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No one questioned why Bob is never seen with a drink in his hand. It just went unnoticed as he smacked on his peanuts in a solo cup. It just took the scariest moment many of them have ever experienced (on the ground) for the story to come to light.
-
The thing about Bacardi, is that it can be disguised so easily by the taste of Coke. When Payback returns with glasses of fizzing brown liquid, one ends up in Bob’s hand. The night is still young, a round of soft drink to kick them off isn’t unheard of and when Bob sniffs it, nothing but the cola scent is there.
He’s a few, dehydrated mouthfuls in when the taste finally prevails through the sweetness. Beside the pool table, Bob freezes. The horribly familiar feeling around his throat, the tightness and shortness of breath. He puts the glass down like it’s a bomb.
“Payback,” he calls weakly. The strange tone catches the small group off guard. “What’s mixed with the coke?”
“Just some Bacardi,” he responds warily.
Bob swallows harshly and turns on his heel. “Shit, fuck, okay,” he mumurs under his breath.
All he can think about is getting to his car and reaching for the epi-pen in his glove box. There are voices behind him but they’re melting into one. As he swings the door of the Hard Deck open, Bob finds himself bookended between Maverick walking in and Payback following Bob out.
Maverick looks at the unsteady way Bob holds himself. “Drunk already?”
Bob doesn’t say anything, he just keeps stumbling forward. His car is just across the lot, it feels miles away.
“Bob!” Payback shouts, jogging to catch up with him. “What’s going on?”
“I’m allergic,” he gasps. “To alcohol.”
“Fuck!” Payback shouts and looks over his shoulder with a stricken look on his face at Maverick who still stands at the front entrance. “Maverick!” His voice breaks with panic.
Their Captain is beside them within a second. “Bob, do you have an epi-pen?”
Too short of breath to speak, Bob nods. He digs in his pockets with red hands. The rash is breaking out on his neck and hands. “Glovebox.”
“I’ll be back, Payback, call an ambulance. Lie him down,” Maverick barks.
“Yes, Sir!”
The world spins and it feels like he’s experiencing the worst bout of vertigo Bob’s ever had. Maverick’s gone but now he’s back, did it take long or did Bob only just blink? The feeling of the needle driving into his thigh shock. The sting fades and a deep ache spreads through his quad. It’s not unfamiliar, but it has been a while.
Despite the chill, a sweat breaks out across his chest and neck. Logically he knows that the feeling of suffocation will begin to alleviate but a sense of anxiety begins to pump through his body and it just feels harder.
“Bobby,” Hangman’s voice drifts through the fog. His already wide and open eyes dart across the sky above him trying to lock onto Hangman’s face. “You can breathe, you just gotta keep doing it. The ambulance is on its way and the fossil gave you your epi-pen. You’re gonna be okay.”
“Jake,” he gasps. “Talk…please.” The words are pleading and breathless.
“Yeah, okay. Speaking of fossils, remember when I tried to show everyone how to bury one, back on our first hop together? And Maverick flew vertically and I lost him in the sun? Pretty dumb move of me. You had a good come back though, see you in the afterlife. ”
Bob’s eyes jump open with unfocused anxiety. “Wait, ‘m dying?”
“Shit, no Floyd. You’re good, you’re okay. I’m not leaving, I promis.e”
The ambulance finally shows up and in a matter of minutes Bob is taken away with Hangman and Maverick following. It takes just an hour for the nurses to let the anxiously waiting pair through.
“You never told me you were allergic,” is Hangman’s first words. Bob, pale and exhausted on the bed can only look with sad eyes. His brief flash of anger is quelled by Maverick’s steady hand on his shoulder.
“Take a walk, you’ve seen him. Shake off the nerves and come back.”
Surprisingly, Hangman takes the order.
By the time Maverick has situated himself at Bob’s bedside the Lieutenant looks glassy eyed as he rubs the bridge of his nose tiredly.
“People just don’t understand it. So I don’t say anything.”
“No one blames you-”
“I drank a random drink at a bar. It was stupid.”
“It was early, Bob. It’s not hard to believe that someone would buy some soft drink before getting down to the serious drinking,” Maverick tries to reassure but Bob is hellbent on his self-criticism. Possibly made worse by Hangman’s initial outburst.
The aforementioned Hangman is back almost immediately, barely following the order to shake off his nerves. He stands over Maverick and the Captain rolls his eyes. With a smile, he stands and squeezes Bob’s shoulder before leaving the room.
“I’m sorry,” Hangman says almost immediately.
“Don’t. I was stupid to take the drink.”
“But you’ve never drunk before!” Hangman protests. “Payback shouldn’t have just put a drink in your hands that has alcohol in it without saying anything.”
He sighs, slumping back into the chair. Bob tries to reach out with a shaky hand. The rash is still there but it’s not as red. Hangman takes it, rubbing his thumb over Bob’s knuckles.
“I’m okay, that’s the important thing.”
But Hangman won't let it go. “But why didn’t you tell me! We’re meant to be-” he lowers his voice. “We’re meant to be partners, Bob.”
From his place on the bed, Bob shrugs and returns the gesture of rubbing his thumb against the back of Hangman’s hand. “I didn’t mean to. I’m just used to not saying anything because people don’t get it. The last guy I was a back seater for…he didn’t believe me.”
The implication in Bob’s words makes Hangman’s heart fall and blood boil simultaneously. “Did you report it?” His voice wavers.
“No point. Technically did nothing wrong,” Bob shrugs. And Hangman hates that he’s so… used to it. Used to people walking over him.
“Bobby…” For once he’s struggling for words. He meets Bob’s gaze fiercely. “I’m never letting that happen again. I’m never going to let you get hurt. Okay?”
Bob nods his head once, adoringly, tiredly. “Okay."