When the lights fade out

When the lights fade out

Author: wanderingsmith
Started jan 24, 2015 - latest update feb 2, 2015 -
Summary: "The number you are trying to reach is no longer in service."
--
Barney eventually answered, dulled and quiet, "If he's finally decided to get out of the mud and blood and shit, he deserves to be left in peace to make a better life."

I really have to stop watching E3.

Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: I ain't got no money, and nobody'd be daft enough to pay me for this. As it is thought, so let it be said; you make the toys, I play with 'em..

AN: I have a feeling this is slightly Barney!OOC. -shrug- apologies

Goto Chapter 2
Goto Chapter 3
Goto Chapter 4
Goto Chapter 5

Chapter one : You ain't done nothin' wrong; but you ain't done nothin' right
jan 24, 2015

"You're a hard man to track, Knifeman."

Annoyed at being disturbed, Lee started a sluggish turn at the annoyingly familiar voice, but all he saw was a fist before it hit him smack in the face.

--

"The number you are trying to reach is no longer in service."

Barney froze at the sound of the recorded voice, as shocked as he had been at seeing Stonebanks alive a few weeks ago. A sudden crack of sound only managed to pull a small piece of his attention from the growing pain in his chest. His eyes followed the sound to the cracked remnants of another of his phones before he started walking out of his house.

He was halfway to Toll's when the thought that he had to be a danger at the wheel crossed his mind. He couldn't even remember getting in the truck. The only memory he had was of his own thoughts.

They'd landed back in the states three days ago; three days he'd spent -wasted- convincing himself everything was back to normal. That the silence in the hangar was his stress-induced hyper imagination. Now he was scrambling to remember all the hints he'd buried in his bruised psyche.

How could he have let it go? How could he not have confronted what had so obviously been a problem??

He was clumsy stepping out of the truck, the balloon of aching pain in his gut stiffening his movements.

"Barney? What the hell??"

Barney didn't let Toll pull him into the apartment, feet planted on the doorstep, staring at the man without really seeing him, "Do you know where Lee is?"

The silence that followed the question made the broken-glass sound of his voice stick out even to Barney's scattered wits, and he managed to focus on the team's amateur psychologist. The unhappy regret he saw wasn't unexpected. Wasn't even enough of a surprise to add to the hurt.

"Christmas was the one to contact *us* after... I haven't had an address for him in.. months. And I doubt the others have anything either." Toll's mouth twisted with sad knowing, "His cell?"

Barney couldn't say it. He just turned and walked away.

--

Stumbling into the hangar, he knew he should have called for a team meetup before today. Knew he should never have let grim and distant Lee take a single step away from him without...

"FUCK!" The shout reverberated in the building; even the resulting echoing roar not enough for the roiling fury building inside him. Would he NEVER stop failing his men??

The cacophony of a set of weapon-filled lockers being pushed over with every bit of his strength was still not enough and he reached for more to smash or throw; looking for something earthshaking enough to cauterize the hell that had just swallowed him.

Finally, mindlessly trying to throw a full crate, his inarticulate bellow was cut off to a scream as something in his chest stabbed pain across his muscles and he stumbled to the ground among the clattering small arms and grenades.

--

The death of friend after friend hadn't drawn a tear from him in years, nor the grief he saw in civilians, nor the grief he saw in friends, until he'd thought himself dried-up; too damaged, physically or psychologically, or both.

It fit that he'd be proven wrong now. Proven to have just been a heartless bastard. Just one more failure.

He'd forgotten the burn. The itch you got even when it was just too much light that got you, but the slow creeping burn across the eyes: that was just from this. He could still see, though. The spot he'd ended up sitting on the floor, surrounded in wreckage, was far enough from the plane that he could stare at the cockpit and see the edge of Lee's seat. Could picture him laughing after having managed to trick Barney out of a mood with some smartass comment.

He didn't bother swiping at his face as he felt the line traced down his cheek, instead shifting his eyes to another point of the hangar, seeing the past rather than the mess.

"Doing some light redecorating, Barney?"

As numb as he felt, he could think clearly now. He knew the sad quiet in Tool's voice meant he already knew what had happened. Barney didn't have words to answer, just kept staring at different spots; there was nowhere that didn't have memories.

"You know, finding people is what we do for a living."

The locker where Lee kept his civilian gear when they geared-up was next to the showers. Next to Barney's. Had been for years. They usually ended up using one of their towels to wipe the blood, and the other to dry off. He used to think soap was pretty personal, when there was an option... but it'd stopped applying to Lee, at some point. He'd never used the man's straight razor, though.

Barney eventually answered, dulled and quiet, the earlier pain and madness drained. "If he's finally decided to get out of the mud and blood and shit, he deserves to be left in peace to make a better life." He knew the man wasn't really likely to have made that choice if Barney hadn't hurt him. But he *had* tried to build a life before. Maybe without them, without Barney, to mess it up, he'd manage it.

"Barney-"

"He's one I can save. By letting him go. I owe him too much-" How many times had they patched each other's back and other hard to reach places on that chair next to the first-aid box? How many times had Lee silently taken his beer to put a glass of whisky in his hand after they'd had to walk away from a situation and leave people who deserved better than to live with the shit? "I owe him- He couldn't have made it plainer he wanted out. I have to respect that." His burning eyes fixed on the still-standing locker where Lee'd thrown his knife and no one had dared to take it out. Like a nail in a coffin.

--

Slowly swimming up from unconsciousness to the delight of a splitting headache, Lee finally squinted his eyes open, remembering as he did so the fist that had been heading for his face and was no doubt the reason his hangover was focused on his right eye, today.

