I have returned! It's been a super long time for multiple reasons, including lack of motivation and so on. BUT, I'm glad to be back, and we'll dive right back to where we were : )
"I'm changing the settings so move your ass!" Daniel snarled as he roughly slammed the buttons on the treadmill. Its user huffing out a pained nod and kicked up his gait.
The blonde watched with pointed observance, keeping quiet for the moment as the steady beeping of a heart monitor merged into the jumble of sounds that come with a typical gym. "C'mon Colt don't be a pansy," Daniel sneered with a sadistic glee as his partner faltered in what had been a constant sprint, sending a hateful glare towards his partner.
"Fuck off I've been doing this twenty minutes longer-than last week!" The green eyed male heaved and coughed between his words, casting daggers in Daniel's direction. Daniel merely shrugged off the hollow stares knowing he was all talk and no action.
Suddenly, the Templar got a deliciously evil idea.
His right arm short out, smacking at Damon and making him stumble a few steps, watching as the brunette succeeded in thwarting what would've been a disaster.
"Agh! You-"
"What's wrong Colt? Can't focus on more than one task?" Daniel jeered and attempted to swipe under Damon a second time, getting bumped away by his target's hip. "Stop it goddamn it!"
"Agility is key!" Daniel mocked the younger man and shifted tactics, this time kicking down at the ankle closest to him. Damon caught the shadows in his peripheral vision, gritting his teeth and stunning both Daniel and himself as he leaped over the foot and caught himself on the rabidly moving rubber. The narrow smirk cracked the side of his lips as his back straightened and chest shot out.
Not bad...Daniel mused in silence. But one good move didn't equate to shit.
Daniel decided to continue tormenting his companion, swiping and kicking at his legs, the two bickering and jibing at one another which earned the pair eye rolls from the others in the vicinity.
"Once I get off this thing you're so dead!"
"Oh I'm SO scared Colt." He taunted, slapping the upward arrow button with his index finger increasing the speed from 4.0 to 5.0 mph all the while ducking and averting the angry sloppy strikes assaulting him from the right. Daniel laughed at the looks of dread coming across the other's face. Color drained like water in a sink as the numbers climbed steadily to their goal. But the speed was too much too fast for Damon's recovering skills. His heart was hammering erratically against its bony cage, desperate to keep up with the demands of machine and flesh alike. Breathing was a struggle with each inhale and exhale. If Damon didn't stop or slow down he was going to vomit, collapse, or do both. His stomach and legs were beginning to knot as muscle cramped from absence of water or any means of hydration.
Daniel snickered as his partner clung to the handrails, warring against the mindless machine. Too bad he didn't see the glint of ferocity that ignited in the gentle emerald.
When he does, it's too late. He watches with genuine surprise as Damon curled his hands tighter on the rails of the machine, willing his shaking body upwards with every fiber and thread that existed in his chest, arms, and shoulders, knowing it was adrenaline that kept him moving. His legs shot up and off off the crazy train, finding sanctuary on either side of the track. His feet landed with a solid thud, making patrons freeze and turn around in curiosity. They weren't disappointed as Damon, who was trembling with violent fervor from head to toe, made his final bid for freedom. The lithe form catapulted off the hellish device, landing in a crouch.
"See! You didn't die Colt! God you're such a drama queen!"
"You're fucked now!" The other growled and lunged for the blonde, the two slamming into the mats and starting a violent bout of bickering tied with lazily aimed punches and wrestling.
"You hit like a girl Colt! Seriously that's the best you have?!" Daniel maneuvered one leg in the gap between their torsos with the other positioning heel into hip. Damon felt the gasp leaving his lips along with the air in his lungs as the brief flip up and down landed his body backside into mat and head bouncing up then down.
Victory was one arm bar away for Daniel until a throat being loudly cleared made him pause and look up to the tired aged eyes of Dr. Swartz. Oh yeah, Damon had his examination. The latter seizes the the opportunity that opened up to grapple the back of Daniel's shirt, using both their weights to flip the large blonde and smack him into the mat onto his back, keeping his knuckles on his windpipe and the other pressing harshly into his midsection. "I win."
