you got a second chance

“you don’t have to.” which was always code for yes please, but she could not live with herself if she didn’t offer ash at least a polite means of dipping out and taking a break. if not for the few minutes before he had to see her face to face. she made a note to pull her hair out of the ponytail it was in once she was done cooking, lest the scar on her neck still be visible. 

“i’ll start the caramel.” finally, something familiar for her hands to do, put sticks of butter in a pot and stir gently until they melted. add brown sugar once she had a beautiful bubbling gold. easy, the task immediately took some of the fray from her voice. a focus, how ever slight, towards the good still left in the word. “he put you on tinder?” her own knowledge seemed to be  made up of exactly the same handful of apps and references that tammy shoved on all of them, but she couldn’t recall what exactly it was supposed to do. “it’s for meeting? did you meet anyone nice?”

That's was all he needed to hold the line as long as she pleased, it was probably good that she couldn't hear the way his car was speeding, "eh ride's too boring." An easy excuse as they fell into a subtext of communication, - absolutely, anything and always. "Mm, you always make a really good caramel, you'll need to divulge your secret one day. Is it salt?" Ash hummed, pulling up towards a small grocery store, the route a very familiar one that he knew like the back of his hand. When his own home isn't exactly stocked with the comforts of food and whatnot, it wasn't as easy as packing their spoils for the night from his place, this detour trip happening more than a few times. 

"Oh yeah he did, saying that I'll end up old, sad and alone, and he's doing me a favor," rolling his eyes, he got out of the car, picking up two packs of popcorn, either they'll finish it, or they'll keep it for next time, " - m&ms? - it's for dates I guess, it was really awkward. I think maybe I wasn't the nice one."

"No gray? No, no, no! My eyes! They have seen it! Trust them, my pup pup. They see the truth!” The magnified pupils were drawn exactly opposite to Ash’s, showing them off to him, as if brown irises could show a lying tinge to them upon closer inspection. The swatting of the hands was only a temporary game, one where Miguel thought the objective was to grab onto the hands that wanted him gone before giving a leap back, restoring a sense of personal space to be ruined all over again in due time. “The die-ay will say no?” he asked curiously with a pondering face slapped on him, hand holding to his chin with complete disregard for Ash’s main concern. “Let me see, let me see! I need more eyes!” Another pair of glasses was taken out, this time a black rimmed set that looked remarkably like the other muse’s, but that could not be the case! He found them hiding in a soldier’s pocket, talking to a very, very short blonde girl! They were placed over the lenses that were already balanced on his nose, adding one more layer of fuzz to the mix. “Day-ah! You are here!” he greeted, as if the same man was the organization embodied, attempting to clasp his face but missing, having him clap instead. “Say yes to the sun boy! He is very, very lonely! I never see him smile! I hate it! Where did you take it? Give him the smile and I will give you the Poldark!”

The proximity triggered the flinch in him, too close for comfort whatever truth it may be in his eyes, Ashton didn't care only caring by the screaming in his mind to /get away. He simply had a hand to Miguel's chest and pushed him back an arm's length. The messiness occurring an embarrassment to be involved in. "They need evidence, and you're not giving any." It was as simple as that, yet Ashton wouldn't know if Miguel could comprehend that. Ugh, but he should be known, "so that's where my glasses went, huh?" Unamused, deadpan toned, he wasn't sure what else he was expecting. ..Miguel can keep it. "They are not here." A curt rebuttal interjected between his nonsense as he yanked back his hand and folded his arms. He made himself force a smile that almost seemed painful to execute, giving up almost immediately, "I'll smile if you give us his location."

With an attention span that flattered a gnat, there was no telling what Ashton meant when he mentioned strange things. A receipt! A fruit! Where could it all be from? What did it all mean? That was not for Miguel to know! As the younger muse spoke, leaning away, he chose to follow in. "No die! Much life! All the life!” he agreed, barely a part of the conversation, too preoccupied. His hand was slipping into the pocket that was staring at him, pulling out the glasses that had been tucked inside of it. “These are mine, my pup pup! The report! It cannot write without them! The words! They are coming!” he went on while they were put on, everything blurring in an instant in magnification. “I see, I see.” Miguel’s hands patted his face, feeling for his hair to take the strands individually. “You are turning gray, sun boy! Too much worry. I hate it! We will save the dead artist! No death for him! He will be the living artist when we are done! He will be ours! Our bond! It is in the report. The dee-uh will do the stamp stamp. All the yeses from them!”

