You'll Be Fine
Pairing: Locus/Flowers
Description: Locus went to the bar to forget about Felix. He went in order to forget about what he had done to his partner. To his friend. Now, he's at some guy's house who, apparently, knows a thing or two about losing your partner. He also has a strange fascination with flora, so there's that.
A/N: Um... so this is an odd ship that I've fallen in love with... I'm so fucking sorry, I have no idea why this makes sense, but it does and it's beautiful. Please R&R!
Locus enters the apartment after a lot of coaxing from the older gentlemen. It's not that he's afraid or anything- because Locus believes himself to be above that- it's just that this man is very... strange. Locus can't really understand his angle. First of all, the guy seems convinced that wearing a blue Hawaiian flower shirt to a bar is absolutely normal. Second, he's being far more friendly than anyone Locus has ever met... except maybe that Caboose kid, but he really isn't inclined on thinking about him OR his little band of simulation troopers at the moment. He came here to forget, not to remember everything. Because with memory comes painful, painful regret, and the heart-stopping reminder that Locus may never be redeemed.
He snaps out of it when the flower shirt guy starts humming. Locus knows the tune from somewhere- childhood maybe- but he doesn't put too much effort into remembering which song it is. The guy doesn't tell Locus where to go, preferring, apparently, to walk straight into the kitchen and turn on his radio, turning it to a station that plays nothing but the new age pop songs, written by kids who are just glad that the war is over. If things had gone differently, maybe Locus would have been one of those kids... but that didn't happen. It's far too late to daydream about what could have been. If Locus had really wanted to restart his life, he wouldn't have landed on some random-ass colony planet in butt-fuck nowhere.
"Hey," The flower guy says, and Locus flinches so hard that the stranger's brow furrows with concern for him. "Easy there, fella. You want some water? You've had a lot to drink tonight."
Locus doesn't respond at first, blinking hard as he tries to come to. Speaking sounds unconventional in his mind as he tries to form words, which only results in him looking like some sort of concerned dog. After a moment, the stranger disappears deeper into the kitchen. Locus listens as the stranger takes something out of a cupboard and fills it with water from an unseen sink. Moments later, the stranger returns to stand in front of Locus, holding a plastic cup of water out to him. It has an odd design on it- Locus knows what it's from but he can't place what Disney movie it is quite yet- but Locus isn't about to complain. He takes it wordlessly, sipping at it almost fearfully under the flower guy's watchful eye.
"It's not spiked," The stranger promises, when he notices Locus' very obvious hesitation. "I'm not that sort of person, kid," He seems to be in deep thought, before he brightens, smiling at Locus like the sun has just come up. "I don't believe that you've told me your name, son."
Locus just watches the guy, swallowing down another mouthful of water. He uses the water to keep from talking for a good three minutes, but as expected, the cup soon goes dry. The stranger doesn't leave, not making a move to refill Locus' cup, keeping him there until he says his name. Locus averts his eyes to the plastic cup, finally coming to recognize it's origin. It's from the Disney movie Lilo and Stitch, with the little blue alien surfing with the little girl and her older sister. Locus remembers seeing that movie. He remembers watching it when he was seven years old alongside his older sister. She had cried, but he had kept it together. He does, however, remember crying when she went off to war and didn't come back, but again, Locus isn't here to remember anything just yet.
"I'm..." Locus hesitates, but the guy just keeps smiling, looking so positive, despite the fact that there is a total stranger in his apartment. "My name is... Luke." He eventually admits, unable to meet the stranger's eyes. Can't say Locus; he might've heard of Chorus by now.
Well, actually, everyone knows about Chorus by now. Locus was able to sneak away during the initial rush of young Chorus kids dying to just get off the planet and explore the galaxy. A lot of people stayed put though, willing to put up with the wildlife and terrain, in favor of seeing their hard work pay off. Locus had snuck aboard a colony ship, hiding among the crowd of teenagers and young adults flying off to see the universe for what it had to offer. He's kept up with the news since then, though. Kimball became the president of the colonized continent of Chorus, and is currently working with other groups on the planet to further colonize more of the planet's harsh terrain, and recreate what Chorus was meant to be; their home.
