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It takes Nux about a week to gather up his courage to ask Capable to come down from the Green with him. He doesn’t want to seem ungrateful, like he doesn’t like the high life she’s offering him in return for nothing he’s not happy to give.
But…
He misses his mates. He misses being around loud, boisterous war boys, always milling about and talking shop. He misses the smell of paint and engine grease, misses tripping over a wrench on his way to the latrines, even.
He doesn’t admit that he misses Slit.
His lancer — if he still is that — is a bit of a sore point between them. Capable doesn’t trust him — “I’m not asking you to, honest, I’m not. Fuck, I hardly do, most days,” Nux keeps saying — and word up the ladders is that he’s still spitting guzzoline onto the dying flames of Immortan Joe’s legacy.
Slit’s spitting a lot, actually, curled up surly and pissed in some corner or other, like a rock lizard wedged into his hole and hissing at everyone that passes. Like some of the other old war boys who survived the war — the War, they’re calling it, or the Women’s War — he has not taken well to the change in command. Nux gets it. He’d be raving too, if he hadn’t seen what he saw, on the Fury Road.
Nux has gone down to the dark corridors of his puphood alone, sometimes, leaving Capable with the rest of the Sisters. He’s tried smoothing things over with the war boys who still grumble about traitoring. He has even tried smoothing things over with Slit, but that’s like trying to wear out the tracks in your tires: you have to spin crazy for days and days before anything happens.
So Nux asks Capable to go down with him. She’s soft, and gentle, and there’s that hard look in her eye that Nux is sure could stop a war rig itself. Maybe she can get through to Slit.
She clings to his hand the whole way down, but keeps her chin high. Nux grins at her, proud to be seen in her shadow.
They find Slit holed up, as usual, although this time he is on a proper bunk. He’s nursing his new scars, poking at the old, and looking like shit.
“Hey, lancer, do you ever feed your engine?” Nux calls out, tossing Slit one of the travel biscuits he’s taken to keeping in his pockets. He likes that, having food on him, not having to worry so much about his head copping out from hunger.
“Fuck off,” Slit grumbles, snatching the biscuit from the air. He rests his head back on an arm and closes his eyes.
Nux waits, expecting more, but when Slit adds no further insult he gives Capable a worried look. “Wait here a sec’?”
Capable nods, taking a step back so she can lean comfortably against a wall.
Slit cracks an eye open. “Who’re you talking—“ His eyes snap open when he spots Capable. “Shit, Nux.” He sits up, pointing at Capable. “What’s one of the breeders—" He winces, catching himself. “No, the— one of the—" He snaps his fingers, searching for the word. “Them wives.” Another snap. “Sisters. What’s she doing here?”
Slit’s entire pose is aggressive, assertive, but Nux catches the confused edge in his voice. “Hey, easy there, mate.” He sits down beside Slit, then cups his face and drags it towards him when Slit won’t stop staring. “I’m over here.”
Slit blinks at the boy who used to be his driver. “What’s going on?” he says carefully.
Up close, and in the better light of the sleeping den, Nux can see that Slit looks terrible. He took long enough to recover from his wounds — burns on his skin and cracks in his bones. Nothing a dash of paint and a bit of welding wouldn’t fix, Slit kept joking, if he didn’t cop out — that Nux confessed to Capable one night that he was actually scared of Slit dying soft, and maybe he should shank him, give Slit a proper death.
Capable’s face at the suggestion still haunts Nux.
Nux drops his hands from Slit’s face and shrugs. “Wanted to make sure you were still kicking.” He pokes at the biscuit in Slit’s hand. “You’re not eating, from the look of it.”
Slit eyes him warily. This is within the range of typical Nux behaviour, but— “What about…” Slit jerks his head towards Capable. “Her?”
Capable steels herself and steps forward until she’s in front of the two war boys. “Capable,” she says. “And Nux’s worrying got me worried.”
Slit pulls a face at that, then turns to Nux like he’s just caught him spitting in his grub. “Fuck’s sake, mate. You’re all soft.”
Nux rolls his eyes.
Capable sits down beside Slit, trapping him between her and Nux. At her proximity, Slit stiffens, but does not acknowledge her new position.
“Nux?” This time Slit sounds almost scared.
“Told you.” Nux sets a hand to Slit’s knee. “I was worried.”
Slit’s mouth has gone dry and words fall out of them by rote. “You’ve been plenty worried.” He means all the other times Nux has come hunting for him, poking and fussing. This is the first time he’s brought a— Capable.
Nux nods. “Tank got full,” he explains. There was only so much worry he could stand.
Nux catches Capable’s gaze and sees how she bites her lip, considering. He’s sworn up and down that he won’t let Slit hurt her — that Slit wouldn’t hurt her — and she said she believed him. Now, he sees doubt edging in, but then Capable puts her hand to Slit’s other knee. Her face now has that firm steel look about it, the one she levelled at him time and again on the rig, that made him shift gears so easily for her.
Slit flinches at her touch, then slowly looks down at his knee. He doesn’t look at Capable, not directly.
“Are you going to toss me down to the Wretched?” he says quietly, and it takes them a moment to realise he’s talking to Capable.
“Why do you think that?”
Slit shrugs, just a tight twitch of his shoulders, and angles his face towards Nux again. “‘Cause I like war.”
