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Riggs isn’t happy, which is about what Javi expected.
That’s fine and all, considering that Javi knew what would happen when he dumped Scott on the side of the road before taking off. Even if he’d acted on pure impulse at the time, without really thinking about what would happen afterwards, well… Javi was good at that, anyway. There are a lot of mistakes he’s made in his life out of compulsion rather than thinking things through before he actually does something, and he’s learned to roll with it.
Still, it’s kind of awkward standing there while Riggs hands him a spectacular beatdown and then all but punts him out of the hotel. It’s with the promise to make sure Javi never gets funding again, and maybe even a few months ago that would’ve cut him to the core. When all’s said and done, though, Javi just rolls his eyes, snags a complimentary muffin off the table by the cafe, and stuffs half of it into his mouth as he heads for the exit.
It’s what he’d expected. It really is. He knew the moment he gunned it towards El Reno that this was going to effectively be the end of his involvement in StormPAR, if not its existence completely. Javi has no doubt that it could go on without him, even if it stings to think about. He'd put blood, sweat, and tears into that company, but it was worth it in the end.
It’s a blueberry muffin, which is cool. He shoulders one of the front doors to the hotel open and starts making his way to his rental.
And then he stops in his tracks, muffin crumbs tumbling down onto his collar.
Scott’s expression is very carefully blank when they make eye contact, and then he goes right back to what he was doing. He’s holding a tablet against one arm and tapping away at it with the other hand, looking up only once to squint out towards the horizon before charting something else onto the screen. He’s cleaned up again, and when the wind blows Javi’s way, he can tell that Scott smells like cologne and aftershave. His sunglasses are pushed up onto his hairline and his hat is clipped to his belt, and he looks the picture of bureaucratic perfection.
The last time Javi saw him, he was drenched in mud and fuming.
Before that, Javi had seen that hair all mussed up, and Scott had smelled like sweat and silicone and booze. He’d been naked, the long planes of his body curled up under the covers and a hand rested on Javi’s stomach, snoring softly into the pillow. He’d been the picture of quiet contentment instead.
Javi swallows the lump of muffin and figures, eh. Might as well.
“Don’t,” Scott warns the second that Javi gets close enough, so maybe might as well isn’t going to go at all the way Javi wants it to. “Don’t speak. Don’t apologize. Don’t even look at me.”
“I’m already looking at you,” Javi says, trying to keep his voice even.
“Then look somewhere else,” Scott snaps, and starts to stalk away with his spine as straight as iron. “Go away, Javi.”
Javi immediately starts following after him, because letting things go simply isn’t a part of his personality. Javi’s much more willing to grip onto an argument with both hands than let it slip away. He’s learned that when you take people for granted you lose them quicker than you can so much as blink. This loss is another thing he’d expected, but if he can at least leave it on a note that’s a touch less sour, he can go back to Miami with his head held high.
“I didn’t—” he starts, but then stops. He doesn’t actually know where he plans to go with it. He doesn't know exactly why he'll be holding his head high at all. What's he supposed to say? He didn’t mean to? He didn’t mean it?
Scott must be thinking the same thing, because he whirls on him without any sort of warning.
“You didn’t what?” Scott seethes, his voice quiet and his tone lethal. “You didn’t mean to leave me on the side of the road while a goddamn tornado was coming?”
He’s got height to him, a lot of height, and for anyone else the way he towers over Javi would be intimidating. But Javi’s spent his entire life being shorter than other men, and smaller than the things he’s chasing after. It doesn’t even break his stride. You face down an EF5, and suddenly your incredibly tall and incredibly pissed-off partner (in more ways than one?) isn’t really that much of a challenge.
“Go ahead,” Scott dares him. “Say it. You didn’t mean it. Go on.”
It’s weird that he’s got his sunglasses pushed up onto his forehead instead of wearing them, and the bright blue of his eyes reflects the skies that they match so well. There’s a cut just on the underside of his jaw. Javi wonders if he’d cut himself shaving this morning, because that’s not like Scott at all to do something so careless.
“...I called in to Wizard to let them know you were there,” Javi finally says quietly, because he had. It’d been the first thing he’d done, watching Scott shrink into a dot in his rearview mirror. “I didn’t just leave you there. You know I wouldn't.”
Scott wrinkles his nose at him in a sneer, a sure sign that Javi had answered wrong. It’s a cruel gesture, one that Javi’s seen Scott give plenty of people over the years, including him. Scott knows how to cut to the quick, and he knows when silence is the best weapon. But he also knows exactly what words to use to do just as much damage.
“I know that,” Scott says almost primly, but the anger underlying the words keeps it from being tempered. “You think Peter didn’t fucking tell me that?”
Oh, yeah. Scott’s swearing at him. That’s how Javi knows he’s fucked up.
“You still haven’t said it,” Scott continues, like none of that matters, and maybe it doesn't. Maybe Scott knew just as well as he did that Javi wasn't ever going to truly leave him alone out there, and he just doesn't care. “Say it, Javi.”
