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Fear was an easy emotion.
Steel blue and wispy clouds, shadows that flickered if you stared too long and a cold sensation washing down your spine when the darkness winked at you. Delve too long into that imagery and you'll find yourself with paranoia seeping in through your cracks until you become a husk of yourself.
Drifter learned this whenever Duviri shifted its tides and Thrax's fears began to spill like a fountain.
Despite being so accustomed to the fear spiral, he didn't know how to contain his own fear. Especially since finding a home in 1999 with the Hex and fears crept up his throat until he felt like he was choking on them.
Maybe that's why he'd slithered back to Duviri where he knew he could keep a constant after pouring his heart out to a man about the sins he committed as a kid to survive.
Maybe he should've kept a tighter lock on his heart when it began to ache when he'd walk past an empty shooting range during patrols.
Too many maybes could be conjured up and reasoned away but Drifter knew he was wholly fucked no matter what. Not to mention the fact he disappeared on everyone back in 1999 after throwing the equivalent of a tantrum in his room over a boy like a child over a toy. Embarrassing.
Now he had to crawl back like a dog with his tail between his legs and try to explain why he vanished back into the hell he clawed his way out of the first time.
⊱✿⊰
Drifter found himself dragging his feet when he slipped back into 1999, the muffled sounds of the mall washing over him as he stood in his room. The place looking like it was overturned on its head from his previous tantrum and he sighed heavily. Consequences of your own actions and all.
He was barely able to see the moon as it trudged through the dark through the windows of his room and relief loosened his shoulders. Maybe he'd get lucky and all the members of the Hex that would ask too many questions were asleep so he could sneak downstairs and grab a shower.
It was enough hope to convince him to try. Plus, he missed running hot water.
Armed with his small bag of supplies and a change of clothes under one arm, he attempted to slip his way downstairs towards the communal showers. Falling easily into the shadows, the void embraced him as he used it to sneak through the mall and past the few mingling civilians up at this hour.
A weird spark tingled at the base of his skull as if someone was watching him but he knew no one could actually see him. Despite that, he still glanced around and found nothing. His steps faltering momentarily before he was on his way again.
The lingering feeling of eyes on him didn't leave even when he slipped into the silent locker room and found a bench closer to the showers to place his stuff as he began stripping down.
Even with warm water running over Drifter, he still felt like something was wrong. The hair on the back of his neck stood up as he ran his fingers through the strands, shampoo suds mixing with the water and he tried to ignore the sensation. As more time passed and he cleaned himself off he swore something was there but when he glanced back it was just that same empty locker room.
He finished up his shower quickly after the lingering sense of paranoia began crawling up his spine to wrap around his throat and when the water shut off he swore he heard something creak behind him.
Drifter didn't hesitate as he spun around, sirocco forming in his hands and almost firing at the sight of someone leaning up against one of the lockers, dark eyes locked onto him with that infuriating glint that had haunted him in Duviri.
"Fuck!" He gasped, releasing his gun as it fell back into the void and he took a small step back. "You can't just- Fuck, Quincy, learn to knock."
The sniper kissed his teeth as he shifted against the locker, arms crossing over his chest as he gave Drifter an unimpressed look. "Mate, you're the one that disappeared, yeah? Had Lettie stressin' like mad, thought she was gonna kill somethin'. Had to make sure I wasn't seein' shit."
Both of them stared in silence for a moment as Drifter shifted words around on his tongue, trying to figure out what to say but failed under the tension. His fingers twitched at his sides before he huffed and grabbed his towel, drying himself off partially while the tension mounted.
Being naked in front of Quincy wasn't a problem, they've hooked up plenty of times before but when his feelings got involved then it was an issue. An issue that had a sickening ache slithering around Drifter's heart and clenching hard until he wanted to scream and start a fight. The thought crossed his mind briefly but he knew he was easily outmatched here.
He wrapped his first towel around his waist as he reached for the second one, lips pressed in a thin line. "Had something important to do," he lied easily but he knew it fell short.
"Important? Important enuf to sneak back into the mall, then?"
"Yeah… Something like that."
