✈ With Each Time I Breathe • Joe/Dex

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With Each Time I Breathe
Joe/Dex
3k • loose sequel to Take Control and Atmosphere



Joe was completely floored when he found out that Dex actually owned a flat.

His partner popped his gum and shrugged one shoulder as he said, "It's not like I don't make enough money, and I don't sleep in the lab all the time, y'know."

He did know, he dimly remembered that Dex was sometimes not there in the middle of the night, when he got restless and wandery, but that little fact had always managed to slip away in the face of Joe's conviction that Dex would always be there when he needed him. Most of the workers on his base had homes - lives and families, but Dex had always been different, and he'd never mentioned anything in the outside world, not really. And Joe, well. Joe slept on a mattress in one of the spare rooms on base. It was hard for him to imagine what a real life was like.

So he sputtered when Dex told him about the flat, protested when he said he needed a weekend off to go there, and went completely silent when Dex said, "You should come with me."

The offer was made so easily, so casually. He couldn't've known that Joe had never had anything in his life that wasn't transient, or maybe he did. Maybe that was why he offered. Maybe he was telling Joe, 'you're welcome in every part of my life, y'know'. Or maybe he was just being polite.

"Bring some of your stuff, will ya? The spare room's a little small for two."

Or maybe he was inviting Joe to share a future, together.

✈
The flat was not what Joe expected. He should have, really. He should have trusted that the Dex he knew wasn't going to up and change on him, and anything outside of what they had was just as trivial to his partner as it was to Joe.

It was empty. Mostly empty, anyway. There was a bed, a radio, a phone. There was a bunch of paper and pencils, because Dex never went anywhere without bringing something to write on, and he had quite a few stacks of cardboard boxes scrawled with marker - 'Books', 'Comics', 'Photos', 'Toys'. When Joe peeked inside he could see that they were mostly childhood things and the older archives of Dex's comic book collection. It wasn't a flat, really. It was a storage space with a bonus bed.

"What, were you expecting me to have some sort of life out here?" He grinned and snapped his gum. "It's Yonkers, that's practically the boonies. Gimme a little credit, boss."

Joe did, or he should have, but another part of him found that he liked the flat quite a lot. He wasn't going to settle down any time soon, far from it, but it'd be nice to have a place to come home to. A place that really was a home.

✈
As it turned out, Dex had nephews, which was the entire reason he'd needed a weekend off. His sister Kathleen lived just a few blocks away in a nice little town house, with a nice little husband and three rambunctious boys. Dex was hugely popular with them, of course, but the second Joe stepped in it was clear that they'd just found their newest favorite uncle. Dex had talked about him. Dex had been talking about him for years, it seemed, and Kathleen had been the first to know about her brother's little boycrush, and everything that had happened since then.

"...and then he was off after you with not even a telegram, gone for months, and what was I supposed to think?"

Joe stammered, trying to reassure Big Sister that he hadn't gotten Baby Brother almost killed, when it was patently obvious that he had.

She leaned forward and tapped his hands, smiling that same twisted smile as her brother. "That you were worth it, of course," she said. "Dexter's got a good heart. The best. And from all he's told me, I just knew you were someone worth fighting for."

Joe didn't know what to say. He hadn't known there was a higher compliment than a medal, a deeper meaning than I love you. It took his breath away.

✈
"Joseph Sullivan!"

Oh, god. He knew that voice. It made him freeze in terror, and of course she'd arrived at the worst possible moment, when he was painting the goddamn molding and couldn't get down from the ladder in time. Dex, spotting him on the ladder and mixing paint, rolled his eyes and went to fend off the cavalry.

"I can't believe you two! You don't have any milk in your refrigerator!"

Or perhaps the ladder was the safest place for him right now. If Polly was going to wander in unannounced, while they weren't even done painting, to complain about the state of their kitchen - no, perhaps it was best to be up near the ceiling, out of the reach of her one-woman warzone.

"Polly, we're still painting the bedroom - "

"You. Don't. Have. Milk."

A second later, Dex rushed into the bedroom and shut the door. "She screeched at me," he hissed, fear evident in his eyes. "And then she stomped out like we'd personally offended her! What the hell did you do, Joey?"

"I think it's her time of month," he muttered, mulishly. "Let's just give her reign over the kitchen until we're done moving in, how about that?"

Dex gave him a long, dubious look. "Are you suggesting we actually eat what she cooks?"

"Don't be stupid. We'll get a dog or something. Haven't you always wanted a dog?"