"Bull shit, I would've whooped your ass if Swartz hadn't-" The man mentioned steps forward and sets a firm hand on Damon's shoulder, cutting into Daniel's outrage.
"Who won or not does not matter at the moment. Mein Sohn, we have a few things to check out. Come." The elder asserted his request in an authoritative but even voice and affectionately patted his patient's head like a child's, making an exit towards the door.
"We'll save your dignity later." The younger Templar warned with a joking tongue which was followed with an abrupt shove to the blonde's face before following the scientist out of the gym.
"Fucker," Daniel cursed beneath his breath.
OoO
"Ah…" Donovan hums calmly as he straps the wires and medical pads to Damon, intricately making sure every single one is exactly where it's needed. "I see your workouts are going swimmingly." The aged male sends a look of light scolding to the Templar, a sheepish grinning coming across the young man's face. He huffs and lightly smacks a tanned cheek, rolling his eyes when it pulls a small laugh from the hooked up man.
He moves to his array of switches and monitors, glancing at the taller. "This session will be short. You have much more training for the day."
"Got it." Damon sighed expectantly.
And with that Swartz flipped the switch to bringing the complex machinery to life. Damon initiated the routine with his breathing exorcises without any prompt from either men. Within moments, results materialized onto the scientist's monitor, Damon shut his eyes as he slipped into the machinations of breathing, motion, and thought. With each test he completed, a new one appeared for him to perform. It had been weeks since the shooting range incident. His blood tests no longer required on a frequent basis and his medications were reduced. He continued to require physical therapy though the sessions also shortened as his body grew accustomed to the harsh demands of his oh so lovely personal trainer, otherwise known as Daniel Cross.
Granted, he had been exceptionally strong before the shooting range, but now he was nearing the levels of the other veterans, winning more sparring matches with Daniel. whose ego had been chipped away like a pickaxe to granite, and a plethora of other activities. It was a great change of pace for him, the brooding doubt of his allies slowly trickling into the back of his mind and Daniel's hostility more or less reduced to 'friendly' bouts of anger.
Still they're far from friends. Daniel had stated so long ago that things would probably never be exactly the same. There was no way. Because you can't repeat history.
Yet, both males have put a surprising amount of effort into reconnecting as of late. Damon has learned quite a bit courtesy of his companion. Like the man's disgustingly large tolerance of heat in his food, drowning nearly every savory product he consumed in of all things Tabasco sauce. Not to mention his random occurrences of spacing out that led to him wandering aimlessly and muttering in a language Damon hasn't been able to narrow into any coherent dialect or tongue. But he's learned from Swartz's gentle warnings and the frequent dodging of the others in the office, it's best to let those episodes pass without question.
His curiosity over the other was as ferocious as always, their new found truce making it easier to speak to the blonde without fear of getting his head bitten off. Well, less likeness to at least…
Shit. He hisses in his thoughts and opens his eyes in a frown. Here he was again. Thinking about Cross again as if he were a puzzle.
He was though wasn't he? Even in their fresh tolerance of each other, the man was still a blank slate; his past, his intentions, his life was completely in the dark to Damon. Maybe he wanted to keep it that way. For what reasons, he didn't know. Perhaps he didn't want to know.
"Alright…heart rate is steady; muscle generation is slowing due to consistency. I'll have to suggest randomizing your schedule to Cross. Blood pressure stable…" Swartz goes on reading and commenting Damon's results as always, marking things he considers out of place and muttering to himself about changes needed to his recovery.
"Mein Sohn, are you alright?" Damon's tugged from his thoughts at the sound of Swartz' voice, focusing on the elder. Deep trails creased at the corners of his eyes indicating concern.
"Mm? Oh, yeah! I'm fine." He was hasty to dismiss the elder's worry.
"You seem a bit disconnected…" He shrugs the growing anxiousness in his friends voice, smiling with gentle reassurance.