"Yes no die for Poldark," god he was getting a headache conversing with Miguel, watching him pull out some glasses that he probably stole from some poor soul. "Sure they are," he muttered unamused. The report couldn't even come until this was settled, so it was practically useless until they find Poldark. Ashton frowned at him and his antics, swatting away the grabby hands. "We literally can't go grey even if I wanted to," growing old and growing grey, what a privilege that would be. "I'm not bonding with him, sorry to burst your bubble, the DIA won't approve of that, now just-- where is he right now?"

“Good thing indeed.” There had been plenty of times during the war that Laurie couldn’t believe how Ash had survived; he’d been a reckless young man, a firecracker, throwing himself into danger at the first opportunity. Inspiring the whole platoon, and inspiring nothing more than anxiety in Laurie. Still, somehow, he survived. In body, at least, even if that bold young man had been left behind. “Somehow bad doesn’t begin to cover it. Though I suppose he’d say the bloody same about me.” A rueful smile, thinking of what they used to have. When it was good, it was like living the dream – but a dream built on a house of cards, one that could crash down all too easily, dropping them back to reality, and took much longer to repair. He snorted at Ash’s answer, exactly the kind of thing he could see him doing. “You were really that desperate to get to space?” It was kind of adorable, the puppy-like determination to achieve his goal, however many times NASA kicked him down. “I suppose they felt guilty turning you away after that,” he grinned: it felt like they’d managed to salvage at least parts of their wartime bond, just like he’d raised that Spitfire from the sea. The familiarity remained, the casual affection, even if they’d both changed. “It would be Canada, wouldn’t it? They’d probably apologise for me dying in the first place, never mind that I’ve been alive longer than they’ve been a country.” Than the USA had been a country, actually, that concept still vaguely uncomfortable when he thought too hard about it. “The latter is more realistic, but you know what? Shoot for the fucking stars.” Gesturing to the stars above him, he offered Ash his hand. “I solemnly swear to raise my standards and not settle for shitty things in life.”

"Oh, that bad, huh?" Some part of him wished it was just flippant drama that he could lend a ear to let Laurie rant about but it obviously seemed more than that, something that truly hurt, something that filled regrets. The smile that seemed to bring so much sadness alongside its fondness. "Hell yeah I was," While it was truthfully a low point of his.. human life, there are much lower ones Ashton would wish to ignore post death, he was still proud of it, huffing as a matter of fact as if why wouldn't he do it, "I camped out and wrote them scientific essays every day. I'll take the pity route any day." Whatever it took, and yet whatever it took just wasn't enough either. "It absolutely would be, I think they'd listen, y'know?" Ashton joked but wondered, knowing the muses come worldwide, how did their muse world run? "From mars to the stars," old Ashton would scoff of realists, which might've been what he's become, but he still mirrored a grin and shook Laurie's hand firmly, "I solemnly swear to raise my standards with Laurie and maybe only drink crappy beer sometimes. Now if only we had something to drink on it."

“i’m okay, really i am, i’m—” there was no way to explain what had happened to her over the phone, more over there was no reason to worry ashton with the trouble she’d found herself in. she would simply keep away from strange art galleries, and strange men, and strange everything. the world never was an oyster, not really. “i just, i’d like a familiar face.” and so often that was enough, to see that there was someone still good. to know that she was not wrong about everything.

“i’m out of popcorn, if you want some. i can melt caramel, i can—”  it was easy to make all sorts of promises for what she might be able to do over the phone. she of new nerve endings and slow movement. but she wanted to try for ash. “there’s no rush.”

She didn't sound terribly okay, but Ash didn't press on, not wanting to do the opposite of making her feel better and he'll find out when he gets to hers. "Okay, say no more, I'm coming over, one familiar face ready for delivery," Ash chuckled, the beep from his car unlocking interjecting. He'd worry all the way over but he'll try not to let that on to Ophelia. 

"Caramel popcorn sounds great, I'll get some popcorn on the way," Ash nodded putting her on the speaker before driving off, into the familiar route he knew too well to Ophelia's. "No rush, I'll pick the best microwave popcorn bag," he promised even if his speed was picking up, 70, 80, dangerous for New York streets. "Do you want me to stay on the line with you for a bit?" He offered, not too keen on letting her go back to being alone, "I could tell you about Tammy trying to put me on tinder recently."

zoe.

