Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Gordon was used to making bad decisions.

As far as he was concerned, his life was nothing but a series of those continued bad decisions. There were pauses here and there, small periods of good times and clear thought. But, for the most part, everything Gordon had done in his life he’d either just let happen or actively come to regret.

Years ago, Gordon regretted little things like letting himself be dragged to an overly loud and touchy college party when he knew practically no one there. Then there were other, bigger things; such as the relationship he had spent most of his early twenties in, the phase he went through where he was too depressed to talk to any of his family or friends, the decision to chase his own dreams despite the fact that he may fail.

These were all events that had felt so huge in the moment. But they were still simple, normal things. Things that most people ended up doing and then regretting in their lives. That’s how it worked; you fucked up, you kept going.

Looking back, every single one paled in comparison to what Gordon regretted now.

But for today, he decided to start small. Today, Gordon regretted waking up.

It’s not like he had much of a choice, what with the incessant beeping of his alarm and the growing headache that spawned after way too many hours spent in bed. The fact that it’d also been a questionable amount of time since he made the effort to do simple tasks like drink water and brush his hair certainly weren’t helping.

These days, Gordon didn’t have the energy to do much besides exist. He had spent time surviving, and though his life had always been boring, it could be argued that he had spent time living, too. Before everything, he had ambition, hopes, plans, dreams. These days, Gordon was tired.

It had been nearly two weeks since the Black Mesa incident. Life had come to a screeching halt, the facility erased from public knowledge. Not that there had been much that was allowed through the company’s strict grasp to begin with, but the hefty check Gordon had received a few days ago said more than words ever could. He knew better than to speak about what had happened.

Not that he wanted to. Still, he was alive. And Joshua was safe, unaware of the hell his father had gone through—he stayed with his mother through the school year, and Gordon had let on nothing about the events that had transpired; his distance from her was not out of character. His son was safe, and the money was enough to pay bills, buy groceries, and keep him alive for the foreseeable future.

It was also enough to offer his friends some sort of payment for the personally designed prosthetic hand now attached to his arm, though Coomer argued so hard against taking Gordon’s money that it had caused a debate between the two of them that had lasted at least an hour. The only reason it had come to an end was because of Bubby threatening to set them both on fire. The scientist had then grinned, claimed credit for the initial design, and promptly disappeared to god-knows-where with the entire stack of bills.

With some effort, Gordon managed to stretch out his arm far enough to grasp his still beeping phone. He groaned as he brought it closer to his face, screen blindingly bright in the hazy darkness of his room. The clock read just past six, which meant he’d slept through the entire day. Again.

If it could even be called sleeping.

Most nights often resulted in nightmares, sweating, and an overwhelming sense of his immediate doom. He cried more than he would ever tell anyone, leaving his eyes red and raw and his muscles aching. Phantom pains would shoot up his arm, as he tried desperately to stretch fingers that no longer existed.

At best, Gordon remained in a state of half-awareness, ready to jump awake at the slightest noise. He’d already done it multiple times—distant sounds of the apartment building shifting and its residents going about their lives startled him out of his reverie, causing him to bolt upright with a shout and a hand desperately searching for his gun, a weapon, anything he could use to defend himself.

The noises had never been anything actually dangerous, if you didn’t count his landlord’s curtly worded text about “disturbing the neighbors.” Gordon just offered a simple apology and no reason for the noise complaint, knowing that his landlord wouldn’t understand. No one would.

Gordon wondered briefly if he was being melodramatic; after all, the friends he survived that living hell with were continuing on their lives as best they could, giving and taking support from each other as needed. A quick comb through of the notifications on his phone told him just that, though most of the messages seemed to be focused on him and not the group as a whole.

Among the texts from his few friends outside of work, Gordon had several from Tommy; mainly just reminders to take care of himself and lighthearted distractions that made him smile in the moment. Tommy never truly let him be alone, even when he forgot to reply for days. There were some from Coomer as well, usually longer and more insistent about including himself in their activities. There was even one from Bubby, complete with a grainy photo of a sad looking store mascot—or whatever it was Bubby deemed necessary to photograph—and the caption “that’s you”.

That one made him laugh until it just made him sad, copying the costume’s expression with an exaggerated frown before he closed out of the messaging app.

Gordon knew they meant well. He appreciated it fully, and told them any time he could build up the energy to do so. But he didn’t want to see them.

He wasn’t sure if it was the stubborn part of his brain that never let him show weakness, or a different part of it that told him trying to have a deep conversation with the Science Team would only lead to his hair going grey faster than it already was.

Which, in his defense, was completely true. Sometimes getting any of them to reach a serious point was remarkably similar to herding cats. But they had all seemed to change after Black Mesa, perhaps growing more in tune with each other’s needs and emotions. Or, perhaps, just growing the slightest bit of human empathy.

There was a third, quieter part of Gordon’s brain that told him he didn’t want to see his friends because it made him jealous. It made him jealous to see their lives continue while he wallowed away in his own misery.

They were good people—people he cared about, people he had risked his life for, and if it came to it, probably would again. And now, Gordon almost couldn’t stand to see them happy.

They seemed to be healing faster than he was. It wasn’t fair.

Another chime startled Gordon from his thoughts. He glanced down at his phone to see another text from Tommy, as if the universe were deciding to punish him for thinking so selfishly. Tommy was kind. He deserved to be happy.

[6:21 PM] Hi, Mr. Freeman! I need to pick some things up from the store.
[6:22 PM] Would you like to come with?

It was such a strange, tame, domestic task that it genuinely made Gordon pause, and in his head he began to make a mental checklist of the pros and cons.

One, he did really need to get some groceries. His car had been trashed, left behind at Black Mesa, and public transport was about as unmotivating as things could possibly be when it came to dragging himself outside to do real life, adult things.

Two, that meant he needed to put effort into looking like a normal human being. Gordon was sure without looking that he currently looked like some sort of bog witch.

Three, it would be with just Tommy.

Four, it would be with just Tommy.

After a few long moments’ consideration, Gordon shrugged, decided to hell with it, and sent a quick reply back.

[6:24 PM] Sure, I appreciate it. I need to shower first. Can you wait 20 minutes?

Gordon didn’t bother waiting to see the reply he got back, instead focusing on rolling out of bed and not falling on his ass as a result of the wave of dizziness that washed over him. Definitely need to drink some water, Freeman, he thought as he made his way to the bathroom across the hall.

It was lighter in the small room than it was in his bedroom, as the evening sunlight flowed gently through the small window near the top of the wall. The slight change in brightness meant Gordon could safely turn on the light without aggravating his headache further, though it also meant he had no escape from his haggard reflection that stared at him from the mirror.

He looked like shit.

His hair was greasy and tangled, falling over his shoulders in a way that said “stoner” more than “theoretical physicist”. Not that they were mutually exclusive, but Gordon hadn’t even touched cigarettes since his early college days. Dark circles lined his face in a way that made him wonder if they were now permanent. His skin was pallid, and his eyes betrayed so much more of his inner turmoil than he was comfortable sharing with the public view. He forced himself to look away from the divide where his skin met cold, unforgiving metal.

Gordon let out a sigh, turning away from the bathroom mirror to duck back into his bedroom and grab whatever clothes were thrown on the top of his laundry hamper. He had yet to do laundry, too. He figured he could do that after his shower, after his trip to the grocery store when he could reward himself with a personal pint of ice cream and whatever wine seemed appealing at the time.

Like he would even have the energy. Fake it ‘til you make it, Freeman.

After another quick glance at the clock and receiving confirmation from Tommy, Gordon sped through his shower as best he could without burning himself in the hot water. Sure, he was largely in a bad mood lately and couldn’t even carry a normal conversation, but he was still too polite to purposely make someone wait for him.

After a few minutes spent enjoying the cascade of hot water, Gordon managed to towel himself mostly dry and throw on his clothes in a way that hid the fact he had basically picked them up from the floor. His beard was still messy and untrimmed, but could now be passed off as “artsy hippie”. Or maybe “vegan YouTuber”. Or maybe just what he really was, “pathetic depressed dad”.

Gordon pushed the thoughts from his head as he heard a honk from outside. Tommy was nothing if not punctual. A quick second to grab his phone and his keys, and he was ready.

As he stepped outside, it briefly occurred to Gordon that he had never seen Tommy’s car. It was… classic looking, and painted a pale, banana yellow that dimly reflected the warm tones of the sunset in the distance. Gordon didn’t know much about cars, but he decided it was fitting.

Tommy threw Gordon a wave from out of the window as he approached, and the soft sounds of whatever radio station the man was listening to quieted to a stop as he opened the passenger door. After a quick glance cast in the back, Gordon was almost surprised at the lack of the large, energetic dog Tommy normally had with him.

“Hi, Mr. Freeman!” Tommy greeted him, his cheerful tone echoing his earlier texts. Gordon wasn’t sure how Tommy supplied his bottomless pit of optimism, or if it was just a fabrication to hide his true emotions. After a second spent considering it, Gordon put his money on a mix of both options and then remembered he was being addressed directly.

“Hey, Tommy. No Sunkist today?”

“No, I figured she would be a bit too–I thought maybe something calmer would be nice,” Tommy replied, gaze fixed on the overhead mirror as he carefully backed out of the apartment parking lot. It allowed him to miss the way Gordon’s lip quirked in reaction to the caring gesture. “Besides, now I can surprise her with some new–with a new toy, or something. There’s not a lot of options for the perfect dog, you know.”

Gordon nodded his head in agreement, only half listening. The early spring breeze was a nice change of pace from the stale air of his apartment, and he didn’t hesitate to crack the window down lower to enjoy more of it.

The atmosphere between the two of them was something Gordon would describe as awkward before anything else, but all things considered, it wasn’t… unpleasant. Tommy didn’t bother asking the hard questions of “how are you”, and “how are you doing”, as he turned onto the main road leading into town. Of all the things that Tommy did, Gordon appreciated that one perhaps the most. He had never seen the point of asking small talk questions that one already knew the answers to. It only took up valuable time and energy that could be better spent doing other things.

Instead, Tommy told him about those other things, filling the space of conversation without putting pressure on Gordon to reply. Tommy was perceptive enough to know the difference between Gordon not wanting to talk, and Gordon not wanting anyone to talk. It was admittedly a nice change of pace to listen to his friend’s latest whereabouts, even if Tommy spent most of the time describing the new song he had been listening to on repeat.

“Have you ever thought of learning an instrument, Mr. Freeman?” Tommy asked, after a lengthy bout of the history of a cappella and whether or not it could be considered a genre. “I think I could see you doing something like that.”

Gordon let out a harsh laugh, dimly aware that it sounded more like a scoff than any sort of noise that conveyed positive emotion. If Tommy noticed, he didn’t react. “I played, uh… what is it? The thing that’s like a flute but not?”

“Clarinet?” Tommy supplied helpfully.

“Clarinet, yeah,” Gordon said, nodding his head in recognition of the memory. “I played that in high school. Mainly because it was my mom’s idea. I didn’t end up liking it. Wasted all the money she spent on getting me a tutor and everything.”

Tommy cast Gordon a glance out of the corner of his eye before returning his attention to the road. “Was she mad at you?”

“A little bit, yeah. She got over it pretty fast.”

“Then, I don’t think–I don’t see it as a waste. You learned something. Learning is usually pretty good,” Tommy said evenly.

Gordon let out a hum, not entirely disagreeing. “Still, hindsight’s 20/20.”

Tommy didn’t offer any other response, and they continued their trip in peaceful silence. Gordon stared out the window, busy gazing at the mess of suburban buildings, street lights, and trees all blending together into a colorful haze as they passed. There was a time that he lived in a building that looked similar to the ones that littered the streets. Gordon remembered when his only worries were skinned knees and what he would have for dinner that night.

Well, one of those things was still a worry.

As they pulled into the mostly empty parking lot of the grocery store, Gordon realized he had absolutely no idea what recipes to make, or what essentials he even needed. He could start with the basics, but… Another week of cheap TV dinners was beginning to look appealing, despite the fact that his inner Food Network fan was screaming at him for even considering it.

“Tommy,” Gordon started when they walked through the automatic doors of the store, catching the attention of his companion as Tommy trailed behind him, looking somewhat unsure of himself. “You know how to cook?”

“Oh! Well…” Tommy trailed off, pausing mid-sentence to turn and grab a grocery basket off the nearby rack. “Sort of? I can make uh–I like pasta. I just follow the directions but add my own ideas–ingredients.”

Intrigued, Gordon raised an eyebrow. “What sort of things? Seafood? Spices?”

Tommy looked as if he were being asked a very personal secret. “Kool-Aid.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” Tommy replied, while he played with the fraying edges of his shirt sleeve. “It’s like–I make a sauce. Different flavors make it cook differently. I like blue the best.”

“Alright, I’ll take your word for it,” Gordon said, making a mental note to never meet up at Tommy’s house for dinner. It didn’t particularly give him any ideas on what to buy, either.

Gordon brought his hand up to his chin in thought. He hoped as he stared around the open area of the building, something that was even the slightest bit appealing would magically jump out at him. They were near the produce section, and vegetables were probably a good idea. Pasta–normal, tomato-based pasta–didn’t sound terrible either, and he still had ice cream on the brain from earlier…

Eventually, Gordon managed to pile together a few ideas with the occasional input from Tommy as they strolled through the aisles. The other man disappeared as often as he chimed in with ideas on what to make, though he always returned quickly with a different snack or something of the sort.

At one point, Gordon rounded a corner and found Tommy seemingly debating the difference between two boxes of tin foil. He turned and asked, “Do you think Sunkist would enjoy these?”

To which Gordon could only reply, “Uh, maybe?”

It took him longer than it would have taken on his own to shop, but Gordon found he didn’t mind. Tommy was pleasant to be around, especially when he wasn’t spending so much energy on trying to cheer Gordon up. It was the casual nonchalance of the situation that Gordon found he enjoyed the most. For once, there were no expectations.

Until Tommy’s phone rang. He waved Gordon an apology and paused to bring the device to his ear, answering with a cheerful “Hello, this is Tommy!” before his expression changed into something akin to panic.

Immediately, dread crawled in the pit of Gordon’s stomach like a poisonous snake. He quickly went over all the reasons why Tommy would react like that, and all of them were terrible, all of them meant danger—

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Freeman!” Oh. Tommy was speaking to him. “That was the humane society’s automated messager. I completely forgot I was supposed to volunteer with them tonight! Let me just–I’ll call them and tell them I can’t come, don’t worry!”

Oh, indeed.

Gordon let out a breath of relief he hadn’t even realized he was holding. “No, it’s alright. I don’t have that much, I’ll just take the bus back home.”

Tommy’s eyes were as large as dinner plates, unable to hide his emotion. “Are you sure? I’d really hate to trouble you–I feel bad.”

“Don’t worry,” Gordon replied, mustering a smile for his friend’s sake. It wasn’t like the idea was horrible. “You were nice enough to drive me here. Helping out with the animals is like… your thing, yeah? Don’t worry about me.”

The smile he got back was enough to turn his own into a slightly more real one. “Thanks, Mr. Freeman. And yeah, they’re very–they’re very nice. I’d say you should come, but I think they might be a bit loud for you.”

Again with Tommy’s considerate kindness. Gordon let out a small laugh, amused by the thought of Tommy surrounded by barking, excited dogs. It would probably give Gordon a headache that would last for a week.

“I appreciate it, bud. I’ll see you around.”

Tommy gave him a wave as he turned on his heel and practically ran down the aisle, obviously later than he had let on. Gordon, now alone with his own thoughts and the buzzing hum of the fluorescent lights above, considered the items he had in his cart.

With a glance cast toward the window and the realization that it was now almost completely dark out, he considered what he had to be enough. Gordon made quick work of exiting the store, opting to use the self-checkout instead of confronting a cashier who would probably be just as tired as he was.

With Tommy gone, Gordon’s anxiety had spiked, though as he stepped outside of the building and took a deep breath in he began to relax once more. The distant buzz of traffic and nightlife provided a conjoined white noise, a steady hum of background life that kept his thoughts at bay.

It was comfortably cool out, the bus station wasn’t too far, and he had survived public interaction without having something go wrong. Maybe, just maybe, Gordon would be okay.

He repeated the thought like a mantra in his head as he walked down to the bus station, grocery bags held under one arm so that he could dig his nails into his palm with the other, real hand.

There was a crowd at the station, which Gordon wasn’t thrilled about. Over the garbled mess of multiple conversations assailing his ears, a song played. It took a few moments for Gordon to realize he knew the song—it was one that was often on the radio on his drive to work, when he was so deep in the mountains that the antenna could only pick up a few stations.

The thought of work drove a quick, icy nail into his heart before it was gone again, replaced by a strange calm as Gordon focused on the gentle beat of the music while he pushed through the crowd to find a seat. It quickly became a lifeline, a memory of better days. One where he could focus on the good, the good before all of the bad, bad, bad.

The bus station benches were hard and uncomfortable, but Gordon ignored that too as he put his groceries on the seat next to him to give his arm a break. Closing his eyes, he started to hum quietly to the music, letting every other noise fade away into the background.

As Gordon hummed along, the music got louder, reaching a new pitch he couldn’t match. He didn’t remember having any trouble with this song before, and the slight trance he was in shattered as he opened his eyes and realized two things.

One, he wasn’t the only one singing along to the music.

Two, all of the hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end. He knew that voice, didn’t he?

Gordon’s heart beat faster than what he thought was humanly acceptable as he stood up with a start, scanning the crowd desperately for—what? For what, Gordon?

A ghost? A regret? The source of his oncoming panic attack?

No, it was nothing, it was just his mind playing tricks on him. But, Gordon could still hear the faint humming, a distant harmony with the music that he knew wasn’t part of the background vocals.

His groceries temporarily forgotten, Gordon pushed forward, eyes darting back and forth like a cornered animal as he scanned every single person around him, heartbeat roaring in his ears.

Gordon was afraid. Why? Why was he afraid?

Why was he here?

Why was he here?

Eventually, the humming led him to what was just out of his reach, pushing through the crowd as if it were a figment of his imagination that existed for the sole purpose of tormenting him.

All things considered, perhaps it did.

And yet. Gordon reached forward, hand clamping around a stranger’s wrist and—oh god, what was he doing—a stranger turned to look at him, a stranger’s expression darkened.

And yet.

Time seemed to come to a halt.

Gordon stared at Benrey, and Benrey stared back. It was him, it couldn’t be anyone else, even though he was dressed in casual clothes and his dark hair spilled out from under a soft beanie and Gordon’s stupid, tiny brain dimly realized huh, he didn’t know that’s what Benrey looked like.

People continued to move around them like liquid, though a few passersby stopped for a few mere seconds to gaze at the pair in concern, wondering what sort of scene was about to happen in their small suburban bus station.

But Gordon had no words to say, had no plan, nothing. Not even anger boiled within him, even though he had spent hours considering how he would react if he ever came face to face with the inhuman menace again and had come to the conclusion that a baseball bat was his best bet.

That conclusion also relied on the idea that if Benrey came back, it would be as the terrifying being Gordon had witnessed before, if that monstrosity could even be called Benrey. It relied on the idea that Benrey would be trying to kill him, or at the very least antagonize him, and then Gordon would hit a breaking point and beat him senseless and everything would be fixed.

It didn’t rely on the idea that Gordon would hunt Benrey down while his ice cream slowly melted on a bench back behind him, or that Benrey would simply stare at him with his arm held limply in Gordon’s grasp. Or that Benrey would look so… normal.

Slowly, Benrey’s expression began to change, morphing from his usual apathy into a mix of emotions Gordon would have never begun to imagine seeing on his face.

He looked angry, almost. Perhaps even fearful.

“Benrey—“ Gordon said, though the words quickly died in his throat. It was as if saying his name would break the moment and he would wake up back in his apartment after another weird nightmare.

But it didn’t. Benrey was still in front of him, but Benrey didn’t respond.

And then he lurched forward, nearly throwing Gordon off balance as he pulled away from Gordon’s grip, not even sparing another glance before he dipped behind a random stranger and disappeared into the crowd.

Gordon stood still where the guard had left him, arm hanging limply where it had fallen to his side.

He didn’t know what to do. He could still barely breathe.

Overhead, the loudspeaker chimed, and an overly friendly customer service voice announced the arrival of the bus he needed to catch.

Steeling himself, Gordon turned back to collect his groceries and then get home. He could figure out what to do from there. He could figure out how to keep himself from falling apart where nobody else could see him.

He hoped that he could.

Chapter Text

There were two things that Gordon was now hyper aware of.

One: it was a good thing he lived on the ground floor, because he was sure if his landlord didn’t already hate him, his constant pacing back and forth in the unlit living room would probably have started getting on people’s nerves about two hours ago. It was at the very least grounds for giving him another strongly worded text.

Two: he was absolutely, supremely, totally fucked.

Gordon had had his suspicions before, but now it was crystal clear. Every single force in the universe was coming together to make sure his life would never be peaceful. Like a giant celestial billboard that said in bold lettering, hey, we hate Gordon Freeman!

Though, he had been saying that sort of thing for years, often over the slightest inconvenience. When you were late for work, hadn’t slept all night, and your breakfast sandwich didn’t have ketchup on it, wasn’t that some sort of divine intervention?

Sandwich musings aside, the new situation unfolding in front of Gordon was exponentially worse than anything he had ever experienced before. He knew how these things went. As soon as he was stable enough to start feeling the slightest bit of comfort, Benrey would drop back into his life just to tear everything apart again.

He should be dead.

And yet. Technically, Gordon also should be.

As it usually did, a different part of Gordon’s brain spoke up in protest of the anxious, overthinking one. He looked like he wanted nothing to do with you, Freeman, stop freaking out! Maybe everything will be okay! But that was just one of Benrey’s games, wasn’t it?

Gordon sighed, quieting his internal battle while at the same time stopping himself from continuing the figure eight path he was sure would soon be burned into the dingy carpet. He knew he couldn’t deal with the situation alone. Maybe it wouldn’t blow up to be as bad as he was afraid of, but…

He needed a second opinion.

Thankfully, Dr. Coomer didn’t live too far away. It had been by the man’s choice, as he had shown up on the doorstep the day after Gordon returned home with a joyous smile and a, “Gordon! We’re neighbors now!” It had taken all of Gordon’s willpower not to shut the door on his face. He was also not sure of when—or if—he had ever given Coomer his address.

Now, it was vaguely comforting knowing Gordon had a familiar face only a few blocks away. When he wasn’t running headlong into danger or wielding physics-defying guns with the aggression of a man five times his size, Coomer was pleasant to be around. He was wise in the sort of fatherly way that made Gordon feel like he could say anything without being judged. Or, if he was being judged, Coomer would at least be upfront about it.

Most of the time Bubby was with him as well, and Gordon knew the man would definitely be upfront in his judgement. Gordon could respect his bluntness, even if they didn’t always see eye to eye. At least there would be no doubt left in his mind if Bubby told him he was dumber than a bag of hammers.

Coomer had also said that Gordon could show up any time he needed. It was this reassurance that led Gordon back out his door and down the street, without bothering to send a quick warning beforehand. It was now far after sunset, but he was sure the scientist would still be awake.

Fifteen minutes later—Gordon had been purposely dragging his feet for extra time to collect his thoughts—and the announcement of his presence came in the form of a swift knock on Coomer’s front door. Twenty seconds later, and Coomer’s beaming face stared back at him.

“Ah, hello Gordon!”

Seriously, did he teleport to the door?

Gordon offered a shaky smile back. “Hey, Dr. Coomer. Sorry for uh… showing up out of the blue in the middle of the night.”

“Not to worry! Come on in, you look like you have a lot going on in that big head of yours,” Coomer said. Remarkably perceptive at the worst times, he stood aside to let Gordon pass.

The inside of Coomer’s home was comfortably warm, a nice change of pace after the brisk nighttime air. It also contained Bubby, who seemed to be waging a battle against a jar of banana peppers. And losing. Bubby offered Gordon a greeting with a slight tilt of his head, then returned to his task of trying to open the jar, scowling.

“Is he here like, permanently, or...?” Gordon asked, curiosity piqued.

“I wouldn’t have him anywhere else,” Coomer said as he smiled fondly at the other man, but made no attempt to help him. Gordon had to wonder how long this particular scene had been unfolding.

"Don’t sound so judgemental. I lived in a tube," Bubby cut in, without looking up. "Which was kind of reduced to ashes with the rest of that hellhole."

Gordon shrugged, unsure of where the gaps in their absurd logic lay. "I dunno, I figured maybe you hollowed out a fridge on the side of the road or something."

That got his attention. Hand still firmly clamped on the lid, Bubby said, "I'm more powerful than you could ever imagine, Gordon. A fridge wouldn't be able to contain me."

“Nor should it, Bubby!” Coomer said. “A fridge is only useful for containing celery and half-used condiments you'll never touch again! But that's not important. What is important is you telling me what's on your mind, Gordon.”

Gordon fidgeted as Coomer stared expectantly, though not unkindly. Across the room, a quiet hiss tore through the air before it resounded in a pop and the clang of metal hitting the floor.

“By Gods, I’ve done it!” Bubby exclaimed, holding the now opened jar above his head like one would a first prize medal. After a second, his brain caught up with his ears and he seemed to realize that Gordon was there for more serious matters, and he promptly lowered the jar and reached in to stuff two peppers in his mouth whole.

Coomer applauded. Gordon remained silent.

“I don't want to hear about your man pain. Yell if something interesting happens,” Bubby said, voice muffled from his attempts to form coherent words around banana pepper. He skirted around Coomer and disappeared into the living room, taking the jar with him.

Coomer watched him go, then reached to pick up the discarded lid and place it on the counter. After that, he pulled a chair out from the dining table and gestured for Gordon to sit. “I think I’ll make some tea. Would you care for a cup?”

“Uh… yeah, alright,” Gordon replied somewhat awkwardly, and reached to rub at the back of his neck. “Thanks.”

Gordon took the proffered seat while Coomer buzzed around the small kitchen, offering Gordon another chance to attempt to put his thoughts into words. The silence was companionable, reminiscent of the car ride with Tommy earlier. It made Gordon wonder if the real reason he had been avoiding his friends was not because they were difficult to be around, and more because he was an asshole.

Eventually, Coomer stilled in his flitting around the room. He wordlessly offered Gordon a cup of perfectly steeped tea along with an assortment of creamers and sugar, then collected his own. Gordon hadn’t even noticed the noise of the water boiling; perhaps because of the electric kettle, or maybe Bubby had something to do with it.

Regardless, Gordon hesitantly brought the cup to his lips. Outside of coffee, he had never been a fan of hot drinks, but after all of Coomer’s effort it felt rude to decline. It also provided an opening for Coomer to start the hard conversation ahead of them, despite the fact that he couldn’t possibly know what was on Gordon’s mind.

“Are you here to talk about Benrey?”

Gordon nearly spat. Maybe he was wrong about that last bit.

“What? No—maybe,” Gordon spluttered in an attempt to regain his composure. “What does he have to do with anything?”

Coomer wrapped both hands around his mug. As the steam from the hot drink wafted into the air and out of sight, Gordon would say his expression looked almost… smug. Knowing, at the very least. “You’ve been avoiding the Science Team for over a week now, Gordon. Then, randomly, you appear in the middle of the night with all the grace of a wet cat. What else could it be?”

Gordon was suddenly very interested in the wood grain pattern of the dining table. Quietly, he asked, “Did you know?”

“Yes.”

In the deep, dark depths of him, a faint kindling of anger stirred. Anger at being left out of the picture when the picture was something as important as the reappearance of their eldritch assailant. Anger that after he gave everything he had to offer and more, it still wasn’t enough. Gordon could do anything and everything, and he would never make a difference in the way things unfolded.

It welled up inside him for all but a second before it burst, extinguished by the great wave of tired that made up his entire being.

He was tired of fighting.

Coomer interrupted Gordon’s thoughts by bringing his mug up to his lips with a characteristically loud slurp. “Gordon, if I may. Why are you so upset about the possibility that Benrey might live?”

“Is there a reason not to be?” Gordon asked, incredulous. “We killed him. Because he tried to kill us, remember? Because he—“

Coomer held up a hand, a gentle smile on his face.

“Stranger things have happened. And have happened to us! Is this one so far out of the realm of possibility?”

“Kind of. I mean—it was supposed to be? Those laws got pretty fucked up a long time ago,” Gordon said. He felt a headache coming on. “Him being alive is one thing. Him being alive specifically to torment me is another.”

“Have you spoken with him?” Coomer asked, and suddenly Gordon felt like he was fighting a war he could not win, much like Bubby’s previous pepper exploits. At least Bubby stood a chance.

“...No,” he said finally, spitting the word out like it had personally attacked him. “I only know he’s even alive because I... I saw him in the middle of a crowd earlier and it was really weird, and I stopped to make sure it was really him and not just some grungy retail employee, and then he just… vanished.”

