Chapter Text
It had been over a year since a kindly scientist had encountered a rather curious experiment. Despite their best efforts, they both remained in Black Mesa, one tied into his job and the other treated like property. There had been some changes, especially for Dr Coomer. His innocent interest in waste disposal had led to "required modifications in order to improve productivity and training value", as had his continued work on the now named Wikipedia. Bubby had faced further testing, mostly dedicated to evaluating his intelligence, though a few "combat training" exercises had been thrown in here and there. He was free to explore Black Mesa these days and choose the projects he wanted to work on, but that was where his freedom ended. He was still required to stay in the facility, return to Biological Research daily for stabilisation injections, be available to partake in whatever fucked up experiments they wanted to run on him and the possibility of being put back in his tube hung over him ominously. It had happened a few times since his proper release, occasionally when he was injured, but more frequently without any explanation. He'd be just strolling around or working on an experiment, or perhaps making notes, only to be struck down and immobilized, then dragged back through the doors of Biological Research, unable to move or protest(if he was even conscious), and slung unceremoniously back into the sludge. Every time he'd be told that it was important, vital, essential, every damn word was thrown in his face, but no actual reason ever came. He formulated his own theories on the matter, but none of them could make him feel better about the matter. Justification was near impossible to find.
Unlike Bubby, Dr Coomer could usually manage to walk the hallways without much incident, but today was going to be different. As he walked from his office towards a testing chamber, an unseen force smacked into him, leaving him winded and pressed against the wall. Startled and disoriented, he flailed wildly for a moment, attempting to fight the source. But there was nothing there. His vision was blurry as eyes rolled about uncontrollably until he managed to find his balance and lift his head. Slow, deep breaths came to him at last and it seemed as though the moment had passed. Perhaps another glitch to make a note of? If he could get back to his office he should probably write this down-
Those thoughts were interrupted by a sharp pain in his abdomen, followed up by a stabbing feeling in his shoulder. He winced and wheezed, propping himself up against the wall. The pain was merciless, now wracking his whole body and a snapping feeling passed through him, as though he had fallen hard on his back and broken it. He squeezed his eyes closed and tried to block it out. This had to be coming from one of his clones. Snippets of sound from the clone's location were filtering into his mind. Screams, giggles, grunts and a distressed cry of "Dr Coomer!". Bubby. That was Bubby's voice. He pushed himself upright, driven by the anguish he heard. He had to get over to biological research before-
A shattering pain erupted from his brain, leaving his ears ringing. His eyes snapped open to look up at the ceiling. Everything seemed blurry and he felt deeply sick. The pain faded away in those moments, as did the sounds. He couldn't lock onto them again.
The clone was dead.
Even though his body begged him to stay on the floor, his mind refused to listen. He stumbled to his feet, moving as though he was drunk, though he certainly didn't have any of the pleasure that could come with inebriation. His lungs were taking laboured breaths as he tried to move down the rocking hallway, crashing into the wall on one side, then pushing himself into the other. Still, his progress was forward and he began to gain control again. Nothing would stop him from reaching his goal.
And then there was a flicker. A spark within him. Before a full-blown surge of energy sent him flying against the wall, his hands scrambling against it as he tried to stay upright while his legs strode forwards uncontrollably. The clone's dead body could no longer contain the volatile energy that kept them all running and linked, so it had routed back to the original. A sense of power flowed through Coomer's body and he felt as though he was ascending above it all. Giddiness filled his mind and for a moment he felt as though he could see beyond anything and do whatever he pleased. If he destroyed every clone if it felt like this every time, how strong would he be? He could crush anyone in his path. He could tear this world apart in seconds. A wicked grin spread across his face at the very thought. Those ideas swirled around as he lost himself to an intoxicating whirlpool of power-
No. He didn't like that. He didn't like it at all.
There would be no drowning in visions of destruction! Absolutely not! And no, there won't be any uptake on maddening power. Big pass on that! Control over all? No thank you!
Well… at least not for today.
Coomer finally found himself back in his body, within Biological Research and just outside of the collection of rooms that were dedicated to creating and studying various experiments. The smell of burning flesh drifted from the room and over to him, making him gag. The queasiness from experiencing his clone's death had not left him and he was forced to slow down and press his head against the wall. Trying to handle all this at once… it was too much.
But he couldn't stop now.
