Now he has to pay to see a doctor so he can get medically cleared for a sport he doesn’t really care that much about.

Like he didn’t have enough medical bills to deal with.

In any case, he’s not really in a position to complain, because he has the opportunity now to run through his warm-up with Thor, who is taking his direction to spread his legs into a butterfly position so beautifully, even as his knees raise from the ground to make a v-shape, whereas Peter’s lie flat on the grass.

If the last few days had been different, he might have blushed and used the situation at hand as an opening to place his hands on Thor’s knees and applied pressure. But now he just smiles encouragingly and reminds himself that he has no chance - no place - and his hands do not belong anywhere but his own body.

And surprisingly enough, he’s okay about it all.

Thor was a good guy. Peter will never say no to having more friends.

It’s a dreadful, bitter morning. Icy cold, wind biting into his shirt, the grass below them is damp. He has to keep rubbing his hands together so he can restore feeling in his fingers.

To make things worse, Tony is back on the bleachers. White v-neck, jeans and dark sunglasses. Sprawled out over a set of steps, legs askew, arms behind his head, unmoving as if he were napping or sunbathing, appearing like a cocky main out of an eighties movie.

Or a king surveying his kingdom.

Rhodes and Potts slouch on either side of him, swapping phones over his idle figure, taking pictures and laughing amongst themselves.

“It burns,” Thor says lightly, hands on his thighs in an attempt to aim his knees to touch the ground.

“Yeah,” Peter agrees, despite the ease in which he can lean in. “It just takes practice, dude. Twenty minutes a day, warm up and don’t over-do it. You’ll be limber in no time.”

“You can do this better than I can,” Thor argues, accent thick as he tries to lie flat like Peter.

“And you can lift a hundred pounds better than I can,” he tries to rebut, even as they switch positions, hip flexors aching with old injuries.

While the stretches are like second nature, he doesn’t miss the pressure of training for competition. The eagerness to get into a flat butterfly or oversplit. There was no argument that he spent nights on crunches back then, and he was somewhat toned - but he was shit at weight training. He hated lifting. Reps were more boring, more tedious and difficult and the diet required to give them any value was frankly not worth giving up a great hotdog or a loaded sub from Delmars. He wouldn’t go back to it now.

None of that old heat is there when he inspects Thor’s form. That quick simmer, the call to be closer. That terrible thing, want. All but gone. awe is still there, as he suspects it always would be with someone as outstanding as Thor, but the butterflies have very much flown away.

As he suspected would be the case. He has someone and they’re happy. With the cat out of the bag Thor had shown Peter pictures of his boyfriend all morning. He’d gotten a puppy, apparently, which just tickled Thor. He was so happy it was almost sickening.

When is it gonna be him that sickens someone with photo’s of his partner?

“Hey, Parker,” Tony yells from the stands, “you suck!”

Looking over, the idiot is raised on his elbows and grinning, like he’s proud of himself for a spectacularly unoriginal insult.

Rolling his eyes, Peter gives him the finger and he gets one in return.

His stomach twists and he has to duck his head to conceal his smile.

“Your husband is somewhat rude,” Thor says, following Peter’s example and switching from a pike to a lunge.

Peter looks back over to the stands. A cigarette now dangles between Tony’s full lips, sunglasses slid to the tip of his nose.

That’s how Peter knows he’s looking at him too.

Even from afar his eyes are round and mirthful, framed with ridiculously long lashes like a cartoon mouse, far too outlandish for any real person to have.

“He’s the absolute worst,” Peter bites his bottom lip, quickly averting his gaze. “It was an arranged marriage, to be fair.”

---

Wednesday comes and goes.

Their assignment gets handed in, Peter signs it off to say he did his fair portion of the work and Miss Ahn beams at the both of them when she is handed the thick binder, looking all too pleased with herself.

They have a presentation of their work next week, after Thanksgiving, each pair expected to give five minutes of their life pretending that they’re passionate about schoolwork in front of their fellow students who don’t care.

After that they are completely unburdened. No study sessions, no car rides, and no fries dipped in milkshakes.

They’re embarrassingly hailed as a prime example of people working through their differences, as if they had come together and were now friends or something.

From the front row Tony sneaks a furtive glance at Peter when she applauds them to the class.

“See, kids,” she says, “it wasn’t so bad working together, was it?”

Their eyes meet briefly.

“Zero out of ten, would not do again,” Tony declares, brash and loud, kicking his combat boots onto his desk in a leisurely display.. “That guy is the human equivalent of watching paint dry. Awful.”

“Oh, come on,” she chides. “Be nice.”

Not one to be outdone, Peter lets his horse out of the gate too.

“Singular worst experience of my life. I once had a root canal without anaesthetic and it was less painful than working with him.”

“Alright, boys, that’s enough out of you,” Miss Ahn sighs deeply, walking to the front of the room. “Mr Lang, how did you find the assignment?”

“Very informative…”

From the front row Tony turns in his seat and winks at him.

----

“Thanksgiving plans?” Natasha asks, leaning beside his locker, smothering a smile as he struggles to get his locker open for the nth time that day with one functional hand.

“Visiting my Aunt and Uncle,” he says, finally prying the damn thing open. “They’ve got a place up at Otisco Lake, so. Probably watching old movies and swimming all weekend.”

“Oof,” his friend winces. “That’s a trip. Think the May-Mobile will make the distance?”

The May-Mobile of course to the ancient, ‘89 Volvo 240 that May has been driving ever since Peter was born. She adores it and refuses to trade in, despite the fact that it rarely gets driven, practically haemorrhages gas, and has cost more in repairs in the last five years than the actual value of the car. But May really loves it. It's sentimental. She says it was the car Ben and her picked out together.

“It better make it,” he dumps his books in, closing the locker. “I don’t want to spend the weekend waiting for AAA in the middle of nowhere. What’s your plans?”

She shrugs, walking with him down the hall.

“Probably go and annoy Yelena. Was supposed to spend it with Bucky and his mom, but that ain't happening.”

He bumps her shoulder sympathetically. “Do you think you two will get back together?”

“Probably. But he’s got a shitload of grovelling to do first.”

“Don’t maim him, please. We need him on the team.”

“No promises.”

“Speak of the devil,” Peter adjusts his glasses, spotting Bucky at the base of the stairs talking to somebody. He gets startled, heart jumping when Natasha grabs him by the waist, pushing him towards the wall and inching them closer to the stairs.

“What are you --”

“ -- Shh, I want to listen. Who is he talking to?”

Craning his head, he finds himself in for another surprise when he sees that the other person he’s talking to is --

“He’s… he’s talking to Stark - what...?”

She shushes him again and Peter listens, curious now too.

“... what do you want, Barnes?” Tony visibly grimaces, taking a cigarette from his pocket and tucking it behind his ear. “Make it quick. I got places to be and your noxious stench gives me headaches.”

An announcement goes off over the loudspeaker over their head, calling for Brendon Bennett, a dick of a senior, to move his car from where he has blocked a teacher from leaving. It would be funny at any other time, but as it goes, he misses a chunk of their conversation.

“...Rogers isn’t the boss of me.”

“Yes, he is, and I’m not getting suspended again because you’re a pussy and he has roid-rage.”

“I just need an ETA. C’mon, pal, I really need this.”

“I’m not your pal and I don’t give a flying fuck what you need.”

Ever the easy going guy, Bucky puts his hands up placatingly as a group of students file down the stairs, causing enough noise that Peter misses whatever is said next. As he strains to hear he tries to draw the line between the dots, but comes up short on exactly how these two are connected.

“That fucker,” Natasha mutters near his ear.

By the time the students clear, Tony’s descended the stairs and begun to walk away

“I have better things to do than to sit around and wait for you,” Bucky calls out, giving him the finger.”

“And yet you will.”

Not in any possible lifetime was Peter going to address that he was weirdly relieved that Tony didn’t flip him off in return, some part of him petulantly thinking that’s our thing, but that’s wrong - Peter and Tony are not friends and they do not have things, even when they do, it’s not like a thing thing.

Nat grips his hand and pulls him along when Bucky leaves as well, swiftly walking away to avoid being caught. His backpack jostles at the speed and he realizes he’s still clutching Tony's jacket from where he had retrieved it from his locker.

“What was that about?” He asks, struggling to keep up with his friend's furious pace as he’s led down the hall. “Tash?”

She drops his hand once they are outside, her disapproval near palpable, voice laden with fire and fury.

“That’s Bucky being a world class idiot, he’s gonna get himself expelled, I swear.”

Peter stops on the spot.

“Expelled?”

Something dark curls unpleasantly in his gut, heavy and not leaving.

“They have a thing,” she explains hotly, mouth turning down. “Bucky and Stark.”

“What?” Peter breathes, uncomfortably thinking back to the party and the way Bucky overtly complimented Tony’s body. “Like a.... like a sex thing? Did he cheat on you?”

“What? No.”

“Then what?”

Red strands whipping in the wind, his friend looks around to see if there is anyone nearby before leaning in to speak low. He leans in too, unabashedly curious.

“Do you remember when Bucky was having issues with his parents when school started?”

He nods, thinking back to the times Bucky slept over in the late days of summer and early weeks of the school year, once or twice a week to get away from the shouting in his own home.

Natasha continues.

“Don’t tell him I told you this, but he got really depressed and fell behind with his work and everything he was handing in was terrible. Danvers pulled him up and said if he didn’t get his grades up, he’d be risking his spot on the team. So Bucky paid Stark to write up a few assignments for him, apparently he was doing it for a few kids, like it was a thing.”

...Okay.

That was not good, and definitely disappointing, but -

“Rogers found out. He gave Bucky a warning, but with Stark he threatened to go to Fury.”

Peter thinks back to the fight between their captain and Stark and their fight not long ago. “That’s why they…”

“I’m told Stark snapped, but I don’t know. I found out about the whole paper thing after that and me and Buck fought about it. I just got so mad - he’s - he’s not stupid, you know?”

“I know.”

She exhales heavily through her nose. “He’s going to get himself kicked out of school and I’m so -- I could kill him. We’re supposed to graduate together and get away from our families and go to college, and then he does this.”

“I’m sorry, Tash, I didn’t know,” he hugs her, her body going stiff before relaxing in his hold. “That’s shitty. For both of you.”

“I’m sorry for thinking you were in on the loop.”

He smiles, self-deprecating.

“Nope, I’m as clueless as ever.”

“No, you’re just too good for that,” she shakes her head. “Look, I gotta go and blow off some steam. Please don’t tell anybody about all this.”

“I won't, I swear - but text me later, alright? Let me know you’re okay.”

She ruffles his hair before stepping back.

“You’re a bleeding heart, PP. Keep an eye on that, will you?”

Hearing a squeal of tyres, he whips his head around to the parking lot, the source of the noise. The Firebird squeals out of the lot and onto the road, the sound as angry, the glimpse Peter gets of Tony’s face, even angrier.

He turns back to Nat, but she’s already walked away. Which means she isn’t there to hear him mutter to himself.

“What are you getting into, Tony?”

----

His thumbs hover over his phone that night, as he writes i saw u with barnes today.

He quickly deletes that, not wanting Tony to think that he was following him or spying on him - or worse, thinking that Peter actually cares about what he does. He doesn’t. They’re not friends.

A dread settles in the spaces between his ribs, like thread trying to squeeze them together too tight, his lungs feeling compressed. Maybe it’s his asthma, or allergies.

It’s not and he knows it. He’s disappointed.

He rubs at his chest on his way home thinking about the scene they just saw and about what Natasha said. How is it that so many people in his orbit had this entire entanglement going on without Peter having any whiff of it? It really makes him wonder if they were they good at hiding it or was he just really fucking stupid. Stupid enough to think Bucky was doing okay, that Rogers wasn’t as sanctimonious as he appeared to be, and that Tony was --

Nevermind.

It’s none of his business and it’s not his place.

He knows better than to ask. It’s not as if he can forget all his own secrets that he clutches tightly to his chest, so tight it feels like he constantly walks through life with his fists clenched.

That and, like May, the real truth is that he can’t claim any entitlement to their trust. He eavesdropped in more ways than one these last two weeks. He tries to brush off that dry, sobering thought; it’s none of his business anyway and he has enough on his plate without getting involved.

When are you going to stop being such a goddamned martyr.

So then he thinks about the sheer fury on Tony’s face, how his - how he used to look at Peter the same way, and how Peter used to think that angry and bitter was Tony's default mood. That was that. The status quo.

Well, that wasn’t entirely fair, was it. It was easier to dislike Tony when he was distant enough that Peter could pigeon-hole him into a stereotype.

Because Tony got into fights, sure, countless and petty, but he was the guy who pet puppies and snuck them food under the table. Not the guy who kicked them.

He looked like the puppy that was kicked, though.

Not angry.

Wounded.

And that’s what confuses Peter. Turns out he doesn’t really know anything about his friends.

Or Tony, it would seem.

----

May closes the drivers-side door and throws a packet of snacks into Peter’s face.

“Pretzels.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” he adjusts his glasses where they'd been knocked askew.

“Sorry, I thought your reflexes were better,” she says, and by way of apology, lobs a packet of sour gummies more gracefully on his lap. “Your favorite.”

“Apology accepted.”

From a plastic bag she fishes out two cokes and places them in the centre console, a bag of red licorice and crackers follow, also making their way onto his lap. She always buys too much food.

Then they’re turning back onto the highway that leads them out of where they paused at Monticello, the radio jacked up loud enough to be heard over the tiny droplets of raindrops sporadically hitting the windshield.

They’ve left early enough that it’s still dark.

Fog still hangs low on the roadside, intangible pale wisps that seem to disintegrate upon crossing, the road dotted with other travellers, but not too crowded, enough so they can easily cruise the speed limit and sometimes over. The Bangles play on a cassette tape and, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel, May looks so carefree, driving her sentimental car with the noisy engine, singing along to the same cassettes she’s had since she was his age.

Peter can’t bring himself to say what he wants to. About the letters. One in particular. He knows something isn't right but who is he to break the peace?

So, he doesn’t and they keep driving.

The fog lifts and the tunes continue, both of them singing familiar tunes from ABBA to George Michael and Peter let’s go of what he can’t control and loses himself in the buoyancy of nostalgia - neither of them can carry a tune for shit and it’s funny, and when he rolls his window down he sticks his hand out to feel the frigid air, it’s the most free he’s felt in a long time.

Football and his after-school duties and everything else just drifts away with the wind, at least for this moment.

It was like when he was a kid. The route itself is mostly dark and dull, and this time without Ben, but their usual car games of ‘dollar every time you spot a windmill’ and ‘how many minutes until the next town’ are fun and easily pass the time. This will be another memory that he will gloss over with fondness, how even the boring roads will seem like rapture.

When the sky starts to turn from black to grey they stop for early breakfast at a diner just slightly off their trail in Windsor, both of them famished despite the hoard of snacks and in dire need of coffee.

The car is beginning to emit pale plumes of smoke from under the hood as they arrive at Davis Grove, Otisco Lake in the early morning. The sun rises low over the horizon, a slow ascent that turns the sky grey and brushes wriggling streaks of color over the lake.

The house is exactly as Peter remembers it.

Panels painted slate blue, brown-tiled roof. Two-storeys with a wrap-around porch and a private dock only a short distance away from the entrance. A swinging chair on the lawn that comfortably fits three and a half people.

It looks exactly as it did when Peter first came here as a kid, plucked straight out of his memories in perfect form, like it was set in a liminal space that time refused to touch. A piece comes back to his being at this moment, something that he didn’t know was missing.

Aunt Margaret is already standing at the door when the pull up. She doesn’t look a day older than when Peter last saw her years ago.

“Oh, look at you,” she coos, wrapping Peter up in a tight hug, curls brushing his cheek, “my darling little Petey-pie.”

“Hey, Aunt Margaret,” he returns the hug.

“You’re so tall now, let me look at you,” she holds him at arm's length, warm eyes roving over his form. “Oh my goodness, haven’t you grown a handsome young man? Last time we met you only came up to my shoulders and had braces.” She turns her attention to May. “Isn’t he handsome?”

His aunt nods, smiling at them, both women gravitating into a tight embrace. “It’s good to see you, Peggy. Thanks for having us.”

“Our pleasure. You look even more beautiful than the last time.”

“Oh, stop,” May releases her, wiping at her eyes. “Look who’s talking.”

She tilts her head to the porch and takes May’s duffle from where she has dropped it to the ground. “Come on you two, inside. We’ve got the fire going and scrambled eggs on the table.”

Inside it smells like the best parts of his childhood. A burning fire and butterscotch and lingering musky-but-floral scent from the bowl of potpourri high on the mantel. Even the sounds are the same, the same coo of early birds in the burgeoning daylight, someone humming by the stove.

Margaret leads them into the living room, where her husband meets them halfway from the kitchen, oven mitts still on his hands when he spreads his arms wide to welcome them.

“My goodness,” he beams, “look what the cat dragged in.”

He wears a cravat at the same time he wears an apron, looking every bit the formal yet whimsical man Peter remembers him to be and a crushing wave of nostalgia comes over him so suddenly he can’t help but rush forward and embrace him.

“Welcome, Peter. It’s so good to have you here.”

“Thanks for having us, Uncle Ed.”

“What have you taught him,” he points his query to May as he releases Peter to hug her. “You know you can call me Jarvis.”

---

Margaret ‘Peggy’ Carter and Edwin Jarvis had been young twenty-somethings when they first met. Both were born in England before moving to the US, but it wasn’t until they met at Margaret’s first college that their paths crossed. They worked in different departments, Peter thinks Ed was an engineer or something and Margaret an analyst, but the universe pulled them together eventually.

Margaret asked Ed out first and then a year later, May was the maid-of-honor at their wedding and Ben was reportedly a teary guest in the squeaky church pews.

And the rest, as they say, was history.

A photo of that day sits framed upon the mantle. May and Margaret have their arms around each other, Uncle Ben and Ed standing awkwardly at the sides of the frame, holding up flutes of champagne.

They look so young. Happy.

Peter observes the photo, smiling. He would have been a baby back then. Before his parents and Ben had -- well.

His mind does these weird calculations sometimes. Like, the May in this photo is only nine or so years older than how old he is now, and this moment, suspended in time, makes them closer than they have ever been, even though in real life they are over twenty years apart.

Looking at this picture, it makes him wonder how many people he knows now will live full lives and die of old age. How many people his age will stay forever young, and who will be in the future looking back at their time now, wistfully staring at pictures of those who only exist suspended in that time.

It’s funny, being a teenager. His peers are too young to die so they assume they won't. Even in their twenties and thirties or forties, death seems like an elusive thing that doesn’t apply to anybody until it does. It’s for the decrepit, the sick.

But in Peter’s case death comes like poorly aimed darts, always landing badly and scoring low. In his pockets, his hands turn in fists. He hopes the three people left alive in this picture get to grow old.

He smells her perfume before he sees her. Margaret approaches, bumping their hips together.

“This was a nice day,” she says softly, wistful. “I wish we’d kept more contact over these last few years.”

“Me too,” he smiles sadly, her expression reflecting his. With a hand on his back she leads him to the couch.

“Come on, munchkin, come sit. Tell me how you have been.”

---

“We weren’t planning on the big dinner,” Uncle Ed says as he finishes peeling a potato, handing it to Peter once he’s done. “But we’re so glad you two joined us. Neither of us have a lot of family here, you know.”

“Us neither,” Peter runs the peeled potato under running water to rid it of dirty residue before chopping it into quarters. “It’s really nice to see you again, it’s been way too long.”

“You really have grown into such a nice young man,” the man smiles. “Ben would be proud. Your parent’s, too.”

“Thank you.”

They haven’t got together like this since Ben died a couple years back. It wasn’t really anyone’s fault. Shit happened and it got harder to try. May got busier with looking after Peter full time and working more - and Uncle Ed quit his job and opened up a garage and Margaret lost a baby - all at the same time.

It was a lot for everyone. Even college best friends moved apart when fate put up walls at every turn.

It seems everyone in his circle is just does their best to survive. Or maybe that’s just what growing up is.

The remainder of their morning is spent eyeing the oven and skedaddling while Margaret prepares her pecan pie, ejecting them out of the kitchen with a forceful shoo.

“May says you’re playing football,” Ed says, leading him out to the lounge, passing him a can of soda. “How’d that happen? Last I checked you were doing splits over a pommel horse.”

Peter shrugs, tapping his can with his fingernails, idly paying attention to the football on the old TV. “Needed an extra-curricular, there was an opening and for some reason they accepted me.”

“You were so good at gymnastics,” Margaret comments from the kitchen, whisking away at her bowl. “I’m sure you’re exemplary in anything you do. They’re lucky to have you.”

“Yeah,” Peter says, sculling back the rest of his drink, bubbles burning down his throat. “Looks good on college applications in any case.”

“This kid,” May points to him with her beer bottle. “He does it all, I don’t even know how. He’s brilliant.”

