Chapter Text
‘Come to Chicago early’ Neal thought bitterly as he struggled through the busy New York airport, reflecting on what his buddies from there had said. ‘We can celebrate turkey day together.’
He’d been planning on uprooting from New York to Chicago for a fresh start after the holiday, and frankly he would've been better off sticking to that plan. It was 'the place to be' around thanksgiving, or so they say. Truth be told he’d gotten sick of the whole shebang and he was leaving for a reason, though now he was starting to think it might’ve been better just to lay low instead instead of buying a ticket practically last minute (last minute for a thanksgiving flight anyway.)
But here he was, in a crowding airport waiting for a delayed flight siting across from some fat ass schmuck reading a ratty paperback.
He looked around, nervously fidgeting scanning the walls. “Know if we’re allowed to smoke in here?” He blurted out.
The man looked up with concern and he felt a pang of regret for secretly insulting him. He looked nice, the sort you wanted to have a beer with and talk about your problems. “Beg your pardon?”
Neal mimed smoking a cigarette. “Smoking, do you think it’s allowed? I never know these days.”
“I’d say not.” The man said, glancing around himself. “Though I’m not sure-”
“Aw, it’s all right, been trying to quit anyway, but every now and again I’ll get a craving I can’t shake.”
“I feel you there, my wife Marie’s been trying to get me to quit. Given how it’s bad for you and all.”
“It ain’t fair is it? I mean one second it’s fashionable and the next you just learn it was a big ol’ trick and your stuck with the habit.” Neal said, hopping to his feet. “Christ, I’m gonna find a smoking area before I go out of my gourd.”
“Uh...nice talkin’ to you I guess.” Neal called after him.
It turned out the man was on the same flight, a couple rows down from him and talking the ear off of the some business man next to him about his job selling shower curtains or something. Would hate to be that guy. He thought, but didn't think he really meant it. Honestly he was feeling a bit out of place and it didn't seem like the end of the world to be able to talk to someone, even if he was a chatter box.
---
“And that’s all you have, a double?” Neal said, wincing for the sake of his wallet as he talked to a very old sounding woman from the local motel 6. “…You sure you don't have anything smaller? I’m just one guy after all.”
Christ, He was too tired for this. “Fine, I suppose that’ll do.”
He sighed as he hung up the phone. Fantastic, just what he needed, Thanksgiving alone in some crummy city in a crummy room he was paying too much for.
“This is the Braidwood? Yeah, hey Gus, this is Del Griffith.”
Neal looked over at the phone booth next to him, the man who from earlier catching his attention. He seemed like a decent guy, and he couldn’t help but feel bad at the prospect of him being stuck here too, not to mention away from his wife.
Perhaps that's why when he hung up the phone, Neal found himself piping up: “…That’s not a good bet.”
“What?” Del said, confusedly.
Neal was about to elaborate when a man behind him elbowed him away in attempt to get to the phone.
“Didn’t your Ma ever teach you manners?” He snapped at him before walking away walked to a less crowded area, ‘Del’ following close behind him.
“Excuse me for being blunt, I just remember you from when we talked briefly back in New York.”
“Yeah, I remember that. What were you saying about the Braidwood Inn though?”
“I had a friend who got robbed while staying there.” Neal continued. “Some hooligan broke into their room while they were sleeping.”
He'd never heard of the Braidwood Inn, let alone whether or not that was true, but it was the first lie that came to mind.
Del laughed dismissively. “Well I know the guy who runs the place, he’s real nice.”
“Oh I’m sure he is, wasn’t saying he was the one who’s doin’ it.” Neal said.
“Not really a lot I can do about it, no doubt every other place is booked by now.” Del said slowly, as if he knew Neal was getting to something.
“Well I managed to get a room at a motel 6, seeing as I hate to see a decent guy such as yourself get screwed over I’d be willing to share and split the costs. You might not get your own room but at least you’ll get your own bed.”
“Really?”
“Hey, I tried to get them to downgrade me, but it was all they had.” Neal said with sincerity.
“So you’re just trying to save a couple of bucks.” Del said skeptically, and Neal scoffed. Damn it, this guy caught on quick.
“Look I just figured you were looking forward to going home to your wife, and now you’re gonna be stuck here? I thought ‘hey, at the very least I could warn this guy and save him another grievance.’ Maybe that sounds a little absurd, but given the circumstance…” He shrugged his shoulders, annoyed. “...So what if I’m trying to save some dough? But you wanna stay at your Bravewood Inn, have at it."
He started to storm off but Del quickly stopped him.
"Whoa whoa, lets not be hasty, I didn't say no. I could save some money myself." Del said quickly with a sheepish smile. “Can I get a name though? I think you neglected to introduce yourself.”
“Uh, it’s Neal. Neal Page.” He pointed at Del, shooting him an unsure smile. “Del…Griffin right?”
“Close, it’s Griffith.” He said, chuckling.
---
“So what about you, what are you coming home to?” Del asked they lugged his steamer trunk to the room. "You got family? Kids?"