And so he was less than surprised at the man sitting on the floor against the plane cabin's opposite wall. Glaring, Lee carefully pushed himself to sit against his own wall, "What the fuck are *you* doing here?"

"Tool asked me to find you. He's worried about your friend."

Shit. He let his head lean back on the wall, closing his eyes tiredly. "It was your friend that sent me away, Trench. Why don't you fuck off."

"My friend is an idiot. Thought you were better."

That claim made his lips twist with disbelief but his voice never changed and he just stared forward. He wasn't up for a fight. Not even with the aggravation that was Trench. "Stonebanks is dead. He says he has a will to live. The guys have their job back and the kids aren't too bad. I'm done."

Trench stared at him with annoying understanding that was only half-buried under a mix of mockery and worry. "..He called me, sounding more dead than alive, to me, and said he's keeping the plane but I can have the rest and he asked if he could tell his guys to call me if they wanted work. What kind of will does that sound like to you?"

It only took a heartbeat for understanding to stab through the hungover fog in his head, and then Lee felt adrenaline kick in like he'd thought he never would again. He stiffened, staring hard at Barney's fucking arrogant old whatever he was. It was one thing to let Barney have his way when he knew the guys had his back and he had his kids to keep him focused; having him give everything up after they'd fucking *won* sent Lee's every protective instinct scrambling, "...What?"

Trench smirked knowingly, starting to get up, "Your bike's already loaded. Wheels up in 10 if you need to throw up first."

AN: mostly written. just.. glaring at next couple chapters a bit more.

Chapter two : Still carryin' a flag for you, burnin' me like a brand

AN: "A bloody big birdy hunted me down and interrupted my drinking. You're the one who said we were done, Barney. And you don't need me with the crew you've got now."

He'd moved enough shit out of the way so that he could taxi out.

It took enough effort that he could, just, pretend the ache in his chest was from pushing the unhealed strain; instead of from the fucking never-ending pain in his heart. But there was no question which had his damn eyes burning again. A fucking lifetime's worth in a week. There was no question what was causing the constant ache in his *head*. Just as well he retired, he was obviously broken worse than either Toll OR Gunner; at least *their* little fault lines left them still strong.

Doc had taken one look at him yesterday, and gotten him a glass from the bar. And tried to tell him he needed to at least drink water.

God only knew what the kids had seen when they looked at him. At least they knew who Trench was; they might actually call him. Be good if they found a new home. Even if it was with Mauser.

He needed to get out of this place. Maybe if he got up off this damn crate and stopped staring at every corner of a building that had been their life for so long, maybe then he'd be able to stop the fucking water-trail down his face.

But once he left... He'd have nothing *but* his memories. The extra pulse of pain that thought caused sent more fire down his face and he hunched a little more on himself, flinching at the tightening of his chest muscles.

At least this time it was himself he'd hurt. Everybody else was going to make it fine. He just needed to get enough energy together to get the fuck out of their way.

When he heard footsteps behind him, he figured it was Tool; Trench wouldn't come here now, and none of the others would come alone, not even Doc. And there were damn few other people who'd show up unannounced, let along who wouldn't leave at the sight of the hangar's state.

Just Tool worrying. Even when he had to know it was past the time when anyone could do anything. Barney'd already been riding the edge of a bad place the last few years, too many demons after him whenever he was alone; there was never a chance he'd manage to hold out without Lee to anchor him. Hell, who were they kidding; the chances were beyond skint that he'd have survived *that* loss all on its own at any time in the last... god only knew how long. At least Lee was safe. If he kept telling himself that, maybe he'd manage to eat regular decent meals. Maybe he'd find enough will and concentration to keep busy; somewhere.

It wasn't until the steps got nearer, and he forced himself to focus outward so he could at least respond to his old friend, that he realized that Tool didn't walk like that.

And suddenly, in among his pulse taking off with a rattle, his pride kicked in and he hunched further, a hand coming up as though to catch a headache. Lee's -LEE! Here. God. Fuck. What did- Lee's steps had been too close by the time Barney caught on; he knew the water on his skin had to have been noticed in the too-bright midday light from the open bay doors. Covering his eyes hardly made a difference; but he still did it.

He listened to Lee walk past his hunched self without a word and sit himself on something a few feet in front of Barney. Listened, and tried to calm his fucking *breathing* at least! Those had been.. They'd been Lee's determined strides. Single-minded, would be stomping if he wasn't in a hurry, don't try to stop him unless you want to be snarled at. There'd been no surprised hitch at what he'd found. He'd known... Knew-

Christ. God only knew what he'd been told by their meddling friends. Why the hell had they interfered with the man's life??

But now he sat quietly, not saying a word. It didn't feel like a glare was being aimed at him, but Barney's thoughts were too fucked-up to reason out what Lee was thinking. Wasn't sure he *wanted* to. Didn't want to see that wounded look again; didn't want a stranger staring at him in anger again. He hadn't meant to hurt anyone; couldn't he have at least the memory of *his* Lee?

"You hurt your pec again?"

The question was so quiet and unaccusing that Barney should have been relieved. Except that for him to notice what Barney knew were only tiny tells within the hunch, Lee was paying eagle attention, the way he did on ops. Barney might as well just spill his soul on paper for all the secrets he'd manage to keep here.

"Just a strain." He was used to the wrecked way his voice sounded after a week of it; hearing Lee's hissed breath reminded him that he was a mess. "Why'd you come back?"

"A bloody big birdy hunted me down and interrupted my drinking. You're the one who said we were done, Barney. And you don't need me with the crew you've got now."

Barney flinched hard at the words, and then flinched again at the pain the jerk caused, tempted to raise his head to glare but too aware of the way his eyes *felt*. His voice managed to get rougher, though, cracking instead of getting louder, "You can't seriously believe that!!"