“Then why are you so sure he’s back to torment you?”

“Because he’s Benrey? That’s literally all he ever did.”

Coomer merely gazed at him, an island of calm in the tumultuous thundering sea of Gordon’s emotions. “I'm asking you to put yourself in someone else's shoes, if you can fit in there. Or perhaps the other way around.”

“Interesting analogy, but... sure. Alright. Make your point,” Gordon sighed.

"It was a metaphor, Gordon!" Gordon quirked a brow. "What I'm saying is, well... You forgave dear Bubby, didn't you?"

“I didn’t forgive—“ Gordon exclaimed, and then stopped. His hand twitched, fingers flexing subconsciously. The distorted sound of a TV turned down low enough to eavesdrop on a sensitive conversation could be distantly heard from the other room. “I didn’t forget, at least.”

The silence of the unsaid stretched between them. As Coomer took another prolonged sip of his tea, Gordon knew he understood.

“So don’t forget,” the scientist replied after a beat. “It’s a good thing to remember how you’ve been wronged. It holds the people you care for accountable.”

“You say that like it’s easy. And that whole situation was different, anyway. Seriously, are you asking me to like him? Benrey, of all people?”

“No,” Coomer said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “These words aren’t for Benrey, they’re for you. Anger is a part of healing. Be angry, if that’s what you need. But anger needs to burn through, to make room for what comes after. Forgiveness is more for yourself than anyone who has hurt you.”

Coomer set his mug down gently, looking at Gordon with an intensity he had only previously shown a few select times. It reminded Gordon of the look his mother gave him years ago when he told her he had a son. There was something proud there, mixed with an ageless, raging defiance.

After a second, Coomer continued. “You don’t have to like him. You don’t even need to see him, if that’s what’s best. But you do need to heal. How you do that is something you need to figure out on your own.”

Gordon remained silent. The man had a point, several in fact. But it ran against his stubborn nature to accept it all so easily. In lieu of arguing, he brought a shaky hand up to thread through his hair, knocking loose several strands from his ponytail in the process. Finally, he said, “How’d you even find out?”

“I spoke with Tommy,” Coomer said, and something in Gordon’s mind clicked. Tommy liked mean people.

Huh, Tommy liked Gordon. And Gordon was often meanest to himself.

“Alright,” he choked out, intensely aware of how his voice cracked on the syllables. “I’ll try my best. I just–I need to figure out what’s going on.”

Another loud slurp answered him. As Coomer set his mug down again, Gordon saw it was already empty. “Fine idea, Gordon. Should you need any help in your detective work, know that you have the full might of the Science Team on your side!”

“Thanks, Dr. Coomer,” Gordon said, and meant it. “Maybe we could… I don’t know, get together and just talk about all this. Or anything, really.”

Coomer nodded sagely as he stood up, then grabbed both his own and Gordon’s unfinished drinks and delivered them to the sink. “I’ll contact our Tommy first thing tomorrow. Just think, all of us reunited! It’ll be a spectacle for the ages!”

At Coomer’s sudden change in volume, Bubby peeked his head into the kitchen, and it became abundantly clear that he had been standing close by the whole time. “What are you planning, Harold?”

“Nothing you need worry about, Bubby dear. Just a good old fashioned day of rest and relaxation. Oh, perhaps I’ll even break out some sangria!”

“Sangria?” Bubby questioned, slowly revealing more of his body from around the corner. “Well, alright, but it better not be the peach one. I hate that shit.”

Gordon smiled as the offhand comment sparked a heated fruit debate between the two men. A day of relaxing, huh? Yeah, he could deal with that.

Gordon couldn’t deal with that.

He had spent both the return home and many, many hours after having an internal debate over the fact that his life was very possibly coming to a head and there was nothing he could do. Gordon’s pacing cut into the morning, which soon turned into fitting in as many chores as he possibly could before his energy spiked downward. The sun was high in the sky by the time he could calm down long enough to take a nap.

When Gordon awoke, he considered how best to tell Coomer that yeah, he had been the one to suggest meeting up together but he was really starting to reach his limit for human interaction. However, the decision was taken out of his hands when his phone suddenly vibrated with the arrival of a text, coming dangerously close to falling off the edge of the nightstand.

Gordon caught it before the balance could be tipped, and looked at the screen with a slight whine readied deep in his throat that definitely did not make him sound like a spoiled teenager.

[11:17 AM] Going for a quick joyride, Gordon! Let yourself in when you’re up and about, the door will be open.

Well, Coomer really left no room for argument.

Gordon supposed he could just not show up, but the lingering echoes of Coomer’s voice in his ears drowned out any other excuses he could think of as quickly as they popped into his head.

But you do need to heal.

The easiest way wasn’t always the best one. Even good decisions required hard work, and Gordon supposed wasting away in his apartment wasn’t doing him any long term favors. Besides, Coomer had seemed intent on just having a good time. They didn’t even have to talk about anything serious, and if they did, it would be like ripping off a band-aid.

Quick and clean.

It became a mantra as Gordon rooted through his freshly done laundry, trying to find something comfy to wear. He actually made an effort to fold and put it away afterward, breaking his routine of sloppy laziness in a way that told him he could do anything.

Quick and clean, he told himself, as he retraced the steps back down to Coomer’s house in the gentle morning breeze. When Gordon arrived there, he was in a mood that he would tentatively describe as content. Happy was too strong a label, but it was a start. Hand on the doorknob, he resigned himself to waiting peacefully until the others arrived.

But the universe had other things in store for him.

“‘Sup,” Benrey said.

Gordon nearly jumped half his height into the air, and stepped backwards toward the front door in a vain effort to create as much distance between them as possible without actually running back outside. Benrey merely gazed at Gordon indifferently, preoccupied with using his index finger to bat a mini marshmallow around the table like a hockey puck.

A few different thoughts occurred to Gordon at once. This was real, this was actually happening, and he wasn’t losing his mind like he was afraid he had been since yesterday evening. All he could do was stand there gaping, too shocked to form any sort of coherent sentence. Hell, he didn’t even know what to feel, let alone what to say.

Benrey tilted his head quizzically. “Just gonna leave me hanging? Alright.”

He broke their staring contest and turned his attention downward, leaving Gordon to let out a breath he wasn’t even aware he had been holding. On the table in front of Benrey were a few plastic grocery bags, a giant jug of some fruity drink Gordon assumed was Bubby-approved, and two bags of mini marshmallows. One of the bags was torn open like it had been mauled by a wild animal, its soft white insides spilling across the table.

Behind them, the door opened and slammed shut with a force that said the culprit had basically thrown it down in an attempt to get inside the house as quickly as possible, nearly hitting Gordon in the process.

“Benrey, I got—oh,” Tommy’s voice rang out brightly, then stilled to a halt as if he had just witnessed a trainwreck in live-action. “Hey, Mr. Freeman.”

Gordon turned to greet him with a shaky smile. “Hey, Tommy. I don’t suppose you could tell me what the hell is going on?”

Tommy looked uncomfortable. He shifted on his feet, holding another grocery bag tightly. “Dr. Coomer and Mr. Bubby went to get stuff for uh—a cookout, and I just went down the street…”

“You can’t make s’mores with mini marshmallows, dude. Gotta be full size,” Benrey piped up.

Gordon pinched the bridge of his nose, fully aware that if the ground didn’t open and swallow him in about two seconds he was going to lose it. “What are you even doing here? And who asked you?”

Benrey seemed unaffected. “Uh… chilling. Like you should be.”

Yep, there it was. Gordon refocused his attention on Benrey, the strained irritation in his voice mutating and growing into the raging beast it often did when Benrey said literally anything at all. “No, you don't get to tell me that! You don't get to suddenly show up and act like everything's okay—”

“Yo, why are you making this a problem?” Benrey asked, holding up his hands in the same way one would when they were dealing with an angry soccer mom at a department store.

Gordon stilled to a halt. For once, for one single moment in the universe where everything aligned just right and would never, ever again, Benrey had a point. Kind of.

It was still a much more dire situation than the other people in the room were making it out to be, but Gordon had been the one to chase after Benrey upon becoming aware that he was even alive. Benrey hadn't even said anything to him. Benrey hadn't even made any attempt to be near him, or annoy him, or even acknowledge their shared existence.

Until now, when they happened to be drawn together by mere coincidence. Well, not coincidence, because Tommy clearly knew something that Gordon didn’t. But for Benrey to be so passive...

It was out of character, and it put Gordon on edge. His fingers curled into a fist at his side, but he did his best to still his breathing.

"We... we need to talk, yeah?"

"Yeah," Tommy said, helpfully.

"Nah," Benrey said. He picked up a marshmallow between his fingers and tossed it into the air, opening his mouth wide in an attempt to catch it. It bounced off his cheek and fell to the floor.

Gordon stepped forward and all but dragged Benrey out of his seat by the wrist, earning a half-hearted complaint as he did so. “Tommy, would you excuse us? I’ll talk to you when I know I’m not gonna say something I regret.”

Tommy only watched in bewilderment as Gordon stepped past him to disappear out the door with Benrey trailing behind him. Gordon walked until they were out of sight around the corner of the house, and stopped, arms crossed over his chest.

“Talk.”

“Woah, you’re trying to get me alone this early on?” Benrey asked, raising an eyebrow as he leaned against the worn brick. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

Gordon groaned. “Can you like, act normal for once? Just this one time in your life?”

He received a shrug in response, though the fact that Benrey wouldn’t meet his eye didn’t escape his notice. “Don’t know what you want me to say, man. Why don’t you chill out?”

“I won’t ‘chill out’ because you’re supposed to be dead, Benrey. I watched you die on a weird fucking alien planet and the only reason that I’m not still there, also dead, with you and your dead body is because some alien dude in a suit is a really cool dad.” Gordon practically loomed over Benrey as he ranted, but the other didn’t seem the least bit bothered by his irritation.

“Neat,” Benrey said. “Why can’t you be that cool?”

“Because I—probably because I’m not an alien. How are you alive?”

Silence. Benrey reached up to play with a strand of hair that fell into his eyes.

Gordon sighed. He should’ve known better than to expect anything out of the guard. The sigh turned into a choked sob as the reality of the situation hit Gordon over the head again and again, and the noise seemed to startle Benrey back to attention as his eyes widened in surprise.

“Huh?” Benrey said. And then, “...I don’t know. Are you crying, dude?”

“Yeah,” Gordon said, though he was just realizing it himself. He reached his hand up tentatively to touch his face, and pulled his fingers away wet. Another sob escaped him, and then another, and distantly he was thankful that he chose to hide in Coomer’s backyard where no one else could see him as he fell to his knees and broke down hysterically, breath running ragged.

No one else but Benrey, who was now trapped between Gordon’s mental breakdown and a literal brick wall. Gordon wasn’t looking at him, but he could hear the other man shift uncomfortably as if thinking over what to do.

“Uh… hey,” Benrey said, voice quieter than normal. It made him sound raspy, as if the soft tone were a thing he had no idea how to use. For everything that Gordon knew about Benrey, that could’ve very well been the truth. “Hey, don’t—dude. There’s no need to… You don’t need to cry.”

If only that was the way things worked. The genuine confusion Benrey showed was almost funny, but at the same time only made Gordon cry harder. As his body shook, a tentative hand came to rest on his shoulder.

“Gordon,” Benrey said, and the sound of his name was enough to bring Gordon to his senses just enough to look up at him through teary eyes. “I—fuck. That whole… that thing? That, uh… it wasn’t. It was really...”

Benrey never made sense, but Gordon had never heard him stumble over his words this much. It seemed the more he actually wanted to say something, the harder it became. Benrey withdrew his hand from Gordon’s shoulder and instead pointed up.

“That’s. Not me.”

“Okay,” Gordon said, choking on the words as they left his mouth. He didn’t know what Benrey was trying to say, but he knew that he was not mentally strong enough to deal with his presence. “Okay, alright. I need to… I should go.”

“No,” Benrey cut him off, and quirked his brow in a way that made him look far older than he normally looked. “I don’t think anyone really… Uh, you’re supposed to be here more than I am.”

Without waiting for any sort of response, he wiggled out from between Gordon and the wall and retreated across the yard. Gordon was left in silence with grass stains on his knees, shoulders still shaking. He stayed there alone until his breathing calmed to something that could be considered normal, and several minutes later the ambient noise of nature was interrupted by the sound of a car pulling into the driveway out front.

Coomer’s voice carried farther than anyone else Gordon had ever met. He heard the scientist talking about a recipe for chicken parmesan long before he heard two doors slam and then the front door open, presumably with Tommy still inside and confused as to where his friends had gone.

Gordon knew he should get up and face his problems like an adult, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t will himself to move. Eventually, he heard the door open again, and footsteps soon traced their way back around the house to where Gordon sat still slumped in the grass.

“Gordon,” Dr. Coomer said, and Gordon looked up to see the man extending a hand to him. “Why don’t you come inside?”

His voice was soft. Like Gordon would break if he spoke up. Another thing to be angry about, but… Coomer had only ever wanted the best for him. Gordon let Coomer help him up, and together the two walked back into the safety of the kitchen.

“You look like shit. Sangria?” Bubby said as they entered, never one for tact. However, he wasted no time in pouring a drink and holding it out for Gordon to accept, who did so wordlessly.

Casting a quick glance around, he noticed that Benrey was gone once again, predictably. Tommy was anxiously wringing his hands in the corner of the room, unsure of what to say at Gordon’s haggard appearance.

“I’m sorry, Tommy,” Gordon said instead, with a small hope that he could mend… some of this.

“No, Mr. Freeman, I am. I wasn’t thinking, I just wanted my friends to be happy,” Tommy replied quickly, ever the caring soul. Of course he did. He had always understood Benrey more than anyone else on their team, of course he had considered him a friend. Of course he would never keep anything from Gordon out of malice.

“I know,” Gordon said, and left it at that.

“As do we all,” Coomer supplied, voice still turned down a few octaves. “Which is why I think we should get this relaxation station started! Who wants marshmallows?”

“Oh, I got the big ones,” Tommy said, looking somewhat relieved. He reached to grab the bag off the table where it had been placed among the others, and opened it with much more care than the mini marshmallows had received. He carefully procured one marshmallow for each of them, only for Bubby to snatch half out of his hands and quickly burn them black.

“Why would you do that?” Gordon asked, horrified. In the back of his head, he was grateful to no longer be the center of attention. “If you don’t eat your marshmallows golden brown, you’re a heathen.”

“I must respectfully disagree, Gordon!” Coomer said.

“Looks like you’re the only heathen here,” Bubby said in response, popping the charred marshmallow into his mouth. “And I’m the one with the fire. Better hope you can develop some taste pretty quick.”

Something in Gordon’s heart stirred as Bubby cackled, prompting a laugh from Tommy as well. He was still shaken over his encounter with Benrey, but Coomer set to work preparing an actual meal for them all and soon rattled off a list of tasks for the rest of the three to do. With his hands busy, Gordon didn’t need to think about what all of that had meant.

At the very least, he could do so later.

As he preheated the oven, Gordon made a promise to himself. He would accept the things he could not change. Benrey was alive, and Gordon wasn’t about to murder him in cold blood if all he was doing was sadly eating marshmallows in Coomer’s kitchen and hanging around Tommy like a stray dog.

If he was going to be a part of life, that was okay. That didn’t mean he had to be a part of Gordon’s.

And yet. Even with the overwhelming background noise of Coomer and Bubby once again harshly debating something that probably didn't even matter, all Gordon could think about was Benrey’s despondent tone before he had quietly slipped away.

Chapter Text

For the first time in a long time, things seemed to calm down.

The week passed without any unwanted surprises or sources of sudden headaches. By all definitions of the word, it was normal. Almost achingly so.

Gordon managed to maintain his shaky pattern of keeping up with the mundane; he made a list of things he needed to do both daily and weekly, he kept up with his friends, he even reached out to his family. His mother hadn’t answered, but he ended up in tears after a lengthy conversation with his brother. For once, he was able to cry without the weight of existence pressing down close against his entire being. When Gordon went to splash water on his face afterward, he found himself smiling.

Of course, he talked to his son as well. Joshua’s mother hadn’t been pleased with him after his sudden absence, but she knew Gordon was a good man and wouldn’t abandon their son without good reason. She handed the phone over to the five year old without pressing for too many reasons, and Gordon learned that Joshua absolutely loved kindergarten, and that he was still as shy as ever but was trying very hard to make new friends.

Joshua then told him he was very happy with his mother, but that he also couldn’t wait for summer to come so he could be with his dad again. This made Gordon cry once again, but a quick press of the mute button saved Joshua from any worries that he had made Gordon upset.

When he went to bed that night, the echoing screams from monsters unknown were muted, lingering in his head like a normal bad dream instead of the vivid flashbacks that often accompanied him at night.

It was tense, and far from perfect, but it was better. It was healing, and healing bruises never looked pretty.

With some reluctance, Gordon was finally beginning to accept his place in the world. To gain a sense of self as both survivor and sufferer.

In the hazy evening light, he sat with Tommy on a park bench overlooking the river. Between them lay the wrappings of two sandwiches from a gas station down the street, spread out scattered like paper entrails.

Gordon learned between mild distractions and pauses to take a bite that Tommy didn’t really have a clue what had happened either.

“Benrey just showed up one day,” Tommy said, staring off into the distance where the sun’s rays reflected off the grimy water and shattered into a million pieces. “He said that he—he said he was looking for something? Or someone? He didn’t seem like he knew what was going on. And I asked who he was looking for, and he said… he said us, I guess.”

Gordon mused on this for a few moments. To not know the reasons why things happened, to not be able to identify a pattern, was incredibly frustrating. But he made a promise to himself, and he would keep it as best he could.

“Why go out of his way to avoid me then?”

Tommy absentmindedly worried the edges of his shirt as he spoke. It was a sign that he was thinking, or that he was nervous. “It’s really… hard to talk to Benrey sometimes, Mr. Freeman. Probably because I’m not the best at talking either. But I think—he seemed like he didn’t want to make things worse for you.”

Gordon only gave a small hum of acknowledgement, unsure of how to reply as he joined Tommy in watching the water flow in the setting sun. There was no proper way to fully unpack the implications of that statement, not without the subject of their conversation actually being there. And not without him actually communicating.

“Where is he now, anyway?” Gordon shifted on the bench, and brought a hand up to rub at the back of his neck where the light beat down on his skin. It wasn’t uncomfortably warm, merely a feeling that he could focus on. It helped to have his attention tied to a physical thing, to have something to ground him in the present. “Not that I care, I just—”

For what seemed like the first time since they had sat down to eat dinner together, Tommy turned to him directly and fixed him with a sharply pensive expression. “You know you don’t have to—there’s no need to explain yourself to me, Mr. Freeman.”

“Okay, I hear you,” Gordon said, with a nervous chuckle at the intensity of his friend’s face. “I assume he’s been staying with you?”

The moment passed, Tommy turned away once more. “Yeah.”

“How’s that one working out?”

“Alright. It’s actually—It’s pretty nice not being alone all the time,” Tommy replied, then paused with a purse of his lips. “You were expecting me to say it was awful?”

“I mean… I don’t know,” Gordon said. It was never something he had thought deeply about; he was very much an out of sight, out of mind person; the only time he found himself able to talk about their shared experiences was when life left him no other option. “I guess I do have a pretty negative bias.”

“Are you still angry?”

Gordon paused to take a bite of his half-eaten sandwich, more for the opportunity to think than any desire to savor the meal. Eating was more of a necessity than a luxury these days. “I don’t know either. I’m… bitter, I think. He was pretty horrible to me for like no reason. But that kind of went both ways. The stress of everything going on just… fuck, man. It gets to you.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tommy nod. “You can be a pretty angry person, Mr. Freeman. But I don’t think that’s who you are all the time.”

There was something about Tommy’s serious tone combined with the awkwardness of dealing with his own emotions that made Gordon double back, a genuine laugh this time ripped from his throat as Tommy looked curiously on at the new reaction. “You know you can call me by my first name, especially if your character analysis is gonna go right for the heart like that.”

Tommy frowned as Gordon continued to giggle quietly. “Oh. Was I wrong for saying that?”

“No, you have a point,” Gordon said, and wiped away a stray tear from the corner of his eye. “Coomer said anger is good, but I think it’s all circumstantial.”

Tommy began to nibble away at his own sandwich in lieu of responding, a sign that the conversation would end peacefully there as Gordon did the same. A gentle breeze blew in from the river and gripped playfully at the stray hairs that framed his face, carrying with it the sound of laughter and conversation from a distant shore.

Gordon was nearly done with his food by the time Tommy spoke again. “Can I ask you a favor, Mr. Fr—uh, Gordon?”

“Hmm?” Gordon hummed, mind not fully caught up to the present. “Oh yeah, sure. What’s up?”

“You know how I’ve been doing a lot of volunteer work lately and I need to—I ordered some stuff and books that I’ll need, but apparently my house is on the edge of uh… where the online people deliver? Can I have it sent to your place?”

Gordon blinked. He knew Tommy was working with the humane society as of late, but he wasn’t sure what sort of books you would need for doing volunteer work with dogs. Then again, it was Tommy. Upon realizing said man was still awaiting a response, he said, “Yeah! Yeah, of course. What kind of books, out of curiosity?”

Tommy hesitated, looking like he was either afraid of judgement or had something more serious on his mind. “A lot of things, really. I’m trying to expand my—keep my options open, I guess. I just want to… to make a difference, for once. A good one.”

Gordon gave him a sidelong glance. There was a definite air of melancholy in the way Tommy acted, one he wasn’t used to seeing in the normally optimistic scientist. The taller man stared down at the water, not aware of—or at least not reacting to—Gordon’s introspection.

He wondered then if Tommy’s coping mechanisms were the exact opposite of his own. Where he would be fine wasting away into nothing, Tommy would work himself to death in a heartbeat if it meant making someone’s day just a bit brighter. How unfortunate then, to be stuck with Gordon, whose only experience in giving advice was based on whether or not he had personally been in the same situation.

“I think…” Gordon said slowly, not wanting to come off the wrong way. “I think that what you’re doing is… good. And that you’ve already made a difference. You’re one of the most loyal, sympathetic people I’ve ever met. You wouldn’t do anything without thinking how it would affect someone else.”

“But what if that’s not enough? Mr. Gordon, we hurt… a lot of people,” Tommy said. Gordon laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, and did his best to ignore the feeling deep within him that only echoed the same thing, louder, harsher.

“Yeah, we did. That’s still… that’s something that I’m trying to live with every day. And it’s not—” A pause to keep his voice from cracking, though largely unsuccessful. “It’s not something that will ever be easy. Or okay. But we had no other choice. At least, not back then. And now we do. We have the choice to live.”

Tommy’s brown eyes met Gordon’s for only a moment before his gaze turned downward. “I just hope I’m doing the right thing.”

The hand on Tommy’s shoulder squeezed in what Gordon hoped was a reassuring manner. “If it makes you happy, then go for it. Just don’t work yourself to death, alright?”

“Yeah. Don’t sleep yourself to death, either.”

Two days later found Gordon with a knock on his door, one that caused him to startle and drop the cucumber he was just about to cut up with a clatter to the floor and a curse. The knock came again, more insistent than before, and Gordon resigned to retrieve the vegetable later if it meant sparing himself from the wrath of whoever was on the other side.

He opened it to find a disgruntled looking delivery driver, and had only a second to raise his eyebrow in question before a clipboard was shoved toward him with a complimentary, “Signature, please.”

Oh, right.

The driver didn’t ask for much more, and left Gordon alone with a box on his doorstep as he sent a quick text to Tommy.

[2:23 PM] Hey, your stuff got here
[2:24 PM] I didn’t expect it so fast, did you Amazon Prime it?

A response echoed a few minutes later with a ding from his phone as Gordon moved the box inside.

[2:29 PM] We’re all slaves to capitalism sometimes, Mr. Gordon.
[2:30 PM] Thanks for grabbing it though :-) I’ll swing by later to pick it up!

Gordon considered this for a moment as he cast a glance outside. It was a nice day, cooler than it had been all week and without a cloud in the sky. And Gordon hadn’t exactly been planning to do anything particularly important, so…

[2:32 PM] Don’t worry about it, I can drop it off. I’m pretty sure I remember where you live.

[2:33 PM] Thanks!!! :-D Key’s under the doormat!

Experimentally lifting the box brought extreme regret for even offering, but Tommy had already replied excitedly and Gordon couldn’t very well back out now without looking like a huge asshole. It was heavier than he had been expecting, but nothing he couldn’t lift. And Tommy only lived about twenty minutes away on foot.

Gordon stepped out the door with high optimism.

Thirty minutes later, he had nothing left but sore arms. So maybe the journey proved to be a bit longer than he had originally thought, but that was okay! He was doing something nice for a dearly valued friend! But his arms hurt so much.

By the time he managed to make the trek up Tommy’s driveway and unlock the front door, Gordon thought he was going to die. Good behavior be damned, he was never doing that again. He set the box down in the entryway of the house with a heavy thump and let out a sigh.

And then heard an even louder thump from another room, accompanied by the telltale sound of shattering glass and a muffled cry.

For a few seconds, it was possible that if more noises were coming from the house that Gordon just couldn’t hear them over the rushing of his heartbeat in his ears. His fingers twitched with anxiety as he stood frozen, waiting for something or someone to round the corner to meet him, weapon trained directly at his vital organs.

And then Gordon’s common sense took over, and he remembered what Tommy had said about his living situation. There was only one thing the source of the noise could have been. Well, several, but he would bet several figures that he knew the cause.

Sure enough, traversing somewhat cautiously into the living room revealed none other than Benrey, sprawled on the floor amongst the wreckage of toppled cardboard boxes and... well, Gordon actually couldn’t tell what the broken glass was.

“Yo,” Benrey said, as if his leg wasn’t twisted at an awkward angle and there weren’t shards of glass cutting into his—shit, was that blood?

Gordon said nothing at first, instead standing there gaping like a dying fish. The silence stretched between them like an elastic cord pulled tight enough to snap. Finally, he managed, “Are you okay?”

Benrey shrugged. “You scared the shit out of me,“ was his explanation, though it was almost hard to believe with his monotone drawl.

“I… guess we’re even then,” Gordon said, the shock of the situation slowly draining away into an internal battle of having to deal with Benrey versus how morally wrong it would be to just leave him there. Surely Benrey could deal with a cut leg; Gordon had seen him recover from so much worse without even blinking.

The slight hiss of discomfort coming from Benrey as he attempted to shift his leg was what interrupted Gordon’s moral dilemma, and finally let him close the distance between them to kneel down and inspect Benrey’s injury more closely. The other winced as Gordon brought a tentative hand to his skin, searching for signs of a broken bone as gently as he could.

“The fuck ’re you doing, loser?” Benrey grumbled, though the insult lacked the distinct smug apathy his tone usually carried. “Looking for an excuse to touch my feet? Huh, Feetman? You’re off a little bit there.”

“I’m trying to make sure you didn’t break your ankle,” Gordon snapped, and paused to take his glasses off and put them on top of his head for safekeeping. “Though I’m not even sure you could. Things like this don’t usually... happen to you.”

Benrey didn’t have a retort for that one. He was staring at Gordon with uncertainty, looking like a deer in the headlights. Upon realizing Gordon was looking back at him, he broke the gaze to stare down at the floor, hair falling into his face and partially obscuring his visage. “...’S weird. Shouldn’t have happened.”

Gordon didn’t comment, instead looking back down at Benrey’s leg and ignoring the large shards of glass embedded into the pale flesh for the time being. He knew a little about treating injuries by hand; having a kid with no sense of mortality and being an anxious parent practically required it. Once he was satisfied with his inspection, he let out a sigh, causing Benrey to cast a curious glance back at him through the corner of his eye.

“You just twisted your ankle, I think. You’ll be fine,” Gordon said, distinctly aware of every small movement Benrey made. “I’ll need first aid to deal with the rest. You know where it is?”

“Uh... no. Don’t need that shit, I’m—Big. Powerful. You don’t know what you’re dealing with here.”

Gordon stood up. “Fine. I’ll call Tommy.”

Benrey let out a noise of indignation that sounded suspiciously close to a whine as Gordon began to walk away, intent on looking for a broom to clean up the mess as he dialed Tommy’s number. It rang once, twice, and then Tommy answered with his typical cheer.

“Hi, Mr. Gordon! Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Gordon said with another sigh, and pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Yeah, everything’s great. Your roommate managed to trip and fall and almost break his leg and I’m not a terrible person so I’m gonna look after him, I guess, because that’s my life now. Where’s your first aid kit?”

Static crackled over the line as Gordon assumed Tommy was busy processing all of that. In the background, he heard a faint bark.

“That’s... not good. It’s uh—it’s under the bathroom sink, in the hallway downstairs. Is he okay?”

