[Abel is where he always is: at home, resembling a caged animal more and more the longer he sits and tries to figure out what to do with his time. He's managed to stash his frustration somewhere where Deimos and Cain won't be inconvenienced by it, but it's getting to be too much to hide away. He wants to stretch, he wants to work, but nothing has really panned out in the mundane, non-Displaced world thus far. It feels wrong, but what is he supposed to do? Insist?]
[He's making himself a cup of tea and trying not to be frustrated about this latest thing-- he's been testing equipment since before he even became Abel, doesn't Cain have any faith in him? Is he just a small fish in a very big pond now, that has to accept he isn't as smart as he was somewhere else? And Cain's just trying to be nice about it? Is that it?]
[What he does know is that the honeymoon period of his and Cain's reconciliation and the shiny strangeness of New Amsterdam is wearing off and now he actually has to start a life here. It's not going the way he wants, and while it's mortifying to admit, it's probably because he's never had to start a life on his own before. This is what everybody else does, he should be able to do it better than this.]
[He's not an idiot. He's noticed Abel's restlessness and has tried to do what he can short of asking his own company to hire Abel on his behalf out of frustration, but it's not his place. Maybe he's looking for the right job to throw his time into and is unwilling to take the first decently paid opportunity as Cain had just to free himself of the safehouse's restrictions, so that's why it matters. Abel has far more technical skill in addition to a formal educated background than him. There's no comparison. It makes sense he wouldn't choose whatever fell into his lap, as high-minded and purposeful as he is.
Or maybe it isn't about work at all, but in that Cain can't relate -- he throws himself into physical activities (manual labor of work, the fighting rings, training at Jason and Hafid's old warehouse) exactly because it's what he's good at. It keeps him distracted, satisfied until the next strange occurrence in this world inevitably goes wrong.
At some point, Cain had decided to leave it alone. He wasn't even thinking of Abel's free time when he replied to that network post. All he could see was Fitz covered in blood not his own, Peggy crumpling to the ground like a lifeless doll, Markus pinned underneath a barrage of gunfire. All he could see was the soldier he'd shot dead himself through a plucked-out chunk of armor.
A few minutes later, he steps out of the bathroom toweling off his head. Dark eyes land on Abel.]
[Abel can feel Cain looking at his back without turning around, so he just keeps his eyes on his tea steeping on the counter, his shoulders fixed in annoyed and stressed out angles. He really doesn't want to talk about this at all, he's starting to hear that tiny voice that says he's being unreasonable, this isn't Cain's problem to work out, it's his.]
[He takes a breath and lets it out, but doesn't turn around.]
This is the only thing I'm good at. Do you think I'm going to just-- do you think I'm going to fuck it up so badly that I'll need to be saved? That I can't understand what could happen?
[It's not the only thing Abel's good at, far from it in his own opinion, but he's not going to press that point. Stepping forward into the kitchen, Cain rubs a hand across his face and tries again.]
Ethan, that's not even what I meant. I'm not trying to save you. I wasn't gonna stop you, I just... wanted to be there.
[Wasn't Abel the one who discussed being a team? Maybe he's overstepped some boundary of that, and Abel would rather work alone after all.]
This shit is dangerous. I've seen the weapons they use. They're fucking strong. I know we fought the 'Terons together, but this is different, okay? We don't have a ship here.
[Abel can't think of another thing that he's good for other than blueprints and blowjobs, and it's impossible to think of anything except that when he starts in on himself. He's taking advantage of Cain, latching onto him and demanding he be cared for and carried along until something happens. It's not fair, he's ashamed of it, and now he's making Cain do it outside their home too? It's just pathetic.]
I know we don't have a ship here, believe me I know. There is probably no one else more sharply aware of that fact.
[Abel's hand curls tightly on the counter, frustrated.] You want to be there because if something happens, there's nothing I could do to protect myself. I'm a fragile Navigator without any clue as to what those people put inside of me, right? Smart, but that's where it ends.
[He can't help the initial flare of anger at what Abel says. It's almost difficult to control it. He wants to walk forward, take Abel by the shoulders, and shake sense back into him because it's clear this is an emotionally charged lash-out triggered by pent up frustration. Maybe he can't fix all of Abel's problems, but he's not about to stand by and let him continue down this avenue and the tangled web of self-loathing that lies down it.
Coming forward, Cain moves around the counter and brings them steps closer, voice dropping lower and gaze set with a stern edge of sobriety.]
Is that what I think about you, or what you think about yourself? 'Cause it sounds like you're putting words in my mouth, Ethan.
