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Okay. So here's a short, entirely unbeta'd, "These Accursed Stars"-brand fic for you that I wrote last night. With love.
Warning tags and story with minor TAS spoilers below:
Warning tags: Rhack, suggestive content, mild nudity, fluff, Zanothy, mild Jackothy maybe? But not really.
By JacksRightHand
~ 1150 words
--
“Okay, Tim Tams. One last stop. Got an ECHO I need you to deliver planet-side in the morning.”
The elevator where they stood emitted a soft ding of sound before its doors spread wide. Timothy followed Jack inside, dutifully waiting until they closed again before removing his helmet to heave a heavy sigh.
Between the loader bot going haywire in R&D and the finger gun fight somehow turned lethal in HR, it had been a day. He was more than ready to shed his work persona and crack a beer. Despite the secluded space of Jack’s elevator, however, Jack immediately admonished him for his premature slip-up with a sharp look, but it was thankfully in good humour, chased by a telltale curl in his lips.
It was only by the grace of Rhys – Handsome Jack’s soulmate – that any of this was feasible. The last few months had marked significant change in their dynamic, to the point that Timothy was finally coming to understand what friendship looked like, something of which he was only afforded a glimpse before the events of Elpis.
The long and stressful work hours of a Handsome Jack double barely even troubled him anymore. Not that he wasn’t excited at the prospect of kicking off early. He only had to collect the cartridge from Jack’s office and–
“Craaap.” Jack shuffled the box he’d been carrying to the crook of his arm and snapped his fingers. “You know what? I left it in the suite.”
Timothy sagged. Of course. “You can have a bot courier it to me?”
“Nah. The contents are too sensitive. C’mon.” He reached forward to punch the elevator controls. “We can pop up there and then you can head out for the day. Don’t want to keep you too late.”
There was a strange curl in his reply that Timothy couldn’t place. He frowned.
While Jack’s general demeanour had shifted considerably with Rhys’ influence, his downright thoughtful moments still caught Timothy off guard. It was difficult to undo the previous two years of conditioning, even with the time that had passed. Luckily, Jack took no notice of his hesitation.
“Right. Sure. Thanks.”
“So.” Jack idly tapped a finger on the box in his right hand. “What’d you get for Flynt?”
A cool shock struck Timothy’s sternum. He scanned his memory – Anniversary? No. Birthday? Just passed. Had he forgotten something, or was Jack fucking with him?
“Uh…for?”
Jack’s look flattened out to meet Tim’s concerned gaze. “It’s the fourteenth, Timbo.”
A long beat passed as Timothy simply stared back, struggling to place Jack’s expectations. All the while, Jack’s expression slipped into something decidedly unimpressed. Alarms were going off in the back of Tim’s head that were no longer familiar.
The fourteenth. The fourteenth?
Oh. Oh. It was a day he’d always worked, but had never actually celebrated. A dragging groan escaped his throat; he dropped his head backward. “Jackentine’s– seriously, Jack?”
Much to Timothy’s relief, he hadn’t been forced to celebrate any of the typical Handsome Jack holidays since Rhys had come around. Well, with the exception of Día del Guapo, but that one was a particular favourite of his – a fact he would take to his grave.
Upon noticing the crease of a glower in Jack’s mask, Timothy immediately straightened, clearing his throat.
“Uh, no. Nothing. Yet. Haven’t had time. I’ll pick up something on, uh, on the way h–”
“Me?” Jack interrupted, turning away. “Yup. I got something pretty nice. He’s going to love it.”
With a roll of his eyes, Tim smirked. “I’m sure.”
“It’s fantastic. See, it’s like, a whole ten inches long. And hefty, I’m telling you. It has some delicious weight to it.”
That smirk faded. He seriously considered retirement. “Uh huh.”
“I had this custom G10 grip made for it,” Jack went on. “The texture feels so friggin’ satisfying in your palm. Seriously. When you get your hand on it, it’s just – holy crap.”
“Right…”
“And the best part of it is that it has these two settings–”
“Jack.” Timothy kneaded the corners of his eyes, unsettling the metal clasps. “Please tell me you’re talking about a gun.”
The conversation lulled very briefly, as Jack deliberated in silence. Timothy nearly thanked the stars when his wrist watch loudly chirped.
“Hey babe,” Jack grinned, activating the call without thought.
“You’re late,” Rhys complained through the watch. “When are you coming home to unwrap your present?”
“I’m on my way now,” he hummed. “Just had to take care of something.”
“Well, hurry up.”
“Ohhh?” Jack grinned. “What’d you get me, kitten?”
“Socks.”
The urge to snicker was difficult to smother. Timothy bit into his lip as the elevator jerked to a halt, and Jack led the way through toward the front doors of their suite.
“Uhhh, okay. There better be something real special about those socks, Rhysie.”
“Oh, there is.”
The call cut out as the doors slid open.
“Happy ‘You’ Day, J–”
Timothy froze. Jack let out a wolf whistle.
