"Do I look stupid?!"

“Please, I-”

He didn’t pull Fury back, pulling himself closer instead. There was a moment of surprise while he realised really how much Fury had grown (he had been gone for so long), but didn’t loosen his grip on him. Once again, being able to feel his body through the fabric made his heart pound like an engine.

“I can’t.”

(Can’t let go, now that it’s back.)

“And I won’t.”

(Won’t let him suffer, not again.)

Sighing deeply, Fury allowed Ted to remain pressed to him for a minute before shedding him off gently, taking his hands by the wrists and letting them drape off his shoulders. As much as he usually loved physical contact, he was too wounded to allow it to come. 

He knew he was crazy for suggesting, but talking at a bar hadn’t exactly worked out. With a groan, he opened his mouth to speak words he was sure to regret.

“Come back to my place. We can talk there.”

Putting his hand in his pocket, he pulled out his wallet. 

“Just let me return to my friends to pay for their drinks. You can wait for me outside, but if you’re gone, I won’t go looking for you.”

(Don't blow it.)

William’s voice, on the other hand, was chipper and slightly too loud. He realized his mistake and lowered his tone a little, not wanting to offend Ted’s ears this early in the morning.

“It’s, um… It’s William! It’s been a while, man! Do you want to get some breakfast or something? Maybe catch up a little?”

"Oh, hey."

William. He hadn't heard from the Badger in months, and Ted had almost forgotten about him (not really - but he liked to use it as a flimsy excuse for not thinking about him and that day at PhoneHom). The thought of meating up with him again was somehow both pleasent and nerve-wracking.

"Sure, man. I mean, shit, it's been, what - almost half a year?"

((for @prankcaller89 ))

William looked down at the phone, still not sure about whether or not he should call. A lot had changed since he’d seen Ted last- he’d adopted a badger, gotten thrown in jail, and even gotten married! But as collaborators–and more importantly, kind of friends–it was his responsibility to maintain contact.

Ted nearly dropped his bag of chips when the phone started crying out for him (He had recently purchased a new one and it was so damn loud). He stared at the electronic like he could somehow tell who was calling by looking at it before finally picking up.

"Hello."

Oh shit.

“No, I didn’t mean you! I was-”

(You were what? Oh please, do explain.)

He ran a hand through his greasy black hair before tugging at it, hard enough for his scalp to sting. The other hand dug it’s nails into his head, as if he was trying to stop his mind from losing itself by physically restraining it.

(Forget your mind - Fury’s the one leaving.)

Ted moved faster than he ever had in a very long time, his legs springing up and launching himself towards the (once again) fleeing man. The hand that was previously torturing his own hair shot out to grab Fury’s wrist.

“I wasn’t telling YOU to… ah, fuck.”

His voice, which had for a short moment returned to its old ‘normal’ tone, fell back into the hoarse growl it had been stuck in for months as the sudden tension in his body left as fast as it came.

Fury froze in place, people pushing past him in order to get to the bar, making unpleasant comments as he refused to move from where he was. Sighing deeply as he felt Ted’s hand on him, he looked up at the ceiling to prevent more tears from falling.

Why did he keep chasing Fury?

What did he have to gain from it, if he was just going to hurt him all over again?

“No, I’m sure you were telling whoever else was at the table with us,” he replied, voice strained. “This is pointless, Ted. Just let me go.”

It wouldn’t be the first time he did, right?

Shutting his eyes tightly, he begged for the earth to swallow him.

“I don’t want to suffer again.”

He didn't pull Fury back, pulling himself closer instead. There was a moment of surprise while he realised really how much Fury had grown (he had been gone for so long), but didn't loosen his grip on him. Once again, being able to feel his body through the fabric made his heart pound like an engine.

"I can't."

(Can't let go, now that it's back.)

"And I won't."

Fury’s laugh sounded… resigned, and that hit harder than straight out anger or sadness. And the tears. Ted didn’t actually see it, but he did see Fury wipe them off. God, why did he always have to make things worse?

Caught up in his own shit, he almost missed what Fury said. Ted wondered if it would have mattered if he did, considering he had no idea how to answer the question.

Why did he come back? Leaving, Ted could attribute to himself being an idiotic coward. He was sickened and afraid, so he ran away. But he had no reason to come back, it seemed. There were no personal items he needed back, no sentimental value in any area, and the people… he didn’t expect to see anyone he previously knew. So why, indeed?

(You’re losing it. You don’t even know yourself anymore.)

“Shut up…”

…Wait. did he just say that out loud?

