Work Text:
Barry was stuck in limbo. It was like death row, waiting for his number to be called, waiting for his last meal: his own blood in his mouth.
He'd known it was too good to be true, Rafe behind bars. The wealthy never stay locked up like that. He'd been naive.
He'd been vindictive.
I don't particularly dislike you, Rafe. That's what he'd said before the pigs closed in, and it was true. Even now. Even when Barry was waiting for Rafe to come crashing through his front door, armed to the teeth with hard feelings and white-hot rage.
Only a matter of time. Barry knew that, had known it since he'd seen Rafe's dead-eyed mugshot on the local news above the headline "CAMERON SON GOES FREE." They'd released a rabid, raving animal back into the world like it was nothing. Like he wouldn't go straight to Barry's place with the intent to kill.
Weeks passed following Rafe's release. Weeks of waiting, of nightmares and bad trips where Barry felt Rafe's hands around his throat, crushing his windpipe into shards.
In these fantasies, Rafe was always laughing.
It got to the point where Barry wanted to find Rafe first. Track him down, grab him by the shoulders and say, Go on, then, baby. Do your fuckin' worst.
The most sensible option would be leaving the county, the state, the entire damn country. Crash at his uncle's place in Saltillo. But there'd never been anything sensible about this. Him and Rafe, eating each other alive. To the bone. No winners, no survivors.
It was nice to have an equal.
So Barry waited. Kept moving coke, kept fixing power lines, kept laying awake at night with Rafe's phantom weight on top of him. He lived like that until a Sunday night in mid-October, watching Friday the 13th on his boxy old TV from the 90s, the kind that'd shock somebody if they touched the screen.
Barry watched through half-lidded eyes as Mrs. Voorhees drove her knife in deep, joint dangling between his fingers. He was tired. Tired of waiting around for Rafe's storm to roll in and swallow him.
C'mon, Rafe, Barry thought, lifting his hand to take another hit. I'm right here, boy. Come'n get me.
Half a second later, something slammed against the front door. The entire trailer shook. Barry went perfectly still, bloodshot eyes sliding toward the door.
No fucking way.
Barry waited, air stagnating in his chest. Maybe he'd imagined it. Maybe it'd been in the movie.
Then it happened again: bang, bang, bang.
Not his imagination. Not the movie.
Barry got up from the couch as if in slow motion. He thought about grabbing a knife, a gun, but what was the point? If Rafe wanted him dead, it'd get done. No point in prolonging it.
So Barry opened the door.
Rafe stared down at him, outlined in watery moonlight, hands braced against the door frame. Barry stared back, and found himself smiling. All the terror went out of him. He'd expected it to feel like Judgement Day, but all he could think was, Finally.
"'Bout damn time you came to see me," Barry murmured, crossing his big arms. "Been way too quiet 'round here."
"I was in Guadeloupe with my family," Rafe said, moving forward. Backing Barry into the trailer. He didn't say family like he usually did. Like it was a religion to be worshipped.
"Yeah?" Barry looked him up and down, one eyebrow raised. "Why'd you come back?"
"For you."
And Barry knew Rafe was there to split him open, but it made his heart stutter anyway. Intimacy was intimacy. He smiled. "Still mad I put your sorry ass in jail, huh?"
"I don't care about that shit," Rafe said simply, shrugging. "Not anymore."
"Then why the fuck you here, baby boy?" Barry pressed, because why else would Rafe leave the fantasy of a nuclear family, something he'd literally killed for, miles behind him? Why would he drop everything he'd ever wanted and come here, to Barry's piece of shit trailer? What could possibly be the reasoning behind something like that?
The explanation was found somewhere in the way Rafe kissed him: rough and hungry, big hands grabbing Barry's face, nails digging in as if to anchor him to this moment. Barry's bottom lip bled gladly between Rafe's teeth.
"I missed you," Rafe breathed against Barry's bloodied mouth, voice breaking at the edges, and Barry just laughed, at a loss. In total disbelief that he wasn't dead right now.
"You're so fuckin' crazy," he told Rafe, which roughly translated to I missed you, too.