Xenotober 2024 25 Desperate (Izzy Weis, Frye)

a/n: Shortly after the crash, Frye and Izzy became friends. It didn't happen as fast as it could, for reasons. Izzy isn't a Cross, just a geologist with a big sword.

Izzy had a friend on the Whale. They liked to go out to eat together. Izzy was the driving force. He was the one who had all the contacts and knew when there was a unregulated restaurant opening in any part of the crew area, and he arrived at every first night with a crowd. Izzy loved inviting lots of friends, a real squeeze as too many people crowded around a flimsy table in an unguarded storeroom. Izzy said it was for the company, for the chance to try ALL the appetizers.

And to be smooshed up against Jimmy. Izzy's hand on Jimmy's leg, hip to hip, he only had to turn his head to plant a kiss on his ear, no leaning required.

Both Jimmy and Izzy made it to Mira, but Harriers lost a lot of people that first month.

After that Izzy still went out whenever he could round up a group, but he kept his hands on top of the table.

He knew it was important to keep doing the things that you love, even when your heart is broken. He reminded himself that it was just temporary, that Jimmy would be restored when they got the Lifehold, and that Jimmy was a good enough soldier that they'd restore him right away. They'd need good soldiers for a while. Izzy worried that the longer it took, the further back Jimmy would get on the list; you'd want soldiers that are most up to date first, naturally, but maybe Izzy could put in a special request?

Like the ECP would be sentimental and care about a geologist's broken heart.

Meanwhile, Izzy hit the restaurants, taking his whole team. Grabbing anyone else at the division HQ. He fed a lot of Prospectors. Even better was when he had been attached to a mixed team. Those nights he could clear out several hangouts, get a real crowd around the table, all talking different shit. He'd done a little matchmaking too, professionally, for hobbies and special interests, maybe a little romance but that's not as interesting. He wasn't above it, mind you, but that kind of thing doesn't get you more conversation.

Never for himself. He wasn't that desperate for comfort.

He always picked up the check. Let other people shoot him some credits or not. Preferably not. This was why he was chronically short on credits, but that's what running missions was for, right? He wasn't trying to buy friendship, absolutely not. He was not buying his way out of loneliness. He wasn't spending his way into respect or a mentor role or whatnot. He was just a guy that preferred not to worry about how the meal ended. He paid, end of story.

(He was forgetting what Jimmy looked like. Too many mims around the city with about the same face, about the same eyes. He remembered only pieces, mostly how it felt. Jimmy's regrettable five o'clock shadow. The way his voice fluttered just below Izzy's shoulder blades. They way he'd lean into Izzy as he reached out to pay the check. Izzy couldn't bear to see someone else stretch out their arm, dip their hand for the tablet, make that gesture, and for it not to be Jimmy. So Izzy paid.)

Early on Mira, but not that early, Izzy and Frye washed up in the Interceptors' division tent at the same time. Izzy was queasy from too much pizza, too late at night, too much conversation. He'd be fine for a mission, but he knew it should be nothing too challenging for body or mind. He needed the fast credits, because he planned to do it all over again, the food, the crowd, the wall against going back to his empty room.

Easy, brainless, fast. Hence, jumping on an Interceptor heavy mission. Prospector missions gave Izzy too much time to think, when he could think.

Frye was, well, Frye.

Frye was queasy in the way that only Frye can manage. A mephite had died to provide his latest hangover. Several mephites. The pay had been good, converted to a whole lot of vodka in one easy transaction, but somehow the stench had lingered. Or so it seemed, judging by the film coating his mouth.

He was sucking on an anti-hangover augment. He insisted to his fellow drinkers that this was the best way to get relief. "Fast release, my ass," he always said. "At least take a few licks, to make sure you haven't gotten your hands on a bad one." Not all augments were legit, especially at the start, when resources were scraped thin all across NLA. Some of them came from questionable sources, with questionable results. Sugar augments were one thing, dangerous enough in the sense that a guy could go out unimproved and still under the weather. There were worse versions, ones that could result in a quick trip to the mim center. He'd seen it with another guy.

Izzy and Frye knew each other in passing (the Repenta had food as well as alcohol). At least Izzy knew of Frye, and he recognized the dangers involved in getting to know him better. It was hard to miss the brassy laugh on the edge of the parking lot, the icy crew cut as Frye plowed past the Prospectors' Hangout without a glance. Izzy had also heard the almost imperceptible sigh of a teammate as tall and blonde as Frye but washed out from teary regret. Izzy knew why Frye wasn't welcome in the Repenta. Izzy had decided to keep a defensible space between himself and a man that was so obviously a liability to the people around him.

That gap was narrowing today. They were both in a hurry to get out of NLA for their own reasons, but only on easy missions that wouldn't end in disaster for sub-optimal mimeosomes.

Izzy was prepared enough. He had good gear, he was a heavy enough hitter that Harriers sometimes tapped him, and he had a good memory for environmental advantages. More importantly, he had his special brew. He stood there, thermos in hand, full of a bitter tea that turned spicy just before you swallowed. He poured himself a mug, sipped, swallowed, nodded at Frye.

Frye nodded in return, reconsidered, groaned and held his head very carefully. He crunched the augment. Today he could use all the help.

"Want some?" asked Izzy. He could relax the rules enough to share a drink, especially if it meant a teammate was in better shape to handle a mission. Izzy refilled his mug and offered it, clean rim facing towards Frye.

Frye reached out, but his hand was inaccurate. Izzy grasped Frye's hand and guided his fingers around the mug. He followed Frye's hand, stepping closer so the tea wouldn't spill. Izzy released the pressure gradually, slowly, making sure that Frye was able to take the slight weight, then hovered in case more help was needed.

Frye sipped, then drained the mug. He winced as his head tipped back, but he didn't stop until the mug was empty. He didn't return the mug immediately, holding it close to his chest to absorb the last bit of warmth. "Thanks. My head should clear in half a minute."

Izzy never ever fell for Frye, but in that moment he felt it was a very very close miss.

a/n: That last sentence might be untrue. An older piece that I cleaned up, so please excuse any remaining tense shifts. Izzy shows up in Leaning, and initially in Secret Santa with Frye and HB.

Next up: No idea.