“What?”

Fury couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. Had Ted just told him to shut up? Never mind that he hadn’t answered the questions; he’d been deliberately rude on top of everything else? Even as he knew Fury was trying his hardest not to cry?

Slamming his hands on the table, he got up, looking Ted in the eyes for an agonizing moment before pulling away, at a loss for words. He knew this had been a terrible idea. 

He knew exactly why he’d gone through with it anyway. He was so stupid. So emotional, even now. Try as he might, he just couldn’t shut that part of him off. 

He hated himself for it above anything else.

“You almost had me, too.”

"No, I didn't mean you! I was-"

(You were what? Oh please, do explain.)

He ran a hand through his greasy black hair before tugging at it, hard enough for his scalp to sting. The other hand dug it's nails into his head, as if he was trying to stop his mind from losing itself by physically restraining it.

(Forget your mind - Fury's the one leaving.)

Ted moved faster than he ever had in a very long time, his legs springing up and launching himself towards the (once again) fleeing man. The hand that was previously torturing his own hair shot out to grab Fury's wrist.

"I wasn't telling YOU to... ah, fuck."

He had hurt him. Maybe not physically, since that night at the club where they desperately lunged at each other’s throats, but in an arguably worse way. It was hard, seeing Fury like this - Without toothy grins or a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

Then the last question made him feel like he was crumbling.

(Would you stay, knowing the dangers? Or will you leave again in an attempt to escape having to face consequences?)

He didn’t notice his hands were shaking until he clenched them into fists, short but rough nails digging into his palm.

Not hearing an answer, Fury let his hands drop to the table, eyes averted from Ted as he figured that this meant he’d leave whenever he pleased, and give no warning. 

He should have expected that. He should have expected the silence, too.

Laughing bitterly as he had before, he pressed his wrist to his eyes to dry the tears that were threatening to spill. He couldn’t even formulate an excuse as to why this upset him, at this point.

“Why did you come back?”

Caught up in his own shit, he almost missed what Fury said. Ted wondered if it would have mattered if he did, considering he had no idea how to answer the question.

Why did he come back? Leaving, Ted could attribute to himself being an idiotic coward. He was sickened and afraid, so he ran away. But he had no reason to come back, it seemed. There were no personal items he needed back, no sentimental value in any area, and the people... he didn't expect to see anyone he previously knew. So why, indeed?

(You're losing it. You don't even know yourself anymore.)

"Shut up..."

‘Two years’. Two words that felt like a punch to the gut. Even with Ted’s horrible social skills, he could still tell Fury was greatly disappointed in him. They both knew he was resourceful, clever, strong. Yet the stupid one of the duo had just…

Despite Ted being the shittiest person ever to show it, Fury had been such a strong and reliable presence for him. He respected him, goddamn, he lo-

(You don’t deserve to use that word anymore.)

“You’re… I would have fallen apart, without you.”

(You did.)

“Fury… you did matter. Still do. A lot. I… I have no excuse for what I did.”

Fury pinched his nose and sighed gently. Ted had practically fallen apart as it was, so why couldn’t he have just stayed with him? He would have protected him… Or he would have tried.

Despite blossoming physically, Fury had suffered greatly mentally. He’d gone into a deep depression for the first year, and had crawled out of it by fighting tooth and nail to get himself back on his feet. He’d gotten back in touch with his dealer, started his business up again, and made a few friends at the clubs he visited.

But the sadness had remained.

“You really don’t. At least you know that. I just can’t believe you’d…”

Shaking his head, he hid his face in his hands.

Then the last question made him feel like he was crumbling.

(Would you stay, knowing the dangers? Or will you leave again in an attempt to escape having to face consequences?)

“There were…

(Files. Plans.)

…things I shouldn’t have gotten into. But I did.”

Ted had liked to think himself as a fighting kind of guy in a ‘fight or flight’ situation. But after everything that had happened, it was almost laughable that he ever thought that way. Throw him in any mildly uncomfortable situation he can’t punch his way out of, and he’ll flee like a rat.

“I didn’t think. I just… reacted.”

(Coward.)

Fury listened intently despite himself. He figured it would be something like that, yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was utterly unimportant. He could have helped Ted with the situation, he knew he could have. He had faced 50B before and been fine, hadn’t he? He’d helped people out of there before, hadn’t he?

So why did Ted not trust him enough to even give him a simple goodbye?

He thought… 

“Two years.”

And he knew Ted would have never approached him had he not stumbled into him, that much later.