“He’ll be fine, don’t worry. I’ll try not kill him,” Gordon said with a dry chuckle, and then immediately regretted the dark joke as soon as it left his mouth. “I’m kidding. I mean—he’ll be fine. Thanks, Tommy.”

Gordon pulled the phone away from his ear and hung up before Tommy had a chance to reply, and set off in search of both broom and first aid kit. With some difficulty—what type of person put the broom next to the microwave, of all places?—he managed to return to the living room with both in hand, only to find Benrey halfway through what looked like an attempt to drag himself into a standing position.

“Stop, stop, you gotta chill,” Gordon said in a very unchill manner, almost dropping the objects he held as he hurried to make sure Benrey wouldn’t injure himself further. There were countless tiny shards of glass scattered around the two of them, surely digging into Benrey’s skin as he huffed unhappily and returned to a half-sitting, half-sprawled position.

“This is so—this is really sucks, dude,” Benrey offered, resting a hand on his good leg’s knee as Gordon shuffled near him and began to clean up the shattered mess. “Like, legit. Scale of one to ten, this one’s at least a thousand.”

Gordon merely hummed in response and continued in his work, letting Benrey ramble on until he was satisfied that the floor would no longer wage any surprise attacks if either of them tried to move. He then held out a hand, causing the other to draw to a halt and look at him with another vacantly curious expression.

“I can’t do anything unless you’re on the couch; my knees are too bad for that shit. And you’re in no condition to be walking anywhere. Upsy daisy,” Gordon said. Dimly, he was aware of how genuinely satisfying it felt to be able to rib Benrey back without the threat of impending doom. To just tease him like a normal person, or whatever Benrey was.

Benrey took his outstretched hand slowly, his skin a chilled contrast to Gordon’s own. He felt like an icebox where Gordon was a living furnace, and he almost jumped back at their contact. Gordon didn’t give him the opportunity though, instead securing a tight grip and hoisting him up and onto the sofa behind them before Benrey had the opportunity to apply weight to his ruined ankle.

Benrey seemed a little off put by the sudden movement, though with a lack of complaint about his leg Gordon assumed he hadn’t caused any further damage. Gordon worked as quickly as he could without botching the job, removing any stray shards he found before disinfecting the numerous cuts and scrapes. The biggest cut he left alone for the time being, wanting to make sure there was nothing left to be caught under the bandage when he finally applied it.

Benrey watched him owlishly the whole time, pupils darting back and forth to catch every movement of Gordon’s fingers. His curious regard of the situation was almost captivating in a strange way, until he broke whatever spell he had on Gordon’s mind by leaning forward with a slight smirk. “You even qualified to do this?”

“Yeah, I’ve done this sort of thing for my son before,” Gordon quipped, turning to grab another alcohol soaked cotton swab. “Quit squirming. You’re gonna make it worse.”

Benrey made a low noise in his throat that Gordon interpreted as another almost-whine. “So you’re equipped to deal with tiny… baby… smalls. You calling me a baby, then?”

“You’re definitely acting like one,” Gordon replied. Benrey’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, before the moment passed and he only grinned wider. The banter was mainly for the justification of teasing him back anyway—considering the depth of the wound gashed into his leg, Benrey was acting surprisingly calm. Besides the barely noticeable winces and the absentminded complaints, he was showing no other indication of pain so far.

Still, it was best to give warning. “This might hurt a bit,” Gordon said, and gripped the large chunk of glass securely before doing his best to extract it from Benrey’s leg as quickly as he could. Benrey squinted his eyes shut, and actually hissed as Gordon continued to poke around the area in an attempt to make sure he got everything.

Gordon applied the bandage next, brow furrowed in concentration. Above him, Benrey seemed to calm down some, and returned to his studying of Gordon’s every move. Gordon was so focused that he almost missed the way Benrey shifted so that he could stretch his arm out to brush his fingers against Gordon’s forearm, though the contact lasted for only a second before he let his arm fall slack again.

Gordon raised a brow. “Just… making sure you don’t fuck it up,” Benrey said.

The front door opened as Gordon made sure the bandage was secure. Behind them, Gordon heard Tommy rush to set down his keys and utter a worried, “Hello?”

“In here, Tommy,” he said in reply.

He was still knelt in front of Benrey when Tommy entered the room. Flushing a deep red, Gordon quickly moved to stand up, though Tommy was preoccupied with taking in the current state of his living room.

“‘Sup, dude?” Benrey asked, articulate as ever.

Tommy visibly paled. “Benrey! Are you okay? That’s a lot of—there’s a lot of blood on my carpet… And—and you.”

“Yeah, man,” Benrey said nonchalantly, eyes still trained on Gordon. “It’s all good. Gordon put it back in my body.”

“That’s not how that—okay,” Gordon said, suddenly feeling like he had done all he could for the situation. “Tommy, I am very sorry for whatever it is he broke. If it’s important, I’ll pay you back.”

“Oh no, it’s fine, it’s just some old—uh, science stuff.”

“It attacked me,” Benrey said. “Y’got… aggressive science. With rabies and stuff.”

Gordon rolled his eyes and turned to leave, only to find himself wrapped up in a hug from Tommy. The man’s arms were loose enough that he didn’t feel as if he were suffocating, and Gordon stood in indignant shock for only a moment before he was hugging back.

“Gay,” Benrey said.

“Thanks for… you know, helping,” Tommy whispered, clearly trying to keep Benrey from hearing. “It really means a lot.”

“It’s nothing,” Gordon replied awkwardly. He couldn’t see Benrey’s face, but he could practically feel the other’s gaze drilling holes into his back. “You would’ve done the same. I should probably—“

He was interrupted as suddenly a violent sneeze tore through him, echoing loudly as only a true dad’s could. Tommy stepped back and looked at him with an expression that vaguely communicated all of my friends are suddenly dying what do I dooo.

“Mr. Gordon! Are you allergic to Benrey?”

“Probably,” Gordon replied, sniffling. He sneezed again, and this time became uncomfortably aware of how scratchy his throat felt. “I’m allergic to something, at least.”

“Dogs,” Benrey said. Gordon turned to look at him quizzically. “Tommy just got home from the place where they keep ‘em. You started sneezing when he hugged you. You’re allergic to dogs, idiot.”

“That—” Gordon started hotly, then trailed off as he considered it. “...actually makes a lot of sense. Why am I only finding this out now? I’ve been around Sunkist.”

Tommy wrung his hands apologetically. “Because she’s perfect. Are—are you gonna be okay?”

“Yeah, just don’t hug me until you’ve had a change of clothes.”

“Okay,” Tommy said, then looked to Benrey. “How about you?”

Benrey gave him a thumbs up, and Tommy seemed to visibly relax. The man ran a hand through his disheveled hair, and it was then that Gordon noticed the dark circles prominent underneath his eyes. With a sigh, he made a decision.

“Why don’t you sit down, Tommy? I’ll order pizza or something.”

Benrey perked up at that statement, a slight tinge of color barely visible on his face. “You’re staying?”

Gordon shrugged in an attempt to look nonchalant, while on the inside he wondered if he had just made a very bad decision. “You’ll probably stress him out too much. Somebody pick a good movie on Netflix, I’ll be back.”

The chatter of Tommy saying many things to Benrey in a still worried tone provided ambient background noise as Gordon retreated into the kitchen, ready to order dinner for the three of them. He wasn’t sure if Benrey even ate, but he figured the worst case scenario was more leftovers to take home.

As he brought out his phone, his train of thought was interrupted by a soft chime. Puzzled, Gordon wondered who would be texting him, only to discover it was a notification from himself. A calendar alert, to be precise, one that he had set a week ago at Dr. Coomer’s house after he had managed to calm down and slip away into a quiet corner.

A gentle smile slipped onto his face as he read the guidelines from Past Gordon.

1. Drink water, don’t die.
2. Stop being a dick to your friends.
3. While you’re at it, be nicer to yourself.
4. Fold and put away your laundry.
5. Try that new pasta recipe you saw online.
6. Fold and put away your laundry!!!

Chapter Text

Tommy and Gordon were fast asleep long before the television shut off automatically.

They had been watching movies that were varying degrees of good for well into the night, eventually de-stressing to the point of being able to laugh openly at every badly done CGI shot and poorly delivered line. And eventually de-stressing to the point of falling asleep halfway through a scene of campy horror, reimagined with a background track of Gordon’s snores.

Which left Benrey alone, curled up in the same corner of the sofa he had claimed previously.

Tommy was in the middle, stretched out like a liquid and long limbs somehow managing to find their way into Benrey’s space no matter where he moved. His elbows were most likely digging into Gordon on the other side, but both men were out like a light.

Without the noise of the television and raucous commentary from his companions, it was quiet. The world felt as if someone had slipped a woolen blanket over it, trapping both light and sound in a different place far away.

Benrey didn’t mind the dark. He didn’t generally mind the quiet, either—contrary to popular belief he was capable of shutting up for extended periods of time. What he minded was when the two combined together, intertwined into a horrible dance as the universe pressed down against him with unimaginable weight.

It reminded him of too many things; vague shapes and sounds in his memory, things he would prefer stay locked away in his subconscious.

Currently, it wasn’t quite so bad.

Tommy sometimes spoke in his sleep. It was mostly incoherent mumbling, but Benrey would still respond with a murmured hum just to see if Tommy would continue. The most Benrey understood so far was something about a paintbrush, and a loaf of bread he needed to set on fire. All things considered, normal science stuff.

And then there was Gordon. So far, he seemed to be as deep of a sleeper as Tommy was, but Benrey wasn’t making an effort to communicate with him. He figured on the off chance that Gordon did wake up, he wouldn’t be too pleased.

What was interesting about Gordon was how… peaceful he seemed to be when he was asleep. He was twitchy, sure, and snored sometimes. But Benrey couldn’t remember any time back in Black Mesa that the man had looked so relaxed. It made his heart beat the tiniest bit faster. So, he remained curled up behind the barricade of Tommy’s legs for the better part of an hour, gazing at Gordon’s sleeping face.

Something in his mind slowly stirred, and told him yeah, Gordon would definitely have a problem with that one were he aware.

Humans were sensitive like that. Benrey personally didn’t care how anyone else perceived him. At least, not before. Nowadays, he hated seeing the way Gordon’s expression would change upon seeing him. He hated the way his voice would rise in pitch, aggravation present in every way he moved.

Teasing Gordon was one thing, making him angry was another. Benrey figured the best way to not make Gordon angry was to not be around him at all. It had worked pretty well for a while, at least.

When he first awoke after the end of everything, he had been bleary and confused, but for the first time in a long time wholly himself. He found Tommy by accident, searching for a sign of anything familiar. He didn’t remember their conversation, but Tommy told him the events of what had happened before, of killing him. Of death and the nothingness that came after.

And Benrey remembered feeling like a prisoner in his own body, his mouth saying words with his own voice. But they weren’t from him. The same intrusive force bearing the weight of his death, turning finality on its head to keep him alive.

He didn’t know how to convey any of that to Tommy, so he stayed silent. A burst of light tumbled unbidden from his mouth. Tommy seemed to understand when his words wouldn’t come. Tommy forgave him.

And that’s how things had stayed, until inevitably Gordon found a way back into his life. Even when Benrey was trying to be nice and considerate and good, he somehow fucked things up.

But maybe… fucking things up wasn’t so bad?

Back in the present, Benrey toyed with the bandage tied around his leg. It didn’t hurt so much anymore, now just a dull ache. The phantom feeling of Gordon’s fingers on his skin remained, burned into his memory stronger than the pain had ever been.

Tommy shifted in his sleep, moving his leg so it became less of a barricade and more of a hazard by poking directly into Benrey’s thigh.

“This is so not pogchamp,” Benrey grumbled to no one in particular, and began his attempt of climbing over Tommy’s unconscious body to safety beyond. He made it with few casualties—thankfully, Tommy was such a heavy sleeper that not even an atomic bomb could wake him.

It was Gordon who stirred at the sound of Benrey tumbling clumsily to the floor; the man shifted in his sleep and groaned like he was in pain. Benrey paused in his struggle of remembering how his limbs worked to toss a glance his way. It didn’t look like Benrey had actually woken him up, perhaps he was having a nightmare…?

As Benrey watched and slowly got to his feet, Gordon shifted again, mumbling hurried curses under his breath as he squirmed. Unsurprisingly, Tommy remained unaffected despite the fact that Gordon was growing more restless with every passing second.

Hesitantly, Benrey stood in front of the sleeping man and reached out a hand. He debated attempting to wake Gordon up, but figured if he did so Gordon would only assume he was the cause of his distress. Instead, Benrey moved his hand to tangle gently in Gordon’s hair, intent on pulling it free from the elastic the man had fallen asleep in.

As he did so, a burst of soft light fell from his mouth, washing the room in gentle blue that faded to a light gray before dissipating completely. Benrey froze, because Gordon’s soft hair was now framing his face and he looked so different and strangely private, like this was something that Benrey wasn’t allowed to see, and oh fuck, his eyes were now open.

Gordon gazed at him blearily, still mostly unconscious, and Benrey reached to pluck the glasses he had also forgotten from his face and place them folded on the side table.

“Go back to sleep,” Benrey said, voice a low rumble.

He turned away before he could see Gordon’s reaction, and disappeared into the hallway to hide upstairs. To hide from his problems, and his emotions, like he always did.

Pale light trailed after him as he went, a swarm of color illuminating the walls like a monument before it too faded.

Gordon awoke wondering if he even had a spine anymore.

With a groan and a disturbingly loud pop of his back, he managed to sit up and quickly discover Tommy still asleep on the other end of the sofa. Benrey, predictably, was nowhere to be found in the living room.

A quick glance at his phone said it was about 9 in the morning, which was much earlier than he would prefer to be awake. But when you accidentally fall asleep on a friend’s couch after marathoning one star movies, how picky about your schedule can you get?

Picky enough to be hungry, and so Gordon stood with all the energy of an old man and made his way into the kitchen. He was greeted by the missing Benrey, who sat crouched at the dining table with a cold piece of pizza in his hand. The three of them had completely demolished the first box of pizza they ordered, but the second backup was still mostly intact and open on the table.

“Did that ever get put in the fridge?” Gordon asked, rubbing at his eyes in an attempt to wake up fully.

“No,” Benrey said, and took a bite.

Gordon made a face. “Come on, dude. I guess I’ll make real breakfast. Go wake up Tommy and make sure he won’t have a problem with me using the kitchen.”

Benrey only shrugged and hopped down from his seat, pizza still hanging from his mouth. As he walked past, Gordon faltered when he noticed the elastic wrapped around Benrey’s wrist.

Now very aware of the hair cascading freely around his shoulders, he asked, “Is that my ponytail holder?”

There was no response. Gordon let out a sigh, left with the room to himself. He didn’t actually think Tommy would mind the intrusion, especially if he got free food. The request was more of an excuse to keep Benrey out of his hair as he worked alone with his thoughts. Still, he didn’t want to do anything too dramatic without the use of his own ingredients. Quesadillas would have to do.

But before that, prep work. Gordon took the time to properly store the leftover pizza and gather the boxes together to be thrown out, all the while hyper-aware of the sounds coming from the next room over. It sounded mainly like Benrey talking to himself, probably attempting to wake Tommy up. As Gordon opened a cabinet in search of a suitable pan, Tommy’s voice finally joined the fray, and the two entered into a muted conversation.

Gordon wasn’t… trying to listen in on them. But it was difficult not to when Tommy wasn’t aware of how loud he could speak, especially with sleep still fogging his brain. He heard them talk about the night before, and then Tommy said his name.

He was definitely listening in as the two continued to talk, going about his search at a snail’s pace so he could focus on the lines concerning him. It seemed like inconsequential bits and pieces, until...

“Mr. Gordon chose to stay, you know. We had… we had fun. That was fun.”

Gordon stilled, hand on the knob of another cabinet.

Benrey’s reply was quieter, one that he couldn’t quite make out. He almost sounded upset.

“Then try—try not to worry for now. You’ll have to tell him eventually, but I think you’re doing fine.”

Gordon hurried to look busy again as the sound of footsteps carried from the living room and into the hall, then disappeared upstairs. He let out a breath, continuing in his search for the pan. On the fourth cabinet, he found it, and pulled it out with a satisfied cheer.

Tortillas next, then—probably in the pantry. Gordon set the pan on the stove and turned around to be face to face with Benrey, who had entered the room without a sound.

“Jesus! Warn me next time!”

Benrey looked unaffected. “Get better ears,” he said. “Tommy says it’s chill.”

“Alright, good,” Gordon replied, and skirted around the shorter man in search of tortillas. Benrey returned to his previous place of sitting crouched like a gargoyle on a dining chair, knees pulled up to his chest. “You just gonna watch me cook, then?”

“Yeah, why not?” Benrey asked, tilting his head quizzically. Gordon was quickly catching on that this was a particular quick of his, a sign that he was actually listening for once and not just filtering everything said to him out like a radio ad.

Having Benrey’s genuine attention wasn’t something Gordon was sure he wanted this early in the morning, so he deigned not to ask about what Tommy had said for the time being. Instead, he recovered the tortillas and made a quick stop at the fridge for butter and cheese, then turned the stove on to preheat.

The sound of sizzling butter soon filled the air, though the silence overhanging it made Gordon squirm. “Where did Tommy run off to?”

Benrey didn’t respond at first, and Gordon wondered if he had already lost focus until he moved to rest his chin against his palm. “Getting ready for work.”

“Work?” Gordon asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Interview… volunteering… whatever. I forget which; it’s all the same. Tommy likes kids or something, wants to teach them. I said he should teach them how not to be clumsy… fail idiots. Gamer class. You graduate when you can do a real no-scope.”

“He’s teaching?” Gordon pressed, while simultaneously ignoring the comments about gamer class. He wondered why he had never heard of the topic until now. Then again, it made sense, considering the box of books that still remained in the entryway from Gordon’s delivery the day before. “Huh. I can see it. I just never guessed.”

“Not quiiite yet,” Benrey said, drawing out the word for much longer than any normal person would. “I think he’s worried you’ll like, judge him. For doing lame things with lame kids.”

“No, I’m happy for him,” Gordon said absentmindedly, wondering what else Tommy felt like he could tell Benrey but not him. It made his heart hurt the tiniest bit, a pang of envy surging through him before it was gone again. As he continued to stand there, the stove beeped.

Tommy returned by the time the quesadillas were done, dressed in a fresh change of clothes that thankfully were free of anything that would send Gordon into another sneezing fit. He accepted breakfast graciously, and when asked about his plans for the day smiled awkwardly.

“Gamer class,” Benrey piped up. Gordon handed Tommy a plate and purposely left Benrey’s on the counter.

“No!” Tommy said, amusement, or perhaps embarrassment, coloring his cheeks. “I’m just—I’m just taking my exams! I didn’t tell you or Mr. Coomer or anyone because I didn’t want it to be a—a big thing in case I fail.”

“Hey, you’re not gonna fail,” Gordon said, filling his own plate and pulling up a chair at the end of the table. “You’re gonna do great. We should totally… do something. Damn, I sound like Coomer.”

Tommy let out a laugh. “He’s going to throw a party when he finds out... I don’t want to make him—I don’t want him to be sad!”

Benrey eyed Tommy’s food in a way that was not entirely subtle. “Parties are… good cool. Eat marshmallows. Play Halo 7. I could fuck around with that.”

Gordon watched with eyes narrowed as Benrey attempted to steal Tommy’s quesadilla, only to be met with a firm but gentle hand on the wrist. “Halo 7 doesn’t exist.”

Benrey scoffed disdainfully, though Gordon couldn’t tell whether it was directed at him or Tommy. “Yeah? Like you would know. It’s uh… it’s some galaxy brain level shit.”

Gordon only ran a hand through his hair. It was too early for this. “Go get your food before I do, Benrey.”

Benrey hopped down from his perch and crossed the room warily. He returned with plate in hand and brow furrowed, keeping his gaze focused on anywhere but Gordon. “Yeah. Whatever. It’s like—it’s just condensed bread.”

Tommy was more appreciative. “You’re a good cook, Mr. Gordon! Where did you learn?”

Gordon smiled shyly. “YouTube videos, mostly. Josh is a pretty picky eater, and I mean I’ll eat anything, so I mostly picked it up for him. I didn’t want him to just eat processed stuff, and thankfully he actually likes my cooking!”

He paused in his ramble about Joshua to rub at the back of his neck, aware of the way both Benrey and Tommy were looking at him with varying degrees of curiosity. Gordon wasn’t great at talking about himself, but he was excellent at gushing over his son.

Tommy gave him a genuine smile, then cast a look down at his watch. “Oh—I gotta go, thank you for breakfast, thank you for staying!”

He was gone from the table in a few seconds, preoccupied with rooting around for the essentials. Once his keys were in hand and shoes on, Tommy peeked into the doorway once more.

“Stay as long as you like, okay? It’s good to—it’s good that you’re not isolating yourself.”

Gordon opened his mouth to respond, but the door closed with a slam.

“He do that a lot?”

Benrey was picking halfheartedly at his food. “Yep.”

Outside, the loudest bark that Gordon had ever heard sounded and caused him to jump. It was then that he realized there had been a noticeable lack of Tommy’s perfect dog around the house the night before. Whatever Sunkist had been doing, she was now home and more energetic than ever. Gordon’s head panged painfully as Sunkist barked again, clearly demanding the whereabouts of her missing master.

“I uh… I gotta go home and take a shower,” Gordon said, very much not wanting to be the victim of Sunkist’s apparent wrath.

Benrey looked at him listlessly. “Better run, bitch boy.”

Tommy hadn’t been wrong about Coomer’s excitement.

The moment the man had found out about Tommy’s plans to become a teacher, he sent out a mass text with preparations for a group meet-up, and said that it was of the utmost importance that Tommy didn’t find out. Thus found Gordon in the back of Bubby’s shiny Cadillac, Coomer chatting excitedly away in the front, and Benrey of all people next to him in the back. Gordon wasn’t even sure how Coomer managed to get a hold of Benrey without Tommy knowing, but so far it seemed their plan was safe as they sped down the highway at a dangerous speed.

Errands, Coomer had said. Part of the preparations. Gordon had absolutely no idea where they planned to stop or why, or if this was all some elaborate ruse to give Bubby the chance to break free and almost get them killed in a high speed chase.

Or perhaps a third option; an opportunity to ridicule him. Bubby glanced at his backseat passengers carefully, mouth twisting into a smirk. “You know you look like shit, right?”

“Yeah,” Gordon said, fully aware that the comment was being directed at him and not the dark haired anomaly of a person currently staring out the window beside him. “Yeah. Thanks for that.”

“Not to worry, we can fix that!” Coomer said, the tiniest bit of amusement coloring his voice.

“As much as I love and appreciate you both, is this really all so you could give me a magical dream makeover?”

Bubby threw him a wink. “No, not everything is about you. But that is part of it.”

And thus went the better part of their trip: Dr. Coomer and Bubby would see something that would catch their attention, Gordon would advise them to not make terrible purchase decisions that would get them in trouble with the IRS, Benrey followed them all like a wordless shadow. It was unlike him to be so quiet, but Gordon had a million other things on his mind that prevented him from thinking about it too hard.

The sun was beginning its descent behind the horizon by the time they pulled into the parking lot of a fancy looking department store, one that Gordon knew was way out of both his price and comfort range.

“No complaining,” Bubby said preemptively, taking note of the frazzled look on Gordon’s face. “You can pick what stores we go to when you have a car to drive us there.”

“Cool,” Benrey said, eyeing the brightly lit advertisements with what could almost be considered apprehension. “I’ll wait here.”

One member down, the three of them made their way into the expensive building. Coomer left them at the door with a comment about needing to visit Radio Shack, which Gordon was sure didn’t actually exist anymore. It didn’t stop Coomer, and now with two of them gone Gordon was left to the mercy of Bubby.

This entire trip had to be an elaborate ruse of a joke.

But Bubby didn’t make a show of teasing Gordon. He was as sharp-tongued as ever, but his barbs lacked any real bite. In fact, most of his comments were about the items in the store; as they browsed the aisles, Bubby offered varying levels of critique and praise. Gordon trailed behind him slightly confused, but intrigued by the enigma of understanding Bubby’s tastes.

Most of the shopping Gordon did was for groceries. Luxuries were something he bought on impulse, and clothes were not one of them. He didn’t dress particularly bad, or even sloppy. In fact, most of the time Gordon would say he looked pretty well put together. But he hardly ever found the need to add to his wardrobe. Browsing through clothes for the fun of it was new to him.

In front of him, Bubby pulled two identical looking sweaters from a rack. “What do you think, Gordon? Umber or walnut?”

Gordon squinted. “Uh… I don’t really see a difference?”

Bubby merely scoffed in response, and apparently decided on both as he added them to the quickly growing cart. It was all Bubby, of course—Gordon had taken one look at the price tag on a pair of shoes and quickly turned back.

“You’ll have to pick something eventually,” Bubby said, as if reading his thoughts. “I can give suggestions, but I refuse to be your style guide.”

“None of this is really… me,” Gordon said, gesturing at all of the designer brands advertised around them.

Bubby paused in his browsing, throwing Gordon a look before continuing. “So make it you. You think I had ever been shopping before?”

Oh.

Of course he hadn’t. The entirety of the world was new to Bubby, things that he had only imagined suddenly made real. Countless opportunities at his fingertips. If it were Gordon, it would’ve driven him mad.

“I never made that connection, no,” Gordon said, quietly enough that he almost prayed Bubby didn’t hear. He wasn’t quite so lucky.

“Do you ever think?”

Sheepishly, Gordon tried his best to look interested in a nearby clearance rack. “About what?”

“In general,” Bubby said, raising an eyebrow at Gordon’s choice before joining him in the investigation of the sale.

“That’s up for debate. Why?”

If Gordon had thought Bubby sounded exasperated before, it was nothing compared to the way he spoke now. “Why do you think Harold is so excited about all of this?”

Gordon faltered. “Because he’s—”

“Because he wants all of us to be able to move on,” Bubby said, finishing the thought before Gordon could say something completely stupid again. “He wants us to live. To make our own decisions without the influences of that hellish place. When’s the last time you decided to just do something without considering the opinion of your boss, or your co-workers, or whatever it is that went on in your life before everything went to shit?”

Gordon didn’t have an answer. Bubby continued.

“I do this because I want to. Because it’s new to me, and it’s something I enjoy. Shopping is—it’s fun, Gordon! I like feeling like a real human being instead of a serial number! And Tommy’s doing something for himself too, and Harold says that’s something to be celebrated. Who are we to say otherwise? Who are we to do anything but seize our moment and just… live?”

For a while after, Gordon still didn’t have an answer. The emotion that roiled within him was reflected on Bubby’s face, a living mirror of everything he wanted to lock away in a box forever and simultaneously shout from the top of a mountain. Eventually, he nodded. “I get it. I just… I don’t know when my moment’s gonna come.”

Bubby’s grin was all knives. “Go get yourself a pair of pants, Gordon.”

Gordon’s chest was tight as he walked away.

It was a good thought. It was one he agreed with—it was important to celebrate growth and healing, to take control and do things just because they made you happy. It was all he had been trying to do.

Gordon counted his steps as he walked through the store, trying his best to keep an eye out for something he found interesting. He soon lost count.

People were staring. Every eye was on him.

He was trying to be happy.

But despite everything, despite all the efforts of those around him, Gordon was still terrified. Pathetic, lonely, boring Gordon was left on the sidelines while everyone in his life moved on, recreating themselves to be something bigger than before, while he couldn’t even go shopping without having a panic attack.

He couldn’t breathe. People were laughing. His body ached, his breathing tight.

His footsteps carried him away from the numerous aisles and instead out of the store, out into the parking lot and into the safety of the car where no one could see him or judge him for what he couldn’t help behing.

Except Benrey, who turned to look at Gordon’s arrival, who once again was the sole witness of Gordon’s mental breakdown.

Gordon scrambled to find an excuse, head swimming. “I won’t be here long, Dr. Coomer sent me out to find this—uhh—thing! And I was wondering if it might be here in the car—“

Benrey held up a hand, interrupting Gordon’s tirade effortlessly. “Calm down.”

Surprisingly, Gordon did. Not instantly, but there was something about Benrey’s tone that brought him back down to earth. His eyes didn’t linger, instead almost instantly going back to the window he had been glued to the whole day. As if Gordon being an absolute mess was inconsequential.

It was the thought of being inconsequential that allowed Gordon to breathe again.

He climbed into the car with a ragged breath, but left the door open to provide a mental escape route. His knee was close enough to Benrey’s that if he moved a muscle they would most likely brush together.

“Look,” Gordon said after a few moments, unsure of the words he was searching for. His head still screamed at him, his senses on high alert; talking was a distraction. “So this is—this is obviously a thing. Like, you’re here, and you’re not going anywhere, so I think for the sake of my sanity we need to talk about some things.”

