10: Junction

"Really? You think Wash is gonna like him more than Nelson? They're both gonna hate him!"

Samael tried not to laugh, securing his bottle in one hand as he threw his other arm around Robin's shoulders. "Aw, listen! Mama's crazy, but last thing she wants is someone else on the roster who's makin' as much noise as me!"

"Yeah, but Wash can't stand you roughnecks," Morris shot back with a playful smirk at Samael. "And he's kind of got a point, too -- count on one hand who's got proper military training at Sidewinder other than Nelson and O'Neill."

Samael's cheeks puffed out as he lifted one finger from the beer bottle. "Ay, our sexy li'l computer nerd came from the Blues!"

Morris squinted and then grinned toothily. "The chubby guy who was here last week to look at the tech closet? That guy? Sammy, please."

"He c'n shoot!"

"When's the last time he pulled a trigger that wasn't attached to your dick??"

Aslan nearly choked on his beer as Y'vonne broke into raucous laughter. Samael huffed but couldn't hide his own grin. "Aw, c'mon, y'all know Nelson...like she's gonna let anyone operate under her roof who ain't hittin' the range on the regular..."

"Mhmm." Morris chortled and guzzled from his bottle before sliding his eyes back to Robin. "You like following orders, Red?"

Robin arched an eyebrow as he swirled what remained of his own drink. It was enough of a response for Morris, who fired a victorious look back at Samael. "See?"

"C'mon, yer actin' like Mama's o'er here lettin' us run 'round crazy!" Samael complained. "Tell me with a straight face the last time Nelson let anyone off the hook fer goin' off-script, me included!" He pouted and drained the last of his bottle. "All I'm sayin' is that Wash gonna appreciate havin' someone else he can send out to balance the teams."

Morris smiled bemusedly at Robin. "And all I'm saying is that Red here only seems to play nice with his team when he's knee-deep in a fight." Robin looked back at him with a muted expression as Morris inclined his head slightly. "I was right, too. You got moves. Two of you handled those guards damn well. And Hexagon boys aren't lightweights."

Flattery didn't do much for Robin, but Samael's boisterous laugh remained the most contagious thing in the room. A tiny smile crept along his maw as Samael squeezed into his shoulders. "Yeah, Robin ain't no faintin' flower!" Samael beamed up at him and the depth of the redneck's faith was poison in Robin's veins. "He had my back -- he had all our backs!"

But the venom could only trickle so far before Robin glanced up and found Rico leaning on Aslan's shoulder. His easy grin fit right in at the table. "Kept tryin' to tell you the Movement was the place for you, gato..."

Robin wrinkled his muzzle. "Yeah, well. I'm here now, ain't I?" he muttered around the lip of his bottle before slamming the rest of the beer back. He felt Samael's silent gaze of concern and ignored it. Shorty would eventually write him off as crazy -- everyone else did. "Don't get too cozy using me as your meat shield," he added in a louder tone directed at Morris. "I'm just -"

"- here to fight," Morris, Y'vonne and Samael all concluded at once, sharing a smile among themselves.

"Doesn't change what I saw you do, Red," Morris continued as he nodded at him. "You took more shots to the head than you shoulda, but you and Sammy moved like old partners. That juiced-out motherfucker woulda made Sampi-paste out of our resident shortstack if you hadn't been there. You can be reliable when you need to be."

"Don't get jealous, Roadkill," Robin shot back. "Saw the way you tried to blind me with that flashbang."

"Nah, I distracted you with my handsome mug first, got you to look away just in time," Morris retorted with a grin. "You're welcome, by the way."

Robin smirked. "For which distraction?"

Morris shrugged and tipped him a wink. "Both."

Samael giggled away at his side as the bright jangle from his tail drew Robin further from his comfortable malaise. "Aw man, it's a dang shame Y'vonne 'n Aslan had to keep their heads down fer all that! They missed a real awesome show!"

Robin glanced down at Samael's arm still looped around his shoulders -- possible only because Shorty was standing at the table, apparently content to bounce energetically on his paws rather than sit in chairs and benches with the rest of them. Wasn't so bad. Little guy checked off a few boxes that kept Robin going for the next round, with the bonus of not seeming to expect any sort of emotional commitment. He was easy.

Robin liked easy.

"I still saw, um. Some of it," Aslan admitted into his bottle. He swallowed another gulp and smiled a bit. "You think fast under pressure. And I haven't see many people fight the way you do."

