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The moment they are teleported back into the main cabin, a harmony of creaky floors and wind tapping against old windows takes over. With the last round of the night marked done, everyone is retiring to do their own things, their steps echoing throughout.
By now, a routine has settled for each one of them. It's not strict. Not overbearing. Just some nights, people gather, and other nights, they scram in search of a peace they rarely find within solitude.
Usually, someone takes attendance, just as a precaution. They have duties like this for a lot of things. Keeping inventory, cleaning, cooking, chopping wood for the fire, and more random bits that tend to make life more normal for all of them.
Tonight, it's Elliot who is in charge of preparing dinner.
It's not terribly hard to have an idea of what to make. By now, he's learnt the gist of what his teammates like and dislike. Baked casserole, like. Stir fry, like. Shepherd's pie, dislike, but okay when their stock is low.
This week, the team's inventory is more than plentiful, though it's not like they have a huge variety of ingredients.
A yawn leaves Elliot's mouth.
For tonight, he thinks he'll go with a classic all-around favorite: pizza.
He'd prepared dough earlier in the week, so he won't have to start from scratch. It's an easy choice that won't tire him out too much to make, and his teammates like it plenty. If Elliot cuts and roasts the toppings beforehand, everything can be laid out and ready for them to simply choose.
"Elliot," a friendly voice calls out.
Guest approaches, easy-going with his arms crossed.
"Got a minute?"
"Yeah," Elliot rolls his shoulders and picks himself up, "How can I help?"
"Actually, I was wondering if there was any way I could help you."
Help him, huh. Elliot laughs. That sounds like Guest, alright.
He'd tried to hide the drowsiness clinging to his eyes, blinking them often to stay alert. Even his yawns, he'd masked with deep breaths. Anything to last the round.
But Guest, man, he has to have a secret radar or something of the kind. It's not the first time Elliot's found himself being semi-interrogated by the army soldier. It's gotten to the point that he skips his attempts to stow away his issues and instead confides in his teammate. So far, Guest has never let him down, and Elliot has little reason to think he ever will. Guest is just like that.
"Nothing ever escapes you," Elliot admires the man in front of him. "I'm not saying this to wave you off or anything, but I'm fine, really. I guess I didn't sleep as well as I thought."
The concern etched on Guest's face switches itself out for understanding.
"Waving me off never works, you know that."
"Too well, really," Elliot adds.
Guest chuckles. "You're in charge of dinner tonight, right?"
Elliot sighs. "Yeah, I should get to that. Shouldn't I? I hope you're okay with pizza." Even if he isn't, Elliot's afraid that's all he's capable of in the moment.
"Go lie down in your room or wherever. I'll handle dinner. You're barely standing as it is."
"I'm good, I have everything prepped-"
"I don't doubt it," Guest cuts that train of thought. "I'll make good use of everything. You should get proper rest."
"I will, after I cook dinner!"
Elliot plants his feet in an effort to slow down Guest's gentle assistance, guiding him towards the stairs. It's more of a last-ditch effort than anything. Guest is not only stronger, but also impossibly stubborn. When his friends and loved ones are involved, there's really no stopping him. It'd be more touching if Elliot weren't just as stubborn and didn't get occasionally frustrated because he wants to be as helpful, too.
"Wait," he turns around, desperately, facing Guest as he's pushed. "I can't go to bed yet. I still need to eat."
Guest's eyes soften.
A knuckle comes up to brush a stray hair near Elliot's eyes.
It's a fleeting touch, but it unleashes a wild warmth in the blond.
Worse off, Guest doesn't stop there. His hand rests on Elliot's shoulder, going for comforting, but striking much more dangerously close to the heart. The action leaves no room for Elliot to fight back.
"Don't worry," the man tells him. "I'll wake you myself when dinner's ready. I can handle making pizza. You just focus on catching up on sleep."
"But-"
"Unless I need to put you to bed myself? Someone else can handle dinner."
Anything the blond may have been thinking goes out the window.
Elliot: 0! Guest: 1!!!
"I thought so." Guest's deep chuckle is downright mean. Elliot can't say anything back. "At least try, will you? Up you go. I don't want to see you back here until after you've gotten some sleep."
With an air of finality, Elliot is swiveled around and sent upstairs with a pat on the back.
