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No matter how many drawers he opened, cabinets, or closets, Caboose could not, for the life of him, find another blanket, or even another pillow or towel, and it was becoming truly disheartening as to just how empty the base was. Unhappy and unsuccessful with his search he padded back through the Blue base and into his increasingly freezing room.
He wore his armor almost constantly nowadays, trying in vain to preserve whatever body heat he produced; though the concept that he expelled body heat when he felt so incredibly cold confused him. His helmet remained off and sitting on his dresser, use of piece of armor proving pointless because of the contrast of the cold air and his warm breath fogging the visor; so as a place-holder he had pulled out one of Tucker’s winter hats (one Caboose may or may not have taken from his teammate a year or two ago). It was teal and black like his armor with loose yarn ends dangling off the ends, and contrasted awkwardly with Caboose’s royal blue; but he liked it, reminded him of what he endearingly referred to as ’The good days.’
Reminiscent aside, Caboose wrapped his arms around himself, tucking his hands under his arms to try and warm his numb fingers as he trekked through the lifeless hallway and back towards his quarters. He was happy enough when he finally returned to his room, one which he had basically been living in for the previous months; the previously plain and unconventional room slowly altered into a one-room house complete with a crudely installed communications console also used as a VCR, stack of freeze-dried packaged rations, and a whole slew of blankets, towels, and pillows layered over the queen-sized bed. Actually a whole base’s worth of blankets, towels, and pillows.
Reflexively he shut the door behind him, indulging in the sense of security it gave him, Caboose then moved to his bed and sat in the circle of blankets he had created for himself, pulling up all manner of blue-colored quilts and one pink one Donut had given him before any of them left Blood Gulch. Once the relative warmth of the blankets soaked into his clammy skin and the feeling returned to his further extremities, Caboose let out a quiet sigh and leaned back against the metal headboard of his bed.
He had things to do, he had so many things to do, including another long talk with Epsilon, but as of late, even those made him feel even more alone, considering the AI did not seem too keen on talking back. He was too-thoroughly-reminded of his basic training days when he was left alone in the barracks when the others went out drinking; he was not a fan of alcohol, and they hadn’t needed a designated driver.
None of them had wanted him along regardless; he was just a stupid kid to them, even if in all reality, they were all just stupid kids.
There were quiet sounds coming from the outside, mostly the thrum of the generators and the natural ambiance; but much like talking to Epsilon, the sounds had become nothing but a meaningless occurrence offering no comfort, nothing to ground him, just something that was there…just like he was.
The tassels of Tucker’s old hat tickled his pale, ashen features, but he could barely feel it, and merely lazily swatted the ends away as he stared mindlessly at the flickering security footage on the monitors at the foot of his bed. It was all he had to do nowadays, rather, all he had to do while he could stay in bed to preserve his body heat. He should be building Church a new body, he should be talking to Epsilon, he should be in the control room trying to repair the heater; but it was truly bleeding cold in there so he was delaying that obligation until he was warm enough to walk there and still have feeling in his fingers.
The cold was affecting his body and constantly left him, not only cold, but exhausted and languid, and he found thinking too hard gave him a terrible headache. Although that later part could easily be attributed to his recent lack of electrolyte intake due to his under stocked kitchen. Caboose was never good at understanding what’s going on, not even with his own body, but even he knew that this constant bone-deep chill could not be good for him.
In his peripheral, Caboose noticed the blinking green numbers on his nightstand alarm clock: 6:47 pm, he contemplated the idea of dinner. Although the nearby dry goods did not seem particularly appealing this night, and the seemingly unattainable ideal of a hot meal became awfully desirable. He sighed, having to remind himself that the gas had not been working either, so there was no stove access, and he had not had a microwave for 4 months after an incident with a can of oil that he definitely did not put in there to warm up to try and make the heater work with.
“Dummy…” He mumbled into the silence of the room, fussing with his hat, pulling it down past his light brown bangs and practically over his eyes. Defeated, and stomach yearning for something he knew he could not have, Caboose slumped down further into his pile of blankets, head sinking against the chilled pillows and drifting off into light sleep within the hour.
_._
It was the comparatively noisy thudding of footsteps that stirred him from his nap about 8:15 pm that same night, his eyes cracked open just the slightest, barely able to see his door being opened past the hem of the hat pulled over the upper half of his face. Despite the bleariness of his vision he easily noted the pink armor entering into his bleakly colored room; normally such a welcomed sight now just added to his headache.
“Caboose?”
Some part of him realized that he had heard that voice calling his name for the past few minutes, but he had not been awake enough to realize it. He shifted just a bit and pushed the hat up his forehead a bit, looking groggily into the yellow visor.
“Hey buddy, where’ve ya’ been?” Donut asked pleasantly, a bit too loud for Caboose’s tastes at the time being. He removed his helmet, short-cut strawberry blonde hair flopping out, and set it on the dresser next to the blue one already there, then moving to sit on the very edge of Caboose’s blanket-draped bed.