What he finds behind the door is horrific. The entire room is painted with scorch marks and blood. Charred remains of what were once scientists are scattered all over the room. There's the corpse of a large beast, skin completely burnt beyond recognition. Its six limbs, multiple jaws and spiked tail are all Coomer can really make out from what is left. One of the jaws holds what looks to be an arm… most likely the one missing from the clone underneath the creature's body. There's an awful lot of blood around the clone, one clear stab mark right through the lower abdomen and a claw still jabbed directly through the head. Coomer found himself wrapping one arm over his stomach and pressing the other over his head. He was so disturbed that he didn't notice the one living being huddled in a corner of the room… until there was a sob.
His eyes fixed on the figure. Dressed in a lab coat, hands pressed against either side of their head, their entire body shaking. There was some short and messy golden brown hair visible, and the sobs seemed to register as being in a familiar voice. He wasn't sure if he dared believe it. The one survivor of whatever had happened here. But he hoped…
"Bubby?"
The body seized up at those words, before trying to compact further into the corner. Shaky, wheezy breathing could be heard as Coomer crept closer. As he draws near, Bubby finally turns his head to face him. His glasses are broken and tears are streaming down his face. He winces a little as he moves, perhaps from pain. But that doesn't stop him from shaking his head and then turning to face the wall.
"Of course. Of course, they sent you. Please… please Coomer… just. Do it quickly. I won't fight you." Bubby closed his eyes tightly and waited.
"...Do what?" His voice shook. He didn't know what Bubby was expecting but considering their surroundings, it couldn't be good.
"D-don't… please just… just be honest. You don't have to pretend. Just. Kill me already"
Coomer couldn't stop himself from making a distressed noise in response, a sort of rapid intake of breath accompanied by an odd squeaky screech. That was enough to make Bubby turn around fully and look up into his eyes.
"...you're… not here to do that? Why… why are you… I don't understand..." Bubby's voice was shaking and his eyes were filling with fresh tears. Coomer knelt down without a thought about the blood and god knows what else that was on the floor. He looked into those eyes and shook his head.
"Why would I ever do that Bubby? What happened?"
Bubby's face scrunched up and he moved to pull away, then tried to reach for Coomer, before pulling back again. He rocked back and forth, unable to decide if he wanted to run or be comforted. When it became clear that Bubby was too distressed to make a choice, Coomer placed one hand on his shoulder, then cautiously wrapped his other arm around his body, slowly pulling him closer. With each movement, Coomer watches carefully for signs of discomfort or distress, ready to let go at a moments notice if needed. But that wasn't necessary in the end. Soon Bubby was clinging onto him, head buried into his shoulder, shaking and wheezing.
"They- they woke me up. Said, said you. You, you were coming to visit. That there was a test today, you were helping. I d-didn't know what to expect but they said something went, wr-wrong and that I needed to come out immediately and I saw h-him and that, that thing and, and I didn't- I thought- it sounded so much like you- and everyone was telling me to f-f-fight, to charge at it, they said something about about test-testing protective instincts, but I was so scared, I was a fucking coward, I couldn't do, do it, I couldn't and then, then, the claws went right through and. And. And. Oh God. I don't know what happened I could feel myself burning up... Like I, I was going to, to explode and the flames were everywhere and everyone, they, they, they didn't stop screaming and they just kept running in to try and stop me and. And. Oh God. I couldn't. I didn't want to. I thought they k-killed you! I knew when the flames burnt out and got close it wasn't you but- I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry it's too late I d-d-didn't want this.." no more could be made out as his words broke down into sobs.
Coomer remained silent and still as Bubby opened up, only gently rubbing his back and adjusting his hold as necessary. Once the apologies started to spill out, he spoke up. "Oh Bubby, Bubby. Bubby, it's not your fault. We'll sort this out"
"They'll destroy me! They'll put me down! I'm an animal, an experiment, nothing more! I… I thought they'd s-sent you to, to, to, k-k- ah, dispose of me"
"No" Coomer’s tone was so stern that it made Bubby flinch. A reassuring hand is placed on a shoulder and a silent look of 'It's not you that I'm mad at' is given. "You are so much more than that. I will not let them do that to you" Coomer took a shaking hand in his own and squeezed it tightly. "We will get out of here. I promise."
"Bu-buh-but how?"