“So talk,” Benrey said.

“I’m… I’m trying. I didn’t really get a chance to plan this all out because I didn’t think that you would be so… present. I didn’t think I would have to deal with having you in my life. But so far it hasn’t been… bad?” Gordon idly twirled a lock of hair around his finger as he spoke, pausing to collect his thoughts before he continued. “I don’t really know what the fuck you’re talking about most of the time. But you’re not trying to set me off. And you’re not trying to kill me, which is an upgrade.”

Benrey made a low humming sound deep within his throat. “Are you saying you like me, bro?”

Gordon scoffed. “I’m saying that I think I’ve come to terms with your presence in my life, and that I can accept it as long as you’re not a huge asshole. And that… things are different now. I don’t want to be the same person I was in Black Mesa. So I guess I’m trying to start over. With everything. And that includes you.”

“Nice. Wanna hold hands about it?”

“No,” Gordon replied, at this point expecting Benrey’s absurd way of dodging serious topics. “Maybe later. Listen, I um—I heard you talking to Tommy. Well, I heard Tommy talking to you. And I know there’s things you’re not telling me. I’m gonna give you the benefit of the doubt and trust it’s not anything too horrible.”

Benrey was looking in his direction now, though Gordon wasn’t sure if he was actually seeing; he seemed busy processing everything Gordon had said. Eventually, he blinked like he was coming out of a trance, expression mildly confused. “Whuh?”

“You don’t have to tell me right now,” Gordon said, trying to search for a patience that he knew would have previously benefited him to have several times over. “But if this is gonna work, there needs to be some base level of trust going on. You’re gonna have to talk eventually. And I’m only saying that because I trust that Tommy would have already told me if it was something bad.”

“Yeah, it’s chill,” Benrey said. Gordon took that as an assessment of the situation as a whole, and tried his best to breathe a little easier. He still wasn’t fully comfortable around his strange companion, but it was a start.

It was enough that he could fall back into silence and lean his head back against the seat, a sudden wave of exhaustion washing over him. Bubby would most likely be in the store for a while longer, and he wasn’t sure he could handle a more in depth conversation.

Gordon closed his eyes for what he thought was only a second, and soon fell into a dreamless sleep. Benrey sat quietly next to him the entire time, a security guard no longer, yet guarding the safety of Gordon’s rest with a gently hummed tune.

Chapter Text

There were many things that came to mind when thinking of a party. The most obvious was the kind with loud music and cheap decorations, one you would spend way too much on and end up cleaning way into the night. Then there was the swanky, expensive party, the kind with live piano music and champagne people only pretended to like.

Gordon wasn’t really a fan of either of those. Thankfully, the Science Team’s idea of a party was more relaxed. Probably because Tommy had specifically requested something calmer, but still.

Gordon was okay with this kind of party.

The five of them—he had to do a quick count to make sure that number was correct, but all were present—were crowded around a small table in a back corner of some dive bar that Gordon couldn’t remember the name of. Muted lights and ambient conversation provided a gentle enough background that for once he didn’t feel that he had to escape as soon as he possibly could.

Coomer had invited them all there to celebrate. Tommy had passed his exams with flying colors, just as Gordon thought he would.

“It wasn’t that bad,” he was saying now, red-faced after a few too many shots. “It was exciting, really. I think the scariest thing is going to be coming up with my own rules. I like—I prefer it when I have a strict guideline to follow, y’know?”

“You could probably find some sort of template,” Gordon said, doing his best to be helpful despite not really understanding the fine details of what it was Tommy even had to do. “Maybe online or something?”

“The world wide web is a teeming well of infinite information, Tommy,” Coomer added, nodding sagely. “And if you can’t find anything helpful to you, you’ll always have the good advice of your friends.”

Tommy offered a hearty laugh, then shot a pointed look in Bubby’s direction. “I—I don’t think they allow pyrokinesis in class; that’s not… that doesn’t sound OSHA compliant!”

Bubby only scowled, fingers curled around his half-empty glass protectively. “Well I don’t see why not. How to deal with fire hazards is an important skill for kids to learn.”

Coomer patted his shoulder. “Being the fire hazard isn’t quite as common of a problem, Bubby dear.” The smile on his face was gentle, though Gordon couldn’t tell if the smug twinkle in Coomer’s eye was his imagination or not.

“Then they need to upgrade their kids!” Bubby said hotly, prompting another guttural laugh—this time from Gordon, who couldn’t deal with the absurdity of the idea of upgrading a person like they were an after school experiment.

Of course, it made sense for Bubby’s line of thinking. But that didn’t stop Gordon from hiding more giggles behind his hand as Bubby tried to inflict psychic damage upon him in the form of a glare.

As Gordon continued, Coomer began to chuckle as well. Bubby stood up from the table with an overdramatic aura and a loud screech of his chair. “I’m going to get another martini,” he announced.

Beside him, Benrey toyed with the same drink he had been since they had first sat down. He seemed slightly out of place amongst them, slightly too quiet. But he held a smirk of his own as he inclined his head toward Gordon and said, “Make sure you get one for him too. Extra… alcohol. I wanna see him on the floor.”

Maybe it was the alcohol he had already had that made Gordon find the comment funny instead of just something to brush off as token Benrey behavior. But he only laughed harder, tears forming in his eyes as he gestured vaguely towards Benrey’s still full glass. “What do you mean? You’ve barely touched yours!”

“G-Gordon has a point,” Tommy said from in between the two, slightly intoxicated himself. “I don’t think that’s fair until you’ve at least downed yours.”

Benrey looked like he would be okay with anyone else in the world ganging up on him, as long as it wasn’t Gordon and Tommy. Gordon raised an eyebrow.

“What’s wroooong, Benrey? Can’t handle your own game?”

“Yeah!” Tommy exclaimed, clapping his hands together. “Come on, chug!”

Bubby was already long gone by the time Tommy started chanting, “Chug! Chug! Chug!” It didn’t take long for Gordon to join in. Benrey cast a helpless glance in Coomer’s direction, as if looking for some sort of guidance.

“Now Benrey, I would never encourage the act of peer pressure,” Coomer said, interlacing his fingers and placing both elbows on the table. “But this is a celebration, after all! It would be a waste to not enjoy yourself a little, hm?”

“Oh I’m… I’m great,” Benrey said, though the scowl on his face looked as if he could’ve been taking lessons from Bubby himself. “I’m more than great. Stuff tastes great. Yeah I—I know all about it, alcohol. Love it.”

“You’ve never had a drink in your life,” Gordon paused in his chanting to say, causing Benrey to whip his head toward him with an intensity that would’ve been alarming were he sober. “It’s okay, dude. You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“Nope, uhh… no. You’re wrong, and I’ll prove it,” Benrey replied, finding a grip on the glass just as Bubby found his way back to the table. The four of them paused to watch Benrey bring the glass to his mouth, then tilt his head back and down what was probably way too much of the liquor within. For a few moments, he seemed okay, then brought his hand up to his face to hide either the cough that racked his body or the burst of light that fell from between his fingers.

“Gross!” Gordon said, as Bubby reclaimed his seat with another martini and a brand new bottle. “Don’t do that in public!”

“Die?” Tommy asked helpfully, and provided Benrey with a friendly pat on the back as he struggled to regain his breath. “Dying isn’t good in any scenario.”

“Nope—I’m… I’m fine, uh… what was even in that shit?”

Bubby raised an eyebrow. “You’re the one who ordered it. Maybe this will be more your style,” he said, and set his cocktail down to grab Benrey’s glass and fill it with the contents of the bottle—now that it was in full view, Gordon recognized it as an irish cream.

Benrey eyed the new drink dubiously.

“Perhaps we should offer a round in honor of our Tommy,” Coomer said, grabbing the bottle after Bubby was done and pouring himself a shot. “Don’t worry, this one’s far sweeter.” Gordon was next, and then Tommy, smiling. Together, they raised their glasses with a small clink and a cheer, causing Tommy to turn beet red with a bashful grin.

“Thanks, everyone,” he said, and downed the shot. “This stuff is like—it’s not… it’s not even that bad?”

Bubby merely sipped his martini. “The hard stuff’ll come later. Benrey might still get his wish.”

“It’s important to drink responsibly,” Coomer said. “That’s why I’ve been appointed as your designated driver. And gift giver!”

As Coomer spoke, he bent down to reach into the bag he had placed next to himself in a way that Gordon supposed was meant to be inconspicuous; though it was anything but. He pulled out a small book, wrapped in leather, and placed it on the table.

The book he then offered to Tommy, and as it passed Gordon he realized it wasn’t a book at all. It was a schedule planner, and looked to be handmade. Tommy took it with wide eyes, fingers feeling over the cover with a sense of wonder that radiated from every part of him.

“Did you make this, Mr. Coomer?”

Coomer smiled, eyes warm. “I’ve been trying out new hobbies. I figured you could use something to keep you on track in the coming months. I hope it serves you well. Oh! But let’s not forget…”

He trailed off to reach into the bag again, this time pulling out an unlabeled box. This one he offered to Benrey, who took a few seconds to realize it was something he was supposed to take.

“What’s this?” Benrey asked, as if expecting another alcohol trap.

“Open it, genius,” Gordon said, and rolled his eyes.

Benrey did as commanded, though hesitantly. When the lid of the box came off, he held up a cellphone, head tilted to the side curiously. It wasn’t particularly new, but it was hardly outdated—Gordon was actually pretty sure it was a newer model than his own phone. In the back of his mind, he remembered Coomer’s comment about a trip to Radio Shack, and scoffed in disbelief at the notion that the man had actually found one.

Coomer folded his hands as Benrey continued to inspect the device. “I’m assuming that since he all but appeared out of the void, Benrey had no easy way of contacting us! I decided to fix that problem.”

There was something on Benrey’s face that Gordon wasn’t used to seeing, even though his strange behavior was starting to become the new norm. He looked surprised, almost as if he didn’t know what to make of the situation. Most likely, he had never been given a gift before.

The thought tugged at Gordon’s heartstrings, briefly.

Tommy looked overjoyed. “I can help you set it up when we get home!”

For a moment that seemed to drag on forever, Benrey didn’t respond. Gordon wondered if his mind had simply ceased working until he shifted and set the phone down gently, staring directly down at the table in front of him so his expression was mostly hidden from view. “I can uh… I got it. Th—thanks.”

So, he was capable of saying thank you. Gordon smiled despite himself as he observed the scene, then turned to Coomer with a joking quirk of his brow. “Wow, nothing for me?”

“You’re wearing yours, jackass,” Bubby replied instead, and motioned towards Gordon’s prosthetic hand. “You know I’m going to patent it? I expect full royalties delivered by mail, monthly.”

The howl of Gordon’s echoing cackle could be heard across the building.

Coomer turned out to be more than their designated driver.

By the time they decided to leave the bar, it was late into the night. Gordon, Tommy and Bubby were all well past drunk, and Coomer packed them into his spacious vehicle with the care of a father who knew from the start how fucked up his kids would be. Benrey ended up amongst them somewhere down the line, though Gordon couldn’t remember when.

Tommy had passed out as soon as he was in the car, and Benrey didn’t know their actual address or how to give directions on how to get there. Gordon caught merely bits and pieces of his and Coomer’s conversation, too focused on trying to keep his head from spinning at the same time as trying to keep Tommy from drooling on him.

After a short time considering their options and a mild complaint from Bubby, Coomer decided to let them all stay the night at his own house. He was the main force behind making sure they all got inside safe and sound, between several trips back and forth to the car and practically supporting Tommy’s weight all by himself.

Some minutes later, the fruits of Coomer’s labor ended with Tommy passed out on the couch, Coomer retiring to his own bedroom with Bubby’s hand clamped tight in his own, and Gordon alone in the guest room. Alone, until the door creaked open quietly.

Gordon was in the middle of trying to untangle the elastic band of his ponytail from his hair when Benrey stepped into the room, looking somewhere between lost and found. Gordon regarded him curiously for a few moments before he went back to the task at hand, eventually letting out a hiss of satisfaction as he secured the band.

“Having a bit of trouble there, huh?” Benrey asked, voice quiet in the dead of night. Gordon responded by stretching it between his index fingers and launching it directly at Benrey. It hit him square in the forehead, though he caught it in hand before it hit the ground.

“Nice,” Gordon said, and flopped unceremoniously down on the mattress.

“Don’t congratulate yourself, loser,” Benrey’s reply came from the other side of the room, and soon he entered Gordon’s field of vision to discard the elastic on the nightstand alongside Gordon’s glasses. “Fuckin… anyone could’a made that shot.”

“I think that’s more of an insult to yourself,” Gordon said with a snort of amusement, and stretched his arms out on the pristine sheets. They felt strangely manicured against his skin, nothing like his own worn out sheets back at his apartment. It was the kind of feeling he got whenever he visited a hotel, like he was only a temporary visitor in the canvas of life, and soon he would fade away into obscurity while newer, more exciting people took his place.

Life imitates art, or whatever.

The bed dipped as Benrey sat on the edge of it, causing Gordon to look at him curiously out of the corner of his eye.

“What are you doing?” The question was bordering on unintelligible as Gordon slurred his words through a mix of tiredness and intoxication, though Benrey seemed to understand him as he twisted his body to be able to look down at Gordon directly.

“Someone’s gotta keep an eye on you,” was his only explanation. Gordon laughed. He didn’t even know if he meant the question in regards to Benrey’s closeness, or in a broader sense.

“I think I’ll be okay,” he said, cheeks flushed and voice light. He looked away from Benrey to stare at the ceiling instead, limbs sprawled out freely. “Don’t waste all your guarding talent on me. There’s gotta be like… at least six other things in this house that are worth more than me.”

“Yeah? Sizing them up so you can—so you can steal them, huh?”

Gordon chuckled. “The fact that I don’t want to aside, I don’t think Coomer would let anyone steal from him.”

Benrey let out a breath that sounded like a laugh of his own. “Nope. You’d probably get your other hand lopped right… right off. Boom. What’re you gonna do then, huh? Sell your hand? I guess that would be worth more than—worth a lot. Black market stuff.”

“That almost sounds like a complement. Almost.”

“Yeah, whatever. You wanna kiss about it?”

Gordon considered this for a moment, slap-happy smile still stuck on his face. His brain felt too fuzzy to even try and deconstruct the meaning behind Benrey’s rambling, much less come up with a good comeback. “What if one day I just… I just agree? Y’got anymore lines planned for that?”

Benrey made a low humming noise, one that Gordon felt he was starting to grow familiar with. He didn’t know what it meant, but he hoped it was a sign they could have something close to a genuine conversation instead of a meaningless back and forth. Benrey leaned closer to him as he thought, and brought a chill hand to rest on Gordon’s forehead.

Gordon looked at him lazily. Benrey’s expression was unreadable, strands of auburn hair curled within his fingers.

“What?”

“Just… making sure you’re good,” Benrey said, eyes glinting in the low light. There was a faint flush to his face, though Gordon couldn’t remember him actually joining in on the group’s drinking. “You’re acting all weird.”

“I’m drunk, dude.”

“It’s weird. Stop it.”

Gordon groaned, and jerked his head away from Benrey’s hand to roll over with a mock sigh. In reality, he was still amused, wanting to giggle like a schoolgirl over everything the dark haired man said, but the last bit of control he had over his brain stopped him from doing so. “Okay! I see I’m not wanted here. Goodnight, Benrey.”

Benrey didn’t respond, but in a few seconds Gordon felt the bed shift as he stood back up. With the newfound peace and quiet, sleep began tugging at his brain almost immediately. It was surprisingly comforting, and when he was just starting to slip into unconsciousness, the bedside lamp clicked off.

Gordon awoke to the beating of his own heart and a dull light.

The second thing he didn’t notice at first. He was too busy being distracted by the first thing—lost in a struggle to regain his breath, temple slicked in sweat, fingers clawing at the sheets underneath him like they were trapping him there. He didn’t remember what his nightmare had been about, only that he needed out.

As Gordon slowly came back to his senses, he noticed the second thing. The room was no longer pitch black, instead lit by a gentle glow coming from the left of him. Blearily, he rolled over to face it, and found Benrey curled up in the chair by the wardrobe, phone in hand. The light was coming from the device’s screen, illuminating his face in a gentle glow.

“You good?” Benrey asked, tone uncharacteristically soft.

Gordon looked from him to the clock on the nightstand, which read 4:57 in big red letters. He swallowed thickly, mind still racing, and held out a hand as if reaching for a lifeline. “C’mere.”

Benrey was motionless. “Huh?”

“Don’t make me say it again,” Gordon said with a groan, words scratching like sandpaper against his throat. “Please.”

The light blinked out as Benrey shut off the phone, and the only sign that he was even still there was a soft shuffling noise as he stood up and crossed the room. Then, the bed dipped as it had before, and Benrey was lying awkwardly next to him, and Gordon was left to wonder what strange force had possessed him to ask Benrey of all people to be so close.

But the simple truth was that Benrey was the only one who seemed to be close by when he needed someone. Gordon didn’t know if this was some cruel joke the universe was intent on playing on him, but in the moment he was too tired to care. If the punchline was to be delivered eventually, he would face it when he could sleep through the night.

In the dark that his eyes hadn’t quite adjusted to, he couldn’t quite see if Benrey was even facing him. But no more words were exchanged between them, and he didn’t have any more opportunities to dwell on it as he forced himself to close his eyes.

Gordon spent the rest of his time awake trying to match his breathing to Benrey’s, soft breaths slowly coming easier as he took comfort in the fact that he wasn’t alone for once. There was no other sound in the room beyond the gentle reminder that there was an actual living person next to him, something to ground him in reality should the nightmares come again. Eventually, he managed to fall asleep once more.

When Gordon woke up for the second time, the room was filled with early morning light. He sat up with a stretch, back popping pleasantly, and froze upon remembering last night’s hazy decision.

For once, Benrey was still there; lying face down on the mattress next to Gordon, dark hair splayed across the pillow. He was close, close enough that Gordon was sure if he moved a muscle their shoulders would end up brushing together.

Surely, Benrey would then move and look at Gordon smugly, and give him some sort of infuriating comment that would spoil his morning as he tried to come up with a well thought out response. But nothing ever came, and as he continued to watch the slow rise and fall of Benrey’s breathing he realized the other was fast asleep.

Still, it didn’t stop him from slipping out of bed as quickly and quietly as he could. His clothes were rumpled and he had a headache that was probably slowly killing him, but he would much rather face the scrutiny of the others downstairs than stay long enough for Benrey to wake up and catch him staring.

The moment Gordon stepped foot into the stairwell, he was greeted by the scent of freshly cooked bacon. The sound of sizzling oil met his ears immediately after, causing an on spot war between his stomach and hungover brain. Stomach won out, and he descended the stairs to the kitchen to see Coomer cooking away, spatula in hand and apron secured around his body.

Bubby was at the table, skimming through a newspaper and nursing a black coffee. Tommy was nowhere to be found, and Gordon presumed him to still be stretched out on the sofa. It was strikingly similar to the night he had spent at Tommy’s house, and he started to wonder if it was the sort of scene he would be seeing a lot around the Science Team. No one seemed to mind the random intrusions, all taking turns crashing at a different house like they were a family straight out of a sitcom.

“Good morning, Gordon!” Coomer greeted him, earning simultaneous pained groans from both him and Bubby.

“Hey, Dr. Coomer,” Gordon said weakly, and took a seat next to Bubby. There was already a partially filled plate in front of him piled high with pancakes, and the open carton of eggs on the counter showed that Coomer had no intention of stopping the breakfast train anytime soon.

“You’re definitely prepared,” Gordon commented, and picked up the accommodated fork to poke curiously at a pancake.

“Not quite prepared enough! Will Tommy and Benrey be joining us anytime soon?”

“Uh… Tommy will probably be dead to the world unless you wake him up, and I—I don’t even know where Benrey is.”

“Nonsense, Gordon,” Coomer said, not even bothering to turn around as he continued in his watch of the frying pan. “I saw him sneaking into your room last night. You’d be a fool to pretend otherwise.”

Gordon turned beet red as Bubby lowered his newspaper to fix him with a scrutinizing look.

“Geez, you make it sound so much worse than it is,” Gordon stammered, and nervously ran a hand through his hair. “There wasn’t really anywhere else for him to sleep.”

“Oh, so you’re admitting he was there,” Bubby said, pausing to take a sip of his coffee. “I don’t judge. Well, I do, but it’s good that you two are getting along.”

“We’re… something, I guess,” Gordon said, not quite sure how to describe it himself. On top of the fact that he didn’t want to openly admit he couldn’t sleep alone, it was nearly impossible to unravel his feelings on the thing his relationship with Benrey had become.

No longer breaking down on just seeing his face was an improvement, but there was still hesitation that stopped Gordon from truly opening up every time they talked. There was always some sort of guard in place, some way to protect himself in case Benrey reverted back to the emotionless, murderous asshole Gordon had originally thought him to be. And Gordon had no idea how to remove that guard.

At least, not while he was sober. Apparently his drunken self had no qualms about hanging around Benrey.

Coomer offered both him and Bubby a healthy serving of bacon before returning to the stove to crack a few eggs. “I assume you slept well? Aside from the hangover, of course! But that’s nothing a little breakfast can’t solve.”

Gordon mumbled a reply, face still hot from Coomer’s earlier comment. “It was alright. And I’ve had worse hangovers, though I might need to take a nap later.”

Bubby was still looking at him intently, lips curled into a dangerous smirk. “Sure you’ll manage by yourself?”

“I—” Gordon started to protest, but was interrupted by the sound of footsteps from the stairs, and of course Benrey would take that moment to wander into the kitchen looking just as tired and sit across from Gordon wordlessly. He didn’t look at any of them, just reached out to steal a piece of bacon from Gordon’s plate and pop it into his mouth.

Bubby’s grin never left his face.

Thankfully, Gordon’s phone rang not long after. He excused himself from the table quickly, and stepped out into the dining room to answer.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Gordon,” the clear voice of Joshua’s mother said. “I just wanted to confirm things were going to be okay for Joshua to stay with you next month?”

Gordon blinked, then nearly dropped his phone as he remembered May was quickly approaching. Joshua stayed with him through the summer, starting from the end of May, and he hadn’t even been thinking about it.

“Mila! Yeah! Yeah, no, things are uh… it’ll be fine. How is he?”

“He’s fine,” Mila responded, and there was a crackling of the line as she presumably held the phone away from her mouth to speak to their son in the background. “Really misses you. He wanted to ask if he could still come himself, but I figured it would be best if I did it instead. You haven’t seemed like yourself lately. Are you sure you’re alright, Gordon?”

Gordon stilled, only halfway listening to the sound of muted conversation coming from the kitchen. On the phone, he heard Joshua’s small voice ask something he couldn’t quite make out, and couldn’t help but smile at this new definition of family. They were a strange group, fit together like old puzzle pieces, but the people he had in his life now he wouldn’t trade for anything.

“Yeah, I’m alright. I think I’m finally starting to be.”

Chapter Text

Gordon was beginning to understand Benrey.

At least, he was pretty sure of it. Patterns were a thing he picked up on without intending to, and though Benrey was probably the most unpredictable person Gordon had ever met he still had habits that were easy enough to see, if you were paying attention.

Benrey talked a lot. At his most comfortable, he would ramble about nearly anything, with slow words and pauses to process his own thoughts. He wasn’t good with words. His emotions and thoughts didn’t translate well into speech, so he talked about other things, but his intentions could be picked up on if you treated him with patience and care. He was much more observant than he let on, and curious about things he didn’t know how to ask questions about.

When Benrey was upset, or stressed, he would still talk—a defense mechanism to fill silence, maybe. His words would come faster, and he would trip over himself, all the while still making an effort to communicate. There were also periods of time where Benrey just wouldn’t say anything. Gordon assumed this happened when Benrey was most upset.

Benrey didn’t know how to deal with his emotions, good or bad. When they were bad, he would lock up completely, become unapproachable and unreadable. When they were good, it was easier, but he still couldn’t express himself well. More than anything he seemed to long for companionship, which was probably why he spent most of his time following Gordon around under the pretenses of whatever new and quickly concocted excuse he had that day.

Understanding Benrey also came with the price of Gordon understanding himself.

He didn’t particularly like thinking about himself; he was much more of a people-watcher, which came hand in hand with being a people-pleaser. Gordon preferred his efforts were spent making sure he was treating those around him as best he could, and leaving the soft and vulnerable parts of himself in a corner where no one could find them.

Unfortunately, the best way to know someone was to open up to them. It was a mutual decision, a two-way street that required effort from both parties. So reluctantly, when Gordon noted something new about Benrey he had never really thought of before, it often came with an observation about himself as well. It was that, or Benrey would make some surprisingly spot-on comment that hurt his pride to hear.

One: Gordon talked more than Benrey did. He hated silence. He would talk to fill space, just to make sure others were aware of his presence. He would play music almost every hour of the day just to keep up a consistent background noise.

Two: Gordon hated being alone. This tied in with the first, and also with the fact that every time he was around someone else he could breathe a little easier. Most of the things he listened to were podcasts, just to hear other people talking and feel the faintest clutches of a companionship he had spent years missing out on.

Three: This was all very, very bad.

The loneliness Gordon found in Benrey resounded wholly with the one he felt in himself. Benrey was strange, unexpected, and different from Gordon in ways that he would never be able to psychoanalyze. But there were similarities, too. Similarities that rang far too loud to ignore.

It had been over two months since Benrey had found his way back into Gordon’s life, and if you had asked Gordon then what he thought he would be doing in the future his answer would have been as far from the truth as it could possibly be. The truth being that he now spent most of his time talking to Benrey over the phone, engaging in easy conversation and incessant teasing.

He couldn’t remember who had originally started the exchange. But after the night at Coomer’s house, something had changed. Some line had been crossed that Gordon didn’t even know had been there. Somehow, Benrey had his number, and somehow they talked almost every night. Somehow, the low rumble of Benrey’s voice made it easier for him to sleep. That one, he would never admit.

Four: Gordon didn’t know how to deal with his emotions, either.

Aside from their conversation at the mall, the two of them had never… spoke about feelings. Gordon had never outright said he liked Benrey, or even that he tolerated his presence. Things just gradually got easier, until one day Gordon noticed that he wasn’t looking for some excuse to leave every time he found himself alone with Benrey.

Five: Gordon actually did like Benrey.

He legitimately enjoyed the dumb jokes, and though the teasing could be exhausting it still made him laugh. He liked the fact that someone out there could put up with him for extended periods of time and would still choose to actively seek him out. He liked the fact that when he looked at Benrey, he didn’t feel so left behind in the race of life.

All of this was the hardest to admit. And yet, it was all Gordon could think about.

In the golden hour of a Friday afternoon, Gordon lay stretched out on his apartment’s sofa, legs dangling limply over the side. His phone was on speaker, perched on his chest while he idly flipped through an advert magazine delivered to him that day. The contents weren’t anything interesting, though he wasn’t reading them closely enough to give a fair judgement.

Benrey, of course, was on the other end of the line talking about something that Gordon only recognized a few words of at a time. It wasn’t that he was trying to ignore Benrey, just that his mind wasn’t focusing on any of the stimulus in front of him—everything was hazy and out of reach. Until he caught the words “spoon” and “zappy”, and he followed Benrey’s train of thought like the kids in the fairytale followed the bread crumb trail.

“Do not put spoons in the microwave,” Gordon said, in the same tone he would use to scold a misbehaving pet. Or a misbehaving alien with a questionable moral compass? “Or anything else metal for that matter. Seriously. Bad time.”

“Come oooon,” Benrey’s reply came with a drawn out whine. “It’s like… speedrunning the cooking time. It’s heating things up extra. Less work.”

“I literally do not know how you came to that conclusion, but it’s still wrong. And dangerous.” Gordon pinched the bridge of his nose as he spoke, knocking his glasses askew. “Look, if you’re that desperate for something that tastes good just come over here for dinner.”

“Gay of you,” Benrey said with a snort, at the same exact second that Gordon realized yeah, he basically did just invite Benrey over for a dinner date. “Worried about my health an’ all that. Wanting my company. I can’t—I can’t believe you.”

“I’m worried that you’ll burn down Tommy’s house while he’s not there.”

“That’s fair,” Benrey said with a light laugh that definitely did not bring a smile to Gordon’s face upon hearing it. “But I mean… I dunno. You uh, you serious?”

With no hesitation, Gordon said, “Yeah, why not. Let me text you my address.” And did so.

He didn’t give himself time to lament the fact that sometimes he just didn’t think before he spoke, and instead ended the call with a rushed goodbye after he saw the text was successfully delivered. Gordon didn’t mind Benrey’s presence, at least most of the time. He was easier to be around when he couldn’t invade Gordon’s personal space directly. But he wondered what Benrey would do with the newfound information of exactly where Gordon lived.