I could do more, he thinks. He wonders again in that moment what it is that makes him so deficient that May couldn’t rely on him to accept the truth about their situation, that maybe he was just too naive. But he’s not. He’d drop his after-school activities and get a job in a hot second if he thought it would help. And for just a split-second he’s mad about that, about being kept in the dark.

But then he sees the strain around her eyes, how the bottle in her hands trembles ever so slightly, how much she makes the hard world soft around them. And it’s easy for him to let that feeling go.

“You’re still freelancing?” Peter asks Margaret, momentarily distracted when Ed’s phone lights up with a call.

“Excuse me, terribly sorry,” he says suddenly, picking up the phone and answering it, rising to his feet to converse in the adjacent room.

“Yes,” Margaret says, eyes lingering over where her husband has gone, his voice carrying over the walls in worried, muffled tones. “Well, consulting. I can work from home, which makes it easier to take care of all my non-existent children,” she gestures to the empty room around them.

“You could go work with Jarvis,” May retrieves a new bottle, popping the cap. “Look after the books, help him replace tyres.”

“Tempting,” Margaret says dully, rolling her eyes. “Can’t understand why I haven’t done that yet.”

Jarvis re-enters minutes later, hands held out apologetically; whispering to Margaret first before he addresses the room.

“Um, we have another guest coming up for dinner, if that’s alright,” he winces at their blank faces. “He works for me. Has a difficult family arrangement and needs a bit of respite. You know how it gets over the holidays.”

Peter meets May’s eyes and shrugs. Anyone working under the business and is vouched for by his surrogate uncle is good by him.

“The more the merrier,” May raises her bottle.

After that, the kitchen needs his hands again.

---

The afternoon is spent preparing the sides, checking in on the truly gargantuan turkey and indulging their cat with nibbles and head scratches. May and Margaret spend the time drinking beer and cider, reminiscing their college years. It’s nice to hear the house full of laughter, given how somber the mood was when they were last all together.

“When did you get a cat?” Peter directs his question to Jarvis, accepting a peeler from him to attack the carrots.

The cat in question is completely black and delightfully plump, not overly so, but enough to indicate it’s decently fed but probably also a little lazy. Or maybe he just thinks that now that it lies tall on the peak on its scratching post, tail flicking idly while it watches them work tirelessly in the kitchen from above.

“Oh, about a year ago. Gives Peggy some company while I'm in the garage. She’s a sweetheart, this one.”

“What’s her name?”

“Friday the Thirteenth. Friday for short.”

“That’s, um, unique.”

“Was the day we adopted her,” Jarvis reaches up to scratch her. “And she’s a black cat, so, you know; spooky.”

Peter tilts his head to the side, considering it. “I like it.”

“Not bad, huh.”

“Yep. It’s a better name than Molly,” he mutters, shaking a slimy carrot shaving off his fingers.

Jarvis pauses. “As in Ringwald?”

Peter sighs and continues peeling.

----

“Did I ever tell you about the time May came to class in a bathing suit?”

“I don’t think they need to hear that --”

“So we have this exam,” Peggy says, ignoring May, “Super important. Fifty percent of our overall grade. She comes in late, dripping wet, the biggest hickey on her neck I have ever seen --”

“Peggy.”

“-- Only thing saving her modesty was Ben’s shirt over her shoulders. I had to lend her a pen so she could sit the exam.”

“Did you pass though,” Peter asks curiously, shovelling a large lump of mashed potato into his mouth.

“Top grades,” she winks at him.

“She sat there for two hours, dripping water onto the ground and got flying colors. Meanwhile I’m the idiot who studied for weeks and got marked down twenty points for --”

The end of her sentence gets cut off by the sound of a car approaching the property, headlights flashing through the windows.

Then, a knock at the door.

“Ah, that must be…” Ed trails off, wiping his hand on a napkin before standing. “Excuse me.”

He goes to answer the front door, Margaret continues her story albeit much more quietly until the voices of Ed and their guest filter through, becoming progressively louder.

“Sorry to intrude, I know it’s the holidays --”

Wait. That voice is familiar.

“Nonsense,” Ed interrupts, “you know you’re welcome anytime. You’re practically family, kid. Come in, we’re eating now, you’re just in time.”

Peter’s fork clangs loudly on his plate when he sees their visitor, unable to keep his grip on the utensil as his limbs start to tingle. He forgets how to breathe for a second, entire body going hot.

Ed’s arm is around Tony Stark and they’re approaching through the living room, heading right for them. There’s a fresh cut on his lip and an ugly, wreath of bruising around his jaw and neck, deeply purple, speckled spots of burst capillaries visible from even where he’s sitting.

The worst part isn’t the intrusion. It’s how Tony looks unlike himself; he looks small and skittish, gaze flicking nervously around the room, arms curled around his waist. Something in his chest starts to feel the closer he gets, weird, hot and unwieldy, burning, like a hot poker has been drawn across his sternum.

“You’re the best, Jar...vis,” Tony trails off when he spots the Parkers, eyes zeroing in on Peter.

“Um,” Peter says, sharing a surprised look with May, not knowing what else to say.

But then suddenly Tony is shaking his head, shrugging out of Ed’s embrace and backing up, the skittish look gone and replaced with anger.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. No fucking way.”

Then he turns, and leaves.

----

tagging: @bylerboyfriends @ravens-starker-stuff, @starker-rays, @ironspiderstarker, @muse-of-gods, @notfor-temporaryuse, @tabbycat1220, @sugarfreecult, @rebel13lion39, @plueschpop, @spideravocados, @jellybbunny, @booktrashme, @elfkido, @mycatislickingmybedsheets, @queerghostboyo, @disneyprincessdominatrix, @cherrygoldlove @starkerflowers@starkeristheendgame @thewolffearsher @starkersugar , @starkerforlife6969, @css1992, @parkerrbitch, @fuckmemrstark, @blankblankityblank, @ilovemoreid, @blaquedecember, @killmylonelysoul, @notfor-temporaryuse, @arvaen, @chaos-with-a-pen, @notnormallaura, @portiamarie02, @bloodymisanthropist, @ser-no-tonin, @staticwhispersinthedark

#starker #tony stark x peter parker #ironspider #high school au

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ceasarslegion · 3 years ago

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Submitting instead of asking because I cannot express any idea in less than like 500 words lol

So I had been following WayneRadioTV for a while but had only ever seen one of his streams (chimps for charity) and nothing else.. Then one day I get yet another notification he's streaming and on a whim I go, "Sure, let's see what this dude is doing." And that turned out to be the very first hlvrai stream! [Insert meme of spongebob pointing at himself on TV, but it's me pointing at myself in the chat of the HLVRAI streams] Having no knowledge of any of his similar previous streams or about any of his friends made it an incredibly weird/hilarious/surreal/surprising experience. I think part of the reason I got so into it was because of how blindsided I was by it.

Ironic or serious?

I was absolutely non-ironically hooked by the end of the first stream.

Twitch or Youtube?

Made sure to catch every stream from then on, and then watched the youtube videos when they came out as well. I tuned into the commentary too.

How passionate?

I was extremely obsessed with it for... I dunno, a few months, at least. I'm very passionate in general about the way long-form improv can coalesce into a unique and interesting story, and HLVRAI is no different. It's still my main fandom (or tied for it, at least?) but the super-fun, super-obsessed days are behind me.

Make/engage in fan content?

I drew some and wrote bits and pieces of fic here and there, but I didn't publish anything outside of my small discord until something like a year after the first stream. It's been... a steady but very slow output from me, as is usually the case with any fandom I'm in. I looked at a lot of art and fic for a good few months in the beginning, but mostly stopped eventually because the fandom was/is so horrendous that it wasn't worth putting up with it for the content. :') (Now 95% of the hlvrai content i consume is made by people in my private little discord)

Following content creators?

I followed Wayne on Twitch already, as I mentioned. I didn't know of anyone else in the crew beforehand (although their meme presence was certainly felt far and wide). I followed Gir, Holly, Baaulp, Scorpy, and Log afterward for quite a while, but I don't follow any of them anymore, including Wayne. I still follow Wayne on Tumblr though.

Favorite characters/moments?

My favorite character was always Tommy. Second favorite is probably Bubby. I really love Darnold but I don't think about him much since he has so little screentime. I actually found Benry to be a little annoying and tedious at first. He was definitely the character I was the least interested in. When I saw the emerging popularity of Benry/Gordon, I knew it was only a matter of time before I was Mere-Exposure-Effect'ed into liking him... And I was right, haha. I have to admit I love that sort of ship dynamic.

As for moments.. Gah, There are so many I love that just aren't on the top of my head right now. >_< Benry's monologue at the end is a classic, of course. Also the part with Coomer quietly saying, "None of this is real, is it?" And I love the parts where they're just sitting in a circle and talking.

One of the big reasons I looked forward to the streams was definitely because I wanted to see what would happen with the characters / I just wanted to see more of them in general.

Know anyone IRL?

I introduced my IRL friend to it, and she thought it was hilarious, but she didn't get into it in a fandom sense. Everything else has been online. (And mostly in small private discords.)

Other Stuff

Idk if any of the following would be relevant to the paper at all, but I don't feel like I've completely told My HLVRAI Story without it.

1) I got suuuper into half life through hlvrai. I had actually already played the HL series before, years ago, and it didn't really leave much of an effect on me. But for some reason I LOVE it now. Maybe it's because hlvrai made me think more deeply about the HL universe?

2) Cannot possibly stress enough how negative my experience of the fandom was. At this point I don't actually like seeing most content or even talk of HLVRAI from people I don't already know, because I have this pavlovian response of getting upset. I'm honestly very surprised I'm still into hlvrai with how thoroughly and irreversibly I've managed to connect it to bad experiences in my mind. -_- (That's kind of just what fandom in general is like these days, though... At least in my experience.)

Well... This ended up being way longer than I thought it was going to be, and that's saying something. No hard feelings if you don't wanna post it because of that, or because of the negative bits. ^^;;

#submission #thanks so much!!#HLVR:AI paper

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lakesandquarries · 4 years ago

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Baby Shoes - Chapter 1

Bubby has been a doctor at Black Mesa for 20 years, living there for 50. He's been bouncing around from project to project, working on whatever needs most help. He doesn't have any opinions on his work or his coworkers or anything like that, preferring to keep to himself.

Then he meets Black Mesa's newest project.

AKA: Bubby is Benrey's dad au.

SOME NOTES, PLEASE READ: this fic contains graphic violence and child abuse and temporary character death of a minor. To skip that scene stop reading after “I had no idea about any loose subjects.” I’ll write a summary underneath.

other notes: title from “Baby Shoes” by Bad Books. I’m posting this as a birthday present to myself and i hope you enjoy!

AO3 Link

He’s never been down this hall before, not in 20 years of working at Black Mesa or the 30 years living here before that. The biological research labs were always off limits, the risk of him running into a prototype too high for anyone’s comfort.

But the prototypes are all gone now, finally. Bubby doesn’t understand why they kept them around for so long, but apparently they were all killed, or died, or whatever. He hadn’t paid much attention to what the scientist was telling him, more focused on the idea of an entire new wing being available to him.

It’s - well. It’s Black Mesa. Regardless of the department, everything looks about the same. Grey walls, grey ceilings, grey floors. Generic looking people in lab coats with various stains and tears walking around. They seem a little more frazzled here than in the robotics department, where he’s currently stationed, but it’s not surprising that living specimens might be a bit more stressful to deal with.

No one questions him as he wanders through the halls, quickly getting lost in the maze of identical corridors. There’s all sorts of containers with all sorts of creatures, and the sight is not a pleasant one. A few are even kept in tubes much too similar to his own for his comfort, and he hurries away from them quickly.

There’s so much. One cage contains a creature that looks like a mix between a raccoon and a giant orange cat. A glass box holds small creatures resembling butterflies with scorpion-like tails ready to strike. In another corner is a tank with some kind of glowing fish.

Perhaps it’s a good thing he’s never been assigned to this area.

He passes a small cage that looks completely empty, the bars in the back distended, and it’s not until he sees a dark shape scuttle down the hall that he realizes something has escaped.

Bubby’s not sure why he follows after it, rather than finding someone and letting them know. Perhaps it’s his memory of his own escape attempts, or some kind of reckless bravery. Regardless, he chases after it, speeding down the hall. There’s a closet at the end, the door slightly ajar. He makes his way over and swings the door open without a second thought.. “Hello?” he calls, flipping on the light. It’s full of cleaning supplies, shelves on the verge of collapse, and a shape hiding behind the mop bucket.

The shape doesn’t seem to be able to settle on what it is, a dark mass that keeps shifting as Bubby crouches down. It solidifies as he watches it, deciding on a vaguely humanoid shape, with pale desaturated skin and black hair covering its face. It’s dressed in a hospital gown, covered in dark oily stains. When it brushes its hair back it reveals large yellow eyes and some kind of dark smudge covering the upper half of its face.

“I’m not going back, you can’t make me,” it says, baring its teeth, tiny fists balled up, and Bubby blinks.

“I - I’m not here to take you back,” he says. “I don’t even work here. To be perfectly honest, I’m not even supposed to be in this area.”

The creature tilts its head, curling in on itself. Its teeth are still barred, but it’s hard to feel threatened.

“I wouldn’t even know where to take you.” He thinks back to his own tube, the few times in his childhood that he’d been allowed to leave, and shudders. “You - I take it you’re one of the, er, experiments here?”

The creature - the child? - nods. Bubby crouches down, pulling back the sleeve of his lab coat, revealing the marking on the inside of his wrist. There’s text reading 88U and a barcode in black ink. The child’s eyes go wide as they look up at Bubby. “You - you’re not -” They reach out and gently touch Bubby’s wrist before pulling their hand away again. “Not a doctor? You - you’re like me?” Holding out their wrist, the code 'XEN-3' with a similar barcode was stamped on their flesh. The raised text and fresh ink confirming the branding was still new. Bubby's chest clenches at the sight.

“A bit, yes. I’m not required to stay in my tube anymore, though.”

“They let you out?”

Bubby nods. “I’m an employee here now. Have my own dorm room and everything.” He’s also technically still Black Mesa property, but it's good to give the child a bit of hope. “My name is Bubby. And yours is...?”

The child hunches their shoulders, looking to the side. “I - I don’t have one.”

“Well, that won’t do. Would - may I give you a name?”

They look up at him again, humming a sharp, high note, and some strange peach and blue bubbles fall out of their mouth. Bubby reaches forward, touching one with his finger, and it dissolves into a cloud of mist. A feeling of - gratitude? Yes, gratitude, and excitement, and joy washes over him.

“Sorry!” the child squeaks, covering their mouth with their hands. “I - I didn’t mean to -”

“Is that...is this how you express yourself?” Bubby asks, watching the other bubbles fade. The child nods.

“They called it the, uh, Black Mesa Sweet Voice.”

“Interesting name.”

“I didn’t - I didn’t mean to do it, I’m sorry, I -”

Bubby reaches a slow, tentative hand forward. When the child doesn’t recoil, he places it on their head, patting gently. “It’s quite alright. Nothing wrong with it. Now, we were talking about a name?”

The child raises their head to butt against Bubby’s hand, so he continues to pat them as he thinks. Xen, obviously, is not a name. There was a scientist named Ben though, wasn’t there? Benjamin something or other. It’s not a bad name, but it’s a bit plain for the child in front of him. Benny could work - but it feels a bit too close to Bubby’s own name, following the same basic formula. He needs another letter to differentiate it.

“Benrey,” he says out loud.

The child makes a trilling noise. “Benrey?”

“As a name. Do you like it?”

“Benrey,” they repeat. “Beeenreeey. Benrey.” Their face splits into a smile, revealing far too many sharp teeth. “Benrey!”

“I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

“That’s me,” Benrey says, tapping their hand on the ground. “I’m Benrey!”

“It’s nice to meet you, Benrey,” Bubby says, smiling back at them. They launch themself forward, barreling into Bubby’s chest in some approximation of a hug.

“Thank you,” they mumble, and he can only assume there’s more of the Sweet Voice because that same wave of delighted gratitude washes over him.

It’s at that moment that someone steps up from behind, shoes clicking on the ground. Benrey pulls away before Bubby can blink, shifting back into nothing but a mass of shadow. They slip back into their previous hiding spot. Bubby turns to see an older woman, brown hair pulled into a tight bun and a myriad of red stains covering her lab coat.

“You,” she says sharply.

“Me?” Bubby asks, touching a finger to his chest.

“Yes, you. We’ve been looking all over for you! There’s a highly dangerous subject on the loose, we can’t risk it injuring you. What are you doing in here?”

Are they talking about Benrey? The tiny little child? “I’m just exploring,” Bubby says, standing up and brushing his lab coat off. “I had no idea about any loose subjects.”

The woman squints at him, and then her head darts to the side. She pulls out a gun from her holster. “Get out of the way,” she says, shoving him to the side and completely knocking him over, and shoots before Bubby can react. The gun shot is loud, but the pained noise that Benrey makes feels even louder. He scrambles to get up, biting back on a scream, but the woman has already grabbed Benrey by the back of the neck. They’ve taken that humanoid shape again, only now there’s a gunshot wound in the middle of their chest. Benrey blinks at him, once, and then their eyes fall shut and their head droops forward.

“I - Did you just kill them?!” His hands tense, holding back the urge to reach forward and strangle this woman. “They - it looked like a child.”

The woman huffs. “It’s only temporary. It always comes back, it’ll be fine.”

“Why - why not just use tranquilizers? This seems...unnecessary.” It’s cruel, is what it is. Bubby can’t stop staring at Benrey’s limp form.

“Tranqs don’t work. Gun’s easier.” She sighs, stepping past Bubby and holding the door open for him. “You should head back to Robotics.”

“I - I suppose.” Is this what shock feels like? His head is spinning and his legs feel unsteady.

“Don’t wander around here like that again. This could’ve gone a lot worse.” She finally holsters her gun, keeping an eye on Bubby as she does so. The wound in Benrey’s chest is seeping blood, thick and dark.

“Yes. Okay.” He squeezes past her, reaching out to give Benrey one last pat on the head, and leaves.

SCENE SUMMARY: female scientist shoots benrey to incapacitate/kill him, stating tranquilizers don't work and it's easier and that benrey will be fine.(spoiler he is). bubby heads back to robotics department.

#hlvrai #half life vr but the ai is self aware #bubby #bubby (hlvrai)#benrey #benry #baby shoes au #cora writes

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livesincerely · 4 years ago

Text

it’s so easy (too easy) to love you, ch. 2 (END)

Also on Ao3. Chapter 1 here.

00000

“Jack is such a dumbass.”

Davey blinks his way out of his stupor. Tony is staring towards where Jack disappeared out the front door, his expression a mix of exasperation, annoyance, and sheer bafflement.

“Like, I forget sometimes, but he’s actually just a complete fucking moron, isn’t he?” Tony says. “I can’t believe he’s what counts as responsible adult supervision.”

Charlie heaves a massive sigh, shoving his math textbook to the side. “Yeah, that wasn’t his best moment.”

“Not his best moment?” Tony asks, incredulous. “How many years has it been at this point? Seven? Eight?”

“Eight,” Charlie gloomily confirms, shaking his head.

“Eight years we’ve been tryin’ to convince him to pull his head outta his ass and make a move and this is the shit he pulls? Really? He’s lucky that Davey’s basically a sure thing because Jesus Christ—“

Davey’s never been so confused in his entire life. Tony gears up into a full-on rant, splotches of red creeping further and further across his face with each word; Charlie clearly commiserates, chiming in with his own grievances every now and then.

And Davey’s listening, he’s doing his best to follow along, but he must not be understanding correctly. He can’t be. Because it sounds like Tony is implying that Jack…

“—I mean, he’s been in love with him for ages, so he musta had a plan, right? Some sorta idea, even if he’s too chicken shit to do anything with it? Well, I guess somethin’s better than nothin,’ but come on, you’d think he could do better than plantin’ one on Davey by accident—“

Davey’s heart does a series of pirouettes around his chest. He croaks out, “Wait, what?”

“I said, Jack shoulda done better than kissing you, then takin’ off—“

“No, I mean—“ Davey pauses, swallowing around a sudden dryness in his throat. “Go back to the part where you said Jack’s in love with me.”

“Uh, okay, what about it?” Tony says, brow furrowed—like he doesn’t understand what Davey’s getting at.

Davey stares at him. “Jack isn’t in love with me.”

Tony and Charlie exchange a loaded glance.

“Yes, he is, Davey,” Charlie says cautiously. Davey thinks he’d be more irritated with the gentle handling if it weren’t for the fact that his world is tilting off its axis.

“Jack isn’t in love with me,” Davey repeats. The words feel numb as they leave his lips, but he says them anyway. To think otherwise seems unfathomable. “Jack isn’t— Jack can’t be in love with me. I’d know if he was.”

“Yeah, you’d think so, wouldn’t ya?” Tony mutters.

“No, he is,” Charlie insists. “He’s, like, ridiculously in love with you.”

Davey doesn’t know where to even begin processing that statement. He leans back heavily in his chair and a small, distant part of his brain is grateful that he’s already sitting down, as this revelation would have sent him to the floor. The larger part of his brain is screaming.