"That's cuz Robin got trained by a per-fessional!" Samael chimed in before wincing. "Er...sorry, hon. Ain't my place to drag out the past."

"It's cool if you don't wanna talk about it," Morris agreed. "But I'm with Aslan. Ignoring Samael's illiteracy --"

"Hey!!"

"--I don't think he's exaggerating. They don't teach that shit in Basic."

Robin shifted his weight and lowered his empty bottle to the table. Morris was right; he didn't have to talk about it. But if Samael had gotten him to spill a few secrets over the aftermath of a messy fuck, it probably wouldn't kill him to do so over a few drinks, too.

"Nah. I didn't learn all this to fight in no Holy War." Robin tapped his claws against the table, frowning somewhat when Carlos barked out a bemused laugh. "And he used to be a professional. Made good money off it, but some shit went down, he owed money to the wrong folks, picked up some bad habits and threw away his good chances," he grumbled. Carlos's features flattened before turning down in a moment of shame. Robin chewed the inside of his cheek and then exhaled softly. "He lost everything, but he. Was still a good friend." He watched as the fading visage conjured up a faint smile of gratitude. "Showed me everything there was to know about throwing a punch, then introduced me to the underground fight scene. I fell in love with it."

"Were you an angry kid, too?" Morris inquired. "I hated everything growing up. Hated my parents, hated my brother, hated the War that took him away. I joined up so I could beat the shit outta Sirca." He reached up and ran a claw along one of the scars outlining his jaw. "She returned the favor, I guess. But hey, I'm not mad anymore." He paused and then chuckled when Y'vonne gave him a pointed look. "Not mad at the ring anymore, at least."

Robin studied him for a few seconds. "I ain't mad anymore, either. And I don't think I was an angry kid." He smiled wryly and shrugged. "But I liked to fight. Didn't care about winning. Lotta people I met up in the ring were friends, and I was just as happy when they won, even if it was my ass they had to kick to do it. Gave all of us somewhere to put our frustration, entiendo? Most of us worked all day to scrape up a paycheck -- bossman kept us tired, liked us worn down. But we found ways to keep the people happy, using all that leftover energy they couldn't take themselves. Some fresh graffiti, a cage match, a little concert here and there. Army didn't teach me shit, everything I learned, I learned from my..." He trailed off as his features flattened. "From my streets."

Y'vonne perked up and smiled brightly. "Concert? It's been so long since we've had one here!"

"That's because no one wants to hear just a saxophone and drums," Morris retorted before nodding toward Samael. "And this asshole never brings his shiny new guitar out here, even though he won't shut up about it."

"Robin plays!" Samael exclaimed, once more looking sheepish even as his tail swung back and forth happily. "An' he even has his guitar with 'im, too!"

The other three all gave Robin a curious look as he groaned and shot Samael a sour expression. "What was all that about not ya place, Shorty?"

Samael smiled awkwardly and squeezed his fingers into Robin's shoulder. "Aww, yer...yer really good, though, an' I think 'bout all the folks who'd be so happy to have y'all playin' music around these caves again! I ain't heard Morris blow that horn fer a hot minute..."

"He fights, he fucks, he plays guitar, and he can see over the steering wheel..." Morris slid another smile to Samael. "Remind me why you're still here?"

The table broke into another round of laughter, and even Robin couldn't help a chortle slipping through his muted facade.

"Aw man, y'all're lucky I don't hold no grudges!" Samael whined. "An' maybe that was my aim the whole time! Get y'all someone who c'n do what I do but better so that ain't no one missin' me every time I gotta leave!"

"I'm not sure it's your field experience that makes you so popular around here," Y'vonne teased. "But we do appreciate the morale boost!"

"At least until Andee comes around to threaten every single dick Sammy may or may not have touched," Morris snickered. Robin lifted his eyes with intrigue, and Morris immediately grinned. "Shit, does Robin know about Andee yet?"

Samael chuckled as he polished off his beer. "He knows 'bout Andee, but uhhh. Not 'bout his people." He pranced around the table to collect the mostly-finished bottles as his tail rang out cheerily. "How 'bout I get us another round an' we'll tell him all about 'em??"

Robin tilted his head as Samael trotted off with an armful of empties, then glanced back toward the other three. "I'm starting to think his little boyfriend ain't just someone who comes from another backwater town..."

Morris flashed a toothy grin and propped his muzzle into a palm. "Tell me, Red...what have you heard about bat-people?"

