It started off with a subtle tremor that stirred him from sleep.

Drummer Boy hadn't necessarily been all that tired when he laid back down a few hours before- in fact he had somewhat assigned himself to working with High-Rise on a few around-the-building projects.

But Charmer had still been cold, and completely exhausted when the man re-emerged from his shower; when he had stumbled his way back into their shared room, quick to sit down and take his prosthetic off again- half-mumbling something about wet skin in a cold compression sock. Drummer Boy had pretended to know what the man was talking about, if anything just to get Charmer to get some needed rest.

Drummer Boy would admit that he had been the one to insist such a thing, figuring Charmer needed to get a few more hours of sleep to shake off the overnight feral ghoul killing spree; he just didn't exactly expect Charmer to drag him off to bed with him. But the man had still been complaining about the chill under his skin, about the shiver in his bones, and it was hard not to consider sharing body heat just to take the edge off.

(It wouldn't have been the first time he had done so anyways).

But the moment Charmer had him wrapped up in his arms, and tangled in the loose covers of the bed, he couldn't exactly move away.

The moment he felt Charmer's warm breath hit the skin of his neck, felt the soothing, relaxed slack of Charmer's body against his own, Drummer Boy resigned himself to spending a little more than just a few minutes with him.

After all, a few extra hours of sleep on his end wouldn't be too bad of a thing.

Thankfully he wasn't needed for anything dire, and no one needed him to repeat the information from the day before.

Groaning softly, Drummer Boy half-expected someone to be shaking him awake when he came to, but the sensation didn't continue on. It was probably nothing- or at least nothing more than someone just dropping something out in the hallway. The floors of Ticonderoga were pretty thin so even the slightest of things falling could make it feel like the whole building was shaking and coming apart.

He tried to convince himself to ignore it, which was fairly easy to do seeing as the slightest of movements drew his attention to the occasional, tightening sensation around his waist. Glancing over his shoulder, Drummer Boy looked back to where Charmer was half-buried against him- to where Charmer's face was lightly rubbing against his back as the man was forced to make himself comfortable once more.

All he had done was slightly turn away from the man, just barely even that much, and yet Charmer was quick to follow after him.

Drummer Boy couldn't help but to chuckle lightly at the sight, at the feeling of the man's arms settling against him once more, before he tried to settle back in himself. Seeing as he couldn't get up even if he wanted to, he guessed he didn't have a choice but to stick around and make himself comfortable while he was at it. It wasn't too much to ask for a lazy day from time to time, and considering how they had both been working overtime for quite awhile now, moments like this would keep them from burning out completely.

Moments like this would keep them sane in the long run.

"You're more trouble than you're worth, Charmer," Drummer Boy whispered, quiet and low to himself, a subtle tease that the man would never hear.

But Charmer did, and Drummer Boy felt those arms squeeze around his midsection once again.

"Well, I'll have you know that I'm worth a lot in these parks," the man muttered, wedged somewhere between Drummer Boy's shoulders, and the back of his neck. Charmer was a good conductor of heat himself once his skin was no longer red and blistered, and his blood was properly pumping. There was an obvious pool of warmth where the two of them were pressed together, a mess of Charmer's hugging arms, and kneeing legs. "Which I guess says a lot about how much trouble I am."

He chuckled quietly, and moved one hand down to brush against Charmer's, knitted and tight against his abdomen. Drummer Boy felt the easy way they came unraveled at his touch though; he felt the way now-warmed fingers moved to tangle with his own- grasping and messy in their own right. No longer stiff and frozen, barely able to curl into a fist, but now able to curl desperately against his knuckles.

"A lot more than you will ever know."

Charmer laughed this time, muffled quiet against the back of his coat. "It's part of my appeal," he insisted, and Drummer Boy swore he could feel the man's grin against his back. "It's probably how I managed to attract you to me in the first place."

Drummer Boy snorted softly at the cocky response- taking in Charmer's amused tone with the words; the man certainly seemed to be priding himself on the catch. He squeezed Charmer's fingers between his own, feeling the roughness of the man's skin- still battered from the cold outside. It would be worth seeing if he could borrow some of Rent's homemade lotion when the agent returned. It was in high demand around this time of year when everyone's skin was chapped and dried out from the blistering winds- especially Rent's.

"Let's get one thing straight here," Drummer Boy started, "you came for me first."

Charmer gave a subtle, loose scoff at the words. "You were the one who started all the teasing," he retorted.

"Me? You were the one who kept flirting with me on the staircase."

"You were the one who kept meeting me there."

Charmer could be very persistent when he wanted to be.

Drummer Boy feigned a hefty sigh. "See what I mean? More trouble than you're worth," he remarked, only to hear Charmer give another muffled laugh. He felt the man curl up closer to him, felt the more pronounced press of the man's forehead against the back of his shoulder- the pronounced pool of heat between them as Charmer purposely squeezed in closer.

And maybe he should've considered the thinness of the walls around them a little more with this conversation,

Maybe he should've considered that the other agents were probably getting a little too much of their conversation right now.

But Drummer Boy brushed it aside- knowing well that he had heard plenty enough, and plenty worse, through thin walls before. Especially at Ticonderoga.

