Hal bent down as the little girl approached him. Even then, he still managed to tower over her with how small she was.
"Hey there little lady," he said. "Anything I can help you with this fine evening?"
The little girl looked at him anxiously, fiddling with her hands. Ok so not a nervous fan. Hal immediately switched to serious mode, scanning the crowd for anyone who could be her parents. He didn't see anyone running up to the two of them or even so much as keeping a watchful eye from a distance.
"Is something the matter?" Hal questioned, making sure to keep his voice even and calm.
The girl continued fidgeting, her big blue eyes scanning from side to side. Finally she spoke. "You wiff da space po-eece yes? Not da am-ear-ree-ca one?"
Hal smiled at the girl. "Yes, I'm with the space police." Honestly that was oversimplifying the Corps a little but he had long since gotten to citizens calling him a space cop.
The girl offered up a small nervous smile of her own. "So you won't tell da gov-ment what I tell you wight?"
Hal was on high alert now. Just what was this little girl trying to tell him? "I won't tell. I promise," he said after a second.
The girl broke into a big smile at this. "Really? Dis way den." She started tugging Hal along and he began to follow.
"Where exactly are we going?" he asked.
"You see," was all she replied.
Hal was led down a couple different alleyways and was beginning to think he was walking into a trap when they reached an abandoned building. The girl dashed in and up the old rusted stairs, with Hal following closely behind her.
If this really is a trap, I'll never hear the end of it from Batman, he thought morbidly as he cleared the last step. Instead of finding himself facing an ambush however, he saw a boy curled up on an old mattress. The girl was already by his side as Hal approached.
"Don wowee Danny, I got help. Like I said I would," he caught the little girl whispering as he knelt down next to the boy. He had to have been older than the girl. Three years older maybe? Yet he was still so small. Hal took sight of his condition. He was in pain. That much was certain by his little face scrunched up in agony and his quiet moans. He was also sweating profusely. His raven black hair sticking to his forehead. Fever maybe?
Hal continued his observations as he scanned down the boy's body until he got to his stomach. The boy was clutching it and Hal could make out blood bleeding through from underneath. Oh no.
He quickly yet carefully removed the boy's arm to get a better look at the wound. The kid let out a groan as his arm was peeled away. Hal couldn't help but thank Oa for all his training that helped prevent him from letting out a gasp.
The boy's chest was covered in blood. Dark red mixed with flecks of green soaked through his shirt and there were bandages that had been amateurishly tied around the wound.
"How did this happen?" Hal asked, turning back to the girl. He did his best to keep his tone as gentle as possible.
Her smile was gone now, and her eyes welled up with tears. "He pwotected me," she said. "Dey wanted to huwrt us. Dey shot at us. Danny pwotected me."
Anger boiled within Hal. Who would shoot at these children? They were only little kids. If what the girl had said earlier was anything to go off of, the answer had something to do with the government. He would have to take care of that later though. For now, this boy needed medical attention.
"Let's get Danny to a hospital," Hal said resolutely, as he got up.
"No!" the little girl screeched. "No has-pee-tail. Too dan-er-us!"
"But he needs-" Hal started but then he met the girl's eyes. There was abject fear in them. As if going to the hospital would be a death sentence for both children. Where else were they supposed to go though? The boy- Danny needed medical attention stat. That much was certain.
Hal paused. There was one place. He sighed. Batman was going to kill him for this.
"Okay okay. No hospital. But what about space?"
"Space?" the girl repeated.
Hal nodded.
The little girl smiled. "Danny lobes space!"
"Well then. That's perfect."
Hal constructed a new bed for the boy, carefully easing him onto it before putting a protective dome around both children. The little girl giggled as he lifted them up. He then turned to the wall where he created a giant hammer to knock it down. Then they were off. Flying higher and higher, towards the atmosphere. As the Watchtower got closer in sight, Hal couldn't help but groan. Taking civilians to the Watchtower? Oh yeah, Batman was definitely going to kill him.
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His breakup with Marisol is about as unremarkable as the rest of their relationship. There's no catastrophic muffin mess in his kitchen or divorce papers. Just a quiet I don't think this is working out, I'm sorry. Marisol hadn't even cried. She'd just nodded like she'd been waiting for it and left, didn't even need to grab anything from the house before she went and really that just reassured Eddie that this was the right choice.