"The vents, come on! You know all about getting about in them! I'm sure we can both manage it" Coomer managed to scramble up to one using various derbies, before reaching down to offer Bubby a hand. Bubby looked doubtful, but took it and was swiftly lifted up with surprising strength. He felt a little flushed by it but didn't have time to think further as Coomer dragged him along into the depths of Black Mesa.
It wasn't clear how long they had been crawling through the vents at this point, or how far they had gone. Everything looked the same. Dark cold metal surrounded them, distant voices echoed around, occasionally drawing closer and halting the journey until they faded away once more and it felt safe to move on. Occasionally they would try to listen in to the conversations, hoping to guess what department they were over, but that was no easy task. It soon turned into a little game, with both of them trying to propose more outlandish explanations for what they had heard than the suggestion before.
A scream? Bubby claimed that was "Filing. Someone just got the worst damn paper cut!"
"No no, my dear fellow, I do believe we are above the cafeteria. Seems the food quality has deteriorated even further than previously predicted!"
"Oh? No, now I think about it, we must be above weapons. Don't you remember the screaming missile they're developing? Devastating sound on impact!"
"Now, don't be silly! We both know that it's cybernetics who are developing the screaming robot! We can't possibly have a screaming robot and missile! How ridiculous!"
It made for a good temporary distraction from the situation. Even as they crawled through the dark vents, uncertain of where they were going and what might happen, at least the company was good.
Still, eventually, the nagging fears took over once more and Bubby began to feel agitated about the whole situation. He huffed as he tried to find some sort of comfort or an outlet for his anger, but he remained surrounded by a featureless metal prison. He needed to know how much further, or to at least let out his frustration with the situation. "How big are these damn vents? Where the Hell are we?"
Coomer responded almost instantly, in a very cheery voice "Vents! I believe you are referring to ducts! Ducts are conduits or passages used in heating, ventilation, and air conditioning (HVAC) to deliver and remove air. The needed airflows include, for example, supply air, return air, and exhaust air. Ducts commonly also deliver ventilation air-"
"Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh" there's no obvious response to having someone randomly start informing you about vents. Bubby can't help but stare.
"...Ah. I. I do apologise. I have received some… modifications… in order to better facilitate the building of Wikipedia! The free encyclopedia that anyone can edit!" That last sentence seems almost forced. Coomer's face scrunches up a bit in response. "There are still some glitches that need to be dealt with- but I'm sure it'll be handled soon enough!" He could see the way Bubby's face fell. The concern in his eyes. He didn't want him to worry.
"That's. That seems pretty fucked up. That and the clones? Is… is there anything else?"
"Ah… it's really nothing to concern yourself over. I will be perfectly fine! Hello!"
That last part made Bubby even more doubtful than he had been before. But he wouldn't push the subject. Perhaps he should but it felt a little hypocritical. Considering what he was hiding. But it does make him wonder a little bit about what could be ahead for them.
"So, uh, what… what will we do… when… if we escape?"
Coomer ponders for a moment "Well. You could uh. Stay with me for. As long as you like. I mean. I don't exactly have a house but I know somewhere we could go! Then we just. Lay low for a bit. Can't imagine Black Mesa would be too pleased with me stealing their equipment! Even if it is inside my body!"
"Heh… don't think they'll be too damn pleased if you steal me too."
"Well! They'll have to deal with the consequences of treating you like an object on their own! They don't value you properly as a person and thus do not deserve to bitch about it!"
Bubby can't help but wheeze at that. Coomer always had the best responses. He rather hoped he would be able to stay with him for some time. Though that did make him curious. "And uh… what… what do after that?" Black Mesa is all he knew, after all. He couldn't even begin to think of all the possibilities that there would be for them outside.
"Well...whatever we want I guess! We will have to find a way to live sustainably, and eventually, move out of state, I suppose. Perhaps out of the country, for maximum safety… but, ah, after that? Well! If we can acquire a house, I've always wanted to grow a good herb garden! And perhaps do a bit of DIY? Woodwork? Yes… yes, I could make quite a homely space for us!"
"Huh… I've. Not seen many plants before… a herb garden sounds nice." It seemed like such a silly idea for two scientists who delved into incredibly experimental fields. And that's what made it so perfect. So far detached from it all. "I'd love to see what you could make as well… maybe I could help?"
"Yes, yes of course you could!" Coomer just felt relieved that Bubby hadn't had any protests about staying with him. He had got a little ahead of himself with the talk of running away and home comforts. Quite silly really, was he going to ask Bubby to move into a little cottage with him next? He has to stop himself from actually thinking about that idea. It was supposed to be a ridiculous suggestion… and yet...
