Chapter Text
Reggie didn’t tell his friends when he came back to San Francisco.
For one, he wanted to return in Wrench style. Lots of fireworks, some explosives, maybe a big banner in the sky, too. Only that plan never ended up happening, since other, far more pressing issues came to the forefront. He liked the chaotic rush and the welcome distraction of London's DedSec as much as the next guy, but after a few too many trips to the hospital, he decided he needed a bit of a break. It had been too long since he'd done the whole DedSec thing, he was rusty, okay? Besides, he had some important business he’d been keeping on the back burner for far too long.
As some kind of thanks for the fixer work (and a little dash of flirting, perhaps?), Jordi secured him a way out of the UK with a boat ride and a plane back home whenever he needed it. Before he left, he entrusted Aiden and Jackson with keeping his safehouse and his robo-children tucked in safe and sound. He’d be back eventually… or quite quickly, depending on how things went when his flight touched ground. Speaking of which, he glanced down at the screen on the seat in front of him. It showed a satellite image of the world below and marked the plane’s flight path. A tiny little plane projected off the map and inched closer to its destination. They were descending closer to The Bay. Landing any minute.
He briefly considered the possibility of slipping on his mask and retreating from the real world for a while. But while Reggie Blechman is just some weird, semi-famous engineer, Wrench is public enemy number one, baby. He didn’t need to have that kind of attention right now. And besides, it was stowed away in the belly of the plane, anyway, and excusing himself to go find a way down there would make even more of a scene. He could put on Wrench without the mask, anyway; it just made the illusion more believable. Something set off the tightly wound coil in his stomach, constricting further. Fuck.
Wrench was totally, definitely not scared of going back home. Not even a little. Nope. What would he have been afraid of, anyway? Letting down his friends? Them still being mad at him? Pfft. Please. ‘Course not… ‘course not.
And, okay, it’s not like he told them when he had packed his bags and left, either. Couldn’t really break that type of news after the sort of fight they’d had. Not that it was any good excuse, but he had been riding on the back of a string of stupid decisions he’s made for quite some time.
They had started talking again only a few months ago. More like, Wrench had only finally reached back out to his friends once he’d gotten his final dose of revenge by beating Rempart to a pulp. After everything he did, that little bastard had the audacity to threaten his friends? Yeah… death would have been far too good for Tommy.
Though he had said he would give Marcus a call after he left the docks, it turned out that just getting up and hitting his best friend up again like it was nothing was more than a little intimidating. Even after Marcus had set up that whole fucking contract for him, he still couldn’t do it. Only after Jackson dished him some harsh— but admittedly well-deserved— criticism did he finally gather the nerves to send the fucking text.
Jackson… that kid was strange. Though Wrench tried his damndest to be as obnoxious as possible with the Pearces (because who else had the golden opportunity to annoy the infamous Fox whenever the heart wanted?), still Jackson checked up on him every once and a while, even stopping by his safehouse… for some reason. It’s not like Wrench didn’t appreciate the company, boy was he lonely, but why did Jackson care so much? Didn’t he have anything better to do?
But he finally took the initiative, took that selfie in front of Big Ben like he said he would and sent it off to Marcus with a simple, loaded hey man. wish you were here.
And just like that, as quick as setting off an avalanche, he was talking with his friends again. Like the year of silence had never even happened. Like he didn’t keep every single voicemail and listen to them on repeat. Played them over and over, late at night when the loneliness and the regret got to him he couldn't stop crying, when he wanted so badly to call him back and just hear something, anything from him...
All of it swept under the rug, like none of it had ever happened. Wrench liked that reality better. He liked pretending that one was real.
He knew he was due for an ass-kicking from Sitara. She promised it when he called her back for the first time, and any time they talked she reminded him of it. But it was totally fair. He deserved an ass kicking big time.
He wondered how Josh would react, if he would flinch if Wrench tried to scoop him into a big bear hug. He really hoped not, because he needed one from him very badly. And maybe some of those shrooms he had been growing. Yeah. Some of those for sure.
And… Marcus. Oh god. Marcus.