"You even held my hair back when I was throwing up that one time- I mean, come on, that's a commitment," Charmer insistingly continued.

Commitment.

Drummer Boy had to admit that the word hit him a little harder than expected- not that he was expecting the word to come up. He rolled it around in his head for a few seconds, letting it echo off other memories of that same word spoken over and over again. The same word, commitment, spoken from different people, in different phrases, each with different meanings.

Each spoken with a different purpose, a different roll of the tongue- different annunciation.

"We each have a commitment to make to the Synths, to the Railroad."

"We have to be committed to the job- we're the only ones they got."

(It was all about business).

"You and me Pey', it'd be a fun thing, don't you think? I mean this whole operation is about making commitments, what's one more?"

(The last one dug a little harder than he was willing to admit to).

He eventually let the word sink in.

Let it make a home for itself where it could- a new placeholder for future memories, or something to look back on later.

He wished he could say that it settled well with him though.

"Is that what we are, Charmer? A commitment?" Drummer Boy questioned, a little quieter now- a little more hushed. Not exactly sure where he was going with the conversation- unsure if he even wanted to go with it.

There was a small pocket of silence behind him, and it left him to wonder if Charmer was going through the same revelation. Going through memories and thoughts of that word, of the idea. He didn't think that the man was- after all, Charmer was pre-war. He didn't know much of what it was like to live in this kind of world, to live this kind of life. To fall in love with someone who was only going to get shot and killed the next day.

But that would be marking up Charmer too quickly.

That man had seen war, been a part of it- had lived it.

Had suffered from it when he pulled himself out of that vault alone- a victim of a world he had never even seen.

Charmer knew what it was like.

The silence was punctured by a long inhale from the other man; a steady breath.

"Yeah," Charmer whispered, clear and semi-easy it would seem. Charmer's body turned tense as the man pulled himself into whatever stretch he could without moving, too comfortable to change the way they were currently fitting together. The man briefly unfolded his arms, leaving behind a cold place where they once were, only to pull them back warm, and tight again against Drummer Boy's ribs. "I mean, I don't know if you were waiting for me to do, or say something, and I don't really know how things around here work, but... I do want this."

Another moment of silence, a stilled breath against the back of Drummer Boy's neck.

Contemplation maybe.

"I want you, and maybe this is moving too fast, but-"

"You have to be fast," Drummer Boy interrupted. "Not just in this kind of business, but... just overall. You never know when something's going to be happen, or when your last day is going to be. Sometimes it just happens, and... If you're the one left behind, there's nothing you can do but pick up the pieces and hope you got all of them."

Silence again.

It was fitting, but also enough to make Drummer Boy wonder if he had said too much, had spoken too much from thought, from experience.

The hollowed throbbing in his own chest seemed to agree.

This wasn't exactly the place to reminisce, but it wasn't something that could just be ignored either. He was still alive in this day and age, which was enough to say that he had had plenty of experience with picking up the pieces; he still had to count them from time to time- some of them still raw and bloodied in his hands.

And Charmer... he was still brushing the frost off of his.

He was still mending a life broken by bombs, and a life ended by a single bullet underground.

Charmer pulled him in close once more though, and Drummer Boy admitted he was a little surprised by the action. And admitted further that he was surprised by the warm lips that carefully pressed against the back of his neck- sending a small shiver down the curve of his spine. Drummer Boy felt the way Charmer's hands untangled and released themselves from his own just before they slid up along his chest; he felt fingers curl into the front of his jacket, bundling the thick material between fists, and anchoring him.

"So is this something real, or just a spurred moment made out of the fear of being alone?" Charmer whispered.

And Drummer Boy felt he had reasons to believe that this was not the first time Charmer had asked such a specific question.

"Just live in the moment, Charmer; it's a lot easier that way."

Not exactly hopeful, or inspiring, but brutally truthful- brutally honest.

Something that they were both inclined to believe instead.

Drummer Boy felt the man release him for a moment, felt the loss of heat as Charmer started to pull away; felt the loss of weight as Charmer's arms came undone from around him, as fingers gave up their hold on his jacket. He hated to admit that there was that small hint of panic, that small surge of maybe he had said too much too soon. That maybe he hadn't been confident enough, been supportive enough in this decision- in this would-be commitment.

That he had been too hesitant.

"Oh God, why have I been lying on my leg this entire time?" Charmer groaned instead, a rhetorical tone acting as secondary, as he rolled flat onto his back now- wrestling his arm out from underneath Drummer Boy.

Drummer Boy frowned at the quiet outburst, before he pushed himself up enough to look over at Charmer, and watched as the man rubbed at his right thigh. It was a little odd to see the man without his prosthetic on- in fact, it was a little rare to see him without it; and more so rare to even see the prosthetic itself. By first glance, no one would've even know that Charmer was missing the lower half of his right leg.

So to see the man without it, even if the remaining portion was still covered by the slackness of his jeans, was a little new- a little personal.

Drummer Boy watched as Charmer lifted his thigh just enough for him to knit his hands underneath his knee, before he pulled the leg towards his chest. It was a subtle stretch technique Drummer Boy had seen a few other amputee agents do when they were resting- either about to lie down, or get up from bed. He wasn't sure what it did, but everyone seemed to do it. Although Carrington advised against do it lying down.