“What makes you so sure?” he eventually asks, once he finds the words.

Tony throws him a look. “I have functional fucking eyes.”

“We’re sure, Davey,” Charlie cuts in patiently. “We are absolutely, definitely sure.”

The possibility rattles around Davey’s mind, then starts to take a more solid form. Jack’s in love with me, Jack’s in love with me, Jack’s in love with me.

“He never said anything,” Davey says.

“Yeah, no shit. If it was up to him he woulda taken that one to his grave,” Tony says, rolling his eyes. “But you don’t really need him to say anything—you can just tell.”

“I can’t tell!” Davey disagrees, the tone of his voice edging towards shrill.

“But that’s just you,” Charlie says, like that explanation makes any kind of sense. “Trust us, it’s really obvious to everyone else. Like, painfully obvious.”

“You do realize that the two of you have basically been married for years, right?” Tony asks, raising his eyebrows. “You’re, like, disgustingly domestic and you flirt with each other all the time. Like, all the time.”

Jack’s in love with me, Jack’s in love with me, Jack’s in love with me.

“Please get together already,” Charlie pleads. “I can’t take it anymore, and obviously Jack can’t be trusted to make good decisions—” Here he and Tony exchange a commiserating look; Davey can only imagine what they’ve been privy to when he isn't around. “—so it’s gonna hafta be you.”

“What do I do?” Davey asks, completely overwhelmed. “I mean, he ran away! Should I go after him?”

“What, are you gonna chase him down in the rain?” Tony says with a snort. “Just talk to him when he gets back.”

“Give him a chance to calm down,” Charlie advises. “And, uh, maybe you should calm down a bit too—you kinda look like you’re gonna pass out.”

“Well, that was kind of a lot,” Davey retorts, but the words have no heat behind them.

“Besides, it’s not like Jack can hide from you forever,” Tony adds with a shrug. “You know where he sleeps.”

Davey can’t decided if he loves or hates how reassuring that is.

00000

The streams of sunlight that cut through the blinds wake Davey up the next morning. A glance at the clock tells him that it’s nearly nine; he’s surprised he slept through Charlie and Tony leaving for school, but after the emotional upheaval of last night, they must have made a point not to wake him.

He lays there for a long time, blinking up at the ceiling and watching the overhead fan spin in lazy circles. Jack had sent him a single text last night, warning him that his phone was about to die and he had to stay late at work; Davey had tried to wait up for him, but finally fell asleep a little after three am. There’s a flicker of worry at the thought of Jack—wondering if he was making up excuses to avoid him, wondering what to say when he sees him next—but the anxiety of last night has transformed into something hazy and distant.

Davey’s been in love with Jack for years; he’d long since resigned himself to living with that love quietly. The only thing that’s changed is there’s a possibility that Jack loves him back, so really, what’s there to worry about?

Eventually, he throws back the covers and hauls himself upright. He pulls a sweatshirt on over his pajamas, disregarding the way it makes his already tousled hair even more of a disaster, and shuffles slowly down the hall.

The growl of his stomach reminds him that it’s well past his usual breakfast time. Davey wanders into the kitchen and begins pulling supplies out of the cabinets by route, and before he knows it, he’s got the beginnings of a breakfast going.

Everything takes on a different aspect in the light of this new day—details that Davey’s always known, but has never been fully conscious of. The skillet he grabs is a hefty cast iron monstrosity that belonged to his Bubbie—it lives at Jack’s place because Davey’s dorm’s kitchen is the size of a shoebox and hasn’t been renovated in decades, and also because Davey’s never been in the habit of cooking for one.

The coffee maker is new: he and Jack had to get a new one last month after their old one finally crapped out. They’d spent the better part of an hour at the local Bed, Bath & Beyond, bickering back and forth about which one to get until a salesperson finally took pity on them and pointed them towards a sturdy model solidly in the middle of their price range. Davey grabs his favorite mug—a pale blue one with a chip on the handle from where Tony dropped it one time—and fills it with the first pour of a fresh brew. The coffee, of course, is from his favorite place around the corner, a blend that Jack always claims is too expensive, but keeps on buying for him.

It’s scattered all around him, the countless ways that his and Jack’s lives are intertwined. Davey almost can’t believe that it’s taken him this long to notice, but maybe that’s just it: this has been his normal for ages, so why would he notice it?

Davey hums softly to himself as he works, the quiet punctuated only by the buzz of the refrigerator and the hiss of the coffee maker, which is why it’s so surprising to glance up and notice Jack standing in the doorway, his expression a little pinched around the edges and still dressed in his clothes from yesterday, though noticeably rumpled.

“Jack!” Davey says, startled. “I didn’t hear you come in. When did you get— wait, did you spend the night at the office?”

Jack looks at him funny, like he was expecting Davey to say something else. “I missed the last subway and I didn't have money for a cab.”

“Maybe you should start keeping some things at work,” Davey says, frowning slightly. “Like, a pillow and a toothbrush and stuff like that. You’ve been having a lot of night shifts recently and that couch in your break room looks like it’s older than I am, so I know it can’t be comfortable to sleep on—“

“Are you making breakfast?” Jack interrupts, one hand braced against the doorframe. There’s something pointed about the question: accusing and disbelieving and conflicted all at the same time.

Davey looks at the assortment of ingredients gathered around him—milk, flour, butter, eggs, blueberries—then down at the bowl of pancake batter he’s in the middle of whisking. “Uh… yes?”

Jack barks out a laugh, but it’s tinged with a hint of hysteria. “I thought you’d be— But instead you’re— Why?”

“I always make breakfast on Fridays,” Davey says, because it’s true. He beckons Jack forward with a nod of his head. “Here, come help me with this, you’re better at flipping the pancakes than I am.”

Jack scrubs a hand over his mouth, then seems to rally himself.

“Okay,” he mutters, clearly not intending for Davey to hear him. “Okay… so it’s like that. Okay.” Then louder he says—with an incredibly lackluster attempt at his usual grin that wouldn’t fool anyone, let alone Davey—“Yeah, sure Dave, I gotcha.”

Davey lifts himself up to sit on the counter next to the stove while Jack steps up to the cooktop. He watches silently as Jack pours the batter into the skillet, nudging at the edges with his spatula until they start to firm up. It should be an easy, simple moment together—something they’ve done countless times before. Instead, the space between them is thick with unspoken tension.

Davey considers his options. He takes in the stiff line of Jack’s shoulders and remembers the look on Jack’s face yesterday—soft affection burnt away by panic. He waits for just the right moment, then says, “So, Tony and Charlie seem to think that you’re in love with me.”

The reaction is immediate. Jack jerks in surprise—a full-body flinch—and the pan slips out of his hands. It hits the burner with a clattering bang and the half-cooked batter goes flying halfway across the kitchen, then hits the floor with a splat.

“Yeah,” Davey comments mildly, taking in the mess with no small measure of satisfaction. “That’s about how I felt too.”

Jack makes a strangled noise: like he’s going to deny it, like he thinks he has to deny it, like it’s never occurred to him to do otherwise. And sure, Davey had never considered broaching the topic either, but Davey’s not the one that kissed and ran.

“No, don’t even start with that,” Davey begins before Jack can say anything. “You’re in love with me, I know you’re in love with me. The boys finally told me last night—apparently it’s obvious, but I never would’ve guessed if they hadn’t said something. And if you hadn’t kissed me.”

He gestures at the remnants of breakfast. “That’s for leaving me to freak out last night, by the way. Also, Tony told me to tell you that you’re the World’s Biggest Dumbass, and I can’t say I disagree with him.”

Jack’s eyes have gone very wide. An assortment of emotions flit across his face, but none remain long enough for Davey to identify them.

“Sorry about that,” Jack eventually says. The words come out slow and a little jagged, like he’s having trouble keeping his voice steady. “I shouldn’t have done that—I didn’t mean to kiss ya, it just kinda happened—but I understand if you’re mad at me or if ya need me to—“

“Oh my god,” Davey says, shaking his head even as a surge of affection rushes through him, “you really are a dumbass.” He jumps down off the counter and holds out a hand. “Jackie, come here.”

Jack stumbles forward, visibly unsure. Davey can’t imagine what he’s thinking is about to happen, can’t imagine how Jack can stand here with him in their kitchen in their home and not know that they’re in this together, just like they always are.

Davey threads their fingers together, tugging Jack those last few steps so that they’re standing chest to chest. He brings his other hand up to Jack’s face, dragging his fingers over his forehead until the furrow in Jack’s brow relaxes, until his expression begins to brighten with tentative hope, then down around the curve of his jaw to tilt Jack’s head that much closer to his own.

Jack moves easily, immediately, when Davey touches him—only the slight hitch in his breath indicates that this is unexplored territory—and it’s so simple for Davey to just lean up and kiss him.

Soft. Sweet. It feels brand new. It feels like they’ve done this hundreds of times.

“Just in case that wasn’t clear enough,” Davey murmurs as they part, impossibly happy and feeling like his heart might burst with it. “I want you to know that I’m in love with you.”

Jack’s answering smile seems to light him up from the inside out. “Oh yeah? Well, word on the street is, I’m in love with you too.”

#newsies #javid #Jack Kelly #davey jacobs #*final cut #*the writing desk #the one where it's domestic #wow more self-indulgent romance #*editor's note

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immortalcoelacanth · 4 years ago

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PTA: Science Team (HLVRAI Fic 1/3)

*pulls dusty story out of garage and drops it into Tumblr*

I have been trying to finish the first chapter for AGES, and I finally got it done! I crave PTA AU content due to the wholesomeness and angst, and I just had to work on one short fic for this fandom. So, welcome to the first chapter out of three!

Word count: 1788

Summary: PTA meetings are a sham and no one hates them more than Gordon, but upon being forced to miss a “mandatory” meeting because of work, Benrey comes up with a brilliant idea to deal with this problem.

Chapter 1: Hostile Arrangements Require Equally Hostile Solutions

“Fuck! Shit! Okay-okay, I’ll just-motherfucker she did what?!”

Cursing was in Gordon’s nature. He often used it as a way to express his angry, dismay, shock, and all sorts of other negative emotions. As such it was not unusual to see pacing about and spitting insults left and right.

What was unusual, however, was the fact that he was cursing in his own home. He had a strict swearing free zone in effect as a way to stop Joshua from picking up on any foul language, including a swear jar that tended to fill up whenever Bubby visited. It was quite fortunate that Joshua was currently being distracted by Benrey as the pair had been playing video games together for the past hour or so.

Or they had been until, in a surprising display of stealth, Benrey crept out of the young boy’s room and slowly approached the frustrated Gordon.

Gordon, who was currently continuing to quietly yell into his cell phone.

“Are you kidding me?! I was scheduled for a meeting on the weekend! I have work tonight! How in the FUCK did she-”

“psssst, hey, hey feetman. you might wanna chill out there and, uh, stuff. turn down the volume.” Benrey cut in while pointing the tv remote at Gordon and clicking the volume button. “don’t wanna be a bad boy and teach joshie any naughty words.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Gordon sighed, no real anger in his voice before redirecting his attention back to the phone call. “No, not you Natasha, it was just Benrey-”

“tell tasha her cookies are baller.”

“Wha-baller? Who the fuck says baller anymore?!”

“c’moooooooon man, be a bro.”

“Natasha I am so sorry-tell her that yourself!”

“i can’t feeman, you know i don’t have a phone.”

“YOU WERE THE ONE WHO STUCK IT IN THE MICROWAVE!”

“i-i was just chagrin’ the battery with those radio waves, man. ads… they never lie.”

Laughter could be heard coming from the phone in response to the conversation going on between the two men. It was enough to snap Gordon out of his somewhat enraged state and refocus on whatever it was that Natasha was telling him. He gestured for Benrey to leave and only succeeded in shooing the ex-guard to the kitchen so he could have some peace.

Not that the peace lasted long based on the muttered cursing and general sounds of Gordon stomping around.

About ten minutes later, the frustrated physicist joined him in the kitchen, quickly making himself a cup of coffee and grumbling under his breath. Welp, looked like this was the perfect moment for some interrogation.

“soooooo, wha was that about?” Benrey asked as he took another bite of the block of cheese he had been digging into. If you asked him, he’d say it tasted pretty gouda.

Damn, he needed to torment Gordon with more puns again.

“Fucking-” Gordon exhaled sharply and ran a hand through his messy hair, too angry to noticed how Benrey reached out and gently pulled at some of the locks, watching them bounce and resume their previously curly shape. “Linda.”

Well, there went his good mood.

Benrey’s eyes immediately narrowed, becoming nothing more than glowing slits in his shadowy face, as a disgruntled frown replaced his previous smile. Even the cheese in his hand seemed to start burning, smoke wafting off it as it began to melt in response to the sheer anger that name invoked in him.

Linda Smith, the scourge of the neighborhood and one of the most uptight, pieces of shit that Benrey had ever encountered. A narcissist with a massive superiority complex, she constantly put down everyone around her who she thought of as being inferior.

Which was just a cover for how much of a racist shitwad she was, plus there were the various comments she made about fags invading the neighborhood.

An obvious insult aimed at not just Gordon and Benrey, but the other “not normal” couples that lived here and there. Poor Joshua had overheard some of the insults on multiple occasions, and she had called the kid a mutt to his face-

“Benrey? You wanna calm down before you poke holes in the ceiling again?”

Fortunately, Gordon’s exasperated voice snapped Benrey out of his enraged state before he accidentally inflicted more damage to the kitchen. A place that had seen many, many small explosions and fires. At this point, he towered over the other man as sharpened, boney spikes poked out of his back and scrapped the ceiling. Plaster fell and dusted the countertop.

“oops, s-sorry dude.” Benrey awkwardly shrugged, flesh dripping from his arms and face in a rather gruesome display, not that Gordon was bothered by this. He was used to how… horrific his partner could become.

Especially when someone mentioned Joshua being hurt or insulted in any way. It was actually quite wholesome thinking about how much Benrey cared about the young boy and how much their friendship had bloomed since they first met.

“I get it.” Gordon sighed. “She’s such a bitch she’d make anyone Hulk out.”

“ten points for the ref there, feetman.”

The physicist somewhat seriously flipped Benrey off, making him laugh, before continuing to rant about the purpose of the now finished phone call.

“I still can’t believe that stupid school listened to her, and I’m not the only one getting fucked over here!” He spat. “I can’t just drop out-”

It was at this moment that the source of Gordon’s rage dawned on Benrey, and the ex-guard spoke up. “wait, the school thingy?”

“You mean meeting?”

“ya.”

Gordon groaned and hid his face in his hands. “The MEETING! Linda fucked up my schedule! I don��t know what she said to the administrator, but they canceled the weekend meeting I was booked for and rescheduled me for tonight. When I have WORK!”

Benrey winced in sympathy and reached out to pat Gordon’s shoulder with his not cheese coated hand. “damn, th-that’s a real cringe move. can’t you get, uh, joshie’s mom to take care of it? s...shea?”

“I can’t,” Gordon muttered, face muffled by his hands. “Shea’s been on a business trip for some conference and she gets back in five days.”

“oooooh, that’s why you’ve had little josh bro for so long?”

Rather than respond, the physicist just continued to groan and hide his face in his hands as he tried to figure out how to fix the mess he had been caught up in.

Joshua’s school had a very… specific structure to how it was run. Standard funding and where it would be directed was determined by the staff, however, sometimes the school would receive donations or raise large amounts of money through fairs and other events.

And it was how this extra funding would be spent that the local community had the chance to weigh in on. Determining if it should be used to get more sports supplies, help fund after school programs, or be used to help make the school more accessible.

The ramp that had been added two years ago was one such example of the potential good that these extra funds had, however there was one problem with this process.

All parents were required to attend a meeting and voice their thoughts. This was a rather new development that had been added after a small group of disgruntled parents, ones who had objected to using the extra funds to improve the school and arguing that it should go towards planning fun trips instead, had tried to sue the school board.

Of course, the case had immediately been thrown out and dismissed, but it had set a dangerous precedent. A precedent that now made it mandatory for all parents to attend one meeting to determine their opinions on where the funding should be used and write it down so they could not claim their voices had not been heard.

Honestly, it was such a stupid arrangement in Gordon’s opinion. Why not just send out an email? Or forms that kids could take home to their parents. It was so… disruptive and annoying, especially for single parents who had to work long hours.

Like him.

His hands tensed, nails nearly dug into his skin before Benrey carefully moved them, holding them. As Gordon looked up, the ex-guard sent him an awkward yet warm smile. An attempt at reassuring him that things would turn out alright.

“hey... you-you gotta chillax feetman, things’ll be okay-”

“How the hell am I supposed to chillax in this situation?!” Gordon barked as he removed his hands from Benrey’s, shoved himself out of his seat, and began pacing around, furiously staring at the floor.

“I’ve been fucked over by some racist bitch! Joshua needs someone there and it has to be someone who has some kind of guardianship over him for that stupid funding bullshit!”

As his partner raged on about the unfairness and overall stupidity of the situation, Benrey decided that it was time to think. To think, and plot, and come up with something that would hopefully calm Gordon down while solving the problem that Linda had caused.

Simply put, Joshua needed someone who had designated guardianship over him to be present during the meeting to act in his best interests. Not surprisingly, Benrey did not have this title due as both he and Gordon had agreed that it would not be the best idea due to both his inhumane nature and the potential destruction he might cause.

But, that did not mean that only Shea and Gordon were listed as the young boy’s guardians. There was one other who had been granted the title in case of an emergency, although his presence had never been needed up until this point, which was probably why Gordon had forgotten about him in his stressed out state.

Dr. Coomer, one of Joshua’s “grandpas”.

And, of course, if one member of the Science Team went somewhere, then the rest had to follow. The Science Team stuck together through thick and thin, no matter the strife or struggle and always left chaos in their wake.

Hostile arrangements required equally hostile solutions, after all.

“this is gonna be baller.” Benrey chuckled, his eyes flashing brightly at the brilliance of his plan. Now all he had to do was get Gordon to agree to it.

“pssst, yo, xen to gaydon.”

There was something about the tone that Benrey’s voice took on that snapped Gordon out of his ranting. How calm and collected he sounded, the coherency and confidence in his words. Somewhat concerned, the physicist turned around and saw the scheming look in the ex-guard’s glowing eyes as his fingers drummed on the table.

“feetman, i got a plan.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I would like to make it clear that no offense is intended towards anyone named Linda, aside from the one racist Linda I know that she was named after who will never, ever read this so my sins will forever remain unknown :>

#my story #fanfiction #hlvrai #hlvrai gordon #hlvrai benrey #pta au #humor #quick warning that a racist and homophobic character is mentioned #and as such her crimes of using slurs are used #chapter one of three

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kraviolis · 4 years ago

Text

lost in the in-between (or so it seems) - HLVRAI

Chapter: 1/5 Rating: Teen Relationships: Benrey/Gordon Freeman, Gordon & The Science Team, Background Bubby/Coomer Words: 7k Additional Tags: Post-Canon, PTSD, Nightmares, Sleep Deprivation, Panic Attacks, Hurt/Comfort, Healing, Not A Game AU, Paranoia, Accidental Date Chaperoning, Zoo Day, Autistic Tommy Coolatta, Touch-Starved Gordon, Emotional Breakdowns, Romantic Relationships Are Not The Focus Content Warnings: Panic Attack, Drinking, Not Safe Decisions Summary:

(Sequel to “you gotta wonder what it meant”) It’s been a few weeks since their escape from Black Mesa, and Gordon is struggling with nightmares and intense panic without really understanding why. Everything feels like an uphill battle these days, and Gordon’s forgotten that asking for help is something he’s allowed to do and that his friends are ready and willing to provide it.

AO3 LINK

____

“Gordon?”

Gordon jumps in his seat, jerking his head to look at whoever had said his name. He meets Dr. Coomer’s eyes, wide and uneasy. “Sorry, I just— what were we talking about?”

Gordon looks around the metal table, adjusting his head slightly to get the sun out of his eyes. Sunkist makes a soft whine from under the table, and everyone has paused in the middle of their meals. Bubby and Tommy are staring at him just like Dr. Coomer, all with varying expressions on their faces.

Bubby is frowning in annoyance at him. “Well, we were talking about how I’ve never been the zoo—“

“But then you started staring off into space and— and we got worried!” Tommy interrupts, clear concern on his face.

“Are you alright, Gordon?” Dr. Coomer asks him, his brows furrowed in worry.

“Yeah, I’m alright.” He assures them, a smile easily plastering on his face.

“Are you sure?” Bubby raises an eyebrow sharply in his direction.

“I’m sure.”

“Do you swear?” Tommy presses, putting down his fork that still had a bite of waffle on it.

“I—“ He frowns and blinks. “What’s with you guys? You usually take everything I say at face value.”

“You were staring at your omelette for a very long time, Gordon!” Dr. Coomer tells him. “It was rather worrying!”