"… You're proper shit at lyin', G."
"Piss off," Drifter mumbled and felt his ears burn when Quincy called his bluff, hiding the reddening tips as he rubbed his hair dry with the towel.
The way the sniper stared at him felt like he was on the end of his gun, reticle pointed over his heart and finger on the trigger. He reached for his clothes with trembling fingers as he felt eyes boring into the side of his face while he changed.
He could only feel the tension getting worse as he dressed, carefully keeping his gaze away from Quincy even as he heard him move.
Another beat of silence passed between them as Quincy settled into the bench across from him. "Could've given us a warning. A text," Quincy started slowly, words chosen carefully as his eyes lingered. "Almost didn't expect you to come back."
"What?" Drifter blurted out, lifting his head almost fast enough to make him dizzy as he met Quincy's gaze and got a shrug in response.
"It's been two weeks, mate. His Maj was losing hope, gonna be proper pissed at you. Just sayin'."
"Ah- fuck, I didn't mean to be—"
"Gone that long? Don't play with me, I know what you were doing. I pissed you off and you ran, yeah?"
The matter of fact way Quincy spoke had Drifter's shoulders dropping, a sigh slipping through his lips as he moved things around to sit on the bench facing him. He felt the creeping of guilt spreading from his chest to his fingertips and he took a deep breath.
He shifted, hands braced on the bench as he leaned back slightly and nodded, "Okay, yeah, you got me. I was pissed and I ran off like a child. It was stupid of me."
"Mhm… And now you're back," Quincy pointed out with an unreadable stare and tilt of his head. "You gonna run off again when you get mad?"
"…No."
"Sure?"
"Quincy."
"Drifter."
There was a slight raise of one of Quincy's brows and it drove Drifter insane, forcing himself to scowl and look away. "Fine! I won't run away. Maybe."
"Gonna haveta put a bell on you too, can't have you sneakin' around the mall. Gonna scare the civvies."
"What? Like a collar?"
"Focus."
"Yeah, yeah. Focused."
"Good, now—" Quincy shifted to lean towards him, hands pressed against his thighs before fixing Drifter with a pointed stare. "You failed."
"I'm… sorry?"
"You failed, you were supposed to make me hate you, yeah? Remember? Before you ran off?"
Drifter felt his heart leap in his throat before he shifted awkwardly — why now of all times? "Yeah, I remember… We still doing this?"
"Well since you failed looks like I have to do all the work. Just like always," Quincy huffed, his eyes sharpening while he stared Drifter down with something unreadable lingering in his eyes. " 'Cuz someone's gotta do this right and if it ain't you then it'll be me. Seen?"
His eyes narrowed and Drifter gestured vaguely, a sinking feeling tugging at him as he realized where this was probably going but he needed to hear this. Needed to fully understand why Quincy was so adamant on this. He already knew bits and pieces of the sniper's family, heard some stories about the army from Arthur, it wasn't too hard to figure it out but he still needed to hear it from the man himself.
"Good. Now, it doesn't take a genius to figure out His Maj is the reason I'm 'ere, reason I vowed to never let anyone in again. Luck of the draw had me in his regiment, me, fresh outta the academy and him the commander. What a chance, yeah? Well —" Quincy pauses, taking a deep breath and rubbing a hand over his face. "You know, life don't work like we want it to. Wanted to play by the rules, get in, get out, go fuck off back to my fam and do what I wanted. Nah, learned quick they don't like it when you're different, people like me? People looked down on me. Had me uppin' my game just to stay lookin' out for myself, no one else."
Drifter hummed, crossing his arms over his chest as he tilted his head slightly. His lips pressed into a thin line as he nodded along and tried to swallow around the lump in his throat.
He watched as Quincy examined him for a moment as if waiting for to be stopped but when nothing happened he continued. "Worked out for a while, before shit hit the fan. One mission, I'm on observation, Arthur down on the field with the others when the opps start scramblin' for us. They knew we were here and when it came down to it… I saved my own ass. Radioed in we got compromised before going to leave — wrong move — they got me on the business end of some opp's rifle and drag me out to the street. On my knees with a fuckin' pistol 'bout to blow my brains out when fuckin' Arthur comes outta left field like some knight in shining armor, saving me. I was so fuckin' mad at him."