Lying stretched out across the couch opposite the foyer was Rhys, wearing the socks – this year’s official Jackentine’s Day merch complete with Handsome Jack’s face splashed all over them – and nothing else.
Thank the gods he was face-down, although his ass was still bared for the pair of them to see.
Jack immediately spun. He strode to a side table against the wall and picked up a pair of SMGs and turned back toward him. Timothy flinched, wholly expecting a bullet or ten to the head.
When he thrust them into his arms, grinning, Timothy blinked.
“Work’s over, Tim Tams,” Jack winked. “Now get lost.”
The double doors slammed shut in his face. He sighed raggedly, juggling the guns in his arms as he returned to the elevator, where his own watch began to go off.
“Number one,” he answered.
“Sure are,” the voice on the other end purred. “Comin’ home soon, Shoulders?”
“Might have to pour bleach in my eyes when I get there, but, yeah. Just leaving Jack’s.”
“Good. Got somethin’ for you to unwrap.”
His groin stirred. Timothy shifted against it. “Oh, just please tell me it’s not socks.”
“No, boyo. It ain’t socks.”
His watch vibrated again. Timothy snorted a laugh over the all-caps apology from Rhys.
“Perfect. See you soon, Zane.”
As the call ended, Timothy lowered his gaze to the weapons he held, a gorgeous set of the latest line of Boardroom submachine guns. The model hadn’t even hit the market yet, practically glistening they were so polished and new. To top it off, a pair of trinkets dangled from each, and his breath snagged upon recognizing one as a mini Zoomer drone, the other a star.
Yet another buzz. He checked, swallowing, to find a message from Jack.
Happy Us Day, Tim.
His heart throbbed. He closed his eyes and smiled.
He'd traveled and fought his way across the galaxy thrice over, loved and lost those loves because of his job or his attitude. Fair, one of those things he could change, but growing up with the family he had? No, it was too hard to trust, too hard to find someone to truly let behind those iron-clad walls that kept him safe, kept him alive.
Timothy Lawrence seemed to have been born as the exception to this unspoken rule.
Zane felt the urge to shoot the poor guy when he came out from his refuge, after he and the other vault hunters had cut a swath into the cursed casino. To see the face of the infamous Handsome Jack after all these years, of the man who had reigned down terror and murder in droves most bandits even dreamed of? Yea, not an instant way to get a gaggle of strangers to like you. Yet his finger went still when Zane took in the cracked mask and the wild eyes, a sharp whistle stilling the murderous intent in the others he considered allies.
"I-It's not what it looks like, I am not Jack!"
The poor boyo was terrified, and the small ache in Zane's chest was the first sign of his inner walls weakening. It went unheeded as he was in the middle of a job, practically grabbing the not-Jack by the scruff of the neck when the sounds of incoming loader bots got them all moving quickly away and out of sight. The first olive branch that got the four vault hunters to give the not-Jack a small token of trust was taking them to his base, a well-defended area that was tucked out of sight and secure with the flick of a wrist. Not-Jack became Timothy when Zane was able to slouch onto the sole couch in the room, kicking his feet up on the coffee table with a slight groan of appreciation.
He was far too feckin' old for this shite.
Yet it wasn't all bad, he supposed. The Crimson Raiders gave him purpose and a home, and his fellow vault hunters gave him allies when he'd fought on his own since he was born, honestly. It was a strange and dangerous existence, but it was the name of the game, and Zane was an expert at it. Timothy vanished after Moze and FL4K had scouted out a secondary plaza area they would need to clear out the following day, returning when the group was cooking a meal with a few cots for the group and some extra food. He didn't ask for anything they were cooking, and for the first night, they didn't offer some of the fresh food FL4K had brought, even if Timothy was trying not to be obvious with his envious stares. Surprisingly, Zane is the one to drop a bowl of stew next to the blueprints Timothy was studying by the third night, the doppelganger looking up with wide eyes.
"Eat up, we don't have much o' this fresh stuff." Timothy looked like he wanted to say something as he slowly reached for the bowl, the operative raising an eyebrow when he just silently snatched the bowl and moved it out of his reach. It didn't remain full for long, Timothy devouring its contents with a soft noise of content at eating something that wasn't from a vending machine for the first time in years. "Good lad."
"...thank you." As much as the lad sounded like Jack, he didn't at the same time. The tremor of vulnerability and the edge of madness lacing each word with wild eyes was a 180 from the suave and calculated voice that Jack had always used with a sneer, making Timothy just that much...smaller.
He nods, and if Zane lies awake that night thinking of how to make the poor guy smile, that is his own damn business.
A week turns into two, then three, then a month as they claw through the casino that never seemed to end. Their heist crew slowly comes together as Timothy had predicted, and the more victories they stacked up, the more it added just a bit more confidence to Timothy. Genuine smiles started to cross his face more and more, the stammering lessening, and he stopped sleeping underneath the grating to keep a barrier between himself and the vault hunters. Zane was often sitting with Timothy whenever they had spare time to rest up after a good fight, catching him up on things or showing off Zoomer and his digi-clone equipment, something the doppelganger had surprising knowledge of.