“Guys, I’m fine. Honestly.” He sighs. “I might not be getting much sleep but that’s all—“

“Are you having nightmares, Mr. Freeman?” Tommy asks, pressing his knuckles to his mouth. “Nightmares about Bl-- Black Mesa?”

Gordon stops and looks at Tommy, tilting his head curiously. “Uh, yeah, actually. How did you know?”

“We’ve all been having nightmares.” Coomer tells Gordon, pressing his fingers together rather nervously. Tommy nods a confirmation.

“Not me.” Bubby states plainly.

“Oh,” Gordon blinks. “Why not?”

“Dr. Bubby was never built with the ability to dream!” Coomer informs him cheerfully.

“So, what, do you just do the thing where you wake up and it feels like no time’s passed at all?”

“Correct!” Dr. Coomer exclaims. “It’s the most efficient way to sleep!”

“Yeah, I guess it is. I’m a little jealous right now, honestly.” Gordon rubs at his facial hair with a small smile. “Though, it’s kinda sad to not have any dreams at all. They can be pretty fun sometimes.”

“Just rub it in, why don’t you?” Bubby crosses his arms and scowls.

“Don’t make fun of him for not being as privileged as you, Gordon! It’s bad form!”

“Ye— yeah, Mr. Freeman, that was kinda mean!”

“I was just—“ Gordon takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Bubby. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“Oh, you didn’t, but I forgive you anyways.”

“Right.” Gordon deadpans, and stands up. “Look, I gotta get going, guys, I have to keep looking for job openings. Thanks for brunch.”

He doesn’t have to reach down to give Sunkist a pet, the dog had been laying nearly under the table at her master’s feet but had perked up when Gordon stood. He grabs his leather jacket from the back of his chair and picks up his sunglasses from next to his half eaten omelette and empty coffee mug. He pauses though, and looks up to see all of them continuing to watch him carefully.

“What?” He asks, frowning. He tries to make eye contact with them individually but they all look away before he can. “What?”

“Mr. Freeman…” Tommy trails off, looking more concerned by the second.

“Are you really, very sure that you’re alright?” Dr. Coomer looks up at him almost shyly.

“Yes. I told you guys— what is this? What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“We’re just worried, Gordon.” Bubby says, sinking into his seat more. “You’ve been pretty out of it, recently.”

“Wh— dude, I just said—“

“We know you said you are but— but this has been going on for a while, now and—“ Tommy looks away again while blinking rapidly— and suddenly Gordon’s rising frustration fades instantly. Sunkist looks up at Tommy and shifts slightly so that her face is leaning on her master’s lap, nosing at his fidgety hands.

“Hey— Hey, I’m alright, Tommy!” Gordon puts his hands up and waves them around in an awkward attempt to console him. “I’m fine, okay?”

Dr. Coomer gives him a somewhat skeptical look. “Gordon...“ He trails off but doesn’t look away.

“Look, I just— Yes, I’ve been having nightmares but I’m a grown man. I pay bills, I have a doctorate from MIT in Theoretical Physics. I can handle a few nightmares.” Gordon sighs heavily, trying to let go of the tenseness in his shoulders. He attempts to put on a reassuring smile for them. “It’s nice to know that you worry about me so much, but I’ll be okay, guys. Really.”

The three of them share a glance at each other, communicating silently. When they look back to him, Bubby is the one who gives him a short, sharp nod. “Alright, then.”

“If you say so, Gordon!” Dr. Coomer smiles back at him.

Gordon’s own grin relaxes into something a little more genuine. He looks to Tommy, who is still fidgeting in his seat and avoiding eye contact. He glances up, once, before it falls back onto Sunkist. He gives him a gentle pet on Sunkist’s giant head and scrunches his eyes up for just a second before finally looking up at Gordon again, an unusual mixture of sternness and worry in his expression.

“Do you promise that you’re really okay, Mr. Freeman?” Tommy asks him, his voice low and quiet, obviously forcing himself to hold eye contact.

Gordon deflates a little, that firm pressure on his chest returning ever so slightly. “Tommy…” He murmurs, taken aback by his seriousness. He inhales. “I promise.”

Tommy shakes his head and brings his hand up, his little finger carefully extended. “You— you gotta pinky promise! You can’t ever break a pinky promise!”

Gordon raises an eyebrow and looks to the other scientists at the table. Bubby shrugs.

“If you break a ‘Pinky Promise’, you’ll be hunted by the entire U.S. Military and shot down like a rabid dog!” Dr. Coomer confirms cheerfully.

“Didn’t we kill them all?” Bubby points out. Coomer pauses for a moment to process this.

“If you break a ‘Pinky Promise’, you’ll be completely safe from the nonexistent U.S. Military— but you will be thoroughly shamed by all of us for lying!”

Gordon snorts and chuckles under his breath. He hesitates for just a second but he eventually hooks his right-hand pinky with Tommy’s, who perks up immediately.

“I pinky promise that I’m okay.” He says, and Tommy’s pleased grin lights up his face. They bob their hands, shaking on it, and Gordon pulls away to start putting on his jacket. “Now that we have that sorted, I honestly do have to go.”

“See you later, Gordon!” Dr. Coomer waves at him.

“Yeah! Bye, Mr. Freeman!” Tommy cheers.

“Is he going to finish this?” Bubby points at Gordon’s leftover omelette.

“I’ll see you guys later!” Gordon waves over his shoulder and walks away. He hops on the back of his motorcycle (parked just down the street from their brunch spot), replaces his normal glasses with his prescription sunglasses, and takes off.

He gives one last wave as he passes by their table and drives away feeling heavier than he has in days.

Gordon knows he isn’t exactly doing perfect. The fact that he even looked them all in the eyes and lied about it makes it all the more difficult in his attempt to contain it.

The nightmares… they weren’t normal nightmares. Not the kind he knew how to deal with, anyways. His throat would be hoarse when he woke up, flashing images still pounding against his skull like fists against a cage. He tried to forget about them the next morning but he was just so tired all the time, it was getting harder and harder to keep himself on track. The actual content of them varied, he never knew what to expect, but it was always horrifying enough to make him restless for the entire day.

For the past 2 weeks he’s been plagued by this— this shit and everything he’s done in an attempt to fix it has done nothing. They didn’t even start to happen until three days after—

After.

Gordon bites back a frustrated groan and clenches his right hand harder on the handle of his motorcycle. God, it’s like he can’t go just thirty minutes without thinking about fucking Benrey and Black Mesa and the week he spent in hell. He just wants to be able to live in the present, to be able to stop and smell the fucking flowers just for once in his life--

But he can’t. He can’t because that heaviness he’s felt, that distant feeling of dread, hasn’t gone away.

Gordon is losing his mind— again— trying to figure out why. Why he feels sick to his stomach all the time, why he can’t get a good night’s sleep anymore.

Why he can’t get rid of that invisible pressure on his ribcage like something is pushing down on him, trying to hold him in place.

Why he can’t stop thinking about that night— seeing the tenderness in Benrey’s face melt into the closest thing the man had to fury.

(Benrey was like a brick wall to him at first, but now he’s practically an open book.)

(He really does not want to think about why that is.)

Gordon wants to move on and forget about Black Mesa, about Benrey, but every single time he finds himself alone and sitting in silence his thoughts always drift back.

He thinks about the grin Benrey gave him when he agreed to play video games with him. He thinks about the pure joy he saw on his face as he threw his head back and laughed so hard at Gordon’s baby raging. He thinks about how it took only minutes for him to check on him, the concern in his voice through the door, his carefulness, the way he tensed before melting into his touch, the way he was swaying when Gordon leaned closer—

Gordon thinks about the expression on Benrey’s face as he was calling him out on the damn mind fuckery he was throwing at him and he feels like he wants to throw up.

He remembers how he just stood there, after Benrey had slammed the door in his face like a child. He’d just… stood there. His hands shaking and his heart pounding and the fading adrenaline making him feel woozy. He had stood there and stared at the door as if he would come back, as if his giant head would phase right through to taunt him, as if he would see a skeleton in the corner of his eye.

He’d stood there for a long time.

Benrey didn’t come back.

So he’s here, just trying to forget about it. Forget about him. Write it all off as a PTSD nightmare and ignore the physical evidence that he was ever even there.

To Gordon, Benrey was dead.

(He wasn’t and you know it.)

Benrey was fucking with his head again.

(The look in his eyes— would he be able to fake that kind of hurt?)

Benrey left, he left, and he’s not coming back.

(Please, God, come back—)

Gordon shakes the thought from his head and grits his teeth. He doesn’t have time for this. He needs to be thinking about anything else but this. Everything’s gonna go to absolute shit if he doesn’t get his head on straight.

He— he can’t get caught up in all this shit. It happened and it’s done with and he needs to move on. He can’t change what happened but he refuses to let the past control him like this. Gordon fucking refuses.

He’s putting his foot down here and now. The past is in the past. Taking back control of his life is what he needs to focus on. Keeping up with his commitments and responsibilities. Not letting himself spiral. Forcing himself to forget it all. There’s no point in hanging onto this! None! He got out and he’s safe and his friends are safe and he’s back to living his life to the fullest.

Alright. What does he have to do?

He needs to do more job searching, maybe buff up his resume. Dr. Coomer had mentioned that they needed a new physics professor at the state university in the city— he could get in contact with them. He was a TA for a short time while getting his PhD.

Oh-- Joshua is visiting for the weekend, and it’s Thursday. He needs to clean the house and pick up juice and snacks for him.

He takes a deep breath as he stops at a light and exhales long and slow. Okay. One step at time, he’s gonna get back on stable footing and leave everything else behind him. He’s moving on and forgetting about all of it.

He’s ready to take it all on.

———

When Gordon gets home the next evening he shrugs off his suit jacket, drops his wallet and keys in the bowl near the door, loosens his tie, and faceplants into his sofa with a groan.

That job interview went so shit.

He’d zoned out seven times in 15 minutes, asking multiple times for the interviewers to repeat the question, and had literally fallen asleep while waiting. He’d had a nightmare the night before, and something in it was so visceral and terrifying that it’s been stuck in his head all day. Curling in his gut like a parasite and making him jumpy.

(He had been back in Black Mesa, in it. Alone. Utterly alone.)

(The worst ones are always the ones where he didn’t have anyone watching his back. No one to distract him from the real horror that was happening. The things that he did, too.)

(No one with him as he stares into giant, dark eyes and struggles to fight against something so much bigger than he could ever understand.)

Despite all his preparation— he’d laminated his resume and ironed his suit with a pot off the stove because his steamer had gotten jammed, goddamnit— they’d told him they would call him in a tone that actually said that they would not be calling him.

Gordon groans again and reaches up to tug the hair tie out of his hair, throwing it on the coffee table, letting his hair fall to his shoulders. This was the third damn interview that he’d fucked up this month. He was going to run out of options and start applying for jobs that he was far too overqualified for. Maybe he’d have to throw his MIT doctorate in the trash because that’s all it’s fucking good for, apparently!

“Graduated summa cum laude and this is what I get,” Gordon laments to the empty house. “Nightmares about alien dimensions and a non-recyclable radiation suit that’s just a glorified pile of paper weights.”

He sighs. That was a good joke. If only someone was here to laugh at it with him.

(Benrey would have laughed.)

Gordon doesn’t have the energy to even be upset that he’s come back around to Benrey. He just feels so, so tired. Everything seems so… small, compared to what he’s gone through.

Maybe he should rob a bank. Gordon huffs out a single laugh at the thought, but still tucks it away for a rainy day.

The laugh melts into a sigh. It’s been weeks. Weeks and weeks of this. Rejected applications, failed job interviews, ignored calls and giving out resumes like candy on Halloween. He sees Joshua on the weekends, has Skype calls and brunches with the Science Team and even Darnold, once— but everything else has been nothing but pain and frustration and more pain. Something’s gonna make him snap one of these days.

Gordon presses his palms into his ryes. He needs— he needs a fucking break. A break from job hunting, from resume editing, from being a dad, from any and all reminders of Black Mesa. Like a cruise, or a vacation to somewhere tropical, or just a night out.

Gordon sits up a little.

That’s… not a bad idea, actually.

He pulls himself up fully and feels something almost like excitement bubbling in his chest.

Oh, this is a great idea.

It takes some time for Gordon to get ready. He hasn’t done this in a long time— not since he graduated and moved out west for his fancy new lab job. It’s downright exhilarating to be going through the motions again, the small little routine he’d been so fond of ever since he was an undergrad.

Gordon goes through his closet, finding his favorite— and best— outfit he’s ever owned. He has to squeeze into it a little but it’s just as incredible as he remembers— all dark navy with gold accents and a small splash orange. He gels his hair back, puts the ponytail back in, trims his beard, and trades the glasses for contacts.

When he’s done he leans back in the mirror and gets a good look at himself. Shirt buttoned down just enough to be classy and attractive, the gold studs in his ears, and flashy watch. His eyes unhidden from his glasses and with just enough mascara to make his lashes pop without it being obvious.

Gordon smiles at his reflection and strikes a few poses, giggling like a maniac because of how incredibly giddy he was to doll himself up like this again. He realizes how much he missed it now, and makes a silent promise to do it more often.

“Damn, I look nice as fuck.” He laughs, pulling out his phone. “I have to send a pic to the—“

He pauses, though. Wasn’t this supposed to be his night off? No more reminders of the bad shit, and — even if they didn’t mean to be— Tommy, Bubby, and Dr. Coomer were all living, breathing reminders of the bad shit.

Gordon hesitates for a moment, frowning. He settles to take just a couple pictures of his outfit and send one to them tomorrow.

Tonight, he’s letting himself forget.

———

When Gordon steps into the club’s doors, he finds his smile turning into a wide grin.

The bass from inside the club can be felt from outside, each thump echoes in his teeth and rings in his ears. The music is loud and the lights are flashing bright, neon colors are everywhere and constantly moving.

Rainbows adorn nearly every wall, every Mardi Gras necklace, every drag queen, every bead bracelet. The smell of sweat and alcohol is so strong and makes his head swim (painfully) pleasantly, he already feels drunk on just the feeling of being one with the crowd.

Gordon expertly maneuvers right to the bar, ready to calm that already-building (terror) anxiety in his gut with something sweet and fruity. He carefully avoids touching someone completely covered in glitter and orders one of the more expensive cocktails.

The drink is perfectly sweet and fruity and warms his stomach in such a comforting way. He smacks his lips and grins and gives the bartender a generous tip before leaning against the bar.

He stands there long enough to finish a second drink and get started on a third. Just watching the crowd, feeling the music in his chest and letting himself float on the (terrifying) euphoric feeling of being (trapped) encased in a crowd of (potential enemies) people.

Gordon sighs happily.

(Gordon sighs timidly.)

“Hey.”

Gordon (snaps) turns his head to look at the person addressing him.

They’re tall— taller than Gordon by a good couple inches— with a face Gordon can’t come up with a descriptor for other than very, VERY handsome. Their voice is deep, baritone, and they’re wearing a simple but rather catching outfit.

Gordon smiles at them, the warmth in his stomach making him feel bold (tense). “Hey.”

“I haven’t seen you around before— you new in town?”

Gordon laughs (nervously) a little. “I live here, I just don’t get out much. My schedule usually doesn’t give me much free time.”

The stranger grins and pretends to sigh sadly. “That’s a real shame— you’ve got such a nice face, you should be able to show it off more.”

Gordon’s face warms at the flirting and he quickly takes another gulp to (drown) encourage the (anxious) pleased feeling pooling in his abdomen.

The two of them begin to go back and forth, the stranger flirting more and more and Gordon slowly unraveling and relaxing.

It’s so refreshing to just have a normal conversation like this, no having to answer 5 year questions or herding the other person around in some attempt to stay on topic. He can say something funny and get a laugh instead of blank stares and a cut off greeting. He can flutter his eyelashes and watch them do the same and see them pick up every single signal he’s giving them without any misunderstandings.

(He feels guilty just thinking this— all he’s doing is blaming the Science Team for things they can’t help and things that don’t even really bother him.)

His heart rate kicks up when the stranger leans in a little more and opens their mouth— just enough for Gordon to pick up their intentions. Gordon tells himself that it’s just attraction. He’s attracted to them, they’re attracted to him, it’s all so flattering (nauseating) and overwhelming to feel a mutual attraction like this after years.

(Except he knows what attraction feels like and it’s not this—)

(Except there’s no butterflies, no warm pools, no slow motion effect, no startled inhale when he touches them gently, no softness or tenderness in their expression as they don’t look at him all wide eyed and red-faced—)

(Except they’re too tall, too slim, too nice, too gentle, too normal—)

His face flushes in delight (shame) as he wets his lips with his tongue. They smile a little as they watch him do it and they move a little faster

(He looks into their dark brown eyes— so different from icy blue— and sees only hunger.)

Gordon leans forward just as they do, closing his eyes. The warmth is his stomach is heavy and anchoring.

(The warmth is gone. There’s nothing but dread left.)

Their lips crash into his and it’s so— unceremonious, so anticlimactic. It’s cold and robotic and it makes his stomach clip into the floor. They’re pressing a hand to his jaw and chills are going down his spine as he just methodically goes through the motions.

(Would it have been just like this, he wonders? Or would it have been better— nicer?)

(It would have been better solely because of the fact that it would have been him Gordon kissed.)

His jaw moves and his head tilts just enough and he moves his hand from their hip to their waist and he feels wrong.

(They taste like rum and coke and Gordon wishes it was blue raspberry.)

It’s over just as quickly as it started and Gordon shudders as they pull away. He gasps sharply and pants, blinking rapidly as he opens his eyes. His mind is foggy— Why is his mind so foggy? He needs— it’s just the alcohol, he just needs to drink more—

He withdraws from touching them entirely— putting a finger up when they begin to question— and shakily reaches for his drink before tipping the rest of it back. It burns now and he chokes on it, swallowing forcefully and wheezing. He leans heavily on the bar and swallows again, his mouth watering as his stomach lurches.

The room is spinning— round and round again and Gordon can feel his heart pounding against his ribcage, desperate and crying for more oxygen and he’s trying— he’s trying so hard but his lungs aren’t fucking working— he can’t breathe— he can’t see—

Something grabs him by the arm and forcibly drags him away from the bar. He stumbles, grasping onto whatever it is in a desperate attempt to stay standing when his knees begin to give out.

His head is throbbing so painfully and his vision is swimming and there’s a voice in his ear saying something but it's so far away, now—

The cold October air hits him like an explosion. Every single cell in his body flinches when he is pulled outside, but it feels like his mind clears up in a single instant. He gasps again and can’t repress the relieved sob that forces its way out of his throat as he’s gently sat down on the pavement.

Gordon tries to breathe in the fresh air but his lungs stutter and he sobs again and he’s crying— fuck, he’s crying—

“Come on, guy— just breathe, in and out.” The stranger tells him with a gentle hand on his back. “It’s okay. It’s fine. Just breathe.

He does what they say but God, this is so humiliating. He hates this, he hates that he’s fucking doing this in public, he hates his fucked up brain and his stupid lungs for— for not even doing what they’re supposed to.

Gordon presses his palms into his eyes and shudders out a breath before swallowing and trying again. He follows the stranger’s lead, trying to match his breaths to their own exaggerated ones.

Eventually— when he has a more solid grip on his breathing— he leans his head against the exposed brick against his back and keeps his eyes closed. The cold wind bites at his damp cheeks and goes right through his clothes.

“Hey, you back with me?” They say jokingly and Gordon grimaces.

“I’m sorry,” He blurts out. “God, I’m really sorry. About everything. I didn’t— I’m— I’m sorry, I should just— go.” He stands up slowly, leaning heavy against the brick, willing his legs to stop shaking.

“H— hey, man—“ They call after him, but he ignores them as he walks away. He can’t— he can’t stand being in their presence anymore. The shame burns his throat and his face— if he fucks up anymore tonight he’s not sure he could take it.

So he walks away. Down the alley and out onto the packed street, each of his steps is harder than the last. Gordon walks for a while just to get his legs to stop feeling like jelly and to sober himself up. He can barely think past the burning shame, so he tries not to.

When he finally flags down a cab, his fingers are numb as he settles in the back seat.

The car ride is silent and suffocating, the sound of pop music makes Gordon’s head throb. The driver doesn’t say anything outside of asking for his address but Gordon can feel their judging eyes pressing into him. He ignores them and watches out the window the whole time. He looks at his reflection and sees the black streaks running down his face and not-so-subtly rubs them away. The driver continues to keep silent.

When he gets home, he stumbles out of the cab after shoving a couple bills into the driver’s hand. They speed off and Gordon’s left standing on the sidewalk in front of his house.

He slowly walks inside, going through his ritual as if he was on autopilot. Keys, wallet, shoes, jacket. He makes his way into the bathroom and goes through his ritual there, too. Contacts, ponytail, shower.

Gordon turns the water on as hot as it’ll go. He doesn’t wait to step in once he’s got his clothes off, letting the icy water slowly warm as he just... goes through the motions. Body, hair, face.

Until he’s left standing under the steaming spray, burning into his skin. Not willing to get out just yet. And so he has no other choice but to think about it.