"I hate to say it, Charmer, but... there's not much of a leg to remember."

It was enough to spur a laugh out of the man once more.

"Hey, there's still half of it," Charmer reminded, as he reached over and placed a hand on Drummer Boy's chest- letting it linger just before he loosely pushed him back." I can't believe I kissed you yesterday with that mouth- don't look at me."

He couldn't help but to laugh at the man's mock sense of anger. "It's nothing I haven't seen before," Drummer Boy remarked.

"Don't care," Charmer replied, as he briefly moved the limb around in his hands, subtly working out the muscle tension, before he released it and laid it back flat. Maybe it was because the man caught him still staring, but Charmer seemed provoked enough to explain. "Sometimes when that phantom limb thing kicks in, I forget that the leg's not there anymore- start thinking I can do whatever I want, you know? It doesn't hurt all that much, but it's just really annoying, and inconvenient sometimes. Especially when I'm not supposed to lie on it, but I do, and it gets all swollen and doesn't fit in the prosthetic correctly."

Charmer was one of the lucky ones then.

Plenty of the Railroad agents here suffered from the same kind of phantom pain.

Colada had had it really bad that first year, but it seemed to have calm down for now- either that, or the man had stopped talking about it. No, Colada was brash, and loud, but he didn't try to overcompensate for anything; he was honest about things. So if his hip was still hurting, he would've said plenty by now; he would've taken himself off the field to ensure that it was getting proper rest and proper medical attention.

Drummer Boy felt Charmer's hand at his chest once more- only this time it was pushing him back down before he watched as Charmer rolled himself towards him. He watched as the man moved over him now; Charmer's good leg swinging over his hips, while a hand had to catch the pillow underneath him- allowing the man to steady himself as he successfully straddled his waist now.

Drummer Boy caught the slightest hint of Charmer's warm breath against his face, before Charmer pushed himself back onto his knees. The hand from before remained on his chest, while Charmer's other hand moved to brace itself against his right thigh as the man seemed inclined to straightened himself up- keeping his hips and back straight with the new position.

It was a little hard not to notice the slight grimace on Charmer's face as he did so, even though the expression quickly weaned itself off as the man settled in.

"It's a stretch I have to do."

Drummer Boy chuckled at the words, at the likely excuse. "Yeah, sure, I've heard that one before."

Charmer laughed once more and pulled himself into another stretch- pulling his body upward as he did so. And as much as Drummer Boy would've liked to ignore it, it was difficult to not want to watch Charmer do so. Then again, with the man quite literally sitting on top of him, it was impossible to even try and focus on something other than Charmer.

The man seemed persistent with being his center of attention right now.

"Can I ask you something?" Drummer Boy questioned, before deciding it best to elaborate. "- about your leg."

"What about it?"

"How long did you have it before the bombs dropped?"

Charmer furrowed his brow slightly at the question, and for a moment, Drummer Boy worried that it might've been too soon to ask; it might've been too personal to ask. Seeing his leg, and hearing the story of losing it was one thing, but not a lot of people wanted to talk about how long it might've been since. It brought up too many memories, too many could've-been scenarios running over and over again.

Only a few seconds though, before Drummer Boy realize that Charmer seemed to be more in thought than anything.

"The bombs fell in 2077," Charmer started, rolling his neck in one clean motion, before the gesture rolled down along his body- working out the last of his stiffness. "I got shot in November of 2075, so I didn't get this leg until the following January of 2076- and I went through a few prototypes with varying degrees of success beforehand." He scratched lightly at his jaw now, working on some dates, and touching at where a five o'clock shadow was making face. "It was late October in 2077, so I had had the leg for almost two years before the bombs."

"That's not very long," Drummer Boy remarked, unsure exactly of why he had imagined it being longer. Maybe it was how the man handled himself, how he portrayed himself- how he took care of himself with it.

"No, not really," Charmer admitted with a shrug. "But what can you do, you know? It's two hundred years later, and there really aren't any of my kind of doctors hanging around. I had to learn to just roll with the punches, and hope the thing holds out like it was promised to." A slight pause now as the man settled back- one hand moving to grasp at his stunted knee, once more checking on it. "Why the curiosity?"

"I don't know," he replied, "just got curious I guess. Normally when I see you, you already have your leg on."

Charmer lightly chuckled and moved his free hand to brush the loose strands of black hair from his face. "I know- how scandalous," he mused, teasing, before he scooted himself back- giving himself room to lean down.

Drummer Boy once more felt the heat of the man's breath on his face, on his lips, as Charmer shifted down onto one forearm to support himself; as Charmer shifted his body down on top of his own- just barely allowing his body weight to touch him. He felt the subtle tremor in his chest from the sudden attention, but Drummer Boy didn't move; he didn't want to move out from underneath Charmer's weight. It felt like security on top of him, a subtle acknowledgement that the man was right here, and that he was safe for the time being.

Everything between them was made up in moments.

Pieced together with the scrap portions of time that could be scrounge up.

And for now, for them, it was enough.

It didn't take long before Drummer Boy felt the heat of Charmer's lips on his neck instead. He drew in a sharp breath at the action, felt the subtle graze of teeth on his skin, and felt himself leaning his head back.