Caboose, for all it was worth, wanted to respond, he just really didn’t want to. He gave in when he felt his friend reach over and straighten his messy bangs against his forehead. “ ‘ve been here.” He muscled out, the words slightly muffled by the blankets pulled up around him and against his face.
He vaguely registered the change in emotion playing over Donut’s face from gentle amusement to legitimate concern; he looked around, taking in the sights the room had to offer, and then noticed the white fog that came into existence when he breathed out. The chill finally pierced his armor, and prickled over his exposed features, “Jesus Caboose, it’s freezing in here!” He announced in shock.
Quickly he stood and hurried over to the wall where the thermostat was, “It is no use,” Caboose pointed out, pushing himself up onto his elbows, the blankets slipping off his shoulders and crumpling on his midsection.
Ignoring his friend’s warning, Donut prodded the buttons on the thermostat, twisting the temperature dial, and even prying the plastic cover off to make sure nothing was broken; but nothing he saw would explain why it was not working. “It has not been working since I got moved here…it is very cold.” Caboose explained quietly, pulling his blankets up over his arms again.
Looking more concerned than ever, Donut turned back, “We’ve been here for nearly 8 months, are you telling me you’ve been living without heat this entire time? Why didn’t you tell me?” He was back on the edge of his bed, hand worriedly on the Blue’s arm and the other ushering more blankets over his friend’s form.
“Well you never asked, and I am fine, anyway.” Caboose murmured, offering a calm, but very tired smile.
“Sure, I could’ve at least kept you warm.” In the following silence, before Donut could voice anymore objections, Caboose’s empty stomach rumbled loudly; his pale features flushed slightly after the room was engulfed in silence again, and he pulled the blankets over his face.
Donut chuckled kindly, and moved the blankets just a bit, “Could’ve fed you too, silly. What’re you up for?” He inquired, standing up and folding his arms.
“The stove is not working either. I am fine though, really.” Caboose insisted, but was shushed.
“I’ll go back to my base and cook something, now don’t be stubborn. How does chicken and vegetable soup with a few warm rolls sound to you?” He smiled warmly when Caboose nodded enthusiastically after a few contemplative seconds. After fluffing a few of his friend’s pillows, Donut hurried out the door, incidentally forgetting his helmet in the rush.
_._
“Mmh what’s cookin’? Grif was practically drooling as he walked into the kitchen to the smell of well-seasoned meats and fresh bread assaulting his nose. He took notice of his youngest teammate at the stove with his back to him as he cooked away, “I understand Sarge told me not to stifle your culinary creativity, less I accidentally pressure you into being ’as terrible as I am’, but we did already eat dinner. Why’re ya’ cooking more?”
Donut reached for a jar of pepper and sprinkled it into the pan bubbling up with heating broth, “It’s for Caboose.” He said plainly, obviously distracted by his current objective.
“Caboose?” Simmons repeated confusedly as he stepped into the room mid-conversation, a holo-pad in hand. He stepped over to the abused dining table and set down his reading material, and pulled out a chair for himself, “Why’re you cooking for Caboose? He’s the only guy over there, surely he has enough food.” He pointed out.
Turning around with a steaming fillet in one hand, Donut cocked his hip and looked angry, “Did you know the Blue Base heater hasn’t been turned on for the entire past 8 months? And his gas doesn’t work either so he hasn’t had a decent meal since before then. It’s absurd!” He finished in a huff, returning to the range.
Grif turned to give Simmons an estranged look, “Wow no food, huh?” The concept terrified Grif more than the very real possibility of Sarge just walking in the room and shooting him. “I almost feel kinda bad for the kid.” He admitted.
“Wow that must’ve been hard.” Simmons drawled sarcastically, and his orange-armored friend threw him a dirty look.
Still in a hurry, Donut got out two containers of Tupperware, pouring the soup into the larger and shutting the lid tightly; he threw open the oven and pulled out a loaf of steaming, perfectly browned bread. He set it on the counter, cutting it into5 even pieces and setting those pieces into the smaller, squarer container and then shutting that one.
The two other Reds watched curiously as their teammate hurried back out of the base, clutching the two Tupperware containers to his chest the entire time.
_._
“Here we are.” Donut drawled as he reentered Caboose’s room, nudging the door closed with his foot. He clamped his own mouth closed when he looked over to see the Blue team member sleeping again; not wanting to be so obtrusive, he placed the containers on the bedside dresser and sat on the edge of the bed once again. With one hand he reached up and wiped the brown bangs out of his face as he had earlier, smiling softly when the blue-clad Spartan stirred peacefully.
“Caboose,” Donut whispered, “I’ve got food.” He sing-songed and cracked open one of the containers, allowing the rich smell of chicken and broth to fill the surrounding area. Enticed by the smell of good food, Caboose stretched languidly and pushed himself up to sit against the headboard, a sleepy smile on his face.
