Chapter Text
We got these tickets from Fargo. I guess they’re amusement park tickets.
Wrench hopped up quickly from his seat on the couch. He snatched them rather aggressively from Numbers’ hands while his partner stared at him incredulously. What the fuck man? But the taller man didn’t notice Numbers’ hands signing for his attention. Wrench read the tickets from front to back, his eyes wide and nearly popping out of his head. Numbers waved his hand in front of Wrench’s face.
Dude. What are you doing?
These are for Cedar Point. I’ve seen this place on TV and read about it the last time we were in Ohio.
So? Numbers shrugged, reaching for the tickets.
It’s one of the best in the country! Wrench pointed out, keeping the tickets away from Numbers’ hands.
Yeah, okay. So? I mean we’re probably not going anyway.
Wrench let out one of the saddest noises that Numbers thought he’d ever heard anyone make. He wasn’t even aware his partner had an interest in those places.
We HAVE to go. Have to. Please. I will go without you if I have to, Wrench begged, his eyes tracing Numbers’ face as he plead to his partner.
Then go without me, Numbers replied simply, shrugging his shoulders at the entire idea. Amusement parks were not his thing. Probably. He’d only ever been once, when he was ten years old. The memory was laced with horrific smells of funnel cake, awful screaming, and the extremely uncomfortable sensation of trying to swallow his own puke on every ride he was forced on. The worst was the last ride he’d been shoved onto; a roller coaster that made him piss himself in horror. If Numbers thought about it enough, he could still recall how hot the sun was on his face as he burned and endured the harsh teasing of his siblings for the rest of the trip.
Numbers knew it was a bit unfair to hold this against all other theme parks. This one had been particularly shitty and was shut down only six months after his family had visited. But it was an experience that stuck with him through life and would occasionally make him smolder with embarrassment; one that he was more than ready to forget and never have to relive.
In hindsight, he wished he would have thrown away the passes on the way home. He should have guessed that adrenaline addicted Wrench would be into adrenaline inducing rides.
It won’t be as fun without you, Wrench’s face began to twist into a slight pout.
Trust me. It’ll be ten times better without me.
Why? Are you afraid of roller coasters? Wrench waggled his eyebrows at his partner, debating whether or not this was actually the truth.
When Numbers clenched his jaw a little, Wrench knew he’d hit the bullseye.
I don’t know, the smaller hit man replied. It was only a half lie. How could he actually be certain that he was afraid of them if the only one he’d been on was many, many years ago and probably blown way out of proportion?
I’ve only been on one.
Then you don’t even know, Wrench decided for him. Come on. The tickets were free. Fargo wants us to go. It’d be such a waste.
No way man. I don’t like carnival food and I hate crowds. It sounds awful enough without throwing roller coasters in the picture. Numbers grimaced as the recollection memory of corndogs and turkey legs hit him full force. He almost felt nauseous.
So you are afraid of them then? Wrench singled out the tiny hidden words underneath Numbers’ complaint with a smirk. Numbers hated when he did that. He always did that.
Numbers scowled at his partner. I was on one. And that was one too many.
How old were you? Wrench signed, the smirk growing wider on his face.
I don’t know. A kid. Like ten.
So you’re making a mountain out of a molehill like always. Wrench’s smirk grew another inch and curved upward into a full, sickening grin as he teased his partner. Numbers burned with anger all over.
You’re such a prick. Why do you always have to make fun of me, man?
I’m not making fun of you, Wrench shrugged, but the grin that made Numbers want to knock his partner’s teeth out remained plastered on his face. You’re just overly sensitive.
I am not. Numbers knew that was a stretch. He was aware, all too aware, that he was overly sensitive. But it wasn’t something he could just turn on and off; wasn’t a switch he could just flip. He tried so many times to learn how, but nothing worked. Instead, he tried to learn to live with his sensitivity like an unwanted roommate; tried to keep it from stabbing someone every time he felt like he was being insulted. How Wrench had managed to avoid being shot so far, was beyond anyone. Himself included.