✈
They ended up with corgi named Krypto, because the landlord wouldn't let them have anything bigger and Dex had been left in charge of naming her. Yes, her. Joe didn't much care, as long as he could feed it anything that Polly cooked for them, but as it turned out she wasn't all that bad a cook. Nothing five star, but it was edible, and most importantly it was better than either of the boys could do. The one thing she wasn't allowed to make was desserts, which of course meant she was constantly trying. Joe got around this by moving the sugar, and periodically changing the hiding spot.

"I really wish you'd stop hiding things on me," Polly muttered, from her inelegant sprawl over her favorite of their squishy armchairs - Joe's, of course. "You do know I can just buy more?"

"Not on a reporter's salary, you can't," Joe replied with a glib satisfaction. "You do know you can cook whatever you like at your own flat?"

"Well that defeats the purpose completely," Polly sighed. "And anyway, I'm the only reason you two haven't died of starvation by now. You could at least let me make cookies sometimes."

"Thanks, I'll pass," Dex said, "and we wouldn't starve without you, there's a takeaway just around the corner."

Polly huffed and turned back to the tv. "You're both impossible," she said.

Joe waved a hand. "You love us."

✈
"Franky's coming to town," Dex said, leaning over Joe's shoulder and dropping a telegram onto his desk. "Needs a place to stay, we could take a few days off. Show her the sights. Whaddaya say?"

Joe frowned at the telegram - it was address to Dex. "Why is it that all my friends now contact you instead of me?"

Dex grinned and popped his gum. "They like me better, Cap," he said cheerfully. "Don't beat yourself up about it. Franky'd still sleep with ya if you gave her half a chance."

Joe hit him with the telegram. "I'm a one-man man, Dearborn. Get back to work."

"I'm just sayin', if there's anyone I'd want you cheatin' on me with - "

"Out, Dex!" But Joe was grinning, and he read the telegram over with a fond eye. Four days, huh? This was going to be fun.

✈
"...And then I punched her in the face."

Franky nearly spit up her bourbon, laughing. "You didn't! I thought you didn't hit girls?"

"Oh please. It was Polly." Joe rolled his eyes. "I make no promises when it comes to Polly Perkins."

"Isn't she due to show up any time now?" Dex's words were a bit slurred; he couldn't hold his liquor like Joe or Franky. "Y'should hide the sugar."

Franky's lips twisted into a grin. "Joseph...? Is there something that you're not telling me...?"

Joe swore, his face red - from the alcohol, damnit. "What- no, I mean, yes, Polly has this sixth sense for whenever we're home and she comes over to try and make us cookies, but no, I'm not sleeping with her for god's sake - "

That was, of course, precisely when the door opened and Polly swept in. Her smile went from cheerful to slightly fixed. "Cook."

"Perkins."

They stared each other down for a minute before Dex, confused and quite drunk, pointed at her and said, "di'nt we lock the door, Cap?"

Polly snapped out of it in sheer glee. "Of course you did! That's why I had a key made last month." She dumped a load of groceries on the counter and began sorting them. "You three drunkards will thank me in the morning, when there's hot coffee to soothe your hangovers."

"M'not drunk..." Dex mumbled, and slid right off the couch.

Franky snorted. "Let's get him to bed, shall we?"

"Right, on it," Joe muttered. It took the both of them to roll the protesting Dex into the bedroom, and by the time they'd tucked him in and gotten back out, the groceries were completely put away and Polly was pouring herself a glass of bourbon.

"I thought you didn't drink!" Joe accused.

"No, I said ladies don't drink. I'm not a lady, I'm a reporter. And anyway, I couldn't let you have all the fun, could I?"

Joe gave up. As long as Franky and Polly weren't trying to kill each other, and neither of them were trying to kill him, or Dex, or bake cookies - they might just survive this yet.

✈
After that, Franky called on a regular basis. Joe suspected that Polly had put her up to it, to make sure they were okay, and he also suspected that the girls had formed a coalition of sorts to keep their flat stocked and clean. Dex had no complaints - if that's what they wanted to do, he was fine with it. But Joe knew them better, knew that Polly never stuck her neck out for anyone unless there was something in it for her, and Franky hated babysitting. No, they were up to something. He just had to find out what it was.

"Polly," he said, catching her by the elbow as she headed out one morning. Dex was still asleep, and he was leaving that afternoon for Columbia, away on a mission for what could be weeks. He had a dual motive here.

"Yes?" Good lord, she sounded genuine. This housewife stuff must be getting to her head.

"Look after Dex while I'm gone, will you?"

She huffed and rolled her eyes. "Please, Joe, who do you think I am?"

"Answer the question, Polly."