He knows he must have slept. One second, he had found himself still blindsided in his bed, and the other, he was already standing up, very minimally more rested.
The sentiment Guest tried at was sweet, but it's for nought. Elliot isn't a nap type of person. Never has been. He either sleeps his eight hours or he doesn't. His body rarely listens to him when he tries to sleep otherwise.
There is little to show for his so-called nap except a sore neck and a pesky drowsiness he can't shake off with any warm-up. Really, he doesn’t want to be a debby downer, but it’s tough to feel appreciative of the nap when it passed by before he could enjoy any of it. Talk about a waste of time…
He sighs.
Well.
No use complaining about it.
The clock in his room proves it to be only a little later than when he made his way upstairs. With that clear, it's still pretty early overall, enough so he could probably help out with dinner if it isn't already done.
Guest had told him not to worry about dinner. And he’s not! Guest is a grown man with the skills, capabilities, and maturity of one, being able to handle a simple thing such as dinner.
Elliot does trust him, but it wouldn’t hurt to check in, right?
It’d be a nice thing! They could give each other a hand around the kitchen, and maybe talk along the way. Who knows, maybe they could even play a game of cards if they make haste and have dinner in the oven before long.
It hasn’t been long since he headed to his room, anyhow. Elliot quickly makes his way down the stairs, minding himself so he doesn’t incidentally wake anyone who may also be trying to rest.
He’s planning to jog past the living area when he catches Noob in the corner, seeming a bit odder than usual.
They’re accomplishing a weirdly impressive job of disassociating in place and fidgeting so much it looks like they’ve caught a case of the shingles. Elliot almost can’t decide if he should approach.
He’s worried. While Noob’s skittishness can be easily mistaken as eager fearfulness, they truly aren’t fainthearted. They can handle more than one would think. What could’ve possibly frightened them this much?
“Elliot!”
Elliot jumps. He hadn’t expected Noob to call him out.
“Noob! Is everything alright?”
“No matter what,” trembling hands shake Elliot by his shoulders, their owner wailing and begging, “Do not go in the kitchen!”
A frown falls onto Elliot’s face. His heart turns to ice.
Guest is supposed to be in the kitchen…
Elliot’s hands fly up to help stabilize Noob’s. He drags them both farther into the cabin, choosing a safe corner to whisper in.
Had something happened?
He checks to see if the telltale timer has begun.
They’re supposed to be resting, catching up for the next day and next round, but he wouldn’t be surprised if whatever's keeping them hostage has suddenly decided to turn the tables on them. It’d be the exact type of thing it would do. A “fun” surprise to keep everyone on their toes, churning their anxieties and alarm bells to the limit.
“Talk to me,” Elliot whispers to his still wailing teammate, “Noob, you’ve got to tell me what’s going on. It’s the only way I can help.”
Noob shakes their head furiously, so fast their hair extensions mix into one color.
“I tried telling them to stop.”
Their voice trembles. It’s been forever since Elliot’s heard it take on that tone. He wishes he could do something to relieve the pain in it, but he’s completely in the dark. Noob has got to talk to him.
“They wouldn’t listen to me! I swear, I really tried!”
“I believe you. You tried,” Elliot attempts at consoling, easy and simple. “You did your best, Noob. Now, I just need you to tell me what happened.”
Noob refuses.
What they witnessed, nothing could form it into speakable words. It would be incomprehensible for any normal, sane person to attempt to compute. Elliot’s been nothing but kind to them. From their first day there, the blond has made space for their worries and made sure they felt nothing but validated. They want to spare him the horror.
“Stay here.” Elliot motions to them. “I’ll be back, okay? I just need to check on the others.”
Noob catches his sleeve. “Don’t –!”
“Hey, hey. Everything’s going to be fine. I’ll be fast. You won’t even notice I'm gone.”
With a soft brush of his hand, Elliot frees his sleeve.
It’s getting seriously difficult to rein in his worry.
For Noob, he tries. His best attempt at a smile is given; he has to hope it doesn’t fall short with the tension.
Noob’s moved on to holding their own sleeve. A dark stain marks the cuff of it, where their hand tugs nervously. (Elliot makes a note to later help care for the injury that may be there.) At this point, they have lightened down a bit, if their quietly beating anxiety can be deemed that. They gasp through their own breaths and try again to get Elliot to see the severity of the situation.
