guilty filthy soul

Atrius grinned happily as Bailey pulled him closer and answered the wrong question, too enamored to care either way. “Neither of you listen to me.” He argued happily, leaning into Bailey as the other held him. His insides turned to mush as Bailey wished him a happy birthday, in love with the fact that Bailey would ask him about Luna without any bitterness whatsoever. 

“Mhm.” He murmured in response, beaming as Bailey moved them towards the kitchen without letting go of him. “That girl’s on prescriptions so good that it’s a nonstop party. Minus the crutches. And the near-death experience. And the- We had cake.” He stopped himself from rambling, deciding that he didn’t want to unleash the storm of pent up emotions he had regarding the whole incident where Luna had almost gotten blown to smithereens. He had a beautiful guy doing sweet things for him on his birthday, making Atrius feel like he needed to focus on the good things. “I made dinner. Are you hungry? I love my presents, B. That was so nice.” He mumbled, his emotions welling up in his chest as the word love escaped him but not in the way that he wanted it to. “You make me happy, B. Thank you.” 

Bailey should’ve remembered not to bring up Luna, or at least should have expected the sinking feeling in his gut at Atrius’ answer. He’d never had a problem with keeping things to himself before, though he’d also never cared so deeply before. Lying by omission was the only way he could get away with dishonesty-- and it did feel dishonest, deliberately hiding something he should atone for. Something that required more than a desk and battered dog tags.

“I’m glad you like them,” Bailey mumbled into the other’s hair, keeping his face hidden until the tumult in his chest ebbed. Even if the guilt made dead weight of his limbs, it was hard not to feel even a little bit happy around Atrius. Especially when it seemed like Bailey’s first attempt at gift-giving was well-received. His only other comparable experience was signing his name on whatever card was being passed around the camp.

“I like these on you,” Bailey admitted, pulling back to flick the tags. The sliver of space he made between them was enough for Toast to take his chance, fiercely wriggling between them and around Atrius’ legs. 

Cate chuckled softly at the mention of Luna, feeling a small, warm sense of camaraderie at the thought that there was at least one other person in the building who was less equipped to handle hospitals than she was. “It’s not stealing,” she corrected with a tired grin, shifting slightly in the bed as she made herself more comfortable against the pillow. “lt’s borrowing. I don’t steal. I would never ask anyone to steal for me.” Never mind the fact that for a supposed non-thief, she had an alarming tendency to borrow things on an ad hoc, indefinite basis.

She shifted again, wincing slightly when the movement disturbed her wound, before glancing up at her morphine pump and making a mental note to talk her way into a higher dosage again. “What about you?“ she asked casually, looking back at Bailey. "Are you going to be okay?” Of course, she knew that he was not physically injured. But Cate was a little concerned that he might forget to feed himself properly without her usual supervision.

Bailey raised his brows at Cate’s justification of his actions, expression faintly amused even as he said flatly, “It’s only borrowing if there’s intent to return.” He didn’t know how often Cate planned to give back the things she took, but he certainly had no intentions of returning the wheelchair. Engaging in petty thievery was hardly the worst thing he could do for her (considering he’d already done the worst to her). 

Bailey’s frown deepened when he noticed her flinch, stomach curdling with guilt in spite of her earlier reassurance. He met Cate’s gaze for a brief moment, shame fading to confusion at her concern. “I’ll be fine,” he said, eyeing the IV bags hanging by his shoulder. Being this close to medical equipment made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, exacerbated by the fact that they disappeared straight into Cate. “I’m not the one who got rubble scooped out of me.”

“You don’t sound very happy, fam,” he narrowed his eyes in suspicion before his attention quickly darted towards his chicken nuggets. Jeb was convinced that Bailey didn’t really have - or at least show - that many emotions anyway, so he wasn’t particularly surprised when he didn’t sound very happy at all. He had his hand in the McDonald’s bag when Bailey yanked him away, letting out a loud groan when he saw that about half of his McNuggets had accidentally tipped out of the bag.

“You’re a fuckin’ prick, bruv!” he said, feeling the overwhelming urge to just break down crying as tears began to swell up in his eyes. “What the fuck am I meant to do now?” he continued, his voice shakey while he looked down at the fallen chicken nuggets.

Bailey wasn’t as nice of a man as he wanted to be, though he did feel a flash of guilt at rolling his eyes in reaction to the kid’s despair. It was a knee-jerk response to whining that he’d never quite managed to shed since leaving the army, especially when the griping led to tears. But he realized that the kid wasn’t some cadet who had chosen a life of being called a spineless maggot-- Jeb was just a sad little kid who needed cheering up. 