"Elijah," Drummer Boy whispered, feeling the touch of Charmer's tongue against his skin now- feeling the slight pressure behind the man's lips as Charmer pressed firm against his neck. It was easy to feel the weight of the embrace against his pulse; it was easy to feel the way Charmer pressed his lips, his mouth against him, spilling hot air across now wet skin. He groaned softly in response, feeling the steady pace Charmer chose as the man slowly moved lower along his neck. "Not exactly how I want to wake up the rest of Ticonderoga."

And yet, he still turned his head to give Charmer more space.

And there was no hesitation as Charmer kissed at him harder in response, nipping lightly at his skin now.

Drummer Boy felt the careful brush of fingers against his neck, before he felt Charmer loosely cup a hand over his mouth- just barely masking the quiet moan that managed to escape him next.

"Asshole," he whispered, pushing his hand aside, much to Charmer's apparent amusement as he heard the man give a muffled laugh against his skin. He could feel Charmer nipping and sucking at hs neck, peppering the skin just barely below his collar with dark red rings; it was hard to ignore the heat of Charmer's mouth against his skin, almost burning it in the drafty room they were in. "You kiss a guy once."

"Can you blame me?" Charmer whispered, breathing hot into the dip of his collarbones now.

Drummer Boy pushed his hands between them and grabbed Charmer by the thin collar of his shirt, before he pulled the man in against him- feeling the familiar warmth of the man's lips against his own now, whispering against them directly as he spoke next. "No, can't say that I can," he replied.

"Me either."

He closed the space between them, and felt Charmer practically melt into him.

Fingers moved to tangle themselves in Charmer's long hair once he knew he had the man anchored to him- feeling the odd softness of his hair as some of it came loose from where it had been tied back. The long strands filled the spaces between his fingers, allowing Drummer Boy to softly curl them in, balling his hands in the mess of black as he pressed knuckles against Charmer's scalp. A subtle groan escaped the man at the gentle tug- something Drummer Boy would have to remember later.

He felt the way Charmer's hands pushed underneath him now, squeezed between his body and the thin bedding as fingers tangled in his jacket, as they pressed firm against the back of his ribs.

Drummer Boy felt Charmer shift slightly, felt the heavier press of his weight on top of him- felt the heat of Charmer's tongue as it melted into his mouth.

He could hear their shared breathing- staggered and taken in gasps when and where they could afford it.

It had been quite some time since he was last like this with someone else.

Even longer for Charmer though.

He felt the intensity of Charmer's fingers curled tight against his ribs, pressed against the soft meat between them, before they raked down along his back.

And almost immediately, Drummer Boy felt that scarred knot of skin turn to fire as Charmer pressed against it; two layers of clothing did little to stop the impression of fingernails scraping over the raw tissue. He felt the slight jerk of his body more than he heard the stammered half-breathed wheeze escape him. The pain was sharp, but quick, and barely lingered as more than a throbbing ache in his lower back. But he could feel the way his muscles spasmed across his lower back, spreading down to his hips, and pulling tight up along his spine.

"What is it? What is it?"

It was Charmer's quiet voice that pulled him back, drawing him to the man's worried, and confused expression above him.

(Just a few seconds, that was all it had lasted for).

"It's fine, I'm fine-" Drummer Boy started, a little surprised by the controlled calmness in his voice now. It had him wondering just how many types of situations he had been in where it was like instinct to keep his cool, to keep calm. Had him wondering if he had done the same with a fresh laser bullet lodged in his skin. Left him wondering just how many more situations could he continue to do it for, no matter the severity of the situation. "- the scar is still-"

He didn't get to finish his sentence, didn't get to finish assuring Charmer that things were okay.

The rest of his words were drowned out by a deep, throaty bellow in the distance.

One that made Drummer Boy's blood run cold as the bellow alone sent a heavy tremor throughout Ticonderoga, threatening to shake the building itself off of its cracked foundation. It shook the bed underneath them, forcing Charmer to go somewhat rigid above him at the sudden motion; the man's fingers curled tight into the bedding as the bed itself was moved a few inches away from the wall.

The desk next to them quaked in place, too heavy to move with metal foot studs.

Although the few books that had been carelessly stacked on the corner of the desk tumbled easily to the floor.

It reminded Drummer Boy of the subtle shaking from before, the one he had brushed off a little too quickly.

...

The shaking from before had to have been tremors caused by distant footsteps- very big footsteps.

Ones that weren't nearly far enough away now.

And the bellow- that godforsaken bellow-

Drummer Boy could see the mix of confusion and fear in Charmer's face, still only a few inches above his own. And he was pretty certain that his own face reflected back that exact expression; hell, he swore he could even feel the coldness from where all the blood had drained from his face.

"... What was that?"

Even in answer, he felt himself stammer slightly.

"Behemoth," Drummer Boy answered, feeling the building tremble all around them once more. He swore he could hear the fucking thing right outside, could hear the crunching of the asphalt and concrete underneath the creature's feet- hell, even hear its labored breathing. "Jesus, that thing has to be right next to us."

Already he could see the continuous confusion as Charmer furrowed his brow once more.

"What the fuck is a Behemoth?"