“It’s bad in there,” they say.
Elliot nods. “I get it. But the others… I have to check on them.”
A grim expression takes over Noob. They nod back. “I know."
Elliot sends them a parting smile. It’s thin, but it does its job. Noob stays put, and he’s free to roam further where he can finally see what all the fuss is about.
The walk to the kitchen is unearthly. A sort of buzzing pushes on senses Elliot hadn’t even known were present. Chatter cuts in and out, leaving like rain in the sun, almost like it never appeared at all. The way forward is strenuous, and fatigue plays mean tricks with every step.
Elliot knows he had been feeling tired just a few minutes prior, but the extent of his tiredness right now is tremendous. His legs feel heavy under him. It takes a huge effort to move at all.
It really is like everything is pointing to something being off. Something Elliot shouldn’t involve himself with.
But who would he be if he didn't keep going?
This place has robbed Elliot of many things. He will not let it take the part of him that still cares.
When he makes it to the kitchen, Elliot resists the silly urge to call out to anyone. If by chance, someone, or something, more than his teammates is inside, he would only be putting them in danger by asking a foolish question.
The best option he thinks of is simply pushing the door open.
He does this, palm flat against the wood door and feet ready, or so he hopes, to sprint.
He’s trying to be smart here. Alert. Precautious.
But he can’t help it; his eyes squeeze shut as the door creaks open.
“...”
A little more, and he’ll be face-to-face with what Noob was afraid of.
“...”
There would be no turning back. Just him, a healer, alone, with no means to protect.
“...”
He’s going to do it. He’s going to check. One… He sucks air in. Two… He lets it settle.
“Elliot? Watcha doin’ standing by the door?”
Elliot’s eyes fly open, and the breath he’d been holding in escapes with pure shock.
Chance stands there, looking at him with the same look he always has. There’s quite literally nothing off to them. No sign of something evil and sinister happening in the kitchen like Noob had led him to believe.
Elliot lets out a shaky laugh. He can’t help it. “You won’t believe what I thought.”
Chance laughs. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah! I ran into Noob in the common area, and they were acting really strange.”
“Strange, eh? Sounds like the Noob I know.”
Elliot throws the man a slight glare. “Anyways, they really did look scared! Can you believe they even told me not to come in here? They totally made me think something was going…”
He sees it.
“...on.”
Chance’s head tilts curiously. “Bud?”
Elliot is torn between stepping away, fast, slow, anyway that will get him out of there, and rushing forward to confirm he’s seeing things right.
“Chance,” he gets the name through clenched teeth, “What… What is going on…?”
Chance follows his eyes to the table a few feet away.
Most of their teammates have gathered there. Some sit, some stand. It’s a mess of people at a place that is rarely full because someone has either chosen to sleep rather than join in on meals, or another has taken their share up to their room, or people don’t feel like entertaining the normalcy of sitting together, whilst otherwise in an apocalyptic situation.
Anyway, the table is full.
It is also dripping with a deep red.
It’s the type of red that Elliot’s come to be very familiar with over the years. The same red staining Noob's sweater.
“Oh yeah! You were sleepin’ and all, so we didn’t wake you.”
Chance steps closer, and Elliot steps back. The action is not pointed out, but it is there.
“Everyone got sorta hungry, and Guest wasn’t cooking fast enough, if you know what I mean.” Chance throws a nod at the table. “It took us a while to think, but eventually 007 came up with something. What’aya think?”
Elliot’s stomach churns. “This was Seven’s idea?”
Who is he kidding? Of course it is. It has Seven written all over it.
Elliot doesn’t mean to keep his prejudices, but he’s well familiarized with the man. Although he seems to have mellowed out and practiced self-reflection, it would be a complete lie to say he’s not capable of such cruelty.
The server-wide hacks. The full-blown fires. The personal attacks on Elliot and his family’s business.
The blond has witnessed it all firsthand, and he’d be a fool to forget it so easily.
He has even entrusted some of this to Chance, not to instill harm, but you know, friend-to-friend. A way to alleviate each other's stress with a little background and trust between friends.
That seems to have been for nothing.
“I’ve gotta tell you, I didn’t expect this from him.” Chance continues on their parade, oblivious to Elliot’s inner turmoil. “But man, I’ve got to give it to him. This is genius. I would’ve never thought of it myself.”