Though they could talk for hours on end, just like old times, their conversations usually remained light. Simple topics. Catching up on the easier stories to tell. Talking and cracking jokes with Marcus felt as natural as breathing or being in love, but every conversation felt like carefully treading over broken glass. After the divorce, when Marcus invited him over to catch up over beers, Wrench started a fight over something pointless and stupid. It left a huge crack down the middle of their relationship, and he worried that if he made any wrong move, the whole thing would shatter in pieces.
He wanted to explain everything to Marcus. He wanted spill out his heart to him. He really did. But no matter how hard he searched, he couldn’t find the right words to say. He knew he was a fucking idiot. He knew from the second he stormed off without a word to enact his revenge plan that he was being ridiculous. And there was nothing Wrench could do to explain himself. No excuse was worth ghosting your best friend for over a year. No stupid drunken bickering was worth this. Because it wasn’t.
But how could he explain how fucking sorry he was? What if they could never bridge the gap between them? How could he make things right again? What were they, even…?
How did Marcus feel about him, really? Was he prepared to find out? Did he want to?
Yes. Oh god yes. Yes he did. But also no. Not at all.
Wrench sighed and shifted around in his seat, feeling annoyed. At himself, mostly. His irritable wiggling garnered him another stare from the lady next to him. She was somewhere around his age, all business, no fun. They had both been hating this arrangement for hours now. He could only imagine what she’d think if he had the mask. Smirking at the thought, he eyed her apologetically before turning back to the window. Was Jordi some kind of cheapskate? Couldn’t even go for Business seating? Or was this some kind of final “fuck you?” Jerk.
As San Francisco came more and more into view on the plane’s creeping descent, Wrench’s head began to swim. This back and forth between excitement and terror was going to kill him. Truly. After wanting nothing more than to return back home, to see his family again after being alone for so long, even the slightest chance of everything going up in flames was terrifying. The nervous pit in his stomach did another flip just for the fun of it.
So caught up in his thoughts, Wrench barely registered when the plane landed without a hitch. But being on solid ground didn’t help him feel any more stable.
He hated flying in at night. Hardly exciting at all. The bay, jet black, ominously flashed the red lights of the runway. An unceremonious welcome back if he’d ever had one. The woman sitting next to him boarded the plane as soon as she could. Wrench chose to wait a little, collecting his thoughts as the rest of the passengers cleared out.
As he wandered through a mostly empty terminal, he noticed only a handful of layover passengers trying to get some sleep or people hustling out of the airport with better places to be. He had no idea what time it was— thanks, jet lag— but from what he could tell it was incredibly late at night or incredibly early in the morning, accounting for personal preference. He barely gave a shit.
Now that he thought about it, he was kind of fucked. He didn’t have a place to sleep for the night, let alone long term. And all his prized possessions were long gone, too, tossed in some landfill, probably. Zane saw to that quite quickly after their marriage fell apart. It wasn’t enough to just kick him out, he also had to throw a huge, spoiled temper tantrum over the state of his busted and beaten car and throw nearly all of his possessions out the window of their apartment. The emotional abuse, the heartbreak… whatever, Wrench could handle that, but busting in his Jimmy Siska lunchbox? What a fucking prick.
As he headed for an airport exit, preoccupied in readying a DriverSF ride for himself on his phone, he guessed who was most likely to be up this late.
Sitara, probably. But he wasn’t sure if he wanted an ass kicking right now.
Josh? No way in hell.
He knew that if he asked Marcus, he’d be up and out the door with barely a moment’s notice. But everything that came with dealing with Marcus was… a huge, nasty can of worms. He needed a moment before opening it. Maybe a few moments. Days, even.
Was Ray still around? Maybe he could see if—
An all too familiar voice, honey, husky and warm, stopped Wrench dead in his tracks.
“Reggie!"
His heart pounded hard, blood rushing in his ears. Snapping around towards the voice, his eyes widened at who it was. “Oh my god.”
“Yo, Wrench!!”
And then two other people, just as easily recognizable, called him over too. “Reggie! Over here! Reg!”
Adrenaline sent Wrench flying. “Ohhh my god!!”
He should have known they’d be waiting for him. No matter how much time had passed. No matter what stupid conflict got between them, they would always be there for one another. He crashed into the first person he met. Marcus. Of course it was Marcus. He flung his arms around his shoulders and gripped him tight. So tight, like if he faltered even slightly, he’d slip through his fingers like water. And the way Marcus held him felt like he was trying to prove that this was real. That he was really real.