"Just spacin' out, Doc. It's nothing." The scientist allowed himself to relax but albeit shortly as the doctor's brow furrowed into heavy creases. He placed a soft but firm hand on his experiment's shoulder. The two maintained eye contact as he starts to speak, his German accent adding gruffness to the gentle words.
"Please never refrain from telling me anything, Mein Sohn. I am here purely for you, and will listen to any concerns you have." Damon opens his mouth to reassure, closing it slowly at the genuine concern in his caretaker's eyes.
"I…okay." The German nods and pats his chest before pulling away to scan and send the results to Rikkin and his medical team, leaving his patient to slip his shirt back over his head.
"Ah, I have something for you, Mein Sohn!" The aged man perked up and points a finger upwards, going to his disaster of a desk to dig through a drawer. The younger can't help but laugh as he pulls out a green orb attached to a stick. "No way!" Swartz chuckles and hands the newly brightened template the sugary treat.
"You are always a pleasant patient." Swartz feels a pang in his chest at the massive grin on the resurrected man, watching him unwrap the sucker and stick it in his mouth, amusement and appreciation flickering in his green orbs.
"Fanks." He says past the hardened sugar. Such a child. It reminded him of his son….he shakes himself of the heart and chuckles tugging on the stick. "Hide that from Cross. You are not supposed to have sugar in your diet." Damon winks grinning through the white stick, laughing as Swartz playfully pushes him to the exit.
"See ya later Doc."
"Yes, Yes. Off you go." He sighs and watches him go on his merry way, the pangs in his chest continuing. Aye, that boy was going to be the death of him.
OoO
As Donovan asked, Damon ate his sucker in the isolation of a relatively empty corridor, sitting in the window sill and watching the clouds outside shift and birds fly across his view. He felt tension leak from his body at the tranquility of the moment. This was the greatest amount of ease he had felt outside of Swartz' lab since his awakening, the hum of the building just barely audible, the sugary sweetness of his candy occupying his mind from anxiety rung thoughts.
This was really relaxing-
Then a heavy mass lands into his lap and jerks him from his peace, making him nearly choke on his sucker. "What the hell!?" He turns his outburst to a smirking Daniel, the source of said heavy mass that pinned him to the sill.
"Didn't break your leg, did I?"
"Almost did you fat ass." He snips before anything else. He should ask why the man did that and nearly killed him. The oh-so familiar and satanic grin crosses his partners face as he gets up from nearly crushing the others' legs. "Figured I'd find you here. Guess who wants to talk to you."
"Rikkin…" He exhaled depressingly and crunched on the last of his candy. The latter wiggles his finger as he threw a snarky retort. "Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner. Before you ask, I know diddly-squat what it's over. "
"Great." Damon deadpans and proceeds to haul his ass from the spot. He had enjoyed the solitude; while it lasted. "You coming with me this time too, or is this a private session?"
"The fuck if I know. I still have to escort you, lil' princess," Daniel sneered and jabbed him hard in the ribs with his index fingers, receiving a grunt from his target and a harsher retaliation of a fist to the shoulder. This kick started a continuation of back and forth smacks and punches, the two growling like a pair of territorial teenagers. It took the scolding of a passing superior to get them to abate, Daniel shoving Damon by his shoulder towards the office from their last visit with upper management.
He was booted inside, literally, and was rubbing his constantly abused buttocks just as Rikkin fuzzed onto the screen, ring clad hands folded together in the ever composed manner of an esteemed corporate owner.
"Ah, good to see you boys again." He greets with overly done glee in his voice. "I see Mr. Colt has grown accustomed to things." The two shrug and Daniel speaks up, never having patience for the small talk.
"What is it, Rikkin?" A flash of contempt appears in his bosses eyes, vanishing before the still naïve rookie can sense the change, chuckling.
"Ah Daniel, always so ready to get to the point. If you must know, I've decided it's time to send Damon into the field. Not as a recon or anything of that sort. More of…an investigator." Daniel stabbed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, jutting his hip and crossing his arms.
