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Picking up the Pieces (With BlueAmbient)

When Maverick listens and comes over to the window, Mason doesn’t back up. This means he’s standing little more than a foot away from Maverick. He’s still worried about the increased heartrate, and the red flush, but Maverick’s insistence is firm. Mason just nods slowly when Maverick moves away, returning to washing the floor.

It’s another half an hour, spent in relatively comfortable silence, that Mason and Maverick work at the floor. By the time they’re done, Mason is yawning. He should really take a nap, but he doesn’t want to make Maverick feel like he has to leave. “Thank you, for helping me with this. It did need a good cleaning, but I really could have done it myself.”
 
The silent work environment was suitable for Maverick who never really had all that much to say anyway. Over the course of their work he was able to calm down even if he was aware of the lingering concern over him. It took a half hour but the floor was absolutely spotless when they were done. Hearing the yawn he glanced over at Mason while tossing his rag lightly into the bucket. "I'm aware, but it would have taken much longer." he responded.

After a moment of thought he decided he should probably be more specific. "I mean, I know you can do it yourself but I wanted to help. It's as simple as that." Of course by now the laundry must have been done. "You sound a bit tired. I'll go get the laundry real quick so we can make the bed." He was off without a second thought, headed down the stairs to retrieve the laundry that was done drying. He stuffed the whole load into a basket and hauled the whole works up the stairs.

If Mason hadn't slept at all then he could probably use the rest, so his bed would need to be made up. When he got back into the room he started fishing through the basket for the fitted sheets that would go first. "It will be easier with the two of us doing this instead of wrestling with it to get it over the bed." With this the room would be pretty much complete.
 
Mason shuffles over to sit with his back to the bed while he waits for Maverick to return. His concern had faded a bit when Maverick’s heartrate had calmed down, as well as the flush to his face. Mason might be hyper aware of his own feelings and actions towards his comrade, but he’s not clueing in to any hints the other might be subconsciously dropping.

When Maverick returns, Mason stands and smiles, a small nod given as he works with Maverick to make the bed. Pillows dropped into fresh cases and tossed at the headboard, Mason sits on the foot of the bed. He’s yawning again, rubbing the back of his neck. “What do you want to do now? Anything I can help you with, since you’ve been a big help to me?”
 
The task of making the bed went quite easily with the two of them able to cover both sides of it and they were done in no time. Maverick looked around the room and admired their hard work. It was on par with Maverick's room now. Maverick really had no other plans for the day so far other than cleaning. Now that the biggest chore was done he was at a loss of what to do. "Nothing I can think of as far as needing help. You should rest or you're going to feel like absolute garbage later." Of course he didn't need to tell Mason that considering the man's already established habits.

"Unless you want me to keep you company until you're tired enough to crash?" This was added as an afterthought and he didn't really mean much by it. "Maybe you'll sleep better knowing someone familiar is around." It made sense to him at least. Back in the military he always found it easier to rest while Mason was around because he trusted him. It was a comfort of sorts, but he wasn't sure if the same could be side in the reverse.
 
Mason lays back on the bed with a small hum, stretching his arms out to the sides. He really should sleep, by this point, he’d been awake for over 24 hours. Maverick’s offer to keep him company is too tempting not to take. “Yeah, could you stay? It’s.. it’s been a long time since I’ve had someone I trusted enough to watch my back.” Mason closes his eyes, sighing, but he’s not asleep yet.

Instead, his mind wanders again. He can’t help it, he has so many questions for Maverick, so many things he didn’t have access to answers about over the last year. His tired brain pulls the most important one to the front of his mind. “Maverick, why did you leave? At the lab, when everything went to hell. Why did you run?”
 
It had been quite a long time. Maverick nodded and came over to sit on the floor next to the bed with his back against the side, making his continued presence well known. There was a long pause when Mason finally asked one of the questions Maverick wasn't particularly keen on answering. He had offered an answer back when they were getting his fake identity but Mason must have realized that the answer he had given back then wasn't the entirety of it. They had both revealed the basics of their powers to one another as well as the drawbacks. "Saw through my bullshitting, huh?" he murmured with a sigh. "Rather, I wasn't lying. I just omitted the fact that I nearly killed myself." He was soft spoken as he offered his answers. "I separated from the group because I knew it was my only chance to get revenge. I only had that one chance to kill Sagittarius and I had the means to do it. I just didn't want you involved with it so I split from the group. No need for you to get caught up in my own obsession."