Coomer's eyes lit up. Literally. A soft green glow emitted from them, lighting up the dull environment. He didn't even realise it. One of the unfortunate side effects of his various "upgrades" was that they could be rather temperamental, activating over strong emotions rather than the intended triggers. The eyes were supposed to light up in dark locations, and this was certainly a dark location, but he was meant to have some degree of control over it.
The sudden light drew Bubby's attention, and he looked at Coomer, only to find a pair of unnatural green glowing orbs that he didn't recognise. He startled, yelling and stumbling back"W-what happened to your eyes?!" He continued to back away until he was pressed against a corner of the vent. He didn't mean to appear so horrified but a part of him was now worried he might have a clone with him instead of the real Coomer. Or he'd been replaced by a robot. Or that he was some kind of monster that might strike him down in these very vents. He wanted to believe otherwise, but the year he had experienced and the events of early had left him on the edge. Anything was possible here.
"A-ah! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you! They uh, they upgraded my eyes to. I… I'm honestly not sure what they did… or why they did it… but it, it's ok! They're the same, just, they just…" Coomer couldn't quite keep up the facade. His first few years at Black Mesa had been uneventful. But then he'd lost a lot of his outside life and become isolated. And they were taking advantage of that. How could he protest when he had nowhere else to go and no one to fight for him? He drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. Everything was fine until he stopped to think about it.
Bubby drew closer, scooting his way over from his corner of the vent to get a better look. He tilted his head, his own eyes shining, before reaching a hand out towards Coomer, resting it on the side of his cheek and gently tipping his head up to get a better view. It took a moment, but soon a gentle, reassuring smile appeared on Bubby's face. Coomer wasn't sure if he'd ever seen him smile quite like that.
"Hey, it's ok, you're right, they are still your eyes… a little different but…" the next part is said in a hushed whisper that left Coomer uncertain if it had actually been said "still beautiful". Before he could comment on it Bubby continued "Sorry for freaking out there. This damn place has got me in a fucking state. The sooner we both get out of this shit, the better. Come on"
Bubby had realised this was no longer just an escape for him. It was for both of them.
Their adventure continued on rather uneventfully until they came across a more open area with a large, thankfully defunct fan. Bubby glanced around, mostly disinterested, though the space did help make him feel a little less claustrophobic. Which is why he didn't initially question why Coomer had stopped there. Still, it was a little odd for him to have stopped suddenly and silently, and upon closer inspection, it became clear that Coomer was crouched down, staring intently at the floor. At least, that's what it looked like. Bubby drew a little closer to investigate and noticed a bunch of fast-moving insects at Coomer's feet.
"Uhhh… why the Hell are you watching cockroaches?" Bubby took a few steps back, concerned there was something dangerous about them.
"Well! We have been crawling around for quite some time now, and I'm not sure how much longer lays ahead of us! This is perhaps not an ideal situation, but bugs can be highly nutritious! Considering the task ahead, it may be worthwhile stopping for a moment for lunch! Can't be much worse than what we've eaten here before!" Coomer snatched one of the cockroaches, holding it firmly between his fingers. He glances around, hoping to find something to start a fire with to try and make it a little more palatable.
Bubby watched the cockroaches skitter about, darting back and forth in chaotic and panicked movements. He found himself mesmerized by their little dance, his eyes locked on to track their every move. If he timed it right he could bring it all to an end, pouncing on them all and snapping them up in a second. Or he could purposefully miss. Land so close to them, forcing them to scatter, only to then leap forward and snatch their escape from their desperate, twitching legs. A hunger opened up within him, urging him to hunt-
"Bubby?"
Coomer's words shattered the weird haze Bubby had fallen into, startling him. He wheezed a little, eyes darting around in confusion as he became fully aware once more. What was that? Why did he-
The hunger is very quickly replaced by his entire stomach dropping away as realisation hits him. He hadn't received his injection today. The file he had recently found made it clear why they were so necessary. To stabilise his human appearance and behaviour. He had rather hoped it was all some bullshit to dissuade him from escaping. The file had been rather conspicuously placed, so easy for him to find, as though they wanted him to stumble across it. It seemed like an attempt to keep him behaving. But that didn't mean it wasn't also true.