Then Sitara joined in the hug, clinging tight onto them both, and Josh joined in directly after her. Now cocooned between his friends, Wrench savored their warmth, in being squeezed just a little too hard, making it just a little too hard to breathe. He had been waiting, aching for this moment for so long. Sometimes he wasn’t sure if he would make it to do this ever again. A sob hitched in his throat and threatened to pour over. He let it. His vision blurred with tears. He was pretty sure they were all crying, too. All the tension coiled up throughout every part of his body eased as something he hadn’t felt in a very long time washed over him. Safety.
He was home. Finally home.
After some time, somebody pulled out of the hug and the rest followed suit. But Marcus kept an arm looped around his shoulders, though, and the thought of it and his warmth made his skin feel like fire.
Wrench stared at them all in disbelief, and they stared back just as hard. They all looked so worn down, far older than he expected them to. But hell, he was no spring chicken either.
“Why are you guys here?!” he asked, immediately regretting starting with that, of all things. He rolled with it though. “And who told you I was coming home? Am I smelling some kind of mole situation here?”
“Psh, you think I just stopped keeping tabs on you?” Marcus answered, studying Wrench up and down. “Also, why the hell didn’t you tell me you were working for Jordi fucking Chin, the psycho who tried to kill me ten years ago!?”
Wrench’s eyes went wide. Things started making a lot more sense. “Oh my god. My Jordi is your Jordi!? Haha… wow. You were not kidding. He is, like, totally fucking insane.”
“I told you!” Marcus flashed him his award-winning smile and squeezed him again. “Welcome home, Reggie. We’ve missed you so much.”
“Thanks, man.” Now that Wrench could get a proper look at Marcus, what stuck out the most was just how tired he looked. The added lines around his face, bags under his eyes, his grown-out beard flecked with pieces of grey. He looked like he hadn’t been sleeping much of anything either. Guilt panged his chest, but he returned his smile all the same. “Missed you, too.”
Biggest understatement in his life.
“Uh, guys?” Sitara said, motioning to herself and Josh. “I really don't want to be the one to ruin your moment, but could the rest of us get a second, too?”
Marcus looked down bashfully as he pulled himself away. “Sorry.”
“You’re good, hun. Welcome home, Reggie.” She pulled him into another brief hug. As she pulled away, something shimmered in her eyes. She raised her fist and socked him in the arm. Hard.
“Owwww! What the fuck, Sitara!?” He clutched at the spot, delicately nursing it.
“Like I promised. That one was for Marcus, and this one is—”
“Whoa, whoa, please— stop.” He grabbed her fist before she could land another blow. “I just got home, can the reprimanding wait like ten minutes!?”
“Fine. Ten minutes. But after that I get to kick your ass so hard.” Despite her words, her lips drew up in a smirk as she gently patted him on the shoulder. “Glad you’re home in one piece, but… you look terrible. Have you slept at all?”
“Yeah, thanks, I know. And do you mean like recently or in general? Because the answer to both is, uh, no.”
“Aw, Reg, I didn't mean…” Her joy on her face fractured, if only a little. Josh eased the tension by tapping Wrench on the shoulder, a brief heads-up before he drew Wrench into another hug.
“Whoa, now this is a first,” Wrench chuckled, returning the gesture just as strongly. Josh hugs were truly the best. He didn’t give them out often, though, and Wrench had just gotten two in a row? Consider him lucky. “Missed you, too, man. Hope you didn’t cause too much chaos without me to keep you in check.”
“I don’t start chaos, but… I get what you mean,” Josh smiled quietly as he pulled out of the hug. He stared at Wrench’s face and blinked. “If you’re back to Wrench, where’s the mask?”
“Uhh… took it off for the flight. But it’s kind of nice to have it off sometimes? I mean, I can only be so much of a porcupine on a day to day basis.”
“That’s fair.” Josh nodded, paused, then asked, “Since you’re a part of London’s DedSec, does that mean you’re going to rejoin here?”
The question set off sparks in him. He looked to his friends for the answer first, but he knew their response all the same. “I mean… it’s probably been pretty boring without me all these years, huh?” he said.