Look. You can bring your camera. And we’ll go on a Thursday or something so it’ll be less busy. I bet you could get some pretty cool shots, Wrench offered, trying to make Numbers think about the benefits of a trip.
Sighing, Numbers shuffled his feet and looked away from his partner for a moment before rubbing his palm down his beard. I don’t know man. He didn’t want to go. He really didn’t.
Please. I promise it’ll be fun, Wrench looked absolutely crushed by the hesitant face Numbers made. Wrench wanted so badly to show his partner a good time and to go and make memories with him and to be able to laugh and tease the smaller man. He wanted to have fun with his partner that didn’t explicitly involve dropping bodies or hunting people down; wanted to be a normal person on a normal date for once. Even just for a day.
I really want us to go, he added as his face melted into the most heartbreaking look that rivaled that of a begging dog.
Numbers bit his lip and looked away from those awful, perfectly pitiful eyes. No. He knew Wrench was doing the one thing that allowed him to pick what they were going to eat for dinner, or who had to drive first thing in the morning. Those normally joking or overly serious green eyes seemed to swell in size as Wrench’s eyebrows arched slowly upward. It wasn’t fucking right. It really just wasn’t. Even if Numbers imitated the face down to the smallest little feature, he’d never look anywhere near as pathetic as Wrench did when he wanted something bad enough. If he said no now, Numbers was sure that it would only get worse, somehow.
As Numbers heaved a huge sigh, he tried to remember the last time he actually got his way.
I don’t know, Wrench. What if we get a case? Numbers attempted to try and talk Wrench down without explicitly saying no.
Take the fucking time off. It’s not like we get paid for it, Wrench argued.
I’ve got other things I need to do, and could do with the time off. Plus I don’t need to be planning a trip to Buttfuck, Ohio, Numbers tried a different angle when the other failed.
I’ll plan the whole thing. I promise. All you’ll have to do is pack the night before we go. I swear. Numbers knew Wrench was winning the argument with his reasons and it made him feel exceptionally hot in the cool house. He hated to lose and he definitely didn’t want to lose this one.
But Wrench really seemed like he wanted this. Numbers was unsure as to why his partner was even that interested aside from the thrill factor. Couldn’t they just go see a movie if a date was what he was after? Or dinner? Numbers knew he wasn’t the best about taking his partner out, and all that shit that kept him from keeping a girlfriend before he met Wrench. But most of the time, Wrench wasn’t particularly interested in all that anyway, it seemed. He was very low maintenance; one of the things among many that Numbers loved about him. As long as he got attention at least twice a day, the man appeared to be fine being left mostly alone to his own devices.
With the world’s loudest, most dramatic groan, that Wrench swore he, himself, could hear, Numbers finally, but reluctantly agreed.
Fine! Fine. But you take care of everything, he conceded, pushing away from the attempted hug his colossal partner was coming at him with. And stop fucking looking at me like a kicked puppy.
Wrench’s whole being radiated with excitement and happiness as he forced Numbers to accept the body crushing hug. Numbers struggled and pushed at his wall of a chest.
“Get off me you fucking bear!”
Wrench relented and grinned down at the smaller man who looked effectively pissed as he puffed up and smoothed out his hair. I’ll swear I’ll take care of everything. You won’t have to do anything.
Number could only believe that that was an empty promise, but it was too late now. Oh, really? Cause I have to call Fargo.
Still grinning, Wrench rubbed at his sideburns and shrugged. Oh, well, besides that. I mean. If you really want me to I can, but he’s going to be pretty pissed off. Nobody likes relay services.
A smile cracked the tightly locked lips on Numbers’ face in spite of himself. It was true. Relay services could be the absolute worst sometimes. Alright, you get the hotel and come to me when you figure out the dates and I’ll make the call, Numbers told Wrench, trying to put his brooding and authoritative face back in place. Turning to leave, Numbers felt his body being trapped in place once more by strong arms that wrapped around him. However this time, there was something gentle and grateful in the way they embraced him. Numbers found himself slightly leaning into the hug.