He was indeed worried about the military finding his copy ability too useful to let go to waste, but that was only part of his decision to run. He hadn't been at all in the right state of health to actually be of use. "I told you that using this ability has...severe drawbacks. I never considered them when I fought with Sagittarius. I was an idiot, too consumed by my hatred of the bastard to consider whether or not I was going too far." Maverick was lucky to be alive after all of that. "After I ran I had to go into hiding while I recovered, and even then Sagittarius's men were chasing after me. It's probably why you faced less heat after that mission, at least from Sagittarius's division."

Then there was the fact that he hadn't been in the right headspace afterwards. "I also had a bit of a mental breakdown because I no longer knew what to do with myself. Killing Sagittarius was my only goal, it was the only reason I fought with you all. I just felt kinda empty after all that. Like nothing really mattered." That mindset had persisted up until he met Mason again not long ago. "I could have sought you out but...what was the point? You still had the war to deal with, and after all of that you had your own life to put back together. I didn't feel like I should bother you further after just ditching you all." Now he realized otherwise. He was more than happy to answer any other questions Mason had, depending on what they were.
 
Mason listens in silence, letting Maverick get it all out. His chest tightens when the shorter man speaks of almost killing himself. Revenge is certainly sweet, but the cost is always too high. If Maverick really had died, Mason‘s life never would have changed. He’d still be struggling with the guilt of Maverick’s disappearance. Of course, he still has guilt, but since finding Maverick two days ago, it has changed. Now it’s more along the lines of ‘why didn’t he keep looking’. But even having Maverick back hasn’t been a magic fix to his sleeping, or his drinking.

Maverick keeps talking, and Mason turns his head, opening his eyes so he can see where Maverick is sitting on the floor beside the bed. Mason bites his lower lip until Maverick is finished. “I wish you had sought me out. More than that, I wish I had tried harder to look for you. I coulld have kept you safe while you recovered. And it’s not like I had a life to put back together. I came home and immediately had to use my military release stipend to buy this house. I didn’t have anything to put back together, I had to start over. We could have done it together.”

As he talks, Mason’s voice is getting more and more quiet. By the time the last word is out of his mouth, he’s asleep. His breathing deepens, evens out. His lips are slightly parted, breath softly passing between them.
 
It’s not like he could have known that Mason had no life to put together in the end. In retrospect his choices were…not so amazing. In the end they had reunited, but he couldn’t help but wonder how things would be if they’d reunited sooner. Such things were impossible to know and pointless to brood over as time itself couldn’t be rewound. They were stuck with the choices they’d made regardless.

As Mason went quiet he waited a few additional minutes in contemplation before daring to turn and see that Mason was sleeping. Just being there seemed to help, even if he’d done no more than answer a single question. He took an extra moment to admire the peaceful look on Mason’s face. The man was handsome even in his sleep.

With a shake of his head he quietly left to retrieve the art supplies they’d purchased the day before so he could keep himself busy. He returned to the room and sat on the clean floor away from the bed to quietly work, finding comfort in the other’s presence even if the man was asleep. He quietly sat their sketching whatever came to mind, starting with his usual morbid scenery. Much like with cleaning he was single-mindedly focused on the task at hand, working his way through one image of barren scenery in what looked to be a ruined city plagued by death. They'd seen plenty of it during their time in the military and he found it almost therapeutic to recreate on paper.

After two pages of such work he started on something entirely different. He was so focused in his work he didn't even think about what he was making. It was a pretty rough image of Mason, though he wasn't well versed with close-ups as he was usually drawing things that appeared at distance. The amount of detail he used was somewhat meticulous.
 
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Mason sleeps peacefully for almost two hours. But the peaceful, dreamless sleep doesn't last. The nightmare starts with just his fingers twitching, followed by the muscles in his legs. His head starts shifting side to side. His breathing changes, no longer deep and even. Now, his breaths are short and shallow, rapid. Tension builds in the muscles of his shoulders.

Mason is caught beneath an enemy soldier, struggling. His strength is gone, sapped by exhaustion, and his focus is shot. Behind the enemy, he can see a familiar shape standing over a dead body. His head turns, lips mouthing something. There's an explosion, smoke and fire consuming the man Mason can't reach..