[Maybe once it was a true sentiment, before he knew anything about Abel. Maybe once he held the erroneous belief that all Navigators were steered by intelligence but otherwise weak, fragile, unable to fend for themselves, easily manipulated. That had vanished from his mind as soon as they partnered in the field: there was no one as courageous, no one as technically skilled as Abel, no one who would risk their own throat to save the life of a fellow soldier. Abel isn't weak. He'd seen how Abel had incapacitated Cook with that gun, and even if it was the first time his hands had ever laid on a real weapon of that nature beyond a starfighter's capabilities, there was no hesitation. And his aim was sure.
So Cain really doesn't like where this conversation sounds like it's going.]
[The sharp angles of Abel's shoulders soften, because there's really no arguing against that. He is putting words in Cain's mouth, and it's not fair. It's both, really, he's just prompting Cain to agree with him, but he's going to call a spade a spade.]
I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like... [Yes, he did actually. So he cuts the lie off by biting his lips and closing his eyes tightly. There are better ways to word things, ways that are honest.]
You're supporting both of us, you're taking care of me because I haven't figured out what to do with myself. And... I'm scared you're going to get tired of it. Of me, and taking care of me because I'm... [He gestures with a hand because he can't find the word to describe how directionless and impotent he feels.]
[Cain forces himself to take a breath before going on.]
It hasn't been that long since you got here, and I mean, that doesn't even matter. I'm not gonna expect you to walk out and take just any job you can find the way I did. [Eager to get out of the safehouse, to be independent, to make money -- he'd gone for the most obvious, easiest opportunity. Abel's not like that. He has a far more technical skillset.] You're not a burden. Whatever bad thing you think you are, that's not true, okay?
Look at the evidence. You kicked Cook's ass, got us off the Sleipnir, you were supporting me just as much back there. And that's not any different now just 'cause we're in a different place. [Unable to tamp down the urge for it, he moves forward and wraps both arms around Abel to draw him in against his chest. He tucks his chin near the crown of Abel's head.] I know you're not taking shit for granted. You spend all day working on stuff like those simulations. And you can really help Fitz out, I know you can. I just wanna be there too. It's my job to keep you safe, that's what a Fighter is for.
[Abel casts a little sad, guilty glance over his shoulder before looking back at the cabinet in shame. Yes, yes he does think Cain could possibly get tired of him. There's so many interesting people here, Cain is so attractive, and they don't have something they're working towards together anymore. Not even the rent for crying out loud. Is it so crazy to think that Cain would notice that Abel was stagnant and be turned off by it?]
[Maybe he is being too hard on himself though, and Cain clearly knows that examples are something Abel won't be able to refute. Showing his work... it's almost like Cain is reading him like the math textbook he is right now. Is he really not any bad thing he thinks he is? That seems to cast him in such a perfect light, put him on a pedestal.]
[He falls into Cain's chest easily, without any hesitation, and wraps his arms against Cain's. How is he always so warm, and so gently firm? Every ugly thing that Abel convinced himself of, every angry thought, just slides away under Cain's steady voice and his soothing closeness. No wonder he always forgot how frustrated he was whenever Cain came home, this is what he needed after spending hours feeling like he had no worth here.]
His um. Face. [Abel awkwardly shifts his weight between his feet.] I kicked Cook in the face.
[And it was satisfying, even his hesitant tone says so. Abel turns his head until his forehead is against Cain's cheek and he sighs, letting out the anger and the upset. All he feels now is exhaustion and comfort, like he could do nothing but stand here in Cain's arms all night.] I think you're doing more than your job here, Alexei. Am I right?
[Turning in Cain's arms, Abel faces him. Hands on his waist and steady eye contact.] If you're telling me I can't call myself a soft, brainy Navigator, I'm not letting you get away with what could be construed as the same thing.
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no subject
[He's making himself a cup of tea and trying not to be frustrated about this latest thing-- he's been testing equipment since before he even became Abel, doesn't Cain have any faith in him? Is he just a small fish in a very big pond now, that has to accept he isn't as smart as he was somewhere else? And Cain's just trying to be nice about it? Is that it?]
[What he does know is that the honeymoon period of his and Cain's reconciliation and the shiny strangeness of New Amsterdam is wearing off and now he actually has to start a life here. It's not going the way he wants, and while it's mortifying to admit, it's probably because he's never had to start a life on his own before. This is what everybody else does, he should be able to do it better than this.]
no subject
Or maybe it isn't about work at all, but in that Cain can't relate -- he throws himself into physical activities (manual labor of work, the fighting rings, training at Jason and Hafid's old warehouse) exactly because it's what he's good at. It keeps him distracted, satisfied until the next strange occurrence in this world inevitably goes wrong.
At some point, Cain had decided to leave it alone. He wasn't even thinking of Abel's free time when he replied to that network post. All he could see was Fitz covered in blood not his own, Peggy crumpling to the ground like a lifeless doll, Markus pinned underneath a barrage of gunfire. All he could see was the soldier he'd shot dead himself through a plucked-out chunk of armor.
