Work Text:
Ajay had almost gotten used to Pagan’s constant radio chatter, come the end of it all, as his body had lurched from one last job to the next. It had almost been comforting, truth be told, running from yet another God damned honey badger while a mad King had rambled from his belt about boils and candles. If anything, it was better than the silence and his own rampaging doubts concerning the Golden Path.
A respite from a role he had never wanted in the first place. To follow in his father’s footsteps, as if that meant absolutely anything to him. He wanted to shake Sabal on more than one occasion, ask him why he should want to do this, why he should want to be his father? He had read a few of those journal entries, had watched this man who he was supposed to be so proud of fall further into anger and hate.
It was the same sort of comfort when he finally lowered that gun from Pagan’s forehead, had listened even more and had the whole sorry affair finally revealed to him. Had sat at that table with a man who had nearly been family, had loved his mother, had lost so much and was still willing to help. After what he’d done.
A man who had been so very willing to lose even more, leaving Ajay a bloody country with the same care you might leave someone the last chocolate. ‘Here, you have it, I’m full.’ As if Ajay had even wanted a country, when the only thing he really wanted was currently making himself comfortable in a helicopter, about to leave. So finally, when he realized that Pagan was truly leaving him to the mess that was Kyrat, he had grappled with that radio and spoken himself.
“Stay.”
And he had.
Listening to Pagan and living with him were two vastly different things, Ajay realized almost immediately. For one thing, radio Pagan – whilst a great show – could not be so easily ignored in person. He prodded when neglected, usually followed by an annoyed little tut when Ajay just stared at him somewhat guiltily. He had a way of almost silently invading Ajay’s personal space, which was funny the first few times but when he was just trying to read a damn book in peace, only to catch Pagan looming not six inches from his face? It got old fast. Especially when he wouldn’t stop laughing.
“Do you have nothing better to do?”
“Honestly?” A beat, Pagan swung his arm to rest all nonchalant between Ajay’s shoulders and the couch they share. “Nope, not anymore, my liege.”
“You need a hobby,” Ajay muttered, ignoring the other as he’s pulled into a one arm hug. Relaxes into the embrace a little too readily. It had been a frankly embarrassingly long time since someone showed any real affection toward him, without there being some need hidden just below the surface. Not since Mom. With a wiggle, Ajay brought the crown of his head snug against Pagan’s jaw. “Other than powdering your nose.” Spoken into his clavicle, Ajay felt that suppressed chortle of laughter in the chest against his shoulder.
“I have one.” A jiggle, Ajay was being jiggled. Why wasn’t he trying to escape? A valid question, swiftly ignored.
“Get a better one.”
Add to that Pagan’s odd shopping habits when his boredom hit a fever pitch; the sudden arrival of those oversized hockey jerseys for teams Ajay has never even heard of, instant ramen, Pop Tarts and something that looks suspiciously like a Bop It. They all sat in a messy little pile upon the coffee table that Pagan has his feet propped upon, the very image of satisfaction; like a cat whose just dragged a half dead mouse into the room.
God, he’s legitimately insane.
"I had it shipped in, my boy, from the Amazonian!" The flourish was over the top, the grin was over the top, there wasn’t one thing that was quite normal in the entire room.
"From Amazon," Gary muttered, more to himself than anyone else as he placed a neat little stack of paperwork to Ajay’s left. Fantastic.
"Shut up, Gary,” Pagan chimed, almost sweetly with a grin to match. He rolled his eyes to Ajay’s scorn, not the least bit mollified. “Ok, yes, Amazon.”
Ajay turned the ludicrous little toy over and over again, tempted to turn it on but not wanting to be seen ‘playing with his new things’, just in case Pagan turned smug. Is nearing thirty too old for a Bop It? Can he claim it as nostalgia? “Why did you get this crap?”
“You’re looking all sorts of homesick, dear; I thought a few creature comforts might stop your face from doing that thing.” Ajay frowns down at the packages of food, the cheap crap he would never consider worthy of nostalgia until he was suddenly in the middle of nowhere with a craving for Pepsi. It wasn’t like he even enjoyed the stuff, it was just familiar and comforting in a way that's hard to describe. A sharp finger poked him right between the eyebrows. “Yes, there, that thing.”
Ajay allowed two, ok, three more jabs to his furrowed brows before he knocked the hand away. “That’s not homesickness.”
“Not homesick, I see. So, my options are terrible gas,” Pagan looked almost sympathetic, all pouty in that ‘there there’ way of his, a hand patting at Ajay’s chest. When he does finally speak, Pagan’s voice is soft and had managed to tamper down his always there grin. “Or regretting the decision to stay.”
A pause, Ajay squirmed as Pagan looked him up and down with that slow, deliberate way of his. It almost felt like he was being measured for worth, scrutinized and sized up without the inherent threat he felt should always accompany such an act from such a man. “I asked you to stay, remember?”
Pagan snorted loudly, somehow keeping his dignity as he rifled through the bright confectionary and useless junk he’s bought in a haze of stupidity. “You didn’t want to rule by yourself.”
“I didn’t want to rule at all.”
And it wasn’t not even like Ajay had shouted; had barely raised his voice above a somewhat petulant grumble, hadn’t even performed a famous Ajay scowl that Pagan seemed to love prodding at painfully. The response from Pagan seemed a little over the top; a sharp exhale, a hand slapped against a pillow as he stood and glared. For a moment, he does nothing but stand there glaring, before another internal switch seemed to flip. A grin slid into place, effortless, blasé, and with a wave of a hand Pagan is back to carefree.
“Then don’t.” A shrug, Pagan dipped a hand into the assorted pile of e-numbers and mass-produced plastics to pluck out a bright blue box. “I accept my crown back, thank you. And I’m keeping the Pop Tarts as a coronation gift to me, you can go home,” Ajay’s cheek is patted twice with said Pop Tarts, an act that does nothing to break their shared eye contact as he watched the grin fall once again. “For God’s sake, Ajay. Do you want Kyrat or not? Every choice I give you results in ‘a face.’ Have you ever even heard of a smile?”
“I didn’t want Kyrat,” Ajay muttered, impulsively grabbing the hand that Pagan threw up in defeat. He latched on and stared with what was probably considered too much intensity, but fuck, he needs Pagan to get it. He tugged once, just enough to get Pagan to stop frowning at him that way, just enough to get him to think about what it is he’s trying so hard to say. All he received was more confusion, even if his harsh grip was returned.
So, he just, just kissed him. No finesse, there was no artful and effortless charm deployed on his part, nothing but that rising sense of panic as Ajay used their join hands to yank him toward him. It was very nearly a headbutt, all things considered, but at least his aim was true as he touched his lips to a very startled Pagan’s. He doesn’t so much as step back as throw distance between the two, both staring in a silence that was fast becoming uncomfortable. It was Pagan who decided that the level of awkward had reached critical levels; he laughed, just once and too soft to be a real Pagan Laugh, followed swiftly by a soft “Oh.”
“So, unless you’d be interested in coming with me, I’ll stay too.”
“Oh, Ajay.” They were still awkwardly holding hands, hands that have started to grow sweaty and Ajay is unsure which one of them is shaking. Maybe both, most probably it was just him after such a desperate move. Pagan doesn’t seem to mind, at least, if his smug little grin was anything to go by. He waved the Pop Tarts in his face. “You want the...?”