The Tupperware filled with soup was pulled over and set gingerly in his lap, along with a spoon, decorated with the Red team logo; but Caboose could care less about the logo, the food smelled far too delicious and he could barely wait until the lid was off to start digging in. The warm broth was mixed with chunks of chicken, boiled carrots, potatoes, and green beans and brought a warm feeling to his frigid insides; almost immediately he felt a rise in energy and wanted to start talking to Donut about what had been going on around the base, and how lonely he’d been, but the food was so good and he did not want to stop eating.
He managed a few words of praise to his friend once he was finished with the soup, barely a sentence before he began to stuff his mouth with the warm, scrumptious smelling bread. Donut rested a hand on his arm, “Slow down hon’, don’t want to choke.” He warned.
It took less than two minutes for Caboose to finish off the pieces of bread, sitting back with a content look on his cold-flushed features. “I take it you liked it?” Donut pondered, and Caboose offered a content nod. He took note of his friend’s bleary olive irises and shook his head adoringly; he was tired, that much was obvious, so Donut took the edges of the blankets and pulled them up just under Caboose’s chin, tucking the edges under him snuggly.
“Donut,” Caboose called quietly when his friend stood and began to pack his things together to leave. Donut stopped and turned to look down at the other Spartan, quirking his head and waiting for the other to speak. Looking a bit embarrassed, the younger man un-tucked his blankets and starred up at Donut with bright, pleading eyes. “Could you – if it’s alright – stay here…with me tonight?” His cheeks and ears appeared a bit more colored, “I get lonely.” He mumbled out, wringing his hands together.
After a moment, a soft smile engulfed Donut’s features and he nodded, “I understand why you would feel that way,” He said as he slid under the covers with the Blue, who eagerly grabbed him around the waist and pressed his face into the crook of his neck. Donut smiled, welcoming the closeness, putting an arm possessively around Caboose’s shoulders; the smaller form curled against him, making him feel strangely protective and much like he assumed a mother bear felt with her cubs.
And if he thought about it, Caboose did rather resemble a cuddly bear cub when he wanted to.
“I miss them a lot…” Caboose mumbled, the words muffled against Donut’s shoulder. The older man looked down, making a small sound of acknowledgement. “Church, Tucker, and Agent Washington, and especially Sheila,” He shifted a bit, pressing more against Donut’s side. “Church would tell me stories when I couldn’t sleep,” He began, his voice quiet and a bit shaky. “And Tucker would stay in my room with us, sometimes I dozed off leaning against him, usually he would yell at me for it…but sometimes he would fall asleep too.” Donut could not see his face, but he could tell Caboose was smiling, it was in the tone of his voice and the little giggle that worked its way out.
“And it was great when Agent Washington was around; he had stories too, and he loved to tell me about them, and the things he knew that I honestly did not really understand, but liked to hear anyway.” Every word was like a continuation of one long sentence when it came to Caboose, but Donut only smiled, listening quietly to his younger friend’s exhausted ramblings. It was endearing, everything he had to say about everyone else; not a single bad word to say about anyone, well, almost not a single bad word.
There was a stretch of time where Donut didn’t hear anything other than the sound of them both breathing quietly and the occasional shuffle of blankets when one of them shifted positions. He gently ran his fingers through Caboose’s chocolate brown hair, too concerned that moving around too much would stir his sleeping companion.
“I really miss them.” Caboose mumbled, apparently not asleep.
“Your team?”
“Yeah, I hope they’re okay. I mean…I did not understand where Church went, even though Agent Washington told me, but I hope he is alright, and that he is with Tex, and they are happy together; and maybe, Tucker is there too…”
An odd lump formed in Donut’s throat and he subconsciously tightened his grip around the younger man’s form, “You make it sound like they’re dead.” He said, trying to reassure Caboose of something he was not even sure was true.
“Maybe they are, I am not really sure.”
“You should stay positive…”
“I hope they’re not.” His voice was broken sounding as he curled up tighter, clutching the pink armor and pulling him closer.
Donut mumbled something else comforting under his breath, but Caboose had already begun to drift off, the sounds around him becoming nothing more than just that: sounds. No tangible words or sentences, or even syllables. The low lighting of his room began to drift out of his field of vision as his eyes slowly closed shut and he concentrated on breathing evenly and breathing in the familiar scent of his friend; armor polish and another scent he could not exactly peg but forever connected to Donut.
It was odd - he knew that much - that he found such comfort in such an oddity, but after feeling so alone for 8 months, he did not think too much on it. He felt Donut lean down and kiss the crown of his head so softly he barley felt it. It reminded him of his team, of Church and Tucker, only with a bit less shouting; he honestly hoped they were okay; it was hard running a base alone. Not to mention lonely running a base alone.
It was nice to have someone else so close, and he reminded himself to thank Donut for the company whenever he woke up.