"First off: who knows if they have kids or not." Neal said uncomfortably. "You know? I've always been careful but who knows, maybe someone didn't tell me-"
"I'll take that as a no." Del said, quickly interrupting what sounded like the start of a long rant.
“But as far as what I'm coming home to I’m not so much going home as uh…moving on.” Neal said. “Was tired of New York, thought I’d relocate. A buddy of mine put in a good word of for me at this tire and lube place he works at and I’ve got an interview for that next week. He even invited me over for Thanksgiving but well…you know have well that’s working out.”
“I wouldn’t have pegged you for the grease monkey type.” Del commented jokingly. They set the trunk down with a mighty wump, Neal giving him a critical look at that. “I-I mean, you’re so nice looking. Then again that was before you opened your mouth, so who knows."
Neal sneered with contempt. “It’s just a starter job. Keep that mullah flowing in so I can uh…keep lookin’ nice. Now if you excuse me, I'm gonna go grab the rest of my luggage."
He stepped back out into the cold to grab his two matching dark red Samsonite suitcases containing everything he cared to keep to his name, the rest of his worldly possessions he'd deemed replaceable or just not worth the trouble of dragging all the way to Chicago.
He gazed across the darkened icy parking lot at other misplaced travelers and felt a pang of guilt at snapping at Del for comments that were no doubt only meant in jest, comments he was defensive of thanks to his own insecurities.
“I didn’t mean to offend-“ Del started when he came back in with the two suitcases, but Neal waved it off.
“It's nothing.” He insisted said as he wrangled together some toiletries from his leather carry-on bag, which aside from things frequently used travel items it held thing he didn't want to give to plane company a chance to lose, such as paperwork and a large envelope filled with photos he quickly closed his bag upon glancing at, not wanting to think about the history it held right now.
He jerked his thumb towards the bathroom. “I’m gonna take a shower…unless you wanted to go in first?”
“Hey, It’s you’re room.” Del said quickly, wincing to himself when he was alone.
---
Later when they were both in bed and watching TV Neal looked over to the picture on the nightstand between their beds commenting: “...She’s pretty.”
“What?” Del said.
“You’re wife. I think you said her name was Marie, right?”
Del laughed, almost guardedly. “…Not entirely sure how I got a gal like her. I always fall apart around woman.”
“Well you’re the type of guy woman want to end up with. Good looking, someone that makes them feel safe... loved, you know?” As an afterthought he added. “…That’s what I hear I mean.”
Del laughed nervously at that. “Right, of course.”
“Just what I hear.” Neal repeated distantly.
“Look, about what I said before, I wasn’t saying you weren’t nice-“
“Well, I’m really not.” Neal admitted with dismay. "To tell you the truth I'm a bit rotten."
“No…I meant to say you're not as much of a stuck up tight ass as I thought.”
Neal had smile at that, shrugging. “Well, I can live with that. I suppose I used to be, but things happen, people change. I know, like they say... ‘people don’t change’ ...but I think they do, usually for the worse.”
"I don't know, you seem alright." Del insisted, and Neal scoffed dismissively.
"That's very nice of you to say, but you really don't know me." Christ, this was getting too personal he should change the subject. “So…what did you say you did for a living, sell shower supplies or something?”
“Shower curtain rings, I’m basically something of a salesman.”
“You must be one hellva salesman.” Neal said. “I mean, couldn’t they just go to their local Kmart or something and pick a set up?”
“Well, I do offer a variety of colors to match whatever décor the motel may have.” Del said, looking a little proud. “But as my wife always says, I could sell stink to a skunk.”
Neal chuckled at that. “Well you have the face for it, mainly because you don’t. People won’t know what hit ‘em.”
Not knowing how to respond to that, Del asked: “You’re not so bad looking yourself, for a guy anyway… you ever been married?”
Neal cackled at the thought. "Oh god...almost once, there was this gal name Susan I had this on again off again thing with for years, I always assumed we'd make it but it never panned out. Aside from her I've never been good with that sort of thing, I'll be good for five or so months before it goes to hell."
“Jesus, I really don’t miss the dating scene.” Del said with a chuckle. “Glad to be done with it.”
“Well, you’re a lucky guy.”
To Neal’s dismay Del didn’t react with the bashful smile he'd been expecting but a strained parody of it. Shit…
“Though I gotta say, it is fun while it lasts. For instance there’s this gorgeous Italian chick named Gina that I might have a good chance with in Chicago. Met her last time I was there, she gave me her number. ‘Call me if you’re ever back in town.’ She said.” He said in a feminine Italian American accent.
It was a bit of gamble, though he said it partially because he wasn’t too keen on the way he was starting to feel when Del smiled, let alone how disappointed he felt when he didn't.
But thankfully it elicited a laugh from Del. “You sir are horrible.” He said.
Neal tusked, and not dropping the voice, clasping his hand to an imaginary bosom answered: “Oh, but you know you love it.” He quickly cleared his throat, and said in his normal voice: “…I mean, that what she would say.”
“Yeah, I uh…I got that.” Del said, sounding equally uncomfortable.