He was still trying to calm the whirlwind of denial so he could find words when he heard Lee get up, and tensed even more, though he couldn't have said against what.

"Don't." The steps stopped just behind him after passing too close for his damn pride. "Close your eyes if you have to but straighten out of that hunch before the muscle knots on you." Warm hands wrapped around the bad shoulder, starting to massage the shoulder blade and bicep to take some of the pull away, "I'm not going to look, Barney, just straighten up, come on." The hand on his shoulder lifted and came up to gently force his forehead up, and then pulled it back until Barney's head rested on Lee's chest; and Barney dropped the hand, giving in to the too-soft tone he'd rarely heard in all their years together.

Hunching *had* been killing him. But he knew that at least half the reason he could suddenly breathe properly had more to do with mental -Hell. Call it by its name, Barney!- *emotional* relief that Lee was here. *Fussing*. Caring. He could calm the fuck down a bit, suddenly. Could think. "I told you I missed you."

"You fired me. Said we 'were done'. Hired replacements. Then tried to kill yourself *alone* rather than accept our help." The hand still massaging at the knotted mess of his right side never translated any of the anger that had to be under those words, though even the tone was more tired than anything. "Eventually even *I* get the message, you know."

The old self-sacrificing voice tried to tell him to shut up, but he was too far broken this week, and- and Lee'd said he was *drinking*, not getting his life together; *fuck*! The headache pulsed, but Lee's hand on his forehead seemed to feel it and fingertips rubbed gently at his temples, effortlessly putting him in a calmer zone. "Wrong message."

"Right. Got it. The message was supposed to say 'ignore the demented idiot no matter what he says or does'."

There was nothing to say to that steady, soft-spoken jibe. For a few minutes, he let himself listen to Lee breathe, quiet and calm, let himself feel the touch of familiar caring hands. He might hate pity, but if Lee'd been drinking instead of building a life... He needed time to come up with a new plan. Time thinking more clearly than he could manage, right now.

Eventually, though, the weirdness in Lee's story started niggling at him. "How did Gunner find you?" Ex-SAS that he was, if Lee wanted to disappear, Barney wouldn't have thought Gunner, of all people, would find him. And Tool wouldn't have sent Gunner-

"Not Gunner. Your fucking pal Trench. He said he had the cops watching for the bike. You haven't seriously sold this place, have you?"

It was all said in such an even tone that Barney was thrown off, grasping the last bit first, "..Not sold." He expected Mauser to give him something for it, but it was.. *had been* the man's call how much. They both knew Barney wouldn't be needing it and didn't care. He'd cared more that Trench watch over the guys.

"...Fuck. Barney-"

The familiar exasperation made him smile. His skin was stiff with residual salt and tension, but it still felt.. good. If Lee stayed. Only why would he? Barney'd retired- He stiffened, ache in his head pulsing even with Lee's magic fingers, "Wait, *Trench* hunted you down?"

"Yeah. Claimed Tool sicced him on me. But then said you'd offered him the Expendables. And even *I* have to admit he looked worried about you when he said it; so I'd say he sicced *himself*."

"Fuck. Is there *anyone* that doesn't meddle??" He knew he should be grateful but-

Lee's snort was hard enough to shake Barney's head, "Not when you-"

When the suddenly choked-off silence got too plain, Barney sighed, "When I'm obviously a broken wreck?" Christ. Just how pitiful had he sounded on the phone to the damned prick?? 'Cause Tool wouldn't have said anything about the way he'd found him. Not to Trench.

"Naw. Just an idiot. And we love you anyway or we wouldn't all keep saving you."

...He couldn't take that seriously. It was just an expression. Breathe, Barney! "Thought you were angry." He *had* been. It had been obvious in the stiffness in every move and word between them.

"I was mad when you were trying to kill yourself. Once you cut that out and actually focused on your team," Lee shrugged, making Barney realize he was completely leaning on him as his back shifted with the movement, "You can't expect me to be *happy* that you wanted to move on, but-"

There was no way Barney could keep from snarling at that, "I don't want to fucking *move on*!"

Lee's hand on his shoulder petting and the softness in his voice made it clear he'd caught the obvious, "..Right. So I'm not mad. And.. we just have to fix this mess and we can get back to living."

Barney lowered his head to look around, annoyed at how tired the sight of the work left him.

"Don't even think about it. You're not lifting anything heavier than a drink for a week."

He tilted his head back up to whine, only half teasing, "A *week*?!?"

"Shut up. I remember last time even if you're blanking it out."

But Lee's hand came back to his forehead and Barney relaxed. Part of him wanted to snarl, but... He *did* faintly remember ending up reinjuring himself when he ignored Lee's edicts a couple years ago; and he was too...hurt to mock-snarl at Lee just yet. "Can't work in this."

"So we either take a week off and relax; don't you still have a pile of books you kept whining you want to read? Or we get the kids to put their excess energy to use."

Barney snorted, "They'd love that. Old man wrecks the place and makes them pick up after him."

Lee chuckled, "After they have to pick up those lockers they'll have to respect the old man's power."

Barney's eyes blinked open in surprise, "Was that a compliment?"

"Don't strain your chest puffing up, Zero."

Barney smiled to himself, reaching up to squeeze the rough hand still digging carefully in his pec. He hated the very idea of asking the kids to do such a thing. But right now, he couldn't even *look* at the thought of a week not knowing where Lee was. "Think I'd rather eat crow with the guys than them."

"..I'm not going anywhere, Barney." Barney's jaw twitched at the slow stroke at his temples, but he didn't try to deny or explain the fear. "I could do with a week drinking water and eating healthy Italian instead of beer."

