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Time slipped again, a fat little penguin weeble-wobbling its way down the steep incline of the hour hand. They’d given him more painkillers; the cut to his chest had nearly succeeded in slicing clean through his sternum and each deep, slow, steady breath in both prevented pneumonia and wailed at his brain like a colicky newborn. Neon warning signs flashed, urging him to avoid that. Don’t do that. Sterner voices boomed down through loud speakers, reminding him that he needed to or his lungs would start languishing in their own juices and murder him.
Ten weeks. The. Ha, the discharge paperwork wanted him to follow up in ten weeks with a primary care. Or pain management. Physical therapy, since with the shoulder injury the likelihood of complications was high.
Great.
Right when his ribs were finally starting to feel better, too. The seat belt across his chest was gunning for employee of the month, providing a constant reminder of. He’d launched himself at. His brain stuttered, drove past that exit and had to take the next to double back to that scenic overlook. He’d attacked the Catastrofiend. Without a plan. Without any forethought or consideration. And not in the way that he had grown accustomed to his brain placing his body in danger. No flippant regard for his own wellbeing to accomplish a task or reach an end goal. No whine from his survival instincts being silenced by a harsh hand. His people had been in danger.
And as soon as that thought had settled into his mind, everything else in his brain had stopped working.
Part of him wanted to stomp his feet like a snot nosed brat being told he had to do his homework.
“I don’t want to go back to physical therapy,” he said. Thought he said? Something dribbled out of his mouth that may have been his words or vanilla tapioca. With a much greater amount of concentration than he would ever admit to, Richard brought his left hand up to his face to smear at his chin. Just in case.
It came back slimy. Ugh.
And when the hell did they get through Fresno?
“About twenty minutes ago,” oh. Oh, so that one was out loud. Cheater. Up ahead in the driver’s seat, Ricardo adjusted the rearview mirror to take a look back over at Richard. It gave Richard a quick glance at himself that he immediately tried to scrub from his eyes. Drawn out and haggard. He needed a shave.
He needed a beer.
He needed actual sleep but every nerve in his chest was banging pots and pans together to keep him awake—the faint temptation to try to reach out to Mitzi was examined and then discarded like a carton of expired milk. Soured. Too thick and sluggish even if he could span the distance and get to her. And he’d promised Daniel.
Daniel, up front in the passenger’s seat, head against the window and fully out, snoring gently. Reflected in the window as outside the city scape zipped by. It was evening, but Richard couldn’t even begin to try and guess what time it actually was. Late enough for there to only be a few other cars on the highway.
Have I been talking this entire time? Nope. That exam was handed back with a ‘see me after class’ written in large red lettering over the top. What came out was “I’ve…I been talkin’?”
“More or less,”
Ah, beans. Not as worried about what he’d been saying, more concerned with the fact that he hadn’t noticed at all. There were precious few secrets that he held anymore from either of the car’s other occupants. Willingly or otherwise. “Did,” okay. Pace yourself, take your time. Feet on the starting blocks. Ready. Set. “Did I…saya..sayanythin…,” he trailed off into a growl, turning that anger into a sharp stick to poke at his own mouth. “Say. Anything. Interesting?” tongue only managing to knock down every single hurdle on his way to the finish line. It was amazing his teeth were still in his mouth after so much falling on his face.
“You mentioned penguins for a while,” Richard could hear the smile in Ricardo’s voice. “Kept calling them ‘smug little blubber balls’,”
He highly doubted he actually articulated anything like that. There were enough ‘b’ sounds to fill a hive. “Well, they’re,” he heard himself saying, slowly getting more control back over his mouth. That was promising at least. “they’re…are,” firmly. Enough to get a snort out of Ricardo. A small pause and into it crept reality. Responsibility. “Have. Have uh. You spoken. To Chen?” And oh, wasn’t that a little stiffness in the back of the neck?
“Things are,” Richard could see the expression shift in the rearview mirror, just the way his forehead creased—that line between his brows. He sighed. “Tense. Mayor Alvarez and Carmichael had a meeting apparently. Several.” The weight to his words tipped a carefully arranged end table over in Richard’s head, breaking all of the delicate plates. Leaving razors of chipped ceramic waiting for their chance to slice in deep.
“Fuck,” out before he could stop it, the profanity all the sharper on his tongue for its rarity. He couldn’t taste blood yet, but he could smell it in the water. Shaking his head hard. Trying to knock down the spiders before they could form cobwebs between his thoughts. The pain meds were settling back down now, which he assumed was why he could think clearly at all. His mouth was starting to catch up. So was the nausea and the throbbing from his shoulder that was rapidly going to become a central issue.
His brain snagged again on the actual topic, thank goodness. This wasn’t going to be good. But Ricardo wasn’t volunteering anything else, eyes too narrow on the road ahead of them. “Do they…Have. Have they made any accusations?” feeling his tongue worming its way out of the snare laid by medications.