She stared him down. Then, when he refused to accept anything but an answer, she sighed. "I will take very good care of your boyfriend while you're gone. Like always. Happy?"

"No." He frowned and leaned closer. "What's your angle?"

"I'm sorry?"

"...Your motive. What is it you want from us, Polly." His grip tightened on her arm; he wasn't letting this one go either.

But, to his surprise, she just blinked owlishly up at him. "You really do think the worst of me, don't you."

"You haven't exactly given me reason not to," he muttered.

"I care about you," she said, and damn if she didn't mean it. "Both of you. Who do you think kept the suits from taking over the base when you were in Manchuria? Who spun the cock-up in Guatemala into a story of your heroism? Who keeps you functioning, Joe, not just as Sky Captain, but as Joseph Sullivan?"

She sighed, tilted her face down, and pulled her arm gently free. He let her.

"You and Dex have something special, all right? I just want to help. And, maybe, I want to be a part of that. If only for a little while." She didn't meet his eyes, and she didn't say anything more - just turned and left, and Joe stood in the center of the flat kitchenette for a long, long time.

✈
"I know you're not doing this because you care about us," he said, running his finger along the rim of his wineglass as he glared his other victim down. "I know you better than that. When you care about someone, you feed them to the dogs because you know they'll make it. You only coddle when think someone's weak, and frankly, Franky, I don't much appreciate that thought."

She was wearing The Dress again, as Joe liked to think of it. The one that made him feel odd and uncomfortable and distinctly homosexual. She much preferred her in suits.

"Has Polly been at you again? I told her to keep an eye on Dex while you're gone, I know how he gets without you."

"That didn't answer the question, Commander."

She put down her fork and glared at him. "What do you want me to say? That I do think you're weak? That's a lie and we both know it. Don't be an idiot, Joseph."

He let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. "No, of course not. I'm just... I don't know what to make of it. I thought Polly wanted something from me, and she comes out of nowhere with this caring thing, and I'm not sure if I trust her. I want to, you know that. But her history doesn't exactly speak for itself, and that you're helping against your nature is not helping." He leaned forward and speared a piece of steak on the end of his fork. "Just tell me what's going on. Please. I need to know if I can trust her."

Franky sighed. She folded her arms under her chest and stared out at the crowd, a muscle in her jaw working. Joe ate his dinner, letting her think, letting her work it through in her head. It had to be now - they were on mission, and even this meal was part of it, part of their cover. If Franky was going to get personal, tonight was the night.

"The truth?" she said, sounding far away.

He put down his fork and watched her. "Always."

"...I like her, Joe."

Wait. What?

"Hang on." He frowned. "Like as in - "

"Yes, as in like, and don't start with me. Dex is the only man for you; well, Polly's my Dexter. She's different. I like her. And I'm using you as an excuse to get closer, not because I truly believe you need the smothering." She held up her wineglass, her face bright and fragile and absolutely warning him that if he ever breathed even the slightest hint of this beyond this conversation, she would kill him. Several times. "Are we clear, now?"

He gulped. "Crystal."

✈
"So Franky likes Polly?" Dex asked, as they lay back in bed in the predawn light, the morning after Joe returned from Columbia.

"Hard to believe, isn't it?" Dex didn't count in that warning. Like Joe could keep anything from him.

"...Not really, actually. Not when you think about it."

Joe frowned at him. "What-"

"Well, you and Polly are a lot alike, y'know?" Dex walked his fingers up Joe's bare chest, grinning. "You're both fanatically single-minded, stubborn, and you assume the worst about everyone. Don't complain; you know it's true. You don't even trust me nearly as much as you should - oh, stop," he said, shoving at Joe's guilt-stricken face. "I know you, stupid. And I love you even when you doubt me. So, yeah, I could see it. In her own words, Polly's no lady."

"But - " Joe was still trying to wrap his mind around this. Polly. And Franky. "But Polly's a girl," he said, knowing exactly how pathetic that sounded.

"She's as much of a girl as Franky is," Dex said. He was being reasonable, which Joe found all the more infuriating. "And you've never seen that, not really. You like to box people in. Polly's a girl in your head so you can't accept that sometimes she isn't, sometimes she wears pants and isn't afraid of getting dirty, especially for a story. Franky, she's just a soldier to you. You see her in a dress and you panic, because it doesn't fit, does it? But they're all of those things. So yeah." He smiled and stroked his fingers through Joe's hair. "I can see it."

"...But you're just Dex, right?" he whispered, into the gray of the dawn.

"Right," he murmured back. "Just Dexter Dearborn. I'm a simple guy, really. All you need to know is, I'm yours."