Never mind the fact that he didn’t even know what to make. He had pretty much only ever seen Benrey eat junk if given the choice, though he never turned down someone else’s cooking. It could be that he genuinely wasn’t picky, but in a way that only made things worse for planning meal prep.

If Gordon just threw something easy together, it would make him look like a bad host. (Even though Benrey probably wouldn’t even care.) If he went too fancy, it could be taken in a weird way, rushing off into territory he wasn’t quite sure he was comfortable with yet.

Wait, yet?

Mentally scratching off that last word, Gordon tossed the magazine to the side and stood up with a pop of his back. He had a few old cookbooks in the kitchen, left over from when he still lived with his family. The biggest setback would probably be making sure that he had ingredients for everything—he hadn’t been to the store in a while.

Gordon figured he could think over it as he got up to do the dishes and whatever else needed to be done. The best thoughts always came when his hands were busy, and considering he didn’t particularly like doing housework it was the easiest way to kill two birds with one stone. Still lost in thought, he set his phone on the counter, turned on some random Spotify playlist, and got to work.

...And apparently zoned out for half an hour straight, because when he came to at the sound of a loud knock he was no better prepared than he had been at the start, aside from the fact that there were now no more dishes to be done. Gordon put the last plate away to finish drying, and went to open the door to greet Benrey.

All things considered, Benrey looked surprisingly nonchalant for the fact that he had made it to Gordon’s apartment in what was surely record time. Gordon would believe it if he was told that Benrey had sprinted the entire way. They both stared silently for a few seconds, sizing each other up until Benrey raised a hand in greeting and said, “Y’just gonna stand there like a feral little man?”

“Oh, yeah,” Gordon mumbled, and stood aside to let Benrey move past him.

There was now no turning back, he had invited Benrey into his home and surely Benrey was some kind of vampire—Gordon was most likely going to end up on the news after having his life force drained. But Benrey just stuck his hands in his pockets and gazed around Gordon’s apartment curiously, obviously waiting for him to do something.

“I didn’t think you would get here so fast,” Gordon explained, and tried his best to forcefully restart his brain.

Benrey looked at him, before his eyes quickly dropped to the floor. “Yeah, well. It’s pretty shit at Tommy’s. He’s busy like… all the time. I’d rather uh, rather put up with your dumb ass than be bored.”

“And here I was thinking you just came for the free food,” Gordon quipped back. Apparently the system restart was working. “Don’t you have Sunkist to keep you company?”

“Mm, no,” Benrey said, following Gordon as he moved into the kitchen once more and pulled a pot from the cabinet as a quickly made decision. “Usually with Tommy. Or off doing… whatever. Gamer dog does gamer dog stuff. What are you doing?”

“Starting dinner,” Gordon said in reply, ignoring Benrey’s close proximity for the time being to instead begin assembling ingredients. Since he had much less time than he thought, something simple would be best. “If you have any complaints about pasta, you’d best speak up now.”

Benrey didn’t respond; instead he pulled a stool from the nearby counter and dragged it to be almost in the way before he took a seat and crossed his arms. Gordon tossed him a raised eyebrow, wondering if his habit of doing things on the very edge of being infuriating was calculated or pure dumb luck. He didn’t get a response to that, either.

And so Gordon began cooking without input, sometimes skirting around Benrey to grab something or just asking him to hand things over outright—if he was going to sit practically in the middle of Gordon’s kitchen, he could at least be useful. Every time Gordon happened to chance a small look in his direction, his attention seemed focused solely on Gordon himself.

It didn’t seem particularly introspective or judgmental, just a lazy focus on his presence. Still, it brought a slight flush of heat to Gordon’s face. He made a great effort to keep concentrated on the several tasks at hand, unwanting of the conversation that might be sparked if Benrey noticed him looking for too long.

However, pasta didn’t take long to make; cooking ended without incident, and soon Gordon ushered Benrey over to the bar counter—there wasn’t enough room in the apartment for a full size dining table. Benrey came to rest beside him only after being threatened about not just stealing noodles off of Gordon’s plate, and when he sat down he was so close that their legs were touching. Gordon froze at the contact, halting his thoughts in their tracks completely.

“When’re you gonna teach me how to do cool shit like that?”

“Huh…?” Gordon asked eloquently, before slowly coming to the conclusion that Benrey meant cooking. “You’ll probably pick things up if you keep watching me make dinner the whole time. Are you complimenting me?”

“I dunno. Are you saying that I can just watch you do it whenever I want?” Benrey shot back, looking overly smug while Gordon mentally smacked himself for letting the implication slip.

“Not if you’re gonna sit in the middle of my kitchen and get in my way. Shut up and eat.”

The meal was… actually, pretty good. Gordon wasn’t one to pat himself on the back, but he was happy with how the dish turned out considering he basically threw it all together at the last minute. Benrey seemed pleased enough; though he didn’t offer anything close to vocal praise, he was actually eating instead of picking half-heartedly at his food like Gordon often saw him do.

They finished dinner in an awkward but companionable silence, and as Gordon got up to put the dishes in the sink to clean he tried very hard to ignore the way he could feel Benrey’s eyes upon his back. Over the noise of the faucet, he could just barely hear the other’s footsteps wander aimlessly around the living room, most likely taking the time he had with Gordon’s back turned to poke around.

“So was this like... a date?” Benrey suddenly asked, causing Gordon to almost drop the plate he held under the running water.

No, is what Gordon meant to say. What came out was, “What did you want it to be?”

“Hmm,” Benrey said, and then for a longer period of time, “Hmmmm. Was kinda shit for a date, bro. Didn’t even learn anything about me.”

Now finished with the dishes for the second time that day, Gordon wiped his hands dry on a towel and adjusted his glasses carefully. He then hesitantly turned to find out whatever Benrey saw fit to get into under no supervision, which was apparently running a finger through the light blanket of dust covering the TV stand. Gordon internally cringed for not having made an effort to clean his apartment.

“Isn’t the point of dates to learn about your partner?” Gordon asked, and refrained from commenting on the fact that he had learned much about Benrey just by being near him. He also refrained from letting his mind equate Benrey to date, though that one was significantly harder.

Even when Benrey was sitting still, he never completely stopped moving. He usually had to be doing something with his hands or he would fidget nervously, and often played with his hair to keep himself distracted. If he was still for too long, Gordon would catch dimly recognized glimpses of teeth slightly too sharp or eyes that seemed to reflect the overhead light.

Gordon knew that Benrey wasn’t human; he had said it himself when they first met. But it was still never something he expected to see firsthand.

“I know all about you, brooo,” Benrey said after a while, and promptly flopped down on the couch like he belonged there. “Lame-ass. Sad and lonely dad… nerd.”

“Alright, wow,” Gordon said, following Benrey over to the living room with raised eyebrows. He wordlessly moved Benrey’s legs out of the way before sitting down himself, resigned to the fact that he probably couldn’t get rid of the dark-haired menace even if he asked nicely. “I make you food for free and you insult me.”

“Only spitting straight facts, lol.”

“Did you just say ‘lol’ out loud?” Gordon asked incredulously. Benrey made a face.

“Fine,” he said. “Tell me your whole life story, then. Not like I can’t predict it. I just think it’ll be funny to hear it direct. Little… little streamer man starting from the top.”

“Little streamer—what? Oh,” Gordon said, spending a moment deep in confusion before he realized that yeah, he did mention his dreams of becoming a streamer back in Black Mesa. He just never expected anyone to remember. “That never really happened. I got some parts ordered for my computer and everything, I just… didn’t end up doing anything with it.”

“Figured,” Benrey said under his breath, and then shifted so his feet were pressing directly into Gordon’s leg. He gave a small shove. “Why not? You scared?”

“Maybe,” Gordon mumbled, surprised by his own honesty but not at all surprised by Benrey’s behavior. “Entertaining a bunch of people is kinda… It’s kinda asking a lot. I don’t know if I’m that interesting.”

“Probably not,” was Benrey’s brand of encouragement. Gordon would have rolled his eyes, but then Benrey leaned down to grab the old PS3 controller off the coffee table and wave it around with a triumphant smirk. “Soooo you gotta practice. Let’s go. You and me. Full uh, full gamer mode.”

The controller was being handed to him. Gordon swallowed nervously—the prospect of trying to entertain some random strangers and maybe getting laughed at, he could probably handle. Entertaining Benrey, just talking? He had done it before, but within such close proximity the task was suddenly one of the most daunting things he had ever been faced with.

What an idiot he was. Gordon Freeman—the one who had trekked through hell and back and had a hand lopped off along the way, afraid of judgement from the one who actively made an effort to judge him regardless of what he did.

“I don’t even know what to play. I’m not much of a console guy.”

Benrey took the controller back with a noise of dissatisfaction and turned on the console. Gordon watched as he scrolled through the installed games, heat spreading from his face all the way to the back of his neck. “Yo! You got Drag-On Dragoon three!”

“Wha—Drakengard? Really?”

“Whatever. Shadow of the Colossus! Let’s go.”

Gordon let out a surprised chuckle, and took the controller when it was offered to him again. He supposed Benrey’s apparent excitement was good—at least he wasn’t judging Gordon’s taste in games. As the game started up, he asked, “You know anything about this one?”

“Not a clue,” Benrey replied honestly. It only made his excitement more amusing.

“Alright, it’s like…? It’s a spiritual successor, but you don’t really need to know much about it going in.”

Benrey listened attentively as Gordon continued to explain the bits of knowledge he knew about the game, falling silent when a cutscene played and then picking back up again while he roamed the open world. Talking was surprisingly easy, and though Gordon had doubted himself at first he found a smile on his face as the night continued on.

Two weeks later, and Benrey was often at Gordon’s apartment more than he would like to admit. It was another unspoken pact between them—something about loneliness. Gordon understood, and didn’t complain when Benrey darkened his doorstep. At least, he didn’t genuinely mean the complaints he had.

Two weeks later also meant that it was finally the day he had to go and pick up Joshua for the summer. Gordon was overjoyed at the prospect of his son staying with him again, and slightly less so at the idea of introducing him to the Science Team. He was sure they would all love him, but they were a rowdy bunch and Joshua was a shy kid. He didn’t often speak to anyone besides his parents.

Which was why Gordon explicitly told Benrey that he would be busy all day.

[11:03 AM] yo y tho
[11:04 AM] giving up on ur epic friend beny?

Gordon sighed as he turned the key to start the rental car. It was a bit of a spur of the moment decision, but it hadn’t cost much. On top of the fact that he didn’t want to force Mila to drive all the way to his apartment, he really didn’t want to explain to her why he was still missing a more permanent vehicle.

[11:09 AM] No, I’m going to pick up my son. It’s a couple hour drive and he’ll need time to settle in.
[11:10 AM] Just do what you normally do all day. You’ll be fine.

[11:11 AM] ya k
[11:11 AM] oh shit 11/11 lol
[11:11 AM] i wish gordon was nice to me

Gordon so badly wanted to let him know that wishes only came true if you kept them secret. Ignoring the fact that he was nice to Benrey all the time, Gordon started the trip to the halfway point Mila had given him with a relatively clear mind and music that was only occasionally interrupted by more texts from Benrey.

All things considered, a short road trip was exactly what Gordon needed to clear his mind of the thoughts that had been plaguing him as of late. Most of them revolved around Joshua and keeping his son safe from any dangers that could potentially arise if the wrong people heard that he was in town, but some of them were about… other people. Gordon was sure he was only being paranoid anyway.

Traffic got bad around an hour in. By the time Gordon pulled into the parking lot of the playground, he was twenty minutes late. It didn’t take him long to spot Mila’s car; the woman was leaning against it with her arms crossed as she observed Joshua play giddily in the park beyond.

“Mila!” Gordon called as the car door slammed behind him, causing her to turn curiously. She didn’t look upset, but she didn’t look particularly happy either. “Sorry. Got stuck behind a freight truck.”

“I figured,” Mila said, tone flat with the same professional manner she generally had. It still made Gordon flinch. “Joshua! Your father’s here!”

Joshua came running in record time, barreling across the grass and into Gordon’s waiting arms with all the force a five year old could muster. It was enough to knock the wind straight out of him, and he took the time Joshua spent babbling on about his day to recover his breathing.

“...And then I colored a cowboy picture!” Joshua was saying, talking about the rare playdate he had with a friend from school.

“That’s great, buddy,” Gordon said, genuinely grinning as he broke the hug to stand up straight. “You should show me your art sometime, yeah?”

Joshua nodded sagely, and the three of them began loading what little belongings he was bringing into Gordon’s car. Since he stayed through the summer, most of his weather-appropriate clothes and toys just stayed at Gordon’s apartment, untouched and safe throughout the year in the little room off to the side. Still, there were a few things Joshua had to bring everywhere, such as the soft fuzzy blanket he had been given by his grandparents when he turned two.

He wrapped it around his shoulders like a protective cape, watching as Mila made sure his carseat was well adjusted and then turned to give him a hug of her own. “Be good for your dad, alright?”

“‘Kay,” Joshua replied, letting the hug last a few moments longer before he disconnected and climbed into the car. “I want chicken nugget! Bye, mom!”

Gordon could only laugh. “Maybe tomorrow, bud. Got a long drive ahead of us.”

The sun was blazing overhead when the two made it back into town. Joshua had fallen asleep about halfway through the trip, and was only now beginning to blink himself awake as the car changed pace from the open highway to sprawling suburban streets.

“Almost home?”

“Almost. What do you want for dinner tonight?” Gordon asked, casting a glance in the rearview mirror before returning his eyes to the road.

“Chicken nugget!” Joshua said, waving his hands excitedly as Gordon pulled into the parking lot of his apartment complex.

“Tomorrow, Josh. We can meet some friends then, too,” Gordon said, and immediately let out a groan as he noticed the figure sitting on his front steps. “...Or now, I guess.”

Benrey didn’t look particularly surprised to see the car roll to a stop in front of him, though Gordon supposed he probably didn’t recognize it. He was also preoccupied with his phone, staring down at the screen as he tapped it. Gordon’s own phone chimed next to him as he turned the car off and opened the door.

[5:46 PM] where u

“Right in front of you, idiot,” he said, causing Benrey to snap his head up and make a sound that sounded vaguely like woooah. “I told you I was gonna be busy today.”

“Thought you were lying,” Benrey offered. Gordon rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, sure. At least help me get some stuff inside if you’re gonna be here.”

“Who is that?” Joshua’s small voice piped up, while Gordon stepped from the car and then opened the back door and got to work unbuckling his son. “A friend?”

“Yeah, a friend,” Gordon said, though even after all they had been through together the word felt strange on his tongue. He wasn’t quite sure how he would describe Benrey to other people, but pest felt like a good start.

Joshua hopped out of the car once free and immediately hid behind Gordon’s leg, almost tripping him in the process. Benrey observed the interaction from a safe distance, while Gordon’s pulse began to quicken at the fact that Joshua was here, in the flesh, mere feet away from Benrey.

“It’s alright, Josh.”

“Yo, little Freeman,” Benrey said, raising his hand in greeting. Joshua only clung tighter, blanket still wrapped around his shoulders. Thankfully, he let go when Gordon tried to move, but still looked unsure about the idea of social interaction. Benrey crouched down to Joshua’s level, still perched on the stairs. As Gordon watched, he offered the child a smile, one so genuinely friendly and sweet that it almost made Gordon’s heart stop beating. “What’cha got there, huh? Cowboy blanket? Cool.”

Joshua blinked, and then looked over his shoulder as if having forgotten the blanket was even there. In the span of a few seconds, his demeanor changed completely, and he ran forward to show Benrey the article more closely. “I love cowboys! They’re really… cool! I’ve had this for a while.”

“Sick,” Benrey said.

“Introduce yourself, Josh,” Gordon said gently, trying to reinforce the idea of manners as best he could.

“I—I’m Josh,” Joshua said, unsure of himself but still clearly excited at the prospect of meeting someone who shared his interests. “What’s your name?”

“Benrey.”

“Benny,” Joshua said. Benrey let out a snort of amusement. “Benny!”

“Close enough,” Benrey said, standing back to his full height as Joshua ran between him and Gordon. The arm that wasn’t securing the blanket was stretched out wide, and he was making a noise that sounded vaguely reminiscent of an airplane flying overhead. “What’s got you so worked up, old man?”

“Just never seen him warm up to someone so fast,” Gordon replied, stepping back to give Joshua a clearer path as his son zoomed past him and into the parking lot. “Josh! Careful! Ah—since you’re here, I guess you get a say on dinner too. It can be your reward for helping me move his stuff.”

Benrey tapped a finger against his jaw. “Chicken nuggets.”

Gordon merely sighed.

Chapter Text

If there was one thing Gordon could say he honestly missed about being a kid, it was the seemingly boundless source of energy. Joshua woke him at seven on the dot, rising with the early rays of light that were streaming in through the window. Even after way too much time past his bedtime spent clinging to Benrey like his own personal playground, Joshua was as bright and chipper as ever.

“Dad!” Joshua cried at deafening volume, bouncing into Gordon’s bedroom and onto his chest with reckless abandon.

Gordon barely had time to let out a strained gasp of pain before Joshua was gone again, leaving behind only silence and the still-hurting impact he had made. There were only a few precious minutes Gordon had to scrape himself from the edge of unconsciousness before Joshua came hurtling back, and with a great deal of complaint from his muscles he slowly managed to get up.

Gordon often wondered why his son could keep a better schedule than him, but he had never been one for particularly early mornings. Being out of a job only made matters worse.

The living room was peacefully quiet as Gordon stepped out into the hallway—Joshua had halted in his early morning exploits to examine the sleeping Benrey, comfortably curled across the sofa. Gordon didn’t remember inviting him to stay the night, but he figured Benrey would do as he pleased regardless of what Gordon had to say about it.

“Let him sleep,” he mumbled quietly, guiding Joshua into the kitchen with a gentle hand on his shoulder. The gesture was more for Gordon’s own peace of mind than Benrey’s sake—considering he hadn’t already been awoken by Joshua’s volume, he wasn’t likely to regain consciousness anytime soon.

“Is Benny gonna be here forever?” Joshua asked, taking a seat for himself at the counter without Gordon having to tell him to behave.

Figuring a large quantity of coffee would be needed to have that discussion, Gordon began his search as he tried to come up with a response that wouldn’t break Joshua’s heart. “Not… quite. He lives with a friend most of the time.”

“Like me?” Joshua asked.

Pot, coffee, water. Gordon set it aside to heat up as he opened the fridge to search for creamer and something for breakfast. Cereal was an easy option, something he could do on autopilot. “He comes and goes when he wants to.”

Joshua said nothing else about Benrey, perhaps sensing the slight edge to Gordon’s tone. Or perhaps he was too preoccupied watching breakfast be made for him with curious eyes. Gordon poured Joshua a small bowl of cereal and nothing for himself, opting to drink his coffee in peace and not test his stomach with anything solid.

The lack of sleep between them both seemed to already be taking a toll, as Joshua had slowed down to a more manageable pace upon starting his breakfast. He still glanced around the apartment, most likely mapping all the details that had changed since the time of his last visit. Finally, he looked at Gordon, who gave him a small smile back as he tried to keep from nodding off.

“Why does your hand look like that?” Joshua asked out of nowhere, pausing with the spoon halfway to his mouth.

Gordon nearly choked. He couldn’t blame Joshua for asking the question; he was naturally curious and loved to learn. Being asked about his new… appearance was almost a guarantee, but somehow all the reasons he had thought to give disappeared out the window when he was actually faced with the question.

“It’s—I… got a new one,” is all that came out. It was fumbled and messy, but if Gordon wasn’t capable of giving a clean and detailed answer he would at least offer his son the truth. White lies done in the name of preserving innocence were still just lies, and honesty was something hard enough to come by.

“Okay.” Joshua smiled at him through a mouthful of cereal, all childlike wonder. He didn’t understand, but he would accept anything his father said in a heartbeat. Gordon took a slow sip of his coffee, bursting with love for his son.

Thankfully breakfast ended without any more hard questions or unwanted nausea, and Gordon posed the idea of visiting Tommy as he washed the dishes. Joshua perked up at the idea of another friend, and threw a meaningful look toward the still silent living room. “Benny’s still sleepy.”

“Alright,” Gordon said, turning off the faucet. “Go and get changed while I wake him up.”

Joshua nodded and hopped down from his spot, and quickly disappeared down the hall and into his room with the same velocity he initially had upon waking up. A day outside would probably do him good by wearing off his excess energy, and Gordon knew he could use the fresh air himself.

Upon crossing the room for closer inspection, Gordon found Benrey still very much asleep. He was laying on his stomach, face obscured from view by a mass of black hair and fingers brushing the carpet where his arm was hanging off the edge. Gordon put a tentative hand on his shoulder, suddenly feeling very awkward.

Voice barely above a whisper, slightly afraid of the other actually hearing, he said, “Benrey.”

Benrey showed no sign of response, slow breathing continuing on rhythmically even with the added pressure of Gordon’s hand against his back. The hand that moved curiously from his shoulder to the nape of his neck and then to his temple, and Gordon, like a fool, ran his fingers through the dark hair there.

It was soft if not slightly tangled, and Gordon had a sudden urge to brush through it to see how it would look fully tamed and styled. It was intriguing to play with hair that wasn’t his own, and even more so to imagine Benrey looking like he hadn’t just crawled from a sewer. Gordon continued with his small movements, capturing new strands between his fingers and tucking them behind Benrey’s ear to expose his profile.

He looked… strangely forlorn while sleeping. It tugged at Gordon’s heartstrings, made him want to brush that frown away as gently as he brushed through Benrey’s hair.

Benrey shifted then, and lazily swatted Gordon’s hand away from where it had come to rest on his cheekbone. Gordon pulled back as if he had been burned, although Benrey didn’t seem to actually be aware of the soft touches he had been receiving moments before. He looked mainly like he would keep on sleeping if left unchecked, and so Gordon tried once more to wake him with a hand that didn’t wander.

“Come on, get up. You don’t wanna disappoint Josh, do you?”

The answer was a muffled groan, and with some more light prompting Benrey rolled over onto his back to gaze up at Gordon blearily. He wasn’t fully conscious, expression soft and unguarded.

“Gordon,” was all he said.

“Yeah?” Gordon asked in reply, watching as Benrey slowly inched closer to the edge of the couch, coming dangerously close to falling on his head with every breath. “Let’s head over to Tommy’s, okay? You probably need a change of clothes.”

Probably was meant more as definitely, though even with Benrey’s disheveled appearance Gordon couldn’t find it in his heart to be mean to him so early in the morning. Most likely he would regret the kindness later when Benrey found some new thing to tease him about, but for now he provided small mercies while he received another incoherent mumble.

And then Benrey seemed to remember where he was. In an attempt to sit upright he actually did tumble backward and onto the floor, and for a moment Gordon was afraid he had injured himself until he twisted around and landed on all fours like a cat. The fondness his sleepy expression had previously shown was gone as he got to his feet, replaced with his usual apathetic air.

“I don’t, uh… Don’t need new clothes. I’ve got the best gamer fit, you’re just jealous,” Benrey said, voice rougher than usual. Gordon rolled his eyes.

“You’re just saying that so I’ll leave you alone. We still need to go regardless; Josh wants to meet the rest of the crew and you can’t stay here forever.”

“I can’t?” Benrey asked in genuine confusion. At the same time Joshua reappeared from his bedroom in a fresh outfit, preoccupied with trying to button his jacket until he noticed the presence of his new favorite person.

“Benny!” Joshua said, racing across the room and into Benrey’s side. “You’re up! Help?”

He gestured vaguely to the buttons he had been struggling with, and on command Benrey knelt to Joshua’s level to help clasp them securely. If it weren’t for the sappy mix of emotions Gordon felt at Joshua actually getting along with someone and Benrey doing what he was told, the sting of his son ignoring him would be felt a lot deeper. He must’ve had a big dumb smile on his face, because as soon as his jacket was secure Joshua leaned to whisper something into Benrey’s ear and then pulled back with a giggle.

“What are you two conspiring about?” Gordon asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing!” Joshua said.

“Uhhh no—yeah, nothing,” Benrey said, a sudden flush clearly visible on his face as he met Gordon’s eye. “Don’t worry about it. It’s fine.”

“Don’t teach my son to lie,” Gordon reprimanded, though there was no real bite in his tone. He gestured the two of them toward the door, knowing that Joshua would only get antsy if they waited around. Tommy was most likely already awake, but he paused in the entryway to send him a quick text as Benrey shot back his well thought-out masterpiece of a comeback.

“He started it.”

Tommy was already outside when Gordon pulled up. Standing on the front porch with a stack of mail in his hand, he turned to give a wave in the car’s general direction before pointing to the back of the house and going inside. He reappeared just as Gordon finished helping Joshua out of the backseat, this time with Sunkist padding behind him.

“Tommy!” Benrey called loudly, gravel crunching underneath his feet as he half-jogged up the driveway to meet his friend. Sunkist barked happily in response, but obediently waited behind her master when Tommy paused to let Benrey approach.

Gordon trailed behind at a slower pace, inhibited by Joshua’s insistence of clinging to his pant leg. He ruffled a hand through his son’s hair gently, then reached down to link their fingers together. “It’s alright. You like dogs, right? Sunkist is very soft and nice. She won’t hurt you.”

Joshua still seemed hesitant, but seemed to believe him as he watched Benrey crouch down to scratch Sunkist’s ears and receive a sloppy lick to the cheek in response.

“I was wondering where you snuck off to,” Tommy was saying to Benrey as they approached, amusement keeping his tone light. “I guess I should’ve—should’ve guessed, huh?”

“C’mon, man,” Benrey whined in reply, still carding through Sunkist’s fur while her tail wagged fast enough to power an entire city. “You don’t gotta be so… uh, judgy. I can hear the judging without even looking at you. Judger.”

“I’m not!” Tommy said, throwing up his hands as a sign of truce. “Honestly—Hi, Mr. Gordon—I’m glad you guys are hanging out. I feel bad for being so busy all the time. I mean, Sunkist is—she’s pretty independent. She’s okay.”

“I don’t mind taking him off your hands for a while,” Gordon joked, ignoring Benrey’s indignant mumble of Bro, I’m right here. “At least Josh seems to like him.”

“I like Benny,” Joshua echoed next to Gordon, then faltered when Tommy’s gaze landed on him. “And… doggies. Can I pet her?”

“Of course,” Tommy said, smiling warmly. “Her name is Sunkist. And I’m—I’m Tommy. You’re Josh?”

Joshua nodded shyly, slowly creeping forward until he came to a stop in front of Sunkist. The dog easily dwarfed him in size, but she was gentle and most likely used to children. Tommy gave a short whistle, and she obediently laid down so Joshua could run a curious hand over her head.

“Soft…” he said in wonder, trailing off to move his pettings to her ears.

“The softest,” Tommy agreed, offering a hand to Benrey to help him to his feet as Sunkist’s attention was now fixed solely on Joshua. “Do you guys wanna come in and have… have a drink or something?”

Gordon nodded, and together they headed inside with Sunkist trailing lazily behind them. Tommy ushered them through the hall and out back to the patio outside, shaded from the sun under a large awning. Soft music was playing from a small speaker resting on the table.

“I have, uh… lemonade,” Tommy said, hand resting against his chin as he thought about the contents of his fridge. “And water.”

“Water’s fine, thanks,” Gordon said, taking a seat at the table while Sunkist stretched out near his feet. Joshua followed her, sitting on the ground with his side pressed up against hers and her tail wagging happily. Gordon half expected to see Benrey there with them, but he had seemingly disappeared without notice during their trip through the house.

Tommy ducked back inside for only a minute before he came back with an unopened bottle of water and a small cup for Joshua, both of which he set in front of Gordon before taking a seat across from him. Joshua looked like he had already mentally tuned out of the boring adult conversation, and so Gordon focused on Tommy as he opened the bottle.

“How’s work going?”

“Oh! It’s been pretty… pretty good,” Tommy said, scratching at the back of his neck. “I’m mainly just shadowing right now. And running a bunch of errands for my other volunteer work—I’m usually pretty busy. But it’s nice to be occupied. I just—I just feel bad for Benrey.”

“Seems like it,” Gordon said, taking a small sip of water and trying not to be obvious about the fact that he basically did nothing productive, and had no idea what it was like to feel busy anymore. “I wouldn’t worry about him. He’s been practically glued to my side as of late. It’s weird.”

Tommy offered a knowing smile, though there was still kindness in his eyes. “What’s weird about it? He does seem to like being around you more… I guess it’s not surprising.”

“I don’t know. He does nothing but give me shit all the time, and yet is so nice to you.”

“Probably because… I’m nice to him?” Tommy asked, and Gordon nearly choked. He didn’t get the opportunity to refute as footsteps sounded behind him and the patio door slid open with a quiet thud, and then suddenly his personal space was being invaded by the topic of conversation himself.