On the bed, Mason's body is shaking, jaw clenched so hard, the muscle is standing out in clear definition.
 
When it came to finer tasks such as this, Maverick could easily hyper focus on the task. Such was the case right now with his drawing, and was what kept him from initially noticing that anything was wrong within the room. It wasn't until he took a small pause in his work to look it over that he heard the shifting on the bed.

Immediately he set the pencil on the floor next to the sketch pad so he could see what the source of the sound was. Probably Mason waking up? Once he got up he noticed the shaking and knew that Mason wasn't waking up at all. It looked like another bad dream. Cautiously approaching the bed he lightly shook the other's shoulder. He didn't want to cause alarm but he was sure that waking up was far better than enduring whatever unfortunate hell the man was currently experiencing.

When the light touch wasn't enough he used both hands to more insistently shake. "Mason?" he called out, a slight hint of concern to his voice. Knowing how Mason reacted previously he was more than ready to get away if need be.
 
This time when he snaps awake, hand flying under his pillow, Mason finds no knife. So instead his fingers curl in the fabric of the pillow, bringing it up to thump it against the side of Maverick’s face. His legs hook around the shorter man’s waist, muscles flexing as he brings himself up. The movement, plus his weight, sends them careeening over backward, crashing to the floor. Once again, Mason is on top of Maverick, this time on the floor, hands landing on the man’s shoulders to hold him down.

Just as before, Mason moves with incredible speed and accuracy, reflexes acting on instinct. Unlike before, he doesn’t immediately move away. Instead, a dark blush spreads across his cheeks. “Oh shit, I did it again. Uh, are you okay? I heard your head hit the floor.”
 
Maverick caught sight of the movement of Mason's hand to the pillow upon the other's awakening, though he did not expect the pillow itself to be used against him in the manner that it was. "Whoa, wait!" he exclaimed as he once again found himself wrapped up in the fight or flight response Mason was exhibiting, the result of which was far less favorable than last time.

Instead of finding himself beneath Mason on the bed, he ended up on the floor. Given how quickly all of this went down it was understandable that he hadn't been able to guard his head entirely from the impact, which was quite dizzying. His heart was beating rapidly from the shock as he reached a hand behind his head to rub at it. "Am I okay?" Maverick asked with a slight hiss, now looking up at the man towering over him.

Having Mason's hands holding him down even still, Maverick frowned at the rather rough reception. Thankfully the fall wasn't that far and while sore as hell, he didn't think the bump to his head was anything to worry about aside from a mild headache. "Maybe next time I'll throw something at you instead. Let you wrestle with the air." That would have been the smarter thing to do here.

With Mason still on top of him he felt his face heat up slightly. "I'm fine, just a little bump." Probably. "What about you?"
 
Mason’s expression looks like that of a chastised child. He sits up, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’m sorry, Maverick. With the nightmares and being so accustomed to living alone, I guess I’m just not used to having someone else waking me up.” It’s another moment before Mason realizes he’s still straddling Maverick’s lap. His blush darkens and he moves to the side, sitting on the floor beside Maverick. “I’m.. okay, mostly. I’ve got tylenol in the bathroom, I’ll go get it.”

Mason stumbles to his feet, muttering under his breath about stupid nightmares, stupid reflexes. His hands are shaking as he goes out the door, residual from his nightmare. He returns shortly with a bottle of water from the kitchen, and the bottle of tylenol from the bathroom. “Here. I really am sorry.”
 
Maverick wasn't too terribly upset with the ordeal but he had to admit that the expression that crossed Mason's face was amusing to him. Not something he has seen very much at all. "I get it, I get that way sometimes. My reflexes aren't quite what they used to be though." he replied softly. Once Mason was no longer straddling him he sat up. "Mostly okay?" he questioned, though he didn't really expect a response to such a silly question.

Waiting for Mason to return he glanced at the image he had been working on, noticing the contents and deciding he should probably change the page to one of the other drawings. It would be weird to explain why he was drawing Mason in particular, especially to such meticulous detail. Unfortunately he was a bit slow in his action, as Mason arrived just as he reached out for the sketchpad.

Mason's voice is what caught his attention as he then hurriedly flipped the page to the previous one, not that his action was very subtle. "O-oh, right." Maverick stammered, setting it down and taking the offered bottles and washing down a couple tylenol with ease. "It's no big deal, really. I can adjust." Maverick insisted.
 