Javi thinks back to that moment when he hit the gas on the truck. The stupid muffin’s still in his one hand, and absurdly, he looks down at it and then turns away to throw it into the trash by the hotel doors. He’s not running away, no. He hadn’t run away then, either. Instead, he’s doing something he doesn’t often try: he’s thinking before he answers.
“I didn’t mean it,” he finally says, shoving the muffin down against the overflow of fast food cartons and empty plastic cups. The trash bag needs to be changed out. “You know what, though? I don’t think you meant what you said, either, Scott."
He takes a breath, hesitates, and then just goes and takes the plunge.
"But maybe I was worried that you did,” he finally admits softly.
As he’d expected—much like he’d expected to get dumped by Riggs the second he walked into that hotel room— he can hear the way that Scott reels from it. The silence that follows Javi's admission is louder than the cars that drive past, louder than the wind that gently ruffles the spruce trees that had been planted along the hotel’s exterior. He can hear the joyful shouts of a reunion in the parking lot, but it’s deafened by that damn silence.
When Javi turns, he sees Scott staring at him with a look that Javi’s never seen in his expression before.
It's hurt. He’s hurt.
“Go ahead.” It’s an echo of what Scott had said, but this time there’s something underlying it that Javi knows he can’t hide: a desperate plea. His voice is quiet, begging that Scott can be honest. “Say you didn’t mean it.”
That pain in Scott’s face twists itself into something that wants to be anger again. Scott’s not exactly a likable guy, and they all know it. He’s harsh and likes to make snide comments, comments that he knows will sting for hours. He sees exactly where someone’s weak spot is, and he doesn’t attack it so much as digs at it with the knowledge that he’s doing more damage in the long run than he is on the spot. He doesn’t smile very often, and he has a lack of humility that speaks to an ego he probably doesn’t deserve to have.
But Javi's tasted that smile before, just drunk enough to know it wasn’t a fling. Just drunk enough to know that there was that same honesty in it, too. There’s a lot of things they mean and don’t mean, but Javi knows that he’d meant it that night, even if he could write it off as being wasted.
Neither of them had been wasted. They’d barely been tipsy, and they both know it. They’ve both always known that, and maybe that’s what makes this all the harder to swallow.
"Say you didn't mean it," Javi tries again, unwilling to quit until he doesn't have a choice.
And then something happens that Javi truly didn’t expect. Scott’s face crumples, just for a second, and he hangs his head a little to cover his eyes with one hand.
“Of course I didn’t mean it, Javi,” he whispers, and Javi’s stomach and heart lurch in the same motion. “I was scared.”
It’s like a punch. It hits Javi so hard that he actually has to take a step back, trying to rationalize and reason through an answer he’d never expected to hear. With the sort of things they do, scared is something you push to the side and run headlong into. He’s seen Scott shove his goggles onto his face and run out of the truck before Javi’s barely put it in park, throwing himself into the winds of a damned tornado like nothing else mattered. He’d say it would be because of the data they needed, because they could use that information to further their research. He'd say it was because they'd only have the one chance, or else they'd have to wait for another one to form. He'd say that it wasn't really about the tornado, but about the science and the profit.
But Javi had seen that smile, and he knows better. He knows that Scott loves the chase, too.
“You were… scared?” Javi repeats stupidly, blinking. He feels like they should be talking about this somewhere else, instead of the very open parking lot of a hotel, but no one seems to notice the way that the earth seems to be sweeping out from underneath him.
Scott’s head comes back up again, and he looks absolutely bewildered by the answer. It’s so much emotion that Javi’s left reeling.
“Of course I was scared!” Scott snaps, some of his anger returning with a vengeance. “We nearly died, Javi! Did you somehow miss that part?”
No, he didn’t miss that part. He could never forget the way it felt to be in the truck on its side as flames and wind came crashing towards them, Scott’s hand squeezing his shoulder. He remembers tasting blood in his mouth, the blood that had caked Scott’s hairline. He remembers how it’d either been a stroke of luck or the hand of God Himself that had sent that debris flying against their truck in just the right way to get it back onto all four tires again. He remembers being so scared he could’ve shit himself.
But Scott had smiled and laughed and cared more about the data than the people.
Right?
“You were scared?” Javi says yet again, like he’s some kind of toy with a pull string. And then he says something truly idiotic. “No you weren’t.”
Scott looks very much like he’d like to slap him, and maybe it’s only propriety that stops him from doing so. That, or it’s just not in Scott’s nature. Javi likes to think it’s the second one, because for all of Scott’s cruelty, Javi doesn’t think he has it in him to be physical, no matter how physically imposing he might be.
“Fine,” Scott says, and uses his index finger to flick his sunglasses back down onto his nose. A shield, maybe. “Think what you want, Javi. I won’t stop you.”
And he turns, prepared to walk out of Javi’s life forever. Javi remembers how it had felt to kiss that rare, wonderful smile, and he remembers how Scott’s hand had shook when he’d clutched at his shoulder in that car, and he remembers with a sudden clarity how manic and out of breath Scott had been when he’d snarled I don’t care about the people!
Scared. He was scared.
People do stupid things when they’re scared. Javi would know.