So, his breakup with Marisol is unremarkable, except that it's not. It's pretty fucking remarkable when he thinks about it because it's not just that they weren't working out, not just that he really didn't care about spending time with her, not just the clench in his gut every time she touched him. No. It's pretty fucking remarkable because he realises he's in love with his best friend.
That's what pushes him over the edge, gives him the last kick he needs to actually break things off with her. Because Eddie may have sworn himself to secrecy about it the moment he realised, but he could never string someone along just because he couldn't have the real someone he wanted.
It's a fucking revelation once he has it. Not a ton of bricks, but the sun peeking out from behind the clouds on the greyest of days, bright and blinding. And the way Eddie has always thought of Buck in terms of sunshine maybe should have tipped him off sooner, but with the way Buck has been beaming over the past few weeks. Well. Eddie doesn't really think he can be blamed for only just taking his sunglasses off and daring to look directly at the light.
And, okay, so Eddie maybe makes it a full week before he decides his self-sworn secrecy absolutely is not a viable option when Buck walks through life now like a drop of sunshine in human form. It's after Buck leaves the Diaz house, walking out from a day of giggles and joy at the go-kart track they'd finally managed to convince Chris to be seen with them at, leaving behind a cosy heat like sun-warmed skin, that Eddie realises he cannot go another day without telling Buck that he's desperately, deeply in love with him.
And so, that's how Eddie finds himself at Buck's door on a random Sunday morning, knocking for the first time since Natalia waltzed out of the picture. Buck opens it a few moments later looking perfectly sleep-rumpled and soft and downright golden where he's backlit by the early morning sunlight pooling in the loft.
"Eddie," Buck breathes out, eyes darting up the stairs before refocusing on Eddie and what must be the most hopelessly lovesick expression painted across his face. "H-hey, what are you doing here?"
"I, um." Eddie takes a deep breath, suddenly nervous, and wipes his clammy palms on his jeans. "I wanted to talk to you about something. Now a good time?" And Buck must hear the slightly shaky steel in his voice because the surprise on his face morphs into a concern so quintessentially Buck that Eddie just wants to kiss it away.
"Y-yeah, of course, come on in." Buck holds the door open for him, and Eddie migrates to the fridge as Buck closes the door with the gentlest touch. "So, um, what's up?"
"I..." Eddie swallows against the heart in his throat, loses himself in the shining blue of Buck's eyes like an ocean he'd be more than happy to drown in. "I broke up with Marisol last week."
"Oh, Eddie." Buck slumps, and Eddie tries not to think that it looks a little like relief. "I'm so sorry, man. That sucks."
"No, no." Eddie waves him off with a laugh. "It's good. Was a long time coming actually." He shakes his head at himself. "I think I was dating her just to tick a box, you know? Realised you probably shouldn't be more excited about a phone call from your new buddy than one from your kinda long-term girlfriend. You definitely shouldn't be relieved when you see your best friend in the restaurant you're taking her to and disappointed when you realise he's just leaving."
And then, Buck blushes, ducks his head, does that little smile that could light up every house on South Bedford Street just like Eddie had been hoping for.
"Yeah." Buck looks up at him from under his lashes. "Probably not."
It bolsters Eddie. Buck's sunshine giving him that one last push he needs.
"There was something else I wanted to say," Eddie starts. And there isn't really any fear in him, knows they'll make it through this no matter what, just an overwhelming sense of peace to come. "I..." A deep breath, gathering all his love and devotion in his lungs so it's ready to pour out on his next inhale and—
A groan from upstairs has the words dying in his throat. A masculine groan. And then:
"Evan?"
"D-down here," Buck calls back.
Eddie can't take his eyes off the loft, stuck there like a car crash he can't look away from as a very shirtless Tommy Kinard appears at the top of the stairs and quickly blanches.
"Shit. Um..." He looks down at Buck in a panic.
Eddie finally manages to drag his eyes away from the very chiselled curveball that just hit him at a hundred miles per hour and finds Buck's face. Small, scared, shaken. He knows the feeling. And because he loves Buck, because of just how deeply he loves Buck, it's the easiest thing in the world to lock that love away and let his face crack into the most genuine of grins. Because if Tommy's been the thing making Buck shine like every fucking star in the sky, well Eddie will absolutely not be getting between them.
"You've been so happy," Eddie chokes out, still smiling.
"I have," Buck whispers.