Locus does not, however, really know what happened to the Reds and Blues. He knows that Epsilon died somehow- there was a huge uproar from the press about the simulation trooper's welfare after the initial death- but other than that, the details are sketchy. From what Locus can understand, they're heading back to Blood Gulch, making it very clear to the public that they don't want any celebrations or gifts from the UNSC and the rest of colonized space. They want to be alone to gather themselves, and Locus can relate. That's why he's out here, right? To escape it all, and to maybe, eventually, redeem himself. But Locus knows that that's a far, far off goal. He'll be lucky if he makes any progress within the next five years.
"Luke..." The stranger repeats dreamily, after a long period of tense silence. "What a nice name. I'm Butch, by the way. I'm not sure if I said that earlier or not," He takes the empty cup from Locus, smiling hopefully at the merc. "Take a seat, buddy. Stay awhile. I'll get you some more water."
After that, Butch walks out of the living room again, leaving Locus to look around idly. He blinks a few times, clasping and unclasping his hand in confusion as he tries to remember letting go of the cup. Finally, he shakes his head roughly, forcing his legs to move as he walks around the living room, taking a look around. There are flowers everywhere it seems like, in little cups or glasses on almost every flat surface, along with a few flower arrangements hung from the ceiling. The living room is modest, though, like the decorator wanted it to look more middle class than first class. There's a TV on the far wall, a VCR attached to it on a little table below the television set. In front of the TV is a coffee table, and in front of the coffee table is a pink couch with a white flower pattern on it.
Hesitantly, Locus takes a seat on the couch, surprised by how comfortable it is. When he had first been hit on by Butch at the bar, he had figured that he was just some ordinary Joe who was looking for a one-night-stand. Well, it seems Locus was mistaken, because this guy has a lot of class, and he hasn't tried to get Locus into his bedroom yet. Locus had, initially, planned on fucking the guy- it would make for a good distraction from the bullshit in his head- but now he's not so sure. It's been a long, long time since Locus has slept with anyone other than Felix, and he's a little worried that if he let's himself get fucked by this guy, that he'll have a panic attack or accidentally call him Felix. Before Locus can worry himself any further, Butch returns, this time with not only a cup of water, but a package of crackers, too.
"Thought I'd bring you a little snack. It's nothing too heavy; I'm afraid I don't know whether or not you're a vomiting drunk yet," Butch explains, taking a seat beside Locus while setting the cup and crackers down on the coffee table. "Help yourself, sweetheart. You look like you haven't eaten in days."
Locus resists the urge to tell him it's true as he reaches hesitantly for the crackers, quietly opening the package and pulling a few out, nibbling on one nervously under Butch's watchful gaze. "So where are you from, Luke? I haven't seen you in this part of the city before," Butch comments, smiling at Locus. "You an off-worlder?"
Locus swallows down whatever he has in his mouth, setting the crackers aside as he takes a sip of water, unable to hide his obvious nervousness. "I'm a drifter," He offers, hoping that Butch will buy that excuse. "I was just stopping here for gas and possibly a one-night-stand."
"Ah," Butch sounds out, nodding his head in understanding. "I was the same way, once upon a time ago. I used to serve in the war, but... well, let's just say I lost someone dear to me and didn't have the heart to keep fighting. Besides, I had already ruined my name. There was no point in continuing to fight."
"You were in the military?" Locus asks, surprised. He never expected Butch to be in the military, the guy seems too small and orderly for such a thing.
"Special Ops," Butch admits, winking at Locus. "I was one of the best, but those days are behind me now... this place is nice. A little loud, but nicer than most places right now. Every other planet is panicking it seems like, soldiers trying to find their family's now that the war is over and done with..." He stops, scoffing under his breath. "Who am I kidding? Sorry, son. I guess I just got lost rambling..."
"I understand completely," Locus promises, taking another mouthful of water from his cup. "I too served in the war. However, I was simply a soldier."
