humanresource | I'd rather be spitting blood than have this silence fuck me up [Neil]

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I'd rather be spitting blood than have this silence fuck me up [Neil]

The new year had passed and then the first week of it and, just like that, Edgar had been in Darrow a year. He hadn't had much time to dwell on it, what with birds trying to peck the shit out of his hand, but when things got quiet he'd had the time to sit and think on it. One year had passed, one year that he shouldn't have gotten.

He'd felt like a fucking god when he realized. There he was, nothing but a Tail Section hick and he'd practically cheated death. Fucking brilliant.

Then the snow had started falling and Edgar's gut had twisted up nervously. He'd come in with a snow storm and maybe that was the thing that'd take him away too.

Sitting in his apartment, Edgar stared out at the snow falling, a hot cup of coffee in his hands. His shoulders were tense as he kept vigil, determined not to be taken by surprise. He liked Darrow. He didn't want to leave.

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Such a soothing gesture from Neil was a surprise and Edgar let his eyes briefly drift closed, soaking in the impossibility of it. If Darrow was to take him away, Edgar wanted to savor this while he could. "It's been a year. January second, I remember," he said.

And now, that significant date had passed and the snow had fallen properly for the first time all winter. "I came in with a blizzard."

"Yeah? And it'd be stupid for you to go out with one," I said, my thumb tracing the curve of his cheekbone.

"I showed up in March, but it was the night before Christmas Eve, back home. I don't think it fucking matters-- when it takes us, when it tosses us back? It's all random."

"I died on New Year's Day and then I came here," he said. He forced his eyes open, looking up at Neil now and searching into his. Maybe it was just words, just reassurance that Neil was dredging up for show, but Edgar would take it.

"I want to stay here in this city. With Yona and Grantaire and you." Curtis too, though saying his name was still a little raw.

It shouldn't have been difficult to hear it. I knew what had happened to him, and it wasn't like it mattered. You left Darrow and you were as good as dead to everybody left behind, anyway.

Something painful wrenched in my chest. I swallowed thickly. It shouldn't have mattered, but it did.

It was getting too heavy. I didn't know what to say. So, I kissed him instead.

Edgar had seen flashes of that Neil before, so brief and impossible it was easy to question if he hadn't made that up. Now he was certain that he saw it in Neil's eyes and the tight swallow that made his Adam's apple rise. Then, he felt it in that kiss and Edgar leaned in, kissing Neil back, fingers warm in his hair.

I pulled him against me, practically hauling him into my lap, but it didn't even have to do with sex. I wanted to feel the weight of him, his sharp knees and elbows, the warmth of him straddling my lap. I opened up to the kiss. I put things into it that I shouldn't have. I slipped a hand up the back of his shirt, just to splay my fingers out against his ribs, feeling them expand with each breath.

"You're not going anywhere," I said, before I could stop myself. It wasn't a real promise, but even saying it, even wanting it, meant something. Even I couldn't deny that.

"You can't promise that," Edgar said, but his voice was soft, like it was an apology. Carefully, he balanced up on one arm so that he could stroke his hand over Neil's face. The gesture was foreign to them, all care, gentle intimacy but fuck if Edgar didn't need it.

"I'm going to act like you can anyway."

"It's not like you're gonna be around to blame me, if I'm wrong," I said, making a joke out of it, my eyes sliding away from his face once the intimacy of the moment got to be too much.

With a sigh, I settled my hands on his hips and held him close. He was so narrowly belt, almost petite, that I always forgot how strong he was.

Edgar snorted, though a bit halfheartedly. At least there was a joke to be made and he appreciated that Neil did it. He kept the dark shit from getting unbearable.

"What kind of fun is there to have in the snow?" he asked, still skeptical but also interested in a change of subject.

"Fun?" I chuckled, turning to bite at the palm of his hand, more playful than actually trying to hurt him.

"I don't know. I guess you've never built a snowman before. Or had a snowball fight?" I leaned against the couch cushions, letting my head loll against the back. "We used to build snow forts, when I was kid. It's mostly just a pain in the ass, when you get older. Unless you like to ski."

"What the fuck is a snowman?" Edgar didn't bother addressing snowball fights or forts; in his world, snow and fighting had more deadly connotation.

"There was a song that filtered down from the Front to the Tail. Or maybe it was just a fact," Edgar said. "If you leave the train, you all freeze and die."

"A man made out of snow. What the fuck does it sound like?" I laughed and lifted my head to give him a look.

"Yeah? We sang Frosty the Snowman, and Let it Snow, and shit. It's a different world. We used to get snow days, from school. Those were the fucking best. Free vacation days."