Shifting, Ricardo cracking his back and. A slender knife picked at the scabs around Richard’s stitches. Worming its way into his chest cavity. Before Ricardo could answer, Richard saw his own hand reaching out from the backseat. Left hand. Uninjured hand, laying down on Ricardo’s shoulder from behind. Wanting to.
He didn’t even know. But it was done and he could feel Ricardo reaching up to place his hand over it for a. There went that damn roly poly penguin, taking several minutes with it as it slipped away, the only thing stopping it from tumbling off the edge was Ricardo answering.
“None yet, but they’re watching us very closely now. Carmichael wanted the Guardians to be the ones to look into Regina’s kidnapping, but Alvarez told them to fuck off,” grating at the back of his throat. No scent of ozone because there was barely anything left in the tanks. Barely enough to keep him going. Now wasn’t the time for this conversation.
A more studious hand took down the notes about Alvarez and let the rest of Richard’s mind take a scalpel to what it was seeing in front of him.
Ricardo was going to need maintenance. Needed batteries reset and recharged and. Not talking to Richard about that. Still trying to keep invulnerable face, that he could handle this. He could shoulder it. Richard was left to hope that he was talking to Chen about it. Hopefully. Hadn’t he said he was seeing a therapist? Was that true? Still true? The very unwelcome insight that this was how Ricardo had been feeling for months, knowing that Richard was telling Daniel and Dr. Finch all the things he didn’t trust him with, laughed snidely in his ear. Ah, beans.
The chuckle left bitter slime on his tongue. “Hey,” getting a raised eyebrow in the rear view mirror “We’re not in a hospital, but do you think you can handle me being a diva for a little longer?”
A sigh that slouched the shoulder he was touching. The globe descending on Atlas. “Yeah?” vague annoyance. So much exhaustion that it was harder to hide the burden. No, not the burden but. The burn out, so many hits and they just kept coming.
“I’m gonna guess you’ve been to more weddings than I have,” he led with, which was enough to have the shoulder sink as though a switch was flipped and gravity slipped off. His head dipped as the shoulder shook again with a supressed laugh, shaking his head. Richard squeezed before taking his hand back, biting back hard against the shock of pain in his chest that threatened to steal the air from his lungs. Again. “One is more than zero,” wheezed out slightly.
“One is more than zero,” Ricardo agreed, looking back up at the road, flexing his hand and making the knuckles crackle gently before he placed them back on the steering wheel. Not with electricity, but with the much more. Much less. That thought of actually getting older. All of them were.
What was it that Danny had said? It felt like years ago. Marriage was something that happened to old people. If it happened at all. And Richard had bet skin on the idea that it would never happen for someone like him and Daniel had bet on red and won. Found out that day in the kitchen that it was something Richard wanted and would never let himself have and had squirreled it away until he needed. A secret weapon. A little acorn of truth.
It had worked. Worked for what he had needed it to work for. Which. Ouch, that was a painful pin beneath his fingernails. Did Daniel actually want to….no. Yes? Yes. He’d been. For months now. Teasing about it. Letting little thoughts slip in here and there. That whole business with last names. Very cautious fingers took that thought and slipped it into the garbage, worried about getting any of its rot on the kitchen counters. Daniel wanted this. It would. It would be alright.
“Richard? You okay back there, you’ve been quiet for a few minutes,” ah, beans, there went the penguin again.
“Yeah, just uh. Lost my train of thought for a second, there,” shaking his head again, only mildly enjoying the strange dizziness that followed. “Sorry. You. Right,” getting back into the swing of things, mentally limbering up. “I’ve never been to one—do. I don’t even know where to start,”
“Well, you’re gonna have to get a suit,” voice teasing. Richard found himself staring blankly at the back of Ricardo’s headrest before he realized his tongue was finally moving.
“I’m gonna have to get a suit,” mild awe mixing with the realization, hollow with the repetition. “Do. Do gay weddings have the uh,” he gestured uselessly with his left hand, the right was still firmly forbidden from gesturing. Even more uselessly since he was firmly behind Ricardo’s field of view. His brain was stubborn though, keeping the word locked hard and away behind a thick wall of fog. Either from the medication or his own exhaustion. “You know, the flowers? Does one of us need to carry the flowers?”
Ricardo wheezed, delight grating on each and every one of Richard’s nerves. “You mean the bouquet?”
Make him the flower girl, urged a part of his mind. Have him walk Edith down the aisle instead of. Not some cute unnamed, obviously unnamed who did Richard even know to invite to a wedding, bridesmaid. Walking with Chen, wouldn’t he? Would he? How did.
Could Edith and Spoon be persuaded to walk down the aisle together?
That saccharine image was laminated and pinned to a mental fridge for a better time to ask.
Richard settled for groaning and rubbed his face with his good hand. “Yeah. That. I. That’s for the bride, right?” watched the shoulders ahead of him shrug.
“It’s your wedding, Richie,” thinly veiled happiness dripping from every smug syllable. “Do you want to carry a bouquet?” teasing but notes of genuine curiosity were threaded into the tapestry.
“I,” huh. “No,” which wasn’t very firm sounding, but the idea wasn’t that offensive. Just odd. What flowers would he even.