The offer inherent in the words left Barney trying to breathe normally through the shocked catch. Rasping out of a tight throat, "Pots weigh more than a drink." Lee; staying with him! He could fall asleep listening to him breathe in the next room. Would know if he left...

"I can help."

Barney huffed, smiling widely with the slowly rising joy, "Help. You're an accident waiting to happen with food!"

"Not if you tell me what to do."

He finally forced himself to his feet and turned, reminding himself that Lee would never- He couldn't stop the hiss of shock. The dark hollows under Lee's eyes and the faintly drawn skin of his cheeks combined with the heavy beginnings of a beard to made him look like he hadn't eaten or slept in a month, never mind a week!

The mirthless tilt of his lips as he stared back at Barney said he knew it. And that Barney probably looked just as bad.

Chapter three : Intermezzo

AN: the hangar really was a mess. Which might worry him if he hadn't already known he wasn't the most stable guy in the world. He had a feeling the man relaxing his stride and settling easily into Barney's guiding grip was going to be giving him hell for the situation, sooner or later. It *wasn't* fair to Lee for Barney to need him.

When Barney stepped out of the hangar's bathroom, hair still dripping a bit from splashing some brain-waking cold water on his face, and feeling a little more human for it, Lee was fishing in Barney's jacket, finally pulling his cell out and grimacing at it before giving Barney a forced-looking wry look as he threw him the jacket, "..Should I even ask how many phones you have left?"

Barney shrugged, not having an answer. He had no idea what had survived the wreck of the hangar, at this point. The one in Lee's hand had been his house spare. Toll usually kept track of where the handful kept with the rest of the gear were; he wouldn't know if he'd thrown them down or not until he saw them on the ground.

Lee was already focused on the phone, typing as he walked, so rather than lead, Barney wrapped his good arm around the brit's waist to steer him through the mess. Lee'd held *him* close, before. And said he wasn't angry. And was staying with him.

And the hangar really was a mess. Which might worry him if he hadn't already known he wasn't the most stable guy in the world. He had a feeling the man relaxing his stride and settling easily into Barney's guiding grip was going to be giving him hell for the situation, sooner or later. It *wasn't* fair to Lee for Barney to need him. Or at least for him to *know* Barney needed him.

"Thanks."

Barney nodded at the distracted word, knowing Lee would feel it, as close as they. When they got near the door, the blinding light of the sun made Barney pull his sunglasses on in a hurry, but he felt Lee's body flinch violently.. and remembered that he'd said he'd been drinking. And looked terminally hungover. When the brit hunched and didn't reach for glasses, Barney took his off and handed them over wordlessly as he stopped the man outside the doors while Barney secured the hangar.

He didn't want to think of Lee crawling back in the bottle he'd been in when Barney found him, all their years ago. Didn't... Couldn't accept that Lee wouldn't grab a chance at a better life. Of all the things that Barney had always fought for, the hope that his men, his *friends* -hell, Luna had it right: his *family*- would live to get themselves better lives was the strongest. That Caesar would be around when his kids grew and maybe be able to have contact. That Toll and Gunner would find something -something *healthy*- in life to anchor them. That Lee would find someone to love him as he deserved.

Tool, Yang, a handful of old friends; hell, even Trench. Billy might have wanted to live the most, but in the silence of his black heart, Barney wanted the best for *all* of the mercenary lot of them. No matter how impossible it sometimes seemed.

He'd thought- *assumed* that Lee would be fine. The man might seem like an unstable firework to public eyes, but Barney'd always felt a solid anchor at his core. The handle he flew off of never got out of Barney's reach; the rhythm and flow of his rants was familiar and steady and left Barney calm and cool and- Why the hell would Lee- WHY??

How did he *fix* it?

As they got to the truck, Lee handed him back the phone and glasses, "Here," Barney didn't need to look to know Lee's contact info would be fixed, and the thing would probably be working faster, too, and he pocketed it with more care than he usually had for technology, aware he was being foolish, but... Lee watched him quietly, then nodded to his bike, parked next to the truck, "I'll follow you home."

--

Just before they got to the downtown stretch of the drive, Lee watched the truck's right flicker turn on and he slowed, carefully riding up to the driver's door when it stopped on the shoulder.

Frowning to see Barney with his head back against the seat, he knocked on the window, reluctantly flipping up his visor as Barney lowered the glass, and waiting for the man to talk to him.

Once the window was down, Barney turned to look at him, the downturn of his lips too damn tired, and tight with what Lee read as embarrassment. "Gotta stop by the grocery. Not much in the house."

That hardly seemed a reason for embarrassment. Until he remembered Barney'd handed off the Expendables. He wouldn't do that unless he was walking away from- Shit. Ok, *not* having that conversation here. "Let me put the bike in the back." It wasn't right to treat Barney as *that* breakable, but... The rubble in the hangar hadn't shocked him. Finding Barney cracked open in the middle of it.. It hadn't just been for the sake of Barney's pride that he'd told him to keep his eyes closed; *he'd* felt like he was all but crying himself.

Even when he was fucking the team up, fucking *himself* up, Barney was larger than life, he was- Lee'd *never*, in all the years that Barney'd trusted Lee to be at his back so he could jump Bogart on some bad guy and Lee would keep him from falling over, he'd *never* worried Barney'd break. Go apeshit, sure. Make the wrong call, sure. Barney was as human as the rest of them. He just never broke; even when he seemed to go nuts, he always seemed to have some grip on control that Lee could never understand.

It hurt, bad, to think of that annoying calm broken; but they couldn't have that out while sitting besides a busy road.