Breathe. Text. Breathe again. She just had to stick to that until she was able to calm her nerves. It wasn’t until she got to the third reply with Ash did she realize her hands were trembling, a rush of adrenaline spiking her blood and nerves, unable to control it. She hated that about herself, body a vessel for whatever emotional reaction dictated, helpless to it. Both sets of fingers held to her phone like a lifeline, forgetting when she had let go of Tammy, warmed by his arm as she lifted her head up to see him.

“It… prob should be…” she muttered, missing any defense. “Do you think this is illegal?” she suddenly thought aloud with wider eyes before her breath was forced out, even in all its shakiness, last scrap of it tossed out with a shake of the head. No. Let’s not add on any more worries tonight. “It’s uhm… I guess a friend? I got drunk on him and prob scared him,” she admitted too honestly, filter blown. “He says he knows you. Ash? Ashton? Could you like give him a call after the pics?”

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. She felt a little better, still feeling her veins vibrating inside of her, but focused on Tammy’s voice, listening to him intently. “Oh. Uhm..” Her eyes closed tightly, thinking back to her art history classes, to the books in Laurie’s museum, how he’d know immediately. “The Virtuvian Man.” That was it. “Can… Can I see?” She could probably stomach it better through the glass versus in the flesh, even if it was the same scene looking back at her, at least she could pretend it was out of reach psychologically. “We can trade so you can talk if you want,” she went on, holding out her phone, coral color bleeding through her glitter case in the offering.

“Mhmm, they might misinterpret it, though.” Not that Tammy had any idea what was going on, only that the ouroboros was the same as that from The Revival. Again, there was that dizzying feeling he’d felt talking to Damion, an inkling that he was standing at a threshold, about to take a step into a world he didn’t understand. “We can call them later.” Worrying about the legality of their actions could come later, when he wasn’t pacing a freezing alley in stiletto heels, taking photos of a dead fucking body. When Joan wasn’t trying to lick Poldark’s cold, corpse toes. “Baby, no – oh, Ash!” Instantly, Tammy perked up; if there was anyone they needed in this situation, it was a military agent. “Of course, I can call him.”

Tammy snapped one more picture of the words on Poldark’s chest before returning to Zoe; he felt bad leaving her in the lurch, hand returning to her arm by way of reassurance. “Are you sure you want to look?” He tried to check in with her, making sure she wasn’t going to faint or something: vaguely, he thought he should be less numbed to this kind of thing, but he couldn’t dredge up any deeper emotion than vague disgust. “Alright, um – tell me if it’s too much, okay? You’re not obligated to look.” Handing her his phone, Tammy took hers, flipping through the contacts until he reached Agent Ash, the name bringing a soft smile to his lips.

“Hey, Ash… yeah, I’m alright. We’re both alright, I guess, Zoe’s a bit shaken up…” He glanced back to the body to give him a better description. “It’s Poldark. Dead, for the record, and not cleanly. I think someone wants to send a message.” Muting the phone for a moment, he turned back to Zoe. “Ash is on his way. We just have to wait.”

When he gave the drunk lady his number out of worry for her safety that night when she insisted on going home alone, Ashton didn't expect to get a text back days long later about a completely different thing altogether. Zoe being completely vague and ominous did not help with what he should be preparing, what he should bring, who he should prepare to call. In the end he safely tucked a handgun and a butterfly knife, just in case, he couldn't see himself needing anything more should there be any threats.

He was already in the car when he received the call from Zoe, only for Tammy's voice to ring through, "hey, just stay there and stay safe, I'm on my way. 3 minutes. Is it muse related?" His car was turning closer, their location dropped off in an alleyway, he'd parked slightly further out and jog the rest of the distance, scope out their surroundings. "Oh- so the real Poldark that pretended to be dead but wasn't dead is now actually dead?" Ashton sighed, a light tone to his confusing words as the gas pedal was pressed. "Thanks for telling me, Zoe wouldn't say anything, don't touch the body, and make sure no one is watching you." His instructions were to the point, counting down the seconds before his GPS finally inched towards the point. 