Despite Ted being the shittiest person ever to show it, Fury had been such a strong and reliable presence for him. He respected him, goddamn, he lo-

(You don't deserve to use that word anymore.)

"You're... I would have fallen apart, without you."

(You did.)

“I… yes.”

If he focused enough, he could still smell the stench of the sewers, the nausea building up from the pit of his stomach up to his throat, the data he retrieved and then quickly abandoned, the way he abandoned everything…

(You have no excuse.)

He knew.

(You will face the consequences.)

He was.

“So you just left without saying goodbye?”

Fury understood what it was like to look over his shoulder constantly. He knew what it was like to pack all his most precious belongings into a bag out of fear he had to flee the apartment one day. He knew what it was like to take a completely different route home, just in case.

But he knew that he’d always have found a way to contact his loved ones, to tell them he was safe- or at the very least, alive.

“That’s wonderful.”

He knew he was being harsh, but it had been two years. Ted had abandoned him for two years over some petty organization he joined out of boredom. It made him see red. 

(Files. Plans.)

...things I shouldn't have gotten into. But I did."

Ted had liked to think himself as a fighting kind of guy in a 'fight or flight' situation. But after everything that had happened, it was almost laughable that he ever thought that way. Throw him in any mildly uncomfortable situation he can't punch his way out of, and he'll flee like a rat.

"I didn't think. I just... reacted."

Once seated, Ted nervously fidgeted with the sleeves of his hoodie. Now that they were actually physically close to each other in good lighting, he could tell that Fury (unlike a certain biker) had at least been taking care of himself. He was painfully aware of how unkept he was compared to the man sitting with him.

Fury had maintained his colorful hair, so artistically dyed and divided perfectly, braids flowing down his shoulders-

(Focus.)

“Your hair’s still nice.”

(Goddammit.)

Torn between a ‘thank you’ and a ‘fuck off’, Fury closed his eyes and shrugged, elbows on the table. 

 “I’m not here to talk about my hair.”

Blunt as it was, it was true. Flattery wouldn’t get Ted very far if he didn’t start spitting up his reasons for disappearing soon. Reopening his eyes, the smaller man frowned, lips forming a pout. He didn’t need to say that the man had let himself go. He didn’t need to say he looked worn out, or that Fury was worried about him. It wasn’t the time.

“Tell me why you left. Was it because of them?”

If he focused enough, he could still smell the stench of the sewers, the nausea building up from the pit of his stomach up to his throat, the data he retrieved and then quickly abandoned, the way he abandoned everything...

(You have no excuse.)

He knew.

(You will face the consequences.)

He slowly followed Fury with clumsy footsteps. This part of the city was strangly silent (even though everything seemed loud and bright to him), and Ted didn’t like how it twisted his guts, making him feel like something was going to go horribly wrong. He slowed his breathing, reminding himself to get a goddamn grip.

He had told Fury they needed to talk, but Ted himself wasn’t sure what he was going to say. He figured he could think up something once the time came.

(You just wanted to keep him from leaving.)

The bar was right across the street from the one they’d been in, so Fury didn’t have time to change his mind before he was pushing the doors open and looking for a seat inside. He hoped his friends would understand his abandonment, but yet again, it wasn’t like they’d gone looking for him…

Enough, Fury. They care about you. Don’t doubt them, they might be all you have left.

Sitting down near the back, away from view, he pulled his braids over his shoulder and stared dead ahead, waiting to be joined. He didn’t even order a drink. He didn’t see the point.

Fury had maintained his colorful hair, so artistically dyed and divided perfectly, braids flowing down his shoulders-

(Focus.)

"Your hair's still nice."

Ted was genuinely surprised Fury hadn’t left already.

“Somewhere where we can sit?”

‘Where it isn’t as exposed?’, He almost added. He hadn’t noticed how uncomfortable it was, being out in the open, even if it was a just an empty street.

“What, you wanna go back inside? My friends are in there. They’ll want to see me.”

Grumbling to himself, he slowly pulled away from Ted, wiping his eyes as he began to cross the street. They could just hit another bar. He’d go back later.

“What are you waiting for? Come on.”

He had told Fury they needed to talk, but Ted himself wasn't sure what he was going to say. He figured he could think up something once the time came.

Ted nearly broke into tears as he breathed into Fury’s hair. Fuck, he still smelled the same, after 2 whole years. It hurt to let him break free, but it was better than suffocating him.

The question felt like needles slowly pressing into him, breaking the skin but not drawing blood. It hurt, but he wasn’t stupid enough to think Fury’s pain wasn’t as bad, if not worse.

