Chapter 2: Secrets
Pairing: HB/Myers (eventually)
Feedback: Welcome.
Disclaimer: This is not a cash venture. I know the characters are not mine, and I mean no copyright infringement by writing this. The song's not mine either. I think it's Gene Autrey's, but I could be wrong.
Notes: Spoilers for first Hellboy movie
Hellboy:
Something's up, and Myers isn't sharing.
He doesn't talk to the other agents as much, and he doesn't seem to like ME talkin' to them either, which is a dead giveaway that they're givin' him flak. He caught some crap about 'sleeping with' with me and Liz too, but I think this time it's worse.
Figures.
Myers has a life. He reads a lot with Abe, he runs PT with the other agents topside, and he goes into town. Even visits family a couple of times a year. Myers just naturally likes people, an' he's sad when they don't like him back.
Holding the only steady job a regular Joe can get in this outfit has never made him popular, but -this-... I dunno.
I could back off for a while. Wait for things ta- ...Aww God, I -can't-. I can see his eyes already. Myers is a big boy and I've GOT to let him handle this, but if he doesn't sort 'em out soon...
Myers:
I go through my e-mail and delete them, one by one. They're like the usual joke chain-letters that circulate unchecked in ANY government organization, except that each one has an image pulled from the security camera in Hellboy's room. They're mostly of us. Me and him. It's like a comic strip without words, or it was until somebody started adding captions last Wednesday.
If I wasn't this angry, I might be really embarrassed.
Hellboy:
"What happened to the TV in the corner?" I ask, pointing.
Myers instantly gets that cat-got-canary look.
"Oh- -it just wasn't working properly."
In other words, that's where the latest spy camera was hidden. ...Those damn things are like crabgrass.
"Does this have anything to do with the picture of Thompson eating milk bones that got taped to every doorway in the-"
"Yeah, it might." -There's some steel in Myers's voice.
"Huh." I reach over and ruffle his hair with my fingers. "-Nice work, partner."
"Abe helped," Myers admits, smiling shyly.
Hellboy:
It's over.
I look up at the blue sky through a ragged hole in the slate-shingled roof above me, and immediately start hacking and coughing from the settling stone dust.
"Blue, you okay?" I gasp.
"I appear none the worse for wear," Abe says, stepping out of an alcove and lowering his crossbow.
"Myers?"
He raises a hand and nods, but doesn't answer. He's still got the wind knocked out of him from being thrown against the alter at the back of the church. I was aiming for the DOOR, but I had four-faced leather winged guy on my hands at the time. Yeesh. Talk about bats in the belfry...
Myers:
"We have GOT to get you a weapon," Hellboy says, peeling off what's left of his latest coat. It's stained with some kind of black, sticky fluid, though whether from an attack or the monster's blood I can't tell.
"I've got a weapon," I point out, holding up my gun.
"No, I mean a real weapon. Like silver-plated shirukens, or a bullwhip like Indiana Jones..."
"You want me to carry a bullwhip?" I echo.
Red looks me over for a moment.
"...Maybe not such a hot idea," he admits. "-You've got one scar on your chin already," he adds, grinning.
My hand goes automatically to my chin, and I feel kind of stupid.
"Maybe body armor would be more to the point," I grumble.
"DAMN!"
"-What?"
"...I've never thought about that. Why DON'T you guys wear vests?"
"I- I don't know."
"We're getting you one," Red decides.
"What about the other agents?" I point out.
"Oh yeah, them too," Red agrees.
"Good luck getting it past Manning."
"That's what I've got you for," Red jokes, patting my shoulder.
"You sir, are doing your own paperwork on the bat guy."
"...Deal."
Myers:
I wake up with a crushing pain around my arm.
It's quiet except for Red's uneven breathing, and for a moment I panic, wondering where his dreams have taken him, and if Red's going to break my arm before I can get him awake.
"MEOW!" I yell at him.
Hellboy's startled yellow eyes snap open in the dim, silent flicker of the black-and white TV that's still on, and he lets go of my arm carefully. I let out a breath, wincing.
"A- -are you okay?" he whispers.
"Yeah, I think so," I nod, rubbing my arm.
"I am so sorry."
Very softly, Red begins stroking my hair with his stone hand. He's right handed, and despite what it looks like, I think he has better control with that one.
"Red-?"
"Hmm?"
"What were you dreaming about?"
Hellboy's silent for a long moment.
"Oh, the usual. Just four men going out for a ride..." he sighs.
-In other words, he dreamed of the apocalypse. Again.
It's irreverent as all hell, but a song comes into my mind, and I start humming the score under my breath. Red knows it. As quietly as someone with a voice as deep as his can, he begins to sing the words.
"An old cowpoke went ridin' out one dark and windy day- -upon a ridge he rested as he went along his way- -when all at once a mighty herd of red-eyed cows he saw- -a plowin' through the ragged sky an' up the cloudy draw..."
I join in, and we sing it through.
"...G'night, John," Red murmurs into my hair.
"Good night, pardner," I reply.
This time, neither one of us dreams.
-