Bubby became aware that a soft hand was gently taking his own and squeezing it. Coomer's face was filled with concern as was his voice "Bubby?"
"A-ah, I'm, I'm afraid I'm not feeling very hungry after… earlier." It wasn't a lie, not really. He didn't feel like he could eat anything right now, and the horror of before certainly hadn't worn off. But that wasn't exactly the true reason, was it? Was that wrong?
"Oh… oh of course, of course not. I won't push it if you can't stomach it right now." Coomer reached around to rub Bubby's back in reassurance. "It's ok. Let's carry on" he glanced at the bug in his hand and then swiftly shoved it into his mouth. Hmm. Crunchy. A few moments later he found his hand occupied once more, Bubby's shaking hand finding comfort in his own. He nods and squeezed it gently before walking forward. They'd move forward together.
As the metal corridor they travelled in continued to stretch forward, Bubby's movements began to slow. No matter how hard he tried to forget what had happened earlier, it did happen and it had taken a lot out of him. He was exhausted, though he kept forcing those steps, keeping hold of Coomer's hand to motivate himself. But he soon found that his arm was having to stretch to keep holding on, and his feet were starting to drag along. He ended up stumbling a little, which immediately drew Coomer's attention.
"Bubby? Are you tired? We can rest if you like! Plenty of available energy is absolutely vital for a properly executed escape, so if you are running low, it would be most advisable to stop for a moment!" Coomer had already begun to poke his head out of where a vent grate had been previously before Bubby could even protest or claim that he was fine. "Ah, excellent! It appears we are in a- look, look, an abandoned department! Yes! I do believe this was the astrology department!"
"You… mean astronomy?"
"No, no, the astronomy department is still fully functional! The astrology department was decommissioned after… the incident " Coomer voice grew oddly deeper in that one moment.
"The… the uh, incident?"
" Do not anger the stars- yes! There was a meteor that crashed through the entire department! Of course, it was likely a coincidence, but the study of the subject was halted until they could construct impact-resistant roofing! More of the facility has migrated underground since! Perhaps it would be safe to start up once again… though telescopes do need to view the sky- ah. I apologise, I do believe I am rambling! What matters is that this area is no longer in use and we must be incredibly close to the surface!" Coomer had not long finished his sentence before he was tumbling out of the vent, landing with a soft squeak on the floor. Bubby was concerned for just a moment before he softly chuckled and went to jump down himself. Coomer was waiting, arms outstretched.
"I'll catch you in my big strong arms~" he had a big silly grin on his face. Bubby snorted but willingly jumped down into those arms. Ah. Jumping into arms means you get held… That sure was something. They both were messing around but perhaps this was a little more intense of a moment than either of them expected. Coomer mumbles "Ha, look, I caught you!" trying to keep up the playful attitude, while he lowers himself down so Bubby can hop away before he turns and strides swiftly through a doorway. Bubby followed along into a large, open room.
Star charts covered the walls, dusty and slightly singed in places. There were a few whiteboards, long detached from their frames, some of which had very artistic drawings of the star signs, while others were covered in symbols and calculations that Bubby couldn't make sense of. Maybe that was because at least half of the information had been smudged away. Broken desks and chairs littered the floor, but the main attraction was the giant hole in the middle, which plummeted down through several floors, the bottom of which was not visible. A similarly shaped hole was above, instead of most of the ceiling. It carried on up through several of the rooms, revealing the sky.
They were so close. So close to getting out of this place, to the sky, to running free. So close to houses and plants and no more tubes.
Coomer had found a spot a bit away from the massive pit, that he had begun to clear of debris. A stray chair cushion became the main source of comfort as he settled into the spot, leaning back and inviting Bubby over to join him. Bubby took one last look around, before coming over and being offered a second tattered cushion. It would do for now.
As they lay next to each other, Bubby found himself fiddling with fraying fabric and his own hands. He didn't quite know why he felt so anxious, as his eyes found themselves locking onto Coomer again. Coomer made him feel safe, after all. But he was worried about him… about what he'd seen today and what he'd heard about before. Perhaps he needed to reach out?
"Dr Coomer… I'm. I'm worried-"
"Oh! Well, that is only natural considering the situation, Bubby! You have no reason to be ashamed of such things! You are always welcome to talk with me about your concerns!" Coomer smiled brightly, giving a moment for Bubby to speak.