"Have you gotten consent from little ol' Swartz?" He practically coos in a bitter fashion, knowing damn well management up is yet again dodging the over protective professor. At the mention of the senior member, Damon perks, pausing at the mix of words.
"Oh…Donovan wouldn't like that at all." He chided in a light taunt. And sure enough, Rikkin gave a long pause at the name, both his employees watching him waiting for some kind of response.
"Ah…yes, Doctor Swartz. I will consult with him on this plan, but he will be pleased to know this shouldn't trigger any sort of traumatic reaction out of Mr. Colt."
The bitter blond scoffed but nodded in acquiescence, Damon looking at him in confusion before back at the heavy set man. "Yeah well, technically without Swartz' consent, Princess here is goin' nowhere." Daniel swipes his hand to the side, maybe/maybe not accidentally smacking said princess in the cheek, getting a sharp punch to the arm in reaction.
Rikkin observed them exchange dirty looks and hand signals before clearing his throat. "Either way; Damon, you will be joining Cross if I can get Doctor Swartz…'consent.'"
"Why does that not surprise me?" The other groaned loudly and elbows his line of responsibility, Rikkin now seemed less welcoming then when they entered.
"Carry on with your work gentlemen. I'll try to get on Swartz's good side." Daniel didn't try to mask his contempt at the declaration and snagged Damon by the back of his shirt, tugging the sputtering man out the door as he himself salutes the other with an extra tone of sass. "Whatever gets your wheels turnin'."
Neither notice the frown etched into the larger males' face, their voices fading away in a barrage of bickering once again.
OoO
The next day Damon is on the roof, back against the hard concrete as he gazes up at the clear sky. It was yet again another uneventful day. Swartz seemed a bit riffed, but he had a feeling it was due to Rikkin's plans. The lankly doctor never said anything directly, his hands still has accurate and careful always. But he had a heavy cloud of anger over his head that was clearly not pointed towards Damon.
Still, it was pretty obvious. And he was certain there were no on field trips for him any time soon.
Oh well…' he thinks and rests his arms behind his head, closing his eyes against a soft breeze soothing his mind.
Sadly his peace doesn't last long. It never seems to.
He sputters and curses as squirts of water-at least he hoped that's what it was-splash against his face and into his eyes, making him sit up in haste to dry his face. "Agh-what the f-"
"Up." The voice barked. Daniel. Of course it was him. Honestly no one else besides him and Swartz bothered to seek him out. He obeys and blinks mournfully at his burning corneas, still rubbing pathetically.
"What the hell was that for?!" He practically whines blinking until the blur in front of him indeed becomes the denim clad blonde.
"We're going out. Get your shit together." He pauses. "Did Swartz give the okay-" "Hell no, he threw a world class bitch fit. But I'm craving some serious shit and sick of the cafeteria's slew." "Aanndd what does that have to do with me?"
"You're coming with me." Damon stops wiping the remnants of water from his face, looking at Daniel for a long moment. He wasn't sure why those words threw him off so harshly. They've eaten together before, they've trained together. Hell, he's spent more time with Daniel than even Swartz at this point. But ever since the shooting range…
He's felt on edge being outside the facility. There are even some parts he hasn't dared to venture.
"Helloooo, earth to Colt. Where'd you go?" Daniel waves his gloved hand obnoxiously in front of Damon's face, breaking the other out of his stupor. "Look yes or no gimme an answer I'm starving."
He watched the other flap like a fish for a long moment before rolling his eyes and grabbing the front of his shirt. "Just come on." And just like that he's dragged down the stairs out towards the main exit.
"So where we going?" Damon asks and swallows in anxiety as Daniel swerves out of reverse and switches to drive, actually cruising through the parking lot. Calm. Breathe.
"Dunno yet." The other comments casually, cutting into routine traffic and Damon clutches his chest trying to keep himself calm.
"…"
"Hungry for anything specific?" the driver prompts after a moment, his hunger leaving finickiness as not an option. "Uh…"
"Look if you're hankering fast food just tell me, this may be another country but they aren't shy on their Mcdonalds." Damon looks at the road before shrugging. "You pick."