A hand was brought up in front of Numbers’ face; fingertips briefly brushed his lips before being pulled away, straight and forward. Numbers recognized the sign immediately. Wrench was saying thank you.
An elbow jammed gently into Wrench’s ribs. You’re a fucking loser, sometimes. Get off me.
Wrench grinned at his partner as the man walked away from him, leaving him the living room to get started on dinner. As Numbers turned the corner into the kitchen, Wrench could barely make out the faintest trace of a smile on his partner’s lips.
Heading into the bedroom, Wrench snatched the laptop off of the coffee table. He set it down on the bed, sprawling comfortably out on top of the comforter as he began to search for hotels. He wanted to make this trip as perfect as he could for Numbers, otherwise the small man would end up complaining for the next four months at least.
A week passed by quietly and with no signs of a case. After dinner on a Tuesday, Wrench approached his partner with a date.
For what? Numbers signed as he looked down at the paper that had five consecutive days written on it. The look on the smaller man’s face told Wrench that Numbers was hoping his partner had forgotten all about the silly, little trip. Crossing his arms over his chest, Wrench stared at his partner’s open mouth preparing to protest.
Save it, he signed as Numbers starts to prattle off signs and spoken words that Wrench pays zero attention to. I’ve already got everything booked and ready.
Numbers tried to argue, hands flying that Fargo might not even let them take the time off, but Wrench caught Numbers’ hands mid-sign, holding them still for nearly a minute. He stared into Numbers’ eyes, watching resolve crumble. Releasing Numbers’ hands, he shoved the printed information into them. A smile replaced the intimidating look on the large hit man’s face while Numbers looked over the paper. The hotel Wrench found was nice enough; a real hotel. The dates were not particularly bad, and his partner had even printed out a few places to eat and visit if Numbers wanted to try them out.
So maybe Numbers was a little impressed Wrench had gone to all the trouble, but it’s squashed down by a vague nauseated feeling that crept up into his stomach as he leafed through the images of the place he was being forced to go.
So will you call Fargo tomorrow? Wrench finally broke Numbers’ memory laden stupor.
Yeah, I guess, Numbers grimaced, handing back all the papers except the copy of the dates.
Don’t pretend like you forgot.
Numbers scowled. I wasn’t going to.
And don’t try to lie to me by telling me we didn’t get the time off, either. You know I’ll find out.
“Jesus fucking Chris!”Numbers shouted, shoving the paper into his pocket rather obnoxiously. I’ll call him tomorrow, okay?
Wrench nodded and smirked down at his flustered partner.
Go get some milk from the store. We need it to make dinner, Numbers demanded, his hands balling into fists when they dropped to his sides.
Don’t pout, Wrench smirked. You better not be all pissy and brooding when I get back.
Numbers sneered Wrench out of the room, rolling his eyes at the racket Wrench makes while putting on his shoes.
The call to Fargo went much smoother than Numbers ever thought it could. Oddly, the head of the syndicate seemed to be very generous about granting the two of them the unpaid time off. He can’t understand why; perhaps the man knew how much it would get under Numbers’ skin? Or maybe he just felt charitable as cash flowed freely and business ran smoother than ever.
With his last life raft popped in his face, his hope drowns and the smaller hit man resigned to the trip.
So what’s the deal? Can we go? Wrench asked between forkfuls of mashed potatoes during dinner.
Glancing up from his plate, Numbers furrowed his brow. What? Oh. Right, yeah. Fargo gave us the time off, he signed nonchalantly. The man placed a small bite of salad meticulously in his mouth as Wrench began to crack a smile.
Really? The large hit man seemed to glow from head to toe when Numbers nodded at him.
Yeah, really. Numbers rolled his eyes and returned his attention back to his food. For the rest of the meal, Wrench’s smile never left his lips, even as he chewed his food.