Butch nods in understanding. "You ever seen a Covvie?" He asks, and when Locus nods, he sighs in thought. "They never tell you how big they really are when you sign up... but I already knew by then. I was a colony kid, before I was old enough to join. I was one of the last survivors of my colony when it got glassed. I was only eight years old that day," He sighs again, sinking into the couch as he daydreams. "What a day that was... lost my folks, my home... everything."
"I'm sorry," Locus says, staring pointedly at the floor when he says it. "I was raised on Earth, believe it or not. I never had to deal with the Covenant until I enlisted."
"You ever regret that decision?" Butch asks. When Locus doesn't answer, he nods, looking away from the young mercenary. "I don't regret mine. I met so many important people in my life through the war... I don't regret a thing. Except, maybe, never telling Reggie goodbye," When Locus raises an eyebrow, Butch chuckles. "Heh... yeah, Reggie and I were partners during the war, but... I had to go on a mission and leave him. I knew I'd never see him again, yet I still didn't say goodbye... I guess I just figured that if I never said goodbye, then I'd never really lose him... I was wrong."
Locus nods, silent as he and Butch let the clock on the wall count the seconds that pass. Locus understands not saying goodbye; no one ever wants to say goodbye anymore. Yet somehow... his mind drifts off, remembering orange and black and an energy sword in his hand glowing blue as he felt the weight of the universe on his shoulders. He had given Felix up; traded him for a second chance and a stupid sword. Locus can still remember the betrayal in Felix's voice when he had learned the truth, how he had carelessly thrown his sword at Locus, instead of using it to try and take out one of the simulation troopers nearby. He had been just as done with the war as Locus, but he hadn't gotten the message yet. He had still been convinced that he could win. Now he's dead, and Locus is here. One half of a whole.
"Sorry..." Butch says, after a time, and Locus unintentionally flinches at the voice, hearing someone else's in that moment. "Didn't mean to stir up any old memories... so... who'd you lose?"
Locus hesitates, trying to regain himself. Coming here was a bad decision; if he had known that Butch would stir up so many thoughts, he would've let himself drink himself dead in that back-alley bar. Not like anyone was left in the universe to care if Luke Powers dropped dead or not. "It's personal." He manages, after awhile, hoping Butch will let a sleeping bear lie.
And Butch just nods, understanding. "I get it," He promises, and Locus can feel the honesty in his voice when he says it. "I really do. Healing takes time... God knows it took me awhile," After a moment, he stands, holding out his hand to Locus. "Come on, son," He offers, giving Locus a small but friendly smile. "Let's get you to bed; I have a spare room you can rest in."
Locus, again, isn't certain, but after glancing at his empty cup, he sets it down and takes Butch's hand, the both of them holding on tighter than they really need to. Or maybe they DO need to? Locus isn't sure. He's just glad that he has a pillow to rest his head on tonight. As Butch leads him out of the living room, Locus' vision fades and darkens, and the last thing he remembers is being tucked into a bed he's never seen before and watching Butch leave the room, before unconsciousness finally let him rest.
The next morning is slow and painful. Locus feels like absolute shit when he wakes up, despite having slept in a comfortable bed all night. Actually, the bed is still comforting when he comes to, trying desperately to sooth Locus' pains and aches away, but all Locus is made of now adays is aches and pains, and he can't bear to lose that part of himself just yet. In order to avoid losing that part, Locus gets out of bed- no matter how much his body protests- and stretches as he stands at his full height once more. Locus squints as he looks around the low-lit room, trying to get a feel for the place. The room, like the rest of the apartment/flat, has a flower theme to it, with yellow and red rose flowers painted all over the pink walls of the bedroom, and a tiger lily shaped lamp sitting in the far corner.
Yawning and shaking his head, Locus crosses the room and opens the blinds to one of the room's windows, before forcing the glass window open and poking his head outside to look around. He's high up, with a few stories separating him from the busy city below. All along the streets are civilians either walking their dogs or rushing to work, not caring about the lives of those around them. For a moment, Locus feels lost and alone, separated, as he watches people walk and talk and converse, like it's no big deal. Locus will never be able to live like that. He's done too many awful things, seen too many horrific sights, and has committed too many tragic sins. Locus will never be a normal civilian. Before he can drown in these thoughts, Locus closes the window and turns, looking away from the busy city outside.