That— that was a stupid idea.

Gordon drops to the floor of his tub and brings his knees to his chest, ducking his head between them. The shower rains hot water onto him.

What the fuck was he thinking?

Gordon isn’t a young, dumb, childless college kid anymore. He— he can’t be doing shit like that! He can’t be going out just to kiss strangers before he even tells them his goddamn name— he can’t believe he let himself act so recklessly. Tonight could have gone so, so much worse if he hadn’t had that panic attack.

What even was the point of it all? It wasn’t just to have a break and he knows it— he knows his brain, Gordon knows that there was something else—

(Icy blue eyes and a startled expression and so soft, so soft—)

He wants to tear his fucking hair out.

Why? Why why why? Why him? Dear God, why does it have to be Gordon that has to deal with this— this shit. He’s a good person! He gives out his spare change, he compliments strangers, he puts things back on the correct shelf if he changes his mind— he doesn’t deserve to have his head continuously fucked with!

It’s such bullshit for Benrey to have left for good and for Gordon to still have to put up with his stupid mind tricks. He doesn’t want to think about him anymore— he doesn’t want to want him anymore! Every fucking time he closes his eyes Gordon sees his stupid fucking face.

And that’s the problem, isn’t it? It’s Gordon’s fault this keeps happening— his brain refuses to dream of anything else. It’s just nightmare after nightmare of Benrey, Benrey, Benrey. His own goddamn brain isn’t even on his side here.

He sighs and digs his fingers into his arms. Being angry doesn’t fix anything, though. He can be angry and upset all he wants but it won’t make anything better. He has to suck it up and do something about it. There’ll be time for anger later.

“C’mon, Gordon, think.” He urges himself on. What can he do? How does he fix himself? How does he stop the nightmares— how does he stop thinking about Benrey?

Gordon almost laughs when he realizes the easiest solution to this issue.

He just needs to stop sleeping.

No more nightmares, no more fear— in fact, it would give him more time to do the things he needs to! And, yeah, it wouldn’t— couldn’t last forever, but it’ll be okay for a little bit. Just enough time to find a more stable solution. He knows that from experience while studying for his doctorate at MIT.

Plus, it’s not like he necessarily needs to sleep every night like he did in Black Mesa— he has abundant access to the good ol’ combo of sweet, sweet caffeine and taurine.

He leaves the shower and gets dressed in casual daywear instead of something comfy— he can’t risk falling asleep, after all.

He makes a pot of coffee and gets himself a mug to enjoy at the lovely hour of eleven at night.

It has to have some sort of Pavlov effect on him, because the second he sits down at his computer with a cup of coffee and damp hair still resting on his shoulders his brain shifts into productivity mode. Gordon gets right into working on various cover letters, writing emails, sending voicemails and editing his resume as the time passes. He drains his cup and refills it a lot as he works, taking small 5 minute breaks to watch the coffee drip.

It’s not until he goes to make more coffee and finds an empty canister does he stop to look at the time. When he looks to his oven clock he frowns and double checks the clock on his desk. The same time. That— that can’t be right. If it really was that long— it’s only been 3 hours at most.

He quickly goes to his living room window and opens the curtains and is blinded by sunlight.

Gordon blinks. He— did he really just spend the entire night getting shit done? A laugh bubbles up and out of his chest.

“Holy shit,” Gordon grins. “This— this is fucking awesome.”

Practically bouncing on his feet, he grabs his keys and wallet to head to the closest convenience store. He pauses for a second and decides to grab the keys to his shitty station wagon— the one he bought off Craigslist when Joshua had been born.

Gordon greets everyone he sees with a wave and a smile when he goes into the small gas station store. He makes a b-line straight to the coffee and grabs a big container. Then, he catches sight of the energy drink section.

As he deliberates on which flavors to get, his phone rings. He jumps a little, startled by the sudden noise, but quickly fishes the phone from his pockets and answers without looking at the Caller ID

“Gordon Freeman.”

“Good morning, Mr. Freeman!” Tommy’s voice comes through clearly, and Gordon smiles at it.

“Hey, Tommy! What’s up, man?”

“Oh I’m just— just on my way over to Dr. Coomer’s and Dr. Bubby’s house!” He tells him. “I’m so excited for today! It’s gonna— It’s gonna be amazing!”

“Oh yeah?” Gordon hums as he grabs a couple blue-colored Mountain Dew Amped Game Fuel cans. “Why’s that?”

Tommy pauses on the other side of the line and Gordon frowns. “Tommy? You okay?”

The man laughs. “Oh! You— that’s a good one, Mr. Freeman! You— I almost— I thought you’d forgotten about taking us all to the zoo today!”

Gordon chokes on his own spit and proceeds to hack out a lung. “Nope!” He wheezes into his phone. “Nuh— hrg— no way! I’d— I’d never forget that!”

Gordon tucks the phone in between his shoulder and face begins to frantically grab snacks off the nearest shelf.

“Yeah! I would— it’s— I would hate for you to forget and miss out on all the fun we— that we’re gonna have!”

“Yeah,” Gordon squeaks. He grabs a cooler and starts throwing sodas into it. “We— we wouldn’t, uh, wouldn’t want that! Nope!”

“...Are you feeling alright, Mr. Freeman?” Tommy asks. “You sound strained!”

“I’m fine,” He hisses through his teeth as he drags the cooler to the front and throws his card on the counter before running back to grab a bag of ice. “I’m— I’m just— exercising! Gotta— gotta keep up my daily routine!”

“Wow, I didn’t know you have an exercise routine!”

“Yep!” He huffs out, dropping the bag on the counter and leaning against it as the clerk scans all the soda and snacks. “Gotta stay fit! You know how it is— anyways, what um— sorry, what time did I say I was picking you guys up?”

“In fifteen minutes!” Tommy tells him, and Gordon’s smile becomes manic as the clerk continues to slowly scan each soda. “Oh— Hi, Dr. Coomer! Hi, Dr. Bubby!”

Gordon hears Bubby and Coomer greet Tommy as he supposedly arrives at their home. “Listen, I’ll see you in a few minutes, okay Tommy?” He says as he struggles with inputting his pin number.

“Ok, Mr. Freeman!” Tommy says. “See you soon!”

Gordon hangs up and shoves his phone into his pocket. He thanks the clerk and lugs everything out to his car, thanking the universe for granting him this one pass of him taking the car to the store instead of his motorcycle. He gets the cooler situated in the back— now full of ice, soda, and snacks for the team— and hightails it towards Bubby and Coomer’s home.

It takes only ten minutes to arrive when it normally would take twenty.

Gordon does not know how this happened. He will not talk about how this happened.

He pulls up to the pair’s home and sighs heavily, sinking low into his seat as he watches Tommy, Bubby, and Coomer all meander up to the car.

“Hello, Gordon!” Dr. Coomer greets him, taking the passenger seat.

“Hey, Dr. Coomer,” Gordon greets him, exhaustion creeping into his voice.

“Hi, Mr. Freeman!” Tommy smiles as he climbs into the back.

“You got here early, Gordon.” Bubby says.

“Yep,” He replies, popping the ‘p’. “I brought some snacks, by the way, so that we don’t have to buy mediocre and overpriced bullshit—“

“Is there soda?” Dr. Coomer lights up, looking to Gordon as Tommy and Bubby begin to root around in the back for the cooler.

“Yeah, I got—“ He hears the dual crack of soda cans and sees Dr. Coomer’s head snap to look at Bubby and Tommy so fast that Gordon wonders if he broke his fucking neck for a second.

“My dear Bubby!” Coomer gasps, scandalized. “Are you drinking a Soda without offering me one?”

“N— No! I was just— opening one for you!” Bubby insists and shoves the open Pepsi at Coomer. “Here!”

Coomer doesn’t hesitate before guzzling the entire thing and crushing the can in his hand like a grape. “Oh, Professor, you’re always so thoughtful!”

Gordon doesn’t miss the quiet, dejected grumble of “It’s doctor,” from the backseat, followed by a third can being opened in penitence.

Gordon can already feel that they might not all make it out alive from this trip. He sighs and pulls onto the street.

Half way into the car ride— while Bubby is trying to convince Gordon why he should have the aux cord— Tommy makes a curious noise and holds up an energy drink.

“Mr. Freeman, is this yours?” Tommy asks, meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror.

“Oh— yeah, can you hand it to me?” He reaches back with his right hand and the can is deposited into it. “Thanks.” He purposely ignores the worried looks from Tommy and Coomer and sets it in the console cup holder.

At the next light, Gordon cracks it open and chugs half of it. He’s never preferred energy drinks but sometimes you need the most caffeine you can get— and this one has double the caffeine content over a cup of coffee.

“Gordon?” Coomer asks quietly from the passenger seat as he wipes his mouth with the back of his left hand.

“What’s up?” He replies, trying to keep his eyes both on the road and on Coomer.

“How did you sleep last night?”

Gordon hunches his shoulders slightly. “Fine. I slept fine.”

“Really?” Tommy presses, skepticism obvious in his tone.

“Yes, really.” Gordon rolls his eyes. “Look, guys, I know I mentioned the nightmares a few weeks ago but I’m fine. Seriously. You don’t need to check on me over every single thing.”

“I— We know, Gordon—“

“I know you’re just worried, I get it, but please no more pushing this? If I wasn’t okay, I’d— I...” He trails off. He can’t find it in himself to keep the lie going. He sighs again. “Just— stop nagging me. I know I’m the youngest but don’t— don’t treat me like I can’t take care of myself.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Fr— Gordon.” Tommy says first, wringing his hands. “I— I shouldn’t have tried to push it.”

“You’re as right as ever, Gordon.” Dr. Coomer says. “I’m very sorry.”

“I didn’t say shit, I don’t have to apologize.” Bubby leans back with a bag of sour patch kids and a soda. “You’re a grown man, Gordon, you can fill your body with as much garbage as you want.” He punctuates this with a sip from a regular Mountain Dew.

Gordon smiles in relief. “Thanks guys.” He tells them genuinely, his shoulders relaxing.

The rest of the ride is pleasant. Bubby continues to vie for the aux cord but Tommy’s reign continues with begrudging acceptance when he plays some kind of peppy, anime-sounding song that makes all three of them cheer.

Gordon grins at their antics. His chest buzzes with something light and happy the whole time and he doesn’t notice he’s bobbing to the beat until Bubby shoots him a smirk when he glances into the mirror, but he doesn’t seem to want to stop.

They arrive at the zoo and get a good parking spot. It’s way early and a weekday to boot, so it’s not packed at all.

Tommy makes sure that everyone has sunscreen applied and they all pass the bottle around until they’re all up to code in his eyes. Coomer recites the Wikipedia article on sunscreen as they do and then offers to carry the cooler until Gordon shows off it’s wheels and extending handle.

Gordon pulls out a brochure from the center console of the car and begins to go through his plan for the day but is cut off by Bubby saying “Can we just go? I want to see the fucked up birds they have!”

“Now, Dr. Bubby,” Coomer approaches the man and begins to fiddle with his clothes. He dusts off Bubby’s shoulders and adjusts his leather jacket’s collar. “I know you’re excited for your very first zoo trip, but we have to make sure we have enough time to see every exhibit! I’m sure Gordon has thought it all through very thoroughly.”

Bubby blinks and looks down and away from Dr. Coomer, his shoulders going up to almost his ears. “I know,” He says, almost submissively, his face pink, before his expression morphs into a sneer— directed towards Gordon. “I just think my own plan would be better, but if Gordon wants to play the leader again that’s fine. Just don’t fuck it all up.”

Gordon lets the barbed comments slide as he tries to process what the fuck he just witnessed. Was— did Bubby— Gordon’s not even sure he saw that interaction correctly or if the Mountain Dew Amped Game Fuel is fucking up his head even further.

He takes one glance at the half-empty can, chugs the rest of it, and decides to completely ignore all of that for now.

“Alright, team,” Gordon calls out, replacing his normal glasses for his sunglasses. “Let’s rock ‘n roll.”

#hlvrai #half life vr but the ai is self aware #frenrey #gordon freeman #benrey #my writing #fics

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testedtommyau · 4 years ago

Text

Tested Tommy Chapter 5: Act 1, scene 2 (part 1)

Warnings: Flashbacks, PTSD, panics, child ab/se in memories

Eyes lit up as the noise of keys in a lock was nearby, it was time for food. Tiny paw-like feet pattered to the bars of the cell, eager eyes waiting for the kind giant to give him something to consume. The large figure walked inside and placed the bowls on the ground, the little creature crawled forward, sniffing at the bowls.

“Gotta eat up, Tommy.”

Tommy.

They always referred to him as that, is it a sound to notify they were communicating with him? It didn’t matter at the time. He took the food from the bowl and sat down, eating with his hands. The cell door closed with the figure leaving, they never stayed with him for the food, it was rather lonely. He would like for someone to stay with him. Maybe one day.

The food as always was… bad. He didn’t want to be ungrateful, but it was BAD. The taste was like licking the floor. But he had to eat, or he got extreme pains in his tummy. The water was fine though, nice and cold and washed away the dreadful taste. ‘Tommy’ went back to the corner of the cell, tail curling up towards him to use as a pillow. He wanted someone there with him, it was very cold and lonely. Tommy closed his eyes and drifted back to what felt like eternal waiting.

“Here it is.”

Oh! More giants, does this mean more food? Or maybe one will stay. Tommy got up on his little feet and hurried over, spots lighting up to see the figures entering his cell. The tall figures were all in white, tilting his head he walked closer and curiously sniffed.

BLEH!

Tommy recoiled from the strong smell of whatever was on their outer layer of covering, it felt like something badly burned the inside of his nose.

“It has been with us for six years now.”

“Do you think it's strong enough to start?”

“Only one way to find out.”

One of the figures reached down and took Tommy’s hand, his big glowing eyes stared up at the giant and followed when it stood up and started walking. It was taking him out of the cell! Tommy’s tail swayed as he happily followed the giants that were kind enough to let him out, are they going to take him to a new home?

The area was huge, everything was so big and bright now. There were more giants exiting and going into movable holes in the walls. The one holding his hand took him further down the halls, down to a darker area with a few scattered lights. Tommy gazed up at the giants and was taken inside a room, he looked up at the room sign. 874.

Pointing up to the sign he made a little tune. The scientists stared in awe at the bubbles floating out his mouth, a couple of them popping against the sign.

“That’s number 874.” One of them answered. Tommy did not understand though, maybe later he’ll remember how that sounded and he’ll know in the future.

The room was scary, the giants there were more covered up then the ones that took him here. Their faces covered and like a blank screen. Tommy whimpered and hid behind one of the giant’s legs, hoping it’ll protect him. Instead they picked him up and walked closer to the figures. The little creature squirmed and tried to get away, only to be put onto a table and held there. He sang out more bubbles, the colours fading from greys to black. He wanted to go back, this place was scary, he didn’t want to be here.

“Okay, okay, listen we need to have a pow-wow.”

Tommy shook from his sleep as Gordon announced himself to be in need of conversation with everyone. Bubby and Coomer were already sitting up and alert, only with Bubby’s rather grumpy expression directed towards Gordon. He obviously did not want to be woken up just yet. Under Tommy’s arm was Benrey, still snoozing peacefully. Though he didn’t want to wake up the adorable sight he reluctantly shook Benrey awake.

“Wha…?”

“T-Time to w-wake up.”

Benrey groaned and moved up with a huff, helmet tilting over their face before Tommy moved it so it sat correctly on their head. They shared a smile before Gordon went on again about needing some ‘pow-wow’ with the group.

“Everybody sit around, gather around…”

“Mr F-Freeman d-d-don’t herd me like a… like a sheep in a f-f-farm.” Tommy snapped as he plonked himself down into the circle they had created. Gordon gulped quietly and nodded.

“Right, right.”

“I’d like to have a good ol’ yeehaw with you.”

They all looked over at Bubby for a moment.

“What the fuck does that even mean-Where’s the guard?” Gordon asked, Tommy worriedly looked at the spot beside him where Benrey once was which was now empty. The clanging on the other side however alerted them to Benrey’s whereabouts as they jumped up and sat on a barrel, looking rather proud of themselves.

“Do you have to sit on something…?”

Gordon’s voice trailed off as he self-admitted there was no point to questioning the ‘guard’s’ actions. He turned his attention back to the other three.

“We got to get you some more bullets. Oh, Tommy have you- have you ever fought or like, killed anything?”

Tommy stared at him silently for a moment. Gordon couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable at his gaze. The stillness let him take in some extra depth of Tommy’s features, the scars on his face, a near invisible red line around his neck, the way his brows got closer together as he stared.

“Yes.” Was all he replied.

Tommy had to admit it was quite amusing to see the nervous shock in Gordon’s eyes.

“Um, you good at it…?”

Strange question, Tommy shrugged before he noticed a pigeon walking around on the floor.

“I c-c-can show y-you on that pigeon.”

Gordon’s nervous expression was replaced with one of confusion as he looked to see the pigeon that was indeed there.

“How did a pigeon get in here?” He asked Dr. Coomer and Bubby, but neither could provide an answer.

“So, y-you want me to kill i-it?” Tommy offered again. Gordon shook his head but before he could tell Tommy no he had already punched it so hard it broke its neck and it dropped dead on the ground. Gordon stared silently for a moment then back at Tommy.

“Okay uh, what about a gun? Should I give you a gun? Be easier then punching if we come across more of those… things.”

Tommy thought for a moment, it was a more tactical weapon for distanced kills without risking someone noticing his use of powers. As he was about to answer, Benrey started to sing sweet voice again, the balls of teal surrounding the pigeon in front of them.

“Uh, what are you doing?”

“They’re hungry.” Tommy answered for them as Benrey kept singing. “T-teal mean, mean n-needs meal.”

“Okay uh, anyway Tommy I dunno if you can use a gun or not. You seem to not be processing what I say to you.”

Tommy felt heat boil up inside him again, he can understand perfectly! It’s this- this mere human ball of arrogant flesh that can’t comprehend that he is perfectly capable of such things. A loud siren-like tune interrupted Tommy’s mini internal rage as Benrey promptly shot the pigeon, blood splattering all over the ground.

“Was that a threat to us? In any way?”

Benrey ignored Gordon’s question and moved over to join the circle.

“Barney?”

What? That’s not their name.

“Wha?”

“T-that’s not their name.”

Tommy’s glare could be felt on Gordon’s neck, he was about to correct himself but another pigeon became victim to Benrey’s gunfire as blood splattered onto both of them.

“The fuck man!?”

Gordon stood up and brushed the blood off vest he could and let out an annoyed sigh. Turning on his heel he stormed off alone down the hall. Benrey visibly tucked their head into their collar nervously.

“Did I- did I fuck up bro?”

They looked over at Tommy who scooted closer and took Benrey’s hand into his, reassuring them that they didn’t do anything wrong.

“Guess we got to go follow the bitching babyman before he does something stupid.” Bubby grumbled, he got up and followed the direction Gordon went, Benrey, Tommy and Dr Coomer got up and joined to follow.

Benrey’s hand wrapped around Tommy’s, giving it a comforting squeeze. Their touch helped ground him as they walked. This place made him nervous, the walls of the facility too high and narrow, like a tunnel.

“All good bro?” Benrey asked, their eyes stared up at Tommy, a hint of worry in them. But as always their adoration shone through just from looking at Tommy. It made his heart swell to see how much the smaller alien cared for him.

“Yes, e-e-everything is o-okay.” He promised, he felt the other press against him and purr softly. Soft warmth radiating off them both as their arms looped together.

“Uh, nothin’ gonna hurt us, yeah?”

Benrey’s eyes were hopeful, little sparkles in the bright yellow of their undamaged eye filled with aspiration to start a new life. Tommy would ensure they get it; they deserve it more than anything. There was a soft touch of Benrey’s clawed hand against his cheek, their gentle thumb tracing along the line of freckles on his face. Eyes fluttered close as the two stood together, the world became still in each other’s company. Tommy’s hand met Benrey’s as he held it against his face, his breathing shook as the tenderness was becoming overwhelming from how badly he needed it. Benrey always knew how to help him.

Benrey was everything to him.

“Where the fuck are you even going?”

Tommy and Benrey looked over to where Bubby was nagging Gordon about which direction they should go. It was a fucking tunnel, no other places to go. Benrey piped up and told the group to go ‘this way’ which was just forward, but someone had to give some sense of direction, right?

They found the end of the tunnel led to a ledge connected to the next route; Benrey peaked at the metal bridge which led to yet another high drop below.

“Don’t look good bro, got uh, lil connecters ain’t lookin’ so strong. Probably weak as shit.” They muttered, moving back to press against Tommy.

It also didn’t help that a portal opened, and an alien popped up out of nowhere and fell onto the ledge, breaking it as it tumbled to its death and destroying their initial path. Well, at least Benrey was right on that it wasn’t very stable. Tommy quickly pulled Benrey out of the line of fire of whatever the fuck the alien spewed out while Gordon frantically checked if everyone was okay.

“Yep just… um.” Benrey wasn’t too sure what to do now, the ledge was gone, and the humans can’t just float to the other side. Maybe there was something below?