Ashton got out of his car, immediately blues surveying the close vicinity, no one was around, which was good, concealing back his gun in his bomber jacket. "Hey, no one's close by, we got some time," he bent down the look at the body, completely unfazed by any of it, tone clinical, emotionless, quick to cover everything, "how did you guys find him, did you call the police, and do we know this is the real Poldark?" He put on some gloves, memorizing it's position before starting to examine the body, "I may have to call it in.. depending on who did this," to a trained eye, it feels really on the nose, “and I might know who.”

A pitiful moan slid from Tammy’s lips as Ash set him down; despite asking Ash for the painkillers, he was still desperate for the physical comfort, curling in on himself until Ash returned. “Thanks,” he murmured, knocking back the pills without a second thought – it was a practised movement, a way to make sure he could go from client to client, handling whatever they threw at him. Sliding back into Ash’s lap, he buried his face in the other man’s chest, snuggling into it. “Mmm, you should absolutely come over to the dark side. I bet they’d pay you more.” Tammy barely knew anything about the DIA, but he didn’t trust them. Not when he saw hints of what they’d done to Ash – if it wouldn’t mean they’d probably never see each other again, he’d try to persuade Ash to leave. If they’d let him. “I know, I know. It’s just – it’s a bit of hope.” Before becoming a muse, it had just been a matter of saving enough money; now it was about finding a way to make the surgery permanent.

“I doubt it.” Tammy glanced up to give Ash a tired grin. “No-one’s a complete saint.” He was sure Ash must have a few skeletons in his closet, but he was too tired to probe, only give a small, hesitant laugh. “Because all Scottish people have ginger hair, of course.” A yawn shuddered through him as he pulled another blanket from the mounting pile around his shoulders; even that small movement intensified the dull ache where his stomach had been. “You could. One day, at least. The DIA won’t last forever. You will.” We will: that concept was still dizzying to him, just like what Ash was saying. The words were supposed to be comforting, but they just tore a bitter, pained laugh from Tammy. “Anyone who thinks I’m not beautiful like this is right. Don’t kid yourself.” It came out short and sharp, a reminder that he couldn’t kid himself either. 

"Let me know if it still hurts later," he mumbled, holding out the glass of water for Tammy as the pills were swallowed quickly. He initially felt awkward with the physical closeness, an instinctive reaction grown from within, but he softened into the hold, hoping to at least comfort Tammy. "Six digits?" He joked, not that the DIA was actually paying him anything at all, simply paying for him. They'd pay Tammy for his intel, sure, but they didn't have to pay him. "We're gonna figure it out, okay?" Ashton promised, trying to make sure he kept to it. While it wasn't necessarily his immediate priority, it should be one of them, plus the DIA would snap at the chance to further study in that realm of muses transitioning. 

"I'm hurt, I can't believe you doubt me," of course he wasn't, but he committed to the joke, "they statistically have the highest probability and percentage, that's something, plus I'd kill at the Scottish accent." His Minnesotan one close in the certain ways to learn it easily. He didn't like to swallow the idea that he'd last forever. And neither could he see the DIA going anywhere. "I'm not sure when that would be, I'd have too much to catch up by then," he knew the world would've moved on without him, they already have. "Really? Then I'd much rather be wrong then," unprecedented for a man of science, but this was absolutely debatable. As platonic as whatever they had was, a blind man could see how beautiful he was even at his absolute worst.

Ash had a point; the army was particularly good at breaking its toys, or moving on to newer, shinier ones. He was lucky he was unbreakable, the latest model in what had been, until the discovery of muses, generals’ wet dreams of super soldiers. “Your luck’ll run out one day, you know.” It wasn’t meant unkindly, a simple, flat fact: Laurie was determined to get his friend out before that day came. “Shit, I don’t know.” Running his free hand through his hair, he sighed. “Taking my ex back, I guess. That’d be pretty fucking low. But I don’t even know where he is these days.” There was a relationship that was best left in the past, one that had ended with blood in the grass. With screaming ringing in his ears, what have you done to me – it almost swallowed him up, Ash’s voice pulling him back to reality. “Hey, it’s no problem.” If anything, that brief pat was a relief, a sign that he had got the measure of their friendship after all. They still knew their way around each other, even with that ocean of time washing away some of the nuance. “D’you think there’s anywhere we could file a complaint? Because I’m pretty sure I’m going to need a bloody hip replacement sometime soon.” Every muse’s body ended up like this, a damaged tool, a testament to their years; their minds tended to disintegrate too, without companions. “What kind? A pact to stay with each other, even when we need Zimmer frames?”