Just as Locus feels himself beginning to shake, the door to the guest bedroom creaks open, and Butch pokes his head inside. He notices Locus, and promptly grins, entering completely into the room and closing the door behind him. Butch this morning is dressed even more casually than he had been yesterday, wearing fuzzy pink pajama pants that are too big on him, white bunny slippers, and a white hoodie with a blue Hawaiian flower on the front that is also much too big on him. He seems unperturbed by this though, grinning widely at Locus as he tilts his head, studying him. Unintentionally, Locus squirms under Butch's seemingly judgmental gaze, realizing all too soon that he's still dressed in what he wore last night, and probably smelling really sweaty and gross.
As if realizing this as well, Butch steps aside, giving Locus access to the bedroom door. "I came to wake you up, but it seems Mother Nature beat me to it," Butch sing-songs, smiling as he looks Locus up and down. "Looks to me like you could use a shower, huh? Well, feel free to use mine. It's down the hall, second door to the right. I'll bring you in some spare clothes and a towel while you're getting washed up. And don't worry about using my soap; I'm perfectly fine with sharing!"
Locus feels tempted to refuse and walk out, but he's much too tired to refuse much of anything right now. With a nod, he accepts Butch's offer and scoots past him, hurrying off to the bathroom to make himself presentable. He finds the designated door with ease (It has a wooden sign with fake ivy wrapped around the wires holding it onto a hook reading 'Bathroom'). When Locus enters, he's assaulted by the overwhelming scent of incense, a mix he suspects contains some form of dragon fruit or flower. The room, like everything else in the apartment, is impossibly clean and orderly, with everything having it's own little place. Locus hesitates this time, hands fisting the hem of his sweatshirt as he eyes the room, trying to decide whether or not he should really strip and use this stranger's shower.
The door behind Locus creeks open as he contemplates his choices, and he swings around, one hand still tugging his shirt down, the other raised in a fist and ready to defend his body from any potential threats. "Oh," Butch says, the word leaving his mouth like a puff if smoke as his eyes widen, him halfway into the room. "Sorry for not knocking... you need any help?" He holds out a folded up bathrobe and some boxers. They look like they'll be too small on Locus. "I brought you some clothes..."
Locus, after a moment, calms himself down and retracts his raised fist, but it stays closed. "Thank you." He eventually mutters, voice hoarse from little to no use since last night.
Butch smiles then, glad to get a verbal reaction out of Locus. "It's no problem at all, Luke," He promises, walking into the bathroom to set the folded bathrobe and boxers on the bathroom's counter-top. "I'll just leave these here for you," He says, before making for the door. He stops, however, and snaps his fingers in exclamation. "Oh! I almost forgot," He goes back to Locus, moving around him to get at the shower's knobs, turning them to turn the water on. "Here. That way you won't have to call me in when you're getting ready." With that done, he exits the room, leaving Locus to shower.
After he's gone and his footsteps have faded down the hallway, Locus lets out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. With no other choice, Locus begins to strip, throwing off his shirts and pants without much reluctance from his conscience. Once he's naked, Locus forces himself into the shower, sliding closed the shower door as he pushes his head underneath the shower's spray. The feeling of warm, clean water on Locus' skin is refreshing, and he sighs with exhaustion, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep right there, still standing in the shower as hot water courses over him. But Locus can't just let himself be unguarded in this new, unfamiliar place. This is not his domain, and it never will be. However, the warmth and security wins out in the end, making Locus' muscles loosen and his mind clear itself.
He's not sure when exactly he starts masturbating, but Locus' hand finds his dick after a few more minutes of standing there. His eyes go half-lidded as he bites his lip, trying to keep himself quiet while he gets off for the first time in weeks. Unintentionally, Locus' mind drifts back to a somewhat better time. Well, not really 'better' per-say. It had been a time of war and genocide for the human race, but war was where Locus thrived and fit, so war was somehow made into a place of peace for him during hard times. War was simple; watch your back, protect your teammates, and kill the Dinos threatening to destroy all of mankind. Locus was never good at those last two things, due to a habit of getting distracted and being sympathetic towards pretty much everything for too long, but goddamn, could he survive.