The night before their trip came way too soon for Numbers’ personal comfort. Even if it was years from now, Numbers was sure that would still be too soon. Wrench seemed to have already been packed for days, but even so, the man flitted around the room, collecting things Numbers asked for or helping to fold heavily pondered over outfits without even teasing Numbers once. Somehow, just the presence of his partner was enough to soothe some of his jumbled nerves; though the genuine niceness was definitely a big bonus.
Watching his partner lumber around the room as he looked for a particular item or his gigantic hands delicately fold Numbers clothing into perfect little squares was just what Numbers needed to keep his foul mood at bay. For a moment Numbers was consumed with the intense desire to stop those hands from working and feel them wrapped around his own; feel the heat of them warm his constantly cold fingers. Shaking it off as well as he could, Numbers went back to focusing on packing his bag. Once everything seemed to be put away in an orderly fashion, Numbers checked the charge on the camera’s batteries, before packing it securely and carefully between a soft layer of clothing.
Climbing into bed with his partner, nerves and reluctance ran rampant through Numbers as he curled up beside the man. Wrench could read it all behind the mask Numbers put on; glued on to save his pride at all costs. For a moment, Wrench left Numbers alone to his racing thoughts before finally pulling him close against his chest. They rearranged their positions easily as though this was the way they were made to be.
Like the earth slowly revolving around the sun, they moved around each other naturally. And just like the earth, Numbers desperately needed his sun to keep him warm and alive; even when he got burned.
When he first realized he was falling hard, his irrationality screamed that he was becoming too attached; too codependent. Emotions, trust, and codependency were all things that made Numbers extremely uncomfortable. They were things he was absolutely afraid of. Being bound to someone in the way he had been heading with his young partner induced anxiety in him that oddly enough, only his partner could quell.
It was a vicious circle he had found himself stuck in. Being with Wrench had caused emotions and attractions that he so desperately craved. His irrationality and fear struck him sick with doubt and resentment just from the mere thought of desiring those things. Numbers’ desire soon grew to a burning need for them.
And like he always seemed to have been, Wrench was one step ahead of his conflicted partner; soothing it all away, one way or another. Which in the end only put Numbers back at the start of the circle of doubt and love that he was running laps around.
It was extremely difficult to put it all behind him and take the leap of faith he knew his partner was waiting for him to make; trust that his caring for Wrench would be worth the weakness it would no doubt bring to them both. But with that inevitable weakness, the bond they formed brought an even greater strength with it that knocked Numbers straight on his ass.
Faith lead to trust, and trust to love. Love brought a snarling, vicious monster that would do anything for Wrench; do anything to keep him safe. And he knew that Wrench had his own fiercely loyal and dangerous beast that dwelt quietly, but never fully asleep.
For the very first time, Numbers knew what it really meant to fully love someone with his whole heart; understood what love really meant. He knew what if felt like to feel completely safe in someone’s arms. The feelings were warm and inviting and unexplainable. They made him insurmountably happy; more than anything in the world ever could.
Wrench was his rock when Numbers needed something to hold onto, his home when he needed something to comfort him, and above all, the sun that burned him with love so beautifully hot that nothing could or would ever compare or hold up.
Fingers rubbed soothing circles over Numbers’ skin and slowly his eyelids began to grow heavy as exhaustion took over him. Numbers was surprised to find himself falling asleep before his partner, but he supposed that as nervous as he felt, Wrench must feel doubly excited. A hand smoothed back Numbers’ hair and lips pressed to his temple, coaxing Numbers to let go of his stubborn hold on consciousness. The gesture made the smaller man shift closer to Wrench and within minutes, his chest began to rise and fall rhythmically as Numbers fell asleep. Little vibrations buzzed under Wrench’s hand as Numbers started to snore quietly. Grinning, Wrench pressed another gentle, slow kiss to his partner. He can never get over how stubborn Numbers could look while sleeping. His eyebrows were still scrunched together, his lips parted a little as if he were about to say something dignified. Only on rare occasions where Numbers was sleeping deeply did his face take on a peaceful look. The smaller man’s hair would be all mused in different directions as he drooled a little in his beard with the most contented look on his face. It was a rare sight that Wrench never wanted to miss.