He knew he'd seriously been missing too many meals when he actually had to strain to lift the Ducati onto the open tailgate. And for a minute he slumped; unable to find the metaphorical strength. Too much of his strength had been tied to Barney, for years now. Keeping the bike.. had probably been stupid; if he couldn't lift the damn thing, he sure as fuck couldn't be trusted to control it, and shouldn't be driving it.

At a honk from a passing 18-wheeler, his eyes flashed open, not having realized he'd closed 'em, and happened to be looking at Barney's favourite dead chicken, drawn on Lee's bike. He clenched his jaw; hell if he was giving up! Barney needed him and he was going to be there for him to catch himself from falling over; he'd said he wasn't going to take shit from the idiot anymore and he wasn't. Barney was stuck with him until one of them bought the fucking farm, and that was that; it was just his turn to be the strength. He could do that.

With new purpose, he laid down the bike and quickly stretched the tarp Barney kept strapped to the truck bed over it and strapped it down, then climbed back down and took his helmet off as he walked back to the driver's door, opening it this time to meet Barney's raised brows with a nod at the passenger seat, "Scoot over. I'm driving."

He was glad he'd chosen to be his pushy self when Barney lost the pained edge and did that little happy smile to himself thing as he clambered over the console between the seats. It was stupid the way they couldn't resist challenging each other; Barney should have told him to get the fuck out of the way so he could climb out and walk calmly around like a sane person.

Then again, Lee had never been above taking advantage of an opportunity to ogle his tight-jean-covered ass.

--

Standing in Barney's backyard always felt weird. Most of the trees the man had planted all around the tiny space when he bought the house were now big enough for Lee to climb. They made the place seem like a clearing in some giant forest. Instead of a poststamp yard in a mid-sized American city.

He heard the phone pick up on the cell at his ear and focused back on what he had to say.

"Yeah?"

"Smilee. Christmas."

"Oh thank *god*!"

Lee's brows flew up at the exclamation, "Sorry??"

The snort he heard was closer to the tone he'd expected this to go, "None of us particularly wanted to go work for someone else, man. Or go back to our other lives. You guys obviously get in crazy stupid shit, but..."

Lee was smiling by then, suddenly a lot less pissed with the new team members. "Yeah. I know."

"Right. So. Old man back on track? We can ignore that whole fucked-up speech?"

The word 'speech' made Lee wince. "..I can't vouch for the whole speech. Barney's not handing the Expendables to Trench, and you guys are welcome to stay. I'd say things'll go back to normal, but you don't know what that is. -Don't," he interrupted the huff he heard, "Get huffy. I just mean we don't actually *usually* go off on suicide missions," he hesitated, "Not.. *often*. What you guys went through is *not* the usual op."

"Ok. ..Guess it's gonna take a while to stop snarling at each other, uh?"

Lee laughed, "Hate to tell ya, k- Smilee, but we all *still* snarl at each other."

"Right." He heard the knowing smile in the word and Lee nodded to himself.

Right. "So. Boss doesn't want to ask this because he tends to be a demented idiot about some shit, but he smashed up the hangar good. And managed to reinjure an old weak spot in the doing so I'm not letting him lift anything for a week. You could render him speechless if you happened to be just hanging out in the cleaned place when we walk in next week."

The laugh on the other end of the line was amused rather than the other variants it could have been, "Sounds like fun. We get to rearrange things to suit ourselves?"

Lee snorted, "My next call is to the 'old guys'. Toll'll tell you about anything that actually has to be in a spot." And then some.

"Damn."

Lee just laughed, hanging up without another word.

Taking a look through the back door window to be sure Barney hadn't snuck in the kitchen instead of reading in peace while Lee schemed, he decided to test the idea that he could actually climb that cypress, and grinned a minute later as he found himself a spot to hitch a knee on a branch and call, leaves half-hiding him from any nosy friend.

This time he knew to pay attention from the getgo; there wouldn't be more than one ring before-

"Yeah?"

"Toll-"

"Oh thank fucking god!"

Lee was startled into another laugh, "You guys are going to give me a complex!"

"What?"

"Just called Smilee and got the same response."

Toll sighed and Lee's smile dropped at the serious edge to it. "Yeah, well, you can't blame the kid. They go and survive their suicide mission, and still end up without a job. Not the kind of action that adrenaline junkies enjoy so much."

"I know. I didn't do this deliberately." Not that it had been his idea; not really. But the responses were getting to him.

"None of us thought that, Christmas."

He grimaced to himself at the not-useful soothing remark, reminding himself Toll meant well: Lee's temper wasn't the other man's fault. "Yeah. Listen. Barney.. kinda lost it in the hangar."

"Yeah. Tool mentioned it."

"Right. And strained his pec again. So I told him no lifting for a week. And went behind his back and asked Smilee if they'd clean it up since Barney's pride was flinching from it."

Toll chuckled, "We'll help them out; they're not so bad. Just need some of the arrogance molded. You gonna make sure the boss actually takes the time off?"

"Thanks. And yeah; I'm making sure he behaves."

"I'll get the other two new guys up to speed too. ..Take care of him. He looked..."

Lee flinched at the worried request and replied just as quietly, "I know."

"Not your fault, Christmas. He fucked up and should have owned to it and talked to ya."

AN: source: IMDB: Ducati Desmosedici RR. only weighing 377 pounds (171 kg).
source: http://www.exrx.net/Testing/WeightLifting/DeadliftStandards.html Lee aught to be able to lift 400lb. so getting the bike onto the truck is easily stuntable ;) can two-step it with the tailgate at worst.

It's a theory... sometimes posting the first part of a chapter makes separating with the second part easier... so yeah. Next part is written. Just needs.. glaring at

Chapter four : Name it

AN: Wait.. was there even still a bed in the house??