"No, I… well. Yes, I'm worried about every damn thing going on right now, but I meant I'm worried… about you. About what's been happened to you here. They've… they've taken so much from you. It's pretty fucked up..."
Ah. Coomer's expression falls into a far more serious one. He hadn't expected Bubby to be focused on him with everything else going on. But there was no point in trying to pretend he was fine with it, was there? He took a slow, deep breath and nodded "Indeed… it is rather fucked up. And even when we escape, I have no doubt they will somehow take more from me. But honestly, they can take whatever the Hell they want from me… except you… I will never let them take you from me"
Coomer didn't dare explain the confusing feelings that had begun to develop as he had spent those days with his hand pressed against the tube, waiting for Bubby to emerge. The twisting in his stomach, a mixture of excitement and nerves brewing within him whenever he headed down to Biological Research. Initially, he had assumed it was just due to the combination of stress and suddenly having this new friend in his life. But as the days had passed, it became more and more noticeable. The association with Bubby was glaringly obvious, but what was this feeling? It seemed as though it might be a good one. Happiness? Excitement? Or were his cybernetics playing up? Why did it feel like his heart was going to leap from his chest when he met Bubby's eyes? Why was his pulse racing so much of late? Maybe he'd have to get his cardiovascular system replaced… unless…
When he actually took a moment to sit down and think about it, the answer was so blatantly obvious that he honestly wondered how he ever got his PhD, since apparently, he was a complete idiot. Still, he couldn't criticise himself for long as the understanding slapped him with a wave of embarrassment. His face was burning, which only made him think of Bubby more. A little squeak escaped him as he buried his face in his hands and tried to stop feeling absolutely smitten. God he hoped no one would come into the room at that moment. Considering what he'd had to put up with just for helping out with Bubby, the rumours, Dr Davis offering to "help" him, he didn't want to imagine how bad it would get if anyone did find out he felt that way.
Once he recovered from the overwhelming embarrassment and took a moment to steady his breathing, his eyes had wandered around until they landed on a certain drawer in his desk. He reached down and pulled the divorce papers out, thumbing through them, something he'd been doing far less of late. He hadn't even noticed how little he'd been thinking of his ex-wife of late. How his distress over it all had grown numb, how he found himself thinking more clearly about the whole situation. They never had been right for each other, in the end. This was probably the best for him, though he was still a little bitter over losing so much and what became of her. Made the whole starting a new life thing far more difficult.
"Dr Coomer?"
Dragged from his memories, he looked down towards those eyes that jolted his heart, more so than usual as the glasses had been set aside while he was thinking, allowing him to see their full brilliance. There was an odd little look on Bubby's face. It looked like he was trying to work something out and after a few moments reached his conclusion, his face changed to that of concern. He looked over Coomer as though seeking some kind of answer and perhaps it was just due to the warping of a desperate mind, but it looked like there was a little blush across Bubby's cheeks...
In truth, Coomer wasn't even sure if Bubby could feel that way. He wanted to believe that it was possible. Reviewing all the evidence from their interactions suggested there was a possibility worth investigating… but he did wonder if Black Mesa would have allowed their experiment to be able to feel such things. Then again, knowing Black Mesa, they wouldn't have had any idea on how to suppress such things, since that would probably require some understanding on the subject to begin with. They knew fuck all about Bubby, as far as he was concerned. So maybe, just maybe, it was possible.
Honestly, even if Bubby couldn't feel that way about him, it wouldn't change anything. He'd protect him all the same. So he gave a gentle smile as Bubby continued to look, which seemed to answer something. There was a little gasping breath before a face was pressed into his chest, breathing rapidly.
"Mmm… I feel… strange… around you" those words were whispered, as though Bubby barely dare say them.
Coomer felt a little lump in his throat. He coughed a little before managing to respond "...would you call it a… ah… good type of strange?"
There was a short pause, as Bubby squeezed his lips together and made a little clicking noise with his tongue. Thinking about it. "I… yes, I would. A good strange… fuzzy… warm..."
"Ah. Then… Me too, Bubby, me too" Coomer cautiously reached down to place a hand on Bubby's back, keeping him close.
"But… I… I don't… Dr Coomer…"
"Harold"
"Huh? Who? Where?"