“This way. Let’s go.”

Gordon paused and looked at Tommy, who just gave him a small shrug and followed Benrey.

Benrey and Bubby took a peak down the ledge. Minus the walkway below, the pit looked bottomless. Definite instant death if one was to fall in.

“Oh no, no, no, no.”

Bubby backed away in fright from the mere sight of the drop, Benrey instead staring down with a look of awe.

Gordon’s eyes widened when he saw the two near the ledge and panicked.

“No! No! Benrey that’s so far down, please get back!” The fear in Gordon’s voice was noticeable, he was properly scared for Benrey being hurt as Bubby had already started to step away. Tommy knew a fall like that wouldn’t do much damage as they could float, but the worry in Gordon’s voice was a bit endearing. He had already risked himself to remove the headcrab and now Gordon was worrying over another stranger’s safety. Humans were strange.

“Right here to the test chamber!” With that, Benrey hops off and falls.

Gordon ran to the ledge to look down with a gasp, Tommy watched him and listened to his panicked breathing as if he expected a dead body to be splattered on the ground below. Knowing Benrey would be fine, Tommy climbed up the pipes and walked along them, he looked down to see Benrey had got up and left in the direction of the next door.

“Are you okay!?” Gordon called out.

“Right this way.”

And Benrey was off on their way again. Gordon only stared in stunned silence. At least they were okay. But now how the fuck were they going to re-group?

“Gordon are you coming or not?”

Startled, Gordon looked up to the ledge where Bubby was.

“How the fuck did you make that jump?”

Tommy continued walking across the pipes to get across, he felt Gordon’s eyes rest onto him as he kept going.

“Oh, Tommy’s got the right idea!”

Tommy pretended to not hear that, but he did feel a little fuzzy at the sort of compliment. Now to get back to Benrey, wherever the fuck they have ran off to.

“Hello Gordon!”

“Hello… Dr Coomer…! Oh my god…”

While listening to Gordon’s voice tiring out of re-greeting Dr Coomer, Tommy kept his eye on Benrey now that they’ve found them. His hand was wrapped around Benrey’s as he didn’t want them running off again. The room was strange to say the least, most peculiar was the boxes suspended in the air, what was the purpose of that? Tommy and Benrey looked at the ledge below them and it was an even BIGGER drop.

“D-Do we have to do this?” They could both hear the fear in Gordon’s voice.

Benrey didn’t bother answering and slipped from Tommy’s grip to jump onto one of the hanging boxes. Not wanting to leave Benrey to disappear again, Tommy quickly jumped onto a box. He tried not to look down, it was a pretty big drop.

A loud scream was heard behind him and Tommy spun around too fast, thinking Gordon was falling to his death. No, the human had landed on a ledge. But his focus was broken and the swinging of the boxes threw him off balance.

“Tommy!” Benrey called out as Tommy slipped and failed to grab the ledge.

“TOMMY!” Gordon almost foolishly ran off the ledge in an attempt to grab him, Tommy let out a scream as he fell into the darkness, out of sight.

Hurt.

Everything hurt.

Tommy was curled up in the corner, hugging his tail and shaking from the unbearable new feeling coursing through his body. He looked down at the fabric around his arm, it was tinted red with liquid that was spilled from his arm. Why did they do that? It hurt so much.

The doors open at the usual feeding time, he should go show the nice giant what happened. Maybe it would try and fix the pain. Tommy got up and hurried towards the giant, little squeaks coming from his mouth as he tried to call them over, showing the bandage on his arm.

The attempts were in vain however. The giant ignored Tommy and simply shoved the bowls into his cell, soon exiting and Tommy was once again alone. And in pain. With a whimper tears started to trickle down Tommy’s cheeks, the sting of rejection stronger than before. What was wrong with him? What did he do to make the giants hurt him?

He couldn’t bring himself to eat, he wasn’t hungry at the moment. Pushing his food away, Tommy went back to his corner, curling up and closed his eyes. Hoping this nightmare will end soon.

Tommy snapped his eyes open and stopped just before slamming into the ground, his body glowed as he levitated himself to his feet. Luckily, he was too far down to be seen by anyone, though they probably thought he was dead now. Minus Benrey of course. But now that he was alone without humans watching him. He could phase through the wall and get back up to the ledges, hopefully without being seen.

The sound of the group’s voices helped guide him back. He managed to phase out of the wall behind a crate and climb over it with his thin frame.

“Tommy!” Benrey rushed over and hugged him tightly. Tommy quickly returned the hug, holding Benrey close to his body. His eyes trailed over to Gordon as he caught his breath, the adrenaline seeming to subside from his system and a tired smile grew on his face when he saw Tommy was okay.

“Tommy? How did you make it back up?”

Shit, he had to come up with a reason that wasn’t ‘I went into the wall and came up through the wall.’

“It’s, like a big slide! I just uh… I-I l-looped around and c-came back up.”

That was totally believable, right?

“Um… sure, sure.”

That didn’t sound like he was convinced, but it’ll have to do.

Benrey’s ears twitched under the helmet, the elevator noises were rather annoying. They fiddled nervously with their vest as the others waited. Bubby looked over to Benrey and gave them a pat on the back, they looked over and gave him a smile but it soon faltered back to a frown.

Bubby turned over to Tommy and grabbed his sleeve, Tommy flinched back with a glare but noticed Benrey gripping at their sleeve. Their eyes wide and darting around the elevator. Dr Coomer and Bubby walked around to Gordon, his back turned to Benrey and Tommy luckily as Tommy held them close, feeling their body shivering.

“H-Hey, what’s w-w-wrong.” Tommy whispered into Benrey’s ear, the smaller alien buried their face into his chest, skin turning a deeper shade of blue as they sniffled.

“What’s going on?” Gordon asked, before he could turn around Bubby pulled out his gun, pointing it at Gordon. Tommy’s eyes darted to the sight, watching Bubby try to distract Gordon while he attempted to quickly soothe Benrey. Gordon may know Benrey isn’t human, but he’s seen the cruelty that comes out of humans when they face Benrey’s body morphs, the last thing they need is someone making them feel worse for being upset. Tommy could feel their skin stretch as more eyes popped up, he looed down and saw two sets of faces warp out as they shook in his hold.

“Shh shh, y-y-you’re okay, i-it’s okay…”

“Can you, not point your gun at me?” Gordon asked, it was at least keeping him occupied.

Benrey’s claws grew as they clung to Tommy, his own hands soothingly stroked Benrey’s back.

“W-w-we’ll be out soon… I p-promise…”

“Don’t… don’t like the… the, the moving boxes… Never w-went to good places.” Benrey muttered under their breath, Tommy’s hold around Benrey tightened, his eyes flashed for a second of gold.

“N-No, we’re not, no going there…” He reassured, Benrey started to calm down.

“Could you not point that at me!?” Gordon repeated, Bubby kept a stern blank face at the man.

“I’m not pointing it at you, I’m just, indicating that I have a gun.”

Bubby looked over to Benrey and Tommy, the morphing seemed to be nearing its end.

“and you should continue looking at me.”

“This seems like a weird threat…”

Tommy focused back onto Benrey, he moved the helmet up and ran his fingers through Benrey’s hair. It was a quick soothing spot for them, closing their eyes they started to purr. Their skin returned to a pale blue and the warping stopped. Tears were still running down their face but that was okay, Tommy softly kissed them away.

“Want off…”

“I-I know, we’ll, we’ll be off here s-s-soon. Sooner then uh, then a slice of cheese m-melting in a fire.”

Benrey chuckled at Tommy’s words, they sniffed and wiped their tears as the elevator dinged when they reached the wanted floor. At least that was finally over.

“Another soda spiller!”

“What the fuck did you just call it?” Gordon asked, Benrey looked at him and repeated ‘soda spiller’. Before he could question that any further, he could see a ‘rope’ hanging from a gap in the ceiling. He peaked above and shot the barnacle, its guts spilling onto the floor.

“Alright time for more soda!”

Gordon smashed the vending machine and the drinks spilled out of it, the gang hurrying past him to engulf in the drinks, making ungodly slurping sounds once again. Benrey noticed a little bug crawling on the machine and picked it up, they inspected it for a minute then tossed it into their mouth with a loud crunch.

“Ew no don’t eat the spiders!” Gordon yelled, Benrey ignored him and kept crunching it much to Gordon’s disgust. Tommy picked up a few extra cans and walked over to Benrey, the two sat down on a table and drank at their soda. The cafeteria was… interesting, one of the few rooms that he doesn’t remember entirely despising. It had a few nice smells to go with it but now it was mixed with destruction and alien guts, though it wasn’t like the original was something to praise at. Benrey pulled out a packet of crisps that they snagged from the broken machine, munching on it and leaning against Tommy’s arm. He felt Benrey’s hand wrap around his own, it felt nice as always. Fingers intertwined as Tommy rested his head on top of Benrey’s helmet, closing his eyes.

“Tommy?”

Tommy looked over to the cell bars, recognising that this sound is directed towards him. Though he does not want to go towards them. Last time he did it ended in pain; he didn’t want to feel that again.

“C’mon boy, over here.”

The giant knelt down and held its hand out, offering its touch. Tommy eyed the hand suspiciously, what if it takes him to another place of pain? But in the giant’s hand was something, new? Tommy curiously walked over and sniffed at the object; it was wonderful. It smelt like something he could give a try. Nothing like the garbage he was eating before. He snatched up the object and bit it, it crumbled in his mouth and provided a jolt of pleasant taste in his mouth.

“You like the cookie, Tommy?”

Cookie. Is that what this thing was? Tommy looked up at the giant, crumbs on his mouth.

“Cookie?” the giant repeated. Tommy stared up at it and kept biting at the… ‘cookie’.

The giant held out its hand again and now Tommy took its hand, being led out of the room and given another cookie.

Tommy cried in the corner; he was fooled again. The pain surged through his leg as he shivered. What did he do so wrong to make them so angry to hurt him?

Tommy shivered as fresh tears fell from his cheeks.

Please make it stop.

Please make them stop.

Please take the pain away.

Please.

“Please stop running into those!!”

Tommy jolted from his thoughts; Bubby fell to the ground coughing horribly as Gordon shot at a barnacle which had attempted to eat him. He watched Gordon rush to Bubby’s side and attempt to clean off the gunk off the grumpy old man’s clothes. Tommy chuckled quietly as he watched Gordon chase after Bubby.

“Look Gordon! A rope!”

Benrey tapped Tommy’s arm and pointed up as Dr Coomer was swooped up by a ‘rope’.

“HELP ME GORDON!”

“STOP RUNNING INTO-THEY’RE NOT ROPES!!” Gordon cried out, his gun made quick work of the alien and Dr Coomer dropped down as if nothing had happened.

“Look, Gordon, a rope!” he repeated.

“You guys are fucking scientists!! Use your reasoning!?”

Tommy could hear the frustration growing in his tone. His heart sped up as he watched the human’s face grow red with anger, like he’s close to snapping. Tommy squeezed Benrey’s hand, he could handle it easy. But seeing a scientist get mad never ended well.

Benrey noticed Tommy’s discomfort and stood up, gently tugging him away while Gordon continued his snapping match.

Benrey and Tommy found a hallway to themselves, though it probably wouldn’t be long before the others caught up again but, in the moment, they could be alone quietly. Another flock of birds cooed in their presence, flapping their wings and moving out of their way.

“A-a-are you okay? Y-you were rather upset earlier.” Tommy asked, his hand still in Benrey’s.

“Yeah bro I’m uh, all good now, just dumb head sights ya know?”

Tommy could see Benrey was still bothered by it, he wished he could make it all better. That now they were finally out the pain will instantly leave. But it seemed that was not how the world worked unfortunately. The pair were still suffering, Benrey was still dealing with random episodes that freak them out. It wasn’t fair.

Tommy looked at Benrey’s eyes, at least one thing he knew would always be okay is how Benrey made him feel, he pulled them closer and gave Benrey a soft kiss on the lips. Benrey smiled against him and stared into his eyes when they pulled away. Tommy took Benrey’s face into his hands, thumbs stroking across their cheeks. He needed to ensure they were there with him, that they knew he was there for them. Benrey closed their eyes as Tommy traced a line over one of Benrey’s scars on their lips, he placed a gentle kiss upon it.

“God there’s so many birds!”

Tommy and Benrey jumped away from each other in surprise as Gordon climbed down to the room they were in; the moment was nice while it lasted.

“Did we have like uh, like a bank of birds in black mesa?” Gordon asked, looking towards Tommy and Benrey. Bubby muttered ‘what the hell?’ while the other two shrugged.

“Are these like, test animals?”

It was a perfectly fine question to ask, he’s probably right as well. But Tommy felt his heart stop for a moment at the mention of tests despite them not being directed towards him.

“W-w-where you c-c-conducting experiments? Ma-maybe they got loose.”

Tommy looked down at the birds, Bubby and Benrey making quick work of shooting them dead.

“What? No, I didn’t know about any of this.” Gordon replied, he stood by Tommy watching the bloodbath in front of him.

“Were you in the bird division doing any bird tests?”

“NO!”

The NERVE of that Freeman! Even considering that he would ever do such a thing, death was one thing. But the life of experiments!?

Gordon could see the anger in Tommy’s eyes and backed away.

“Then what are they doing here?”

“I don’t know.”

The gunshots finally got to Gordon as he snapped. “Why are you killing them!? They’re just birds!”

Benrey stopped firing for a moment and looked over to Gordon, Dr Coomer inspected the carnage and spoke up.

“We could cook and eat these for food, Gordon!”

“Right so we’re going to eat them? That’s the only acceptable excuse for this!”

“They shouldn’t be here.” Benrey interrupted and went back to their shooting.

“Didn’ let them in.”

Tommy watched the last bird fall to the ground in blood, Gordon’s face still stunned in horror.

“Right this way.” Benrey said as they moved down the hallway.

Gordon let out a yell of terror, Tommy looked down where Gordon fell, and the turret was firing at him. That was a rather valid reason to be screaming. Benrey grabbed Tommy’s hand and jumped down behind a crate, Gordon already seeking shelter at the next point while it kept firing.

“Tommy it can shoot through the boxes!” Gordon warned. A headcrab pounced at him but he quickly shot it before it landed.

“Wha?” The turret shot through and hit Benrey’s arm, they let out a hiss of pain.

“B-Benrey!”

Tommy picked Benrey up and bolted, Gordon screaming at him to get to cover fast as Tommy slid down to where Gordon was, the torrent finally halting its fires.

“Is he okay!?” Gordon asked, Tommy leaned back against the wall and sat down, holding Benrey’s bleeding arm.

“Is all good bro, will uh, be healed up in-ow fuck, no time!” Benrey reassured, Tommy letting out a sigh of relief. Dr Coomer and Bubby in the meantime managed to disable the turret, leaving it safe when Benrey got up and looked around the corner.

“Has it stopped?” Gordon asked, Tommy walked out to see Dr Coomer and Bubby there unharmed.

“I-It can’t hurt you, if you’re s-s-smart.” Tommy said, smiling.

“T-that’s why we’re a-all scientists.”

Gordon let out a little laugh and walked over to Tommy with a pity smile on his face. Excuse him?

“Buddy, buddy, that’s not how it works.” Gordon got uncomfortably close to Tommy and placed his hand on his cheek. Tommy’s eyes widened as he whacked Gordon away.

“D-Don’t touch m-me!!” He yelled, turning a heel and storming off. Tommy walked a fair way ahead of the group, why did he touch his face!? Did he think he was going to let Gordon that close to possibly harm him? He’s not stupid.

But also…

Tommy reached up and touched the cheek Gordon had his hand on. It… was closer to how Benrey touched them then how other scientists touched him. While it was uncalled for, he was slow and the touch was placed almost carefully. He felt his face heat up and he shook. This wasn’t the time.

His hand rested on his belt and felt the outline of his gun, he pulled it up and cocked it. It felt weird at first, pointing it to how he saw the guards do so with one hand. Finger on the trigger.

Footsteps approached as the rest of the team caught up with him, Gordon’s eyes widening as he noticed the gun in Tommy’s hold.

“Right uh, you ready to test that thing?” He asked. And Tommy pulled the trigger.

“Dude!?”

Gordon stepped away and Tommy’s own eyes were now wide, he didn’t mean to fire it!

“Um, y-yeah.”

Though it did feel rather fun. He pointed it up, away from Gordon and fired again.

“No, no, no! You don’t just shoot it when there’s people around.”

He gestured to Dr Coomer and Bubby who were below the ceiling which Tommy shot at.

“That w-was test.” Tommy replied, the two locking eyes now.

“You don’t need to test a gun, okay?”

“Y-y-you d-don’t need t-to tell me w-what to do!”

Gordon’s frustration grew as he stepped forward, only for another gunshot to be heard and a dent appear in the suit. The two looking towards Bubby who was aiming the gun at Gordon.

“Seriously!?”

“… Sorry my bad.”

“H-How’s the arm?” Tommy asked Benrey, they looked down at the hole in their shirt but the wound itself was near gone, mostly a scar.

“Pretty good bro.”

Tommy smiled and kissed Benrey on the head.

“Oh my god another guard, thank fuck.”

Benrey looked up to see Gordon talking to a guard, dread sank down their stomach but luckily Dr Coomer gave it a good punch in the leg.

Oh, oh shit now he’s shooting at Gordon!

Benrey whipped up their gun and shot the guard in the face, he fell to the ground. Headshot!

“Why would you do that?!” Gordon snapped.

What? Benrey raised a confused eyebrow, they, they saved him? Why was he so upset?

“Assume if we threaten anyone! They’ll assume we are a threat!” He continued yelling. Tommy moved in front of Benrey with a death glare to Gordon, silencing him without a word. He looked at Benrey who was behind Tommy, the look in their eyes hurt and confused with a few blue orbs floating from their mouth.

“I… Just, god please stop killing people…?”

Tommy shook his head. “No.”

Gordon gulped quietly as all four of them stood before him, almost against him. Tommy could see confusion and fear in Gordon’s eyes.

“Don’t hurt him.” Benrey piped up, to Gordon’s surprise. Tommy’s eyes softened as he looked at Benrey. Then back at Gordon.

“L-Lets go.”

Sounds of gurgled grunting caught Tommy’s attention, breaking away from the group he spotted a few more aliens. Nothing he hasn’t fought before. He looked at his gun.

But now…

Tommy took out the gun and lined up his finger with the trigger, the alien spotted him and charged forward only to be repeatedly shot with bullets, Tommy firing at increased speed, covering the alien in bloody holes.

“Tommy going ham!” Gordon cheered, Tommy didn’t stop shooting and felt his body fuel with adrenaline at Gordon’s encouragement. The alien attempted to run but Tommy watched it drop to the ground as its body couldn’t handle anymore bullets.

“Go off Tommy!”

Tommy pointed his fun up and fired at the barnacle, finger still pressing the trigger fast.

“Holy shit you got a trigger finger.”

He went into the room the alien tried to escape into, Bubby following behind. Not much seemed to be in there.

“Tommy you said you’ve never held a gun before!”

Tommy looked over to Gordon, uniform splattered with blood.

“Th-This is all instinct, Me Freeman!” He replied.

“Instinct?”

Tommy nodded.

“I-I, I’ve d-done stuff l-like this a lot b-b-before. Just not with a g-gun.” He explained.

“Oh, uh, okay um… You’re good at it.”

“… Th-Thanks.”

The two stood there in silence for a moment, Tommy’s eyes refusing to meet Gordon’s.

First to break the tension was Tommy walking out the room, Gordon watched and saw the man had once again gone to Benrey. It was probably best to keep moving anyway.

The days went by, too many to count despite the tallies littering Tommy’s cell room.

The cell door opened but Tommy didn’t come to the giants, they were not happy when he refused to come over the other times, the purple and dirty yellow marks on his skin aren’t from the pain rooms. They were from the giants when he did something that made them angry, not coming over made them angry. But why would he come near? They keep taking him to bad places.

“It’s time to go.”

He did not go towards the voice. He didn’t grant a glance over to them, simply stared into the corner of the room.

“Do you want another cookie?”

No. No he does not want to go near that ‘cookie’. Every time he was given a cookie it ended in pain. Every time he went near the giant’s and left the cell only ended in pain. Tommy hugged himself tighter, covering his face as he heard the footsteps get closer. Readying himself for the pain that is soon to come.

“Tommy? Come here, now.” The giant demanded. Still meeting refusal, he could hear the frustration grow.

“I will not tell you again.”

Then don’t.

Get it over with.

“Yo! It’s the soda!” Benrey called out, Tommy shook his head a little and looked onward at the red light of another machine, rushing over with them to the soda giver.

“Oh, hell yeah, you guys want some more soda!?”

Gordon aimed his gun and shot the machines, the soda spilling out once again as the team flocked around with greedy mouths. Gordon chuckled at them all and took care of the aliens around the corner.

Tommy came up behind Gordon.

“M-Mr Freeman?”