"Ah yeah, that's real rich comin' from the inbred cave-bitch who's fuckin' bats!"

Samael let loose a gale of laughter and playfully hip-checked Robin into the wall. "Jus' wait 'til you actually meet one! They're all cute as c'n be, an' they know their way 'round a good time! Best thing ever happened to me was gettin' shot first time I went out there...got to spend two whole weeks gettin' to know 'em! Now they's like family to me..."

"That must make them easier for you to fuck," Robin declared, laughing in return when Samael's tail bashed into his legs. "Roadkill was right -- you ain't gonna be happy until you fuck everything above and below the ring!"

Samael tittered away as he skipped ahead and spun around to walk backward. "We all got dreams, don't be hatin' on mine!" He winked up at Robin and then smiled toothily while poking a finger-gun toward him. "Also, why you callin' Morris that? He's sweet as all get-out!"

"Because it looks like he got run over by a truck," Robin retorted around a half-smile.

"Yeah, but it were a real sexy truck!" Samael shot back as he waved his arms at his sides. "He's a grade-A cutie pie! An' I bet he's real good in the sack, too!"

Robin grinned, almost surprised how easily the entertained expression glided across his features. "Oh, don't play games with me, little man, There's no way you ain't fucked him. You fucked Silverman."

"Hey, hey, I was helpin' a fellow rebel with his ruff, that was jus' me performin' a li'l favor!" Samael insisted, despite knowing full and well that his precocious grin was showing. "Morris ain't come knockin' yet...which might jus' be the best news you ever heard, way you two was carryin' on!" He waggled his eyebrows as his hands settled on his hips, allowing him to perform an impressively sinuous saunter in reverse.

Robin shamelessly enjoyed Samael's rhythmic motions, running his tongue over his false fang before leaning down. "Dunno what ya talkin' about. I ain't the whore in the hallway."

Samael twitched but remained steadfast, his entrancing blue eyes burrowing into Robin's soul. Robin strode up to him without breaking the gaze, backing him into a support timber while Samael delved even deeper. It was strange, not recoiling from the intrusion.

Even stranger to be surprised how warm it felt, as if he'd forgotten the pleasant glow of allowing a friend close. The numbness had become so secure that he hadn't cared how well it kept out the heat. He hadn't sought out the cold as much as he'd grown accustomed to it.

But the warmth felt kinda nice.

"I might be a whore, but I ain't blind," Samael murmured. His expression was playful even as he stared into Robin's unguarded emotions. "You got yerself some new friends now, for sure." It was Robin's turn to twitch. "But the way you 'n Morris was gettin' along...hoo, boy." Another toothy grin as Samael's hands found their way to Robin's hips. "Fuckin' electric..."

Robin snorted and bent down further so his muzzle hung only a few centimeters above Samael's. "Damn, Shorty...if I wasn't half-drunk, I'd think you were jealous." His own maw parted into a broad grin. "But that ain't you...is it?"

"Naw, naw, naw, I ain't jealous..." Samael tilted his head and licked his lips, revealing a glimpse of his warring desires. "There's 'bout ten bunks up 'n down these caves I could slide into 'n find a happy host. I wish you'd followed Morris after them beers, maybe convinced him he ain't gotta handle them chores yet..."

Robin drank in the conflicting urges, savoring every moment of Samael's internal debate. "Heh, sure thing, gatito. That's why ya standin' in front of me right now, hopin' I drag ya down the hall to see if we can't break that shitty bed." It felt good to watch Samael struggle with himself, intoxicating to witness what must have been a monumental battle within the too-kind, too-empathetic, too-hungry bitch of a redneck.

But somewhere in his soul, it hurt, too. For all his attempts to lock the door forever and leave himself in a soothing pool of nothingness, Robin still felt an ache. Samael was the first real friend he'd granted himself in a long time. A friend who had his own demons to face, just like Robin, a friend who didn't deserve to debase himself --

"Naw, hon..."

The husky voice trickling from steady jaws cracked his hesitation.

"Ain't got time fer that."

The crumbling resolve in those needy blue eyes shattered what remained.

"Verga," Robin cursed as he joined Samael in surrender, his fingers swiftly unbuttoning his companion's shorts and yanking them down while the favor was returned on his own waistband without hesitation.

What was one more frantic fuck between friends?

"Well..." Robin raised an eyebrow as the singular word carried enough intention to raise multiple alarms. "Since I got ya trapped fer a li'l bit..."