"No, uh, no that's. That's my name. H-Harold. Doesn't really get used around here much these days… perhaps that is for the best but. Maybe. Maybe this is presumptuous of me but, if you, well, wanted to, you could. Use it, when we are alone. If you find it less cumbersome, of course. No requirement, of course, I mean, obviously. Really, uh, perhaps I shouldn't have mentioned it at all, you can just forget about it-"
"Oh my God, Harold"
An odd little shiver passed through Coomer's body and he gulped a bit "Ah, if you don't like it-"
"I like it! I want to use it! Shut up before you work yourself up into a goddamn state you idiot!" As he didn't trust him to stop worrying, he firmly pressed a hand against his mouth. Against those lips… god those intelligence injections had not prepared him for any of this. He knew what the feeling probably was, but denial would creep in every time. Not because he didn't want to feel that way. Not because he didn't like Coomer, no he… he did. But he was afraid. Afraid of rejection, of what he was, of what Coomer would think of that.
But… if anyone could understand, it would be him.
"Dr Co- Ah. Harold. I uh, I need to tell you. Something. Something about me. About what I am"
"What you are? What do you mean?" Coomer tilted his head a little. He wasn't sure what Bubby could be referring too. After all, he knew so much about him already.
"I'm… I'm not, uh. If we leave I. I'm. It's. I can't. There's. If I don't get. I just. I don't want you to have to. If you see. It's not… I'm not like… I am.." he trails off, realising he wasn't going anywhere. He couldn't find the words.
Coomer thinks that he understands, Bubby must have some concerns about being artificially created, about being an experiment. "Bubby, just because you were made in a tube, that doesn't make you any less of a person. I don't fully know what they've done to you, what they say are, but you don't have to explain yourself to me. You are Bubby, and that is all that matters to me"
"But… it's… it'll… I'm…" Bubby could feel the words catching in his throat, tears slowly pooling in his eyes. He wanted to leave but he was so afraid of what might happen to him. Of what might happen to Coomer. If he didn't say it, maybe it wouldn't be real. Maybe it would never come up. He fell silent and just pressed his face into Coomer's shoulder.
"Shh… it's ok. I'm here. I've got you" Perhaps it was a good thing that the majority of the team that was tasked with Bubby's care was already dead. Every second Coomer spent seeing the effects of their treatment towards him made him want to try out some experiments of his own.
Bubby accepted that comfort, knowing he would need it to find the strength to be fully honest. But he would also need time… he just hoped he would have long enough before the changes began-
Footsteps. There were footsteps nearby. Bubby froze up, his eyes fixed on the door. No one was supposed to be up here, right? If someone was… oh no. The footsteps drew closer and the sound of a radio crackle became clear, as did the voice coming through it moments later. Security guard orders and terms and something about searching Unit A-089 for PD8808 and one other target. Bubby began to tremble, no, no, this couldn't be it, he didn't want to die. Earlier he had accepted it, but now, now he saw a future where he got to be a person. And now he saw Harold and he didn't want to ever leave him.
Coomer didn't even hesitate as he moved so his body was shielding Bubby. He knew could take a hit, thanks to all those upgrades. He calmly took out a pistol (Bubby wondered where the Hell that came from but doesn't ask) and aimed steadily at the door. When it began to open and there was a peek of a person, he fires a warning shot. It whistles past a very alarmed looking security guard who immediately ducked down in response and held his hands up.
"WOAH WOAH EASY I'M JUST TRYING TO DO MY JOB MAN, I'M THREE HOURS OVERTIME AT THIS POINT YOU GOTTA HEAR ME OUT"
Coomer didn't falter, keeping his aim directly at the guard's face. His look was stern, angry even. But he didn't take the shot, though his finger remained on the trigger. His voice was uncharacteristically devoid of emotion. "Fine. What do you have to say?"
The guard quickly spat out an explanation, not daring to linger in silence "Ok look, look guys, you gotta understand, I know you know I guard shit and yes, I have a gun, and sure I stop intruders and spies and whatever, right? Except I don't because nothing happens in my department. I haven't had to fire a single fucking shot so far, and you know what? I'm good with that. So just listen for one second." The guard eyes that gun, hoping his pleas would persuade the scientist to lower it. No such luck. Guess he'd have to continue on like this. "Ok. I don't give a fuck about whatever science shit you all get up to, I get my orders, I follow them and then I go home and drink a beer and watch my TV and pay for it all with the money from this disaster job. So let me tell you, my orders say to tell you that you're marked as non-threats and that you're both expected at Biological Research for cloning tomorrow morning, replacements for whatever happened, then you'll be assigned to wherever the fuck. That's it, there's nothing here about getting shot or answering questions, I don't have a clue what the Hell is going on. I've found you, I've told you, I've done my part and I've got a beer waiting for me, so if you could agree to go back to the labs, lower that gun and let me go that would be just swell, thank you very much!"