Which left Bailey completely lost, having had much more experience with making people cry than making sure they didn’t. He let the kid have a moment of silence for the nuggets gone astray, before continuing to steer Jeb down the street. “You’ll be okay,” he said in a clumsy attempt at being comforting, though his tone lacked any sense of reassurance. “Don’t cry.” It was meant to sound gentle, but it came out like a command. “Do you want to see Toast?” Bailey offered when it was clear that this was another social interaction that he had no idea how to navigate.

Luna didn’t particularly mind the topic of this conversation. She was trying, very very hard, to look at and think of Bailey as a friend, more than as someone else Atrius was not only sleeping with but had feelings for. Not that either of the two males had said as much, but unlike with Bailey, where she had spent time observing him and making notes of reactions and actions, with Atrius she didn’t need to. They had known each other for far too long for her to need to ask or pay extra attention. It was the way he spoke of Bailey and how desperately he wanted the two of them to get along that spoke volumes. He wouldn’t care as much about it if he didn’t have feelings. 

“Well there are degrees to love. Just because you’d do anything for someone does not mean that you want to make out with them. Platonic versus romantic right. Attraction and all that. If you’re attracted to someone, then your body tends to mess with your mind even more. In my opinion, its more intense. Harder to distance yourself from. Though not necessarily any less fierce than platonic love. Depends on how you love really..” she trailed off a bit, being reminded how her way of loving was not.. well at times it seemed a bit unhealthy. Created issues for her that she most often ended up wanted to run from or escape, unable to fully handle the drama she was responsible for creating. “I’m not the greatest example to draw from.” she stated. “I tend to love with every fibre of me, like.. I’m either all or nothing. Which, I think can cause a lot more grief than I intend on. Anger, jealousy, sadness, I take all those with me when I love someone. And apparently thats.. not so easy to handle..” she shrugged, directing her stare away, embarrassed. Disliking the fact that she had somehow managed to expose herself, sounding vulnerable. 

Taking a deep breath, she directed her gaze back, brows raised in curiosity. “It doesn’t cover how you feel? Its what.. deeper?” Her stomach churned afterwards. God why was she asking for details? To help him out maybe.. to determine just how much competition she had? Definitely. To torture herself with the knowledge of how great Bailey’s love for Atrius was? Possibly. 

Bailey completely abandoned the pretense that he was dealing them a game, though he continued shuffling the cards in an effort to keep his hands busy. His expression grew increasingly conflicted with Luna’s words, lacking in experience so severely that he didn’t have a single point of reference to infer from. Even in terms of platonic versus romantic love, he was at a complete loss. He’d never had a family growing up, and he’d be hard pressed to refer to the associates he’d made over the years as friends. Cate was the first person he’d come to care deeply for, and he hadn’t known her for very long before he met Atrius. Love, in all aspects, was a subject he knew less about than he did about opera.

However, Luna’s description of all-encompassing emotions sounded terrifyingly accurate, and something he wasn’t sure he wanted to think much about. He’d seen enough in the army of what losing a loved one did to people, and the thought of experiencing anything close to the grief he’d witnessed was incredibly daunting. Even so, there was a part of him that suspected it was already too late for him– he’d nearly lost Atrius once, and Cate now too, making him viscerally aware of what that meant.

"I don't know," Bailey admitted, voice stilted. He simply couldn't wrap his head around something so overwhelming. And incomprehensible. And whatever word best conveyed what the fuck. For a wild moment, he regretted the fact that he hadn’t simply gotten his heart broken as a teenager, so at least he’d have something to compare this to. “I just want him to be happy,” Bailey said, unable to find a better expression of his feelings. It sounded stupidly simple, which him question if he and Luna were talking about the same things at all.

Atrius wasn’t expecting much for his birthday this year, assuming that everyone would still be too busy dealing with the aftermath of the bomb to bother with something as silly as celebrating the day that he was born twenty-nine years ago. Not even Atrius had the energy to worry about it this year, so exhausted from running around trying to help look after everyone that he genuinely just wanted to take a long nap and forget that he was almost through with his twenties.

He drug himself upstairs to Bailey’s flat, getting his second wind as he heard Toast barking on the other side of the door. He used his new key to let himself in, too overwhelmed with the enthusiasm of Toast to be bummed about the fact that Bailey didn’t even appear to be home. Exclaiming over the dog and leaning down to pet him, it took Atrius a few minutes before he even noticed the new pieces of furniture in the room. His heart skipped a beat as he approached the desk, hesitant to believe that it was for him until he saw what the balloon was tied to. He reached to pick them up, falling to sit in the new chair as he examined the dog tags. Toast was quick to climb into his lap, effectively crushing Atrius as he tried to take in Bailey’s gifts. He was in awe- and for more reasons than just being impressed with the fact that Bailey managed to carry that desk all the way up the stairs by himself. 