Drummer Boy started to question just how the hell Charmer had never encountered one before, before he stopped himself- before he realized that it was possible. Behemoths were rare to come across to begin with, and considering that Charmer hadn't been around here for too long, it was possible that he had been able to avoid them. Which, in itself was a miracle.

"Charmer, sweetheart, count your blessings," Drummer Boy replied, lightly patting the man on the cheek, which only seemed to confuse him further. "Behemoths-" another hefty tremor, and the crunching of what might've been a lamp post outside hinted that the creature was even closer now. "- They're really big Super Mutants, like colossal huge," he explained, cutting his voice almost to a whisper now. "Tom guesses they got to that size because of elongated exposure to the FEV virus, which means that they'd have to be the oldest of the Super Mutants. No idea on age, but guesses have been thrown around to a couple decades at least- maybe a century even. Don't know much about them other than that they're big, they're scary, and they're incredible dangerous."

His answer, on top of the continuous stomping outside, didn't seem to do much to assure Charmer that they were at all safe inside- in theory anyways.

"You mean there can be more than one of these things?" Charmer whispered, following suit in keeping his voice quiet.

He nodded, which didn't seem to comfort the man at all.

"Are these things... a common issue?"

It was a little hard to concentrate on the question as Drummer Boy felt Charmer push himself up onto his forearms to keep from crushing him- although their legs were still intermingled.

He could still feel the weight of Charmer's hips on his own too.

"Sort of- at least, around here they kind of are," Drummer Boy answered, flinching as the next set of footsteps rocketed through the building once more. He felt Charmer's fingers curl into the folds of his jacket now, and couldn't help but to wonder just how terrifying the idea of a Behemoth must've been to the man. After all, he highly, highly doubted they had anything remotely close to this in Charmer's timeframe. "They're not common during the cold spells though- most Super Mutants aren't anyways. I guess the FEV virus doesn't leave them with much protection from the cold, or maybe they're too stupid to get away from hyperthermia, I don't know."

"Where do they come from?"

"No telling," Drummer Boy replied. "You would think with something that big, we would know, but... sometimes it's like they just show up without warning. This one was probably drawn in overnight by you and Colada though- either by the commotion with the ghouls, or by your scent. Hard to say."

There was an obvious wrinkle that formed across the bridge of Charmer's nose, implying he wasn't all too thrilled by the answer.

"Great," he whispered, "so what do we do now?"

Now that was the question of the hour.

"We lay low until that thing leaves," Drummer Boy answered as best he could. "Everyone here knows what to do in case of a Behemoth sighting. We stay where we are, we stay quiet, and where it's safe until that thing clears the horizon. It might take a few hours though, sometimes Behemoths like to linger around and waste time. If it sticks around too long though, and starts to eat up our schedule, High-Rise might send someone out to serve as a decoy to lead it away. Dangerous, but usually effective- and Butcher always loves to volunteer."

"So... we stay here? As in right here?" Charmer asked.

He nodded in return. "Yeah, unfortunately. With how close it is right now, even so much as getting up might alert it. They're pretty stupid, but if something catches their attention, their first instinct is to start swinging that club. And believe me when I say we have lost a safe house or two to a Behemoth search party before."

"Perfect."

Drummer Boy chuckled lightly at the hint of annoyance in the man's voice. No doubt this whole situation was probably too sudden, and moving a little too quick for him right now. Being stuck like this was one thing, but having a Behemoth just outside was another. Didn't help that Charmer had never seen one to begin with, so all the man could do was take his word for everything he had said.

He moved to slowly brush aside some of Charmer's loose strands- gently tucking them behind the man's ear. Charmer seemed too focused on the next set of crunching sounds outside, a car this time maybe, to even notice the gesture.

"Alright, well... since I've got you where I want you," Charmer started, as he slowly turned his attention back to him, "let me ask you a question now."

And the man was already ready to move on.

"Sure," Drummer Boy replied, a little curious to see where this was going. "I obviously can't think of what kind of topic we could speak about while a Behemoth is raging outside, but if you've got one go for it."

A quiet chuckle escaped the man. "Okay, well, first off, you're a smart-ass, but I already knew this so I can't really complain about it," Charmer remarked. "But since you got to ask your obligatory awkward health question, I want to ask mine."

"This already sounds like a bad idea, but I'm curious."

"How long have you had the scar?"

Drummer Boy heard the question correctly, and it was a reasonable question considering he had given Charmer the same treatment earlier in regards to his leg.

Still, it felt like his head translated it out to be something different.

How long has it been since you got shot?

How long has it been since Switchboard?

Since all of those people died around you?

Do you still remember them?

Over and over again.

He could still feel the subtle throbbing in the hollow of his back from where Charmer's fingers had been- warm and curled against his skin, pressed tight and hot against scar tissue that felt like iron knots against the base of his spine.

"Eight months." The answer came to him quicker than Drummer Boy thought it would. Easier at least. "Got shot towards the end of May, and was mostly useless throughout June; I ended up with an infection halfway through the month, and spent a week battling a combination of nausea and dehydration."

"That's... that's not very long," Charmer noted.

"It's long enough for this kind of business," he reminded; he took one look at Charmer's barely masked concerned expression, and gave a brief sigh. "You just... caught me off-guard, is all. I didn't realize it was still that sensitive to touch- at least when someone else does it."