A few minutes later, he steps out of the bathroom toweling off his head. Dark eyes land on Abel.]
You wanna talk about this now?
no subject
[He takes a breath and lets it out, but doesn't turn around.]
This is the only thing I'm good at. Do you think I'm going to just-- do you think I'm going to fuck it up so badly that I'll need to be saved? That I can't understand what could happen?
no subject
[It's not the only thing Abel's good at, far from it in his own opinion, but he's not going to press that point. Stepping forward into the kitchen, Cain rubs a hand across his face and tries again.]
Ethan, that's not even what I meant. I'm not trying to save you. I wasn't gonna stop you, I just... wanted to be there.
[Wasn't Abel the one who discussed being a team? Maybe he's overstepped some boundary of that, and Abel would rather work alone after all.]
This shit is dangerous. I've seen the weapons they use. They're fucking strong. I know we fought the 'Terons together, but this is different, okay? We don't have a ship here.
no subject
I know we don't have a ship here, believe me I know. There is probably no one else more sharply aware of that fact.
[Abel's hand curls tightly on the counter, frustrated.] You want to be there because if something happens, there's nothing I could do to protect myself. I'm a fragile Navigator without any clue as to what those people put inside of me, right? Smart, but that's where it ends.
no subject
Coming forward, Cain moves around the counter and brings them steps closer, voice dropping lower and gaze set with a stern edge of sobriety.]
Is that what I think about you, or what you think about yourself? 'Cause it sounds like you're putting words in my mouth, Ethan.
[Maybe once it was a true sentiment, before he knew anything about Abel. Maybe once he held the erroneous belief that all Navigators were steered by intelligence but otherwise weak, fragile, unable to fend for themselves, easily manipulated. That had vanished from his mind as soon as they partnered in the field: there was no one as courageous, no one as technically skilled as Abel, no one who would risk their own throat to save the life of a fellow soldier. Abel isn't weak. He'd seen how Abel had incapacitated Cook with that gun, and even if it was the first time his hands had ever laid on a real weapon of that nature beyond a starfighter's capabilities, there was no hesitation. And his aim was sure.
So Cain really doesn't like where this conversation sounds like it's going.]
no subject
I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like... [Yes, he did actually. So he cuts the lie off by biting his lips and closing his eyes tightly. There are better ways to word things, ways that are honest.]
You're supporting both of us, you're taking care of me because I haven't figured out what to do with myself. And... I'm scared you're going to get tired of it. Of me, and taking care of me because I'm... [He gestures with a hand because he can't find the word to describe how directionless and impotent he feels.]
no subject
[Cain forces himself to take a breath before going on.]
It hasn't been that long since you got here, and I mean, that doesn't even matter. I'm not gonna expect you to walk out and take just any job you can find the way I did. [Eager to get out of the safehouse, to be independent, to make money -- he'd gone for the most obvious, easiest opportunity. Abel's not like that. He has a far more technical skillset.] You're not a burden. Whatever bad thing you think you are, that's not true, okay?
Look at the evidence. You kicked Cook's ass, got us off the Sleipnir, you were supporting me just as much back there. And that's not any different now just 'cause we're in a different place. [Unable to tamp down the urge for it, he moves forward and wraps both arms around Abel to draw him in against his chest. He tucks his chin near the crown of Abel's head.] I know you're not taking shit for granted. You spend all day working on stuff like those simulations. And you can really help Fitz out, I know you can. I just wanna be there too. It's my job to keep you safe, that's what a Fighter is for.
no subject
[Maybe he is being too hard on himself though, and Cain clearly knows that examples are something Abel won't be able to refute. Showing his work... it's almost like Cain is reading him like the math textbook he is right now. Is he really not any bad thing he thinks he is? That seems to cast him in such a perfect light, put him on a pedestal.]
[He falls into Cain's chest easily, without any hesitation, and wraps his arms against Cain's. How is he always so warm, and so gently firm? Every ugly thing that Abel convinced himself of, every angry thought, just slides away under Cain's steady voice and his soothing closeness. No wonder he always forgot how frustrated he was whenever Cain came home, this is what he needed after spending hours feeling like he had no worth here.]
His um. Face. [Abel awkwardly shifts his weight between his feet.] I kicked Cook in the face.
[And it was satisfying, even his hesitant tone says so. Abel turns his head until his forehead is against Cain's cheek and he sighs, letting out the anger and the upset. All he feels now is exhaustion and comfort, like he could do nothing but stand here in Cain's arms all night.] I think you're doing more than your job here, Alexei. Am I right?
[Turning in Cain's arms, Abel faces him. Hands on his waist and steady eye contact.] If you're telling me I can't call myself a soft, brainy Navigator, I'm not letting you get away with what could be construed as the same thing.