#to a lesser degree but judd is still a dick so

[whumpflash]

cw: forced drinking/intoxication, adult language, held at gunpoint, violence, unintentional misgendering (Evyr is female)

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The sun burned hot over cracked earth, and Judd scowled down at his shadow. He'd been up at the asscrack of dawn when the news broke that a supply craft had gone down over the wastes, but even after hours of combing, he had nothing to show for his work but a few protein bars and some scrap metal. Crash was already picked clean when he got there.

Lousy tip. He should've just left in the middle of the night, taken his chances in the dark like all the other scavengers apparently had. 

Judd briefly considered going back over the remains, checking for anything he might've missed, but dismissed the idea. It was too hot to put out any more effort. Better to get back and try to get a good price on the metal.

As he turned to make his way back to camp, a shape in the distance caught his eye.

A crate, he saw as he drew closer. Some scrawny kid was bent over it, trying to pry it open with a knife. Judd came up from behind just as the kid managed to get the top off, keeping quiet as he got a look at its contents.

It was a full crate of wine, of all things. Luxuries intended for the rich assholes who lived in the floating cities. Shit like that would fetch a huge price if he could find someone who could afford it.

"Whatcha got there?" he said, and the kid jumped a foot in the air, scrambling to his feet and standing protectively in front of the crate. Like he actually stood a chance at fighting Judd off if he decided to claim the goods.

"Nothing," the kid said quickly. "It's– it's mine. I found it fair and square."

"That so?" Judd looked past the boy, at the crate. Sixteen bottles. A fucking fortune, and it was in the hands of a twerp who'd gotten lucky. "Looks heavy. Maybe I should do you a favor. Take some off your hands."

The kid had the balls to put a hand on his knife—a tiny thing that looked homemade—and glare up at Judd.

"Finders keepers," he said, and the man laughed.

"You must be new to this," he said, enjoying the way the boy paled as he drew his own weapon, a knife with a blade the size of his forearm. "Finders keepers only works when you're strong enough to keep the big kids away."

He didn't realize they weren't alone until he felt the muzzle of a gun on the back of his head.

"Haven't heard that particular rule before," a low voice came from behind him. "Fancy yourself a big kid, do you?"

Judd heard the click of a hammer being cocked. He dropped his knife.

"That's what I thought. Get on your knees."

Seeing no better option, Judd obeyed. The kid looked irritatingly satisfied with this development. Couldn't he see that this was worse? He was only going to claim half of the bottles. This new fucker would probably take everything.

"Thanks Skye," the boy said.

Or not.

The gunman—Skye—moved around, putting himself between Judd and the boy. And the crate. He wasn't much bigger than Judd. Definitely a bit older, with a weathered, scruffy look about his face and a grim set to his mouth.

"I know your type," he said. "Loud-mouthed asshole who thinks he can bully anyone smaller than him." He raised an eyebrow. "How's it feel to be on the other side?"

Judd kept his mouth shut, staring the stranger down. Skye, who didn't seem to be after an actual answer, continued.

"Folk like you are the reason living down here is such a hell. Preying on the weak like you're the poster child of 'every man for himself', 'stead of building up the community."

Skye was right about the wastes being a living hell, but how the fuck was that Judd's fault? He was just trying to survive, like everyone else. Unlike the kid, he didn't have a fucking knight in shining armor to watch out for him.

"You gonna shoot me?" he said, glaring up at Skye.

"Not unless you make me," the other man replied. "Scavs need to stick together. Funny as it may sound, I'm not your enemy here."

Sure you're not.

"But you still need to be taught some manners," he continued, glancing around as if searching for an idea. "How about… Ah." His gaze landed on the crate behind him. "Y'like wine, bully?"

The fuck was he supposed to say? It wasn't like he was trying to drink something that could keep him fed for weeks.

"You were so eager to snatch it away from Evyr here. Must mean you're a connoisseur, no? Tell you what. You can have a bottle. Evyr?" The kid darted back to grab one from the crate, handing it to Skye. Judd watched warily. Whatever was about to happen, he knew he wasn't gonna be let off with a fucking party favor.

Skye uncorked the bottle with his teeth, a feat that wouldn't be possible were it not for the crack in its neck, running up to a chipped rim.

"Here." The man extended the bottle to Judd. "Drink."

"What?"

"Did I stutter? Drink." He shook the pistol, as if Judd were capable of forgetting it was there. 

He grasped the bottle with one hand, taking a slow sip. He'd had booze before, but never wine. It was tarter than he'd expected, like someone had mixed rotten fruit with vinegar, and it burned his throat like the cheap alcohol that got sold at market sometimes. Judd lowered the bottle, trying to hide the way that one sip made him cough. 

"Did I tell you to stop?" Skye said, pressing the gun to Judd's head when he made no move to continue.

"Fuck you," he muttered, but he drank.

And drank.

And drank.

He tried to ignore the burning in his throat, the dizziness that was already beginning to reach his head, tried to focus on the cool barrel of the gun. 

The bottle was half gone, and still Skye didn't give any sign he should stop. Was he supposed to drink the whole thing? It was at least a liter, if not more, and even a half-drunk bottle was worth its weight in gold.

But the pistol in the other man's hand insisted Judd finish it.

So he did, letting the bottle drop once it was empty. The world spun around him, worsening the nausea that now built in his stomach. When Skye at last holstered the gun, Judd dropped forward, catching himself on his hands. Then, with a surge of brazen stupidity, he lunged for the older man. 

Skye sidestepped his graceless attack easily, dealing him a swift kick to the face that rocked his head to the side and sent him sprawling.

He didn't try to get up.

It didn't cross his mind to struggle as his hands were moved behind his back and tightly bound.

"Gotta leave him on his side," Skye was telling the kid. "Should keep him from choking." He clapped a hand on Judd's shoulder in a manner that was almost friendly.

"You rest up now, bully. The walk home's gonna be real shitty."