Sitara grinned. “Once DedSec, always DedSec. Good to have you back.”
Wrench smiled at her, love shining bright and golden in his chest.
Then he felt the last wave of adrenaline leave his body, dipping back into exhaustion.
“Um. Any chance I can crash at one of your guys’ places? Because for all intents and purposes, I’m... uh. Homeless.”
“Why do you think we’re here picking your ass up?” Marcus asked, smirking. “Don’t worry, man, I got you.”
Wrench smiled at him wistfully. “You always do.”
*
Sitara and Josh left with the promise of meeting tomorrow, maybe down at the old Hackerspace. At the thought, Wrench couldn’t help but wonder if his bench was still there. How many years had it been since he “moved on” and yet they never took down the Wrench Bench? Sentimental assholes, all of them. They probably didn’t move a thing from his place the whole time he was gone.
Marcus led Wrench back to his car. He stopped at something expensive, shiny. Looked like it had no right to be taken out on the streets. Wrench let out an impressed whistle and Marcus chuckled.
“So I’ve got this really nice couch you can crash on, if you want,” Marcus said as he swung open the passenger door, pure gentleman he is. “And I’m talking very comfy. Or—”
Wrench slipped into the car with an ungrateful groan. “Man. I’m too old to be couch surfing again. Ohhh. This is weird being on this side of the car and not having a wheel here. Never thought I would say that.”
“— Or. I got a damn good bed, too.” Marcus chuckled, lingering in the door frame. “I know how you sleep, though, all sprawled out and shit. Might be a bit of a tight fit. Might bump knees.”
“I mean… I don’t mind if you mind?” Wrench paused for a moment, debating between laying it on thick or listening in the voice in his head begging for him not to fuck it up. He couldn’t resist. “Could bump more than just knees too.”
Marcus stared at him hard for a moment, then shook his head, laughing. He threw Wrench a look like he wasn't sure how to react— or how to gauge him— as he closed the passenger door. Yeah okay. Maybe that was a little too much.
Though Wrench had effectively thrown himself to the wolves far too early (what can he say? Marcus is a pure dreamboat. Completely irresistible. All logical thought goes poof around him, etc., etc.), it didn’t seem like Marcus was ready to up and leave him just yet. He may have burned one of his three chances, though. Oh well. At least it had been half-worth it.
Marcus hopped into the driver’s seat and started up the car. Before pulling out of the parking lot, he messed around with something on his phone. A slow, steady drum beat and heavy guitar greeted them through the car’s stereo.
“Whoa,” Wrench said, surprised. He hasn’t heard this song in a while, and it was definitely something he wouldn’t have expected to hear in one of Marcus’ playlists. Nodding in approval, he leaned in and dialed the knob higher. “Excellent choice, dude.”
A smirk crept over Marcus’ lips. “Ha, thanks. Josh found a bunch of your old CDs lyin’ around your old garage. Thought I’d give ‘em a shot… and can I just say? Some of the stuff you listen to is completely unlistenable, man. But these guys are great.”
There was a sting mixed around in Marcus’ words, something darker underneath all that sweet. Listening to his music?
“Aren’t they?” Wrench said, choosing to brush aside the pain. "I saw them… phew, fucking years ago. Blew out my ear drums for weeks afterwards and I don’t think I ever recovered since then.”
“Dude…” Marcus wore the concern on his face far too easily. “I sometimes wonder how you still have hearing between your music and your explosives.”
“Me too, honestly. Eh, I’m sure I could just, like, buy a pair of AI-enhanced eardrums on the black market if I wanted to. I appreciate the concern though.”
“‘Course, Reggie, er... Wrench? Still doing the Wrench thing full-time?”
“Hmm... not sure. Maybe a 60/40 thing. Reggie by day, Wrench by night. Like Batman, except I’m way more on-the-nose about my leather kink.”
“Ehh, I think Bruce Wayne is pretty on-the-nose about his, but… yeah. You got him beat for sure.”
Marcus laughed and Wrench followed along. Even if everything else felt off-kilter, at least they still had this— cracking jokes, making each other laugh. Like old times.