“Guess that would be the end of the road for me,” it was said in such a light-hearted tone with a chain of dead weight behind the smile, “good thing I’m pretty fucking lucky huh?” Somehow he wasn’t even sure how he survived the war, bullet lodged into his left shoulder, stuck trying to mend the wound alone until he got back to base, the nasty scar to prove it that wouldn’t even go away with immortality. He was a pretty fucking lucky bastard, was. At least for a bit. He wasn’t sure what he had now was still considered lucky. “Ooh, that is a low, especially if he was a bad ex,” he wanted to pry further, taking it as a fun exercise, but the look on Laurie’s face didn’t say the same and he left it at that,  thinking about his own low, “my lowest I bet.. was trying to camp out at NASA’s parking lot until they hired me.” He was definitely that brash idiot that knocked on their door with a pillow and blanket, “they rejected me 3 times by that point, rude.” Ash laughed, honestly enjoying the pockets of time he gets to dig back into who he was, who he used to be, even if it meant the moment he leaves here, it all goes away. “Surely somewhere in the world there’s a muse department, Canada maybe,” he wasn’t sure where they all even came about, it but seemed unlikely no one had taking hold of the leading power over the muses, not even the DIA. “I was thinking along the lines of rising our low, low bars together, but you know, I like that too, and I’d rather get a cane, that looks way cooler.” God somehow lying here, it just felt like he was 20 again.

@ryder-ashtonf​

there were some nights that were simply bad. there was no polite name for them, no kind way to describe the beating of her heart in her chest. and with a still healing wound on the back of her neck, making every movement just the bit more of a struggle, she was not so inclined to think positively. stabbed in the middle of an art gallery, by a stranger. to think after all this time the world had not changed so much as to leave her uninjured. she should not have bothered him, but the phone was ringing anyways.

she knew how her voice must have sounded over the speaker, so small and weak, crackling from the bad speaker. “if you’re not too busy, i’d—i would like,” but she was never good at being an imposition, she wanted to be mutually helpful at worst. and this was so much worse. “did you want to come over—watch a movie? you can pick.”

Ashton and Ophelia were bonded by something unexplainable to anyone else outside that hadn't gone through what they had. He understood the bad nights she had, she understood the flashes of pain that haunted him. And that meant the phone wouldn't have to ring more than twice before Ashton picked up her calls. He promised he'd be there for her and he will keep that promise. 

"Ophelia?" Ashton answered, but the moment she spoke, he knew, and he was already out the door and to his car, "yeah of course I can. I’m on my way. Are you okay? Do you want me to bring anything?"

Zoe: I'm not a mom mom!! Cat mom! His name is pablo

Zoe: he's def taking it better than me. I mean we arent hurt hurt.... it's a lot. Idk. I thought maybe youd be better at this than anyone else

Zoe: oh better have a lot of battery too it likes that :/

Ashton: huh. ok i kinda see it.

Ashton: so what's the pi and the sos in the name? nvm it doesn't matter, added you

Ashton: gross, it's already drained 15%, its been barely a hot minute

Ashton: okay i'm omw, i'll be with you in 5, 10 tops. stay put or go to somewhere safe nearby.

Zoe: uhhhhhh coordinates?

Zoe: OH add me on snapchat!

Zoe: don't laugh 😔 I'm pablopicatsosmom

Zoe: Tammy is with me if u know him. Kinda danger??? Like,,,, an 8?

Ashton: i'll.. have to download it.

Ashton: no laughs it's okay, i have no idea what that means

Ashton: Tammy? is he okay? hurt? any immediately danger to you two? do you need me to bring anything, i'm gonna need more information here zo

Zoe: I need you

Zoe: for reasons! Not what you think! We found something

Zoe: Can't say over text but,,,,, rlly need you

Zoe: Also it's zoe!! You spilled wine on me. And wrote your number on my hand ://

Ashton: uh. sorry, who is this?

Ashton: oh. Zoe, yeah, of course, hey there. didn't think you'd save the number.