“Huh?” Benrey asked, leaning over the side of the chair in a way that put him way too close for comfort. His mouth was near Gordon’s ear, breath ghosting over him as he reached for the bottle that Gordon was holding. If Gordon moved even a tiny bit to turn and look at him, they would probably end up touching. “Bro, gimme a sip.”

“Get—get your own,” he said, hoping no one else noticed the small stutter as he held the bottle out of Benrey’s reach. The effort only worked against him as Benrey leaned further over to grab it, practically falling into Gordon’s lap with how far he was stretching.

“Just a tiny biiiit. C’mon, don’t be so mean. You’re so… selfish.”

“Alright! Fine,” Gordon said, relenting mainly because he was scared he would spontaneously combust out of embarrassment otherwise. He handed the bottle over with a small sulk. Satisfied, Benrey claimed his prize and brought the bottle to his lips while Gordon tried to ignore the fact that it had been touching his own mouth mere moments before.

Across from them, Tommy made a small humming noise—the kind he often made when he was thinking about something. Gordon blushed deep red and took the bottle back from Benrey after a ‘small sip’ turned into approximately half of it.

“Anyway,” Gordon said, clearing his throat. “Aren’t Coomer and Bubby supposed to show up?”

“Yeah, I let them know you were coming already.”

Benrey slid into the chair on his other side as Tommy spoke, and it was only then that Gordon noticed his absence was to change clothes. At least he… thought? He was wearing the same pants, and the old hoodie was so similar in color to what he had been wearing yesterday it was hard to see a difference.

“Do you only own like two outfits, Benrey?” Gordon asked skeptically, prompting a laugh from Tommy.

“Wha—? No,” Benrey said, glancing down to inspect himself as if he had forgotten what he was wearing. “I have… so many cool outfits. So many.”

“I offered to give you some of my old stuff,” Tommy said. “But you wouldn’t—you didn’t take it!”

“Stop—Don’t rat me out, brooo,” Benrey said, then looked toward Joshua and Sunkist with a pleading expression. “Help me out, little man.”

Joshua, who hadn’t been paying attention the entire time and was instead preoccupied by the feature length film he was writing in his head to keep himself entertained, merely blinked. Sunkist stretched next to him, tongue lolling.

Benrey’s savior came in the form of a rapidly approaching car, stopping Gordon from continuing to tease him. Bubby’s driving was unmistakable, and sure enough, within the minute Coomer’s voice was echoing throughout the house in a loud greeting.

“We’re out back!” Tommy called out.

The two scientists emerged a few seconds later, hand in hand. Coomer was carrying a plastic-wrapped bowl in his free hand, seemingly filled to the brim with pineapple, watermelon, and other fruit.

“Hello! Fine day for a picnic, isn’t it?”

Bubby wore a proud smile. “Picked and cut fresh from our garden,” he said as Coomer put the fruit down.

Gordon was dubious. “You have pineapples in your garden? In this climate?”

“Maybe you could too if you opened your mind to the possibilities, Gordon.”

“Now, now,” Coomer said, cutting in between them with the same poised gentleness Gordon had come to expect from him. “Bubby may be right, but that’s no reason to bicker about it. Oh! I think proper introductions are in order.”

Bubby turned to follow Coomer’s gaze, seemingly taking notice of Joshua for the first time. He was shyly leaning into Sunkist, unsure of how to react to all of the new people he was meeting. Gordon leaned to give him a reassuring pat on the head.

“I’m Harold Coomer,” Coomer said, offering Joshua a firm salute since he wasn’t close enough to shake hands. Gordon fought back a low chuckle at the sight. “And this is my partner, Bubby.”

“Bubby?” Joshua asked curiously, apparently not deeming the older man worthy enough to give a nickname off the bat like he had with Benrey. That, or the name was just easier to say.

Bubby gave him a quick nod, then turned to Gordon. “He’s certainly an upgrade from you.”

Gordon merely rolled his eyes. “At least I have a base to improve on.”

Beside him, Benrey gave a low whistle, before moving to let the other two in around the table. They quickly settled into a friendly banter, peppered with questions about life and hobbies that Gordon didn’t really have answers to. He remained silent for the majority of the group discussion, instead sneaking Joshua pieces of fruit every so often when his son tugged at his sleeve.

The weather was nice enough that he couldn’t ignore the urge to lean back in his seat and shut his eyes for long. The sound of Coomer and Tommy chatting jovially about grading papers kept Gordon aware enough that he could respond if anyone said his name, and so he quickly succumbed to the fatigue of not getting a good night’s rest, the kind not even coffee could fix for long.

And then a distant shout caused Gordon to jerk awake. Disoriented and on edge, it took him a few moments to notice that the sun was noticeably lower in the sky. The table was empty save for himself and Bubby, who was casually flipping through a book of unknown genre. At Gordon’s return to consciousness, Bubby gave him a slight nod.

“Sleep well?”

“I… didn’t even realize I had dozed off,” Gordon said. His throat felt like he had swallowed cotton. “I was supposed to be watching Josh.”

“I think they’ve got that covered,” Bubby said, and gestured out toward the yard.

Tommy and Benrey were throwing a ball back and forth while Sunkist ran between them excitedly, and Joshua seemed more intent on following her than joining in on the game. Coomer was acting as goalie, catching the ball and tossing it back whenever it was thrown too far.

The shout had come from Joshua, and now that Gordon was paying attention he recognized it as a cry of excitement. Sunkist let out a short bark, hurtling forward into Benrey’s legs and nearly knocking him over with her anticipation to join in on their play. Tommy collapsed into a fit of giggles, still holding the ball, and Sunkist rushed forward to smother him with messy dog kisses.

“That’s cheating!” Benrey complained once he regained his balance, pout apparent on his face even from the distance Gordon was watching.

“I didn’t tell her to do it!” Tommy shot back, still laughing. He then reached up and tossed the ball in a high arc, sending it sailing over Benrey and Joshua who both unsuccessfully tried to reach it as it went past. “Now that’s cheating.”

The one who caught it was Coomer. The whole scene happened too fast for Gordon to tell, but it seemed likely that some Extendo-Arm cheating was involved from him as well. Coomer cracked a grin, and tossed the ball—much more carefully—back for Joshua to catch.

They all looked so incredibly happy. Together, Gordon and Bubby both sat watching them run rampant around the yard, expressions soft. The scene was so touching that the only thing that managed to tear Gordon’s eyes away was a yawn working its way from his throat against his will.

“Rough night, huh?” Bubby asked, the usual bite of his snark toned down to a tolerable level.

“Yeah. I should probably get more coffee or something.”

“It won’t kill you to take a nap, Gordon.”

Gordon opened his mouth to protest, words about being an attentive father already rising, but Bubby just held up a hand to stop him before turning the page of his book. “Do you seriously think I would let anything touch a hair on that kid’s head? Do you think any of them would?”

As Gordon looked back, Joshua still had the ball. He was running for his life with it clutched in his arms while Coomer pretended to chase after him, Sunkist close behind. A pause to toss the ball in Benrey’s direction ended up being his downfall as Coomer quickly scooped him up, roaring like a monster in a cheesy horror film while Joshua squealed happily.

“We must press F for our fallen gamer!” Benrey said, holding his hand up to his forehead in an overdramatic salute.

It was enough to make all of Gordon’s worries dissipate. In his wildest dreams he never would’ve believed that introductions to the Science Team would go so well, but he could hardly complain. His son was happy. He was happy.

“I guess I could sleep some more,” Gordon said quietly, not expecting another response from Bubby as he leaned back in the chair once more.

July 4th came and went with hardly a thought from Gordon. He was never really into the whole celebration of America’s fucked up… everything, and loud noises were something that could be found in daily life literally anywhere else you looked. The only thing that was appealing about the holiday was the food and outdoor barbeques, but summer lasted three months and there would be many other opportunities to grill hot dogs.

The only reason it even came up was because of Joshua. His son, naive in his innocence, was staring despondently out the window on an overcast afternoon when none of the Science Team (or Benrey) had so far shown up to make their mark on the day.

“What’s wrong, Joshie?” Gordon had asked, putting his laptop to the side to better focus on his son’s distress.

“We missed the fireworks,” Joshua said, pouting. “I wanted to see them with Benny.”

And that had been the end of that.

Gordon told him they could have their own celebration, and in the next few days they ended up at the supermarket to buy snacks, fireworks, and a special gift for Benrey. The last one hadn’t been Joshua’s idea, but Gordon continued with his plan under the pretense that hey, Joshua needed new summer clothes. There was no reason why he couldn’t pick up a few things for Benrey as well.

That was how Gordon ended up with a pile of new clothes sitting on his bed, varying slightly in size and style. The choices had been made with a wide variety of guesswork, and he figured he could always return the things that Benrey didn’t end up liking.

Briefly, the buzzing thought that Gordon had spent more on Benrey than he ever would on himself in one sitting showed up in his mind. Gordon chased it away like an annoying fly.

Benrey later found his way over to Gordon’s apartment without having to be told about any of their plans for the day. Gordon answered his knock with slight confusion that quickly faded into wry amusement.

“Y’know,” he said, stretching his palm flat on the doorframe instead of moving aside to let Benrey in. “I was just planning on asking Tommy if we could use his backyard. Shame that you already walked the whole way here.”

“Bro, wha—? Come oooon,” Benrey whined, and quickly ducked under Gordon’s outstretched arm to squeeze past him into the living room. “Guess your plans will just have to be, uh… halted until the Benrey train leaves the station.”

“They involved you,” Gordon refuted, following him inside. Joshua perked up immediately, jumping from the couch to greet him enthusiastically. “Well, still do. Mind if I steal him for a bit, Josh?”

“Come back soon,” Joshua said, earning a snort of amusement from Benrey. Gordon quickly ushered him down the hall and into his bedroom, and there Benrey’s confusion at being led like a dog quickly melted into something more… soft as he noticed the pile of disarray spread out over the mattress.

“I thought I remembered you saying something about not having clothes,” Gordon explained, suddenly becoming very self-conscious about his spur of the moment decision making skills.

Benrey stepped forward to run a curious hand over one of the random articles of clothing. It seemed to satisfy him, considering the way his eyes widened as he moved his other hand to feel over the soft fabric. “How much of this is… uh. You’re just—you’re giving this to me?”

“All of it, and yeah,” Gordon said with a shrug. “I had to guess sizes. And I didn’t really know what you liked. The tags are all still there, so it’s not really an issue.”

“Gordon, you—” Benrey mumbled, cutting himself off to pick up a random sweatshirt and inspect it more closely. “You’re not the smartest with money, are you? Huh? Blow all your savings on me?”

There was a small smile on his face. Gordon understood enough of Benrey-speak to know that it was his way of saying thank you.

“Yeah, I guess so,” he replied, and turned away to return to the living room. “It’s no big deal. Wanna set some shit on fire?”

“Oh, hell yeah I do.”

Since Gordon thought it would be a little too cruel to head back to Tommy’s place with all of the things they would have to carry, the shit they were going to set on fire was mainly sparklers. Joshua was in it for the colors and lights more so than the loud noises, but Gordon grabbed a few quiet and kid-friendly firecrackers all the same.

In preparation for dinner, Gordon then cut the fruit they had bought and ordered pizza while Benrey kept Joshua entertained with some game he had brought over, clearly letting the child win when he sunk dramatically to his knees and announced his defeat. While they waited for dinner to arrive, Gordon went to his bedroom and carefully folded everything and set it to the side for Benrey to pick through later. The menial tasks felt much more satisfying to do when he wasn’t the only one in the apartment.

By the time everything was set up, the sun was low enough in the sky that Gordon knew they could safely light the sparklers. Joshua wolfed down his food in record time in order to be able to play with them, only slowing when Gordon calmly reprimanded him about manners.

“I wanna hold mine,” Joshua stated when they were outside, reaching eagerly for the box of sparklers that Gordon was holding.

The apartment complex had a small courtyard out back, so there was no danger of stray sparks hitting cars or anything of the like. Still, allowing his son so close to something hot and dangerous made his skin crawl. Benrey, as if sensing his discomfort, looped a casual arm around Joshua’s shoulders.

“I’ll keep him safe and sound. Watchin’ closely the whole time—nothing escapes these eyes. Nothing.”

“Alright,” Gordon relented, handing Joshua the stick and making sure they were far enough away from anything before he carefully lit the end.

When it sprang to life with a pop, Joshua’s first instinct was to jump backwards, nearly dropping the lit sparkler in his surprise. He was caught by Benrey, who crouched behind him and brought a gentle hand up to keep his wrist steady.

“Watch this,” Benrey said, and moved their hands together in random patterns that left streaks of light running through the sky. Joshua gasped. “Cool, huh?”

“Yeah, cool,” Joshua responded, fear forgotten as he stood transfixed by the crackling light. Benrey chuckled lowly, and began helping him spell out his own name, albeit incorrectly. During the short time he had with their attention fixed on something else, Gordon slyly pulled out his phone and snapped a quick picture of the scene. It was dimly lit, but showed everything he wanted to see clearly. One more press of a button, and Gordon had a new wallpaper.

Staying up past bedtime was beginning to become too much of a familiar habit. When Gordon managed to tuck Joshua into bed for the night, it was completely dark outside. Still, he drifted off much easier than he had the first night back. When Gordon was sure Joshua was sound asleep he stood up with a painful crack in his knees and turned to find Benrey leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed.

“Can I help you with something, Benrey?”

“Mm,” Benrey said, or rather mumbled. “Just—you’re so different with him than anyone else. All soft. And squishy. Weird.”

“He’s my son,” Gordon said, walking forward until they were chest to chest in an effort to keep his voice down. “And five. I’m not gonna treat him the same as everyone else. You’re different with him too, you know.”

“I understand him,” was all Benrey said. He paused to take a breath, and then, “Do you hate me?”

“What?” Gordon asked, completely blindsided by the sudden question. Benrey shifted uncomfortably, refusing to meet his gaze. “No, I… I don’t.”

“Oh. Cool.”

Gordon squinted, searching for any visible sign of what had caused Benrey to show such emotional vulnerability and finding nothing. Figuring that he wasn’t going to get anywhere without prodding, he gently moved the two of them forward and away from Joshua’s door to have a proper conversation. “Why are you asking that?”

“You’re just—you’re so… you’re so different,” Benrey said, slipping into the telltale jumble of words that he usually had trouble with when he was upset. “You’re so mean. To me. Sometimes. And sometimes… sometimes you’re not.”

“I don’t hate you,” Gordon said gently, trying to broach the subject as carefully as he could considering that they hadn’t ever actually talked about the things they needed to, and he had no idea how to talk about feelings with anyone. Let alone Benrey. “I… It’s hard, okay? For so long all I knew was that you hated me, that you wanted me dead. We’re getting over it, aren’t we?”

“You’re the one who pointed the gun at me,” Benrey said, tone flat. Oh.

Holding a gun against someone you thought you could sort of, maybe kind of trust was something, but Gordon could barely imagine staring down the end of the barrel. His breath hitched. Tentatively, he said, “I had no other choice.”

“And you think I did?” Benrey responded, teeth bared in a sudden flare of anger that dissipated as quickly as it had come. If he wasn’t being boxed in against the wall by Gordon’s frame, he looked like he would’ve collapsed. “No—no, forget it. It’s nothing. It’s fine! Everything is… it’s all good! It’s fine because you—if you just—if you just made things easy and hated me. It would all be okay.”

“Why would you want that?” Gordon asked, voice barely above a whisper. It hurt. It hurt to see Benrey so agitated, it hurt to think that all of the work they had put into their disjointed relationship was for nothing.

Benrey was shaking. He clutched the sides of his head tightly, nails digging into his own skin as he grit his teeth together. Gordon had never seen him so emotional before.

“Because I lo—I fucking. I want—why can’t you just? Be easy? Make things easy, for once?”

“Benrey,” Gordon said, and laid a tentative hand on Benrey’s shoulder.

Something broke. Benrey lunged forward, pink and blue light falling from his mouth as he gripped Gordon’s shirt tight. For a few short moments, Gordon thought that was the end—he was dead, mauled to death by the exact person he had originally thought would end up being the death of him. He was right.

Except he wasn’t. Benrey was grabbing his shirt while he sobbed into it, visibly trembling. Gordon stood still in shock, and then slowly wrapped his arms around Benrey in a hug. “It’s okay,” he whispered, fingers reaching up to run through the dark hair.

“It’s not,” Benrey said, voice muffled both through the fabric and his own tears. “It’s not. Okay. Because I—I want you, all the time. I want you to like me too. I just want you to understand. And you don’t! But you act all nice and you make things hard!”

For the second time, all Gordon could think was oh.

Love was a concept that made his heart drop in his chest and it… wasn’t because of Benrey, if he was being honest with himself. It was because the feeling was so foreign after years of guarding his heart that Gordon had no clue where to even start opening back up again. It would probably take months of therapy, and proper discussions when he was mentally sound enough to broach the subject.

Not the best thing to do when Benrey was sobbing into his chest.

While he thought on what to say while locked in their gentle embrace, Benrey seemed to take his silence as rejection. He forcefully pushed Gordon away, still sniffling, and scrambled past him with a quiet, “I’m going to take a shower.”

“Benrey!” Gordon said, but made no other attempt to stop him. The bathroom door shut with a decisive click.

The sigh Gordon let out seemed much louder in the sudden emptiness of the hallway. Benrey just confessed to him. He… had kind of seen it coming—you’d have to be blind to miss all of the affectionate glances Benrey threw in his direction when he thought Gordon wasn’t looking. Gordon knew a lot of things about himself, and one was that he wasn’t stupid. In denial, maybe, but not stupid.

He had known Benrey liked him for a long time. He just didn’t know what to do with that information.

The first step was to be honest with himself. And Gordon had already thought it—it wasn’t a problem that Benrey felt that way. It wasn’t horrible. It was flattering, actually, and the main hesitations Gordon had about exploring the whole situation were because of his own trust issues.

The only trust issue he had left with Benrey, if he really and truly thought about it, was because of the fact that something was still being hidden from him.

It was a conversation they would have to get through if they ever wanted to fully recover from what had happened in Black Mesa. And Gordon knew it wouldn’t be easy, or quick, but Benrey deserved that peace of mind as much as anyone else. He forced his feet to move down the hallway and into his bedroom, mind running on the barest minimum.

Benrey would probably need clothes after his shower. Gordon could grab something from the new pile he had just bought specifically for Benrey, but there was the possibility of grabbing the wrong thing. And dealing with tags was annoying, so he rummaged through his dresser to find an old t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that didn’t fit him anymore.

Gordon carried them folded against his chest and stopped outside of the bathroom door, tapping against it with a quiet knock. The only response was the sound of running water, so Gordon cracked it open with a vocal warning and set the clothes on the sink.

“It’s just me. I got you some stuff to change into.”

Gaining nothing from that either, Gordon quickly retreated into the living room to the couch to ruminate on his thoughts while he waited for Benrey to finish. He almost didn’t expect Benrey to face him again, but after half an hour the shower shut off and Benrey emerged from the bathroom wearing Gordon’s clothes and dripping water all over the floor.

Gordon gestured for him to sit, and stretched out his hand as an unspoken invitation.

Benrey looked at him, confused, before he slowly sat down and took Gordon’s hand within his own. The emotions he had shown before were completely gone; the only sign he was feeling anything at all was the gentle squeeze he gave as they held hands.

“I don’t really, uh… want to do this, but we need to talk.”

“Huh?” Benrey said.

“Not—not about what you said. Uh. I mean, we can when you’re ready. I wasn’t… I wasn’t rejecting you,” Gordon said, face hot. “But I mean what you said at the start.”

“What did I say?”

“You said that—well, you kinda implied that you had no choice. About what happened in Black Mesa. And I know you’re keeping something from me. And for this to… work, I guess, I need to know. I told you that before.”

“I guess so,” Benrey said, voice deadpan. If Gordon didn’t know him better, it would be slightly unnerving. “You summed it up already. It wasn’t—uh, it wasn’t always me.”

“Wasn’t always you?” Gordon echoed, tilting his head to the side as he tried to unravel what Benrey meant. Benrey was looking away from him and down instead at their hands, rubbing a thumb slowly over the back of Gordon’s palm.

“I don’t know. It was… um, fucking—skeleton. Stupid bone bullshit. Fucked me up. Got inside my head.”

“...The skeleton?” Benrey nodded. Gordon felt dread sit on his chest like a two ton weight. “Are you saying the skeleton was possessing you?”

“I don’t know,” Benrey replied, agitation rising as Gordon pressed him. “It was just some weird shit, okay? Script. Skeleton. Who cares. They’re all the same. What, you think I was kidding when I said I didn’t want to do it?”

“I don’t know,” Gordon echoed, thinking back to the promise he made to himself when Benrey had first reappeared. He would accept the things he could not change. Maybe that didn’t solely apply to himself. It was a lot to take in, but he didn’t have to do it all at once. “It’s okay. It’ll… we’ll make it okay.”

Benrey’s shoulders visibly dropped as he seemed to relax the tiniest bit. “Okay. I’m tired.”

“Let’s just... go to bed then,” Gordon said, unsure if he could deal with any more emotional bombs in the same night. He stood carefully, not letting go of Benrey’s hand while the other looked up at him in surprise. “I’m not making you sleep on the couch. Not tonight. Come on.”

“I don’t—who are you? The real Gordon would never be so gay.”

“Don’t ruin it,” Gordon said, letting out a haggard laugh as they traveled back into the safety of his room and climbed into bed. Once laid down, Benrey turned to face him somewhat cautiously before Gordon shut off the light and plunged the room into darkness, eliminating the need for confrontation. Beneath the sheets, Gordon extended a hand once more in invitation, and it wasn’t long before he felt Benrey’s fingers intertwining with his.

He fell asleep without letting go.

Chapter Text

“So, what are you gonna do?”

Tommy posed the question so casually that Benrey didn’t bother turning from where he stood, inspecting the numerous bottled drinks inside the cooler of a coffee shop. It was just before noon, and the two of them were standing off to the side while Tommy figured out his excessively detailed order. Benrey didn’t particularly care for anything on the menu.

“I dunno, you pick something out. Just don’t make it shit,” he replied absentmindedly, too distracted by his attempts of reading the organic ingredients of a drink that literally just looked like blended up grass. Half of the names on the label didn’t even look real.

“I’m not talking about the food,” Tommy said from behind him, laughing a little. “I don’t even know what I want, how am I—how can I pick for you?”

“Huh? Because you know things like that,” Benrey replied. After a few more seconds, he finally decided that the mystery of drinking grass and made-up chemicals was beyond him, and turned around to see the way Tommy was looking at him. Which was annoyingly knowing. “What?”

“I’m talking about—I don’t know. You’ve been kinda… off lately. I was talking about that.”

Benrey gave a slight frown. The building was mostly empty, but there were still too many people close by for his taste. “Why you gotta grill me, bro?”

“I’m—I’m not. I’m asking because I’m your friend,” Tommy said. His expression softened slightly, but Benrey still didn’t feel like talking.

Feelings were something abstract to him—he had them, of course. But they didn’t flow smoothly from his head to his mouth. Everything he felt was a symphony of colors, images, sounds. He didn’t know how to translate the ever changing arrangement into simple, two-dimensional things like words.

So he didn’t. The best option Benrey had was the Sweet Voice; something that could display his raw emotions without losing things along the way. Tommy, thankfully, understood that well enough, even though he usually had trouble with Benrey’s spoken explanations.

The only one who seemed to be able to understand him when he spoke about important things was Gordon. And occasionally Coomer, but Benrey liked it better when Gordon translated for him.

Tommy was still waiting for a response. “Maybe later,” Benrey said, toying with a stray strand of hair.

It seemed to be enough. Tommy gave a small shrug and stepped into line to order, looking like he was still unsure of both what he wanted and the situation itself. He didn’t mean any harm, but for Benrey it was strange having someone looking out for him. The best reaction he knew was to guard the soft and sensitive parts of himself, to just try and fit in with everyone else by having a good time.

And Benrey didn’t feel like he was having a good time after the conversation he had with Gordon.

“Hi! Are you ready to order?”

An overly cheerful barista was waving Tommy over, pausing with a curious look at Benrey before her attention focused solely on the customer in front of her. Benrey watched as Tommy went down a mental list, reciting the words almost perfectly as he gave the order he had decided on to the girl at the counter. He ordered something for Benrey too, but Benrey only caught snippets of what he had decided on.

Their drinks were ready a few minutes later, and when Tommy delivered Benrey a cup wrapped with cardboard, his curiosity was piqued.

“What is it?”

“Hot chocolate,” Tommy said, and took a sip of his own drink. It was cold, and much more involved—it looked like it had at least five toppings. “Did I get it right?”

Benrey made a low humming sound, hands wrapping around the cup as the warmth seeped comfortably through it. It made him feel a tiny bit better, curbing the edge of his unease that had been slowly rising. He nodded. “S’alright. Weird weather though, bro.”

“You didn’t even try it,” Tommy said, and inclined his head toward the row of tables by the wall. “Let’s go sit.”

Benrey trailed behind as they crossed the room to actually bring the cup to his lips. The assessment was correct—it was good. He liked sweet things, and other strong flavor profiles like sour and spicy, but there weren’t too many extra bits that overwhelmed his tongue.

“How do you do that?” Benrey asked once he took a seat across from Tommy, causing his companion to pause in the organization of his bag and instead fix Benrey with a curious look.

“Do what?”

“Uh… y’know, just—know things. Like what to get. And how to… words.”

Tommy shifted in his seat, glancing around the room while he toyed with his shirt sleeve. “I’m not—I don’t really know how to just… be good at it. I don’t think I am. What do you wanna know about in particular?”

“You’ve got the whoooole crowd fooled, man,” Benrey replied. “I just think it would be like, cool to get better at the whole speaking thing. I could blow Freeman’s mind with my poetic, uh… verb—verbose. Yeah. Y’know. But I’m pretty shit at it.”

“Oh, well, I kinda memorize things. And mimic people where I can. I think… that helps a lot, if you’ve ever tried that?”

Benrey took another sip of his hot chocolate before responding. “Does that actually work?”

“For some people,” Tommy said. “You kinda just gotta try it yourself and see what works for you. Do you want to practice?”

Despite the wide open space, the room still felt too small. The few people milling around the shop were all too close, ready to listen in on any attempt Benrey made to talk about his feelings. He missed the gentle calm of Gordon’s apartment, of Joshua talking to him about simple concepts that he could understand while Gordon drifted in and out of the room, always paying some attention to them in the end.

“I think...” Benrey said, “I think I wanna leave. The vibe in here is—it sucks.”

Tommy blinked at him, then hurried to grab his scattered belongings with a quiet apology. “Sorry, Benrey. If I had realized it was one of those days I would’ve gotten it to go.”

Their exit from the coffee shop immediately made the static in Benrey’s head feel better. He relaxed once they were outside, gripping the cup for comfort as Tommy sipped his own drink next to him. There were tables outside, but they were ignored as the two continued on past them and down the street at a relaxed pace.

Walking was good. Walking felt easy. Benrey had the path to Gordon’s apartment practically ingrained in his head, and if he closed his eyes he could imagine he was headed there.

“Any better?” Tommy asked, and Benrey hummed his assent with a flash of gray light. Tommy nodded. “Glad to hear.”

They continued on in an easy silence then, walking with no destination in mind. Occasionally Tommy would point out something he found interesting, like an old building or a brightly colored bird. The coffee shop was in the quiet part of town, away from all the busy traffic and office jobs. The streets that sprawled away from it were lined with trees and family homes, churches, apartments.

Most people grew up in that gentle part of town. They spent their whole lives in that one spot, only to die in quiet complacency. Benrey wondered what it was like to have something so reliable.

When Tommy finished his drink they turned back, retracing their steps back to the parking lot where the car was waiting for them. It was only then that Tommy spoke up, hand on the frame of the open car door.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Benrey nodded, not really looking at him. “Mhm.”

“Okay,” Tommy said, and shut the door behind him. “You know, I didn’t mean to press earlier. I’m… sorry if that’s how it came off.”

“I’m chill,” Benrey said, staring out the passenger window to avoid confronting Tommy’s worried look. He knew he had been acting differently ever since that night—quieter, less prone to poking fun at others. Benrey felt like he couldn’t even go ten minutes without having anxiety flare up over some new thing.

He felt ripped open and vulnerable, and he didn’t need someone else to remind him of that fact.

Thankfully, Tommy knew when to drop things. His gaze quickly fell from Benrey as he instead adjusted the rear view mirror, and soon the car roared to life with a low humming of the engine.

“I just…” Tommy said, pausing to search for the right words. “I just wanna make sure you’re doing what makes you happy. You deserve it just as much as anyone else.”