"I know all about that," Charmer replied, a quiet chuckle in his voice with the words, as one hand moved to his ribs; and Drummer Boy remembered how Charmer said he had gotten shot through the ribs after taking one to the leg- an unfair, unjust bullet.

Drummer Boy watched as Charmer looked to the half-boarded window above them, and wondered if the man was curious enough to take a look- hoping to catch a peek of this Behemoth. Curious maybe, but not curious enough to actually do so, at least for the sake of not drawing attention to them. Because he wasn't exaggerating when he said that he had seen the aftermath some Behemoths had on safe houses, and it wasn't pretty.

It didn't take long for Charmer to turn back to him though.

Didn't take long for a slight twitch on the corner of the man's lips to appear, before Charmer leaned back down to him.

Drummer Boy felt the teasing kiss Charmer placed on his lips, a little warm and firm- giving him a brief break from the Behemoth outside.

"Can I touch it again?" Charmer whispered, the words rolling over his own lips as they came out. "I promise I'll be gentle this time."

He contemplated the question, still feeling the odd sort of numbness that was now residing over the back of his hips.

He could still feel the heat and roughness of Charmer's fingers from before, could still feel the way they had curled against him- holding and clinging to him in the heat of the moment.

"Sure."

Drummer Boy felt Charmer move back down to him, felt the way his hands pushed underneath him once more.

They curled against his jacket at first, pushing against it, just barely pushing it up against his back- just enough for Charmer to slip his hands under. It was easy to feel the warmth of Charmer's fingers against his skin, to feel the slow way they scope out a path against his skin, causing the muscles of his lower back to twitch in response. He was breathing slow and steady against Charmer's lips, feeling the slight shudder than came with prodding fingertips.

It took a few seconds of exploration, of subtle kneading, before he felt Charmer's fingers slowly drift down to the scar.

Drummer Boy still felt the lingering sensitivity to the tissue- felt the tissue still soft and raw underneath Charmer's touch as the man slowly and carefully moved over the regrown tissue. He could feel the way it stretched and webbed underneath Charmer's fingertips, a mess of skin knotted and deformed by burnt tissue that had been scrubbed and scraped off by a steady hand.

"That's a hell of a scar," Charmer whispered.

"It looks a lot worse."

Drummer Boy felt Charmer at his neck once more, felt the soft heat of his lips and breath against his skin all over again.

It was pretty ridiculous that this was what they were choosing to do while a Behemoth stomped around outside. But as long as it kept them quiet, and out of the creature's attention span, it wasn't like they were hurting anyone. It was ridiculous, yes, but harmless.

It reminded him of how he had once thought it had been ridiculous the one time a Behemoth had stomped over by the North Church, dusting bone mill and dust over them while they laid quiet underground- and Desdemona opened a fresh bottle of Bourbon.

"Well it's not like it's going to get us, or we're going to get it," Desdemona spoke- quiet as the liquor she poured into a cracked drinking glass. "Might as well enjoy the solitude of it while we can. Now do you want some or not?"

"No use in arguing with her," Glory shrugged, almost too eager to take up the Railroad Alpha on the offer. "Might as well make a game of it too while we're at it. Take a shot for every time the big ugly makes a noise."

"We'll be dead by daylight."

Drummer Boy was drawn back by the more pressing touch of Charmer's lips against the subtle throbbing of his neck, the warmth of Charmer's mouth as he slowly pressed long, wet embraces against his skin.

"You should show it to me some time then."

Drummer Boy chucked lightly as hands and fingers moved to curl against the man's shoulders, feeling the weight of Heavy against him now. Feeling the looseness of Charmer's shirt between his fingers now, feeling the firm bone and muscle that resided under clothing and skin.

"We'll see, Charmer."


It was an hour, maybe longer, before the bellows and tremors left in a slow, bumbling mess.

Drummer Boy wasn't sure what the Behemoth was out here looking for, or if it was smart enough to know itself, but thankfully it didn't find whatever it was. And thankfully everyone in Ticonderoga had managed to keep their peace long enough to avoid detection. He was sure it was killing Butcher to not go running out there and kill the Behemoth herself- which would've been far too dangerous to do in such close proximity to the safe house.

But knowing Butcher, she might've still tried to risk it- unless someone here was having to hold her back.

Regardless, once Drummer Boy heard the sound of other footsteps in the hallway outside, he knew High-Rise had deemed it safe to move again. Man had the eyes of a hawk, and had no doubt watched the Behemoth lumber off in the distance; he had probably counted the minutes to make sure it didn't decide to turn around and come back too.

As much as he liked lying in bed with Charmer for a lazy morning, his body was stiff now, and desperately needed to move.

But at least Charmer seemed to feel the same way.

"Can we even take one of those things down- realistically?" Charmer questioned, sitting on the edge of the bed as he slipped his prosthetic leg back on. He wrestled some with the compression sock, but thankfully seemed to be having an easier time fitting his leg into the prosthetic cap- despite his worries from before about it. Charmer ran his hand over the cap, checked for pressure, before he pulled his protective legging back on.