Ashton: okay, but I do need some information to prepare assistance for you, tell me what you can. are you alone, or in danger by your find

Tammy almost objected, cut off at the last minute by the pain, and the sudden tenderness of Ash rubbing his back. He fell back against him, giving a defeated little nod. “They’re on the counter –” he gestured vaguely, hardly remembering whether he’d already taken any. If he had, they hadn’t helped. “Depends what other services you’ll be providing. Because I’d happily let you crush me between your thighs as well.” It was an easy joke to settle into, a little familiar warmth to take the edge off the pain. “But – they could do it, right?” It was a desperate hope, a fluttering thing that was just asking to be crushed underfoot, but he had to hold onto it. His chrysalis, a promise of recreation.

“That’s ‘cause I’m a natural ginger. We have the satanic vibes to pull it off.” Tammy wondered if Ash had ever tried ginger; he could vaguely picture it, though he’d have to dye his beard as well, so perhaps it was more trouble than it was worth. “Oh, she gets over him. That’s he whole point,” he murmured, “And you know, you’ve got time. You could still go.” If the DIA would let him, of course; the were always hanging over them, an ever-present reminder that Ash wasn’t there of his own accord, no matter how casual it felt. Tammy couldn’t shake the guilt for looking like this, the disgust when he caught sight of himself in a mirror and realised without all that makeup, the dark circles under his eyes were all too obvious. The redness around them as well, from silent tears while pushing through clients, and the bruises one man had left on his neck: he looked like a broken doll, forcing himself to tear his eyes away from the mirror and back to the screen. “I’ll hold you to that, you know. You might want to reconsider the odds.”

The moment the order was given, he was swift, laying Tammy down gently before finding himself into he kitchen, within a second or two back with the aspirin and a glass of water. "There, maybe start with two," Ashton softly nudged, medication sometimes takes a bit more to affect them, double dosages, he learnt that the hard way. Ashton snorted at the crass thought, "wow I'm definitely in the wrong line of work then, sign me up." The irony of having to do some of it anyways for the DIA, whatever they needed him to do. Maybe if all of that pain led to this point, to the fact that on a scientific and medical standpoint they're ready to safely try it out for Tammy after tinkering with muses like Ashton, maybe it's worth it. "I'm gonna be honest Tammy, I don't know," Ashton sighed, "but we can try, and- I promise I'll make sure they don't lay a finger on you on anything else." He was willing to defy the DIA and take the punishment again, if it would keep him safe.

"That's definitely something to be admired about, I for one, am a complete saint," he might look a lil bit Scottish even if he did go ginger, maybe to fit into there if he ever gets shifted to a Edinburgh station, "maybe if I ever get a mission for a Scottish cover." They've trained him like any other regular agent, thousands of international covers to play. "Hmm, I can respect that," Ashton hummed at the presented premise, and as nice as the thought is, to get into Harvard, to get a proper PhD, to go back to working at NASA, to live a normal life again, "you know I can't." Unless there's some huge surge in muses in Harvard. They knew he was smart enough, they didn't need him to get any dumb papers. He noticed the gaze towards the mirror and he tried to gently pull him back, "hey.. it's okay, anyone who tells you you're not beautiful now is a fuckwad." Maybe a movie was just the distraction he needed, and Ash purposely in heels, "mm I love a big risk - game on."

“They only haven’t because you’re useful to them.” Laurie could only imagine what they’d done to him when they first figured out what he was; experiments, testing every limit of how far immortality could stretch. Probably trying to siphon it off, turn it into some kind of commodity – the fact that Ash was still here probably meant they hadn’t succeeded, so they were keen to make use of the one immortal agent they had. “I’d tell you to raise them, but I can’t fucking talk.” He’d offered himself up as a vessel for the military all too many times, but across the Atlantic, and long before they’d refined the methods they probably tried on Ash. “Alright, alright. I guess I’m honour-bound to embrace you, too.” Grinning, he closed the gap to put his arm around Ash, the same casual physical contact that was so common in the army. He gave a snort of a laugh at that comment, stretching a little. “Fuck, yeah. This ‘eternally young’ thing is bullshit, my joints certainly feel their age.” Sure, they all looked dazzling enough, but beneath the glamour of eternity were the scars, the centuries of wear and tear. The regrets. “We’re a sorry fucking sight, aren’t we? But at least we’ve got each other.”

