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“Sorry about Lucy, man. About all of it. It’s my fault you got into this, this wasn’t your fight.”John turns his eyes forward out the windshield, sets his gritty-feeling gaze safely back into the yellow wedge of road the headlights of the Kaludis’ old beater are carving out of the night.“You got nothin’ to be sorry about.”The kid has been quiet, which doesn’t seem like his thing, but John can admit that up to now, he hasn’t really minded much. There’s a thin sliver of headache pulsing behind the bridge of his nose, and it’s hard to really hear anything above the constant, unrelenting looped refrain that makes up his thoughts.
hang on baby, daddy’s coming for you, hang on lucy baby, hang on hang on
But now there’s something else, too.He can feel it, whenever the kid looks at him. Furtive and unsure, but always coming back. Always unable to stay set anywhere else for too long.He had almost started to think it was something else, maybe. Something else that brought the kid out into the driveway. Something else that had him dropping that skinny ass down next to him on the crappy old cigarette-burned upholstery, and all-too-happily, obediently buckling up.But guilt. Yeah, guilt made a hell of a lot more sense.“You didn’t have ta do this, y’know. You could be back there with the Warrior, in that Bat-Cave he’s got, playing video games and trading pokey-man cards. Talking ’bout all the girls ya didn’t actually make out with in high school…”They also had lights and heat and one other little thing John certainly couldn’t guarantee to provide out here.John tightens his grip on the wheel, remembers the kid trembling under his hands as John covered him; first bullets, and then goddamned cars, flying overhead. He remembers the way they clenched when Freddy tried to hustle the kid a little too hands-ily out of his place. Still.Matt would have been safe there.John waits it out, the heavy second that ticks by before Matt gives a quiet little snort.“Pokey—? You mean Pokémon? And it’s Warlock. Not Warrior, not War-lord, and not – what was it, Ham-hock? Don’t think I don’t know you do it on purpose, man.” He doesn’t even mention the Bat-Cave thing.“…Though still haven’t figured out why,” the kid adds, and by the way it’s muffled, John can tell before he looks over at him that the side of his thumb will be pressed tight up against his lips, his teeth hunting nervously after a hangnail.John can feel the smirk, but he turns his eyes forward again. To be fair, he hasn’t really figured it out either.But he is smart enough to recognize it’s the same reason his fingers start to itch again on the wheel. __ John kills the engine.He looks over at the kid, who is watching him, of course. That apprehensive, waiting way he always does.“What?” But before John can open his mouth the kid seems to be answering his own question. “Don’t say it,” he begs, with a sarcastic little tip of his head, “ask me if I wanna stay in the car. It’s a high security facility McClane! And I get it, you got a lot to deal with, and it’s Lucy and the last thing you wanna do is be babysitting wussy, geeky civilians but. Hello?” He pauses his little tirade to point a finger at the side of his head. “FBI blacklist hacker? Sidekicks are totally underrated. And this is Gabriel your’e up against, and,” he breaks off, on a nervous little laugh, “let’s face it, technology isn’t really your strong suit—I just. I mean, I actually have skills that might help in this particular situation! So—McClane? Mc—"John slams the car door on the rest, but he can hear the other one open and shut behind him and the sound of Matt’s quiet cursing as he hurries to catch him up. __ “Shit.”The grass outside Woodlawn is wet under their shoes with nighttime dew. And of course the kid slips – his palms coming down against the steeply sloping bank hard enough to probably take off a bit of the skin.“Bet that basement’s lookin’ pretty good now, huh?”“Oh, whoa, okay,” Matt says, feet scrambling for purchase on the sodden grass as John hauls him up, planting his own boots firmly enough to let the kid stumble forward into him, clutching flustered and haphazardly at his right bicep. “Unnecessary.”Not quite immediately letting go.He’s not sure whether or not he’s meant to hear the rest as he turns his back in the dark, to keep trudging up the slope, but he has his suspicions.“…Not to mention distracting,”Yup. There it is again. But now is sure as hell not going to be the moment John figures it out either. __ “How’s that asthma?” he says, under his breath, as they are side-stepping their way along, backs skimming the bricks of the wall behind them. Making for the razor-wire flanked edge to have a peek around the side, try to scope out an entrance.“It’s actually surprisingl— oh. Oh you’re. With the teasing now. Fine that’s, yeah, great. Helpful.”Teasing, the kid calls it.John makes fists out of his tingling, itching fingers and moves.
hang on baby, hang on…
__ “Okay this looks like it controls the cooling system from the mainframe, which should be…” Matt rambles, setting out his keyboard and plugging in everything that he needs. “If I can just hack in, trip the alarm, it might alert Bowman.”It works, and Matt is busy crowing about it. Eyes alight and slim-fingered hands making little fists of victory in the air.“Yeah, check me out!” Matt cheers. John can feel himself smirking in a way that could absolutely let on that he thinks maybe he might have, a few times already. But Matt is too busy celebrating to notice. ”How’s your wimpy little sidekick looking now? And you were worried it would just be a babysitting gig!”Whoa whoa whoa.“Never said I didn’t want you along for the ride, kid.”“What then? Is it some kind of macho, stoic thing?” Matt asks, with an impatient gesture that looks like it’s meant to indicate the general breadth of his chest, and folded arms. “Do you cleverly mask pain with irritability and like, that – yeah that!” His open-palmed gesture is aimed vaguely at his face this time, “that frowny, subtly intimida— scowl, it’s a scowl,” he concludes.“Both commonly known by the way as clear and obvious indicators of pain. So.”Matt turns back to his keyboard, his raised voice dying off to a smart-assed mutter.“Relax kid, I toldja, that’s not what I’m tryin’ to say.”“What then?” Matt says, cantankerously over his shoulder as he types. “Do… fuckin’ tell, because I swear, if I hear one more time how my weak, nerdy ass could just stay— ”“Thank you.”It’s quiet, but despite all appearances, Matt is always listening when he talks.“…Oh.”He could get used to it.“Yeah.” Maybe sometime after this, he would get the chance to try.“Well I— No, of course. I mean. Don’t mention. …McClane.”The happy little grin Matt turns on him is lopsided, like he’s too surprised to get both sides of his mouth in on the act. He pushes a hand distractedly into his hair, to tug groundingly on it a moment. He blinks. It’s still a little mussed when he puts his hand down and turns back to his beloved ‘gear’.And when that itch in John’s fingers starts, urging him to reach out and smooth it down himself, it’s maybe not so much of a big mystery anymore.“Lemme see if I can get a floorplan of this place…" Matt says.Hang on baby, John thinks. We’re coming.