"Assuming you yelled at him right there afterwards?" Drifter carefully responded and with the way the sniper's face twisted, he knew he was right.
"Fuck! Yes, of course I did! Got up right off my knees and told him off," Quincy growled with his head falling into his hands before dragging them down his face with a frustrated groan. "Now I got this motherfucker to worry about when I said I was gonna look after myself — and then a month later he's about to get discharged?! He's got me going with him 'cause now I owe him… sayin' 'it'll be okay' like I wasn't kissing all my plans goodbye. So we joined the ICR and well…"
Drifter shifted forward on his bench, leaning towards Quincy with furrowed brows. "Then the techrot, so now you're here… and you still owe him your life?"
"… Yeah. Can't walk away now. Couldn't then either but now… Now it's different. Now you've gone and kicked my doors down after everyone's used me like a toy soldier and fuckin' cared 'bout me for no good reason. What the fuck was I supposed to do?"
"No, I get it. Kinda. You needed to protect yourself, I would've done the same in your case. Probably a lot more avoiding but still. You get what I mean."
Quincy let out a dry laugh as he nodded, "Yeah, seems like your go to thing. Doesn't mean it's right though, I'm sorry. I'm just… scared, I think. Scared that 'us' is gonna ruin me again — whatever that is."
"Nah, I already forgave you a bit ago. Kinda gathered what this was about," Drifter replied with an awkward smile, reaching out to gently grab one of his hands. "I was also scared. Scared of coming back and everyone wanting me to stay gone so, well, I stayed gone a little longer. However, I really did mean it when I said I liked you, yeah? Even though you snuck up on me while I was showering."
"Couldn't help it, saw you sneakin' around. Had to see what you were up too, view was nice too."
"Flatterer."
"You know it."
A moment of silence passed between the pair, Drifter rubbing his thumb over Quincy's knuckles as he felt his metallic fingers twitch into his. "So…"
"Mhm?"
"Where does this leave… 'us'?"
"Depends. You really willing to try 'us'? Might be a handful, you know."
"Mmm… yeah, I am. I'm sure I can handle you. Made it this far, yeah?"
"Yeah," Quincy breathed, slipping his hand out of Drifter's to gently lift his wrist to his lips. The warmth of his lips against Drifter's cold void-touched wrist was a lethal concoction to his composure, Drifter's cheeks staining red. "Damn. Sensitive are we?"
"Shove it," Drifter grumbled as his face burned hotter but didn't deny the accusation. "Just — Let's just go get some drinks. Or something. You gotta fill me in on what happened while I was gone."
Quincy laughed before letting go of Drifter's wrist and standing up, flashing a knowing grin. "Yeah, sure, whatever you want babes."
⊱✿⊰
Alcohol dulled the couples senses as they chatted into the early morning, knees bumping together and eyes softening. A moment of peace after the past two weeks of emotional spirals and constant patrols.
Quincy had stopped talking awhile ago, his chin in his palm as he listened to Drifter going on about the animals he'd taken in and cared for with a small smile.
His eyes traced over Drifter's face before movement caught his eye near the entrance to the Round Table and his eyes wandered. He grinned when he noticed who it was before turning back to Drifter — who was still talking — and tapped his chin with a finger.
"Someone's here for you babes," Quincy mused as he tilted his head and Drifter followed his gaze to a very angry looking Lettie.
Drifter's mouth quickly clicked shut and he dramatically turned to Quincy to whisper loud enough for Lettie to hear as she walked over, "Plan my funeral. Tell my kavat I love her and everything I own goes to you."
Lettie stared down at Drifter, arms crossed across her chest and a glare that could kill a man. "You. Come."
He made a noise that almost sounded like a balloon deflating before slowly sliding out of his seat and trudging after Lettie, glancing back at Quincy with eyes silently pleading for help but he only got a snicker and a shake of a head back. Yeah, he still was fucked.