(Say it won’t happen again. Lie to him.)

“We… need to talk.”

(And pray it’s not too late.)

No shit, he almost said, but he kept quiet. He waited for Ted to keep talking, staying dangerously still, as if moving would mean the man would leave. 

Or trigger some unwanted aggression within him.

Sighing deeply, he thought about his friends inside, and how they could come looking for him at any minute.

“Then talk.”

"Somewhere where we can sit?"

Fury had grown overall taller and the chub on his cheeks were mostly gone, but those red eyes were exactly the same as before - Large, intense, and beautiful. The guy was angry, yes, but Ted felt what was almost a jolt of happiness, being so close to him.

When he was let go, his brain struggled to remind him of the situation they were in. Fury was leaving. He didn’t have the time to think - his body reacted for him, sending both arms towards his old friend

(-You don’t get to call him that anymore.)

sending both arms towards Fury, wrapping them around him to keep the man from escaping. They then pull him back to Ted, who held his breath as he experienced the most physical contact he ever had in years.

“Wait,”

(What is there to say? Forgiveness will not come easy.)

“Don’t… please… I can’t-”

(Maybe it won’t come at all. One must be deserving of it to receive it.)

All too soon, the scenario was repeating itself. That night at the club in which the two had blindly tried to kill each other had resulted in a situation much like this one, except this time, Fury’s wounds were purely internal. Feeling those arms around him made him yelp, and he nearly elbowed Ted before he felt himself be dragged back.

Now, in the biker’s arms, he felt his whole body burn and ache. A sob rose in his throat, but he held it in, biting his lip extra hard as tears began to roll down his cheeks. He felt pathetic. 

Blinking them away, he found the will to speak. 

“You can’t keep doing this.”

If he wanted to be a part of Fury’s life, he couldn’t just walk away from him, especially not for two years.

“I can’t keep doing this.”

Pushing Ted away softly, he tried to break free.

The question felt like needles slowly pressing into him, breaking the skin but not drawing blood. It hurt, but he wasn't stupid enough to think Fury's pain wasn't as bad, if not worse.

(Say it won't happen again. Lie to him.)

"We... need to talk."

The swat and grab weren’t friendly, but they were still contact. This was very real, and Ted could be confident that the Fury in front of him wouldn’t dissolve into the night (although he’d still probably punch him in the face and leave into the night). His hoarse voice continued to serve him - cracking, but not failing.

“I’m sorry.”

It felt like they were having to different conversations. There was so much emotion and so many questions leaving Fury’s lips, but the meager words Ted himself provided were not the kind that would provide a satisfying answer.

“You will be!” Fury barked back instinctively, but as he looked into Ted’s weary eyes, he realized he didn’t want to hurt him. 

He did, on some level, but it was a very immediate and raw level, and he knew if he did hurt the man, he’d feel bad about it forever after. He couldn’t strike the man he loved. He couldn’t assault him without knowing why he’d left, without knowing why he looked so sad.

But at the same time, he didn’t want to know.

Letting go of him slowly, he turned around again, but this time his intentions were to leave. Ted would be fine on his own. He’d been for two years, hadn’t he?

When he was let go, his brain struggled to remind him of the situation they were in. Fury was leaving. He didn't have the time to think - his body reacted for him, sending both arms towards his old friend

(-You don't get to call him that anymore.)

sending both arms towards Fury, wrapping them around him to keep the man from escaping. They then pull him back to Ted, who held his breath as he experienced the most physical contact he ever had in years.

"Wait,"

(What is there to say? Forgiveness will not come easy.)

"Don't... please... I can't-"

Fury was crying, and Ted had no idea what he was supposed to do. He had already been pretty shitty at dealing with people (at least by using words), and the long solitude in the desert hadn’t helped.

He carefully extended a hand towards the turned back, slowly, as if the man in front of him would disappear if he was too hasty. His fingers met fabric and a solid body that radiated heat. It felt as if he had been burned, but he couldn’t pull his hand back.

When he felt a hand on his back, he turned around, swatting Ted’s entire arm away. It echoed their first falling out, he realized, and it made him feel weak.

“Don’t touch me! What gives you the right? After leaving me like that!”

Eyes filled to the brim with tears, he scowled, grabbing Ted by the front of the shirt. He’d changed so much… And not exactly for the better. It wasn’t that he looked ugly, merely unkempt and incredibly unhappy.

And that scar…

"I'm sorry."