"Ay, you already know I'll pull out, puta, don't test me," Robin warned.

Samael tittered and squeezed his paws into Robin's thighs. "Aww, c'mon, I ain't gonna grill ya too bad. Jus' wanna talk a li'l bit, that's all."

"Still ain't sure if ya little counselor routine is about gettin' me to talk, or gettin' a free fuck..."

"Heh, who says it cain't be both?" Robin could hear Samael's smile as the other chupa's tail curled tighter around his own. "It's gotta feel good to get some'a that stuff off yer chest, hon..."

Silence.

Robin didn't want to talk. Every word he spoke felt like leaving a door cracked to his soul. Life was easier when he didn't have to feel. Every decision was simple, every choice was weightless. And if he needed to taste something other that static, there was always a fight or a fuck to be found. Being here in the Movement with a thirsty redneck at his beck and call ensured both.

Only problem was that thirsty redneck made him feel relaxed. This whole little band of rebels made him feel wanted.

Made him feel.

Whether he liked it or not, it'd been too long, and now every glimmer was a bead of sunshine rolling across his fur.

He'd forgotten how warm sunshine could be.

"So...Roadkill." He paused, scoffed, then grumbled. "Morris. That Blue pendejo really know how to play?"

He hated the way Samael's happy little squirm tugged the door further open. "Hell yeah he does! I ain't seen no one blow a horn as fine as him, an' I seen plenty'a horns blowed!"

"Ain't hard to see when you're the one blowin' them," Robin mocked. They shared a chuckle as Robin's fingers began roving slowly across Samael's firm stomach. "I ain't promising anything, you know I didn't sign up for community theater." He refused to look over his shoulder and acknowledge Pauline's bemused smirk. "But...maybe I'll see about bringing my guitar by. Guessin' there ain't that much else to do around here if you ain't around to fuck."

Samael's grin was even more audible than his smile. "Haw -- you could always fuck Morris instead. 'Cept he might be a top, got that real sexy confidence."

Robin snorted but didn't deny the drifting thoughts that floated past his eyes. "You just wanna know how big his dick is since ya somehow ain't got into his pants yet."

"Maybe!"

They laughed again and the door opened a bit wider.

"You...you talked 'bout one'a yer friends before," Samael began.

A tremble ran down Robin's spine. He could feel his jaw already tightening.

"The one who loved music. 'N how it could let people jus'...be free, even fer a li'l bit..."

Robin closed his eyes, but her entertained chortle still slipped over his shoulder. "Oh, I like this one. Thinking about me right after you two plowed -- how's that for the power of music, gato??"

He huffed but remained quiet as Samael tiptoed forward. "I'm still thinkin' 'bout that. Reminds me a lot of mah tribe. Music is so important to us, whole cave came together fer sessions. Kept us warm, kept us close. Kept all the bad shit out fer a li'l bit, y'know?"

Robin chewed his tongue, then murmured after a few seconds. "Yeah. I get it. She...ya asked before if she taught me to play. She...did, yeah. She was real good. Had fingers like little dancers...used to make the guitar sing..."

Samael pressed back against him again and Robin's arm automatically squeezed harder around his waist. "You...you play with her? Fer, like...fer a crowd, I mean?"

"Yeah. Ain't like a cage match, feels...different. Crowd's quieter, but a lot scarier." Robin opened his eyes to look at the top of Samael's head. "And then when you see them all watching you...smiling...swaying along..."

"Best feelin' in the world," Samael concluded softly.

"Yeah." Robin stared through the door, shielding his eyes from the overwhelming glow. "Like nothin' else."

Samael's fingers wove into Robin's, indicating he needed to guard himself for what came next. "I'd really love to hear more 'bout yer old friends. Sounds like they's a huge part of yer life, and --"

"Not..." Robin clenched his teeth and then exhaled slowly as he stretched out an upper leg to brush gingerly against Samael's thighs. "Not now, gatito. Been a long day."

Samael's silence wasn't judgmental like most. A morose jingle was all the protest he got as their tails twisted a bit more. "A'right, hon. Whenever yer ready."

Robin wasn't sure if that moment existed. But he nodded all the same as they melted against one another and fell into a welcome peace.

It wasn't Samael's soft snoring that woke him.

Robin's eyes cracked open. The smell of spray paint and snatchweed. He smiled to himself in spite of the demands for numbness.

"Damn, puta! This little dude got some game!"