The excitement gnawed at Wrench until nearly an hour later. The comforting motions of his sleeping partner drawn to his chest gradually helped the younger man unwind a little, lulling him to sleep.
The world was still mostly dark when Wrench felt his shoulder being rapidly shaken to wake him. A hand slapped down on his chest.
Last time I’m going to try and wake you up before I go back to sleep, asshole, Numbers signed grumpily as Wrench blinked the sleep out of his eyes.
Did you make breakfast? He signed back as he lazily pushed himself up, swinging long legs over the side of the bed.
Fuck no I didn’t make breakfast. I’m not your mom. If you want breakfast go eat a goddamn bowl of cereal.
Wrench grumbled a little as he stood up. You always make breakfast if we have to leave early.
Yeah. On a job. This isn’t a job.
Wrench ignored Numbers as he stretched out his back. Yawning loudly, he shuffled past Numbers indolently, heading towards the bathroom. He stopped in front of his partner as the older man stared him down.
What? Numbers signed in annoyance.
It’s too early to be this irritated, Wrench thought to himself. He knew how to calm Numbers down, but instead, he found himself reaching out a hand. Numbers stared at it for a moment before Wrench caught the unmistakable look of momentary, knowledgeable horror flash a fraction of a second too late in Numbers’ eyes. Long fingers dug into Numbers’ perfectly done hair and shake the strands violently out of place as Wrench ruffled his partner’s hair. Numbers made a very loud, disgruntled noise that passed unheard by the only person it was intended for. He was sure the whole entire apartment building heard him.
As quick as Numbers could manage, he heaved the gigantic arm away from his hair. Using the wall of the man to push off of, Numbers made a hasty b-line for the bathroom, cheeks furiously burning. It took him half an hour to fix it this morning. He growled in frustration as he caught his reflection in the mirror; the loud laughing he could hear all the way from the kitchen only made it ten times worse.
Wrench packed up the car after a bowl of cereal, knowing it would take a while for Numbers to fix his hair. When Numbers finally came outside, making his way to the car, Wrench was still snickering. There was a single strand of hair that seemed to not want to go back in place and Wrench knew it would bug Numbers for the rest of his life. Tempted to ruin it once more, Wrench’s fingers twitched as he held back the urge. It was a difficult fight. He wanted to see the same look on Numbers’ face as before; the look of horror and rage and extreme frustration over how much he loved his partner and why. All those emotions danced across the small man’s face in less than twenty seconds just before Numbers would blow up with a wrath that would make the devil tuck his tail.
But it was always worth it. The bitching and stony stares are worth all the endless amusement and adoration it provided Wrench.
Fuck you asshole. You get to drive first, now.
Wrench anticipated this and willingly accepted the keys from Numbers. I was trying to fix it for you, he signed with a slight snigger. You ruined it again, here let me help you. He lifted his hand jokingly towards his partner. Numbers jumped back immediately, completely unwilling to take the risk.
Get the fuck away from me! he signed as he vaulted himself into the car as if Wrench was attempting to rub bird shit on him instead of just ruffle his hair a little. Numbers threw the seatbelt over his body and smashed himself against the car door, trying to put as much space between himself and his partner as Wrench climbed into the car beside him.
You’re such a child, Wrench snorted, starting up the engine when Numbers refused to acknowledge his existence. The roads were nearly empty as Wrench pulled out of the complex and headed towards the highway. The sun began to peek out from the horizon as Wrench merged onto I-80 and headed east towards Ohio. Respecting Numbers’ wishes, Wrench only sped a little as they made their way down the mostly empty intestate.