"Sounds stupid," Edgar said. He'd recovered enough of himself to be purposefully difficult and smirked at Neil. It sounded as stupid as the songs sounded dreadful.

"Free vacation? Lucky bastards. Back in my day..."

He snorted, too caught up in the irony to even finish the joke.

"Yeah, everything was fucking horrible. I've heard all about it," I said, pinching his hip with a snort of laughter.

"Snow was supposed to be romantic. It gave a bunch of sexually repressed, hetero assholes an excuse to stay inside and grope at each other to keep warm."

Edgar snorted and reached out to nudge at Neil's side with a closed fist. It was an approximation of a punch with none of the violence.

"That sounds like their own goddamn problem, not mine," Edgar said, unimpressed.

Snorting out a laugh, I shoved him off of my lap, throwing my weight forward to pin him down on the cushions.

"Who said it was your problem? You asked what the big deal was about snow, I answered," I pointed out, digging my knuckles into his ribs, checking for ticklish spots.

"I didn't say it was my problem!" Edgar protested. He sucked in a breath and tried to arc out of the way when Neil's fingers brushed a sensitive spot. Not that he could really flatter himself; Edgar knew he'd given himself away when he bit his lip and breathed a bit sharp.

"Oh, shit," I said, like I'd just discovered some sort of secret. Grinning, I prodded at that spot on his side, more gently this time.

He was stronger than me, and could probably throw me off of him if he wanted, but I was counting on him not.

"No!" Edgar yelped, caught around a wheeze of laughter as he pretended distress. "Don't you dare!"

Batting his hands out, Edgar tried to search out Neil's torso and find a place to tease him too.

"Dare what?" I asked, tightening my knees around his middle and hanging on as he squirmed underneath me.

"Ah," I shouted, twisting away from him, when he prodded at a sensitive place below my ribs. We wrestled like that for a few moments, and breathless, I ducked down to seal my mouth over his.

"That," Edgar said. He was halfway to a retaliatory nudge at that spot again when Neil kissed him and Edgar could only sigh. Most days, he still had no fucking clue what he meant to Neil but in this moment, he felt cared for and it was a contenting thought.

Snickering against his lips, I let the kiss linger, one hand framing his jaw and my lips parting against his.

I sat back, finally, with one last playful nip to his bottom lip.

"What happened to my coffee?" I grinned.

"I was having an existential crises. I was busy," Edgar said. With Neil here, it was easier to feel solid, like the city couldn't steal him against his will.

Pretending reluctance, Edgar disentangled himself from the couch and headed over to the kitchen. "Come on then."

"Save your fucking existential crises for when I'm not here," I said, even though it was pretty obvious, from the last few minutes, that I didn't mind.

I crowded up behind him, my arms settling around his waist, and followed him into the kitchen.

"Those things cost a fucking fortune," I said, pointing to the box of little coffee pods he had. "You got any of the special flavors?"

"You interrupted one in progress," Edgar reminded him. He shrugged at the other question, gesturing expansively to a few open boxes that he'd clearly been tasting his way through.

"It's not like I spend money on anything but food and condoms. Or am I supposed to be buying you presents?"

"You should be glad I interrupted it," I muttered, my mouth against his temple, his hair tickling my nose. I herded him against the counter and picked one of the cups from those open boxes. Hazelnut.

"Here, you do it," I said, pressing it into his palm. I chuckled. "You want to buy me shit, I'm not going to stop you. As long as it's not fucking flowers."

Edgar rolled his eyes but it was mostly fond. He closed his hand around the cup and lifted the top of the machine to slot it in. Neil joked but truthfully, Edgar really was still enjoying the novelty of it.

"You know, this is how the future was supposed to be. Put a little package in and suddenly you've got coffee. None of the fucked up shite," he said, watching the coffee flow down.

"Oh yeah?" I laughed, my hand splayed out on the center of his chest, and for once, I let myself enjoy the way he felt wrapped up in my arms, when sex wasn't much of a factor.

"What do you know about the future?"

"I'm from it, asshole," Edgar reminded him, giving Neil a light elbow to his stomach. Truthfully, he had no interest in making him leave, but most of their communication seemed to have based itself in ribbing, taking care never to love too much.

"You're from a metal tube, in the future. That doesn't make your knowledge real comprehensive," I pointed out, jabbing him in the ribs with my thumb, not too far from that ticklish spot I just found.

"Oi!" Edgar wheezed a little, only half-successful in suppressing his laughter. "Fucking rude, you are."

When the cup poured out, Edgar made a gesture like he might just dump the whole thing before passing it back to Neil.

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