anothercontinuity | Red vs Blue Voicetesting Thread

Green flickers in his eye for a moment before the single most striking image settles in, leaving Taylor wide eye'd and a little pale all over again- but not pulling away. He turns into Sam's shoulder to press his face there, swallowing at the memory.

"You put him in the hooks." He still HAS a set of hooks, fuck.

"He deserved it."

More vehement this time as he gazes down at Taylor, eyes narrowing somewhat. "He deserved to know what he inflicted on you. Even he admits it." There's a pause as he gazes down at him, watching the way Taylor turns his head away.

"...you disagree?"

"Eye for an eye." It makes sense and he can rationalize it all the live long day if he needs to but- "No it's not that. I just- Seeing them."

The hooks. The pull of skin, the way he was rigged. "I used to go fishing with my dad and shit and- they're completely different kinds of hooks, you know? After that I couldn't."

Not without remembering.

"Never again."

Both hands lift, clasping against his cheek, smoothing back into his hair and stroking soothingly. "Going through that...what you endured with him...it changed you. But it did not break you."

"Yeah, I know." His mother gave him the same speech all those years ago. He only half believed it then. Worse things have come along and cracked through him. Damn near killed him a few times, torn the ground out from under his feet- it can always be worse.

If there's one thing he can take away from Brandon it's that. It can always be worse and he can put up with more than he'd think possible before bailing.

Taylor loops his arms around Sam's waist, tipping his cheek into his hand. "Seeing them at work though is- it's kind of a shock is all. I'm not glad but I'm not pissed."

Locus appears to consider this for a moment, thoughtful and silent. All the while his fingers trace small, slow circles against Taylor's scalp, a reminder that he's here, with him. He'll be taken care of, always.

"Then what would make you glad?"

"A milkshake and a nap." Offhand and entirely honest, edges of his humor seeping back into his voice and the quirk of his grin. "I am a simple Taylor with simple needs."

And Locus smiles, content with that answer, before nodding and drawing back. "Then let's see what we can find. I make no promises on the milkshake."

If it was better the matter was dropped, then it would be dropped. Still. At least someone here approved of his efforts.

"I honestly just. Don't wanna think about him again. Ever. Not even to take the moral high ground- there's better things I could be doing with my time." Like leaning up to kiss Locus, a proper welcome home. "Honestly? I'm glad your back. It was weird, being on my own again."

"You weren't exactly alone."

He nods vaguely at the space above his shoulder, where Delta sometimes hovers. It's a clear sign of his regard for the AI that he's now taken to thinking of him as an additional person in his own right.

Felix has the same regard, although grudgingly.

"Yeah but I can't lean against Delta when I'm cold and holding my own hand is just fucking weird." Not that it stopped him from doing it- an old habit from when D wanted to experience contact safely and York...just. Missed that kind of connection. He needs that outlet, that space. Too damn social to be a hermit.

"So yeah I had D and D had me but..." He shrugs, turning to kiss Sam's shoulder. "Couldn't do this. Had to sleep alone-"

Which means he tried to sleep and kind of managed. "-Which sucked."

"I hadn't realized."

He knew Taylor tended to get touch starved after a while, but he hadn't been gone long. Were they simply becoming more reliant on each other as time went on? The question tumbled through his head as he returned to stroking his fingers along the back of his head.

"I mean it wasn't terrible or anything." Honesty in advertising even as he lists into Sam's combing fingers. "Vacation spoiled me for having you around is all. I'm adjusting to being back in work mode. I'll settle."

He'll have to. Divide and conquer might be the order of the day in the future and, well. They're both pretty independent people under all the yessir, no sir, three bags full sir mentality. He'll need to settle.

"Things will be different for a time."

They'd have to focus up, that much was true. He wouldn't have it any other way. Charon was still out there and Hargrove still needed to pay his pound of flesh. Especially after what he'd done to him, to Felix.

But there is for a first time a consideration of what might follow, and his lips curve as he tips his head forward, resting his forehead to Taylor's.

"After our mission is complete, who's to say?"