When he walked into the living room, Barney was still in the seat Lee'd browbeat him into to relax, but he was staring blindly into the distance rather than at the book flopped open on his lap. Unseen for the moment, Lee sagged back against the door frame, actually letting himself react to the pain that ripped through him to see Barney in such bad shape. He'd seen him covered in blood and bruises, and with broken ribs to boot, without it hurting like this. His eyes were still swollen, black sleepless bruises under them. Harder even to see was how drawn his skin had gotten. Neither of them were young anymore. There'd been a time when *he* could go on a bender for a hell of a lot longer than a week without looking like an escaped prisoner of war. Been a time Barney had skipped sleep the length of an op without the years suddenly pushing their way through his skin.

They couldn't afford to do this to each other.

They'd wordlessly ended up grabbing a couple premade sandwiches in the deli and eaten them slowly in the truck, easing into empty and upset stomachs, which was the only reason they were now relaxing rather than hurrying to make something edible. And the only reason that Lee decided now was as good a time as any to talk.

Five steps got him to the footrest in the middle of the armchair and couch arrangement and he sat himself down in front of Barney who focused in on him with the better attention he'd started to show once he ate.

"Just what were you going to do with the place?" 'Cause he'd seen just how bare the cupboards were as they put away the basics Barney had gotten: the place had been stripped. Even most of the living room shelves were empty, hopefully just packed on the plane Trench had said he was keeping. That book, a few more that looked as new, and a bunch of knick-knacky stuff, had been left behind haphazardly.

For a few seconds, Barney frowned in what looked like honest confusion, but then he caught on and looked away, "Just leave it." He stopped and looked surprised before shaking his head with a hard laugh, "Ironically enough... It goes to you in my will."

Lee froze, breath jamming for several seconds before his brain clicked back on and he exhaled loudly. "Didn't know I was in your will." He hadn't realized he was shaking until he heard his voice, and then it was too late to hide it. The pained look that slipped back on Barney's face said his ears were still all too fine.

His *house*, for fuck's sake! ..And god only knew what else, for that matter.

Watching Barney look away, never commenting on Lee's choice of seats, any more than he'd asked where Lee thought he'd sleep, the years of blind-eyed silence floated in the room like dampers. But those dampers were shredded by the pain they'd riven through each other lately. Silence had failed and Lee wasn't going to let it stand.

"Why didn't we ever talk about this, Barney?"

Barney turned back to him with a surprised look, "Talk about putting you in my will? I wasn't asking you to do anything. I'd never heard you needed to tell people when you left them shit."

Lee stared him for a minute before he was convinced the man actually didn't understand what he meant. As opposed to sneakily asking Lee to drop it.

"Not the will. -Shit!" he glared, shot of fury suddenly hitting him, "*That's* what you meant when you said you had a will, isn't it?? Damn it, Barney!" He tried to calm himself as Barney stared at him like he was losing it. Which he might yet. Why the hell was he Barney's friend, dammit?? His hands jerked up, the reflex to hit scrambled at the last second into fruitless flailing by it being **Barney** that was driving him nuts, "I *thought* you meant you had a bloody will to LIVE!"

The serious calm that came down on Barney's face was as familiar as a knife handle in Lee's palm and he knew the idiot was mentally back on that day before he said a word. "I do, did, have that too."

The 'kind of' that belonged at the end of that sentence hung in the air, both of them perfectly aware of it. No way not to be after what Lee had been privy to. When Barney lightened up and huffed with a tiny smile, Lee's teeth clenched, not ready to relax, but the man spoke up before Lee could snarl, "I wouldn't have fucking run so hard for that damn rope -*and* hung on while you all sat and made fun!- if I didn't, Christmas."

Lee's eyes closed as the memory stabbed out again, remembered terror and pain blinding him to reality. 'Wait wait wait wait!' But the bastard didn't! And they were in the air before Lee could-

"Lee!" The hand gripping his shoulder hard finally pulled him out of the too-familiar nightmare and Lee's eyes jerked open to lock onto Barney's, inches away, worry and a world of regret leaving them dull and strained again.

"I'm alright." He reached up and patted the hand on his shoulder, trying to smile against the stiff feeling of his face. It was done. Barney was safe. Alive. No, not just alive: safe with Lee. Safe.

"No. You're not."

"..No, I'm not. Neither are you. And that's what we never talked about."

This time he knew Barney had gotten his drift when he pulled back, looking suddenly wary and.. vulnerable. Expecting a punch, almost, but unwilling to defend himself. In a way, Lee wasn't surprised: he'd known he'd be the one having to lead here. Barney was never going to ask for anything for himself; let along anything like this. Let along from Lee.

But that exposed air.. Lee'd already said he was here to stay. Barney had no reason to be wary; not if all he needed to heal up was their friendship. Not when he knew damn well Lee wasn't *that* much of a talker. But then, if Barney had brought up *talking* before all this, Lee would have worried. Worried about secrets coming out that could mess-up friendships. They might both have kept what they felt for each other silent, but they'd each, over the years, let slip that they cared. And knew the other cared. They weren't blind to *that*. But if Lee's bet -wish- with himself that the day's evidence pointed to Barney caring in the same way as Lee did was right, then, *then* he could understood the look.

On that belief, Lee was willing to take the chance of the memory of an uncomfortable conversation if he turned out to be wrong. Because what Barney was missing was that *that* was the worst thing that could happen here; 'cause Lee knew damn well that after the damage they'd done to each other, neither of them was going to turn their back on the other, even if it turned out that what they each.. *wished for* was different, Lee knew they'd find a compromise. Hell, even if it took a while for them to get over a bit of the awkwards, it'd be a world better than *this*!