Happiness was a curious word.

Benrey often did things for his own amusement, or just to see the effects. He liked to see weird shit happen and he liked to see people’s reactions to that. He liked to be included. He liked things that entertained him despite his short attention span.

Was that happiness? He didn’t know. He definitely didn’t know how else to describe it.

Benrey tried googling it to make sure on the ride home to Tommy’s house, and the results were either inconclusive or full of lengthy explanations he couldn’t wrap his head around. He wasn’t really in the mood to ask Tommy, and something told him that Tommy would trip over it just the same as Benrey did.

The thought was shoved to the back of his head as he went about the rest of his day, which included Tommy taking off again to go pick up something or other, which left Benrey alone. Which left him bored.

So, he went to Gordon’s.

As Benrey walked the path by heart, dark clouds curled overhead. They were menacing in their weight, shifting mass far bigger than something he could ever hope to understand. Most times, he didn’t question how the world worked. But that didn’t mean he had to like it when the storm rolled in, bringing hell’s personal soundtrack with it. Thunderstorms could rot in hell.

Gordon met him at the door with dark circles under his eyes. “Hey,” he said, fighting back a yawn.

“Hey yourself,” Benrey said, glad to be away from the watchful eye of the clouds as he stepped into the familiar living room. “You look terrible. Forget to take care of yourself? Am I gonna have to babysit you, huh? Lil’ chicken head?”

“You could at least pretend to be nice,” Gordon replied, though there was amusement hidden below the thinly veiled exasperation. “I just haven’t slept much. My head’s been killing me. And we all know you’d rather be babysitting Josh.”

“Hell yeah, I would. Where is that little gamer?”

“Taking a nap,” Gordon said, and gestured vaguely down the hall to where Joshua’s bedroom door was shut. “He’ll probably be up soon. Did you come here just to freeload or are you gonna help me make dinner?”

“Huh? It’s not even five,” Benrey said, which was a guesstimate of the time, though it seemed to be accurate enough.

Gordon gave a small shrug. “I didn’t say we had to do it now. I just needed to get a response so I could hold you to it later.”

“Have some faith, bro.”

Chuckling, Gordon held out his hand for Benrey to take as the two of them wandered over to the couch. Benrey took it without really thinking, savoring the feel of Gordon’s hand in his own.

Out of everything that changed in the way Gordon treated him, that was the best. He provided contact without any expectation, gentle touches that Benrey could lean into while they shared in each other’s presence. It had ramped up after their last discussion, the change in pace definitely noticeable but not unwanted. Benrey wasn’t sure why Gordon was suddenly so affectionate, but he didn’t want it to change.

The contact was taken a step further when the two sat together and Gordon stretched out an arm, letting Benrey lean back against his chest without a word. He was warm and inviting, slow breathing matching Benrey’s and making him yawn as they lay together. A low laugh shook Gordon’s chest with a rumble as Benrey suddenly found it hard to keep his eyes open.

“You look like you wouldn’t mind taking a nap either,” Gordon said.

“No such thing as naps,” Benrey replied, succumbing to the comfortable feeling and curling closer to Gordon. He wanted to tease him, to joke about how well they fit together. But if he did that, then Gordon might not let him stay. “Just sleep, man. Always sleep. Hit my power button and I’ll see you in like… twelve hours.”

“Okay, well sleep then. I’ll try not to wake you.”

Truth be told, Benrey wasn’t that tired. Or at least, he hadn’t been. It was the combination of finally being in a safe spot and the feeling of Gordon’s fingers slowly carding through his hair that brought him to the edge of unconsciousness.

Somewhere along the line, Benrey ended up slipping into the dark embrace the world offered. He was only dimly aware of what was going on around him—eventually there were sounds, snippets of voices that he vaguely recognized and flashes of light and color dotting throughout his vision. The feeling of warm safety faded away into something ambiguous.

It wasn’t necessarily unsafe, just different. Far away and forgotten, feelings he couldn’t name and memories he wasn’t sure if he actually had truly experienced played in front of his eyes like an old movie, imperfect and blurry. It was fun to watch, even if he didn’t feel any real attachment to what was happening around him.

Benrey heard someone calling his name, and curled tighter within himself.

But the calling didn’t stop. It only got louder, and louder, and as it reached its peak Benrey was jolted awake by the sound of Gordon’s voice and the realization that he had been dreaming. It was well past sunset, his mouth felt like he had been chewing on cotton, and Gordon was no longer pressed against him.

The man was draped over the couch instead, standing behind it to gaze down at Benrey curiously. “Looks like somebody slept well.”

“I… I thought you wanted my help with, um. Whatever dumb shit you needed,” Benrey said with some effort, searching for the right words as his brain forcefully restarted.

“I figured I should just let you be,” Gordon said, stepping away to click off the overhead light and stretch his arms over his head. “You were out like a light. No pun intended. I probably would’ve been too if Josh hadn’t woken me up.”

A howl of wind from outside startled both of them into silence. Beneath the buzz of electronics that seemed to permeate the apartment complex, a heavy rain could be heard beating down against the pavement. It was accompanied by the ever-present shifting of trees and building foundation, bent into shape by the wind. Instinctively, Benrey shied away from the window.

Of course, Gordon noticed. He was still across the room, too far away to provide comfort, but his expression was soft in the remaining light provided by the kitchen. “It’s just the wind, Benrey.”

“I know, fuck,” Benrey grumbled in response, then jumped at the sound of the wind rushing so fast it pressed against the glass window as if attempting a break in. “I just don’t—it’s really. Not epic. Messes with the atmospherics. And the ambivalence—ambience.”

“You’re afraid?”

He was.

“No. The universe knows better than to fuck with me.”

Gordon made a soft humming noise, and then closed the distance between them to hold out a hand in offering. “Let’s go for a walk.”

“The hell—? Alright, sure.”

The promise that Gordon would keep him safe went unspoken, but not unknown. Together they stepped out the door into the night beyond, hand in hand as they usually were. The wind was still active, but somehow calmer once outside. High overhead, the moon peeked out through the thick clouds covering their corner of the world.

“Rain’s let up,” Gordon commented, though in Benrey’s opinion it was still too much—enough to drench them just by stepping outside. At least there was no thunder. “What is it that scares you so much?”

“Huh?” Benrey asked. He purposefully turned away so that he couldn’t see the affectionate smirk on Gordon’s lips. “You take me out here so you could read me like a book? You have, uh… the eye windows for that.”

“Glasses?” Benrey made a noise of affirmation. “I… sure. That’s—that’s not what helps me understand you. I’m just curious.”

Gordon squeezed his hand lightly, most likely meant as a sign that he didn’t mean his playful teasing offensively. Benrey thought that Gordon’s teasing could never be offensive—he was only hurtful when he didn’t realize what he was saying.

“I don’t… like the loud noises. They make my head feel all fuzzy, like there’s something crawling around in there.”

“Fair enough,” was all Gordon said.

They took the path down the apartment stairs and into the street leading out and away, dodging in between shallow puddles and harsh streetlight beams. Things were different at night—with how quiet it was, it seemed as if the scene was made for them and them alone.

“Joshua’s leaving next month,” Gordon commented when they paused to take refuge from the rain underneath a tree. He pulled his hand away from Benrey’s to clean scattered droplets from his glasses. “I can’t believe summer’s going by so fast. There’s still so many things I want to do for him.”

“Can’t you still?” Benrey asked, confused.

Gordon made a low noise in his throat that sounded halfway between a laugh and a sigh. “Yeah. Just me being sentimental. I’m, uh… really gonna miss him.”

Slowly, Benrey began to come up with explanations for Gordon’s new touchiness. This time, it wasn’t Gordon who cautiously linked their fingers together as they continued their walk.

“You know, he really likes you,” Gordon continued. “He likes all of the Science Team, I mean, they treat him great. But he’s attached to you like you’re a third parent.”

“I understand him,” Benrey said, heart fluttering at the offhand implication of being Joshua’s parent. “I told you that. You try listening?”

“You did say that, yeah.” Even with how quiet Gordon was speaking, he still sounded louder than anything around them. “I just… I appreciate everything you do for him.” A pause, and then, “For both of us. Thanks, Benrey.”

For a short moment, Benrey considered saying that he would do anything for them if asked. What came out was, “Huh? I’m not doing you any favors.”

Gordon chuckled. “I know. I guess I’m too far gone. I just genuinely like having you around.”

Benrey let out a breath, and Gordon turned to look at him. His hair was falling into his face, turned frizzy and damp from the rainfall. He had never looked more kissable.

“Yeah, guess so. Weirdo.”

“You’re the weird one!” Gordon gave him a playful shove, then paused with a distracted breath of wonder. “Woah. Look at the stars.”

They had walked far enough away from the busy part of town, into the area where everyone was asleep at so late an hour. In between the gaps of the storm clouds, scatterings of stars twinkled high overhead. Benrey suddenly felt very small, down on earth and no way to get out.

“I never get the chance to really look at them,” Gordon was saying, craning his neck to get a better look. “Is that Orion? Nah, location feels off.”

“Nerd,” Benrey said, voice coming out flat.

“I don’t actually know that much. Hey, what’s—what’s on your mind?”

Subconsciously, Benrey had pressed closer to Gordon, seeking his companionship as well as his comfort. Of course, Gordon had noticed. Gordon noticed every detail about him, lately. Benrey didn’t know if that was a blessing or a curse.

It was hard to speak, but Benrey wanted to make the attempt. “They… make me feel lonely. Ties in with the whole storm thing.”

A long silence stretched between them, and Gordon looked at him the whole time. Benrey could almost see the wheels turning in his head as he analyzed everything that Benrey had said and done, eventually coming to conclusions that Benrey couldn’t even make about himself. Gordon was smart like that.

And then, suddenly, Gordon’s arms were around him. The hug was comfortable, less cautious than it had been during the night of Benrey’s Epic Freakout, but Gordon’s voice had the same soft tone when he finally spoke.

“You’re not alone, Benrey,” he said. “You’re here with me. And I want you here. To stay.”

“Cool,” Benrey said, experimentally hugging back as his mind practically did somersaults. Gordon was being nice to him, and he loved it. He loved it. He loved Gordon more than anything he had ever known. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good,” Gordon replied, voice muffled from where he was pressing his face against Benrey’s dark hair. “I lost you once. I won’t make that mistake again.”

“Stop saying gay shit,” Benrey mumbled, afraid that he would find judgement from anything that dare lay eyes on him in the moment. He didn’t know where to begin dealing with the love that was bursting within him, but his fingers tightened in Gordon’s shirt to hold him as close as he possibly could. “You don’t… you don’t have to be lonely, either.”

The response was agonizingly tender, and somehow Benrey knew the tone in Gordon’s voice was meant only for him. “I know.”

The next morning, Benrey awoke first to the subtle feeling of the bed shifting. In his half-awake state, he recognized it as Gordon getting up for the day and soon returned to his hazy dreamland, content with curling beneath the sheets and pillows that all smelled like Gordon even when he wasn’t there. It wasn’t quite the same with the loss of warmth, but it was good enough.

The second time he woke up was to the feeling of a gentle tap on his shoulder. It was a completely new feeling—Gordon’s touch was rougher when he woke Benrey, more confident. The confusion was what startled him awake, and he craned his neck only to stare into the wide eyes of Joshua.

“Is my dad better?”

“Whuh?” Benrey mumbled, not quite sure what Joshua was asking of him. The kid looked just as confused as Benrey felt upon seeing him there, but he didn’t question Benrey’s presence. Instead, he stood on his tiptoes to look curiously past Benrey at the pile of blankets on the other side of the bed.

Benrey followed his gaze, and upon further inspection the pile of blankets was revealed to be Gordon. It was out of character for him to be in bed so late, and downright unheard of for him to be disengaged when Joshua was awake and needing him.

Benrey blinked. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Said he felt all icky,” Joshua replied, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet with worry etched clearly onto his face.

“Your dad got himself all sick, huh?” Benrey asked, though he already knew the answer. It was just Gordon’s luck to catch a cold from a simple walk, especially when it had been his idea from the start. Curiously, Benrey dove a hand into the pile of blankets until he managed to find Gordon’s side hidden deep within—as expected, his skin was hot and clammy.

“He’s gonna be okay, right Benny?” Joshua asked. There was a genuine fear creeping into his tone that probably came from Benrey’s delayed reactions, and so Benrey did his best to reassure him with a theatrical thumbs up.

“Yeah, ‘course. I won’t let anything happen to him,” Benrey said, which was a lie—despite how much he wanted to keep Gordon safe, he had no say over the man’s immune system—but it seemed to placate Joshua enough to calm down some.

In a few more moments Joshua left the room to let Benrey get up and get changed, who was tempted to just keep the clothes he changed into last night. But if he did that Gordon would probably notice, and then he would probably complain, and while Benrey found Gordon’s complaining the funniest thing in the world he figured it would be best for both of them not to get on the man’s nerves for the time being.

Besides, hunting for clothes was fun. It was a reminder of the fact that Gordon not only tolerated his presence, but that Gordon actually liked it. Some of the clothes that had been gifted to him were at Tommy’s, but most remained in Gordon’s closet. Earthy browns and dusty oranges slowly faded into the greys and blacks that Benrey liked to wear, setting their identities apart as much as they melded together.

It was a small thing, but it made Benrey happy. It made him feel like he truly belonged, that his existence in his current comfort zone wasn’t just temporary. He thought back to the discussion with Tommy, and came to the conclusion that as long as he was with his newfound family, he was doing what made him happy.

After throwing on a comfortable pair of pants and an old shirt of Gordon’s—he wasn’t technically there to complain—Benrey wandered into the kitchen while he thought on the best ways to make a sick person better again. After all, he didn’t really… get sick. At least, he hadn’t yet. But Joshua was looking at him expectantly from the couch, and he didn’t want to see Gordon suffer.

Benrey’s first conclusion was that Gordon needed medicine. There was no magic word that would instantaneously heal him, but the assortment of pills he had in the bathroom cabinet would hopefully be close enough. The realization that Benrey had no idea what any of them were actually for struck him when he opened the cabinet and was faced with more bottles than he had ever seen in his life.

A quick glance over revealed that the listings on the labels were practically useless; they were more wordy and confusing than the ones on the drinks at the coffee shop. Benrey paused for a second, and then grabbed as many as he could carry in one go. They were then deposited ungracefully on the nightstand next to Gordon, and with his hands free Benrey returned to the kitchen to gather what he figured would be the next step.

Which was… probably something to make the pills taste better. There was leftover pizza in the fridge from Benrey’s last visit a couple days ago, but he was kind of hoping to save that for himself. He also wasn’t even sure if Gordon would be hungry, so he decided on a simple glass of water. Tommy usually offered him some when he didn’t feel grounded in reality, or when his head hurt, so he figured it was a safe bet.

When Benrey re-entered the bedroom to deliver the water, Gordon was actually awake. He was partially sitting up, turned away from the door to inspect the numerous pill bottles. Benrey crossed the room without him noticing. He jumped slightly upon becoming aware of Benrey’s presence, which in turn caused Benrey to almost drop the glass he was carrying.

“Calm down,” Benrey said, and set the glass down carefully. “Would’a thought you seen a ghost or something.”

“What are—” Gordon started, but paused to cough into his hand before he tried again. “What are all these?”

“I didn’t know which to grab,” Benrey admitted, “so I just grabbed all of them.”

Gordon’s expression softened, and he was unable to hide his smile in his half-delirious state. His hair was slick with sweat against his forehead, which was gross, but Benrey leaned over to gently press his palm there anyway. Gordon let him do it calmly, and something deep within Benrey roared to life as he let his hand travel down to cup the side of Gordon’s face.

“What’s your diagnosis?” Gordon asked quietly, looking up through half-lidded eyes.

Benrey thought for a few seconds before he let his hand drop away. “You’re all warm.”

He got a quiet chuckle in response. “No shit.”

With some effort, Gordon managed to untangle himself from his nest of blankets just enough to reach and grab a bottle wrapped in a blue label. He held it up for Benrey to inspect before opening it, and downed two pills without even taking a sip of the water.

“Come on, really?” Benrey whined, crossing his arms in irritation. “I went through so much trouble to get you that gamer juice and you can’t even… can’t even appreciate me.”

“I appreciate you,” Gordon replied.

His voice sounded slightly hoarse, which Benrey was pretty sure he had never actually heard before. At least not in a non-lethal scenario.

“Are you, uh… is that gonna be enough?” Benrey asked, worry stirring within his heart.

“What?”

“Is that like—good? Are you gonna be good now? Healed? Magic potion of healing… or vitality or whatever.”

“It’s just aspirin,” Gordon explained. “It’s for my headache. I’ll probably be fine once I sleep it off. Are you gonna be okay watching Josh?”

“Sure, fine, whatever,” Benrey said. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of movement in the doorway and tossed a toothy grin towards what was definitely Joshua pretending like he hadn’t been listening in on their conversation. “We’ll have so much fun. So much—you’ll be jealous of… of how cool we are. Yeah. Coolin’.”

“Okay,” Gordon said without fighting back, and wrapped himself back up in the blankets.

Benrey figured that was the end of the conversation, and made his exit from the room to actually meet Joshua in the hall. The kid stared up at him with wide eyes, crowding so close that Benrey almost tripped.

“You fixed him, Benny?”

“Yeah,” Benrey replied, with as much confidence as someone with zero knowledge of medical care could. “All… all fixed up and good. What should we do while we wait for the respawn timer?”

Joshua seemed confused at his choice of words, but didn’t offer any questions—or answers—as he led Benrey back out to the living room. They stopped in front of the coffee table, where scattered papers and crayons lay previously unseen in Benrey’s haste to put together his Feel-Good plan. Joshua pointed confidently at an unfinished drawing.

“What color?”

Benrey considered the options as he crouched down for a better look. Pink was really speaking to him, so he held up said crayon between two fingers. Aside from the overwhelming desire to eat it, which would probably make Joshua sad, it looked a lot like the shade of pink that often filled his mind when he thought of Gordon.

Which was who the drawing depicted, if Benrey had to guess. There was a tall stick figure surrounded by grass scribbles and flowers, holding hands with a smaller figure labeled “me” in bright red letters. A third figure could also be seen off to the side, though it was so distorted by surrounding colorful circles that Benrey had no idea what it was.

“Us,” Joshua said, as if reading his thoughts. He carefully tapped his figure on the paper, and then pointed at himself. Next the drawing of Gordon, then pointed down the hall to the bedroom. Lastly the third drawing, and then he pointed at Benrey. “I drew us for dad.”

“Yooo,” Benrey said, information suddenly clicking in his head at Joshua’s explanation. “That’s me. That’s the Sweet Voice! Sick, dude.”

“It’s you!” Joshua exclaimed, hands flapping excitedly at the recognition. “I like your lights! They make me happy, and I want dad to be happy too. So I drew nice things for him to keep close when I go back home and stay with mom. You’ll make sure he isn’t sad, right?”

“Yeah,” Benrey said, “I will. Sometimes… your dad is a lot more sad than he says. But I know when he is. And this’ll cheer him right up.”

“You know lots of things,” Joshua said. He looked at Benrey like he had hung the stars in the sky. “I think you know everything. You should stay here forever and keep my dad from being lonely by fighting the sad away. Please, Benny?”

“I do know everything,” Benrey agreed, tapping a finger absentmindedly against the paper before offering Joshua the pink crayon he was still holding. He didn’t know if he could keep the promise requested of him, so he changed the subject. “And I know that this is gonna look sick when you finish it. Let’s see it.”

About two weeks later, Gordon got a phone call.

Benrey only heard the tail end of it. He had been staying over often enough that when Gordon disappeared out of bed just after sunrise, he noticed the man’s absence.

Normally he would be just fine with continuing to sleep alone, but distantly he heard Gordon’s voice—stressed, and doing his best to stay calm and quiet. Gordon was not particularly the quietest person when he was upset, so something was definitely off.

It was enough for Benrey to peel himself from the mattress and wrap the discarded blanket around his shoulders as a protective layer from the early morning chill. By the time he actually made it down the hall, Gordon had already hung up and was staring down at the phone in his hand.

“What’s up, Freeman?” Benrey asked casually, internal unease rising at the sight of Gordon’s pained expression.

Gordon turned to meet him suddenly, like he hadn’t been aware of Benrey’s approach. He quickly tucked the phone away in his back pocket.

“What are you doing up this early?”

“Couldn’t sleep with your loud ass bickering,” Benrey said, which was a half-truth. Gordon didn’t need to know the reason why. “What was that?”

“Not what it looked like,” Gordon replied, sighing. He raked a hand through his unkempt hair and then all but collapsed on the couch. “It wasn’t an argument. Just… Josh’s mom bugging me about where to drop him off. I guess I’m just not ready to let him go.”

“Hey, you got me,” Benrey said, coming to sit beside Gordon and offering him a corner of the blanket. “Am I not good enough for you?”

“It’s not really the same thing, but I guess that’s part of it. You’re not here all the time. When Josh leaves I’m just gonna be… alone.”

Benrey let out a snort of amusement. “Like hell I would give up coming here and eating all your food.”

“I’d be okay if you were eating actual food,” Gordon said irately. “Three whole sticks of butter, Benrey, seriously! Where do they go?!”

Benrey shrugged. “Don’t be so mad. Back to your sad moment.”

“Yeah,” Gordon said, and the spark of energy he showed was quickly gone again. “My sad moment. Don’t tell anyone this, but… I just really don’t wanna be alone. I don’t know if I can handle it again.”

Benrey stayed silent, unsure of what to say to comfort the man next to him. Gordon took his lack of response as judgement and let out a nervous chuckle, rubbing at the back of his neck with anxiety written all over his face.

“I know it’s stupid,” he continued, “but after everything—I just… I can’t. I don’t know what I’m gonna do.”

“I’ll stay,” Benrey said.

“You—huh?”

“I’ll stay. Permanently. Keep you out of trouble. Keep the bad dreams away. Y’know, be your player two, except in a totally non-gay way.”

“You…” Gordon started, then trailed off to fix Benrey with one of his token inquisitive looks. “You’d do that with no questions asked. Really?”

“Yeah, why not? Why do you think I would? It’s not rocket science. And I thought you had a certificate in… sciences.”

“No, I know why you would,” Gordon said defensively. Even in the dim light, the blush on his face was clearly visible. “I’m just trying to figure out the logistics of it. Like whether or not we’ll end up killing each other if you’re around full time.”

Benrey was sure that he could keep Gordon company forever and still yearn to be closer to him. He wasn’t sure that his habits wouldn’t drive Gordon insane, but that was part of the fun. “I sleep in your bed, dude.”

“Occasionally.”

“Sounds like denial,” Benrey said, then leaned over to press his lips against Gordon’s cheek with an overly dramatic smacking sound. “It’ll be chill.”

Any comedic effect that Benrey hoped to cause flew out the window as Gordon sat still for a few seconds, face turning even redder as he brought his hand up to cover the area Benrey’s mouth had been. “Did you seriously just do that?”

“Want me to do it again?”

“I want you to take this seriously,” Gordon said, huffing out a sigh. “Think about it. I mean, yeah, you’re right, you practically live here anyway. But things would still change if you actually moved in. And I… I care about your happiness.”

Benrey let out a quiet hum, letting what Gordon said really sink in while his mind was set aflame in pink and blue at the implications. When he opened his mouth to respond, the feeling came out instead of words, and then it was Benrey’s turn to blush as the lights quickly faded.

Gordon raised an eyebrow at the show of Sweet Voice.

“I think…” Benrey said, trying to keep the conversation going before Gordon asked about it. “I think good! I mean—it’ll be greats. Being with you, uh.” A pause to take a deep breath. “Being around you is what… makes me happy.”

For a tense moment, he regretted saying it. And then the genuine smile he received almost made him melt right then and there. Gordon was looking at him with nothing but unrestrained compassion, and gently he took Benrey’s hand in his own.

“That feels like it took a lot to admit,” Gordon said. “Thanks.”

“It’s nothing,” Benrey mumbled, using his free hand to twirl a stray lock of hair around his finger. “I guess it’s settled then. I’m officially a member of the Freeman Gamer Pad. I gotta tell Tommy.”

“Yeah, but it can wait.” Gordon dropped his gaze to stare down at their intertwined fingers. “Welcome home, Benrey.”

Chapter Text

Gordon was used to making bad decisions.

As far as he was concerned, his life was nothing but a series of those continued bad decisions—like offering to share his apartment on a whim with someone who by all means he should’ve hated, but somehow couldn’t live without. And then offering to move his new alien roommate’s stuff to his apartment in triple degree weather.

Technically, it couldn’t have been done without Tommy. Technically. He was the one with the car, and he was the one who had dropped everything to help upon finding out that Benrey was moving in with Gordon. But when the time had come to actually do the job Tommy was too distracted by throwing his arms around Benrey and talking animatedly about missing him, though he assured both him and Gordon that he was genuinely happy for them.

Gordon had flushed a deep red and left Joshua to fawn over Sunkist while he did the actual work of packing boxes into the trunk of Tommy’s car. There weren’t that many, and on top of escaping the conversation Gordon loved doing nice things for people. The little half smile that Benrey often wore when Gordon did something thoughtful for him was enough to make the discomfort of physical labor in the summer heat worth it.

Almost. He would definitely need a shower when all was said and done.

Thankfully, Benrey had surprisingly little to his name, and Gordon packed everything together and shut the trunk of the car before the sweat pouring down his temple managed to drown him. He called the group over to leave with a wave of his hand and Benrey made a face at his disheveled appearance, sticking out his tongue as he shuffled past Gordon into the back seat.

“Gross,” Benrey said.

“Yeah? Next time you can do all the work,” Gordon shot back.

“Mm. Nope, won’t be a next time. You’ll never kick me out.”

“Mhm,” Gordon mumbled, rolling his eyes. “We’ll see.”

Since Tommy had been kind enough to lend a hand, Gordon invited him to stay for dinner, on the condition that he and Benrey went out and got it while Gordon took a shower. He ducked inside and headed into the bathroom before the opportunity to have him unload everything into the apartment arose, instead trusting the others not to burn down his apartment while he was gone.

Gordon got undressed with a total feeling of calm, and stepped into the shower. The cool water was a pleasant contrast against the arid summer heat that beat down against his skin. Over the sound of the faucet and the playlist he had pulled up on his phone, the sound of voices could distantly be heard from the living room, an ever present reminder that he wasn’t alone. That he was loved.

And he chose to love in return.

Sometimes, the universe was far too cruel. The things that Gordon had seen and done he honestly wouldn’t wish on anyone, not even his most hated enemy. But somehow, little by little, the pieces had been put back together. It was in the quietest, most private moments that Gordon could truly appreciate how… proud he was of everyone, including himself.

By the time he had finished washing away all of the grime and changed into a fresh set of clothes, the apartment was empty. Gordon observed the scattered boxes curiously, fingers running over worn cardboard. There weren’t any labels, at least not discernable ones. Some scribbles could be seen sprawled randomly, usually scratched out; most likely, they were old labels from Tommy, and had nothing to do with the contents currently inside.

The mystery of what could be inside some of the boxes created a deeply rooted curiosity within him, but he resisted the urge to dig through them. It was a striking thought that Gordon didn’t really know much about Benrey, despite the fact that they talked extensively. He had no idea what Benrey’s hobbies were—outside of smoking noobs on Call of Duty, or whatever—or what he wanted to do with his life if Black Mesa had never gotten in the way.

But it wasn’t because Gordon didn’t know Benrey. If anything, it was probably because Benrey didn’t know either. He probably had more, once. Long ago hopes and dreams left interrupted by that damned facility’s need to control everything, to take it apart and make it their own.

It hurt to think about, but soon Gordon’s hurt was interrupted by the ringing of his phone.

“What do you want?” Benrey asked, casual tone so far away from all of the depressing thoughts Gordon had been lost in only moments ago.

“Huh…? You called me?”

“To eat, dumbass.”

Gordon blinked. “Oh. Where are you?”

There was a pause and the sound of rustling in the background as Benrey presumably pulled the phone away from his mouth to repeat the question to Tommy, then after more background noise Tommy’s voice answered instead.

“Hi, Gordon. We’re at the—Benrey, hold the phone still, I’m trying to drive—we’re at that place I was talking about last week with the burgers and… uh, I think they have like, cake and stuff.”

“Alright,” Gordon said, trying and failing to switch his brain over to a different topic, “just get me, uh… Surprise me, honestly. I don’t care.”

The answer was a crackly laugh from Benrey that could only be described as evil before the line was dropped and Gordon was left alone once more to ponder whether or not he had just made a grave error in giving his friends that sort of power. Hopefully the food crimes wouldn’t be too severe with Joshua there to influence them, but Gordon would bet money on his son being too distracted to provide any real input on the ethics of actual meals.