Gordon jumped a little and looked towards Tommy. He put a can of soda into Gordon’s hand.

“B-Benrey said y-y-you need to h-have some soda.”

He looked at the can, a Sprite tm can. He was pretty thirsty… Gordon popped open the can and took a refreshing sip, he noticed Tommy still standing there.

“Oh uh, thank you, and Benrey. Um.”

Tommy stayed silent.

“Listen I uh…” He looked to the others who were busy slurping the soda still. “I’m really sorry, again. For upsetting you and Benrey earlier. It’s, it’s all very overwhelming.”

Tommy looked at him, listening.

“And murder is just, it’s just something most humans don’t go wanting or having to see. But I also shouldn’t have touched your face without asking. I also don’t really like people doing that.”

Tommy felt his chest ache as Gordon talked. This human was going to be the death of him somehow, it was just unclear as to how he would do so.

“It’s, it is r-r-rather, stressful. Th-The situation I-I mean.” Tommy admitted, taking a sip of his own soda.

“Yeah…”

“Yo bro, got the lil science boy to drink something? Get that nutrients?” Benrey barged in, they gulped down a soda, swallowing loudly. It made Gordon laugh at least.

“Yeah, I’m drinking the soda, thank you.”

Benrey grinned and let out some yellow sweet voice. “Niiice.”

Gordon smiled wider at the two, Tommy let a small curve slip before ensuring he was back to a stern look. It was good enough to make Gordon appear more relaxed at least.

“Are you mother fuckers going to hurry up or what?!” Bubby yelled, the three looked over to see Dr Coomer and Bubby were already at the next room. How the? They were just drinking the soda only a second ago!

Oh well.

“’M tiiiired.” Benrey announced, promptly dropping onto the cold floor and staying there. Looks like they were resting for a bit then. Tommy sat beside Benrey and pulled them onto his lap, Gordon sat down in front of Tommy while Dr Coomer and Bubby sat together.

Benrey moved their head to rest on Tommy’s chest, yawning with sharp teeth showing. Gordon’s heart skipped a beat at seeing them snuggled up like that, and the soft hold Tommy had around them.

“So, what about your guy’s lives? Got any family Dr Coomer?” Gordon asked.

“Well, I did have a wife, but they took her in the divorce!” He replied, still smiling wide as if he didn’t just say something that’d raise an eyebrow.

“They took your wife in the divorce?”

“Hello, Gordon! Yes.”

“What the, what do you mean TOOK your wife?!”

“Now Gordon I believe it is rude to press on personal matters!”

He did have a point…

“Yeah, shut the fuck up, Gordon.”

Bubby put it a lot less nicely, but Gordon couldn’t help but chuckle at the old man’s bluntness. He turned to Tommy, who was still protectively holding a near asleep Benrey.

“How about you Tommy?”

“Hm?”

“Got any family, like where are you from?”

Tommy sat there in silence for a moment.

“I… I d-don’t know I’m an o-orphan.” He replied. Gordon’s face changed to one of sadness but didn’t say anything. Benrey opened their eyes for a moment to quickly shoot the pigeon walking closer, no one can take Benrey’s cuddle spot.

“B-But I have a dog!”

“Oh really? What’s your dog’s name?”

Tommy stared at Gordon for a moment yet again, his head saying the words but he couldn’t quite get it out…

“S-sunkist.”

There we go.

“You, named your dog after soda?”

“I-It’s a good n-n-name for the p-perfect dog.”

Gordon kept giggling. “You really like soda, don’t you?”

Wasn’t it obvious? Tommy rolled his eyes.

“Yeah.”

Tommy looked back down at Benrey; their face squished against his chest. He brushed some hair out of their face and looked back up at Gordon.

“So um, what about Benrey?”

Tommy’s eyes flicked down to the ground; his arms pressed them closer to himself.

“Isn’t v-very n-nice. Th-that’s for B-Benrey to t-t-tell you.” Tommy replied.

“Yeah, that’s probably best. He looks so tired…”

“I-It’s been a l-long day…”

Gordon nodded and rested against the wall, Tommy looking away to rest with Benrey.

The room was quiet, Tommy’s eyes wandered at the group settling down to rest. What was life going to be like when they escaped? He’s waited for this day for so long and it’s so close to his reach.

And he hadn’t a single clue what he was going to do with that freedom. The sound of Benrey’s breathing reminded him of who else was holding out on this hope, and he promised that Benrey would see the day of freedom. He has to, he can’t let Benrey down.

Not like his ‘family’ did, whoever they are. If he even had one. There was no point in bothering about whoever they are, they abandoned Tommy. They do not deserve a place in his thoughts. His eyes gazed on to Gordon, he knew what life is like outside… Maybe if things go well he can assist him and Benrey. Maybe...

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froggycatvest · 4 years ago

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Title: There’s a cafeteria? Words: 1000 Ships: None, but will have cute moments between Benrey/Tommy, and Benrey having a little feelings for Gordon. Warnings: None Characters: Benrey, Gordon, Dr. Coomer, Tommy, Bubby Part 1 of ? Part 2 HERE

This is just whatever interaction popped into my head as I try to write from Benrey’s pov as they travel along in Black Mesa. Set some time after Gordon gets his gun hand. Just supposed to be fun and funny stuff.

Benry was already bored with the empty corridors they were travelling down and had sped up his pace to run towards the room that was up ahead, but Gordon called him back.

“Don’t,” he scolded, “run off on your own.”

Benry paused, automatically looking at him with a blank expression. The man was always ordering everyone around, but there really wasn’t much else to do, so Benry would mostly listen. He double backed to get in close and to stare directly at him, and Gordon straightened up, taking half a step away as he usually did when confronted.

“Please,” he continued on, imploringly. “Just this once, can you stay with the group? Whenever you disappear, bad things tend to happen when you reappear.”

He never disappeared. He just got lost. “Well I think that’s your fault.”

Gordon blinked. “My fault?” A slow grin slid onto his face. “Oh, are we playing this game again?” He snorted out sarcastically. “Yeah, ok, tell me how is that my fault?”

He was pretty sure everything was Gordon Freeman’s fault since the beginning, but the man would deny it, so Benry shrugged and said simply, “You leave me behind.”

Gordon pressed forward. “Because you disappear. I never know where you go.”

Benry didn’t back down. “You’re the one running off ahead. You tell me not to do that but that’s all you do.”

And it was true. Benry would look away for one moment, get distracted by one thing, and suddenly the room would be empty, his calls of Hello? going unanswered. Not that it was hard to find them. He would just follow the trail of dead bodies and broken boxes and empty soda cans.

At least it looked like Gordon conceded the point, a sheepish look to his face. “I, ah, well, maybe?” But his tone changed back to his leaderly ways. “Look, you need to keep up. I can’t babysit all of you. You’re a grown man and you need to stop wandering off in the middle of danger.” He immediately put up a hand to keep Benry from saying anything, which meant Gordon Freeman was going to talk and not stop.

“Not that I’m concerned about you. Danger has no meaning to you, does it? You get crushed, you’re fine. I shoot you in the face, you don’t flinch. Which is so badass, but--” Benry had spaced out during the lecture, but blinked to attention at being told he was kinda cool. “--then you always--”

“Yeah you’re welcome.”

Gordon tripped over his words at the interruption. “F-for what?”

“You’re welcome.”

“...Listen.” Gordon looked like he was going to take hold of Benry’s shoulder, which he usually did when he needed to get someone to pay attention. But he stopped and pulled back. “Just...be good. Stay.”

How many times did he have to tell Gordon Freeman that this was his fault?

Benry was about to repeat the facts, but Dr. Coomer ran up to them.

“Gordon, you can’t keep leaving a member of our team behind.”

Gordon’s eyes widened at the older man. “Don’t defend him,” he whined, which made Benry bite his lip and turn away to hide it. When the others said or did things that made Gordon react in a variety of funny ways, Benry wanted to add to it and bug him more.

“I’m a team member,” Benry said to the wall, his tone light. “You have to treat me well.”

“Uh huh.” Gordon did not sound amused as he came up to Benry’s side. “Did you treat me well after you betrayed me?”

Benry glanced at the man’s face, at his raised eyebrow, then at the gun attached to the other’s arm. It had been exciting. There had been action and fighting. But then after that, after they took him away, he didn’t know where to go or what to do. It sucked.

“Yeah sorry.”

“Y--wait. You’re...you’re apologizing?”

He looked and sounded all kinds of things--shocked, confused, in disbelief. Gordon Freeman had so many emotions, and they were all fun to interact with. Except maybe the heartfelt ones--the genuine compliments. Benry didn’t know how to act around those.

He didn’t answer and sidestepped him. He was just used to saying sorry, because he was polite and professional. It was automatically tacked on to his sentences sometimes. He began to head to the room they hadn’t gone in yet.

“Hey! Hey.” Gordon rushed after him, and when Benry saw that he was smiling brightly, his feet stopped him in bewilderment. An arm was slung over his shoulder, Benry tensing and warming slightly at the touch and then at the sheer absolute delight in the other’s words.

“Too late. You said it. No take backs.” Gordon turned to everyone else, pulling Benry along with the movement and jostling him. “You all heard that, right? Benrey’s real sorry that he was a big bad backstabbing bastard to me.”

Benry frowned. He hadn’t done anything wrong, but was appreciative when Tommy approached them and said kindly,

“It’s okay, Benrey. We forgive you.”

Gordon let go of Benry to correct the situation gently. “No. No, Tommy. We are not forgiving him.”

“Tommy thank you.”

Annoyed noises came from Gordon’s throat as he looked between them, his mouth opening to say something, but Bubby strode past them.

“Let’s go already,” he said, sounding just as annoyed.

“Hey, you betrayed me, too. Don’t forget.”

“Nonsense. That’s in the past. You said so yourself.”

“That’s.” Benry wanted to say something, but he had to stop or else he’d start laughing under his breath. But Gordon always seemed to hear him no matter how quiet he was and was already questioning him.

“What? What did you say?”

Benry’s mouth moved on its own. “Your hand’s in the past.”

Gordon’s eyes widened slowly in realization. “You think you’re funny? A real funny guy?” He gave him a strained smile, beckoning him with the gun attached to his arm. “Come here.”

Benry ran.

#hlvrai #benrey #will he behave?#who knows?#mine

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maximumsnow · 4 years ago

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Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Half Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware, HLVRAI - Fandom Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Gordon Freeman, Tommy Coolatta, Dr. Coomer (Half-Life), Bubby (Half-Life), Benrey (Half-Life) Additional Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-typical swearing, Basically an au exploring what if HLVRAI followed Half Life a little more closely, Au where there isn't a betrayal in that one spot, Mainly was wondering what would happen to the others if they hadn't been in on it., Some things change some don't, Title is subject to change because I got nothing, Oh also this is sort of intended as a not a game au Summary:

Anyone who knows original Half-Life knows that the ambush happens in that spot no matter what. What would have happened if the ambush was as rough for the others?

After the encounter with the weirdly nimble soldiers, figuring out where to go next was not an easy task. Especially since Gordon’s companions apparently got hung up at the sight of moths. To be fair, he wouldn’t have expected moths to hang out after all the explosions either, but the problem was that they were all wasting ammo trying to hit tiny targets.

WAS THAT A GRENADE LAUNCHER?

He dove out the way as Tommy’s gun flung an explosive towards the bugs fluttering near a light. As the smoke cleared, he tried yelling, “THEY’RE JUST MOTHS!”

More explosions were all he got for his troubles.

Overcome with the sheer ridiculousness, he couldn’t help but break down laughing as he heard Dr. Coomer yell something about tranquilizing them.

Tommy stopped shooting long enough to forcibly hand Gordon something, and it wasn’t until it was in his hands that he realized that it was yet another human skull. “If they’re-if they’re just moths, then how do you explain this, Mr. Freeman?”

… You know what, given everything else, sure. Why wouldn’t there be killer moths that stripped human corpses to the bones? At the rate things were going, that would only rank at number fifteen on the top twenty list of messed up things he had run into today.

Given that the dang things were apparently still unharmed despite all the bullets and grenades, he was grateful when Bubby called for Gordon to meet him on the platform. By the time he got there, Bubby was already pulling a SURFACE ACCESS lever.

Or was trying to.

“Uhhh, want some help?” Gordon offered as he got closer.

“No, dumbass, I’m fine.”

Arguing wouldn’t do anything, so he turned away to keep an eye on the others. Coomer was already nearby, and if Bubby wouldn’t let Gordon help, then Coomer could take over when Bubby inevitably got too frustrated.

Tommy and Benry joined them after a few minutes, and Gordon would have been more concerned over Tommy’s frightened expression if that hadn’t been the default look ever since this whole mess started. Still, he felt the need to ask, “You good, Tommy?”

“Y-yeah Mr. Freeman. The moths aren’t- They’re being mesmerized by the lamp and ignoring us for now.”

“That’s good.” He reached over patted Tommy’s shoulder. The contact was brief, but Tommy’s tension visibly eased. Which was really good since the taller scientist still had a death grip on his gun.

“You didn’t want your doughnut?” Benry suddenly asked in his deadpan tone.

“… What? Doughnut?” Gordon was already tired of this conversation and it just started. He didn’t even know where the security guard had seen a doughnut.

Just the mention of it, however, reminded him that he could really go for some cheap fried dough right now.

“Yeah, Tommy handed it to you earlier.” Benry threw something at Gordon’s feet.

He looked down at the object and yelled in frustration, “THIS IS A SKULL!”

“It’s got like. Holes in it. Doughnuts have holes.”

“Uggghhhh. That’s not how that works! Doughnuts are made of dough for one thing-”

His rant was cut off by Coomer excitedly yelling, “Let’s go! You can eat your pastry after we get out!”

Gordon sighed and kicked the skull away before following the others back down the ladders. For many reasons, he was glad to get out of that open space, but the hallways ahead felt quiet.

Too quiet.

“Surface access!”

Until his companions decided to play some sort of word game that he couldn’t begin to guess the rules of. “Surface assess.”

“Surface asses! Let’s go!”

… Okay that one got a chuckle out of him.

The chattering turned into background noise as they walked through the hall, and while he was a little frustrated that they were making noise, another part was grateful that their nonsense made this whole horror show bearable.

Going through this alone would have sucked, and it was hard for the horror to set in when he was forced to listen to Inane Comments FM at any given moment.

He was shaken out of his thoughts when Coomer loudly announced, “This will cut down our travel to the Lambda Lab by about three hours!”

By this point, he didn’t really put much stock in Coomer’s time estimates, but he played along, “Th-that’s the whole thing! The entire duration.”

There was a door leading off from the hallway, and Bubby had no hesitation in going straight towards the medical station that was visible even from where Gordon was standing. The others filed in behind him with Gordon bringing up the rear.

Benry chose that moment to say, “Oh look a TV with Blu-Ray!” Which caused everyone else to throw in comments on the topic. Even though there was nothing of the sort nearby-

The lights went out.

“Annnnnd the lights are out. Who knocked out the lights? Who’s fucking with me?” Gordon was more exasperated than worried. This would be right up their alley, even though he had no idea what the prank was going to be.

“Uhhhhhh, What the hell? What’s happening?” Bubby’s voice was a lot more nervous than it should have been.

“Oh, it’s DARK in here...” Thank you, Captain Obvious. Gordon’s money was currently on Benry being the culprit, if the complete lack of surprise was anything to go by. If he was more generous, Gordon would cede that Benry’s deadpan delivery could have also been a cover up for surprise, but he just wanted to get out and not blow a vessel with how much the guard stressed him out.

“Has anyone seen Mr. Freeman?” Wait, where was Dr. Coomer if-

Gunshot.

The bullet didn’t hit him.

But something warm and liquid did.

“SHIT-” Was all he was able to yell out before something hard slammed against the back of his head and knocked him face first to the ground. As soon as he down, whatever attacked him continued hitting him. He tried to curl up as if that would protect him from the onslaught of punches and kicks and who knows what else was hitting him.

“What are you doing!? We just wanna go home!”

“Let go of me you damn boot boys!”

“Help me, Gordon!”

The Science Team’s voices barely cut through the haze in his mind, and he tried so hard to hold onto that. If they were having this much trouble, he had to get back up and take the lead…

There was another gunshot, and the sound made his head scream in pain. It took him way too long to figure out why he wasn’t feeling the agony of being shot. He jolted up and screamed, “GUYS?” Before something else connected with his head, and he blacked out.

#My Writing #Hlvrai #Gordon HLVRAI #Benrey #Benry #Tommy Coolatta #Dr Coomer #Bubby #Hlvrai AU

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eggs-ontoast · 4 years ago

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HLVRAI Asks - 1, 2, 16, 22!

1: How’d you find out about HLVRAI?

Honestly i can't completely remember, but during quarantine i was jumping back onto the Valve train and i was just bingeing Content from Tf2, Portal, And HL. So i'm pretty sure HLVRAI just came into my recommendations section and i starting watching-

But i specifically remember watching the first edited Commentary before the actual Acts, and i got hooked on the actors and they dynamic and just decided to check out what they were talking about- And now i have tumblr because of it :)

2: Who’s your favorite character and why?

Honestly- i'm not one on favorites, i barely have any answers to general favorite questions- so i'll just give you my opinions on the characters instead.

Tommy: How can you not love tommy? He's baby- and not in the child "baby" way- he's just a generally likeable character probably the only one that would actually be my friend irl.

Benr(e)y: hell yeah gaymer time- Benrey is a very funny character, and kinda relatable? In the "i can't really express my emotion" kind of way. That might just be me projecting though, but also i kinda slur my words and trip my self up when talking like benrey(this also somehow happens when typing too) and he's just amazing and hella chaotic and it's great- but i can't write how he talks for the life of me.

Bubby: Feral grandpa- Bubby is the one that has been shaped mostly by the fandom for me, in the actual acts i kept getting his voice mixed up with Dr.coomer's and he was really in my radar as much as the others. Which is really sad because he's a really good character when i was actually able to pay attention to him when i rewatched the series.

Dr.Coomer: HELLO GORDO- Everyone loves him, he's great- Holly plays dr.Coomer amazingly and her improve totally makes the character. The amount of memory lines they have is amazing, and i'm not sure how much i would actually be able to stay afloat on this fandom without them.

Darnold: Potion master! Even though his in the world for a quarter of the main cast adventure i can't help but love him!

Forzen: Solider man! He's cool not much about him, at least on my radar- But he kinda threaten a dog at gun point, not nice >:(

Gordon: Ah yes feetman, the protag! Honestly the way wayne portrays gordon is amazing, especially at the science teams causal murderous actions :D he's the one that just slowly gets dragged down into insanity and he really needs therapy by the time he gets home.

16: If you could be in any video game, which one would you be in?

Actually this is kinda hard to answer! I would like to say portal, but i would probably die in that situation- actual most of the games i like would probably get me killed-

uh i'll just go with portal.

22: What do you think is inside G-man’s suitcase?

I never really thought about it, in universe it would probably just be whatever g-man needs at that moment and it just changes dependant on the situation.

But the meme answer is HL3

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thats-so-religious · 6 years ago

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From Kosher Meals to Conversion, “Black Cindy” Becomes “Tova”: Examining Judaism in Orange is the New Black

“I’m ready to get my Jew on. And it ain’t just about the food although the more I been learnin’, the food a big part of it, am I right?”

The catalyst for the most intriguing storyline in season three of the Netflix dramedy Orange is the New Black (2013) begins unexpectedly, and religiously, at the heart of all Jewish culture (and my Bubbie’s number one concern when I enter the house): food. Although disappointingly, not with bagels. Nonetheless, Orange is the New Black (OITNB) highlights a wonderfully rich example of the relationship of religion in popular culture. In understanding this relation, Bruce David Forbes invites us to consider the fundamental questions about how religion is expressed and portrayed in the series (11 – 12).

After the privatization of Litchfield Penitentiary, notoriously mediocre prison meals become significantly worse. To reduce costs, the inmates’ meals start coming pre-prepared. In a word, the brown slop that the women are served appears as if when ladled onto a serving tray makes a sound that’s repulsive enough to make viewers want to dry-heave.

However, the inmates discover a loophole to combat eating the thawed sludge. Lolly Whitehill, a savvy inmate, suggests that, “if you tell cafeteria workers you’re Jewish, you’ll get kosher meals, which is way better than prison food – and they can’t question your religion, because it’s illegal”.

Predictably, this leads to a sudden increase in the number of “Jewish” inmates who keep kosher. MCC, the private prison corporation, becomes suspicious of the growing affinity for Judaism after requests for kosher meals increases. In an effort to save money, while also making some unanticipated holocaust jokes, MCC sends a “Rent-a-Rabbi” to Litchfield to detect who is actually Jewish.

During Rabbi Tatelbaum’s interrogations, the women recite every Jewish stereotype and trope in an attempt to receive kosher meals. Though, Cindy “Black Cindy” Hayes goes above and beyond, as she passionately intertwines the plots from Annie Hall and Yentl into the story of her upbringing.