"Barney. We can't risk doing this to each other again just 'cause... neither of us talks." He shrugged at the grimace that crossed Barney's face, agreeing that 'talking' was a pain. "I guess I *should* have told you, 'cause I *do* ask you to do a few things. Namely give whatever money I have to a couple charities. And the bike goes to you to do with as you choose, even though I know you won't ride it. And my blades." He raised a hand when Barney went to interrupt, "Never mind. Wills aren't the issue. The fact that we're each-" his jaw clenched, looking for the right word. It was simple in his head, for fuck's sake! "That we- love.. each other way fucking past pals who work together, is what we need to-" Shit! Annoyed at his words suddenly abandoning him, Lee's hands jerked again, his eyes dropping, wishing he could punch something. Until Barney's hands grabbed them and held them still between the two of them.

His eyes flew back to Barney's in surprise.

"Each other?"

Quiet. But not denying, not letting Lee flounder through this alone. Lee nodded, his shoulders relaxing. Okay, Barney wasn't going to deny or fight. Okay. Step one. Good step.

Barney nodded back, then took a deep breath before sighing it out and looking down at their interlocked hands. "What did you have in mind?"

Lee huffed quietly, but staring at Barney's battered boxer's hands keeping his from flailing, he felt steady. Felt a smile pull at his face, and words settle on his tongue. "Talking about it; about.. *us*, and.. life, and-" he swallowed the thick feeling in his throat; no danger, Lee, remember? "And sharing that life. Staying here," even with Barney nodding at even *those* heavy words, he consciously made his voice quiet and undemanding, "Dragging you to bed. Kissing you." He started to really grin when Barney's head flew up, eyes wide with shock. Because that was *good* shock, the kind that had disbelieving *joy* behind it trying to make lips curl into a grin as Barney stared at him. "Probably not in that order." As a matter fact, with that response...

He stood up and pulled gently on the hands still held together, gentle enough to give Barney the message that he wasn't insisting; just 'cause Barney liked the idea didn't mean he was up for it *now*... When they stood face to face, he took a step around the stool and another backwards, getting them to the couch, grinning into Barney's faint smile.

The couch was at least long enough for them, and laying himself on his back with Barney on top was comfortable enough. Weird, maybe. The man was solid muscle and not light *or* soft. But they still slotted together like they'd done this for years, and once they were, Lee could breathe fine. His hands ended up laying on Barney's shoulder blades and his fingertips didn't try to resist the urge to slowly trace the muscles under the T-shirt, loving the power in Barney's minute shifts.

Barney's slow grin was even better, hiding some of the damage to his eyes, even at such close range. Pretty eyes. Lee mentally laughed at himself: he could stare all he liked, now! "What happened to the bed?"

"Talk before." But Lee tipped his head up to touch his lips to that old familiar grin, first. It was just a quick touch. Making a point.

Even if that point turned out to be that neither of them was inclined to 'quick' once their tongues slicked along each other. Slow. So fucking slow, and lips and teeth and wet and deep and hot, and- god!

By the time Barney pulled off, just enough for them to breathe, Lee was firmly pressed into the cushions by the body he was gripping tightly at waist and nape. He took a few gulps of air before he could manage to rasp, "So. Glad the want- is mutual too. Been with a guy before?"

There were slow, confused blinks of darkened eyes before Barney managed to mutter, still staring at Lee's lips -which made Lee grin. And very slowly lick his lower lip, watching Barney's pupils widen some more-, "Yeah."

Oh fuck! The gravel in that voice didn't sound like pain anymore; more like threat and promise, and sent a fucking megawatt of lust zapping at his balls! "Good. At least one of us has practical knowledge then." Fuck.. he knew damn well he'd had other shit he wanted to at least pull out of the silent box. Other things they needed to talk through at some point. But.. with that solid, warm weight relaxed on his chest.. Lee just didn't have much inclination to think; and he could feel that Barney's head was in the same.. vision *he* was.

Still, he was *sorta* glad to see Barney open his mouth before Lee came up with anything else to say; it'd *have* to be easier and better if they both worked at this.

"..Lived with someone before?"

At least that was an easy one: he'd only managed three days with Lacy before they'd both said hell no; that didn't count. "No. You?"

"No."

Lee chuckled, making himself breathe calm, fingers twirling soft, and stupidly dark for a guy past retirement age, hair. Soft and just slick enough not to catch on his callouses: easy to get lost in. "That could be a challenge."

"..Maybe. Can't be that much worse than sharing my plane."

Huffing at the glee under the words, where annoyance would have been natural, Lee tugged gently on his soft handhold until their lips just touched, "Especially when we can kiss each other out of bad moods." Or fuck. Just rub off their fury at shitty jobs on Barney's hard, hot thigh, Lee's back to the hard, cold cabin wall, Barney's cock digging into *his* thigh, their moans mixed and echoing through the plane..

Barney chuckled, tilting his head to close his teeth along Lee's jaw, "Won't be so many bad moods in the first place."

His hips rocking firmly into Lee's made it clear they were on exactly the same page, and both Lee's hands dropped to grip at tight ass cheeks; wishing, now, they weren't encased in quite such fitted jeans, so he could squeeze at muscles, rather than just grind their erections against each other and moan with the pleasure of growing arousal. Why the FUCK hadn't one of them forced this into the open years ago, again??

The unhesitating lips and tongue hard against his, and heavy hands holding his skull in place insistently were unfamiliar, but feeling Barney's breath pant as hard as his was an entirely welcome real version of daydreams.

Talking could wait 'till after bed.