Drummer Boy watched as the man stood up and tested his weight on the leg, before he deemed it satisfactory and pulled his pants leg back over it. "Yeah- it's difficult and it takes a lot of firepower, but it's possible. I mean, I've only heard the stories- and I saw one dead before, but that's the extent of what I know. If you want, when Rent gets back she can tell you about the time she saw a Behemoth take on a pack of Deathclaws."

"Uh... depends on which one won."

He couldn't help but to chuckle lightly at Charmer's hesitant response, before he moved to step out into the hallway. "Yeah, I'll let Rent tell you the ending to it. She'll love it, you'll love it. And you'll never want to go out into the desolate Commonwealth again."

"I didn't want to to begin with."

Making his way down the hallway, Drummer Boy heard the careful steps of Charmer behind him- heard the familiar sound of his prosthetic hitting the thin flooring. He made his way down the stairs, and dropped down into the lounge, where it seemed like everyone else had slowly began to nest together.

"As if the cold wasn't bad enough," Motherboard whispered, bundled on the couch with a blanket or two pulled on around her. The woman was hard to spot underneath the bundled mess, but just about everyone already knew who she was- and anyone who knew her within the Railroad all claimed that she could've been Dr. Amari's twin.

Even Drummer Boy had to admit that the two looked so similar in face and stature, even though they would both deny such proclamations; they almost insisted all too well that they looked nothing alike. Some agents were a little too convinced that Motherboard had to have been an escaped Synth designed to replace Dr. Amari in Goodneighbor- but such a claim was quick to earn the proclaimer a broken nose.

"I mean, at least we don't have to worry about Deathclaws knocking at the door, but come on- a Behemoth?" Motherboard continued. "What are the odds, and why are they always swinging against our favor?"

"Because only a Behemoth could fuck with us at this point," Butcher assured, standing behind Motherboard on the other side of the couch. Butcher's hands were quick to catch the woman by the shoulders as she gave Motherboard a slow shake- much to her distaste. Her words were somewhat of a boast, which everyone knew well enough was bullshit- but it was a nice thought. "Now then, when are you going to release me out into the wild to fuck that thing up, High-Rise?"

It never took Butcher long to get into the spirit of the hunt.

High-Rise himself was just coming back up from the stairwell, no doubt having gone out to survey that the Behemoth had, in fact, gotten a safe distance away from them.

"Well, funny enough, Butch, this was the exact reason that I called Charmer up here," High-Rise started, dusting his hands off on his jeans. "There had been a few reports here or there of evidence of a Behemoth in the area, and I figured a quick look around would find the big guy. I just wasn't expecting the damn thing to show up on my doorstep though. And now, to make matters just a little worse, Rent just called in a few minutes ago and said that there was a second Behemoth headed this way too."

Another one?

One Behemoth was rare enough on it's own, but two?

"You gotta be shitting me," Drummer Boy remarked, hitting the bottom of the staircase before he walked into the lounging area.

"I wish I was."

"So what, it's just more to go around then," Butcher replied, releasing Motherboard for now, much to the woman's relief, before she stepped around the couch to cut Charmer off. "Alright Charmer, you and Colada battled up some ghouls the night before, so I think it's my turn now to give you the runaround. What do you say you and I top off Colada with a couple of Behemoths?"

Why was it that something always had to come up just to drag Charmer off?

Drummer Boy knew that it came with the job, that it came with the Railroad- that he should be used to it by now, and yet.

Then again, he guessed that the two of them had already gotten the morning off together, and that was really more than they could ask for- or at least, more than they had gotten in the past month or so.

"I uh... well I've never seen a Behemoth before, let alone encountered one, but yeah sure, I'm up for it," Charmer spoke.

The man's confidence in himself didn't exactly stir up any assurance amongst the crowd.

"We've all seen them, but hardly anyone goes up against them," MockingBird spoke, seated at the couch across from Motherboard; the woman was polishing down what looked to be a rifle- and a new one at that. She always had a knack for finding the good stuff. "It's not exactly the smartest thing to do, but some of us are stupid enough to go after them willingly."

There was a slight pause in the room at the jabbed remark.

"I can't argue that," Butcher admitted, raising her hands up in the moment of defeat before she clapped them together- shaking the remark off all too easy. "Alright, so if High-Rise here is done pussyfooting around, here's the rundown of it: MockingBird and White Tide will run interference, and pull this Behemoth away from here- hopefully far away. Charmer and myself will run offense and take this big guy out."

"Rent thinks that she can pull the second Behemoth away, and bring it towards Colada since they're both heading back now," High-Rise interrupted. "It'll be tight for them, but they're not too far out from here, so when you're done running interference with Butcher, can you provide assistance, MockingBird?"

MockingBird gave a nod and set her polishing equipment aside. "Yeah, I think I know where Rent's gonna run- there's that old Red Rocket Station not too far from here she likes to hide at. If she's gonna bring the devil to Colada, she's gonna run through there first," the woman nodded. "Not to mention, it's not gonna be too hard to spot a Behemoth on the horizon. If it's out there, I'll find it- and Rent's gonna make it's ass bounce caps."

"Well there we go then- easy in, easy out," Butcher spoke. "The roads are still pretty icy out, so it should be easy to get the dumb fuckers to slip and fall, which will make this whole thing a lot easier for us to pull off. It might not break a leg or anything, but a Behemoth is not going to get up with ease, and it'll be easier for us to take a few good whacks at its head while it's down."