“Meirda, is that. No,” scandal in his voice, eyes shooting back up to the rear view to look at him. “No, you did not get him flowers to apologize for being Mad Dog,” of course. Of course he had been there for that delivery, Richard hadn’t been thinking clearly and had sent the damn things straight to their headquarters and ah, all of the Rangers had likely seen it. Good to know he’d subjected Daniel to some light workplace humiliation as well.
“Alright, alright. Look, I know it was stupid,” the grumble almost overtaking everything else in his voice. It was matched in pace by the incredulous snort.
“Stupid. Stupid? Richard you are banned from ever calling me an idiot again, you got him flowers to apologize for mauling him?” there was heat there, a little anger, but mostly Ricardo was laughing at him. Thank god. Grinning and shaking his head in slightly mortified respect. “The absolute cojones of that,”
“It wasn’t bravery, it was desperation,” he heard himself protesting. Muttering. Ah, beans he was blushing wasn’t he? His body had gotten around to processing all those donations and was immediately putting them to work against him. Traitor.
“Maybe,” still snickering “but it worked. He took you back. Those sunflowers were what sealed the deal,” probably joking. Absolutely joking but it hit just wrong enough.
“It wasn’t to get him to take me back,” snapping that one out loud, feeling something clench viciously in his chest. Not his injury. Some dark unwanted thing dipping long claws back into his blood stream, turning it thick and cold. It hadn’t been to curry favor or get back into his good graces. It had been to get his attention. Daniel had been dragging his feet and Richard had felt how sincerely Danny had wanted to arrest him. To do the right thing. And Richard had wanted nothing more than for him to get it over with. His felt his voice change gears and couldn’t stop it. “I still don’t know what he sees in me,”
There was a small, faint noise. A stuttered, uneasy inhale.
“Well, usually you’re quiet,” muffled from the passenger’s seat, Daniel yawning and then wincing as his wound pulled strangely. Straightening up in his seat and blinking sleep from his eyes, slightly unfocused in the dim interior of the rental.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you,” the apology was met with a more blank shrug, Daniel’s thoughts stretching their wings and shaking off the dew. Not quite taking to the air just yet—the sleep hadn’t been restful.
“It’s fine,” rolling his neck until they all heard a satisfying ‘pop’. “What were the two of you talking about?” glancing into the back seat and matching Richard’s gaze. Tired but waking up, his thoughts lightly brushed into Richard’s mind. Light and casual things. Something darker lurking behind them, but Daniel was doing his best to lock it back up. Hadn’t been them being too loud. Richard had been so preoccupied with. With. Daniel had been having a nightmare. About him. Again.
He felt something hideous lurch in his stomach and fill his head and it must have been showing on his face because Daniel’s suddenly took on a cast of bleary concern before Ricardo interrupted.
“Planning your wedding,” and just like that, any thought of Mad Dog or the nightmare starring him was jettisoned out onto the highway with Daniel’s thoughts scattering. Soaring. His face turned scarlet, eyes darting back between Ricardo and Richard.
“Yeah?” settling on him and reaching into the backseat. An odd angle but his hand found Richard’s knee. Without thinking, Richard’s good hand found Daniel’s. Really, the worst angle. And then something shifted and oh god. “Okay. So…I was thinking something outdoors?” starting slowly, edging forward, sleepiness falling off of him like snow off a warm roof. “Or sort of a half in, half out thing. At night. Or maybe sunset? And,” and, oh god there was more.
There was more?
A few gold coins dropped into the piggy bank of Richard’s mind to be saved for a rainy day. Daniel had been thinking. Daniel had opinions and thoughts and was laying them all out for him and. Daniel wanted this. He’d woken up from a nightmare about Mad Dog and had slid feet-first into a conversation about marrying Richard. That. Jesus, that couldn’t be healthy.
Richard didn’t have the wherewithal to try and look in, beyond the rapid buffeting whirlwinds of. He. An errant thought smacked a full wing into Richard’s face. What the hell was chiaroscuro? There was an eagerness there. The idea to propose had been knee jerk, but any planning had been back-burnered, with the exception of idle day dreams. He was making up these thing as he went along, throwing paint at a canvas and seeing what stuck. Sunset maybe? Or even at night. The subject was ‘wedding’ and the rest of his brain was taking the assignment and running with it. Holding up scraps of fabric for texture and comparing oils versus acrylics while somewhere deeper in his brain, there was a shape already smudging with charcoal. Warm chaos.
Color leaking in, well beyond the boundaries of Richard’s mind. Light slipping down deep and illuminating the exterior of frozen buildings. Painted years ago. Nearly a decade ago. Faded and dated and now there were hints of vibrancy in spots, standing out starkly against the snow drives and ice. Reds and yellows and the color of his eyes.
Someone, probably Richard, most likely Richard it sounded like his voice, even if he was too distracted by what was going on in his head, said “I love you.”
Somewhere in the car, Ricardo was still snickering but it didn’t take away from Daniel’s grin and the quick return, “I love you too, Richie,”