The look Daniel gives him seems…off. And it takes him a moment to realize this is the most normal conversation they've had. Almost- domestic. Friendly. But Daniel says nothing. No jibe, no sneer or even a conceding laughing his partner's newly found docility. He just nods and scans the roads, flipping off a few honking drivers before stopping at a deli like shop.
He looks at Daniel in surprise that the gruff man would like such a…quaint place. Still, neither say anything and exit the car, Damon following him to the door and a small bell giving a tiny ring as they enter, the scent of cooked meat and spices making a wave of hunger come over Damon from its familiarity.
"Ah, welcome! I remember your face!" A burly man greets and grins pointing a thick finger at Daniel; who smirks and winks.
"What can I say, you feed me well." He answers in the same language, Damon incapable of understanding the thicker man's guffaw.
"Since you seem so trusting to me, you can let me order." Daniel grins and Damon feels a spike of anxiousness. The man at the desk nods at Daniel's fluent words, pointing to letters scrawled across the boards until the man salutes as he goes into the back, shouting their order to the clanging kitchen.
It wasn't until later in front of a steaming plate of assorted meats and thick creamy side dishes that Damon looked up at Daniel, watching him scarf his thick portion of meat combined with creamy potatoes, along with other small tasting items the man offered them.
"You should teach me to speak that." Daniel stops mid bite to look at him in some sort of mixture of snark and confusion. "Whut?"
"Italian…or is it French?" Damon ponders lightly to himself and twirls his fork before piercing his leg of lamb. Daniel's chewing slows and seems to study him for a long moment. "Why?"
"I'm not going to get anyway here making hand motions at locals." He reasons, though his impulsive request honestly has no motive to himself. He just... Finds it fascinating. Daniel grunts at the point made, shoving another stifling mouthful of his strange combination into his mouth and chews before swallowing almost harshly and speaking. "Fine Princess. Let's start simple." Whoa, just like that? This seemed a bit out of character.
"You're not gonna tell me I have no reason or something…?" Damon trails off, shutting his mouth at the look in Daniel's eyes.
"Bonjour." The blonde says slowly, making extra effort to roll his tongue. Damon rolls his eyes.
"I know that much asshole. I went to school." He sasses and kicks the other not so subtly under the table and earns a stomp to the foot.
"Fine smartypants, try this: quel est votre nom?" Okay now he's stumped…
"What is your name."
"Oh…" Daniel scoffs and takes another bite of his food. "Look-it's not something you can learn in a day." Damon frowns at his tone. "I know that. It just depends if your cranky ass is willing to actually go through. I'm willing."
"Pushy much."
"Oh go suck a-" He can't finish the sentence as Daniel shoves of all things a roll in his mouth and grins with that satanic tint as Damon tries to curse at him through the pastry. And that was the end of that conversation…
Soon enough they were finished with their meal, Daniel paying the man with a surprisingly charming grin and a thanks in French. The two fell in a conversation and Damon grew tired of deeply examining the hand painted pieces of art on the wall, figuring he'd just wait for Daniel in the car. But as he turns he bumps into another person and grunts, turning to the man an apology on his tongue.
"Ah-sorry-" His voice vanishes at the look the man is giving him, honey brown eyes wide behind black wire frame glasses. His face…it seemed kind of-
He can't finish his thought as Daniel boots him in the ass yet again still nearly shouting his conversation at the other male and waving farewell, leaving Damon in a daze at the familiarity of that man's face. The expression had been so aghast, as if Damon were some kind of ghost. The thoughts soon leave Damon as Daniel's hand comes to flick and tug at his ear to get him out of his stupor, starting another punch off on their way to the car.
Neither notice the sharp inhale the ginger takes and blinks in disbelief at himself.
He could have sworn he just saw a dead man.
WOW SUCH PLOTWIST CAN YOU GUESS WHO THAT WAS. I'm not really sure where I was taking this, you could call it a filler for the real stuff/ me warming back up to the story. EITHER WAY, hope you enjoy and look forward to frequent updates once again ;)))