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OITNB has been lauded for its diverse representation of female characters and the nuance with which their stories are told. Yet, prima facie the portrayal of Judaism and Jews in this precise scene has received some audience backlash as problematic, and at worst, has been chided as anti-Semitic. This critique of OITNB merits further reflection.

Sana Amanat’s discussion on identity, representation in media, and stereotyping provides a useful starting point for thinking about OITNB. In her TEDx Talk, Amanat describes how our individual identity is tied to the group identity, and how this social identity can be affected and oftentimes shaped by larger cultural representations, particularly through the imposition of stereotypes (5:32 – 7:00). Stereotyping can be detrimental to the sense of self because it works to flatten and essentialize diversity into a binary, ultimately seeking to minimize and categorize non-dominant groups as “Other” (Harris). The stereotypes that the women express in their interviewers are not meant to demonize, disempower, negatively impact, or belittle Jewish folks; in my decoding of the scene (Hall), it appears to do quite the opposite. The montage highlights the women’s ignorance and lack of maliciousness toward Judaism, while simultaneously debunking the validity of the stereotypes because of their absurdity. For instance, when Tasha “Taystee” Jefferson proclaims, “you know what I hate? Shrimps. Damn, dirty shrimps. Don’t even talk to me about shrimps!” its purpose is not to position Judaism as the punchline of the joke, it’s to convey a message about Taystee’s lack of knowledge and society’s habitually simplistic (mis)understanding of Jewish cultural traditions and religion more broadly. In contrast to how Muslims are discursively depicted in Western popular culture as one-dimensional caricatures of America-hating villains, the Jewish stereotypes in OITNB are clearly just funny - I mean, did you hear the woman spontaneously break out into her own rendition of “Hava Nagila”? The stereotypes are not indicative of xenophobia, nor do the portrayals actually influence national security policy discussions. I would be hard-pressed to find any Jews being detained by the TSA because of stereotypes surrounding their dietary restrictions.

When Cindy Hayes doesn’t make the list of inmates approved for kosher meals, she decides to convert to Judaism. Cindy makes a genuinely tearful plea to the Rabbi that captures the crux of Judaism, and what it means to truly practice one’s religion. In the season three finale, Cindy’s conversion comes to a climax as it just so happens that there’s a lake beside the prison enabling her to have her Mikvah.

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Black Cindy’s conversion to Judaism is treated as a serious development in her character arc. Susanna Danuta Walters’ questioning of “whose gaze?” (Harris) can help us understand the meaning behind this plotpoint. When Cindy is given permission to convert, it’s obvious the storyline that began as a joke is no more. Cindy’s desire to convert doesn’t merely stem out of wanting better meals, it emanates from feeling estranged from her own religious roots. Moreover, Rabbi Tatelbaum recognizes that Cindy is lying and instead of becoming irritated he applauds her endeavour to understand Jewish culture through examining classic Jewish cinema. OITNB portrays the Rabbi as empathetic, and Judaism as a religion that is open and accepting of newcomers, rather than rigid. I don’t always see robust portrayals of religion or religious leaders as dynamic and openhearted. Additionally, given the lack of representation for Jews of colour, it’s particularly noteworthy that the show prominently features one and challenges the audiences’ notion of who can be Jewish be providing depth and authenticity to a different perspective.

Lastly, Catherine Albanese’s functional definition of religion as the effects it has in daily life, and how it aids people in dealing with the “ills” of living (Forbes & Mahan 17) is the essence behind Cindy’s conversion. The function of religion goes beyond merely obtaining kosher meals. Religion serves not only as a way to provide Cindy with a multifaceted storyline, but it also demonstrates her ability to exercise literal and metaphorical freedom and agency over her life when imprisoned. In this, Cindy’s religious journey is worth scrutinizing as it’s relatable and accessible to viewers. Where at its core, religion serves the same function inside or outside of prison: providing guidance and an escape from the struggles of everyday life.

Works Cited

Forbes, Bruce David. “Introduction: Finding Religion in Unexpected Places.” Religion and Popular Culture in America, edited by Bruce David Forbes andJeffrey H. Mahan, University of California Press, 2017, pp. 1 - 24.

Harris, Jennifer A. “Introduction to Religion & Popular Culture.” 10 January. 2019, University of Toronto, Toronto. Class Lecture.

Harris, Jennifer A. “’Reel Bad Arabs’: Representations of Muslims & Islam in Popular Culture.” 31 January. 2019, University of Toronto, Toronto. Class Lecture.

Harris, Jennifer A. and Hall, Stuart. “’It’s a Bird!’ Superheroes & Their Religious Roots.” 24 January. 2019, University of Toronto, Toronto. Class Lecture.

Kohan, Jenji, creator. Orange is the New Black. Netflix, 2013.

“Fear, and Other Smells.” Orange is the New Black, season 3, episode 8, Netflix, 11 Jun. 2015.

“Trust No Bitch.” Orange is the New Black, season 3, episode 13, Netflix, 11 Jun. 2015.

“Where my Dreidel At.” Orange is the New Black, season 3, episode 9, Netflix, 11 Jun. 2015.

“Myths, Misfits & Masks: Sana Amanat at TedxTeen 2014.” Youtube, uploaded by Tedx Talks. 17 March 2014, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o9lev9739zQ.

Media Content

Cindy Hayes, Lunch Line gif: https://giphy.com/gifs/oitnb-shabbat-shalom-26BkNHIQcJGbN2tAQ

Video I: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R3_f8h0MIbU

Video II: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jO94rhKJAR8

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bogb0ng · 7 years ago

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Excuse me ma'am, we're going to have to see you answer 1-100.

Yessir!

1. I always have more milk than cereal! (i’m basically a child)

2. I love the cold on my cheeks but 9i don’t like th burning sensation after too much

3. Scraps of papers sometimes i just fold the page corner

4. I take my coffee with just creamer and my tea i take black!

5. Absolutely not! i love my smile and i’m very happy

6. i do! i have a cactus at home and I have an aloe plant in my dorm room

7. not really thats a lot to remember

8. I use poetry, drawings, and writing to express myself. sometimes song lyrics

9. fun fact I hum all the time if you listen really closely! if im really comfortable i’ll sing

10. I sleep on my Tum! also wrapped around a body pillow because i get lonely at night

11. we don’t have any yet!

12. PLUTO! (viva la pluto fuck you!)

13. talking to my friend Hunter

14. it’s probably your typical open concept brick warehouse type flat

15. a shot glass filled with neutron star matter would weigh as much as mount everest!

16. I really like cajun chicken fettuccini

17. either blonde or ginger

18. I used to pretend to be married to my best friend in kindergarten... i guess thats one

19. I’ve been wanting to keep a journal for a while, but i just can’t

20. oddly enough I really like deep brown/hazel eyes, but also blue!

21. sadly that bag was retired long ago after the straps broke years ago, but i had a green turtle backpack with spikes all over it!

22. NOOOO I’m very much the person who convinces you to get back in bed and snuggle

23. walk around pantsless eat yummy snacks, binge watch netflix and play video games all day!

24. Yes, but sadly she’s in Alberta and we rarely get to talk, but she knows everything

25. oddly enough i trespassed into my cousins old property to hot tub.

26. A pair of brown boots my mom bought me (they look like hiking boots)

27. Spearmint!!

28. sunset! because then i get to watch the moon rise

29. they check up on me

30. yes. petrified

31. I love really fuzzy socks! i sleep with them when my feet are cold (which is apparently always right now) i have tons of wool socks, but like 2-3 pairs of normal socks.

32. I’m like never awake past 2 am so i don’t have any stories im sorry!

33. I really like cupcakes!!

34. I still have him!! I named it Bubby.. it kinda looks like a mouse crossed with a bear?? and it has this rattle inside it.. idk i still have it somewhere and i love it

35. I love them! but i don’t buy them ever because my writing is very messy and I don’t have anyone to send my pretty stationary

36. City and colour mostly

37. my rooms a mixture of messy and clean at times

38. I hate rude people! especially when people fake not knowing who i am or ignoring me.... and petty people

39. black... most of my wardrobe is black lol

40. I have a bracelet from pandora that i lost and never found..... I’m really sad because it had all these charms that were sentimental to me :(

41. the new harry potter cursed child book!! I was so into it!

42. I don’t but i guess timmies is cool

43. no one. i watch the stars alone most nights because no one will with me

44. actually i’m feeling serene and at peace right now for some reason!

45. yes. but also no because they can lead me astray

46. I’m not very good with puns sorry!!

47. any kind of animal testicles

48. Heights and falling from them.... yes i’m still terrified

49. I never actually bought a CD

50. I collect teeth... like the metal ones i’ve made in lab! (i work in dental)

51. Slow hands.... (don’t ask me why)

52. hewwo (i hate and love it)

53. LOVEEEEEE rocky horror is my fave

54. myself....

55. straight up chugged some hot sauce

56. a heart of gold, a sweet smile, a good sense of humor and a sense of the world

57. It makes me feel good and of course~! go hard or go home

58. Julians the vodka (aunt) and Ash is the wine (mom)

59.the lochness monster actually!

60. Anything from Neil highborne

61. an already owned batman figurine i gave to my brother when i was 5 and i received a selfie stick....

62. yeppers!! either orange juice or cranberry raspberry juice

63. i just leave em be

64. pitch black right now

65.Yeah I’d love to see Devon tbh

66. probably big yellow sunflowers because i’m happy rn

67. I love them! i feel at home oddly

68. very cold and covered in snow. YAY CANADA

69. i actually don’t like board games i prefer card games!

70. no and i dont wanna

71. I really like a tea called sweet lime

72. yesssss!!!

73. i bite my nails when i’m extremely anxious

74. lets see they’re very kind and caring. they care about me no matter what mood i’m in they don’t talk with me often, but i always feel safe when i talk to them.

75. i have a golden retriever! his name is crash and he’s a goofball!!

76. studying

77. PINK! OMIGOSH!!!!

78. hateeeee

79. told me i was cute

80. white :( no i didn’t get to choose

81. the dark spot/circle where a knot used to stick out of a tree on a stained coffee table

82. not the greatest, but i try

83. everything from imagine dragons

84.yess!!! i want tree rings and plants

85. i used to! archie comics all the wayyyy

86. eh no

87. rocky horror, a clock work orange, lord of the rings

88. banksy i like a lot

89. i was a lot more when i was younger, but i’m struggling since we butt heads from time to time it feels

90. CN TOWER THAT IS ALL

91. scotland!! i want to see my heritage

92. DROWN ER IN CHEESE

93. hair in a bun or down in my messy curly mop

94. chris was!

95. i’m going on a halloween haunt friday night and studying the rest of the weekend!!

96. procrastinateee lol i hate updates

97. ISFP, Capricorn, Hufflepuff

98. it’s been a long time, but i love hiking so much!! i love being alone in nature

99. hunter, chris, robin, brendan, josh, katie

100. probably 5 years into the future? im always wondering what the future holds for me so yeah!

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froggycatvest · 4 years ago

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Title: There’s a cafeteria? Words: 2000 Ships: None, but this part here is the hopefully cute moments between Benrey/Tommy, and where Benrey has his little feelings for Gordon Warnings: None Characters: Benrey, Tommy, Gordon Part 3 of ? Part 1 HERE, Part 2 HERE

This is a story where they find a cafeteria. No dangers, just lighthearted interaction here, I think. Some people just want to hold hands here.

---

When everyone joined Gordon at the table, Benry silently returned to the room to explore what he couldn’t before. What caught his eye was the serving area on the far side. As he approached, he noticed it was completely empty. No heating trays filled with the menu of the day. No pots containing self serve soups or stews. The chill boxes with the clear doors had no ready made sandwiches or salads or desserts.

Hm. Just like home.

He had just started to climb up on the counter for fun when Tommy’s friendly voice sounded near him.

“Benrey, there are so many soda fountains here.” Benry could hear him smiling. “They have all your favorite flavors.”

He hadn’t noticed, but when he looked to the far wall, he saw there were also dispensers for milk, coffee, tea, juices, and water.

“Yours too.”

“Mine, too.” Tommy nodded, before pointing at the machines. “I’m--I’m gonna get some drinks for everyone. Do you wanna help?”

“There’s nothing to eat here.” Why wasn’t there food?

Tommy took his answer in stride. “I think everyone went home. It’s late.”

Benry looked around for a clock. The only time he really cared about was when it was time to finish work. And it was beyond that. At least with their jobs, they were used to working late and not always being able to eat at scheduled breaks.

He stepped away from the counter, staring at Tommy. “Hey you haven’t eaten in a long time have you?”

Tommy’s shoulders fell. “Yeah...”

Benry moved in close to him. “We should do something. Let’s find something for you,” he said, continuing to stare right at him, and Tommy brightened up.

“Okay!” But he took a quick glance at the others at the table. “I’ve got the--the, uhh, the...We’ll get the drinks later.”

After he followed the other’s line of sight, Benry straightened up and started to stalk towards the group. But he came to an abrupt halt when a hand caught his, and his eyes flashed to Tommy’s worried expression.

“He shouldn’t be here,” Benry explained. “The cafeteria’s closed.”

He really wanted to say that to him, to hear what he had to say, to argue with him a bit. But Tommy shook his head.

“Mr. Freeman said he needs a moment to calm down.”

“I don’t think he’s ever calm Tommy. When is he ever calm?”

“When he sits down he is,” Tommy insisted. “We’ve sat a lot.”

Benry glanced back at the table, eyeing Gordon Freeman who was facing away from them. He looked like he was having a conversation, his arms gesturing widely.

“...Why does he move them so much? Why does he do that?”

No one else did it that often. Gordon Freeman moved his hands with every sentence, was always pointing or waving them around, was always reaching out and touching everyone.

Tommy watched for a bit, but answered like he already knew. “It’s how he talks. Everyone talks in a different way. Just like you and your Voice.”

Benry stared blankly. Huh. Maybe that’s why they didn’t understand each other. They spoke differently.

There was a tug on his wrist, Tommy leading him back--which Benry didn’t mind--before letting him go--which Benry did mind. He liked being physically close to others, liked casual affection, and he knew Tommy enjoyed it, too.

“Hold hands again please?”

“Okay.” Tommy didn’t hesitate to reach for him. “But we can’t have food if the cafeteria is closed.”

“We can have food.” They were allowed to be here. They worked here.

This time, Benry led the way and they both pushed through the door that led to the kitchen. Same as the other room, the prep areas were spotless.

Benry huffed, glaring at the refrigerators and freezers. “Nothing here.”

“Ohh, it can be a game,” Tommy said in wonderment upon realization. “First to find something good.”

Benry yanked a few cabinets open nearby eagerly. If there was one thing they both enjoyed together, it was a race. But every cabinet above and below only contained pots, pans, trays, and plates. “Who does this?”

“That’s how kitchens are,” Tommy said, matter-of-fact. “You gotta check the pantry.”

Another door led to an enclosed area filled with shelves and storage containers, Tommy disappearing inside. Benry followed, but there was nothing already made or easy to eat.

“We should get takeout. We should order delivery.”

Tommy looked up at him from where he was crouched searching through numerous cans on the bottom shelf. “I think that’s against company policy.”

Breaking company policy sounded great. Getting food delivered sounded better.

Benry’s voice rose, excited at the thought. “Get on the phone.”

Another voice cut through from the doorway, a bit smug, a bit reprimanding.

“Didn’t you say something about how you never walk off?” Gordon stood there, arms crossed and head tilted, and when Benry didn’t answer, he grinned at Tommy. “Hey, Tommy. What do you got there?”

Tommy stood up with two of his findings, one in the crook of each arm. “Look how large these cans of soup are.”

“That’s like, the size of a bucket,” Gordon said, impressed. “I bet that could feed us all. You want to go heat that up? I’ll come and help.” When Tommy slid past him, Gordon patted him on the back in a friendly manner.

“I’ll be right there. You coming, Benrey?”

Benry’s eyes narrowed. Gordon Freeman really did just touch anyone whenever to convey some type of message and no one seemed to mind. Benry had stepped away half of the time it happened to him, usually because Gordon was being sarcastic or rude at the time. But with the others, he was nice or encouraging...or sometimes a bit desperate to get a point across--which was funny to see.

Most of the time Gordon seemed to lay a hand on him lately was to hit him across the room. Not that it hurt, but it was mean. Gordon Freeman was only mean to him and Benry wanted nice touches again.

He must’ve been thinking for a while, because Gordon began to shift, coughing to get his attention. “Hey, come on. You can talk, you know. I kinda prefer it. Feels a little weird when you don’t.” He began to ramble on. “Especially since you never seem to blink and you’re standing in a tiny room that’s not very well lit. You know like in those horror stories, where there’s that one ghost or demon just standing there not moving and--”

Benry found himself tuning out and he stared down at his own hands. Tommy said Gordon Freeman spoke differently, used his hands to communicate. Maybe if he tried the same way…

He strode up to him, Gordon cutting himself off from whatever he was saying to give him a confused look. He firmly placed his hand on the other’s shoulder, maintaining intense eye contact. Not that he meant to--he was trying to focus instead of blanking out again. Every time he did that Gordon Freeman walked off.

Instead, Gordon waited patiently for a response, and prompted when there was none. “Dude?”

Benry’s eyes widened a fraction.

Oh shit he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t think this far. This didn’t quite feel the same as when he held hands with Tommy, or sat close by Dr. Coomer, or played games and chatted with Bubby. This felt stiff and cramped and--

“You speak weird.”

“You know,” Gordon started off, surprisingly not irritated in the slightest at his insult. “Everything you accuse me of, you do yourself, did you know that? Like your weird light show when you aaa,” he said wiggling his fingers around for emphasis. “That’s speaking weird.”

Benry didn’t understand how it was weird when Gordon was the one who tried to mimic his Voice. He tried to learn what it meant and he tried to make the sounds. Benry heard him compliment it multiple times. And it was...nice. It was nice that he liked it.

“You said it was beautiful.”

Gordon’s voice squeaked like he was caught. “I did? You heard that?” He was flustered for just a moment, but he composed himself easily, words firm. “I’ve...gotten used to it. You could just use words to communicate instead. Well, actually, I don’t understand you most of the time when you do that, either, but…” he trailed off, eyes sweeping to the hand still on his shoulder.

“Why are you doing this anyway? You’ve never done this before.”

It’s not that he sounded accusing, and he knew he was changing the topic, but Benry automatically threw it back at him.

"You’re the one doing things no one does. You touch people’s faces and you think you can get away with it.”

Gordon sputtered out a laugh, clearly not expecting that. “Okay, yeah. I guess you’re right. That’s a little weird. Are you mad about when I did that to you? That feels like forever ago now that I think about it.”

Benry remained quiet at first. He was expecting an argument, for him to deny it or get defensive. Arguing and denying things was fun. People agreeing with him was even better. But Gordon Freeman was laughing and seemed relaxed despite Benry’s attempts to aggravate.

“Are you calm now?”

Gordon blinked at that. “Are you asking if I’m okay?”

Benry just stared at him.

“Like, no joking around? You’re not going to insult me if I answer, are you?” Gordon grinned like he was playing around, like no way he believed this was serious. “I cannot imagine how it would be if you--you--actually showed some concern towards me.”

Benry stared harder at that.

“Life would be so easy if you...” Gordon stopped in realization. He looked at the hand on his shoulder. “Are you…?” He gestured. “Wait. Is this…Are you trying to comfort me?”

Benry didn’t answer.

It took a while of mutual unsure staring, before Gordon’s expression softened. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. What about you?”

Light orbs fell from Benry’s mouth.

“Benrey,” Gordon sighed as he rolled his eyes towards the ceiling, which usually meant he was ready to move on.

Benry was, too. The hand communication worked, but his own way was easier. And everything would have been fine, if Gordon Freeman’s fingers hadn’t wrapped around his wrist right then, because having a gentle touch reciprocated made all the difference.

It still felt stiff and cramped, but suddenly everything went warm.

His eyes narrowed at the touch as he inspected it closer. “You’ve uh, you got something to say, then you should say it. Use words to communicate.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but,” Gordon pushed at Benry’s arm, “I’m gonna assume those colors you blew out meant you’re okay, too.”

Benry pulled away without any resistance, muttering and mumbling noises under his breath. “You were trying to hold hands. Is that it?”

He held his hand out, offering it to him, because that’s what he wanted, and because he was being kind and trying to help by doing things Gordon’s way. But Gordon somehow didn’t understand, and his attention went from Benry’s hand to his face with a scoff.

“You trying to make jokes again? Hand jokes? Come on, man. That’s old. Unoriginal.”

“I don’t make jokes about that. I’ve never--”

Gordon made a whole bunch of noises, waving his arms around in an attempt to shush him. “Please. Stop talking.

Benry side-eyed him, unamused. Gordon Freeman had no right to get mad when Benry insulted his intelligence, because the man was dumb and slow and noticed nothing. But he kept quiet as Gordon continued.

“Let’s go eat. I don’t think I trust the others to heat up a can of soup between them without some sort of collateral damage.”

#hlvrai #benrey #tommy coolatta #they are cute #gordon and benrey try to talk it out #they try #they really do #mine

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