#worldclasscoward

"I always feel at home when I'm on Venus." Blaise tells Ricochet, their fingers laced together, leaning back to watch the sunset together. The perfect season for viewing, when the sunset lasts for days and days. That's why he timed the trip this way.

"I mean, I guess in a way I am." But that was another lifetime. One he'd long forgotten, now as a Guardian. But he'd been revived on Venus, and he and Trinket had found his old files in Clovis Bray. Some of them, at least. Enough of them to get a sense of who he'd been. "And in another way I'm not."

Home is back in the Tower with Dallas, as much as he wishes it weren't. Not the Dallas part, the Tower part. There's no avoiding that though, his husband will never be able to leave that damn Wall. Protecting it is his whole life.

But before there's any chance for Ricochet to reply, Trinket appears, hovering just above the two of them. "Blaise." He's hesitant but there's an obvious urgency that the Warlock picks up on. It isn't at all how his Ghost would normally address him. "A transmission from Dallas."

The grip on Ricochet's hand loosens and he leans forward, gaze locked on Trinket. "Play it."

Only a short pause before Trinket begins playing the message, Dallas' voice even more serious than it normally is. "Blaise --- Do not come home until I contact you again. The city is compromised."

Compromised?

"I want you to stay safe on Venus. I need to know that you're safe while---" An explosion in the background, muffled and far away. Blaise feels his throat get tight, his heart racing. "-- while we deal with this. Okay?" Static. A small pause. "I love you." Blaise waits for more, but there is no more. He wants there to be more, though he doesn't know why. What more would there before for him to say? That it's a joke? Dallas would never joke like that.

"That's all." Trinket says. "I can't seem to get through on any of the comms. I keep checking but. Nothing. I'm not able to send anything back."

Dallas. The City. Compromised. The comms are dead. He doesn't know how to react, his entire body frozen in disbelief. This can't be right, he just talked to Dallas a few hours ago. Just like he always did, right before he started his daily shift at the Wall. "K-keep trying." His voice shakes, what if something happens to Dallas? What if something already happened to Dallas??

Trinket only beeps in confirmation.

It was all so familiar. The sun setting in the distance, painting the clouds and snow with gentle pastel colors. The tinge of warmth that lingered from it, fighting with the cold chills as night began to come. The feeling of Dev beside him, right where he was supposed to be, his light gentle and familiar and ultimately comforting.

Ricochet felt Dev's fingers touch his own gently, and he shifted so that his hand could turn over, their fingers twisting together. Dev gave his hand a gentle squeeze and Ricochet's chest bubbled with a strange air of happiness, his mouth pulling up in a small smile.

He moved, then, pressing his face against Dev's shoulder, a mumbled word. "Dude..." Was all it said, but really, nothing else needed to be said. Letting his eyes dim, they were silent for a long, long moment. The sun slipped under the horizon almost completely, the sky growing darker in it's shades before Ricochet spoke again.

So much has changed since he’s last seen Ricochet. In the beginning, he tried to block out thoughts of him, ignoring the absolute mess that he’d created. Planning on never seeing is ex-lover again. Leave him alone, letting him live peacefully without ever having to see his disgraced face. When things started to develop with Dallas, he’d hoped that his old feelings would subside, be replaced with new ones. Soon Ricochet would be nothing more than a person he used to know. A distant memory.

Except it didn’t happen that way.

As much as he wanted to forget, to pretend he hated him and that he’d been the one to force his hand, he couldn’t. Especially during his trip to Mars, finding his Clovis Bray files.. the truth about everything in his previous life.. He knew he couldn’t leave that relationship where it had ended. He’d messed up bad, and nothing was Ricochet’s fault. It was all him.

He’s so nervous, arms crossed to hide how bad his hands are shaking. It’s been months since he’s last seen the Hunter, and a few weeks since he’s had his reset. Blaise-2. The added number is weird, he doesn’t feel like it fits. But that’s what exos do, he knows, the number giving him a false sense of a fresh start. His head is clear again, though that’s about it. His memories came back to him after a few days, and ultimately he knows that it will happen again. Probably when his mind gets too clouded, toxic and poisoned, overwhelmed with too many thoughts. It’s cheating the system, but it worked.

Blaise glances around the corner, not seeing Ricochet anywhere among the crowd at the Tower. It was the only place he’d agree to meet with Blaise, and he’s not really surprised at all. A public space, probably not wanting to take the risk of being alone with him again. Could he blame him though? Their last meeting ended with his hands around the Hunter’s neck, choking him, losing control—

No, stop. Don’t think about it. A shiver runs down his spine at the thought.

But the Warlock is different now. Better. Or, he’s trying to be. Can’t actually fix himself, but he can’t ever get that bad again. He won’t let it happen.

Send a symbol for my muse’s reaction to yours… [ Accepting ]>> ◕ - Leaving a hickey on their neck (or specify another body part).

     How he ended up tangled in another Hunter’s arms, Si may never know. Alcohol might have had a hand in it, as did loneliness. Traveling through the more isolated places in their solar system often left one yearning for the sweet embrace of another. Many nights were spent huddled next to a fire alone with only his thoughts to keep him company. Sure his Ghost was always there but sometimes that wasn’t enough.

     For the Exo presently wrapped around his waist, he couldn’t care less why they were here and what they wanted from him. So far their interactions had been comedic and friendly. He didn’t mind the offer of drinks and their inebriated stumble back to his rarely used bedroom. The modestly decorated living space didn’t look much different than one that had yet to be assigned to a newly arrived Guardian.

     With his back against the door and his arms around Ricochet’s shoulders, he surrendered himself to their embrace. Lips pressed to the synthetic flesh of his neck sent a shiver down his spine as they purposefully formed a hickey. On an Exo, it might not be as noticeable to others. He’d likely regret this impulsive behavior but right now nothing could tear them away from one another.

Blaise had been taunting him. Teasing him. Driving him crazy.

Which, of course, wasn’t that hard to do. Especially considering their past, and their messy break-up, and the lingering feelings, and the waves of regret, and, you know, all those other complicated things.

“Come on Ricochet, you know you want to.” Blaise says then as Ricochet tries to pull away from him, to get away from the situation before he does something that only makes it more complicated. Before he can even get a step away, though, Blaise is grabbing his arm, pulling him back, refusing to let him leave.

There’s something swirling inside of Ricochet’s chest then. He spent so much time missing Blaise, thinking about all the time they spent together. Thinking about how he never stopped loving him.

He wonders if Blaise even knows how much he wants to.

Ricochet’s impulse control is a thin string at best, and in that moment, it just snaps. He whips around towards Blaise and moves towards him, pinning the smaller exo against the wall behind him, hands on either side of Blaise’s body to keep him trapped.

He looks at Blaise’s masked face, unable to see his eyes or his expression through the visor. He wondered quietly if Blaise was just fucking with him. If he was smirking behind that feathered helmet of his.

“Why are you doing this?”Ricochet breathes. They were supposed to be over. But it never fully felt like they were. And Ricochet knew that, secretly, he never would want it to be.

He must just be a glutton for punishment.

As much as Blaise expects Ricochet to stay, knowing self control is one of the Hunter's weaknesses, he doesn't predict the moment he's suddenly pinning him against the wall. The shock only lasts for a second, soon followed by a low, rumbling laugh. Almost sinister in a way. Unsettling. It's far too easy, manipulating the Hunter the way he does.

"Maybe, Ricochet," Carefully and slowly, he reaches up towards Ricochet's helmet, pulling it off when a firm tug. Red eyes reflect off the visor of his Light Beyond Nemesis, not looking away as the Hunter's helmet is discarded onto the ground.