Elliot breathes in and out. It’s really becoming hard to stay present in the moment when something as nauseating as what is going on is happening.
It becomes worse to handle when Chance takes the initiative to push him forward and closer to the disarray.
“Come on, join us!”
Hands hold him down.
Elliot struggles, but it is no use. He’s pinned. He’s shaking, trying to turn his head at least away from the sight of people, of his teammates, chewing on a miscreation.
Red. So much red.
And worst of all, there are other things mixed in.
His mind is spinning, his head physically convulsing, when his voice calls to him.
“Elliot.”
The voice of the person he trusts with his own life and the others among them.
Guest tempts him. “Come join us. Don't you want to eat together?”
Elliot continues shaking his head. “No! No, I can't!"
“Don’t you trust me? It’s good.” Elliot flinches when he hears the man bite down. A nasty squelch turns his stomach. “You won’t ever know if you like it if you don’t give it a shot.”
What happened? What could have happened for Guest to be lured into this sort of depravity?
No one could be that hungry. Elliot refuses to believe it.
To eat something so sick and twisted? It went against everything he believed in – everything he once thought Guest believed in. What did Seven do to him?
Speaking of the devil, Seven’s decided to use this as his chance to join in.
“I know we’ve had issues in the past, and I’m sorry about that, I am, but can’t you place your faith in me this once?” The man's face is sorrowful, but Elliot knows better. He fights the arms around him. “No!”
“Is this really about past issues? I thought we all agreed to put our pasts behind us.” Builderman cuts in from nowhere. “C’mon, kid. You’re making this more than it has to be. Try it.”
“I’m sorry! I can’t – This is sick! Can’t you see that? He's - He's done something to you!”
Builderman sighs, throwing a glance over his shoulder.
Shedletsky emerges.
Around him, Elliot feels Chance’s arms wrap tighter around him, impossible to break out of. The admin approaches them, a tired look upon him.
“Last chance,” he holds something up to Elliot’s lips, terrifyingly drenched, dripping onto his clothes, and making a mess. “You can be an adult and try it. Or we’ll have to take it into our own hands.”
Why? Why this? Why Elliot? Since when had things gotten so severe that they suddenly decided to turn to inhumanity?
Elliot sucks in his bottom lip, teeth biting down and locking the entrance to his mouth.
Shedletsky barely shows a reaction. “This is your choice, then.”
“Wait.”
Hope races through Elliot as he sees Guest approach. He should’ve trusted the soldier more; of course, he’d never let Elliot down like this. No one else has had his back like Guest has. He just has to be patient.
"I'll feed it to him."
Elliot's heart surges. "No! No, no, no! Please, Guest! Listen to me! This is wrong! You've got to listen to me, please!"
It's no use, though. Guest has taken the 'food' from the admin's hand. The face with which he walks up is worse. He's neither impassive nor cold. He's just Guest. Elliot's Guest. Betraying him in the worst kind of way.
Against his lips, something is pressed. It doesn't ask for permission to pass; it simply does. The texture is unusual and slimy. Elliot doesn't want to, but he's forced to chew. That sensation is awful too, thick, grainy flesh that bursts into something too sweet and rich to ever go well with the rest of the flavors it's accompanied with.
Tears prick the corners of Elliot's eyes. He feels nausea overtake him.
His teammates show no mercy. They smile with razor-sharp teeth and chant his name, taunting.
"Elliot."
"Elliot!"
"Elliot!"
Elliot awakes with a startle.
Instantly, he's sitting up, holding a hand to his chest and trying to settle his racing heart.
Another pair of hands helps him settle down, rubbing circles on his back and practicing the massages they learnt a week or so ago. He faintly remembers being told about it; something, something, bloxtube videos, something, something, "they're good for regulating stress," and "I'll practice on you. You're okay with that, right?" Elliot has to be okay with that. After a nightmare like the one he just had, he needs something to help calm him down.
In his nightclothes, sitting beside him in bed, Guest checks in on him, his own voice clouded with sleep. "You were shaking. I thought it'd be better to wake you. Are you alright?"
Elliot meets his remorseful eyes.
Reasonably, he wants to ease his worry. Instinctively, what he ends up spewing out is, "I can't believe you!"
Brows raised, and body being forced back into the pillows behind him by both shock and his fiance's accusing finger, Guest wavers through his confusion. "I-I'm sorry?"