"I used to fight with something similar, before I failed Him and was reduced to...this place."
By the time the heist comes, Timothy is so nervous he can't stop pacing back and forth as people try to get some sleep. Grumpy himself, Zane rolls off his cot and trudges over to where the poor guy is, grabbing his hand with the intent of saying something. When skin meets skin, however, Timothy froze and stares at his hand, the feeling of real flesh and blood touching him without pain so...alien.
"Boyo? You need yer sleep." Zane frowned when his words seemed to go unheeded, Timothy just staring at their hands. "Tim?"
"You're so warm." The operative grinned and moved, glad he'd chosen to sleep in his undershirt that left his arms bare, slipping it around Timothy's shoulders with a hum. As expected, the touch was almost too much, Timothy sinking into his side as Zane pulled the doppelganger to his bed. He was asleep by the time Zane pushed him down onto the bed, leaving the older man to keep a short vigil in a chair beside the cot before he dozed off for some needed rest.
It's all the rest he gets for a long time after everything falls apart.
Freddie's betrayal shouldn't have been so surprising, but it was Moxxi's cold demeanor and the echoing screams as Timothy was tortured that really got Zane's dandruff up. Pretty Boy was getting desperate the closer the vault hunters got to his tower, throwing more mechs and anything that could slow down the four fighters the closer they got. The moment the power is cut, Pretty Boy lets out an enraged scream as the vault hunters take a breather after their fight against a massive robot, only to hear Timothy screaming in pain moments later.
"I'm going ta kill that bastard!" Zane snarled, the operative wincing when he tested one of his arms, the limb aching in protest after being slammed into a wall.
"We will soon enough, keep your chin up." Moze tossed him a rejuvinator with a sympathetic shake of her head, the former soldier cracking her neck. "We have to recover tonight, it would be suicide to storm that fortress after a fight this nasty."
More screams cut them off, and the vault hunters gave each other uneasy looks as they headed to the closest New-U station.
Just shy of 24 hours later, Pretty Boy lay dying on the ground as Timothy sacrificed his winning hand to save the station and every soul on board. The doppelganger was definitely worse for wear when he was finally able to tumble off of the cage he'd been trapped in, FL4K able to catch him before Timothy hit the floor.
"You guys came...how 'bout that?"
"Course we did boyo, not leavin' a man behind, eh?" Zane jogged across the temporary battlefield with a noticeable limp, FL4K waiting for the operative to join them before setting Timothy against the consoles behind them. Timothy had definitely been put through the wringer, the brush of cool air against his mutilated arm and various cuts from the lasers that had surrounded him sapping what little strength he had to stay upright. Despite his one leg screaming in protest, Zane slipped an arm around Timothy to steady the other, the other sagging against him with a noise of relief.
"You came back for me..." The duo watched as Moxxi rode the elevator down to what had been Pretty Boy's former throne room, strutting toward them with a pleased look on her face.
"Good work boys, you've started a new era for this place." The hostess of more than a few businesses purred, one hand trailing along the side of Timothy's mask. "Glad you didn't give up sweetheart, too pretty of a face to waste."
"Uh...thanks?" Oh man, Timothy just wanted to sit down, forcing a smile as Moxxi stepped away, getting to work and tearing down the last of the station's security. He doesn't realize Zane queued up transport back to Case de Timothy until the bright light catches his attention, legs buckling the moment they rematerialize. The operator kept him up, however, carefully leading Timothy to the closest cot and lowering him on top of it. Timothy blinks, and finds that his laser burns and other injuries from his torture at the hands of Pretty Boy have been bandaged, Zane currently tending to his recently amputated hand. The operator had shed his jacket and placed it around Timothy's shoulders, humming some song he'd never heard of as he placed an antiseptic cream over the cauterized wound, smirking a bit when he noticed the eyes on him.
"How're ya feelin'?" Timothy shrugged, wondering what was making him feel pleasantly numb. "I gave ye some of the good stuff."
"I feel...so good." He yawned, watching experienced fingers bandage up his arm before setting it in a threadbare sling from deep inside the operator's bag. The vault hunter finally seemed satisfied before popping some pain pills from his bag. His own exhaustion was clear as he moved to sit on the cot beside the former body double, the sound of rushing water and humming machinery the only noises for a few moments.
"I can't believe it's finally over." Zane grunted in acknowledgment as he slowly moved, sighing in relief when he was lying down properly for the first time in days.
"It won't be truly over till we disarm your face, but close enough." Zane shrugged, his biological eye opening when he felt Timothy lie against his side. His arm slipped underneath the back of Timothy's head before he could register the thought, and the shorter man curled into his embrace with a quiet sigh.
With that, Zane realizes he's finally found someone who can get past those walls he'd thrown up so long ago.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