Wasn't that a good thing? That he could still be useful to them, that they still wanted him, that he wasn't deemed useless just yet because he didn't want to think what would come after. New York.. was almost easier than anything they’ve put him through, one year past, two years past, he could work with it, he could maybe live a little. Ashton simply shrugged it off, "better than being useless to them." Who knows what would've happened to Ophelia, if he didn't bargain with them to let her go. A huge defiance to them, he couldn't risk that consequence and punishment on him again. "Oh yeah? What do you think is the lowest bar you'd go?" Ash brought up a fun food for thought, considering they're reputable men of low standards about their lives' situations. "Aww, that's the brother in arms I love, thanks," he patted the hand around his shoulder. While his tone was light, there was still a heaviness of sincere gratitude, he wasn't sure if Laurie could hear it, it was terrifying to know that Laurie had known him for so long, but also comforting. "Oh yeah, whoever created the muses did not think through the bone aching pain in the knees." Ashton laughed, knowing he was definitely much younger to have felt any of it. "Damn straight, much better than being a sorry sight alone," he grinned and turned towards Laurie, "we should make a pact." The brothers in the army did it all the time when everyone's lives were constantly at risk.

Tammy tried to laugh again, but all that came out was another strangled gasp of pain; any kind of movement of his core muscles sent white-hot agony spreading through the hollow. He brushed off the apology, though – thinking about it made it worse, only hammered home the inevitable truth that it was growing back. “I’d happily lick whipped cream off those, you know.” Poking at Ash’s abs, Tammy was beginning to drift off into the the silence. “Oh, am I a challenge now?” Despite the joke, he perked up almost imperceptibly. It was a chance, something to cling to and set his sights on: a second metamorphosis.

“Ginger, of course. I think you’d suit it.” Tammy had been through his own blond phase, an impulsive decision at 3am in Elliot’s bathroom; the memory made him smile softly, even through the twisting agony of his stomach. Most of the times he’d watched Legally Blonde had been with Elliot, and now Ash was being inducted into Tammy’s shitty day ritual. “Neither, actually. He said she was too dumb, so she wanted to prove him wrong. Also he was going to Harvard too?” He couldn’t even remember, the realisation that that’s not good registering somewhere in the part of his mind that was still rational – but that part was drowning in the pain, even as he tried to swim through it to finish his sentence. There was simply nothing left for him to give, when everything had been poured into giving his clients a good show. “Thanks,” he murmured, snuggled into Ash as the opening credits started rolling. “Sorry I’m not more entertaining tonight.”

"Okay, no laughing today," the warning was almost an order, gently requested, as he didn't know what else to do but rub his back over it goes away. "Do you want to take any aspirin or something? Get you any pain killers?" If that could even help at all, but Ashton thought it was worth asking. "Oh wow, really? Maybe I should start charging too, what are the rates on that?" Somehow they both just end up weirdly poking at the abs before he swatted his hand away. "We're all challenges to them," Ashton was their biggest at the time, when the government started really grasping the concept of muses, when they decided they could make their own with him. The only comfort he has if they hear of Tammy's request, that they've changed since the 60s, and they'd be kinder. It's all he could hope. 

"Ha! I could never pull it off like you do, I'd look weird ginger." The most he had dyed for a mission was dark chestnut brown and nothing more. He's supposed to blend in most of the time not stand out. "What a dick," he scoffed, "would've loved to go to Harvard. Sounds like a dumb reason to go to it though, for a boy." At his core he knew he might've made it, if he went completely different paths. Tammy never had to try with them, Ashton swore by his word that these weren't regular client hours, no dressing up, no acting, no kinks, just whatever he wanted it to be, however he was feeling that day. "You never have to be, you don't ever have to try, or give anything at all, not with me." Ashton hammered it home once more, firm with his reminder, "plus you're already entertaining enough yourself. And this movie better be 10/10, if I like it, I’ll wear those heels, five minutes tops."

Laurie hated upsetting his friends, touching raw nerves they usually tried to hide – but the alternative, allowing Ash to continue believing the DIA’s lies? That was worse. “What bits? Because they don’t care for you, or any of us. We’re just assets to them.” Most likely, the DIA were playing the long game. Gathering information before they swept the muses up, or declared them unconstitutional or some other bullshit. “That’s a low fucking bar, you know.” But Laurie’s anger petered out, not wanting to push the topic any further. This place was supposed to be their refuge from all that; he offered a grin, slipping back into playful ribbing. “Even the spaceship toilet seat? You must be feeling bold.” It wasn’t like Laurie didn’t have his own slew of embarrassing stories – he knew if there was any way for Ash to meet his mum, she’d tell him all about catching her son in a hay loft with a travelling pedlar’s son. “They probably would, but you’re right. The world moves too fast for these old bones.” He couldn’t help laughing, realising how much of an old man he sounded; in a way, he was, trapped in a much younger body. Which wasn’t so bad – it kept him going, after all, but it meant he rarely got to take a break. “You wouldn’t have defied your precious DIA, would you? Or they wouldn’t’ve let you. And I didn’t have the fucking balls.” 

