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The first thing Sanford registered was the cold spot on the bed beside him.
He sat up, barely able to see under the moonlight, and blearily looked around the room. His boyfriend wasn’t passed out beside him like he should be at — he glanced at the clock on the nightstand — two in the morning. Sanford considered the idea of him being in the bathroom, but quickly discarded the thought, seeing that the hall outside of their room was as dark as the room itself.
Resolving to figure out where his boyfriend had scurried off to, Sanford slowly got out of bed, trying his best to blink the sleep from his eyes. Regardless of what he told himself, Sanford was a little bit worried. Yeah, Deimos wasn’t exactly the heaviest sleeper, and he did tend to disappear when he needed time to himself, but at two in the fucking morning?
Sanford groaned, more confused than he was worried. Maybe he just woke Dei up with his snoring? Probably, he thought, casting the worry aside. Deimos couldn’t’ve gone far, after all — an old abandoned compound in the middle of nowhere didn’t leave much to wander off to.
Slowly but surely, Sanford made his way out of his shared room (careful to avoid the creaky floorboards that seemed to plague the house) and out into the hall. The interior of the building was fairly simple: A large room at the front, and a corridor going to the back of the house, with doorways to smaller rooms scattered about. Not the most exciting layout, but at least it made it easy to search for the wandering technician — or maybe he was sleepwalking?
Sanford ruminated on that thought as he walked carefully down the hall, his ears straining to pick up any signs of motion. Dei had never mentioned sleepwalking, and he hadn’t seen it happen in the time they’d roomed together in the compound, but he couldn’t cross it off the list completely. After all, it wouldn’t be the strangest thing he’d seen from his boyfriend.
As he walked into the kitchen at the front of the house, reminiscing on all the oddities he’d seen out of the man, he faintly heard a bout of coughing outside. He froze, first out of instinct, then out of a conscious desire to not disturb the smoker. Because he’s smoking. Of course he’s fucking smoking. He vanishes at two in the goddamn morning to go puff on some cancer sticks and nearly scares him half to death and—
Another cough snapped Sanford out of his internal monologue. He sighed, as his momentary irritation morphed into concern. Yeah, Deimos practically smoked a pack a day, but Sanford also knew that the pace at which he went through the things went through the roof when he was stressed. To be awake before the crack of dawn? There was a problem, and Sanford mentally kicked himself for not realizing it sooner.
He creeped towards the door, trying his best to keep silent. He stopped right by the door, and listened to the sounds outside. He heard his boyfriend’s raspy breath, the inhaling of chemicals and the blowing out of smoke. Beyond that, nothing. None of the anxious fiddling with his hands that Deimos was so fond of, no tapping away at the tablet he always kept with him, just… nothing. Sanford steeled himself, and opened the door.
Miraculously, in a house filled to the brim with creaks and groans and weird, unidentifiable sounds, the door stayed silent, allowing Sanford a good look at his boyfriend for the first time that morning.
Deimos was facing away from the door, sitting on the steps of the building’s front porch. One hand held a cigarette, with faint wisps of smoke barely visible under the dim glow of the Nevadean sky. His other hand was sitting beside him on the wood of the porch, his usually constant movement uncharacteristically stilled. If it was anyone else, the sight would be practically serene.
But Sanford knew Deimos like the back of his hand. He noticed all the little oddities — everything that conflicted with what he knew about the man — and he saw a very troubling sight. Determined to help his boyfriend with whatever he was going through, Sanford pushed the door open wide enough to allow him through—
—And the creak of the door shot through the night air like a bullet.
Deimos jolted, as though he was woken from a trance, head whipping around towards the source of the noise. He spotted Sanford standing in the doorway, and he sighed with relief.
“Christ, Sanford. Maybe show up a little quieter next time.”
Sanford chuckled quietly and walked through the doorway, taking a seat next to his partner.
“I tried. You know this damn house, can’t shut up for five minutes.”
Deimos laughed softly for a moment, before the laugh gave way to another bout of coughing. Sanford leaned towards him out of concern, but his free hand came up to wave him away.
“It’s fine, San. ‘M fine.”
The second statement was a little too forceful to be a lighthearted statement, and Sanford turned to inspect his boyfriend’s face, a worried look on his own. Deimos looked… exhausted, was the best way to put it. His eyes seemed slightly distant, and the almost perpetual smirk had been exchanged for a small frown.
“Are you?”