He glanced down at Samael, curled beneath one arm with his stocky frame still mashed against Robin. He'd turned toward the larger chupa in his sleep, his head pressed to Robin's chest as a bit of drool trickled from his boxy muzzle. Felt wrong for him to still be in the bed...but it felt worse to imagine his friend's absence.

"Good for him!"

Robin lifted his head and shifted somewhat, still smiling as his eyes settled on Rico. His lanky pal was sitting against the opposite wall with a toothy grin, holding up a bottle of beer in a playful salute. "Better for you, ha!"

"Ya just jealous," Robin replied around a confident smirk. "Bet he'd be down if you wanted to tap in, though."

"Nah, I already ate, don't need ya sloppy seconds," Rico shot back even as he bounced his eyebrows and tilted his head to admire the view. "Bet he fucks even better than that bodega bombshell that almost got ya fired!"

"His head game is pretty padre..." Robin snickered as Rico flicked his tongue teasingly. "Make you a real man, hermanito..."

"We all know you were the last one to get ya nut busted," Rico taunted before peering at the bottle. "Hmmm." He swirled the remaining liquid, then gave Robin a pointed look. "So when ya finally gonna tell him about us?"

Robin shrugged and looked back down at his snoozing companion. "What's the rush? The past ain't goin' nowhere. And it ain't gonna matter if...I...t-tell..." He trailed off as he lifted his eyes to spot a swathe of blood smeared across the rocky floor. "H-him..."

He began to tremble as his gaze followed the glistening stain to his friend...no. To what was left of his friend.

Rico stared forward, blood pouring from his jaws as he struggled to crawl forward. "M...moh..." Only ragged viscera remained below his waist, his tattered innards dragging over the ground with each weak motion. Tears cut cruel rivers through the crimson on his cheeks and Robin froze as Rico's eyes bored into his.

"Momma..."

Robin bolted upright as rage and guilt and raw, unfiltered agony smashed through his veins. "Out..." he rasped, reaching up to clutch at his throat before snarling. "Out, get out!"

Samael stirred against him before opening his eyes blearily. "Wuh...hnn?"

Robin's head twisted toward him and his fangs gleamed dangerously. "Get up, Shorty!" he barked before yanking the covers off. "Sammy, get up!"

Samael's features darted to concerned as he sat up in confusion. "Wait, what's--"

"Get out," Robin growled before staring back at Rico's gaping maw. "Get the fuck out." He shoved his nubs blindly against Samael, forcing the bewildered redneck to tumble off the mattress. "I'm not here to be ya fucking teddy bear, get out now!" he snarled through clenched jaws.

Samael climbed to his paws next to the bed, reaching down to touch his shoulder. "Robin --"

The contact sent a jolt through him, and he aimed his fiery stare up toward Samael.

"Robin, what is it?"

And in an instant, the fury faded.

Robin reached up and shoved away Samael's hand before turning his muted gaze back to the corner of the room. He knew it was a bad idea. It would always be a bad idea.

He could no longer tear his eyes from Rico's pitiful bleating. The rest of the world faded into a dull hum as he draped himself in the numbing fog. Few things fit more comfortably than the familiar cloak of emptiness.

Next to him, Samael said something, Pleaded it, maybe. Robin didn't understand it because he didn't care. The diversion had been nice, while it lasted. That was the purpose of a diversion. He was sure Samael would be back, and he was sure he'd enjoy another detour. But that's all it would ever be.

And as he continued to stare at Rico's fading whimpers, Samael's faltering voice wilted into a murmur, then a whisper, then only a tickle of air that took little effort to shrug away.

Eventually the warmth of Samael's presence faded, too, leaving Robin almost alone in the dark cavern. He closed his eyes and laid on his side as Rico's rattling bre 0aths filled the room.

He doubted Samael's hope would be lost entirely -- little fucker seemed to have an endless wellspring of it. But that was his business. Robin didn't have that problem.

Robin's hope wasn't meant to flourish. It was meant to drown, meant to choke on the overwhelming guilt that would engulf it forever. Guilt over failing, guilt over surviving.

Guilt over killing his friends.

But he could avoid anything else flooding into that sea of bitter responsibility. All he had to do was keep those doors closed and remind himself why nothing was so much more soothing than something.

Didn't have to worry about losing nothing.

Red vs Blue © Rooster Teeth. Halo © 343 Industries. Concept by Myshu, assisted by The Department of Chupapology.