Capable smiles a little. “You’re a war boy.”
Slit tries again. “‘Cause I don’t like the— the new system.”
“We don’t expect you to. Not right away.” Capable squeezes Slit’s knee, and he twitches like he’s been stabbed. Capable makes to snatch her hand away, but Nux reaches across and lightly presses her hand back down. She lets him, which he hadn’t really been expecting.
Nux’s face is inches away from Slit’s now. He can feel his breath — quick and hot — on his mouth.
“What the bleeding fuck are you doing?” Slit whispers.
Nux doesn’t answer. Capable touches her free hand to Slit’s shoulder, and this time only Slit’s lips tighten at the touch. Nux is so close he can almost feel them move.
“You should eat,” she suggests. Nux nods his head in agreement.
Slit shakes his head, like he can’t quite grip what is happening, and turns from Nux, stuffing the whole biscuit into his mouth. It’s dry and takes a while to chew, but he gets it down. “Happy? he says to neither of them in particular.
Nux smiles and bumps his forehead against Slit’s shoulder.
“Have another one,” Capable says, just as soft, and Nux reaches into his pockets, offering Slit another biscuit. Slit dutifully takes it and gives it the same treatment.
Nux holds back the desire to give a quiet cheer. He’s sure, right down to his bones, that Slit would not have eaten the biscuit if it had been just him telling him to eat. He’s sure, too, that if it had been just Capable telling him, he would have run off, snake-quick, into whatever corridor was closest. But the two of them together, he seems to respond to that.
They get a decent meal into Slit that way. By the time Nux’s pockets are empty, Slit is leaning against the wall, nibbling on his last biscuit, apparently at ease with them. Or rather, with Capable.
“When’s the last time you slept?” she asks, and Slit tucks his chin against his chest. He angles his face towards Nux, but actually answers Capable’s question, which surprises them both.
“Can’t remember.” Short, clipped words, but his shoulders don’t tense. Nux takes it as a good sign.
Capable leans forward a little, sharing a concerned look with Nux. She understands why he was so fretful, now. It’s hard for her to get a good grip on war boys still, but she’s starting to learn that they, too, can have close partnerships and friendships. That it’s not all war and death and an old man’s lies.
“Why don’t you sleep now?” Capable lays soft fingertips — and Nux knows just how soft and smooth her hands are, unbelievably soft, like fine sand — on Slit’s temple. His grease is faded and badly smudged, the once-stark line now a dull grey wasteland.
For the first time, Slit turns to look at her. “What, now?”
Capable nods. “Mhmm.” She keeps stroking his forehead, and smiles when Slit unconsciously leans into her touch.
Nux bumps his forehead against Slit’s shoulder again, shoving him gently back. His lancer turns to look at him, the novelty of a full stomach making him slow. Nux presses a hand to his chest and guides him down onto the bunk. Slit doesn’t resist until his back is flush against the coarse canvas of his bedding, then he takes Nux’s wrist and twists his hand back sharply. It’s an easy, casual gesture, one that hardly takes Slit any effort, but Nux has seen him break a boy’s wrist like this.
Capable makes to stand, to pry Slit’s hand off, but Nux shakes his head at her.
“What,” Slit says again, his voice sharp now, awake and scared enough to be angry, “are you doing?”
Nux sighs in defeat. Fucking lancer is like a boulder a mile wide - you just can’t drive past him. “I had a plan, okay? I was worried about you — and how could I not? Look at you,” he says, gesturing at Slit sunken muscles and unkept paint. “I figured, me and Capable, we could work together to get you fixed up. We’d get you eating, maybe sleeping, too. Two black thumbs instead of one, that sort of thing. ”
Slit stares at him. “That is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had.”
Nux’s head drops and he whines a little, not in pain from his wrist, but because he really had thought this would work. He hears Capable stir again and looks up to see her gently take Slit’s hand and unwrap his fingers from Nux’s wrist. Slit stares at her like she’s working on an engine, or some other mechanical part that has nothing to do with him.
Slit lets her pull his fingers off enough for Nux’s wrist to straighten, the threat to his bones gone. Then he shakes her off and tugs Nux down, almost throwing Nux off his balance — which is pretty shit anyway. At least, Slit thinks so. Nux complains that he’s a freakish lizard of a lancer with twice his share of balance skills, but what does the pup know, right?
Nux falls on Slit’s chest, then gets shoved off to the side, trapped between Slit and the wall. Slit shuffles back, pressing himself against Nux’s gangly body. He doesn’t fancy a cold back, that’s all.
“Of course I’m in,” he tells the wriggling boy, and that stops Nux’s fussing right quick. He looks up at Capable, still sitting on the edge of his bunk. He’s curious to see what she’ll do.
Taking a deep breath, Capable lifts her legs to the bunk and lies back, her hands flat against her stomach. They barely fit together on the bunk. Nux flops an arm over Slit and takes Capable’s hand.
Slit sighs and brings his own hands up to his chest. His wrists graze Capable’s shoulder, but he tries not to think about it. Her right leg is flush against his, and he definitely doesn’t think about it. Instead, he shifts back even further, practically squeezing Nux against the wall, until he hears an annoyed squeak. There. Perfect.
Just like old times.
Slit looks at the shock of red in front of him and reconsiders. New times. But maybe they can be good, too.