Mason doesn’t iss the sudden flip of a sketchbook page, but he hadn’t seen the image. He gives Maverick a wondering look, but doesn’t chase the topic, instead sitting back down with the man. “It is a big deal, though. I don’t want you to feel unsafe here. And this is the second time I’ve basically attacked you.”

It’s clear this bothers Mason, but he doesn’t know how to fix it. ”I keep expecting to wake up and find out this is all a dream, even though it’s the third day you’ve been here. I just.. I don’t know how to convince my brain that it’s real, and that you’re actually here. It’s like, every time I fall asleep, I’m either so tired that there’s nothing, or I go back to the day you.. disappeared..” Mason trails off, looking down at his still shaking hands.
 
Despite his attempts to brush the whole thing off it seemed like Mason couldn't look past it as easily. Maverick listened quietly with a thoughtful frown as Mason explained himself. That was a problem that not even he was quite so sure how to solve. He wordlessly placed a hand on Mason's shoulder as if maybe some form of physical contact might be the answer. "Clearly I'm right here." he replied.

This seemed to explain the nightmares though, or at least their contents. He didn't imagine that his absence had caused this big of an impact on the other, selfish as he was back then. "I wish I had the answer to this problem. I can't really think of any way to convince you aside from the obvious. Seeing me and being able to feel me as a physical presence as proof that I'm right here." He furrowed his brows as he tried to think of something else but he was coming up with nothing.

"As for the uh...attacking me thing. I'll just poke you from afar with a broom or something. You can't attack me if you can't reach me."
 
Mason looks up at the touch, a weak smile on his face. Seeming to think nothing of it, he takes hold of Maverick’s hand, and brings it to his lap, fingertips tracing the lines of his palm. ”Thanks, Maverick. I think I just need time to adjust to having you back.” Mason laughs then, at Maverick’s suggestion. “Poke me with a broom, huh? What am I, a wild animal?” He bites his lip at his own quip, wincing. He might as well be, given how he reacts to being woken from his nightmares.

Mason changes the subject, nodding towards the sketchbook. “Making any progress on anything? Still doing those macabre landscapes you always seemed to like?” Mason is still holding Maverick’s hand, and he doesn’t even seem to realize it. His fingers are sliding against Maverick’s skin, almost tenderly, and his tumb keeps brushing the shorter man’s wrist.
 
As Mason took his hand he was slightly taken aback, though he didn't pull his hand away in the slightest. "If I said yes, would you hold that against me?" he responded, a slightly playful edge to his usually neutral voice. Just imagining Mason as some sort of ferocious beast was amusing at most but not at all how he viewed the other. Not in the least.

When the topic changed to his drawings he nodded. "Ah, for the most part yeah." He could feel his face heating up slightly as Mason continued to hold his hand, his heart once more beating quicker. He found the warm tough to be soothing. His free hand gestured to the sketch book which was currently open to one such image. He had never closed it, simply turned the page to the previous picture he had done. "I wouldn't say that I like them necessarily..." he added, unsure how to explain his preference. "I guess you could say it's a way to express the dark stuff I've seen in the past. This is the natural order of things, as grim as others might view it. We all die eventually, and death is never pretty. It's just part of life." he mused.
 
Mason can feel Maverick’s pulse increase, and can hear his heartbeat do the same. His brows pull together slightly, mind working to try and once again figure out the reason. Maverick’s reply about his sketches distracts him, and his eyes turn to the sketchbook. Even if Maverick says he doesn’t like them, he’s very good at it. “You’re not wrong there. You’re really good at it, maybe you should think about getting a job as an illustrator? Just a suggestion, you don’t have to.”

Mason’s phone goes off, then, and he sighs. Releasing Maverick’s hand, he stands and grabs his phone off the bedside table. Clearly, he’s not concerned about Mason hearing the call, as he just sits on the bed to answer it. “Mason speaking… Mhm.. Tonight?.. Yeah, I can make it, no worries.. Okay, see you later.” Mason hangs up, looking down at Maverick. “I’ve got a job tonight at one of the clubs downtown. Someone else called in sick, and they’re short a bouncer for their event.”
 
A job drawing? Maverick seemed to think about the suggestion but he wasn't so sure about it. "I suppose it's an interesting idea, but I've never really drawn anything on demand before." he replied. "I guess there will always be a market for anything, even work like this."