Again, they were making plans ahead of themselves.

"Just remember that it'll be easy for you guys to do the same," Drummer Boy reminded, unsure of how that one fact seemed to keep slipping everyone's mind. He knew that if Carrington was here, he'd be giving everyone hell for forgetting about it. God knows the man had patched up enough broken wrists and bruised tailbones to never let anyone else hear the end of it. Not to mention, it was quite possible to cut one's self on some ice- and having blood exposed in this kind of environment was not a good idea. "And breaking your own leg is only going to make it that much easier for the Behemoth as well."

He could see a few of the agents nod with a point well made.

Again, not a hard point to make, but a difficult one to remember with this crowd.

"You want to come along for the fun?" Butcher offered- even though he knew she damn well knew the answer.

"No thanks- I don't like Super Mutants enough as they are, let alone the big ones," Drummer Boy replied. "If this is the plan you guys are going to go with, then just be careful and come back alive, yeah? I don't want to be the one who has to go back and report all of this back to Dez. Because I don't want to have to explain why everyone thought it would be a good idea to run out onto fresh ice to piss off some Behemoths. I mean, it's necessary, but if we lose six agents because of it, I'm not sure Dez will see it the same way."

"Oh we'll be fine," the woman assured, waving his remark off. "Now come on, let's get together and head out before those two Behemoths decide to team up and come back for us."

Now that was a terrifying thought.

"Alright, well, everyone knows the drill then, so let's get to it," High-Rise announced. "White Tide, when you're through running distraction for Butcher and Charmer, you're all the more welcome to be a third gun; if not, then I want you back here as soon as possible."

The mute man nodded as he wrestled himself into a secondary jacket.

"I'll be keeping an eye out here just in case something else decides to show up. Motherboard is watching the Synths, and she's ready to run evac if it's necessary to. I doubt we'll be under much pressure here, but if things go horribly wrong somehow, Drummer Boy, you're calling the shots for HQ, alright?" High-Rise spoke.

"Understood- but be careful with that request, High-Rise- you know how much Dez hates this place," Drummer Boy remarked, teasing the man about his waning on-again, off-again professional relationship with Desdemona. The two didn't hate each other, but they sure as hell loved grinding on one another's nerves; they were both too stubborn for their own good, and being around each other only made their stubbornness worse.

"Dez loves this place."

With a new, questionable, plan in action, everyone split up to get their things together and to get ready for the would-be brawl.

They had all just barely had time to sit down and get their own arrangements in regards to the Railroad underway, and now they had to deal with this. At this point, it would probably be theorized that the Institute had sent these Behemoths to them just to set them back and to keep the Railroad off of their trail. A ridiculous theory, but one that Drummer Boy was certain that Tom could make heads of.

Once more though, he found himself back in their shared room, watching as Charmer got ready to set out again.

"You're still pretty cold from the last time you went out," Drummer Boy remarked, watching as Charmer slipped into a spare jacket that High-Rise had sitting around. The man's former jackets were still hanging up to dry, which was a testament to just how short of a time it had been since he was last out. Thankfully High-Rise had a knack of keeping extra supplies around for situations like this- well, mostly for situations where they booked too many agents at one time.

"I wouldn't say so," Charmer replied as he hastily buttoned the jacket as far up as it would go, in which case it just barely covered his neck. "I had a pretty heater to warm me up after all."

Drummer Boy chuckled lightly and shook his head at the teased remark. "Come here," he started, reaching out to readjust the jacket's short neckline, before he pulled the collar of Charmer's shirt over it- at least to compensate in some way or form. Readjusting the jacket around Charmer's shoulders next, Drummer Boy used the motion to pull the man down to him- brushing a subtle kiss against Charmer's jaw. "Stay safe, okay? And just as a heads up, Behemoths will swing relentlessly when they're angry, and they can, and will, throw boulders at you. Both should be easy to avoid, but don't try to find safety inside- they can easily bring a building down on top of you."

"I'll try, but no promises," Charmer remarked, turning enough to catch him by the lips- a subtle grin pressing against Drummer Boy now. "I also can't promise that I'll be able to outrun that thing either."

"I never should have introduced you to Colada, or Butcher."

"Hm, jealous, are we?" the man teased.

"Hardly," Drummer Boy replied, hearing the man chuckle in response. "It just seems like you get a kick out of... making things worrisome." He wanted to say that Charmer had a knack for making him worry, but that was what Charmer's job was. One would think that he had gotten used to it, and he had before, but now... Now that things were different between them, it made everything different.

It was a double-edge knife here; it was both good and bad.

Regardless, it only seemed to fuel Charmer's ego.

"Come here," the man whispered, one arm catching Drummer Boy around the waist before Charmer kissed him lightly once more- nothing more than subtle brushes, and warm contact. "If it means keeping you safe, than I gotta do this," he started. "I can't let some goliath asshole out there think that he can just use this place as his stomping grounds. And I can't let anything bad happen before I get to see that scar of yours."

Drummer Boy cupped his hand over Charmer's mouth, and lightly pushed his head aside.

"You're worthless, Charmer."