Some fifteen minutes later, the entourage arrived to pull Gordon away from his mindless organization of things that would have to be put cleanly away later on anyway. Behind Tommy and Benrey strolled Joshua, who was tailed by Sunkist, who Gordon hadn’t been expecting to see. She seemed much larger in the small space of his apartment than she did outside, but she quickly padded over to the middle of the living room and curled up by the coffee table.

“Hey,” Gordon said, ruffling Joshua’s hair while Tommy sorted out everyone’s orders. “You have a good time out today?”

Joshua beamed at him. “Yep!”

Dinner was then eaten with everyone comfortably spread out through the living room. Gordon let the others have the couch and instead sat cross legged on the floor, though he was joined by Joshua later on. Joshua quickly tired of the floor and went back to sitting next to Tommy, and then Benrey took Joshua’s previous spot next to Gordon.

They rotated out through the night like that, changing positions while keeping up a friendly banter. When everyone was full Benrey was left in charge of putting on a movie, though the remote quickly passed to Gordon when he had to forcefully remind the other that old slasher movies weren’t appropriate for Joshua.

“I bet he’d think they’re sick,” Benrey mumbled disdainfully, but handed the remote over without much of a struggle.

“Yeah, maybe we can find out in like a decade,” Gordon replied with a roll of his eyes. “Until then we’re sticking to kid-friendly things.”

Picking something kid-friendly was left in the hands of Joshua, since there was only time to watch one thing before his bedtime. He decided on a documentary about horses, which was more entertaining and also educational than Gordon had anticipated.

“If I were a cowboy,” Joshua said as Gordon tucked him into bed after the end of the documentary, “I would have a pretty paint—painted horse. And we’d be best friends.”

“I know you would,” Gordon replied, as Joshua opened his mouth wide in a yawn.

“What color would your horse be, dad?”

“Hm,” Gordon said. Joshua’s eyes drooped as Gordon continued to stall the reply so his son would actually sleep. “Gray. With lots of spots.”

Joshua found the answer acceptable, and soon drifted off into sleep with a plush horse held tight. Gordon stayed by his side for a few minutes afterward, keeping watch vigilantly before he rose to stand with a pop of his back and returned to the living room.

“Bro, just think about it,” Benrey was saying from his position on the floor, using Sunkist as a pillow. “Cowboys and pirates are totally different. They have their own sets of rules and… and laws or whatever, but they’re different.”

“Yeah, okay,” Tommy replied, leaning against the arm of the couch, “But like… they both steal? And their code is pretty similar?”

“Stop. You’re saying wrong things. Illegal words.”

Gordon raised an eyebrow, unsure if it was safe to enter the apparently heated debate but deciding to do so anyway. “You have strong opinions on this?”

“Yes,” Benrey said insistently, looking up at Gordon with a pleading expression. “Cowboys are way different than pirates, right? Please? Please, agreement for Benrey?”

“I never said they aren’t different,” Tommy cut in, causing Gordon to laugh as he took a seat on the free side of the couch. “Just that they’re not necessarily better. From a… moral standpoint.”

“I don’t have to listen to this,” Benrey said, and turned to press his face into Sunkist’s long fur. Any further complaints he had were then muffled to an unintelligible degree. Tommy shrugged sheepishly at Gordon.

“Cowboys aren’t so bad,” Gordon said, stretching out with a sigh. “Maybe it’s just because Josh talks about them so much, but I don’t think I’d mind being one. It’s at least something productive to do with my life. And boy, do I need that. Got any tips, productive one? Things alright?”

“Yeah,” Tommy said, nodding, “They’re as good as can be. I kinda miss the… the time alone, I guess, that being a scientist gave. It was quiet. But I wouldn’t give up what I have now.”

“Sounds nice,” Gordon said, “Maybe I should take notes.”

A soft noise from Benrey brought his attention back downward. Benrey still was leaning against Sunkist, but his face was visible once again, though his expression was unreadable even to Gordon.

“What?”

“You’re so worried about giving yourself a… a purpose,” Benrey said, knitting his brow in a singular sign of irritation, or perhaps worry. “Maybe you should try calming down. Chilling out. Kicking it with your friends instead of running off to… play hero.”

Gordon frowned, and Tommy cleared his throat somewhat uncomfortably next to him. If he didn’t think too hard about it, the comment could be passed off as another thing Benrey said just to say. But Gordon knew better, and yet, it wasn’t the right situation to shine a light on Benrey’s fears and expose him when he might not want to be seen.

“Alright,” Gordon said, stretching to grab the TV remote where it lay forgotten on the table. “Any requests?”

“Did we ever finish Halloween 5?”

A few hours and a few movies later, and Joshua wasn’t the only one asleep in the apartment.

Gordon had missed it happening. He had been too preoccupied debating with Tommy over the difference between cash grabs and actual creative plot continuation, until he tried to tag in Benrey for input and received no response.

When he glanced down to check, he found Benrey fast asleep, sprawled out on the floor with Sunkist curled comfortably behind him. The dog was just as deeply unconscious as Benrey, and upon noticing Gordon’s silence Tommy followed his gaze to the pair and let out a quiet chuckle.

“That’s a rare sight, huh?”

“Yeah, not how I thought the night would end,” Gordon said. He continued to watch Benrey breathe peacefully while questions formed on his tongue, and there were only a few short moments before his curiosity overtook his common sense. “Hey—I don’t know if I should be asking this, but… I figure you’re the one most likely to know with your dad and everything. Tommy, what is he?”

Next to him, Tommy shifted uncomfortably, clearly not pleased with the nature of Gordon’s question. “Why do you need to know? Aren’t things fine?”

“Yeah, no, I—I’m not asking because I want to put him under a microscope,” Gordon said, throwing up a hand in defense. “I just… want to understand him better.”

“I don’t think I… really know the answer to that. Not the one you probably want. Um, I think… I think Benrey’s closer to us than you might give him credit for, Gordon. At least he is now.”

Gordon’s eyes never left the sleeping figure, but his mind wandered to the farthest reaches of thought and back again before he even had time to blink. There was so much he wanted to know, so many theories he had—but to be fair to someone he cared about, he did his best to push them all away

“I… I guess so, yeah. What do you mean by now, though? He wasn’t before?”

Tommy tapped a finger against his chin in thought, seemingly placated in the fact that Gordon’s intentions were good. “He… maybe? I didn’t really know him well before… everything. I don’t know where he came from. I just know he was—he was there and he didn’t—he was just always around. Always awake. Always… lonely.”

“And now he’s passed out on my living room floor,” Gordon said. “What a twist.”

“The fact that he feels comfortable enough to do that, it's a sign of… of trust! So I think, maybe, if you’re worried about understanding him, you need to—you just actually have to pay attention to him.”

“Ouch.”

“Maybe I worded that… bad,” Tommy said, sheepishly rubbing at the back of his neck. “Uh—Benrey probably wouldn’t like hearing my personal analysis, so I’ll stop soon, but… I guess the most important thing I’m trying to say is that he—he’s just as much a casualty of Black Mesa as the… rest of us.”

Gordon fell silent, letting Tommy’s words sink deep into him. It was easy to forget, sometimes. Between Benrey’s strange characteristics and his apathetic behavior, sometimes it seemed like the disconnect between him and the world around him was too large a gap to bridge. Even for Gordon, who knew Benrey at his most vulnerable, and his most terrifying.

Just how many lives had Black Mesa claimed?

But he knew Benrey at his best, too. Gordon knew Benrey to be thoughtful and curious, driven by a force no one bothered to understand that led him in the direction of caring as best he could for those that still remained in his life. Gordon knew Benrey to be far too stubborn to let what he had experienced weigh him down for long, and Gordon knew that he both envied and admired that trait with his entire being.

“Tommy?” Gordon asked, heart weighing heavy in chest.

“Yeah?”

“I think that I…” he said, and trailed off as the words left his mouth dry. “I think that I love him.”

Tommy was silent for what seemed like a very long time. “Oh,” he said, finally.

“Yeah, uh—a while ago, we… we had a discussion and he almost said it to me. That he… well, y’know. And I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. I don’t know if that’s… wrong.”

“Wrong how?”

“I mean, what if I just love the closeness of someone else, and it’s not because it’s him?” Gordon asked, running a hand through the strands of hair that had escaped his ponytail. “But what if it is him? Is it even like… ethical for me to feel this way? After what we did—”

“Gordon,” Tommy cut in, holding up a hand as a sign to stop. “Sorry. I, uh—I don’t think I’m the one you should be having this conversation with.”

Gordon swallowed drily, embarrassment coloring his face as he focused his gaze on anything that wasn’t Tommy or the subject of conversation himself. “Yeah, I—yeah. Guess so.”

Tommy seemed just as awkward as Gordon felt, though his expression softened slightly. “I don’t want you to think that you can’t talk to me, you—it’s fine. I want you to talk to me. I just, um… yeah.”

“No, I get it,” Gordon said, “And I don’t wanna be the one laying all my problems on you anyway. What about your problems?”

“I pay my therapist for that, you know. But I’m okay. I’m still keeping busy, like I said. I’m happy.”

“They’d probably do a better job than me, anyway.” Gordon let out a wry chuckle. “It’s good to hear that. I should probably head to bed, though. Thanks—for stopping by, and you know, everything. You always seem to say the right things.”

Tommy nodded, and stood up from the couch to make his way carefully to the front door, though not before crouching to rouse Sunkist and make sure she didn’t wake Benrey as she followed sleepily behind him. He then opened the door as quietly as he could, and turned back to lean against the frame and fix Gordon with a genuine smile.

“I had fun! I’m glad we’re making the movie marathon a—a thing. We should do it again sometime. And thanks for saying that thing, it means a lot. ‘Cause I’m really bad with words… Um… Gordon?”

“What’s up?” Gordon asked.

“I don’t wanna overstep into places I shouldn’t be stepping, but I think… Benrey was right. And you should listen to him.”

Gordon paused, for a moment just watching Tommy fidget in place. “I—you’re not overstepping. It’s… fine. Listen to him about what?”

“Just… You don’t have to try so hard for your life to mean something, okay? I do it because it’s good for—for me, but I don’t know what’s good for you. But if you’re alive, then… we’re happy. Especially Benrey. And if you really feel that way about him, then—well, yeah. Um. I hope everything works out.”

Tommy reached over to put a comforting hand on Gordon’s shoulder, warmth radiating from him in a classic Tommy way. Next to him, Sunkist wagged her tail against Gordon’s leg, almost throwing him off balance in her sudden vigor.

“Thanks, Tommy. Get some rest. And give Sunkist a treat for me, yeah?”

The dog’s ears perked up at the mention of the word treat, and it was all Gordon could do to give her a pat on the head.

“Of course I will,” Tommy said, laughing slightly to himself. “Bye.”

The door shut with a dull click, leaving Gordon alone with his thoughts for only a few moments before he turned back to assess the situation on his living room floor. Theoretically, he could just leave Benrey there. It probably wouldn’t hurt, especially considering the fact that Gordon hadn’t actually thought about sleeping arrangements yet.

Benrey’s comment of I sleep in your bed, dude, echoed in his head the more he considered it, causing him to sigh as he mulled over the decision for just a while longer.

Benrey sharing his bed was… fine. It was fine. It was nice to hold onto someone at night, to not wake up alone. It kept the nightmares away, and it wasn’t like the two of them were strangers to it at the current point in time. But making it official? That required coming to terms with things that Gordon was rapidly becoming very aware of, but hoping to ignore for as long as he could.

Although, looking for advice on a rushed love confession didn’t leave much wiggle room. It would probably be easiest for everyone involved and semi-involved to just nut up and admit it.

Jesus, even his own conscience was fighting now?

To ignore that slightly disturbing note, Gordon knelt by Benrey and put a firm hand on his shoulder, reminiscent of multiple mornings he had experienced before. “Wake up, sleeping beauty. Unless you wanna spend the whole night on the floor.”

Benrey stirred underneath his touch surprisingly quickly, though it was only to attempt to wiggle away with a groan and slurred words. “Floor’s not… so bad. Mm—I might.”

“Yeah, you say that,” Gordon said with a roll of his eyes, and then stood up to fake walking away as slowly as he could. “I’m leaving now. I’m going down the hall without you. I’m almost gone.”

“No!” Benrey cried out, head whipping up to check if Gordon had actually left him. Apparently he found the short distance between them enough to be upsetting, because he reached out an arm and let it flop on the ground in a pathetic attempt to get Gordon’s attention. “Come baaack.”

“Just get up, and then you can go right back to sleep,” Gordon said. “You’ll thank me later. When you don’t wake up with an aching back all by yourself, because I’m gonna go to bed regardless. In my bed. Which is soft. And comfortable.”

“Uuuugh,” was Benrey’s only reply.

The next few days proved to be… well, comfortable.

Gordon had been slightly afraid that being around Benrey 24/7 would flip some switch in his brain that caused him to be absolutely horrible, but he was as laid back as he always was whenever they hung out. Sometimes he would say something cursed, or have some desire to eat something entirely not edible, or leave his clothes lying around on the floor directly where Gordon could trip on them.

But he was a surprisingly good roommate. He picked up after himself with some slight prodding to help him remember, and most times he made Gordon laugh over making him irritated. And having him around had Joshua over the moon. The two of them were practically inseparable, and often ganged up on Gordon to tease him or coerce him into buying that new game they both really wanted to try.

Which was fine, Gordon supposed—Animal Crossing was cute and he had heard great things about Stardew Valley. His problem, and the thing he would never tell them, was that he was disappointed he didn’t get to play too. He was hoping they would just pick up on his poorly dropped hints and invite him to play with them, but so far no luck.

The other problem about having Benrey around full time was that he had absolutely no concept of personal space.

To which… Gordon couldn’t really say anything. It wasn’t even really a problem; the two of them spent more time wrapped up in each other than not, often at Gordon’s initiation—being touch starved for years and then being thrown together with someone who had the same penchant for physical affection tended to have that effect. But with every invitation Gordon gave, he always left it open, always let Benrey decide whether or not to bridge that gap.

When the choice was left to him, Benrey had a habit of existing comfortably in his own space and in Gordon’s as well. So, it wasn’t surprising when Gordon felt the other’s presence behind him, and it wasn’t surprising when Benrey casually laced his fingers together as he leaned over Gordon, elbows planted firmly on his shoulders.

“Can I help you?” Gordon asked, not even bothering to try and look up.

“Maybe, maaaaybe,” Benrey replied, and Gordon felt the telltale pressure of Benrey’s chin on the top of his head. “Real comfy there, Gordos. Answer something for me, please? Yes? What happened to the old sheets?”

“The… sheets? The bed sheets?” Benrey’s answer was a nod, which caused Gordon to be wiggled as well. “Oh, I got rid of them when you moved in. They were old, so I figured it was as good a time as any.”

“No, bro, why?” Benrey complained, prompting Gordon to raise an eyebrow. “They were so… good. Nice. Whatever you have now sucks. Can’t sleep, it’s all… static. All over my skin.”

“Wait, wait,” Gordon said, pulling away from Benrey’s loose hold of him to turn around and look him in the eye directly. “You’ve been uncomfortable since you moved in to the point that you haven’t been sleeping, and you’re only telling me this now?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Why?”

“I dunno,” Benrey said with a shrug. “Figured it wasn’t important. Thought they would come back eventually, just recover the save.”

“Benrey, you know your comfort is important to me,” Gordon said gently, hyper aware of the way Benrey started fidgeting underneath his gaze. “Next time you need something, tell me, okay? We can go to the store and pick out new ones, no problem.”

Benrey pulled away from the back of the couch to cross his arms. “What, like right now?”

“Yeah, why not? I’m sure Josh will be happy for the trip out. He’s been in his room since it’s been rainy, why don’t you go get him?”

Gordon was fixed with a quizzical look, but Benrey did as he was told, disappearing down the hall to Joshua’s bedroom. That gave Gordon enough time to grab his wallet and his son’s coat, and when he had everything ready he could hear Joshua chatting happily away as he explained the ideas for his new drawing to Benrey.

“I want to make the sky purple!”

“Awesome, little dude.”

Joshua made a quiet humming noise, then looked to Gordon for affirmation. Gordon nodded, and bent down to help him into his coat and secure the buttons comfortably. Joshua bounced on his feet in excitement, looking like he was ready to run out the door the second Gordon let go.

“Where are we going?”

“Just to the bus stop, and then down to the store,” Gordon said, taking extra care to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. “Hold on for just a second. You need to keep your coat on and hold my hand the whole way there, okay?”

“Okay,” Joshua said with a slight nod.

Behind him, Benrey held out a hand and smirked in the way that instilled Gordon with a deep sense of fear for whatever was about to come out of his mouth. “Do I get my hand held too?”

“That depends. Can I trust you not to run out into oncoming traffic?”

“Ye—no…?” Pausing for a second, Benrey seemed to consider the question with a grave seriousness. “Which answer gets me the most points? I’m not cheating on the test, professor.”

Gordon rolled his eyes and grabbed Benrey’s outstretched hand. “You already flunked.”

The walk to the bus stop was as uneventful as the actual ride to the store. It was a mundane task, but Gordon was with his family and he was happy for it. He permitted Joshua to jump in one puddle on the way in, since it looked small enough that he wouldn’t end up soaked while they were shopping.

Satisfied, Joshua behaved once they were inside the store, and trailed after the two of them as they arrived in the bedding section.

“These are my blankets,” he said to Benrey in the best sales pitch voice a five year old could muster, pointing at a set that Gordon only vaguely remembered being begged for. “They’re the softest in the whole world. I like this one best but if you want another one I can let you borrow mine.”

“It’s alright, bud,” Gordon said. “We’re not here for blankets. It’s a bit hot for that.”

“Okay. Can we get snacks?”

“What kind of snacks? You know we have some at home.”

Joshua stuck out his tongue. “Nooo. I want new snacks. Orange crackers and… and, um…”

“We want ice cream,” Benrey cut in, not even paying attention to the contents of the aisle to instead fix Gordon with a smirk.

“Don’t encourage him. Fine, Josh, we can go look at snacks soon. You,” Gordon said, and pointed to Benrey, “make sure you’re actually feeling them. Pick something out you like, I’m not really picky.”

“Woah, really? I can get anything I want?”

“I guess?”

Of course, Benrey took that freedom as a challenge. He immediately started scanning the shelves with a determined eye, searching with goals in mind that Gordon could only dream of understanding. After about thirty seconds, he made a beeline to the ugliest pattern of colors that Gordon had ever seen and crouched in front of it triumphantly.

“This.”

“No. You didn’t even feel it.”

“It’s great,” Benrey said, and lifted a hand to run along the fabric. Almost immediately, he recoiled. “Oh, it’s sucks, actually. I hate this.”

“That’s why I told you to do that to begin with,” Gordon said in exasperation. “Don’t pick based on color, go for texture first. Josh, you wanna help him find soft things that aren’t blankets?”

“I want snacks,” Joshua said, but wandered over to help Benrey anyway.

The number of things he could reach was more limited, but he seemed confident in finding something comfortable. Soon, Joshua patted his hand against a set of solid gray top sheets. Benrey followed his guide, giving it a test feel with deep consideration.

“Yeah, this is okay. But it’s boring.”

“Really? What sort of style do you want then?” Gordon asked.

Benrey raised an eyebrow as if the answer were obvious. “Little rats with pizza skateboards.”

Gordon let out a harsh laugh, surprised by how much capacity Benrey had left to astound him. “I love you, but no way I’m putting that in my bedroom.”

It was like a plate had been dropped. Benrey froze, standing in complete silence while Gordon continued to giggle until he realized what he had said and suddenly stuttered to a halt. Joshua looked curiously between the two of them, most likely trying to figure out why his dad had broken Benrey.

“Can we go now?”

“Yeah, we can… uh, let’s go look at snacks now,” Gordon said, face beet red as he ushered Joshua over. “Benrey, just come find us when you’re—when you’re done.”

The bus ride home and the time after was just as uneventful as the trip up had been, yet entirely different.

Benrey remained uncharacteristically quiet the entire night, the way he usually was when he was upset over something big. He still kept Joshua company, showing off his favorite villagers with the occasional commentary, but it was mainly Gordon who supplied the bad jokes and small talk.

He was trying his best, but his mind was elsewhere—he couldn’t stop thinking about those three little words and how right they had felt to say. Without even thinking, no worry about the consequences or the implications, to just come out and say it.

I love you.

When Gordon went to bed that night, things still felt off.

Not necessarily bad, but the atmosphere in the dark room had changed drastically from what it normally felt like. To say he felt like a stranger in his own home would not be entirely inaccurate.

For one, Benrey was already curled deep within his self-made nest of blankets. The light of his phone screen dimly illuminated the wall when Gordon walked in, but other than that nothing much was visible. Gordon knew that pose—he had spent weeks living it by himself, defensive and closed off.

On most nights, Gordon was the first to bed. Despite his tendency to be a night owl, and Benrey’s tendency to encourage that bad habit, he preferred to wake up while the sun was still in the sky. Benrey usually mirrored him by staying up late, crawling into bed once Gordon was close to being asleep or already there, and then remaining dead to the world until after lunch.

To see him tucked in so early was definitely strange. He didn’t look upset, and Gordon hoped that was true, considering both of them had a knack for avoiding important conversations. And after what Gordon had let slip, an important conversation was probably needed.

And yet, like the stubborn bastard he was, Gordon climbed into bed without much of a word. It was easy enough to just browse the internet on his own phone and let the storm brew in the background until it reached a turning point—that’s practically all he ever did when it came to Benrey. Still, Gordon owed it to him to at least try and be better.

“Benrey?” Gordon asked, leaning on his elbow to try and see over the mass of blankets next to him.

“What’s up?” Benrey said.

“You good?”

“Peachy,” Benrey replied, and Gordon took that as a sign to roll onto his back with a barely audible sigh and stare up at the long shadows trailing across the ceiling.

The whole scene felt like something directly out of a sitcom about a married couple, which only made Gordon more frustrated because god damn it all, he was a grown man and he wouldn’t fit in one of those cheesy shows. Even if he did occasionally leave them on the background if he came across them while channel surfing. Which was rare.

Eventually, Benrey’s phone went dark and the sound of shuffling was the only thing that could be heard for a few short moments, until it quieted and the air was filled with heavy silence once again. Chancing a look next to him, Gordon could barely make out the faint outline of Benrey’s form in the dark, now freed of his blanket cocoon. His back was turned, but he still felt closer than he had before.

Gordon remained alert the whole time while the minutes ticked away. He felt too much like he had to be there for Benrey, like he was being selfish if he ignored what was happening, despite the fact that he knew every bad scenario was only happening in his head. Things were fine. Nothing had changed between them.

But he wanted them to.

Gordon didn’t regret what he said. And that wasn’t the scary part—the scary part was that Benrey might be upset with him for saying it, but honestly, Gordon couldn’t blame him if he was. Even for someone slightly out of touch with every emotion that existed, a constant hot and cold shift from someone you had clumsily admitted feelings for couldn’t be fun.

Benrey shifted slightly, and Gordon was drawn toward him like a beacon.

“Hey,” he said softly, testing the waters. “You still awake?”

Time had passed by like a haze; Gordon wasn’t sure how long it had been since he first laid down. Benrey let out a breath like he was considering something, and even in the hazy dark Gordon could see him force his shoulders to relax.

“Yeah. Hard to sleep when you keep chattering, man.”

The snide remark was so characteristically Benrey that Gordon found himself smiling, though it didn’t do much for actually shutting him up.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “Can’t help it.”

“Yeah, I know,” came Benrey’s reply, soft both in volume and tone. “Idiot little baby man can’t keep all his thoughts in one place. S’alright, I like it when you talk.”

“Good thing I have you to help me keep track of them,” Gordon said. He scooted closer to Benrey to put a gentle hand on his back as he spoke, then paused when he felt the other tense up. “You okay?”

“Yep. Yeah. Fine. Just… uh, don’t wanna. Don’t wanna make you feel all… weird. With the—the feelings.”

Immediately, Gordon softened, warmth flooding his heart at the notion that of course Benrey was so on edge because he was worried about making Gordon uncomfortable. He was worried about somehow crossing a line when Gordon was the one constantly moving them.

“It’s okay,” Gordon said, and crept closer until Benrey fit neatly against him. “I haven’t been super… clear with what’s been going on in my head.”

Benrey didn’t try to move away from the new development of practically being spooned, so Gordon took that as a sign to continue. Gentle affections were most easy in the dark, when there was no other feeling to focus on besides what felt right. In the night’s calm, all Gordon could hear was his own breathing.

“Seems kinda clear right now,” Benrey finally said after a few moments. “You been using, uh, window cleaner? To see better?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

Gordon fell silent. All the points in the universe seemed to align and slowly, he moved until there was hardly any space left between them. In a great moment of bravery, or perhaps stupidity, Gordon pressed his lips against the nape of Benrey’s neck in a gentle kiss.

The reaction was instantaneous. Benrey sucked in a breath, and for the second time that day Gordon worried that he had overstepped a boundary or broken down some barrier he was incapable of fixing. But he had come too far to turn back, and he had things he needed to say.

Benrey gave Gordon a nudge with his shoulder, seemingly unbothered after having recovered from the initial surprise. “Feeling a bit sappy there, huh? Gayass?”

“Yeah,” Gordon said, because of course this would be impossible. “C’mere, sit up.”

Despite his need for every comment that came out of his mouth to be absolutely insufferable, Benrey did as he was told, wiggling away from Gordon to turn around and pull himself into a sitting position. Gordon did the same, resting on his knees and making sure they were facing each other. Even in the dark, he felt better knowing he had Benrey’s full attention.

“Alright, listen. I say stupid shit a lot. I think that’s a common trait among us. I say things without thinking and then I end up regretting them. And what I said earlier was one of those things.”

“Wh—“

“No, listen,” Gordon said, though as he spoke he reached forward to put a reassuring hand on Benrey’s knee. “It’s not… because I didn’t mean it, or whatever. It’s actually because I did. And that really got me thinking—and I don’t want to make things, uh, confusing for you either. So I’m trying to… to just be straightforward, and I’m not good with these kinds of things! This is actually really hard!”

“Gordon, chill,” Benrey said, interrupting Gordon just to get him to stop and take a breath. His voice sounded small, and Gordon took the tiniest bit of comfort in the knowledge that Benrey was just as fucked up over the whole thing as he was.

“I’m—I’m chill. I just don’t really know how to come out and say these things, so, I’ll just do it? I… love you.”

Benrey didn’t respond at first, then let out a sudden nervous laugh. “You love me? I’ve heard you say that sort of thing to Tommy. You’re so worked up. Are you shaking?”

“Dooon’t be difficult,” Gordon whined, unsure of how much more his heart could take. “This does not have to be difficult. Come on dude, we both know we’re terrible at speaking! But there is some real… stuff going on between us and I think it’d make me a real dickwad to ignore it—okay, I love you, I want to kiss you, I want to hold your hand in a very homosexual manner, at least partially because I’m actually bi. Do you get me?”

If Gordon thought he was going to short circuit, he couldn’t even imagine the sort of action that must have been happening inside Benrey’s head. “I… yeah. I got—um, yep. That. Get the. You—uh huh.”

Actions were better than words when words became impossible, and so Gordon wrapped his arms around Benrey in a comforting hug, pulling him close and letting him bury his face against his shoulder. For a while, they simply stayed like that, letting reality and comfort sink in.

Until Benrey pulled away, but not so far that he felt distant. “So, what? Are you my epic boyfriend now, full time?”

“How about we… talk about that tomorrow?” Gordon asked, knowing it was a coward’s way out. But it was also the middle of the night, and admitting his feelings to both himself and then to Benrey had taken work and energy he just simply couldn’t keep up with. “I’m not trying to shrug you off. We’ll have a conversation when we’re both more calm, okay?”

“Yeah, cool. I, uh… I think I could use the time to. Practice. What I’m going to say.”

“Whatever helps,” Gordon said. “Hey, I never got the chance to ask. Are the sheets better?”

“Yeah, fine, better than air sausage,” Benrey said.

Gordon paused. What did that even mean? “What?”

“What, you more partial to water sausage?”

“I hate you.”

“I have evidence that proves otherwise,” Benrey said.

He did have a point, considering Gordon still had his arms loosely wrapped around Benrey’s waist. But that only gave him the upper hand he needed to knock Benrey over by tackling him onto the mattress, and in a flash Gordon grabbed a stray pillow and used it to muffle any further comments Benrey had.

“Bro!” Benrey complained when Gordon took mercy on him and set him free, then quickly grabbed the offending pillow and tossed it into the corner of the room. “You lookin’ to fight? 1v1 me, fair and square.”

“What, a pillow fight?” Gordon asked, and though he rolled his eyes he couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yeah, you wish you could beat me. Let’s go, but if you wake up Joshua you’re dealing with that one all by yourself.”