Overwhelmed by gratitude and affection, Atrius eventually settled on making the three of them a meal. He put the dog tags around his neck and headed for the kitchen, Toast staying close by as he waited for Atrius to drop something. Atrius wasn’t much of a cook but he went back to the thing that he knew how to make well. Grilled cheese had also been the first meal he’d cooked for Bailey the night that they’d first hooked up on, so, bonus points for romantic nostalgia. He had a stack of sandwiches cooked up when he heard the door open, grinning as he looked over and saw Bailey throw it open.

“Hey babe,” He moved the pan from the stove top, dropping it to chase after Toast who was barking at Bailey like he was an intruder into his own home. Atrius laughed and scolded Toast ever so gently, throwing his arms around Bailey’s neck and leaning close to kiss him. “How the hell did you get that thing upstairs by yourself?” He mumbled happily against the other’s lips, always a fan of how tanky strong his boyfriend was.

Bailey lit up like a damn Christmas tree when Atrius came to greet him, ignoring Toast's determined attempts at chasing him back out into the hall. His gaze dropped to his dog tags hanging from the other's neck as Atrius approached, unsurprised to see them there but taken aback by the tidal wave of emotions barreling into him like a freight train. The tags had been the only thing that he'd bothered to keep over the years of being deployed and on the run, and although he didn't wear them anymore, they were the closest he'd ever gotten to owning something of sentimental value. (He wasn’t entirely sure if they fit the same criteria Cate had given him, but it was the best he could do.)

Hooking his finger around the chain, Bailey tugged Atrius closer with a helpless grin. “I had to bribe him with jerky. I tried his leash, but he only listens to you,” he murmured, purposely misunderstanding. In all honesty, the desk hadn't been that hard to carry, even with the weight. Toast had been infinitely more difficult to convince back upstairs after (and during and before) his walk.

“Happy birthday,” Bailey said, winding his arms around Atrius’ waist to Toast’s very vocal protests. He was anxious to ask whether his gifts were acceptable, but was distracted by the way the man fit against him. “Did you party with Luna?” he asked, burying his nose in Atrius’ hair and waddling them towards the kitchen. 

Just as he was about to get into the nitty-gritty details of what went on in the club that the other guy went to, he heard Bailey’s voice hurrying him along. Jeb couldn’t help but roll his eyes, letting out a groan as he looked at him. “There’s, like, a hundred other people in here that were all here before us. Chill out,” he replied, but he was surprised when his order was called only moments after. He reached into his pocket to pull out his wallet, only to realise the inevitable.

“Fuck, bruv!” he cursed, checking all of his other pockets just in case there was a slight chance that he had put it anywhere other than his left pocket - which wouldn’t make sense considering it had always been the chosen place for his money. The guy he had just met shook his head, and over the noise he offered his own card. Jeb nodded, grinning from ear to ear. “Thanks, bruv,” he told the man, who smiled back at him and Jeb lifted his things before leading Bailey back out towards the street.

“See? That’s why you go to McDonalds at this time. I could’ve just lied and said that I’d lost my wallet and someone would’ve came through for me,” he smirked.

Only a fraction of Bailey’s focus remained on the kid, most of his attention dedicated to glowering at the droves of teenagers that milled around him. There was a small crowd of girls eyeing Jeb with interest– interest that Bailey eliminated with a practiced stare he’d learned from his drill sergeant twenty years ago. While he normally had a bottomless pit of patience when it came to people he knew (and begrudgingly liked), hordes of drunken children unfortunately didn’t make the cut.

“I’m happy for you,” Bailey said, not sounding happy at all. He glanced down at Jeb, sober enough to realize that losing one’s wallet wasn’t a good thing, but too drunk to particularly care. “Now time for bed,” he added in a faintly hopeful tone, dragging Jeb none too gently in the direction of the kid’s house. He was operating under the assumption that his dog was completely forgotten about, not feeling too eager about wrestling a beast larger and angrier than his companion.

Waiting turned into several hours working until the windows were black, having spent the time making sure that Atrius could never stumble upon another box of weapons again. To be fair, it was easy to lose track of the day when he was sequestered in a single room with a steady stream of alcohol. So by the time he made it back upstairs, he wasn’t surprised to see the sliver of light under the door, throwing it open with a more energy than he had when he thought it’d be just him and Toast.