Wait.. was there even still a bed in the house??

AN: I did get a bit of a picture of an epilogue, but not sure if it's going to come next. I'd really rather get Hulk further along... if hte muses would just cooperate??

Chapter five : Rising sun
feb 2, 2015

AN: -shrug- Hulk is stubborn

Toll'd, unsurprisingly, been the one to come up with the idea to keep coming to the hangar to hang out together, even after the place was cleaned up. 'Bonding' and all that jazz. John wasn't particularly interested in forced small-talk on the best of days, but after chatting while sharing the physical labour of undoing the mess that *one* guy -old enough to be his *grandfather*, for fuck's sake!- had done, the weird amalgam that made up the Expendables had found stuff to talk about. So it wasn't that much of an imposition to keep showing up for a long lunch. And he wasn't about to deny that knowing the guys that were gonna walk into fire with you was plain smart.

And then late last night, they'd all gotten a text from Christmas that he and Ross were coming out to the hangar this morning. So lunch had changed to breakfast around the now *two* coffee makers. And *that* had long since turned into a knife competition -the fourth damn time Thorn tried to beat the Doc-, a judo demonstration -John winced at Galgo's yelp: Luna was having way too much fun-, and a three-way argument over rifles with Toll on the sidelines throwing verbal popcorn. John and the team's tattooing organizer, Tool, who'd gotten the new Expendables set with their own skull tats the day after Christmas had blown back into town, were taking in the show with coffees and Tool's cigars.

Some jobs were weirder than others.

The sound of the truck driving up to the main doors they'd left closed to not announce their invasion, along with parking their transportations behind the building, didn't seem to register with the combatants, but both Toll and Tool joined him turning their heads toward the side door 10 feet away in anticipation.

John was pretty curious himself.

As tired as Ross had looked when they first met, he'd looked like the fucking walking dead last week. The old team all said that wasn't the old man's MO but- He could just hear two faint voices coming closer over the low din of the room and watched the door. At the least hoping to see that speechless surprise Christmas had promised.

"Well now..."

Tool's quiet voice was drowned out by the unfamiliar burst of laughter as the door opened. And out the corner of his eyes, John saw everyone in the room turn. Which was just as well, 'cause he sure as hell wouldn't have wanted to convince any of the guys of what he was seeing!

A week of healthy eating and sleeping really *could* work miracles. Ross looked.. well hell. Like a middle-aged guy so fucking happy that his smile covered half his face... And from the exclamations he could hear around him, *that* hadn't been the man's MO either.

Then the boss looked away from the grin Christmas had been giving him and froze, the wide smile fading and eyes widening as he stared at the team staring back at him.

His arm never moved from Christmas' back, though.

There was a minute of silence as the picture held, then Ross grinned, *slightly*; much more natural-looking. "Not disturbing you, are we?"

"Not at all, Barney! Just a friendly breakfast between colleagues." Tool's smile had been a familiar sight since they'd met, and the laid-back, teasing tone equally familiar.

The wry twist to his grin said Ross knew it well, too.

John looked at Christmas, not sure what he expected from the cocky Englishman who was apparently Ross' SIC. At the least for the man to be moving into the room to greet his friends with some smartass remark while the boss came up with something to say to them. Not for him to still be standing by the man with his body-language saying he had no plan to move. And Ross' arm still hadn't moved. Uh. Okay. Well *that* explained the boss going around the bend.

"Not only did you show up for breakfast the day we come in, but you manage to clean the place up before eating? Impressive." Ross' wry look was on Christmas now, though even John could see there was nothing remotely annoyed in it. "Almost like a little birdy-"

"Who you calling *little*, Zero?" John wasn't the only one to choke at that patently false snip.

"The guy who's the same height *I* am, Lee. Also the guy who's pushing his luck."

Christmas' arm looked like it poked rather than just come to rest on the boss' back, backed up by a firm look that bellied just who was 'boss', "You are *not* lifting, Barney," the man turned to them, and the smile was long gone now, replaced by a glare that stopped at each person, "Unless lives are in danger: you hurt yourself, you fucking let yourself heal. Normally *he'd* give you that lecture, except he doesn't take his own fucking advice unless he has a keeper." He turned back to Ross, still glaring, "Until you can punch me without flinching, you don't lift anything heavier than a fucking coffee cup-" his finger rose to point at Ross' opening mouth, "Not a word! I meant what I said earlier, *don't* make me repeat it!"

Considering that that made the boss start to chuckle and grin wide again, 'earlier' could be when he'd cracked up, and John wished Christmas *would* repeat it. And he bet the rest of the room did too.

Lee was half expecting Barney to get defencive. He'd realized too late that the rant was a little too sharp for company to see. Especially when half the company wasn't already used to the two of them and their Odd Couple routine. He'd gotten spoiled with a week just about entirely alone. Just him and Barney and a bed. And soft grass under sheltering trees. And the kitchen counters, bathtub, shower stall, and most of the uncluttered walls of the house. They'd gone out for food and to get Lee new shit to replace the stuff he hadn't bothered to clutter the bike with.

But other than that, it'd just been him and Barney, free to say whatever they wanted without anyone to judge sappiness or insolence; just two old friends who'd always been blunt with each other and were now lovers, learning to show the love they had for each other.

Seeing a slightly more controlled version of his earlier guffaw that had both shocked Lee, and made him want to kiss the annoying bastard's brains out, made the tension that had started to pull at him just vanish. ..He was going to have to learn not to melt for those soft eyes, though.

Barney's arm left his back to hold in front of himself, "Settle down, Christmas. I'll be good." He turned a quieter smile on the crowd, "Whatever he said to make you pick up after me, I appreciate it."

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