Maverick jumped slightly at the sudden sound of Mason's phone going off, before relaxing the moment he recognized it as a ring tone. Once Mason pulled away he looked down at the hand that had been held, lamenting the loss of warmth. The phone call was rather short and once it was finished he glanced up at the other curiously. "Oh? What sort of event?" It sounded like Mason would be dealing with the riffraff at such an event.
 
“It’s a, uh..” Mason rubs the back of his neck, trying to think about how to describe it. He gives up rather quickly, deciding honesty is best. “It’s basically a sex party. A local BDSM club rented the nightclub for an open house event. Usually things like this are to introduce new people to the community, but it often ends up being used by people looking to hook up with strangers. It does happen, and more frequently then not, it happens right at the nightclub.” Mason laughs awkwardly, shrugging. “My job mostly entails making sure it doesn’t go sour. Alcohol and events like this don’t always run smoothly.”

Mason watches Maverick, tilting his head slightly. He can’t help but imagine what it would be like to see Maverick at such an event. His cheeks burn hot at the mental image, and he shakes his head to clear it. “U-um.. Anyway, what do you want to do until then? I have to be there just before it starts to get dark.”
 
Maverick raised a brow when Mason first responded a bit awkwardly, but his expression smoothed out once the other started explaining. "Huh. Makes sense you'd need to be on the look out for trouble makers." he replied, not at all bothered with the topic itself on its own. "I don't really understand how people go to places like this looking to get laid, considering they are all strangers. The alcohol would be the only thing of interest to me." he added, certain that his lack of trust was quite obvious regarding strangers. He had never been to such an event personally so he was mildly curious.

The sudden change of topic made it clear that Mason didn't care to linger on the subject longer than necessary, at least that was how he perceived it. "Hmm, up until now I was just drawing while you slept. I wouldn't want to strain my hand though, so I guess I should find something else to do." he murmured, reaching over to grab his stuff. Given the question it was clear Mason wanted to be involved in whatever they chose to do until then. "We could...watch a movie? Make a meal? Whatever you want to do, really. Is there anything in particular you want to do?"
 
Mason opens his mouth to reply, only to be interrupted by his stomach growling. He chuckles, shaking his head. "Well, I guess that kind of makes the decision, doesn't it? Food it it." Mason stands, turning to face Maverick. "Just because I'm hungry doesn't mean you have to eat too, if you're not. But in either case, what should we make? Any suggestions or cravings?" Mason makes a 'come on' gesture with his hand, leading Maverick out of the bedroom.

Downstairs in the kitchen, Mason starts going through the cupboards and fridge. "We could make pasta, or stirfry, or lasagna. Hm, that's another kind of pasta. Oh, I think I have everything needed for butter chicken. We could do that and rice." Mason glances over his shoulder at Maverick, seeming to think. "Or we could do something more simple. I'd be worried about overloading your digestive system. You probably haven't had really spicy or rich foods in a while, hm?"
 
Hearing the sound of Mason's stomach settled things as far as what they could do. Following along after the gesture he considered some things but it all really came down to what they currently had ingredients for. Mason's suggestions weren't bad at all, but he would probably be partaking less than him regardless given his current appetite. "We could so something with less spice, just alter the recipe a little if that's the concern?" he suggested, unsure of if any of the man's suggestions were spicy at all. They certainly could be depending on preference.

"You're right though. Living off cup noodles and canned ravioli and stuff is a pretty bland experience." he admitted thoughtfully. "Butter chicken sounds good, along with the rice. Just don't make too much for me." After a moment of additional thought he leaned on the island countertop. Since they were just hanging out, they might as well do it together. He only needed to know what to do. "If there's anything simple you want done I can help. Just don't leave me at the stove." he warned.
 
Mason nods along to Maverick's words, then starts pulling things out of the cupboards, fridge and freezer. "Don't trust yourself not to burn anything?" Mason's words are teasing, and there's a smile on his face. From another cupboard, he pulls out a little wooden box full of alphabetically ordered recipe cards. Flipping through them, his fingers select a hand written recipe for butter chicken. "Here, follow this for the sauce, but add only half the Garam Masala spice."

Mason moves to open the bulk box of chicken breasts, using a knife wedged between pieces to separate them. He separates out six breasts, then puts the box back in the freezer. That done, the chicken breasts go on a plate and go into the microwave to quick defrost. "Have you made butter chicken before?"
 
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