With a nod Nat was already working, though her eyes remained on the man in front of her. “You sir, look like shit.” She said, no malice behind the words. “Yeah, I think four is a good idea. Maybe something special for the fourth to try and wipe that grimace off your face?” Gliding behind the bar, Natalia looked like an apostle of Dionysus, doling out friendly words and friendly drinks to whoever asked, and whoever she thought would tip well. 

Bailey had been maintaining a fairly steady buzz since that morning, so her words did little to affect him. Raising his brows at the offer, he accepted his glass with a humorless smile and drained half its contents in a gulp. “Pretty sure it’ll take more than four,” he said, lowering the whiskey. “Unless whatever you make is really special.” He tipped his head back to finish his drink and slid over the glass. “I’ll take my next three together.”

Cate’s bewildered expression shifted into a pleased one as soon as Bailey relented, ignoring the uncertainty in his voice with practised aplomb; not that the brunette particularly saw herself as someone with selective perception, but perhaps Jackie was rubbing off on her. “Why would I mess with the motor?” she questioned innocently, thinking about it for a second before quickly amending her enquiry. “Okay, scratch why—how would I mess with the motor? What kind of MacGyver-esque character do you think I am? Honestly, Bailey, I don’t know where you get these ideas from…”

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Cate was well aware of the fact that she had an uncanny knack for getting what she wanted; whether it was because she learned how to do it herself, or because she successfully convinced someone else to do it for her.

As her teasing words trailed off, she took a deep breath and glanced down at her hands, looking up at him with a slightly more serious expression on her face. “I just want to be able to go see my friends,” she explained earnestly, shrugging slightly. “That’s all.”

Bailey couldn’t say that he wasn’t relieved with Cate’s answer, though he also wasn’t sure if she was lying. He’d find out soon enough, he supposed, making a mental note to teach her if it turned out that she was telling the truth. It was years of delinquency, rather than the army, that had taught him to manipulate anything with a motor or an engine. (Though he wouldn’t dare bring it up until after she healed, wary of how quickly she could pick things up and how awry things could go once Cate had the means.)

“I’ll bring you one tomorrow,” Bailey said, softening at her expression. Cate had always looked young to him, but she looked particularly small now, engulfed by tubes and sterile whites. “I promised Luna I’d knock over the pharmacy. Stealing you a chair should be nothing.”

Atrius grinned back at Bailey, a surge of affection coursing through him in response to the other’s words. Home. It sounded like everything he dreamed of, struggling to believe that Bailey Rose had really just asked him to move in and make a home with him. “Thanks.” He beamed, the backed up desire to profess his feelings for Bailey jamming up in his throat. He laughed around the lump as Toast butted in, wrapping his arms around the dog and leaning down to kiss his head. “You guys are the best.” He murmured, desperately trying to keep his already vulnerable emotions in check. “Can we get a bed frame too? We gotta go shopping.” He decided happily, scruffing Toast’s behind the ears. 

Bailey spluttered and leaned back to accommodate the dog, gently pushing Toast’s tail away from slapping him furiously in the face. “Sure. There’s room for furniture.” There was quite a bit of room, considering he barely owned the essentials. He didn’t necessarily dislike clutter, he simply didn’t create any and never found a need for anything aside from four walls and a roof.

Jeb’s eyes lit up further. “Beo is big and brown,” he commented, grinning at his friend, “See? They were meant to have a play date.” He wondered if Bailey had coincidentally got the same type of dog as he did. His mind was about to wander off to another thought that was completely unrelated to the last before Bailey started pushing him towards the fast food restaurant, and he pushed the doors open before stepping inside.

If Bailey thought that he would settle for a Happy Meal he was far mistaken. He was going to order 24 McNuggets along with a large chip and a large Coke. Of course, being a late night in the centre of London, the restaurant was packed with people around Jeb’s age, all of them around the same amount of drunkenness as himself. So, he walked confidently up to the counter that was being used to take orders before ordering his, turning around and realising he’d lost Bailey in the chaos. Confused for a moment, Jeb shrugged, turning to the guy next to him, about to strike up a random conversation about their night.

Bailey didn’t like teenagers. He hadn’t liked teenagers as a teenager, so to be surrounded by a sea of them at various levels of intoxication was a nightmare. His only saving grace was the fact that he was plastered right along with them, which probably explained why he lost Jeb within seconds of entering the restaurant. For a handful of moments, he seriously considered leaving, before he caught sight of a familiar tuft of hair by the counter. It took little effort from there to bulldoze through the crowd, reaching Jeb within seconds and pissing off a pair of fifteen year-olds in the process.

“Get your food. Let’s go,” Bailey growled, staring down a group of boys that veered too close.