Deimos paused, like he was thinking about the answer himself. “I… I dunno, honestly. I’m just…”
He stopped, as if unable to find the words. Sanford put a hand on his shoulder (without resistance this time) and tried to put on the most reassuring look he could. “If you don’t want to talk about it, we don’t have to. I just want to help you, if you’ll let me.”
Deimos nodded at the words. “I want to tell you, it’s just… I don’t…” He trailed off again, frustrated. Sanford opened his mouth again, readying more words of affirmation, when—
“I’m scared, alright!”
Sanford was stunned at the force with which his boyfriend had blurted that statement, and was about to say something to that effect when Deimos kept going.
“I’m scared that I might die, and you’ll be all alone! I’m scared that you might die, and I’ll be all alone! I…” His voice lost its force, and the tension seemed to leave his body, as he glanced down towards his feet. “I’m fuckin’ terrified, San,” he finished quietly.
Oh. That… explained things.
Sanford thought for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to approach the situation. Eventually, he settled on honesty.
“Me too.”
Deimos’s head swiveled, a look of guilt on his face. “Really? Shit, I should’ve noticed, I coulda—”
“I should be the one saying that to you,” Sanford interrupted. “I’d say I’ve been dealing with it well enough. At least, I’m not the one smoking a pack at two o’clock.”
“I only had the one,” Deimos muttered, and Sanford glanced skeptically at the discarded butts on the ground. “Okay, maybe it was slightly more than one.”
Sanford snorted, before returning to a serious look. “Dei, how long has this been going on?”
Deimos shrugged. “Maybe a couple days.”
He sighed. This wasn’t the first time Deimos had kept something like this a secret, and it was never fun for anyone involved. “Next time you’re feeling down, I need you to tell me, alright? I don’t like seeing you down like this.”
Deimos nodded. “I know, it’s just… I didn’t want to worry you, ya know? Seemed like you had enough on your plate.”
“Deimos, it’s never a burden to help you with things like this. I love you, and I want to help you.”
Deimos chuckled, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye. “Ah jeez, you’re makin’ me tear up here.”
Sanford shook his head at his boyfriend’s antics. He was glad Deimos was feeling better, but he would prefer it if the man took the conversation somewhat seriously. “Deimos…”
“Yeah, I know, I know. I’ll tell you next time, promise.”
That was good enough for Sanford, and he allowed the tension to leave him as well, slumping down as comfortably as he could on the hard wood beneath him. “Do you need anything else?”
Deimos shook his head. “Nah, just… needed to get that out. Thanks, San.”
“Anytime. You ready to head back inside?”
“Actually…” He hesitated, as if embarrassed. “Can we stay out here tonight? It’s nice, sitting with you like this.”
Sanford smiled, amused at his boyfriend’s nervousness. “I don’t mind. It’s a nice night, anyway.”
Without bothering to respond, Deimos leaned into his boyfriend’s chest, eyes already closed. The sight warmed Sanford’s heart.
“…Love ya, San,” came his quiet voice.
Sanford sighed, happily this time. “Love you too, Dei.”
Sanford allowed his eyes to close as well. It was two in the morning after all, and they had a long day ahead tomorrow.
Hank sighed as they walked out of the shack that Doc had appropriated as his planning-slash-surgery area. It was a routine mission, really — break into an Agency outpost, kill everyone inside, steal whatever shit they had on their computers, get out. Easy enough. The only problem was that Doc insisted that they bring the dynamic duo along.
Hank didn’t really see what Deimos or Sanford would add to the mission. The map of the outpost showed that it was all close-quarters, not exactly the technician’s style. And the computer job was so easy that Hank’s technologically-illiterate ass could do it. And the fact that they were accessing the computers at all meant that Sanford’s specialty in demolition wouldn’t be useful.
All in all, a mission Hank was perfectly capable of doing alone. But ever since the two had regrouped with them and Doc, the man had insisted that they worked as a team of three on every. Damn. Mission. Hank was starting to miss the glory days of rampaging alone through a horde of agents.
Hank paused by the front of the house. The two were sitting on the porch, leaning into each other, completely unconscious despite the nearly-blinding sunlight. Deimos in particular was practically curled up into a ball, with Sanford’s arms wrapped around him.
Hank stared for a moment, then shrugged, turning back towards Doc’s shack. It wasn’t their job to wake the two. Besides, it wasn’t like they were gonna pass up a chance to rack up their killstreak further.
They smiled to themself beneath their mask. Just like old times.