"You should be!"
Elliot unleashes his emotions onto the man, hands pushing him further and further back.
"I can't believe you'd betray me like that! I thought you had my back, and- and- it turns out you're a traitor! A dirty, mean, awful traitor!"
Guest's confusion grows even more.
"Is this because I didn't wake you up when I got home? I didn't want to take away from your sleep."
Elliot's glare sharpens. "No!"
"Did I forget to wash the dishes again?"
Oh, please, they both know Elliot doesn't mind washing the dishes.
"Don't even," Elliot presses on. "I know what I saw."
"Saw? When?" Guest asks, trying and failing not to bring attention to how close Elliot is. Their chests are pressed against each other's, and the warmth of their bodies is mixing in a way that is hard to find anything but delicious. He finds that his hands have unconsciously roamed to fit themselves right on Elliot's waist. How Elliot expects him to pay attention when he's putting them in this position, Guest has to clue, but damn it, does he try.
His partner groans on top of him. "In my dream!"
Elliot wails in defeat, indulging in quite a fair share of dramatics.
"It was bad," he confesses, settling down. "I should've listened to Noob."
Guest frowns, biting on his lip. "I was in it, you said. Do you want to talk about it?"
Elliot hesitates. "You promise you won't laugh?"
"I've heard it all. You don't have to be afraid of me laughing at you." With great patience, Guest wraps his arms around Elliot and cozies them half under their covers. "I promise I won't. I love you too much for that, Ellie."
Elliot melts, both with the weight of his partner's promise and mild embarrassment. "Okay... Well, it took place back, you know, there. You were worried about me and offered to make dinner for everyone instead."
Guest nods, listening along.
"And you did. But when I came by to eat with everyone, I found you..."
"Yeah?"
"You were doing something awful!"
Ah, Guest has an idea of what this is about. It's happened once before, too, though that time it was Daisy who had the dream. He had tried not to take it personally. Daisy explained it wasn't that she thought he was capable of such a thing; it was just stress manifesting itself in the weirdest way. That clarification being said, Guest took the time to reassure her as well.
In hindsight, he's grateful for that experience. He feels much more comfortable attempting to soothe Elliot now.
"That must've felt terrible to see," he rubs deep circles on Elliot's nape. "I know it must've felt real, but I need you to know I'd never do that to you. I love you too much for that."
Elliot nods. "I know, I know. It was just a dream. But... It's not out of the realm of possibilities, is it?"
"It is," Guest replies with passionate honesty. "I wouldn't ever go behind your back like that. You have my heart, Elliot, you're it for me."
The words don't quite comfort Elliot like he hoped they would.
The blond goes limp against him, also going quiet. He stays like that for several minutes, saying nothing more.
After a few more minutes, he picks up his head only, looking at Guest, who's awaiting him back.
"I don't want you to sacrifice anything just because you like me," he says, feebly, like he's trying to make himself believe the words he's saying. "I love you, too. If you have those sorts of preferences, I... I can be okay with it. I love you. That's all I need."
"Elliot! I'd never -"
"It's fine, really. It is. Personally, I don't get it. But if you like it, that's fine. I'll learn to make your pizza the way you like. You don't have to hide your preferences."
A good handful of what Elliot just said stumps Guest. "Wait, what?"
"Yeah, just because I work at a pizza place and my family owns the business doesn't mean I know all that's good about pizza. Your choices matter, too."
Elliot smiles softly.
"You deserve more than simple pepperoni."
Guest feels his mind implode even further. None of this is making sense. "Elliot. Babe. What was your dream about?"
Elliot looks up at him, too sincerely for his next words to be taken as anything but the truth. "You put mayo and pineapple all over the pizza we were supposed to have for dinner. I mean, I know it was supposed to be Seven's idea, but I thought you could at least talk to me about those things. Even back then, we were close. Weren't we? I don't like the thought of you going behind my back..."
A deep, unrestrained laugh escapes his fiance. It's louder than any other time Elliot's seen him laugh. It'd be endearing if it weren't him who Guest is laughing at.
"You promised you wouldn't laugh!" Elliot squawks.
Guest simply pulls him close, engulfing them both fully under the covers until daylight comes. Seriously, with this guy. He can't wait to spend the rest of their lives together living these tender moments.