"And I'm so happy for you." Eddie covers the distance between them in three long strides and pulls Buck into a hug so tight and clinging he's sure it's a confession in and of itself, but Buck only buries in deeper, taking shaky little breaths in the crook of Eddie's neck.
"Thank you," Buck murmurs into his skin. Eddie squeezes his eyes shut against the sudden rush of tears.
"Sorry you didn't get to tell me on your own terms," he murmurs back, letting Buck pull away, but lingering with a hand on his hip, on his shoulder. He should maybe be worried about what this could look like to Tommy who had basically never heard anything apart from rambles about Buck, except when he glances up the stairs, Tommy is nowhere to be seen.
"I was going to tell you," Buck rushes out. "I-I just wasn't sure how."
"That's okay," Eddie says. It's okay. It's okay. "Well, I'll stop gate-crashing for the... Second time?" He raises an eyebrow, and Buck flushes a pink Eddie will never ever get to taste. "Yeah, okay. That makes sense." He remembers the pure fear on Buck's face, the indecision on Tommy's and the sudden tightening of his own chest despite his smile. "I'll leave you guys to it." He clears his throat. "Kinard, if you hurt him, they'll never find your body," he shouts up the stairs.
"Copy that, Diaz," Tommy shouts back.
"I'm really proud of you, Buck." Eddie wraps him in another hug then, a quick thing, just one last touch before Eddie seals every desire away for good.
"Thanks, Eddie." Buck walks him to the door, eyes glistening with unshed tears, and Eddie wants to hug him again. Wants so badly it hurts. But if he hugs Buck again, he doesn't think he'll ever let go. "See you at work tomorrow."
"See you at work." Eddie prays Buck is too distracted to hear the wobble in his voice.
"Wait, sorry, what did you want to talk about?"
Eddie freezes on the threshold, the stutter of his heart painful like he's back in a suit store, and he catches himself on the doorframe with a shaking hand.
"It can wait."
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invisible scars (referenced previous talk here)
[ID: A colourless, digital Trigun comic of Vash and Wolfwood talking about Wolfwood's scars. They're both laying in bed and topless. Vash lays on top of Wolfwood, playing with the rosary around his neck. Then, Vash kisses a spot on Wolfwood's chest. Wolfwood asks, "What are you doing?" Vash smiles sadly, "You got shot here. In the last town we visited. You didn't even bother moving."
Vash props himself up over Wolfwood, who frowns slightly. Wolfwood is quiet for a moment before he says, "You remember that, huh?" Vash grabs Wolfwood's left wrist and brings it to his face. "And here." He kisses another spot there. "When you helped free the hostages from that robber..." Wolfwood dismissively says, looking away, "Was a lucky shot." Vash huffs, “Don’t brag. Jeez.”
Half of Wolfwood's expression is shown, eyes returning to Vash who is now sitting up, continuing to say, "And..." Vash goes on and kiss Wolfwood's right palm. "You got cut here, even though that girl was aiming at me." A moment from the past flashes, of Wolfwood grabbing a knife aimed at Vash, his hand bleeding.
At present, Vash moves down and puts another kiss on Wolfwood's right shoulder. "And here, from watching my back." Another memory flashes of Wolfwood and Vash back to back. Vash looks back as Wolfwood grins while holding Punisher, bleeding from multiple gunshots in his shoulder.
"And," Vash combs up Wolfwood's hair to reveal his forehead, "Here." A final memory shows Wolfwood with a regeneration vial in his mouth while getting shot on his temple. The next panel is framed in blood with Vash at the center, eyes wide and stunned in horror. The next panel is a closed up shot of Wolfwood's eye, locked on Vash's face.
Back to present, Vash’s head is bowed down as Wolfwood raises a hand to his nape and says, “Spikey.”
Wolfwood looks serious and frowns as he says, "We talked about this. Those were my decisions. They're not there anymore. Forget about them." Vash looks very sad before he smiles ruefully and says, "I still see them. All the time." He leans down so they touch foreheads. Wolfwood’s sorrowful expression can be seen as Vash says, "You protect so much. I could never forget what you've done to me. And many others..."
In the last image, they're drawn more cartoonishly. Wolfwood sweats and asks, "You don't actually remember every wound, right?" Vash points at a spot on his chest. "Kuroneko left a scratch here 7 times." Wolfwood, startled, says, "Why the hell are you keeping count—" End ID]
Credits for ID here and here
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