It takes a moment for Dr Coomer to lower the gun, keeping his eyes focused on the guard’s hands until he feels certain that he isn't about to shoot them. He glances at Bubby, shrugging a little, and gets a nod back in return.
"Fine. I suppose those terms are agreeable… we will return once we've had ample rest… you can at least give us that." he tried to keep the bitterness over not escaping out of his voice. He didn't break eye contact until the guard had awkwardly shuffled out of the room and closed the door. Finally, his expression relaxed, as he let out a little sigh. He wasn't pleased with this outcome, but perhaps it was better than facing the risks that would come with escaping. Bubby himself seemed to be willing to stay, which did strike him as a little odd, but maybe the stress of actually trying to leave had become too much. He just hoped they would use more 'normal' cloning methods on Bubby. He didn't deserve to have to handle that on top of everything.
Bubby was somewhat relieved. His grand ideas of escaping had been crushed by the realisation that he might well be dependent on Black Mesa to stay "normal". But maybe, with more preparation, they could try again? Though he would have to let Coomer know the truth. But he didn't have to tell him now, at least. He would one day soon, yes, if it was necessary or it came up, sure, if he needed help, then absolutely, that would happen. But not now, so there's need to worry about it.
Later. He'd do it later.
The opening in the ceiling now revealed the night sky. Stars slowly started to appear as it became darker and their eyes adjusted. Bubby found himself mesmerized by the little twinkling lights above.
"I want to go there…" he remembered hearing about various space programs that were taking place. Would it possible for him to make it among those stars?
"To space? I'm sure it would be lovely! It really is beautiful! Maybe you could sneak into the astronauts training! Then you could go there in a rocket!"
"Ha! No one could bother me up there!" He grinned, thinking of the peace and quiet, and there aren't any space tubes as far as he knows.
"Yes… yes of… if course… I imagine it would be… rather isolated up there" Coomer couldn't quite keep the disappointment out of his voice. And Bubby picked up on it in an instant.
"Well… maybe not completely… maybe someone… could come with me?"
Coomer finally came to the realisation that despite the lack of danger, Bubby was still leaning on him, his head resting on his chest. His arms remained wrapped around Coomer's body and he was looking up with curious eyes. Hopeful.
"Well… that certainly sounds like quite the adventure! You'll have to steal an extra spacesuit in my size though!"
There's a muffled chuckle as Bubby presses his face against Coomer. "We could start a herb garden up there too!"
"Oh, how wonderful! The first space-based herb garden! Truly our greatest achievement, eh Bubby?"
"Damn right. I can't wait" he grins up at Coomer, before closing his eyes. He could take a moment to rest. Not long of course, just resting his eyes for a little bit. Thinking on things.
Time drifted on as the clouds above floated past, fresh air just about reaching the pair to make it a little easier to doze off. Coomer drifted in and out of consciousness, still somewhat on alert, but finding himself slowly slipping into daydreams. He shook himself awake, wanting to check on Bubby once more. He kept his voice quiet, so as not to unnecessarily disturb him. "Bubby?"
Judging by the slowed breathing and lack of response, it seems as though Coomer was now a bed for one very tired experiment. He couldn't help but smile, after everything, some rest was really quite needed, and he was pleased Bubby had found some. He did look peaceful as he slept, occasionally nuzzling his snuggle buddy and adjusting his grip all while a little smile remained on his face. How Coomer wished his heart didn't sing quite as intensely as it did at each little movement, at all the trust he knew lay there. At least his predicament wouldn't be noticed right now. Even if the feelings were mutual, it was all still rather overwhelming and even just imagining the teasing Bubby would give upon seeing him flustered like this made it flare up more. Because oh, deep down he wanted that. He wanted to feel the heat on his face while Bubby grinned at the sight only to leap forward and plant a kiss on those smug lips and make him the speechless one for once.
Ah. He really has got it bad. He shuffles a bit, trying to find a comfortable position to rest himself without disturbing his companion.
They'd have to go back into Black Mesa soon. Deal with whatever nonsense would be thrown at them for all of this. It would be worth it though. For him. They'd be free one day.