Locus groans as he squeezes himself, pressing his free hand up against the shower wall, struggling to stay balanced as his knees shake from arousal. He's close. He bites down harder on his lip, drawing blood, but that's nothing compared to the waves of heat and pleasure that course through Locus as he unintentionally grinds against his open palm, humping it like a horny dog that hasn't been fixed yet. Locus' eyes dilate as he cums, a splash of white covering his palm as a flash of orange and black armor against his body invades his vision. Locus jumps at the self-made hallucination, leaping back a step, escaping the spray of water and the droplets of cum on the shower floor, which are slowly escaping down the drain. Thoughtlessly, Locus finishes cleaning himself off, too scared to think as he finishes up.
By the time Locus is redressed, the scent of breakfast being cooked has made it's way into the bathroom. Following his nose (And his stomach), Locus makes for the kitchen, finding the way only because of someone's (He suspects Butch's) singing and the heavenly aroma of bacon and eggs. Quiet as a mouse, Locus peeks into the room, eyes immediately landing on Butch. Butch is stationed at the kitchen stove, cooking breakfast while he sings a song Locus has never heard before now. The song is soft and sweet, and all too suddenly, Locus feels unfit for this picture. This stranger- Butch- is waiting for his ex-partner Reggie to finish his shower and join him for a romantic, early morning meal to start the day with. He's not waiting on Luke Powers, some back-alley kid from God knows where with a mysterious past.
Just as Locus begins to consider leaving the apartment- maybe jumping from the bedroom window, for instance- Butch turns around, eyeing Locus, and his song ends at once. Locus feels tension in the air as the song ends, like he's just walked in on a very personal moment, but the tension dies quickly when Butch smiles, and goddamn, he doesn't look anything like Felix when he smiles. Felix's smiles were always predatory and malicious- like a cat waiting to make the kill, or a shark that was circling it's prey- but Butch's smiles are soft, genuine, and full of laughter and excitement. It makes Locus' chest feel warm and fuzzy, for whatever reason. Without even speaking, Locus escapes his stupor by taking a seat at the kitchen table.
"You look better," Butch notes, simply, after staring at Locus for far too long. He looks him up and down, smirking a bit. Somehow, he still doesn't look like Felix, even when he smirks, and Locus can't help but love it. "I heard you in there, a little bit ago... it's a good destresser, isn't it?"
Locus blushes, looking away, more due to embarrassment than anything else. Biting his lip, he simply nods his head in agreement, not that he agrees or anything. Locus very pointedly does not tell Butch about the flash of orange and black armor, or of the horror that came with it, and he sure as fuck doesn't tell Butch how much he misses the war, the feeling of a SAW in his armored hands, it's weight like a ghost now in his daydreams, hard and deadly and almost real enough for Locus to close his eyes and hear the explosions- the toaster goes off. Locus jumps. Butch blinks. A silence follows, and quietly, Butch gets the toast out of the toaster, buttering it in utter silence. Locus wonders, absentmindedly, if Butch saw the look of horror and murder in Locus' eyes when he flinched.
"Sorry... this old thing is so loud..." Butch mutters, after a few minutes of extended silence, his eyes unable to meet Locus'. "I should really just get a new one."
And all of a sudden, Locus looks at Butch and Butch looks at him and... it fits. Butch is just as fucked up as Locus, if not more. He's lost his partner, too- possibly in the same way, with betrayal- and is slowly spiraling into an almost calm and delusional insanity that only a fine, fine man like Butch can fall into. He is breaking, just like Locus, but he is far more quiet and collected about the entire mess than Locus will ever be. Locus keeps his eyes on Butch as he moves around the room, getting things ready. Butch's hands are furious as he works, never pausing, but when they do, if only for a split second, Locus sees them shake and shiver. He's dying, in a way. Butch has been alone for too long, and he knows that Locus knows that now. Yet he doesn't kill him, even though Locus highly suspects that he could, if he wanted to.