In that moment, Javi realizes that he has to go back to what he does best. He has to do something without thinking about it, because if he wastes even a second trying to consider the consequences then he’ll lose that chance forever, and there’s no way he could ever possibly get it back. It’ll be lost to the storm, and wherever it crash lands will be too far away for him to ever find its mangled remains.
People do stupid things when they’re scared, and right now Javi’s terrified.
“Hey,” he says loudly, striding up to Scott and grabbing at his shoulder to turn him around. “Asshole.”
Scott follows the movement with a clear intent to start the fight up again, his teeth clenched. Javi can see his eyes behind the polarized glaze of his sunglasses, and without even really thinking about it he grabs them and throws them to the ground.
If they shatter, Javi doesn’t care. He just grabs Scott by the jaw, feeling that little scab against his pinky finger, and drags him down for a kiss. He tastes like black coffee, acrid and bitter, and it's exactly the way he remembers. Scott probably tastes blueberry.
Familiar as it is, though, it doesn't exactly go the way he'd want it to. It’s nothing like the movies would have you believe when you do something sweeping and romantic. Instead of freezing against him, or grabbing Javi by the waist and dragging him close while fireworks go off, Scott shoves him away and stares at him incredulously, his eyes wide and his cheeks turning bright red.
“Are you out of your mind?” he demands, looking mortified. “We’re in public!”
There’s a brief pause while they stare at each other.
And oh, he can’t help it. Javi can’t help but bust out laughing, arms coming around his own stomach while he gasps for air at the look on Scott's face. His eyes squeeze shut as he giggles and huffs wildly, stumbling back a little to try and regain some semblance of balance. Scott’s staring at him with what’s probably both horror and confusion, still so red that he looks like a tomato.
“Of course I’m out of my mind,” Javi says between gulps of air. “I’m in love with the biggest jackass I’ve ever met. I should be institutionalized, probably. Know what I mean?”
This time, Scott sputters.
“You’re insane.” He looks like he’s not even sure where he is, but his hand does come up to touch his lips just briefly before he uses that same hand to point accusingly. “You’re insane, Javi.”
“Yeah,” Javi agrees, but when he steps up again, Scott doesn’t move away. He watches Javi with that eagle-eyed gaze of his, head tilted just so to study him. He looks… curious. His lips are parted, and his eyelashes are long, and he's far more handsome than he ought to be. Javi keeps going, his mouth quirked up on one side. “Yeah, I'm insane. But you are, too. We run into tornadoes, man. What part of that sounds normal? This right here, this is the normal part for most people.”
“...what’s the normal part?” Scott asks cautiously. Just like with Javi’s muffin, he’s still got the damn tablet in one hand. It’s kind of goofy.
Javi gestures between them with a loose hand, still grinning.
“This part,” he says. “The whole relationship thing.”
The flush in Scott's cheeks grows deeper.
“We don’t have a relationship,” he says quickly, like he's pretending that night never happened.
It’s meant to sting, Javi’s sure, but this time Scott sounds like he’s uncertain about it. Like he’s testing out the waters, or looking up at the sky to see if the clouds match the screen. Like he’s trying to see if what he knows matches up with what he wants, or if he's never really known the answer at all.
“Well, yeah,” Javi says, drawing it out slowly, and runs one hand carefully down the side of Scott's face. Scott doesn't move away this time. “We gotta work on that part. Right? That's part of being normal about it.”
It’s a bold move, and maybe it’s even a bit presumptuous. But even if he hadn’t tasted the smile in this kiss like he had before, it’d been enough to remind him that it was there. It’d be enough to remind Javi that there was something in that moment they could build on. Like those damn twisters, you can’t figure out how it forms but you can put together the pieces, until you can see it happen in real time. He hopes that’s what this is.
Scott swallows, breathing in hard through his nose and then letting it out slowly.
“It probably won’t work out,” he warns, his lips just barely touching the pad of Javi's thumb.
“Or it could,” Javi returns, and lets his hand drop. “Don’t know until you try.”
“My uncle won’t be happy,” Scott continues, a bit more hesitant.
Javi rolls his eyes.
“Fuck your uncle, man.”
Scott’s lips thin, but this time Javi can see that he’s wavering. They’ve spent too much time together for them to not be able to pick up the minutiae, to be able to see what the other’s thinking and act accordingly. He can see that Scott wants to say no, that he wants to fight this some more, but it’s starting to falter. Javi can see it. It’s going to take time for the two of them to truly get past their fight in the truck, and Javi thinks that he’s probably going to be paying for the mud on Scott’s shirt for a hot minute.
But finally, Scott sighs and swoops down to pick up his sunglasses. They’re not so much as chipped, and he turns them over in his hands. There’s a crease between his eyebrows, like he’s thinking hard, and then finally he looks back up at Javi in a way that tells him they’ll be okay eventually.
“You know,” Scott says, and sticks his glasses back onto his face. His cheeks are still pink. “There’s a cell about a mile east, and it looks like it might give us something. Do you wanna go and check it out?”
Javi cuffs his shoulder with his own and grins.
“Come on, Scotty,” he says playfully, knowing how much he hates the nickname. “Who’re you asking?”
And like the sun after the clouds finally break, Scott smiles.