"I-" Ashton couldn't find the immediate answers to that, I don't know, he wished he could just shrugged it off like a kid making bold statements based on some skewed manufactured instinct. "They would've long disposed of me." Killed was just a technicality muses couldn't use anymore, but there certainly was a lot of ways they could still be killed. And they pushed him, but never pushed him over the edge of a certain death. They cared enough to not get rid of him after they were done with him, they took him in instead, trained as their own, given an agent ID. "I'm a man of low standards." Ashton joked as if it was the most blatant fact ever. He long lost his rights to having standards. "I am embracing myself for who I am," he proudly proclaimed, but who was he then? Who was he now? Slivers of moments that still floated and reminded from a friend was all he had to hold on to, embarrassing or not. "We're just a couple of old men now, we'll just have to accept it," a sigh was exhaled, dramatics and all, but yet the truth lingered. He shouldn't've even entertained the question, knowing Laurie was right, they'd still be stuck here. "We're just a couple of ball-less old men now," Ashton corrected himself with a chuckle, watching the sky shift slowly.

“Ash, language!” Tammy was too far gone to find anything but hilarity in Ash’s words; he tried to laugh, but all that came out was a pained gasp as the emptiness twinged with agony. It was definitely growing back – suddenly that agony was tinged with panic, if it grew back then he wouldn’t be as beautiful anymore. He’d lose out on all the love he so desperately craved. Part of him wanted to claw the wound open, scrape every last viscera out, but his body was too tired to do anything other than flop back against Ash. “Mmm, feisty,” he murmured, quickly distracted by what he could feel through Ash’s shirt. “And nice abs, by the way. Very firm.” Then the other distraction, the not-quite-promise. “D’you think they’d do these as well?” Tammy vaguely gestured to his chest. “And make it permanent?”

Just those few questions sapped him of energy, slumping back against Ash and burrowing further into his hoodie. “The former, don’t worry. But you could always dye your hair, you know.” Tammy gave Ash a sleepy grin, turning the TV on and flicking through Netflix. “Quick summary, it’s about a ditzy blonde who decides to go to Harvard Law because her boyfriend broke up with her.” He yawned, pressing play on the movie. “I’ve watched it about twenty times, but – sometimes –” Tammy trailed off, losing his train of thought. The pain was just too much, a haze it was impossible to think through. “Nevermind.”

“Sorry, he’s a fucking asshole, please and thank you,” a chuckle rumbled in his throat, but it all dissipated the moment Tammy tried to laugh, murmuring a sincere sorry this time, lightly pulling him in further as if it’d pull him away from the pain. “I was once much fiestier,” he rolled his eyes at the change of pace, “oh yeah, you could wash clothes on these,” poking at the muscles that have been tortured into hardened steel just so he could feel a pain that he had control over. Ashton pondered for awhile, wanting to properly think through his list of contacts, muse doctors that do it for the science and well being, even if some of those names dip into DIA territory. “There might be some research and trials going into it, but I think they’d like a challenge,” Ashton started his whole muse life with scientists and doctors and labs and even under those circumstances, there were some amazing people along the way. “Whatever that can help you feel more like you.”

Ash hummed in disapproval at the suggestion, “nah, I actually look good in blonde. I’m not even sure what other color would work.” He frowned turning his attention to the screen, watching the thousands and thousands of content that figuratively and literally flew by him, he couldn’t recognise any of it, “so.. she had a newfound purpose in law after giving up on love? Or is she trying to sue him for revenge?” It sounded pretty entertaining. “Sometimes?” Ash prompted but he glanced to the pain showing on his face, and let it go, “okay, that’s okay. These few hours are yours more than it is mine.” A reminder, that whatever the DIA is paying for this, it’s Ashton buying in time for Tammy to rest, to do whatever he wanted to do, maybe in a sense, to claim back his own time.