Once Butch finishes, he brings two full plates of breakfast foods to the kitchen table, and sets one down in front of Locus, the other staying in front of himself. When Butch sits, he almost falls out of the chair. Locus notices. Butch, somehow, ignores Locus' eyes on him the entire time as he collects himself mentally, sitting upright. He doesn't eat right away, eyes flickering between Locus' full plate, his own plate, Locus' eyes, and his pajama pants. Butch, unintentionally, snakes a hand down and fists the hem of his hoodie, tugging on it experimentally, like he's been doing it for years. Locus suspects that he has. After a long while, Butch finally re-meets Locus' eyes, and it takes every bit of self-control in Locus not to look away this time.
"I'm sorry about that. Loud noises..." Butch trails off, swallowing, and Locus can practically smell his anxiousness. "I'm sure you understand."
Locus nods, and Butch sighs with relief. Butch gets by now what kind of person Locus is- he doesn't talk much, so a nod is the most he can really expect from him as a reply. "Good, good... let's eat then, shall we?" Butch offers, after a moment, and starts eating. Locus suspects in silence that he's just trying to keep his mouth full to avoid answering questions.
When both of their plates are clear, another silence follows. Locus glances at the clock hung upon the nearest wall. It's almost ten in the morning, and when Locus peers outside, he can see the brightness the early morning has brought. He should really be going. After all, this isn't Locus' apartment. As kind as it was for Butch to let him stay overnight, Locus knows that this is no place for a mercenary like him. As much as Locus hates it, he is nothing more than a mercenary now- a monster. He doesn't belong in a quaint, cozy little home, with a roaring fireplace in the winter months and Popsicle's to lick during the summer time. Locus isn't made to be a civilian- he's made to be a weapon. Then again... that whole part of himself isn't really quite there anymore. Agent Washington made quick work of destroying that persona.
Butch catches Locus' eyes on the clock, and when Locus meets his gaze, he knows all too quickly of what Butch wants from him, even before he offers it. "You know... it's a bad time of year to be traveling," Butch states, even though there is no 'bad time of year' to drift around in the vacuum of space. "And, it is rather lonely in this place... I wouldn't mind the company."
Locus is half-tempted to tell him to shut up and get a dog. The other half, however, is eager for the sort of domestic, mundane, sweet attention that Butch gives to him in truckloads. Locus looks around, and his eyes again spot everything floral in the room, unable to escape the sea of flower petals and sunshiny photographs that almost make Locus believe that he's somewhere else entirely. It's nice here. Locus breathes in and out, slowly, savoring the taste of the humid air in his lungs and the weight it bears on his entire being to be alive. This little apartment is rather... homey, and Locus could keep himself busy if he wanted to with house repairs- not that it's strictly needed though. Yes, this would be a very nice place to stay in, even if it meant giving Butch access to everything that he is, inside and out.
Locus swallows, feeling the rawness of his throat, and with a tired sigh of both fatigue and defeat, he re-meets Butch's gaze, eyes gleaming from the sunbeams that show through the shutters. "I think that would be nice," Locus eventually agrees, looking away as he sees a flash of a smile, not wanting to look too long. "So long as it's not a chore for you."
Butch just smiles at Locus, when he looks at him again, and Locus is so damn glad that he doesn't look anything like Felix when he does that. It reminds him that this is a different time; a new beginning. Butch reaches across the table, cupping a hand over Locus' own, his smile bright and cheerful. "I would love to have you stay with me, Luke. It's not a chore at all."
And just like that, it's set in stone, like a weight has dissipated from Locus' chest. Okay, so he has a place to live now on some backwater, outer colony shithole of a planet. Okay. He can work with this.
Locus leans back in his chair, closing his eyes, trying to feel nothing at all. He can work with this.
A/N: I'm absolutely in love with this AU and I have no idea why! Please R&R!
~CabooseHeart.