It's the first time Sam's talked about an after. The first time he's even really mentioned it beyond 'this leg of the mission' or 'this part of the job'. It's such a small goddamn thing but Taylor-

Well, one way or the other? He's glad for him. That he's come this far and is looking ahead. Looking past the blood.

"Celebratory return to Casbah, maybe. Or-" Take Sam home. He hasn't BEEN home in years but... "Earth? I haven't been since I shipped out the first time."

This is being really fucking optimistic and he tries to shake it off, focusing instead on having what he's got right now. Sam and a mission and maybe, MAYBE. A milkshake. If he can find the blender.

"Perhaps. I wouldn't be opposed."

Just the idea of an 'after' is something new to entertain, and perhaps it's too optimistic. Too hopeful. Taylor might have to put a bullet through him any day, but they're sitting here dreaming of a life after the fight.

How did that happen? He finds himself staring down at Taylor like doing so might provide an answer, following the curve of his cheek and those deep scars, to the stars now decorating his ribs.

He's content to stand and lean for, well. Ever? Ever. Or till something else needs to happen- he is after all a simple Taylor with simple needs, one of those being physical contact. Having it filled so often has him pretty well floating- energized and upbeat and sleeping well when he crashes. It's a nice upswing.

How long that'll last- well.

Who knows.

"You've got that look." He peers up at Sam, brows lifted. "The 'I am realizing a thing and think I might need to be concerned but don't know if I SHOULD be concerned, Taylor's an adult, maybe he knows' Look. What's up?"

"Thinking about what comes next. The future."

Simple enough for some people, but he'd been so used to living day to day, moment to moment, mission to mission. The thought that he might actually envision a life outside of combat now...

"That wouldn't have been a concern, before you."

Before this. All of this. However they choose to define it at the moment.

"...Well. I can't brofist you for that because-" he said he wouldn't and Sam doesn't fuck around, jarred his hand something fierce the first and last time something like this came up that was worth brofisting over. So instead he leans up on his toes, pressing their lips together.

"I mean-" Delta flares in the back of his mind, York no, York stop, but no. York doesn't stop, York says the thing. "We could do celebratory fisting but that's a whole other animal."

Well. He's not wrong. And he'd certainly enjoyed it at the time.

"Indeed. And I thought you were looking forward to that nap." Locus chuckles, dropping his hand and motioning towards the kitchen area. If they're going to search for that milkshake, may as well get to it.

"Later, perhaps."

How do his less than smooth moments keep working? How. Delta has to assume that it's due to their flawed nature somehow- the lack of polish must make them interesting. Taylor, however, just takes that laugh and turns to head back in the direction of the kitchen. He's pretty sure there's a blender somewhere.

Like.

Fifty percent sure.

They work because they're not smooth. Not planned. They're whatever is on Taylor's mind at the moment, and that honesty is charming, if a little awkward at times. It's one of the things he's come to appreciate greatly in their partnership.

No secrets. Or at least very few, none of which match the magnitude of what he endured during his years with Felix. Something that has the AI grumbling in the back of his head as they walk.

"I don't suppose you know how to make one."

"What, a milkshake?" He peers over his shoulder at Sam, tugging out the blender- ha, hiding behind the coffee maker. "Yeah. It's milk and ice cream and flavoring like. Syrup and shit. Trick is getting the ideal ratio of ice cream to milk."

Too little milk, it's not sippable. Too much and it's runny and ugh. Delta diverts some processing power to sorting out the ratio with the highest ideal probability of being good. "You've never made them before?"

"No. But then I don't have much of a sweet tooth."

Still, if he wants a milkshake, then milkshakes they will have. While Taylor fiddles with the blender, Locus sees to acquiring the milk and ice cream. Funny. He didn't know they had any. Perhaps he picked some up while out getting his tattoo, he reasons.

"Makes sense." Vanilla because why not. York plugs the blender in and rummages around in the fridge to find chocolate syrup. Alone for two days, D getting on him about his weight- so he got some shit he knew would pack on pounds. It's been a few days of terrible eating, but D's pleased.

For.

some reason. "3 scoops of ice cream and D'll give us the ideal amount of milk based on the volume of said scoops."

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