Wrench sighed as he eased back into Marcus’ question. “I dunno. After all the shit with Rempart and going back to Wrench, I realized that being Reggie all the time is sooo boring, you know? But to you I’m still totally Reggie. Um… if you want?”
“Hmm...” Marcus thought about it for a moment as he took a turn at an exit Wrench wasn’t familiar with. “I’ll take you however I can get you.”
He hoped Marcus was being a good diligent driver and not paying him much attention, because he could feel himself turn bright red. He had to switch the subject immediately, otherwise he was going to explode.
“Uh. Where are we going… exactly?” he asked. Looking out the window, seeing the water and the city shimmering in the distance. “I know it’s been a while since I’ve been home, but I have no fucking clue where you’re taking me.”
Even in the dark he could see Marcus’ smile shine. “You’ll find out.”
Okay. Well. Fair enough. Wrench figured it’s his turn to ask a few questions then.
“Sooo… any news on that trailer?”
“Aw, Reg, they loved it. Even got praise from the big man himself. Wanna know the best part? We definitely landed writing props.”
“Nooo way! Oh my god… our names in lights on the silver screen… our finishing touches on a Devon von Devon movie…” He sighed dreamily. “It’s like all my wildest fantasies coming true.”
“Just you wait until you see it,” Marcus beamed, eyes widening suddenly. “Oh shit! I can’t believe I forgot to tell you this. I got around to watching that Magical Goat Show you won’t stop talking about.”
“You mean Magical Goat Battle Princess?!” Wrench gasped, practically leaning over the center console to get a better look at Marcus. If he had the mask on, it would be flashing heart eyes. Definitely. “You’re saying my best friend in the whole world watched my favorite show and didn’t immediately text me all of his thoughts and opinions?! You hurt me.” (Like he was one to talk.) “So whatcha think? I wanna know all of your opinions. Tell me everything. Every. Thing. Okay? It’s great, right?”
Marcus shrugged, laughing at Wrench. “Yeah, it’s pretty good. I mean… there’s way better shows out there but it ain’t half-bad. But it’s very you, that’s for sure... heh.” He cracked a laugh. “I’m remembering when you used to roast me for liking Naruto, now look at you, weebin’ it up all over the place.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know. I was misguided in my ways. And for that, I deeply apologize.”
“That all you’re sorry for?”
Marcus tore his eyes from the road, gaze piercing into Wrench. The playful tone in his voice didn’t align with the tiredness around his eyes.
“I…” Wrench opened his mouth to speak, but nothing but useless sounds came out. He tried again. Still nothing. The weight of The Thing they were dancing around struck him hard like a knife to the chest.
Marcus’ face fell, turning back to the road. “... Sorry. Not trying to grill you. I know you’ve been through a lot, and you’re exhausted. It’s just… it’s been hard.”
“Yeah.” Wrench went quiet for a moment. “I know. I’m… I’m sorry.”
“Me too.”
A long pause. Uncomfortable silence.
Marcus tried breaking through it first. “Hey. We got all the time in the world to talk now, right? Let’s just take it slow. You haven’t seen San Fran at night in a while. Enjoy it.”
Wrench’s heart sank. Marcus was way too good for him. Even if Marcus had feelings for him too, he would never deserve someone like him. “Yeah… I will. Thanks, Marcus.”
Despite the self-deprecating thoughts swimming through his head, Wrench decided to enjoy the rest of the ride. He rested his head against the cool window, taking in the view of the city as it shined. A fog rolled on the surface of water, swallowing the Bay whole in a glowing haze. The quiet was comfortable, strange, and calm, the heavy music dulling the silence.
Eventually his eyelids grow heavy. He tried to fight it, but jetlag and general exhaustion caught up to him. The onset of sleep was a slow, gentle crawl.
Every so often, he felt Marcus’ hand brush against the side of his. He first thought it was an accident as Marcus went to switch the car’s gears, but the feeling sets his skin on fire regardless. Over time, he started to think it’s not much of an accident. Eventually Marcus settled his hand over the back of Wrench’s, squeezing softly. He doesn’t pull away.
There’s no explanation needed. Nothing else needed to be said. The way Marcus rubbed soft circles against the faded ink on his hand said enough:
I’m glad you’re home.